2 comments/  26316 views/  1 favorites

Commune

By: rrickgauer



It was a modern day commune, like in the sixties when it was peace and love, and brothers and sisters. Hey, man, mind if I sleep with your old lady? Sure, man, I don't own her. She's free as a bird, man. 

The commune sat on old farm land just off the border of New York and Pennsylvania. A lottery winner had bought the property. An old sixty's throwback, dyed-in-the-wool hippie of the modern day of video games and cell phones and high-def TV. All of which were strictly prohibited on the property.

"None of the man's devices are allowed," Stu Robertson, the lottery winner and owner of the commune told anyone who wanted to join. "All the articles that corrupt our youth are to be deposited right here." Stu held out a large stainless steel garbage can half filled with cell phones and Blackberrys.

Stu Robertson stood six foot four, thin as a sapling, with straggly, albeit clean, shoulder-length hair, and a patchy attempt at a beard. Stu, immediately, defended his winning the lottery, another of the man's tools of corruption, as a sign from a higher being, that it was meant to be so he could buy this farm land and form a commune. "Synchronicity, man. Carl Jung. Dig it." 

"The problem with the downfall of the sixties generation commune was the inability to designate work so the commune could function on a long term basis. Everyone was allowed to do as they please so the system collapsed," Stu preached our first day upon arriving. We all stood inside the expansive living room while Stu stood on the hearth of the fireplace and spoke to us. "Not that I'm opposed to free will and free love." Stu winked at a leggy blonde who had tossed her bra into the garbage, her nipples erect against the T-shirt she wore. "But there has to be organization or the system will self-destruct. Everyone here will be assigned a particular responsibility, one they are comfortable with, a strength. For example, I myself am very good with my hands." Another glance at the leggy blonde. "So any repairs to the house or barn, I am more than qualified to handle having been a carpenter under than man's iron hand. So what I'm asking is that you volunteer what it is you think you can contribute to the community to keep it running smoothly. As of now we are in need of some yard maintenance."

I raised my hand.

"Yeah, you," Stu said to me. "What's your name, brother?"

"Freddy," I said.

"I like your style, Freddy my man," Stu said, walking over to me and taking my hand in a soul brother handshake. "You definitely got the right attitude. You volunteering for the yard work detail?"

"I have some experience," I said. "So, yeah, I guess I am."

"Far out, man," Stu beamed. "Far out. What's your experience, man?"

"I did some landscaping and yard maintenance in California for a while."

"No fucking shit," Stu said, amazed. "A true Californian in our midst. Like a sign from the hippie gods of yore, man. That's righteous, brother, totally righteous." Stu moved back to the fireplace. "Is there anyone else willing to volunteer to help my man Freddy on the yard work detail?"

The leggy blonde raised her hand. Stu's face lit up like a beacon.

"And what is your name?" Stu said, jumping off the hearth again and taking the blonde's hand in his.

"Star," she answered.

You'd of thought she had told Stu she was the Virgin Mary by the look on his face.

"Truly you two are a sign of things to come," Stu said, still holding Star's hand and gesturing towards me. "Is Star your given name?" he asked turning his attention back to Star.

"Yes," Star answered.

"We are going to make it," Stu pronounced to the group. He let go of Star's hand and made his way back to the fireplace hearth. He turned back to the incoming group. "I feel it. Like when I felt it was time to play the lottery my brothers and sisters. The commune, a perfect concept of living together as a whole. Today is the first day of the rest of our lives. Let's celebrate."

In true communal fashion Stu made his way to the communal bong and fired up a huge bowl of reefer, each of us taking one of the hoses with the attached mouthpiece and inhaling.

Stu had taken the barn and converted it into a kind of mini hotel. He had built about thirty stalls with room for two people to sleep comfortably and private enough for the inevitable liaisons. The back, left-hand corner of the barn housed the urinals, toilets and communal showers. There would be no septic problems in Stu Robertson's commune.

Each stall had a mattress, blankets and two pillows. I took a stall with my buddy, Eric Stanton. 

Eric was the one who had talked me into coming here. We had been working together that winter and spring for a company running machine parts from Buffalo to Cleveland. It was good pay, and fairly easy work. Too good for a couple of twenty-three-year-olds like ourselves. But come to find out we weren't just running machine parts. The Feds busted the operation in late May. Seems Great Lakes trucking was also running methamphetamine from the Canadian border.

"Hey, look at this," Eric said to me one morning as we drank coffee and read the paper. 

There was an ad in the paper for "serious-minded hippies" to join a commune just outside of Jamestown, New York. Stu Robertson, Proprietor.

"I'm not a serious-minded," I said. "I don't even have long hair."

"Listen," Eric said, seriously. "We're on the verge of losing this apartment and with no legitimate jobs prospects this could be our answer. This is a commune. We don't have to worry about jobs. Live off the fat of the land. This is that dude who won the mega-lottery."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning we don't have to worry about a place to stay or food to eat," Eric said. "And from what I understand, these communes are full of chicks who are into free love. And you know what that means."

"What?'

"Free sex."

I met Star out in the backyard the next day. She was dressed in a pair of cutoff jeans, flip-flops and a T-shirt. She still hadn't retrieved her bra. I had on a pair of jeans, sneaks and tank top. 

"Morning," I said.

"Morning," Star replied. "Ready to get started?"

I was, but I was disappointed. So much for free love and all. 

Stu was prepared. He had bought two lawn mowers, a gas-powered weed eater and had them stored in a small shed. 

"I'm not going to make the same mistakes as my predecessors," Stu said, when he came out back to check on us. His eyes roamed all over Star's body, sliding up her long, tan legs, lazily gliding over the frayed edges where the cutoffs met the curve of her ass and then continued on up over her breasts and to her face. "They let their land go to hell, pissed and shit wherever they pleased, and the next thing you know the local authorities were making a visit and shutting them down. Threatening to prosecute for illegal drugs, even prostitution. Ain't gonna happen here, my friends. They were afraid of organization. They should have embraced it."

I watched as Star took in every word Stu said. She was buying it, hook, line and sinker. So much for Star, I thought.

We went to work as soon as Stu finished his verbal manifesto about communal longevity. 

The farm had a little over an acre to be mowed. Star and I went to work. I started on one side of the lot and her on the other. I got into the work. I forgot about Star and Stu and the commune. I stripped off my shirt, my muscles feeling like they had a life of their own, my adrenaline flowing through my veins and the sweat poured in the hot June sun.

It took Star and me about two hours to finish mowing. I had taken up the bulk of the work, driving myself like a slave in one of those zones I fell into when I was doing physical labor. I could feel my muscles twitching, wanting more, pushing it to the limit. I cranked up the weed eater and started to rip down the foot high grass in the front ditch like a soldier with a machine gun.

An hour later I stood out front and noticed my handy work. The place, even Stu would have to admit, looked good. Damn good. 

I fired up the lawn mower again and mulched the weeds I had whacked in the ditch. 

I had completely forgot about Star as I stored the equipment back in the shed. Her mower was already there, but Star was nowhere in sight. Probably with Stu, I thought. 

I walked back to the barn and decided to get a shower. I grabbed a towel, a few clean clothes and found the communal shower empty. I stripped and eased myself under the cool stream of water. I leaned against the wall as the water cascaded over my back. The heat of the day washed away, along with the bits of grass and weeds that had clung to my body. This was what it was all about, I thought. I was in a kind of meditative nirvana from the hard work I had just finished. No drug could reproduce this feeling. Not that I was opposed, or hypocritical enough, to turn away a joint, but this feeling was self-induced, a natural high.

"You're hard to keep up with," I heard a voice say. It startled me and I turned to find Star standing there in the communal shower, naked. "Next time I'll be ready."

Star walked to a shower and turned on the water. She turned her back to the water, leaned her head back and soaked her golden locks. As she arched her back, I watched her breasts float upwards, the water running over them and down her stomach. I watched the water glide over the faint, blonde down of hair just above her pubic bone, the light brown patch of hair glistening. 

I found myself getting hard and quickly turned back to my own shower and tried to forget that Star was just a few feet away, naked.

"Do you always work that hard?" she asked.

"I just sort of get into it," I said. I tried to keep my back to her, my erection not subsiding, but growing.

"I guess so," Star said. "I felt like a slacker compared to you. Stu was impressed."

That did it. The very mention of Stu deflated my desire like a punctured tire.

"Yeah, I guess so," I said.

I buried my head under the shower of water and sulked. How in the hell could a hot chick like Star be interested in a skinny, scraggily freak like Stu Robertson? Fuck him and his communal bullshit, I thought. Just a bunch of hippie rhetoric. Wait until winter sets in, I thought. Sure, Stu had seen to it to put heat in the barn - a damn good heating system by the looks of it - but wait until the long, drawn out winter settled in. Then it wouldn't be so hip and cool and "dig it, man" and groovy anymore. But then I thought about Star snuggling up in Stu's bed over the winter, those soft breasts and downy hair his for the taking, and my anger resurfaced. Doubled, because I realized I forgot soap, shampoo and a wash rag. 

"Hey," I said, turning to Star, not caring if I got another erection. But she was gone. The communal shower empty.

"Where you been?" Eric asked, when I returned to our stall. 

"Doing my communal duty," I said, still stinging from my encounter with Star. "What have you been doing?"

"I was helping Stu string some lights for the big dance coming up."

"What dance?" I asked.

"Stu decided to have a dance," Eric said. "Star talked him into it."

Great, I thought. A dance where I'd have to watch Stu and Star dancing together.

Over the next week I kept myself busy cleaning up brush around a small pond toward the back of the lot. Stu had decided to have the dance next to the pond in case anyone felt the urge to skinny dip. I found an old tire and tied it to a tree branch overhanging the water with some thick rope. I contemplated making a noose and hanging Stu from it. 

The whole commune was buzzing over the fact we were having a dance. During our communal dinners it was all anyone could talk about. Stu, at the head of the table, smiled like he had just been elected president. Star, sitting off to his left, like the first lady, made me want to puke. 

I kept myself busy every waking hour, looking for things to do. I found two saplings in the nearby woods and transplanted them into the front yard. It took hours of digging around the young trees to save the roots, and then hours more to transplant and water them, making sure they didn't go into shock and die. Afterwards, sweaty and dirty from the work, I entered the communal shower to find Beth, a buxom brunette, her head fully lathered in shampoo, her heaving breasts white with the flowing soap, facing me.

"Hello?" she said.

"Hello," I replied.

"Could you give me a hand here," she yelled. "I got soap in my eyes. I can't find the water."

I dropped my towel and hurried to her. I grabbed her shoulders and directed her head under the running water. She began to rinse the shampoo from her hair and eyes, her buttocks sliding over my cock and making it stand at immediate attention. 

She finished rinsing, flung back her full head of hair and turned to face me. "Thanks," she said, and then glanced down at my erection.

"Sorry," I said, trying to cover myself with my hands. 

Beth glanced around, making sure no one else was near. Stu had made it perfectly clear he didn't want sex in the communal areas. "Nobody wants to be stepping into a sticky mess while they're just trying to take a shower or go to the bathroom," he had said.

Beth reached out, separated my hands and wrapped her hand, still coated in lather, around my cock. The sensation of her warm hand and slippery suds made me shiver. She glanced around again, got down on her knees and placed the tip of my cock near her mouth. 

"I won't tell if you won't tell," she said, her warm breath coating my cock.

But before I could answer, the sound of footsteps thwarted our efforts. Beth got up off her knees and drifted back under the shower. I made my way to another shower head and quickly turned on the water, keeping my back to whoever had entered. The cool water and unexpected interruption caused my erection to die a quick death. I glanced over my shoulder and Star had come in with her stallmate, Indigo.

Indigo was the name Stu had seen fit to give her now that he was infatuated with Star's name and how it had made the whole communal experiment seem more real and definitive. He had bestowed upon Mary - her real name - the name Indigo. And she had dug it. Dug it because she had this mane of dark, steel blue hair and Indigo was now her signature. Mother Nature's signature. It was what she should have been called she told everyone.

I glanced over at Star and Indigo as they showered. Indigo, her back to me, and Star looking at me and smiling.

"Hi," she said. 

"Hi," I replied.

"I saw the trees you planted out front," she said. "They look wonderful."

Indigo turned from under her shower of water and looked at me. Her dark nipples almost a match for her hair said, "You planted those trees?"

"Yeah," I answered.

"Groovy, man," she said. "I'm digging them."

"Thanks," I said. 

"Say," Indigo said, turning to face me, her dark patch of overgrown pubic hair looking like a jungle. "Did you put that tire in the tree near the pond?"

"That was me," I said.

"Far out, man. Far out. Classic touch and just in time for the dance."

"Are you coming?" Star asked.

"Coming where?" I asked, trying not to stare at her body. Star, not completely into the communal experience, had not neglected to shave her armpits and legs, and had seen to keeping her pubic hair trimmed. She stood there, totally naked, like it was the perfectly natural thing to do, a little hitch in her hips and waited for answer. "You mean the dance?" I asked.

"Of course," she said. "You've put the most work into it. Surely you're going."

"I hope so," Indigo added.

"Me too," Star said.

"Really?" I asked, excited at the prospect Star was expecting my presence.

"Yeah," she said. "I was just talking to Stu about it and he said you had to come. You're like the...how did he say it?" Star turned to Indigo.

"He's like the quintessential example of a communal member. Unselfish. Hard working. Always thinking of the family," Indigo said. "Handsome," she added. "No," she laughed. "He didn't say that. But it's true."

I smiled the best fake smile I could muster under the circumstances. They had me until Star mentioned Stu again. What was the attraction? 

"He's going all out," Indigo continued. "He's splurging and bringing in a live band to play. Acoustical, of course."

Splurging, I thought, and then the light in my head finally turned on. How obvious it had been and yet I had missed it. Star was waiting for this communal charade to finally fade away and she would still be standing side-by-side with Stu and his lottery winnings.

"I don't think I'm going," I said.

"Why not?" Indigo asked, disappointed.

"Yeah, why not?" Star asked.

I wanted to tell her I was disgusted by her facade, her veiled attempt at trying to act like some kind of pacifist and nonconformist. Drifting in among us like an aimless ship at sea and finally finding her port. But it was all a cover because she was just a gold-digger, willing to do anything to have the almighty buck. A fake. A phony. Fuck her, I thought.

"I'm not much of a dancer," I said.

"I doubt that," Indigo said, her eyes taking a walk all over my body.

I stood there, daring Star to look at me, to go ahead and try to turn me on with just a look. I stood there naked, my cock dangling between my legs, limp as a sleeping dog and I wanted Star to glance down just to show her the connection was gone. At least my connection anyway.

"That's too bad," Star said. "With all the work you've done it would be a shame if you didn't come. Stu will be disappointed."

I almost said it. I almost blurted out that Stu could go fuck himself along with his pile of lottery winnings, but I was saved by two other brothers, Sweden and Kyle, walking into the shower.

"Well, ain't this truly a communal shower," Sweden, a tall blonde with a head full of wild, wind-blown hair, said.

"Truly is brother," Kyle, his short, beer-bellied, hair all over his body, stallmate, agreed.

"Star, Indigo, Beth" Sweden said, nodding to the girls.

"Sisters," Kyle said, his eyes looking at them, not like sisters, but like prostitutes.

"Sweden, Kyle," Star said, before turning away, her eyes drifting over me for a fraction of a second.

I looked over and Beth was giving me a quizzical look, glancing back and forth between me and Star.

"I saw the way you look at her," Beth whispered in my ear later that night.

I was asleep. I thought I was dreaming. Dreaming of Beth's tongue running up the side of my face to my mouth, her hand sliding into my shorts, over my hard cock, setting it free.

"I still owe you," she whispered. "For the shampoo."

Beth's lips moved down my chin and over my neck to my chest. She kissed her way, slowly, down over my stomach to the tip of my cock. I could feel her warm breath as her mouth closed over my erection and enveloped it. I dreamed I came in her mouth as she cupped my balls with her hand. 

I avoided everyone but Eric over the next few days. I was sick of hearing about the dance, sick of trying to avoid Stu's over-the-top attempts at trying to convince me to go, sick at seeing Star and having my stupid pride hurt.

I saw Beth at dinner and she winked at me coyly and licked her lips. Maybe I hadn't been dreaming.

I kept to myself and continued to work off my frustrations.

"Hey, California," Stu yelled to me as I was mowing the back lot. He had taken to calling me California, a name, I hated to admit, I liked. But I kept on mowing, pretending I didn't hear him, hoping he would just go away. But he didn't. He came up from behind and tapped my shoulder. "Hey, California, can you stop for a moment?"

I killed the engine. "You don't like the job I'm doing?" I asked, without turning.

"What?" Stu asked, sounding genuinely hurt and even more surprised. "Brother, you have been the answer to my prayers. In a manner of speaking, of course, seeing as I'm an atheist and all, or, at least, an agnostic. My rhetorical prayers, anyway. I have never questioned your work ethic or the quality of that work, brother. I'm hurt you feel that way."


Commune



The candles burned low in the little hut that served as his temporary home. He had not seen any other human being that day. The last vestiges of daylight had long passed among the jungle and the village beyond. He was not sure what the people there thought of this man, stranger from a strange land, living amongst them these last few weeks. A simple meal was prepared and eaten, rice and beans, enough to fill his stomach and fortify him for his quest. As the night sounds around him became full in bloom, he began to put out each candle in turn, darkness slowly encompassing the room he had occupied. After tonight, he would not need this room again. 

His name was Robert Jones, and he had come to this dark island in search of answers. His quest had been a long one, a quest of the spirit as well as the road. He had travelled far in his journey, looking for the thing he needed the most in the world. As he sat in the darkness, allowing his eyes to adjust to the gloom, he reflected back on his life. The road had been a long and hard once, since that day so many years ago when he had left his life as a Professor at Harvard. His faith had been tested time and again by seeing the underside of America, searching dark bars and back alleys. Finally, in a little shop in Florida, he had discovered a signpost to the path he must take. 

He was initiated into the world of the loa that very day, accepting the spirits into himself and feeling their presence. He knew that it was his best chance, his only chance, to find the answers he sought. Many of his friends, when he had told them of his quest to find out what happened to the woman he loved, thought he was mad. And madness still may have been what brought him across the waters to this dark island, filled with the echoes of drums and the stares of those who did not understand him. 

He had travelled to Haiti three years ago. It was a long, hard path that brought him here to this little village in the island's center. He had first had to introduce himself to the local leaders, still steeped in the lore of the dark continent they had once called home. It was a rough thing, convincing them that he really was a fellow traveller and not just some rich man from America, here to study or 'civilize' them. Finally, after many dark and bloody night spent in the hounfour, he had convinced them of his sincerity and dedication to the spirits. Only then was he given the direction to this dark and desolate place, far from the prying eyes of the uninitiated, where he might continue his quest. 

He had spent the last few weeks roaming the hills behind this little hut. Somewhere, out there in the jungle, he knew his destination existed. He had been told by some of the old people of the village that the place was madichonnen, or cursed... and that many people had gone into the jungle to never return. It is amazing what you will believe when left with no other alternative. Thinking back, he imagined the dour Professor he had been making this journey into the wilderness. 

He bore little physical resemblance now to the plump, smiling fellow he had once been. Gone was the paunch, replaced by lean muscle from years of bad meals and long roads. The years had taken their toll on his health, to be sure, but he was sure that he was physically stronger and better now than he had ever been in life. The toll on the mind was the hardest part, the longing and searching for answers to questions that only the world of the spirits could provide. Even when dealing with the Rada loa, the 'good' spirits of the voudou faith, the mind sometimes had a tendency to take on the aspects more and more of the spirits that rode you. And he could not say that he had always restricted himself in his obsessive quest to the more friendly side of the family. 

Robert gathered his things into a tiny pack, just enough food and water to do a couple days, some working tools, a razor sharp knife. These items were his only real necessities in the wildnerness. All other things would either take care of themselves, or kill him. Either way, his journey would be at an end at last. Walking out the door, he gave a final look to the little home he had used... it was as much a home as anything else had been for a long time. Turning to the dark jungle, he began his trek into the wilds.

The brilliant moon, full and ripe, was shining tonight to light his way. He had developed remarkably good night vision during his long trek. He was walking at a brisk pace, stepping over fallen branches and around holes. The last thing he needed was to be stopped at this point by a broken ankle. Closing his eyes, he let himself be open, filling his mind fully with the sounds and scents of the night. He knew that the place he wanted to go was roughly northeast of the little shack, but where exactly he had never been able to discover. Tonight, he was going to change that failure into success. It was all he could do. Living in fear had been his life of the past. 

Suddenly, he felt it... he felt a pull at his body, somewhere deep inside near the pit of his stomach. He knew, in that instant knew the proper direction to travel to reach his destination. Quickly, before the feeling could dissipate in doubt and worry, he began moving faster through the jungle. He followed it like an animal scenting prey, pulled by a lure older than time. Branches scraped his face, his hands, leaving a little trail of bloody drops in the path behind him. All things of great importance require a sacrifice, and the sacrifice of self has ever been the most powerful one that could be given. 

Moving now at almost a run, low to the ground, Robert felt his muscles tightened like steel bands. He was in his element now, following the ebb and flow of the energy in the jungle to find the best route, like a salmon swimming upstream, navigating currents and flows with instinctive precision. He did not know how long he had been moving, or even in which direction he was travelling only that it was the right direction. Suddenly, without warning, the ground gave way beneath him and he stumbled and tumbled down a small hill that he had somehow missed in his haste. Looking up from the ground, he saw that he had finally arrived at his destination.

Looking up at the hillside, he saw the entrance to a cave. The entrance was low and covered with plants and vines. He understood now why he had missed this place. It would be almost impossible to see without being at this angle, and even then it was hard to notice without the incredible pull he felt behind his eyes right now. It was like a moth to a flame, and he could not resist the urge to get up and enter the dark cavern. Checking that he still had his pack, he stood up and began walking toward his destiny.

The smell of smoke wafted from the entrance as he moved closer to the mouth of the cave. This was a curious thing in Robert's mind, but it was quickly overshadowed when he realized he was not alone here in this space. He heard voices, though whether with his ears or in his mind he could not say. Many voices, speaking in languages he did not completely understand. He thought he caught a few words of French, but there was another language underlying that which more closely resembled the Creole patois he heard the natives around here speaking. The voices seemed to emanate from deeper within the cave, so he followed them.

It was not until he had gone about twenty feet underground that he realized he was still able to see. It was as if the walls of the cave were luminescent, a cold light that did nothing to comfort but only to light the path. He continued deeper still and noticed that the light was taking on a more golden glow... the smell of smoke growing stronger as he pushed deeper inside. Finally, rounding a low corner, he found the source of the light and the smell. A fire was blazing away there in the middle of this chamber, the flames licking up and touching the ceiling leaving patterns of soot on the ancient stone. There, beyond the fire, he saw a vaguely humanoid shape crouching amongst the shadows on the far wall. 

Robert moved around the fire to get a better look, but the form somehow always remained right outside his field of view, almost seeming to dance behind the flames to keep hidden. The feeling in the room was one of tension, barely concealed anticipation. Nothing felt off here, or dangerous, but sometimes with these things you could never be certain. Once he had been ridden by a loa that claimed to be Legba, but it had turned out to be something darker. He had used all his concentration to shake that creature from his mind and banish it from the sacred space around his altar. He kept a wary eye on the shape, while taking in the rest of his surroundings.

The cave walls were smooth here, almost as if they had been chipped and carved into the current dome shape over countless years by countless hands. On the walls, faded and old, symbols of the loa were formed in various substances, chalk, dirt... some carved directly into the walls possibly by the same hands that had smoothed their surface. He saw several he recognized. Many were of the Rada family, though some were of the more fiery Petwo clan. These spirits, while not 'evil' in the traditional sense, were fiery and fierce, more at home in Haiti. They were the source of the Revolution that founded the country. Their worship was all too often shrouded in bloody rites and violent confrontations. Robert tried to steer clear of the Petwo when he could but all houngan sometimes had to 'serve with both hands' as the saying went, and they had their place along with the more benign members of the family. 

Turning his attention back to the shape in the corner, he opened his mind and spoke with his voice and his spirit. The words resonated through the cavern, echoing deep into the recesses of the tunnel leading further on underground. With each word, the flames seemed to respond, parting a little more with expression of his Will and power. 

"Show yourself, you hidden lurker. Bring yourself to this servant of the spirits. I am Robert, son of Harold. I have come a long way for my answers and I will not be denied by playful antics at this hour!"

The shape rose to it's full height now, the shape of a man, but of darker cast and shadowy substance. The whisp of smoke around his head could be seen in the shape of a top hat, and that is when Robert knew who he was dealing with. Baron Samedi, patron and leader of the Ghede Loa, spirits of departed ancestors and of the grave.

The Ghede were not truly dark and evil as many suspected. Their image had just been incorporated into many of the dictators who ruled this island, using the top hatted and skull faced figure to frighten enemies and conceal crimes against the people. At their heart, the Ghede were more humorous than fearsome, though they were spirits of the dead and not to be trifled with unprepared. One thing to remember about the Ghede, they are as unique as the people who spawned them. The only thing they share is a vulgar humor and often perverse view of human sexuality. Once you got used to that, they could help a great deal with any matters involving your ancestors, or your lost loved ones. That was why Robert began this trek so long ago. 

"Ghede, Baron, Father of the Dead, I come to you here this night to ask questions. Do you consent to answer? I have something for you if you will give me your word that you will answer true.", Robert said in a full voice. He had learned long ago to never shy away from even the most disgusting practices when living on the road. It was better to meet things head on and will full consent than to sit back and let life float by like a river. 

Robert reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle. This bottle, stoppered tightly, contained a clear liquid in which small red peppers were steeping. This liquor, raw rum spiked with the hottest peppers possible, was especially prized to the Ghede family, as it was almost too hot to drink for a normal person. Many people, when ridden by a Ghede, would wash their faces in it and spray it in their eyes to prove they were truly possessed as it was known to hurt and even blister normal skin. Robert placed the bottle down near the fire and removed the cork from the smooth neck. The Baron moved forward toward the bottle, but kept coming toward Robert. He had just a single moment to prepare before the spirit entered him fully. The scent of grave dirt and sex rose in his nostrils as another voice filled his mind and another being filled his consciousness. 

I know you, young sir, who have courted my company for so long. These answers you seek, they are here with us this night. I believe your sacrifice has been long made and fulfilled. The road is not one you follow to the end, but one you keep following until the end of your days. We shall talk, you and I, of the person you seek. But first, tell me, what are you willing to further give for the information you seek?

"I'm willing to give anything, Father of Ghede, to know that my beloved Catharine is among your number and safe. I've long searched for her, and no trace could be found. I just want to know what happened to her... give me this and you can take whatever you wish as your due.", Robert's voice sounded distant in his ears, as if he were hearing himself through a heavy fog. 

Well then servant, listen carefully to my words and you will know wisdom. Your beloved, who you lost so long ago, is not now and has never been among my ranks. She left you, did she not? She left because of her own hungers and passions... desires for harsh substances and bitter herbs. She left you when she realized that she could never be the person you desired, and only wanted to avoid hurting you. She traveled herself for quite some time, moving from place to place, doing many things to feed her hunger. Your travels have taken you to some of the same places she has been, though you did not know it. 

"Why do you tell me this, when I know I cannot find her. She does not want to be found if she did not contact me then! I'm lost and abandoned, even as I myself abandoned the life I lived so long ago.", Tears stood out on Robert's cheeks as he said these words, a crushing pain in his heart. Somewhere deep inside he felt something tear, but he knew it was only his body releasing it's tension. He did not truly ever hope to find Catharine in this place. The news she was alive made his aching heart beat faster.

There is more, faithful horse, if you would hear it. She traveled long, I say, but she did return to you. Not a month ago did she take up residence in the City you left. She had hoped to find you and only found empty rooms and a shuttered house. She lives there still, not a mile from the place you both called home.... waiting and watching for any sign that you might return. She has defeated the demons inside her and is slowly healing, becoming whole in the thought that she might never see you again. That is the difference between you two, she is capable of this healing. You, however, have been lost in your own grief for so long that you cling to it like a lover, desperate for one more minute of pain that you think you deserve. 

Your sacrifice is complete, my servant of the grave. You wish to know what else I require? Nothing else, only that you see your road not as a destination, but as a journey that has brought you to me. Through me, and my brothers and sisters, you have become more than you were. You have become stronger, you have become more wise. You have become the man you should have been years ago. Let go of your grief, and feel the joy of the living in this place of the dead. Sleep now my son, and know that your prayers have long been answered by your older siblings on the other side.

With that pronouncement, Robert felt a pain in his head as the spirit left him. He stumbled backward, falling on the ground, dizzy and exhilarated. Catharine lived! That was his last thought before the darkness overtook him and he passed out on the old cave floor. When he awoke from this dazed stupor, he saw the first light of dawn creeping in around the curve in the cave passage. He stood, saying a prayer of thanks to Baron Samedi and all the ancestors of his people and this place. Gathering his things back together, he left the bottle of raw rum as an offering to the loa. He moved forward toward the cave mouth, symbolically to be born again as he emerged on his journey home. If he had looked back at that moment, he would have seen the wisp of smoke curling from the burned out fire, smoke barely in the shape of a man in top hat and tails. The smile on that spirits face was one of a grandfather, proud that his children and their children were making good in life. In the end, that is truly all that the spirits wanted for any of us. We are all family, and no one can grow and prosper alone.



Commune



"Sorry," I said, unconvincingly. 

"What I'm really here about is the dance," Stu said.

"Wait a minute," I said, holding up my hand to stop Stu. "I'm not going."

"So I hear. So I hear," Stu said, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Not only have you made this place a model commune with both your hard work and your attitude, but it was when I was going to introduce my wife."

"Your what?" I asked a little too loudly. Had he and Star got secretly wed? Would she stoop to such tactics to ensure her ties to his fortune? 

"After winning the lottery and my decision to build a commune, my wife decided it was time we went our separate ways," Stu said. "But since then, since you have come along and fixed up the commune, she's changed her mind and has decided to give it a chance. Give us a chance again. And it's all your doing, brother. All your doing. So you have to come to the dance. You have to."

Stu was married? What about Star? Had she known this? Were they even a couple or had she just gravitated to him because he was the born leader of this group? Had I been that stupid? 

"I'll be there," I said.

"Right on, man. Right on," Stu beamed. "I knew you wouldn't let me down. I knew it."

Stu walked away with a pep in his step. I stood there feeling like a fool. I heard the other mower fire up and looked over to see Star beginning her section of the back lot. She hadn't even so much as glanced my way.

After I finished up my portion of the lot I went back to the barn and showered. I thought, I hoped Star would come in after she was done, but I never saw her. 

I arrived at the dance after it had got into full swing. I had lagged behind and got stoned. The sounds drifted from the back of the farm, the acoustical rhythms of the band floated through the air like soft echos. I was floating myself, walking on air, high on the news Star was as free as a bird. 

The area, softly lit by the string of lights Eric and Stu had strung up through the trees, glowed in surreal beauty. The faint, sweet smell of hash and the misty fog of pot smoke gave the scene a true communal appearance. People were dancing and laughing and drinking. The tire swing carried hippie after hippie into the now crowded pond. All of them naked and sharing in the experience of communal freedom. 

I scanned the area for Star, but through the crowd of people I could not see her. 

The music faded and Stu called the crowd to attention from the stage. 

"Brothers and sisters," Stu called out. "I need just a few precious minutes of your time."

The crowd turned their attention towards Stu and a muted hush came over them.

"This, my people, is what it's all about," he said, extending out his arms like a giant embrace. "Peace and love and harmony." The crowd roared in approval. "And tonight is a special night for me." Stu reached his hand out and a woman came on stage with him. A bushy-haired woman, dressed in a shawl, sandals and enough bracelets that I could hear them jingling all the way toward the back of the crowd. "I'd like to introduce to you the love of my life. This is my wife, Jeanne."

The crowd cheered and Jeanne flushed in embarrassment. She put her hand up to quiet the crowd. "Please, from now on, call me...Lucky." The crowd went berserk at her new, self-imposed name. 

I smiled and fell back into the crowd looking for Star. Stu thanked the crowd and the band went into an acoustical rendition of Stairway to Heaven. I walked the crowd, growing increasingly distraught that Star was nowhere to be found. My mind raced. Was she too distraught herself, knowing Stu had a real wife on the outside and her dreams of financial glory were forever crushed? 

I faded into the background and decided to head back to my stall, grab a good nights sleep and work off my frustrations tomorrow. They'd be a great deal to clean up, including bodies strewn everywhere from either drug or alcohol induced comas.

The barn was dark and quiet and still. I walked to my stall, feeling my way in the darkness and crawled into my bed.

"Where have you been?" a voice said.

"What?" I asked, surprised. It was Star.

"I thought you said you weren't going to the dance. I thought that was a hint. I guess I was wrong."

She started to get up. I reached out and stopped her, my hand brushing up against the side of her breast. She was naked.

"No," I said. "Really, I want you to stay."

"Really?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah," I moaned.

Star eased back on my mattress and pulled me to her. Our lips met in a slow kiss, Star's hands finding the side of my face. I leaned forward, placing a hand on her side and feeling the soft, warm flesh just under her breast. 

Star slipped her tongue over my own and drew my face closer. I slid my hand down her hips to the curve of her ass. She bent her leg and my fingertips felt the heat of her sex. I pulled her hips forward and pushed my lips and mouth against hers.

Our lips parted. I ran my hand along her smooth leg, from her ankle up to the soft flesh inside her thigh. I wanted to wait to touch her sex. I wanted to prolong the experience, make it last forever. 

Star reached inside my shirt and ran her hand across my chest, her other hand fumbling with the button of my jeans.

"Take your clothes off," she whispered.

I stood up and slowly undressed, my eyes adjusting to the darkness of the barn, a sliver of moonlight crossing over Star's body. As I stood there naked, Star reached her hand out and moved down to her. I kissed her again, ran my hand over her breasts, squeezing the nipples and then moved down to lick them. I ran my tongue over each nipple, flicked it, felt Star's body respond by arching back and heard a low moan escape her lips.

Star tangled her fingers in my hair as I moved from nipple to nipple. I moved down and traced my tongue under the curve of each breast, my hand sliding down to part her legs. Star responded by moving them apart and moaning, wordlessly, she wanted me to continue.

Kissed my way down her over her ribs and to that soft down near her bellybutton. I ran my tongue around it and then licked down to the small patch of hair just above her sex. I buried my nose in it, smelling the womanly scent, feel the moist heat rising. I slowly moved down into the fleshy folds of her, my tongue sliding over the clit, now swollen with desire.

Star turned to her side and I felt her hand on my cock. Then her mouth slid slowly over the shaft.

I moved my way down the moist slit of flesh, gliding my tongue up and down, lingering over the swollen clit, pushing against it as Star moved her hips up to greet me. 

Star grabbed my hips and rolled herself on top of me, spreading her legs wider as my tongue slipped inside the folds of flesh and moisture. She rocked her hips back and forth, my tongue slipping in and out.

Star started to pump my shaft with her hand, twirling the hand and engulfing it with her mouth. Up and down, the rhythm of her hips matching the rhythm of her hand and mouth.

I grabbed Star's ass and pulled her to my mouth and tongue. I ground my tongue against her clit, the tempo of her bucking hips in perfect synch with her mouth and hand. Our moans in perfect tempo as we came together.

Star collapsed on top of me. We lay there breathing heavy, the wetness of her sex at the base of my chin, the side of Star's face on my own.



Communication



Part 1

They lived in a modest bungalow. Finding it sometimes a bit cramped for the two of them, but it was all she could afford when he was born. Her son, who she loved more than life itself, had grown to a fine young man. He was to follow her next year into the faculty of engineering. Kevin was the one man she found acceptable in life having tried and failed many times. His own father was an example. Jacqueline had bedded him when she graduated from university, but soon found him unfit to live a life with. Although she already knew she was pregnant, Jackie didn't tell him he was to be a father when she eased him from her life; choosing the tough road of raising her baby on her own. She was happy she had. Extremely proud of the fine man she had produced although she admitted his father's genetic inheritance had contributed to his good looks and excellent physique. Jackie's own beauty had added a certain sensuousness to him his father had lacked.

Although she loved the feeling of a man's hardness inside her, she finally stopped dating not wanting to invest in the emotional upheaval, which came with each new attempt. Her one consolation was her twin sister Jillian, who now married, lived across the country, she in the east, herself in the west. Jillian came twice a year enduring the five-hour plane ride to be with her. When they were together, they referred to themselves as Jack and Jill going back to their parents' sense of humor when they were named. Each time she visited they spent long hours in bed with each other. The two doors to her bedroom locked so her son wouldn't accidentally walk in on them. They had begun exploring their bodies young and simply had never stopped. Neither had ever touched another woman and felt they were neither lesbian nor bisexual. They felt they were simply twins, communicating with each other. 

Jackie loved the neighborhood were she lived so instead of moving she had renovated the house as her career grew more successful, spending considerable money on the kitchen and bathroom. The kitchen was a cook's delight. The bathroom was a hedonistic dream for those who enjoyed the sensuality of soap and warm water. Jackie had the third bedroom torn out to allow the expansion with a large three-person tub, complete with all the pumps and jets one could wish for. In the other corner a huge shower, which had two showerheads she could stand between. She had adjusted one so it sprayed on her bottom while the other made her breasts tingle; sending exotic feeling to her genitals, when she adjusted the settings of the spray. There was a small bench in the corner. When her knees became too weak to support her she often sat there finishing herself. Jackie had installed the most expensive plate glass door and wall to the front of the shower liking the opulence of the look. She had a door installed between her bedroom and the bath which could be locked from either side instructing her son to unlock it from his side when he left the bathroom.

Kevin loved his mom, but he was sure she didn't know how much or the manifestations of his love. He often went to the clothes hamper in the bathroom to find a pair of her soiled panties. He didn't consider them soiled. He felt they were redolent in her elixir and enjoyed smelling and tasting the crotch. His arousal assured by her taste. He was a virgin at eighteen which annoyed him, but he had been unable to find someone who enflamed his sexual imagination as much as his mum. Kevin had learned on the internet how men and woman seemed to love oral sex finding he had indeed enjoyed his mother's flavor, savoring her aroma as he stoked himself to orgasm. Since he did not want to be caught his most erotic moments were in the bathroom thinking of his mom's bodacious sumptuous body. He had seen it many times clad only in bra and panties, occasionally a thong her sensuous opulence manifested in every undulation of her body, which she paraded with blazon disregard for the salacious spectacle she so wantonly exposed. The taboos in the household were of nudity only. He consequently was often only in his briefs.

What he didn't know was his mother loved and coveted his body as well, often promising herself she wouldn't touch him until he made the first suggestive advance. Jackie often sexually gratified herself in the shower conceiving of many unladylike concepts of her son as her fingers danced in her sex. She had intemperate desires for him, which she wished to indulge with wholehearted fervency, but knew the taboos society imposed. She reclined on her bench legs spread stimulating her clitoris that in turn caused her hormone-enriched blood to race through her veins firing her sexuality until her cunt screamed for instant fruition spewing her spanking fingers with her lubricity. Her fingers brought the massive orgasmic shudders to her body as she was released momentarily from the lascivious desires which threatened to overwhelm her in cardnalism. She would dream her son would make the first decadently indecent move which would allow her to shamelessly break the taboo. Jackie felt it was up to him to decide whether the taboo applied in their case. A parent should not molest a child even though the child was now a man with a gorgeous body. 

One day Jackie came home early from work wanting to indulge herself in her favorite pastime. She slowly stripped her concupiscent body in front of the full-length mirror. She was proud of her breasts slightly pendulant with size, but also with age she had to admit. Still she felt they would kindle the bodily appetite of any man. She pulled down her scanty thong, filling the room with her rich redolent highly aroused sexual scent, as again she admired herself. Her pubic thatch covered her mound with a thick luxuriant growth which slightly hid the swollen lips of her lubricous furnace. Jackie went to the bathroom. In her haste to be in the shower to frig herself forgot to lock the door to the hallway. She stood in the shower soaping her now extremely lusty sex, dreaming of her son's body pressed lasciviously against her. She could imagine her breasts mashed against his hard chest the areolas and nipples sending streams of messages to her brain of her need, her pubes salaciously rubbing against a muscular thigh. The hint of turgid penis against her; it throbbed against her body. Oh, she wanted him.

Oh, he wanted her. He had arrived home a few minutes after her. Her car, safely in its garage hadn't given away the fact she was home. He had gone to his room and began thinking of his mom's spectacularly curvaceous body as he stripped himself, leaving only his t-shirt, simply because it wouldn't impede him. Kevin walked to the bathroom, his penis already engorged, bouncing along in front of him. Kevin was hoping he would find a pair of her emission stained panties full of her pungent scent, which would compliment his hot-blooded pleasure while thinking of her slippery wet incubating cunt wrapping his penis in the inflaming heat only a female can provide. He entered the bathroom to find a hint of steam in the air, his mother in the shower, gratifying her sexuality by pleasuring her dripping wet hot pussy. He closed the door quickly behind him so a cool draft wouldn't alert her. He enkindled his own passions and stroked his penis slowly not wanting the moments to end. Finally, he was unable to stifle a moan; she turned to look at her son playing with his tumescent sex.

Jackie continued to play with her now enflamed horny pussy. She smiled the warm loving smile she always gave him with her approval. But this time there was the powerful allure of her extremely salacious nature in the smile. Kevin took it as a signal, entered the shower, his t shirt forgotten as he took her in his arms, her breasts pressed tightly against him. His hands were on her bottom. Oh how she loved it. But there was one flaw. She had him raise his arms as she stripped him of the shirt making him perfect. Jackie cuddled back in to him told him how long she had waited for this moment while she rubbed against him licentiously. He took the soap from her and began to wash her. Explored her body with his hands and the soap which he slid everywhere. First her back but then her neck, her face, her arms, her breasts not forgetting the rest of her chest, her abdomen were all carefully examined and washed. He skipped her pubes giving her a momentary sense of disappointment as he did both thighs, which gave her moments of ecstasy as his hand approached closely to her steamy sex. Then down her legs, her knees he washed. All the while the warm waters of the showerheads rinsing as he washed.

He went to his knees to do her feet lifting her legs, one at a time, to do the bottoms rinsing carefully so she wouldn't slip. Then still on his knees in front of her Kevin began doing her hips, bottom, and sex. First, it was her hips, slathering them in soap before he twisted her sideways to him. Then her bum was carefully covered in soap. Just when Jackie had begun to despair, he touched her there for the first time. He sent jolts of impassioned fire through her body; it began to shiver in ecstasy.

Yet she was not close to climax. Kevin regained his feet, blinking the water from his eyes; he began to experience her thoroughly. One hand explored her sex while the other her bum. He withdrew his hands soaping them heavily before giving her the bar of soap. Jacqueline felt his penis hard against her hip as his hands now penetrated her. One finger slide into her anus as another two entered her center. The fingers brought waves of heated desire that coursed unrestrained through her body. Jackie was being felt up like never before. He continued to manipulate her pussy, seeing how many fingers he could put inside her. At one point, he took the soap from her: slid it into her, before digging it out and handing it back to her. She was so horny; her carnal passion would not allow her to return the wash but with the soap went directly to his hardened sex, caressing him to intense blazing lust, as he fingered her. 

Jackie turned to her son loosing the finger in her bum as she did so but enjoying the feel of his stiffened shaft in her hand. She whispered in his ear, "You know all those words I taught not to say, well now is the time to use them. That is why you don't use them any place else because they loose their meaning used as adjectives instead of nouns and verbs." "I know mother" he replied as both their minds made the mental switch which complimented the raging lust now with in them. Kevin couldn't believe the beautiful mother he had dreamed of was now his for the taking, her cunt begging for his cock. That she had loved him with equal intensity and now was giving him her body as she continued to stroke him further inflamed the passions he had held within himself. His cock was hard in her hand as she washed his aching balls with the other. His mom's pussy was thrusting against the three fingers he was stroking her with. His mom again whispered in his ear if they didn't get out of the shower they would soon be in for a cold one because even though there were twin hot water tanks in the basement they had a limit. They reluctantly let go of each other, respectively turning to turn off the shower taps behind them.

They toweled each other off, cherishing with calculating appraisal the sexuality they saw. Kevin followed his mom into her bedroom watched the sensual opulence of the fine ass flexing with her steps. It sent additional waves of lascivious desire coursing through his hormone-enhanced body. Jacqueline reclined on the bed facing her son her arms out stretched, as if he were still her little boy, who needed to be hugged. It was true. Although now there was considerably more to it with sexual desires of the flesh mixed all through the love. He bore her down into the bed passionately kissing her the first time as a lover. Kevin reveled in her soft salacious flesh as their kiss went on and on tongues intertwined as saliva flowed between them each sucking for the other's taste. He began to lick her skin. He savored her. In a way he was trying to swallow her essence. He found a nipple sucked it greedily into his mouth, relishing the flavor, enjoying the moans he elicited as he took more and more of her tit into his mouth. The feel of her hand, which held him to her, sent beautiful messages of her desire to his brain. His mum's hips began a dry hump on the bed. He knew more sexual stimulation was expected. He felt all the times he had ingested the aromatic juices of her panties were mere preparation for this sensually enriched moment. Her impassioned scent wafted in the air now from its' liquescent source rather than second hand as he was use to.

Jacqueline loved the way he kissed her sucking the saliva out of her as their bodies writhed against each others. She knew she would soon need more enravishment as her hips involuntarily forced her cunt upwards searching for some potent flesh to fill it. He hesitantly told her he wanted to taste her down there and then more boldly said he wanted to tongue fuck her. She smiled her approval again, and asked him to get off the bed for a moment. As he stood watching she spread eagled on the bed so he could clearly see her cunt for the first time and began to rub her heated twat's lips in front of him.

Jacqueline was no blushing virgin; she was a strumpet, using her lewdness to attract. She understood many things about men. The lesson, which stood out the most, was they were visual creatures created by nature's influence. That's why a woman's breasts, the larger bum are nature's design to seduce a mate. She knew the most seductive of all was a woman's fully aroused cunt. Jackie very carefully stimulated her self until her outer lips were so engorged her inner lips were fully on display. She continued to rub which caused copious amount of her nectar to coat her fingers as she caused her inner lips to engorge and color spreading in their turn to show a hint of her pinkish red interior. When she was certain she could prepare herself no better she presented her self to him, evocatively suggestive as she brought her hips and ass off the bed high into the air, in an act so libidinous he almost came with the sight. She then fell back onto the bed sucking with her mouth, her honey from her fingers. He surprised her, grasping her hips, dragging her body until her buttocks were at the edge of the bed. He sat on the floor directly in front of her bum dropping her legs over his shoulders. 

Kevin almost skipped the tonguing he wanted to give her for a cock in cunt fuck right then. That he wanted to be the most fabulous lover she ever had was the only thing that held him back. The exhibit she had but on had almost made him come on the spot making his cock jerk and fill even further with besotted desire. He loved the sight of her beautifully engorged fleshy cunt lips surrounded by her hairiness. He had long since realized the shaved pussies of the internet were for clinical cleanliness which had very little to do with sexual allure. His mother was extremely sexually alluring; the aroma of her arousal inviting him to the succulent feast now inches from his tongue. He slid his arms up her body to grasp her sexually titillating voluptuous breasts as his tongue licked her inner milky white tremulous thighs first on one side and then the other Two could play the game of tease one with the visual, the other with the carnal sensations he could message with his lecherous tongue. He them licked her puffy outer lips moving his face back and forth careful not to touch the inner petals of love. His mom now tried to stuff herself into his mouth but each time she did so he pulled back so she only thrust at air.

Jackie started to moan as her animality increased now sending her close to orgasm. He had yet to enter her in any way since their arrival on the bed. Then it happened his tongue licked her inner lips bringing a mini orgasm as he simply flicked with his tongue over their slime-slicked surface. It did not relieve her from her sexual tension. It simply caused her body to shudder momentarily as it passed. His tongue made its first full lick flat against her inner lips almost penetrating as it passed from bottom to top sliding over the nerve bundle she had so carefully aroused. The next lick started at her asshole and moved along over cunt until it finished with a couple of flicks of her clit. The third probed her ass for entry, then felt around her hole before moving to her cunt, delving in as deeply as it could. Now she understood the thorough reaming of her ass in the shower. Then she lost count as her son's tongue began to ravish her.

Kevin was now for the first time enjoying her taste directly. He tongued her ass because he had found out in the shower she liked having her asshole played with. It was her cunt he really enjoyed lapping all the syrupy honey she was producing. His hands left her tits came down her belly to the top of her pussy where they pulled on her skin exposing her hot quivering nubbin of love which now he began to suck on with his tongue giving occasional lightning flicks. A complete conjunction of mouth and cunt was established. She came immediately her hips with carnal volition driving her cunt upwards with such force she bruised both their lips. It was a wonderful bruising. He began to tongue her again. It was too painful her clit had over sensitized, she needed to rest it. Jackie explained this to her son. He thought about it and gave her two minutes to recuperate. Fortunately, as he began again she found it had been enough time.

This time he pushed her legs up until her knees were in proximity to her shoulders, and then asked her to hold them. In this position, her ass was completely vulnerable to his assault. Her son used his hands to spread her checks, this time drove his tongue into her ass knowing she was clean from the shower. He allowed her a few moments of that sensation before again sliding his tongue to her twat to ingest her savory honey he loved so much. His hands spreading her pussy wide as he laved her with his tongue. He soon brought her to another exceedingly strong overwhelming orgasm. He began licking her opulently fleshy thighs when she dropped her legs onto his shoulders giving her the two minutes before placing the bottom of her feet against his neck. Kevin drew her knees wide placing them almost flat on the bed.

Again, Kevin began, she moaned almost continuously as his tongue gamboled in her pussy drinking her cum as he searched for her next orgasm. He moved his tongue slowly this time; because her panting and moaning signaled, his mom was enjoying herself as her abdominal muscles clenched which brought her pussy up for loving. He used his tongue as a mini cock arousing her steadily towards her release. As Jacqueline's moans became louder he transferred his mouth to her clit sucking it and the surrounding flesh into his mouth as his tongue danced on his mom's clit. This time when she released she screamed as a multiple orgasm hit her for the first time in her life. Each successive wave brought tension and release; her body shook uncontrollably writhing on the bed. Finally she lay languorously, her legs over the edge, her cunt totally vulnerable to his further assault if he so desired, as he stood to look at her. His mom's body was covered in a thin film of perspiration. Jackie was still panting physically depleted yet sexually animated. She realized she couldn't get enough of him.

Jacqueline had lechery in her heart as she looked at her son's engorged cock, inflamed by his desire. Its head purple filled with blood. She knew it must now hurt, it been had erect for so long without discharge. She squirmed out of her torpor back to the center of the bed, putting her arms out once more, while she brought her legs up showing her cunt wantonly; demanding penetration with her body. "Come to mommy" she said as she awaited him. Her son moved into position, her hand guiding his staff as he thrust forward into her. It felt astonishingly wonderful as her son returned to his place of birth filling her once again. She loved the sensation, the debauchery of the act, the self gratification of her whorish manipulations, as she thrust upwards receiving a flood of his cum which her pussy, wetting her thighs and ass with warmth.




Communication



They say it's good to talk, right? 

Well that's what I thought too. My only question now is do I still believe that? I'm in a quandary.

I've always placed good, open, honest communication high on my list of priorities when it comes to most walks of life, but certainly at home where it has always seemed vital to me. It was feeling that need for open-ness and clarity that led me to start one particular conversation with my son in the first place.

Christopher - Chris, or occasionally Pups (long story) - had turned eighteen almost four months before this happened and, to be frank, I was starting to wonder just where his sexual preferences lay. Not, you must understand, whether he was straight or gay - neither would have disturbed me in the slightest - but more whether he even understood anything about the subject. Chris is no Adonis, but on the other hand he's no Joseph Merrick either - there's no way that he wouldn't appeal to someone, even if they were particularly picky.

Now, anything even vaguely conversationally sexual is never too easy for a mother with her son, but I am nothing if not determined - and there's no father on the scene these days, which rather forces the issue in any case. All in all, I think that a mere four weeks' preparation and a couple of vodka martinis on the night speaks highly of my willpower. The discussion was needed.

And so it was, I waited one Friday evening until my son took himself off to his room - his usual venue all weekend - and then girded my loins, so to speak, and followed him upstairs.

He was aware of my presence behind him but took no particular notice until he realised that I had followed right him into his murky room. He turned then with a slightly perturbed look on his normally even features.

"Mum? What's up? What have I done now?"

It was an ideal opening for me - better than anything I had so far managed to dream up in any event, "Nothing's immediately wrong, Chris. I just want a little chat, okay?"

"Immediately?"

He was nothing if not fast at spotting rogue words, "Well, yes," I said, "Nothing you've done today. Or yesterday, for that matter. Or the day before that. Or-" 

Chris mercifully interrupted my rambling before nerves got the better of me, "Mum! I get it. It's nothing I've done in the past few days. What is it, though?"

For all the preparation and rehearsal in front of the mirror, the words didn't exactly flow from me - but at least I tried, "Look, Chris, I'm sure it's nothing; sure it's just me being a stupid over-protective mother; sure it's... nothing really."

"That helps," he shrugged sitting himself on the end of his bed.

"Okay, okay," I sighed, committed now but making a terrible job of it so far, "I want to have a quiet word-"

"Or a thousand."

"A quiet word - shut up, Pups - about... well about your sex life."

My son's eyes opened wide, "My... sex life?"

I nodded and sat myself at his desk.

"Mum, I don't have a sex life. Yet, anyway."

"I know," I somehow managed, "And that just makes me wonder... well, why exactly?" This time I didn't allow his attempted interruption. I'd reached the crux of my topic, and I was determined to carry on before my nerve deserted me completely, "I mean, you're not ugly, are you? And you're smart, even witty sometimes, and surely there must be some girl... or guy who would be more than happy to have you as their boyfriend... or... well, boyfriend, I guess."

"I'm not gay, mum, so stop fretting about that."

"I'm not," I said, firmer ground somehow located in the midst of my wordy marsh, "This really isn't about your sexual preferences in that regard in any case. I'm just a bit worried that there's no one on the horizon."

"It's not something I'm desperate about," he gave a trademark shrug.

"Nor me," I assured him, "but when I was your age, most guys - and even quite a few of us girl - seemed to have 'relationships' on their minds all the time. What makes you... I mean why do you seem so unconcerned?"

"Dunno, really."

"Chris, that's no answer, and you know it. I didn't spend days plucking up courage to talk about this with you just to be shrugged off like that."

"Maybe that's it then. You've had days to prepare but I haven't. I'm not used to my own mother talking about... that aspect of my life."

He was right, of course, but I had the strongest feeling that my sudden approach would be the only way I would get anything like a straight answer - before my darling son had a chance to spend a few days coming up with feasible excuses that he knew would sound right to my inexperienced ears. "Well it's not like I have much background to call on myself, is it? All I want to know, Pups, is that my son is okay with life and... well, sexual antics are the norm for kids of your age so you not having any friends like that seems... odd to me."

"Oh, so I'm weird now?"

"Chris, no! Different, maybe, but you're not odd or weird. I'm just worried about what's probably nothing anyway!"

For the first time, my son's guard slipped a fraction, "I'm fine, mum, I promise."

I saw the chink in his armour and don't blame me for it - any mother would do the same - but I went for it with all guns blazing, "Is it something I've done? Something I've said? Haven't I said often enough you can bring friends back here? Chris, babes, I wasn't joking about any of that, you know? I'd even take myself out for a night at Stephie's if that's what you wanted. I'd-"

"Mum! Don't! I know, okay? I know you mean all of that stuff."

I could feel the chink closing and I wasn't ready for his defences again, "So why then? Why haven't you got a friend like that?"

To my surprise and relief - at first - he seemed to relax and open a little more, "Mum, I just... It's not so easy, you know?"

I shook my head, "I thought things were so much easier these days."

He gave a snort of a laugh, lacking humour whichever way you looked at it, "Easy? Sure."

"You mean... you have at least tried to get... well... involved, I guess."

Christopher gave another shrug but this wasn't a trademark sulky teenager's shoulder twitch - this carried resignation, "I'm just not..."

He'd said more but even from a couple of feet away I couldn't make out the words. "You're just not... what?"

"I said," he sighed in what was clearly surrender, "I'm just not confident enough, I guess. I start to talk to a girl and I get all tongue-tied."

"Well at least you start to talk-"

"Mum, don't! Do you really want to hear this?"

I nodded, aware of how delicate the situation had become. My boy was on the verge of truly opening up to me, and I really thought that's what I needed just then. "Tell me," I said, softly.

He took a deep breath and nodded to himself, "If you really must know than, I do more than talk to girls. I've dated a few. Some more than just a couple of times. But... but..."

I bit my lip and just muttered, "Go on, baby. If I can help I will."

"You can't," he muttered before another deep breath. "Look. Mum, I go out with them and sure the subject of... well, sex... comes up and I just kinda freeze, okay?"

"Freeze?"

This time the shrug was back to its teenage guise, "I can't think of what to say or what to do, I suppose."

"Do you mean it's embarrassing or..."

"It's the 'or', mum. Assuming you were going to say 'or stiflingly nervous'."

I couldn't help myself. I laughed, "Oh babes, you're-"

He shot to his feet, "See? I knew it! Knew it was stupid to tell you anything! You can't help. No one can. I even want to swear about it but I can't because you don't let me say anything I want to!"

It's odd how some reactions have such unexpected effects. My son's anger sloughed away the last of my embarrassment and nervousness, "Chris, sit back down." To my surprise he did, and then even more surprisingly looked directly at me. I nodded, "For a start, swearing is a perfectly acceptable recourse to language options under certain circumstances. I guess this is one of those fucking times, okay?" A smile twitched at his lips, "And Chris? It's not stupid, the way you have reacted. If you lack confidence in such matters, then maybe that's as much my fault as anyone's. You certainly didn't ask me to kick your father out of the door and I guess that has left you with few home-based options when it comes to discussing this sort of thing."

"I don't blame you, mum. I can't imagine I'd have had any time or chance to talk to him either. Dad was always a bit... pre-occupied, wasn't he?"

I nodded, "You mean so far up his own arse he could lick his teeth clean from the back?"

Finally, Chris laughed, "Yeah, mum, I guess I do. He was a total... prick."

"That wasn't so hard, was it, my newly foul-mouthed baby?" But seriously... surely there're friends you could talk with?"

The last piece of armour fell away, "They sort of passed me by. I guess I was too het up with other sh... stuff... no, shit... when that sort of thing was the big thing to talk about and by the time I was ready most of them were already long past the talking stage."

"So me and your dad splitting up was the real cause, then?"

He shook his head, "It was a distraction but I'm not so sure I could have opened up enough anyway. I guess I'm just one of those guys who doesn't let things out."

"Well here's your chance," I told him, happy that he had finally opened up to me, at least. It was a chance to redeem myself, "What could I have ever said or done that might have helped?"

"Nothing," he muttered, the armour being donned again in front of my eyes.

"I don't believe you," I told him, "I'm all too aware that certain subjects have been off the radar here and now I'm aware they shouldn't have been. I guess I just wasn't ready to be a mother to a teenage son all alone, quite like that. So come on, let's start setting the record straight and see if that helps you any. What might you have asked if I wasn't so anal about all that... shit?"

"It's not funny, mum."

"Believe or not that was accidental. 'Shit' and 'anal', I ask you... silly. But no, come on, I mean it. What might you have asked back when you really needed to?"

Chris sat forward, "I'm not really sure. This is all so sudden for me, you know? Maybe... probably stuff like 'how was it for you back then when you started to learn about things'?"

I nodded, relieved that I'd finally got him to relax a little, and it was a question I had prepared for, "I was no little ice maiden, that's for sure. You know your nan and granddad well enough and believe me they were just as wide open and with-it back when I was a kid. They weren't exactly encouraging me to enjoy 'free love' or whatever they called their romps, but they sure never made life difficult for me in that regard. I have a feeling that maybe it's made me a little too opposite when it comes to you. Believe me, I certainly knew my way around a guy - and a girl - by the time I was your age. Remember, I was your age when I got pregnant with you!"

He'd spotted the rogue word again, though, "Girl? Do you mean..."

It was my turn to shrug, "Nan and granddad always made it clear that you never knew until you tried, Well, I tried and didn't enjoy it nearly as much as... guys."

Apparently I had impressed my son, "Wow, mum! You were... like, really active back at my age?"

"It's not a great thing," I admonished gently, "Not that I haven't loved one product of the wild days ever since he was born!"

"Over eighteen years ago, I know, I know. But jeez, mum, you mean you had actually... done plenty by my age?"

"I'm not exactly proud of it, but yeah I guess so."

He huffed, "Wish I could have been around then and met someone like you."

I laughed, flattered in a silly way, "I have a feeling my life would have turned out quite, quite differently if there had been someone like you around."

"Yeah, you wouldn't have been lumbered with a teenage pregnancy, that's for sure!"

"It was a shock, certainly but I never felt 'lumbered' with you!"

"That's the thing, though, isn't it?" My son's mood was swinging back to the dark side, "I'd never have come on to you, let alone got you pregnant!"

I sighed, "Oh, come on, Pups! I might have been entirely smitten with you!"

"Smitten? Mum, I haven't even seen a naked tit, let alone been ready to get a smitten girl pregnant!"

Now that rocked me back in the chair - and not because my mild-mannered, mega-polite, son had used the word 'tit'. It was far more to the point that he had used it in that way. "You mean you've never..." I tailed off, my embarrassment returning.

The defensive shrug was back with reinforcements, "You wanted to know, right? Well there it is, okay? Happy now? Is it any surprise I get cowardly around girls?"

It rang through my mind and body. Jeez, by the time I was my boy's age I sure knew what a tit looked like, and I wasn't referring to the mirror. I knew by his age what one tasted like, and I was female for heaven's sake. And by then there had been a lot of guys who knew what mine looked like... "Oh my baby, what have I done to you?"

He shook his head and I could see his facial muscles clenching and unclenching. "It's not your fault, mum."

My son, my damn-near grown-up son, was close to tears and whatever he had just said, I knew that I was as culpable as anyone, "Oh Chris, I just wanted you to be polite and respectful to women... to others. I never, ever, meant for you to miss out on...'

"Sex?"

"No! I was going to say 'life', but okay, now you come to say it, yes, on sex as well." My returned embarrassment was having to take a back seat to the incredulity I was now feeling. "Oh for fuck's sake! What have I done to you!"

Chris was shaking his head now, but his control over his tears was slipping and when I stared, sorrowful and shocked, into his face, I could see the salty glitter on his lower lashes. Somehow he managed to splutter, "It's not... not your fault, mum."

My mind was whirling, "It is though, isn't it? Oh damn it, Pups, sure I would have found it a bit embarrassing at first but... shit, why couldn't I have just seen what I should have been doing, been talking to you about?" I skipped out of the chair and onto the bed beside my son, pulling him to me as his tears spilled out, "Oh, baby, no, please don't!" My own tears started to well, "Where's fucking H.G. and his time machine now when I really, really need one?"

His shoulders started to heave, It's... it's okay..."

"No. No, baby, no it isn't. I've been so... stupid! Me and my stupid, ridiculous... pride. So full of myself doing the 'nice' thing, so keen to put my little tart days behind me, to hide my own past from my beautiful boy! When, jeez! It would have been so helpful, so easy! Should have been!" That mind of mine had well and truly whirled away by then, "Oh baby, what can I do to make it up to you? How can I make amends?"

Okay, Okay, I know what I said right then. I know how it could be interpreted in so many different ways. It doesn't matter now, does it? I'd set myself up for a difficult conversation, full of chances for some hard, hard news, but not for a second - one single second - had I prepared myself for what I was feeling right then. I can make every excuse to myself now to justify my words, justify how this mother wanted just to help her son, maybe make amends for years of what was little more than neglect - not the nasty neglect that all too many parents display, but neglect of a type that could in some ways be more mean, have a life-changing effect. I could try to portray that reproachful mother to you - and the lords know I have tried it on myself for weeks now - but there's one other thing you really need to know.

When I asked my Pups how I could make amends I immediately realised just how he could interpret what I had just said. And the most amazing thrill coursed through me. 

There. Said it. It was as unexpected as a lottery win, and to me, right then, just as unlikely. But it happened. I'd said it and it had the most amazingly shocking, delightful effect on me. 

And even as, beside me and in a shocked whisper, my Chris said, "You don't mean it, though, do you?", from somewhere deep inside me I was already formulating a plan to continue things. 

Where to? I had no idea. Why? Oh please. I still have no clue. How? Ah, well that's where I am able to fill you in.

I grasped my son's face in both hands and made sure he was looking directly into my eyes. "But I do mean it, Pups. I've been so callous in neglecting even the most basic lessons I could have shared with you, and look where that's got you now! What every young male needs and craves, it's passed you by, hasn't it? And all because of my lack of attention." Every word was sending sparks coursing through my nerves, building an inner tension I never even knew was present. "I will make this up to you, Pups, and I will make sure you know I mean it." The fuse inside me which I had lit with my original words now reached the explosive. My hands dropped to my lap and I gripped the bottom of my t-shirt. "Look at me, Pups. I know I'm not some cute little teenager any more, but if you want proof that I really mean to help you any way I can... well, look at me now."

Without any possibility of allowing my conscious mind - my conscience, even - to question me, I raised my hands, still gripping the hem of my top, in one swift motion. I pulled it over my head and sat back a little in just skirt and bra now, my libido already blanking rational thought. "There? See that I mean it all? My poor baby hasn't seen a topless woman in the flesh before because of me, well doesn't this prove that I meant it when I said I'd make things up to you?"

Chris's mouth was hanging open and he swallowed hard before starting to say, "But, mum.., you're... you're-" 

"Still not a topless woman? No, you're right. No, no, don't interrupt." I reached behind my back and unclipped my bra without any thought except that my groin suddenly felt on fire with a sensation that I had not felt for twenty years. As the flimsy garment fell away from my pretty small, but still pretty perky, breasts, an excitement crashed through me. "There! Is that better? Does that prove what I meant?"

My boy's eyes were fixed on my bared breasts and I swear it felt as if they were somehow caressing me. When he could do no more than gape wordlessly, I reached and grabbed his hands, "I know I'm no sweet little thing anymore but I really meant it, Pups. I would do anything to make things up to you!"

He coughed and finally found his voice - nervously, "Oh mum, it doesn't matter you're not eighteen again! You're f... you're gorgeous!"

"Maybe to you, baby - and if this is too much then just you say. Not eighteen and I'm your mother, I know, but well..."

If Chris hadn't interrupted me then it might all have been so different.

"But nothing, mum!" It was his turn to gabble away without apparent thought, "I might not have seen a real breast before but I've seen loads of photos, and I don't give a toss that you're my mum. This is... I mean you are... well... gorgeous!"

"I'm your first, is all, but it's lovely of you to-"

"I'm not just being nice, mum! I mean... wow!"

His second interruption destroyed any chance I had of finding the scattered remnants of my common sense. "That's really sweet, but I'm not fishing for compliments. I'm sitting here like this because I want to please my boy - and do you know something? It's pleasing me on more than a purely maternal level."

"What... what does that mean?"

I laughed, all too easily, "It means that this is... nice for me too."

"You mean that?"

I nodded, "Yep. I do. I wanted to make amends but it's better than just recompense. So stop being so embarrassed, because my tits might be on show, but I'm not at all embarrassed now."

That seemed to work in ways I had never dreamed possible, "You don't... mind me looking?"




Communication



"Oh, my baby. Not at all, not in the slightest. I always tell you to be honest and open about things, don't I? Well I'm very happy here like this so just say whatever you feel like."

It really was working now, "Mum... you have the loveliest br... tits!"

"Not too small for you?"

"Thirty-two c isn't that small, especially on a little thing like you."

"Oh, so you know my bra size?" As if I wasn't thrilled already, now I was feeling genuine arousal.

"Sorry but yeah, I do. I've... looked before."

I patted his thigh, "It's okay, I hear that a lot of boys 'look' at their mums' bras. I bet not too many ever look so hard at their contents though. So, anyway, not too small is good, now what else is on that fevered mind of yours?"

"I can't believe I used to suckle on them."

"Do I have to try to work out what you really mean?"

"Mum, I don't know how to say-"

This was so wild and unexpected but I didn't want anything to stop just then, "You don't know how to say that you can't believe you used to suckle on these," I cupped my beasts briefly, "And now you're wondering what it would feel like to do the same these days? Is that it?" I could feel heat and moisture building between my thighs.

"Well..."

"I'm wondering about that too, Pups."

Without another word I eased down onto his mattress, onto my shoulders. I held my arms wide. "Let's find out together, baby."

I thought for a moment when Chris just sat and stared that maybe I'd moved too far, too fast. But then he nodded, and before I could allow myself a moment of doubt, his head dropped and his mouth drew my right nipple awkwardly between his suddenly eager lips.

It was as if a firework had exploded inside my groin and my breast sang in my boy's mouth. "Oh my baby! Oh yes!"

Chris's mouth sucked greedily at first one breast then the other and I stroked his hair, whispering a constant stream of encouragement to him. I was lost now and my free hand snaked down to my thigh, tugging my skirt up higher, unashamedly exposing my dampened panties where I began to rub my overheated pussy. The touch of my fingers was as mesmerising as my son's eager mouth and my already absent mind seemed to take a few steps further from my panting body.

It was a few seconds before I noticed the absence of pressure on my bared breasts and I looked up to find Chris staring down at my busy hand. I was drunk on lust and his gaze cranked up the pressures to delirious new heights. "I'm guessing," I breathed hard "that if you'd never seen a bare tit before tonight, then you've never seen a bare pussy either, have you?"

I swear he whimpered, shaking his head.

I unbuttoned then unzipped my skirt, letting it fall either side of my body and before I could allow conscious thought to challenge me, I slipped my hands under the elastic of my panties' waistband and lifted my butt off of the bed, pushing them down in one easy stroke. I don't know which of us gasped more loudly as my nudity was completed. I resumed the fingering and rubbing as my son stared and stared.

A thought struck my fevered mind. "I understand if you need to play as well, you know?"

When Chris immediately laid his fingers on top of mine, my trimmed pubic hairs brushing his fingertips, I choked back a scream of surprised delight. "Oh, baby, yes..." I choked back a snorted laugh, "I actually meant if you have to play with yourself but don't you dare stop now!"

"Don't need to, really," his voice was quavery, "I already cum in my shorts when I saw your gorgeous tits."

I hadn't thought I could be any more aroused. Wrong. "I have the strongest f-f-feeling that you might be going to see me cum all too soon... No fair..."

If Chris was embarrassed he didn't show it by moving his hand, and his head ducked back down to a bare nipple. "Sure you don't want to see that," he managed.

It came to me then, suddenly and unannounced, that I really did. "Fair and open, that's the rule," I gasped, sliding my fingers from beneath his and pressing my son's hand hard against my pussy. I released it when I knew he wasn't moving it away and started to push at his shorts.

My son removed hands and mouth from my naked body but before I could protest, he stood and scrambled out of his own t-shirt and shorts, his smooth young cock springing free, before he dived back beside me and re-engaged both his mouth and his hands.

I looked down at that hard cock, bouncing as he sucked and fingered me, "You're hard for someone who cum not so long ago."

"Twice," he muttered, "Pussy sent me over the edge too."

"Oh baby, baby, baby. If I was a really good mother, don't you think I should help you with that?" I think we both knew what I meant, but Chris was still unsure.

His head snapped up, and he stared down at me. His hand, though, stayed at my groin and whether subconsciously or simply because I was now flooding the bed with my juices, one of his fingers penetrated the soft folds of my womanhood. "Oh, mum... do you mean..."

"I mean, Pups, I want you to think of this as a crash course in how a woman looks and feels." I reached down and grasped his rigid cock, "Or maybe I should just be more open and honest. I really, really feel like I need a good hard fuck, baby, and guess who I want to be fucking me? Fucking his mummy?"

Chris didn't seem to be able to catch his voice, but that didn't stop him spinning up onto his knees and shuffling quickly between my now wide open legs. 

I pulled gently then, guiding his engorged member towards my warmth and wetness. The tip of it met my slit and if I'd thought I felt excitement and arousal before, then that touch took it to heights that I had never imagined. My Chris didn't need any more guidance now and he started to push. I could feel my lips slowly parting, my own baby's cock feeling so big and hard as it entered my pussy. The gentle resistance of the muscles inside me was overcome in a second and he slid his member home, deep inside me.

I let out a mewl of delight and stared up into his shell-shocked features. I smiled and nodded, "Yes, baby, you're in me." I rocked my hips upwards, burying him even deeper, "You and me, my Pups, are fucking. I love you, angel."

"Oh mum! Your..."

"Pussy?"

He nodded, "Yeah, your pussy feels... like heaven!"

"So, explore it, fuck it!"

"I... don't think I'll last long."

"I don't expect you to, not for a first time inside a woman, and I've got news for you, babes - I won't last long myself this time."

Chris was beginning to gather pace, his eager young cock filling me in a most delightful way, "I can't believe this is happening to me."

"To us, Pups, now how about we kiss?"

"I've only done that a few times, but really, can I?"

"Well given you've never fucked before, this is not bad at all. And you've had at least some practice in kissing, so come on if you want to." 

He leaned down then and kissed me, finding my lips at the second attempt, his eagerness almost too much, but his tongue between my teeth made me gasp with delight. Kissing and breathing at the same time seemed a little beyond him yet and he soon raised his head, panting hard. He was delightfully unfazed by it all though. "You keep saying we're... well, we're fucking. Is that the same as making love? Because I do love you mum."

"And I love you, Pups, so yeah we're making love. But real raw passion, well, that's kinda more like 'fucking'. It can be both though - just like now."

"So that means we're making love and...fucking?"

I nodded, really panting now, "Oh yeah. Do you like making love to me? Like fucking your mummy? Like having that gorgeous, smooth, hard cock in my pussy?"

His increase in pace was all the answer I needed, but he managed to grunt a 'yes'.

"Oh babes, I'm close... Oh yes... and before you... ask... when you cum... don't you dare... oooh babes... don't you dare pull out of me. I... I... want your lovely young... cum to fill... fill mummy's pussy!"

"Oh mum... mummy!"

My son's hips started to crash against mine, our movements starting to twitch as we bucked and moaned. 

And then I felt the spark ignite a powderkeg deep inside me and my orgasm started to rise through my body and mind. "Oh... oh baby! You're making... making mummy cum! Oh fuck yesssss!"

With a strangled cry of "mummy!" I felt my Chris erupt inside me, yet more of his cum spilling out as this time he started to fill me.

I howled as the tsunami whirled me up to the stars.

It made my ears ring, a fuzziness washing through me as climax after climax ignited every nerve fibre, and it was some minutes before I recovered enough to find my Chris staring down at me, a crooked smile plastered across his sweaty features.

"Thanks," I managed.

"That's my line," he said, "But before I take my... cock out of you, did you say something about 'this time' - does that mean there'll be more times?"

"Did I really say that? No, don't bother to answer. Yes there can be more times, if you don't think it's all just a happy one-off thing for you and now you can go and find a real girl."

"Mum no-"

"Shush a minute, you. You really have got to go find yourself a girl - for a start, you're a great fuck - but - shush some more - but that doesn't mean to say I don't want more, myself. If you do?"

Chris surprised and delighted me by rocking his hips again, his erection still rather firm inside me, "I do understand about the girl thing, mum, but... I know this is pretty weird shit, but I sure don't want it to end just yet."

"Sounds like you were giving that some thought while I was away with the fairies," I paused, "You're starting to fuck me again, aren't you? Here's a lesson for you - it's only polite to ask permission."

"I might have asked you when you were off with the fairies."

"And what exactly did I say, Pups?" I started to rock my hips in time with my son's.

He was getting harder with every thrust, "Well, you said yes and then something else..."

"Oh, did I?"

"Uh huh. You said I have to call you mummy when we fuck like this."

My eyes sprang wide, "Oh babes, you might not have much experience yet but you're fast, fast learner."

I started to whimper again when he said 'thank you, mummy'.



Communication and Trust



This is a flash story: no character development, nothing in-depth, nothing serious, written just for fun. I have a sense of humor, twisted maybe, and this is gallows humor.

*****

In a small meeting room outside a courtroom in a county seat in rural Iowa.

Scott Jones and his three friends were talking with their court appointed lawyer before their hearing. Scott was excited and angry. "She was going to make me look like a fool. She was having 3-ways behind my back. I overheard her on the phone, that bitch. She was talking about it over 10 minutes three times. I heard her do it. Bitch kept saying that they knew how to do it and that they'd be completely satisfied. She put on her little girl voice, so submissive. BITCH. No way she could deny it. We aren't even married and she is cheating on me. I'm not going to be a fool in front of everybody. No way sir. Everybody is going to know not to fuck with me." 

With only 5 minutes before this initial hearing, their lawyer attempted to reason with the 4 of them. "It is all in your best interest to be quiet, to look penitent and settle if we can. If you are quiet in this hearing, you can give me an answer on how to go forward when this hearing is over. If you say anything, it will not go well. You all need to make that decision." The bell rang and they all filed into court.

After everyone was seated, the Judge asked the clerk to read the charges. "Mr. Scott Jones is charged with damaging the personal property of Ms. Emma Riley. He vandalized her car, took all her personal property out if their common apartment and sprayed water over everything, including her extensive electronics. 

"In a related manner, Mr. Bill Mayer, Mr. Bob Hinckley and Mr. George Bradley are charged with the criminal damage to the property of Max Contractors. They broke windows of his service truck, scratched and defaced the exterior of the truck and sprayed water into the dashboard and engine. Ms. Riley is the office manager at Max Contractors"

The judge looked down at the four men, then at their court appointed attorney. "Counselor, how do these men plead?" "Not Guilty your honor" was the response. Scott was about to speak, but two of his friends pulled him back and put a hand over his mouth. When he finished struggling, the judge asked Scott if he had something to say. With great restraint, Scott shook his head no. He was not happy.

At this point a lawyer asked to approach the bench. Genevieve Hansen, 75, with her walker and an oxygen tank walked to the bench. The judge looked down and warmly greeted her. "Gene, how are you doing? And what brings you out of retirement?"

"Larry, I'm doing fine, as fine as can be with all these medical devices. I tell you, the years of smoking when I was younger, well, I'm just paying for it now. You remember, both Curt and I had bypasses, and that was 10 years after we quit smoking. And it's been 10 years since that. Well anyway, that's water under the bridge. We're still attempting to keep active.

"Back to the matter of this case, I was getting some work done at the house to make it easier for Curt and me to remain in the home. Looking out the window, I saw the contractor's truck being vandalized. I called the police and then started recorded it on my phone. What did we ever do before smart phones? 

"Let me get to my formal role here. I am here to represent my clients, Max Contracting and his receptionist, Emma Riley. We are asking for restitution for the damage that these men caused. Emma was a fiancée to Mr. Scott Jones when Mr. Jones and his friends, with no provocation or warning began to viciously verbally attack Ms. Riley and then physically attack the property of Max Contracting and Ms. Riley. 

"We are asking the court to award Max Contracting $23,000 in compensatory damages and $30,000 in punitive damages.

"We are asking the court to award Emma Riley $8,000 in compensatory damages and $15,000 in punitive damages.

"In addition, we are asking for an order of protection is placed against these 4 men to not have any contact with any of the litigants or their families."

The four men were now in shock. Getting arrested in a small town is nothing new. Everybody knows everybody's business. But this kind of money? Order of protection? They were all caught red handed, all recorded with smart phones. This was not looking good.

The judge looked at the four men. "I will grant your request for an order of protection and will set bail at $10,000 each. That should be enough to keep you all out of trouble. Any questions? If you violate this order, you will go to jail and remain there until your trial." All four men shook their heads no. "Court is now dismissed."

Looking over at Gene, he waved her over to the bench. They started talking about old times while the defendants were speaking quietly to their lawyer. Just as the defendants were getting up to leave, the judge asked Gene what kind of work she was getting done at the house, and if she liked the contractors. He needed some work done and work of mouth means everything. "Well, Max Contracting is quiet and professional. The new windows are great. However, they did have some problems with retrofitting the family and kitchen room with a couple of 3-way light switches. They had to call me back three times before they got it right."

Scott turned white as a sheet, fainted and fell to the floor.



Communication Breakdown



"Oh, yeah," she breathed. "That's so much better..."

Lori had just removed her shoes, skirt, stockings, blouse and bra. She retrieved an oversized sweatshirt from her suitcase and pulled that on over her panties, then settled back into the stuffed chair between the bed and the door to wait for 10:00. "As usual," she thought. "I must be a glutton for punishment!" 

Despite the recent problems with their marriage, or perhaps because of them, David and Lori had kept up the practice of IM'ing each other when she was out of town on business, as she often was. It was much cheaper than the phone, as long as the hotel had a computer in the room. Lately, she dreaded their communications. They usually turned into bouts of accusations and thinly veiled threats, and left them both angry and unsatisfied. Face-to-face talks were no better.

This last few months had been unsettling for her. Lori had suspected David of cheating on her when she was out of town, after finding a woman's name and address in his shirt pocket. He'd acted defensive when she inquired about it, then got angry. He eventually tried to deflect the blame from himself by accusing her of the same thing.

"Huh! I wish!" she thought, as she gazed wistfully at the bed. It occurred to her once again that that might be just what she needed. At 26, at what should be the prime of her life, she sometimes felt like she was 60! 

* * *

This was Lori's third overnight trip in the last three months since she had taken on the new position of District Sales Manager, and unfortunately, her first with Henry, her boss. He was a lecherous fool! After she had made it abundantly clear that she would tolerate no funny business from him, he had pretty much ignored her tonight as they sat in the hotel bar, instead hitting on every unaccompanied female in the room. He finally connected with one, a rather mousy-looking alcoholic with bad breath, and invited her to their table. Thankfully, he eventually convinced her to go up to his room. As he left, he winked at Lori. Gads!

She settled back into the booth to finish her drink. Suddenly a melodic voice from over her shoulder said, "I thought he'd never leave." As Lori turned to look, an attractive middle-aged man slid into the opposite side of the booth.

"I'm getting ready to leave," she said flatly, not in the mood for company, especially not a man twenty years older than herself.

"You can't," he said. "I just ordered another Tom Collins for you."

She looked him right in the eye. "That doesn't mean I have to drink it," she said. He laughed, a low, resonant laugh, and nodded at her.

"You're right. But then how in the world would you ever get to know me, if not for the barrier-dissolving properties of alcohol?"

Lori considered for a moment. Okay, she told herself. She decided she really did crave some company other than her lecherous boss, and this guy, other than being a bit presumptuous, seemed easy to talk to, not to mention being easy on the eyes! She also had over an hour and a half before David and she were to IM each other. She was tired, and she knew she couldn't take a bath for an hour and a half, and still remain awake for their talk. "One drink," she stated, and he smiled broadly.

During the next hour he completely charmed her with stories of his wife and kids, his job as a sportscaster, and his philosophies on life, which, remarkably, were pretty much in line with hers. He also kept her glass full, and she eventually agreed to dance with him.

The music was live piano music, perfect for dancing slow, and there were a few couples already on the floor. During the first song he held her left hand high, his left on her waist. When they began the second dance, she put both arms around his neck, and told him that this was how she was used to dancing. He laughed softly and said, "Oh, not like the couple on top of the wedding cake?" Then he slid his hands around her waist.

"I don't know that couple," she deadpanned. It certainly didn't fit her and David.

By the third dance Lori had let her head rest on his shoulder, and by the fourth his hands were dropping lower and lower, until they rested on the tops of her ass cheeks. At that point she decided things were getting out of hand and disentangled herself from him.

"I need to go," she said, realizing she was becoming drunk. He raised his eyebrows questioningly, and she told him she always talked to her husband at 10:00.

"Will you be back?" he asked, leading her back to the booth, where she leaned over and downed the last of her drink. She told him no, that she was going to get into bed, and his eyebrows went up again.

"Yes, alone," Lori laughed, in answer to his unasked question. "Goodnight, and thank you for a wonderful evening." She left the bar.

* * *

Now she was waiting patiently for 10:00 and the online call she both dreaded and looked foward to, but she couldn't get the handsome stranger out of her mind. She let her hands wander to her breasts, swallowed up though they were in the sweatshirt, and began to trace circles around each nipple, as she imagined him doing the same thing. "Ummmm, that would be nice," she thought to herself, and her nipples responded accordingly.

Lori's breasts weren't big, as she was tall and thin, but they had always been extremely sensitive, and she could usually bring herself to orgasm if she fondled them long enough. Tonight she was well on her way! She thought of the impressive bulge in the stranger's slacks as they danced, though he made a point of not pressing it into her. That made it all the more exciting; the little brushes with it, and its hardness! She let one hand drop to her belly, and slipped it down over the top of her panties onto her mound.

The reaction was electric! Her clit was already hard, the lips swollen around it. She began to stroke them softly through the material. "Ohhhhhhh," she breathed, as she spread her legs.

*ding!*

Damn! It was David! Feeling a combination of frustration and like she'd been caught by the hall monitor, Lori raced over to the computer desk. She clicked on and read his first message.

David says: hey. give me 5 minutes. Donnie doesn't want to go to bed.

She groaned. "God," she thought, "In five more minutes I could have had myself screaming!" Oh well, at least she didn't have to deal with their 3 year-old tonight. David could handle this. She padded back to the stuffed chair, but before she could sit there was a knock at the door.

She walked to the door. "Who is it?" she called, and heard a familiar voice.

"The big bad wolf," it said, and laughed. Lori opened the door slightly, as far as the security bar would allow, and smiled at her friend from the bar. He looked around comically and said, "Is your husband gone?"

She laughed. "No," she said. "He's busy right this minute. He's calling back in a couple of minutes."

He smiled and said, "Okay. I just wanted to give you this." He handed her his business card through the opening and said, "I thought you might want to know who you were falling for tonight. I'd sure like to know your name."

Lori turned the card over in my hand. "Well, Marshall, my name is Lori. With an 'i'," she added. "If you wait a moment, I'll give you one of my cards." She left the door ajar and turned to get one of hers from her purse when she heard it:

*ding*

"Just a minute!" she yelled to Marshall, as she ran back to the computer.

David says: 5 more...

Shit! Talk about being torn between two men! She was a human ping-pong ball, running back and forth! Lori went back to the bedside table and pulled a card from her purse. She returned to the door and handed it out through the opening, but no one was there to take it.

"Marshall?"

Where the hell did he go, so fast? she thought. She shut the door, pulled the security bar back, and reopened it to look down the hall. As she did, he swept through the open door and took her in his arms dramatically, kissing her as he walked her backwards. His foot kicked the door shut.

It was a good kiss. A very good kiss!

Lori felt she should fight him, but his lips were so soft and pliant on hers. That, and the fact that she was still buzzing from the drinks and her little self-love session! She relaxed and allowed him to kiss her. "Damn," she thought, "He's a good kisser!" His arms held her securely, and there was no mistaking his excitement now. His cock was insistent against her groin.

When they finally broke, he said, "I knew you'd come to your senses. Now, let's get rid of this husband of yours!"

The idea was so insane that Lori laughed out loud. 

"Marshall? Are you crazy?" she asked, looking at him incredulously. He was grinning like a Cheshire cat, his hands wrapped possessively around her waist. Suddenly she thought that maybe she was the crazy one. She was half-dressed, in the arms of someone whom she had just learned the name of, not five minutes ago! This was so wrong! And yet, he was so.....Attractive. Accessible. "And, yes," she thought...."sexy."

Reading her thoughts, he pulled her close and kissed her again. This time she kissed him back. Hard. Their mouths opened, and soon their tongues were battling each other for space in the other's mouth. Marshall's hands pulled her against his hard-on again, and he began to grind against her hips, rubbing his thickness up and down against her belly.

"Oh, godddddd," she hissed, spreading her legs slightly to give him better access to her sex. Lori leaned her head back and let herself be pleasured by the pressure of his cock against her cotton-clad mound. Up and down, back and forth he moved against her; not roughly, but smoothly and insistently.

*ding*

She started, suddenly brought out of her stupor. David, again! 

Annoyed now, Lori separated herself from Marshall and turned to the computer. Seating herself before it, she read his message, half-hoping it would say '5 more minutes.' No such luck!

David says: hey. whatcha doin?

She began to type, her mind a jumble of thoughts and emotions.

Lori says: nothing

She waited. Suddenly, Marshall's hands came around her neck from behind, and dropped onto her breasts. "God, I want you," he breathed into her neck, as he began to plant little kisses up and down her shoulder and neck.

David says: miss me?

"Wow, how do I answer that?" she thought. Her fingers hovered over the keys for a moment.

Lori says: sorta

Sorta? God, what kind of an answer was that? Marshall's hands were setting her nipples afire through the sweatshirt, and her brain was starting to buzz. She couldn't think clearly.

David says: What did u do tonite?

Oh, the irony! Lori smiled. "Nothing yet, dear," she thought; but she wasn't so sure, if he asked her an hour from now, what she'd be able to answer! This man behind her was driving her crazy with his lips and his hands, and she was rapidly losing her focus on her absent husband.

Lori says: drank. danced. just a little

David says: with who?

Oh, just an incredible-looking, sexy guy I met in the hotel bar! "No," she thought. "That wouldn't do."

Lori says: just some guy

She waited, wondering what was going through David's mind. The answer came quickly.

David says: What guy?

Lori wasn't going to go into any further description of the guy, with his hands now sliding up under her sweatshirt; those hands so soft and warm on her breasts, the thumbs gently flicking her nipples. She sucked in her breath and arched her back. Marshall continued to nuzzle her neck with his lips.

David says: where is he now?

She stared at the monitor, her blood pounding in her head. Marshall leaned into her again and said, "Go ahead. Tell him."

Her fingers hung over the keys. Her breath was coming in short little gasps, her hips were flexing against the chair bottom, and she had never wanted someone so badly in her life. Two words:

Lori says: he's here

"Oh, god," she thought, as soon as she saw her message appear. The shit shall now hit the fan! On an impulse, she typed again.

Lori says: i'm sorry

"He might as well know," Marshall said from behind her, his fingers dancing across her breasts, and at the moment she could only agree with him.

David says: what are u doing?

Without even thinking twice about it, Lori raised her arms to allow Marshall to pull her sweatshirt off, then took a deep breath and prepared to type again.

Lori says: nothing

"Sure," she thought. "He'll believe that one!" She lay back against Marshall's neck as he ran his hands up and down her body, and felt herself getting wet. "Oh, god," she thought. "What do I do now?"

Lori says: gotta go

Lori let herself be pulled up from the chair, and she turned to fold herself into his arms again. They kissed, their hands ranging over each other, their breathing became more and more ragged. He released her, finally, and slid one arm around her waist, preparing to lead her toward the bed.

*ding*

She barely heard the computer as she allowed herself to be lowered onto her back on the bed. Marshall smiled sexily at her and began to undress.

*ding* *ding*

"He's worried about you," he said, and Lori suddenly smiled up at him, aware of David once again.

"Shouldn't he be?"

"Tell him," he said again, and pulled her up by one hand. 

"Oh, god, I don't want to do this," she thought, as she padded to the computer, keenly aware of Marshall's eyes on her backside. She found that incredibly sexy.

She read David's message.

David says: should I call the police?

Lori leaned over the keyboard, and her fingers flew over the keys. 

Lori says: he's got a knife. he says he won't hurt me if I cooperate.

Then, on second thought, she typed again, quickly.

Lori says: I want this. goodnight. I love you

She turned and walked back to the bed. Marshall had removed his shirt, and she ran her fingers through the graying hair on his muscular chest as she looked down at him. "Well?" he asked, knowing her decision had been made.

As an answer, Lori leaned over and reached for his belt buckle. He allowed her to unfasten it and slide his zipper down, then he kicked his slacks to the floor. She looked at the lump in the front of his boxers, and ran her tongue over her lips tentatively. Then she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his underwear and pulled down.

His manhood sprung upward. God, it was gorgeous! Big, thick, and generously veined, it begged to be kissed. She did. It was hot and throbbing with life. Lori parted her lips and let them slide forward over it. 

"Ahhhhhh," he breathed, as her lips closed over it. She tasted the bottom of his shaft with her tongue, and heard his intake of breath. His hips began to move. In the back of her mind she heard an insistent ringing. Lori realized it was her husband.

*ding* *ding* *ding*

*dingdingdingdingding*

This was getting to be annoying. Marshall was pumping into her mouth faster now, and her husband was dinging that stupid alert on the computer, and her pussy was beginning to pulse with the first stirrings of what promised to be a spectacular orgasm, and she couldn't think!

"Wait!" she yelled, tearing her mouth from his cock. He looked down at her quizzically, and she patted the fronts of his thighs before getting up. "I've got to take care of this," she said, rising to her feet and turning to the computer.

David had left rows and rows of frantic messages, all accompanied by those annoying little ding signs, until he gave up, and just kept ringing the bell in frustration. Lori could understand what he must be feeling, and knew she had to be more specific about what was happening. She sat down and began to type.

Lori says: David, I know you're wondering what is going on. I'm not so sure I know myself, but I do know that there is a man with me here who makes me feel so god-damned sexy that I'm about to explode. It isn't anything to do with you, believe me. It's all me, and I don't totally understand it myself, but I'm getting ready to fuck this guy's brains out, and there is nothing anybody could say that could stop this from happening. I need this, David. I've needed this since I gave birth to Donnie, and I've needed this since I began my quest to become an independent woman. Somehow I lost my identity back there, and became Mrs. David Standish, and nothing else. Suddenly, tonight, I have become myself again, and whether you think that is a slut or an angel, I have to do what I have to do. Tonight, that is to have this man make me feel like ME again. Now, you can ding this thing all night and I can just turn it off, but I am going to do this with or without your input, and later we can figure out what to do about all this. The choice is yours...

Lori hit send and leaned back, watching the monitor. She knew he must be reading this in a state of shock, and wondered if her choice of words was correct, but she had written it all in a rush, without taking time to compose anything. How do you compose a letter telling your husband that you're about to fuck a man you've never met?

She glanced over at the bed, and Marshall was lying on his back, completely nude now, stroking his magnificent cock slowly and looking at the ceiling. "I'll be a few minutes," she said lamely, as if telling a potential customer that she had other customers to wait on first. God! Then she saw it: 'David is typing a message', in the bottom corner. Lori waited, holding her breath.

David says: I love you. I love you more than life itself.

She typed her own message back.

Lori says: I know.

A long pause again, during which time she tried to keep her eyes off her lover and his beautiful erection, waving proudly over there behind her.

David says: be careful

Then he signed off. She sat there, staring at the resignation written in those last words, not knowing if she should feel guilty, or joyous. Her lover couldn't tell her, and she hoped he wouldn't try. It was her call. She knew one thing, however: the words she had written to David came from her aching soul. She did need this, and she knew in her heart, when Marshall appeared at her room door, that this was going to happen. If not now...

Lori rose, leaving the computer on, and walked to the bed, shedding her panties as she walked. Marshall raised his head to look at her questioningly. "Hi, lover," she said, and climbed up over him. His smile was a mile wide as she settled herself on top of him and just lay there, feeling the heat of his lust. 

"Please don't speak," she said, and listened to his breathing for a few minutes. She wanted more, though, so much more. Sliding down his body, she took him in her mouth once more.

This time she was more aggressive, and her technique soon had him bucking up into her mouth and holding her head with both hands. He had a lot of stamina, though, and after she had fellated him for almost ten minutes he began to pull on her arms, wanting her on top of him again. She crawled up his body once more.

"Your turn," he said, and rolled her over, planting his mouth over hers as he did. They shared another long, passionate kiss, and then he headed south.

"Ohhhhhhhhh, god." 

She let him lift her thighs and settle them onto his shoulders. She crossed her ankles behind his back as his hungry mouth ranged over her, licking up and down the furrow of her pussy lips, nibbling her throbbing clit, and generally driving her crazy. He crawled to his knees, raising her ass off the bed, and spread her wide with his fingers as he began stabbing his tongue into her cunt. Lori exploded.

"Oh, god! Oh, god! Oh, god!" she yelled over and over again, arching her back off the bed until only her shoulders connected her to that spot. Balanced there, she ground her pussy lustily into his face. Finally, she could take no more. She screamed.

He brought her down, slowly, lazily licking her sopping pussy as her breathing became more regular and her legs released their anaconda-like hold around his neck. Finally, she could speak.




Communication Breakdown



"Oh my god, Marshall! You drive me crazy!"

He spread her legs and lowered them to the bed, smiling down at her from between her knees. His face was wet with her cum, his lips shiny and pink. "Nah," he said. "You just needed that, that's all." He began to climb off the bed.

"Besides," he added, "I'm not done with you, yet!"

Those were the words that every woman wants to hear! Lori's husband, though he started out as quite the lover when they first met, had gotten into the habit of ten-minute sex. That's about all it took him to get off, and if she managed to get off, okay. If not, there was always next Friday. Now, she was being pulled from the bed and turned around in preparation for the next round, and she knew there was to be much more. Much, much more.

Lori leaned over the end of the bed and braced herself with her hands on the sheets. Already, Marshall was running his hands up and down her body, stroking her, teasing her. His hands cupped her breasts, and she felt his hardness against her backside. His cock slid between her thighs, and she squeezed them around it. Oh god, but he felt good! He began to slide slowly in and out between her legs, spreading her juices over the insides of her thighs. His fingertips toyed with her nipples, and she felt another orgasm starting to make its way up through her body. Already...

Then his hand went to her back, and he pushed her gently down until her head was resting on top of the bed, her ass in the air. Lori gripped the sheets in both hands and spread her legs wide. She was ready; eager, even, for his piercing thrust. 

Instead, he nuzzled the head of his cock up and down the furrow of her pussy, barely touching it. Her legs began to shake. His touch was like electricity.

She began to beg him after awhile, craving the feel of him inside her. "Oh god, please," she whimpered. "Please fuck me." She was so excited, her legs so tight, that she could barely stand. Still he teased her, occasionally slipping just the head between her clutching lips, then pulling out again. Another run up and down her cleft, then just barely back in.

"Goddamnit!" she finally yelled, unable to control her frustration any more. "Fuck me! Fuck me now!" Lori threw her ass back, and he tightened his grip on her waist. When he drove into her, she saw stars for a moment, so intense was the sensation. He began to pound into her, his balls slapping her pussy as he did, and she threw her head back and yelled out loud.

"Oh, GOOOOOODDDDDDDD!!!"

Lori came hard, her legs shaking so hard she almost collapsed. Marshall held her firmly by the waist and continued to hammer into her, even through her climax, until she was nothing more than a quaking puddle of desire, totally succumbing to her pleasure. 

The orgasms kept coming, so many she couldn't have counted them, in a long, unbroken chain. And then, suddenly, she felt him grow inside her, and knew he was coming, too. He stiffened, thrust once more, and roared his pleasure as he began to fill her with his seed.

"Oh, YEAH!!" he roared. "Oh, GOD DAMN!" His fingers were like claws in the skin of her waist as he gripped her tightly, sending jet after jet of his burning cum into her. "Oh, GOD!"

Finally he was spent. He slowly released his hold on her, and Lori collapsed onto the bed. He slid down beside her, rubbing her back softly as she tried to calm her racing heart. 

"That was nice," he said quietly. She could only groan her agreement into the sheets.

Many more pleasures were attained that night, and around 3:00 AM he roused her from her sleep. The light was on in the bathroom, and he was dressed to go.

"Don't," she pleaded, reaching for him. He smiled and patted her arm.

"Gotta go," he said. "And so do you." When she looked up at him questioningly, he nodded toward the other side of the room.

"I heard a ding awhile ago. I think you need to answer it."



Communication Skills



He was different from the others. I could tell from my first glance at his profile. And the way he phrased his ad. He had been down this road before. He knew what he wanted. And he wasn’t afraid to take it. If his tone of voice on the phone hadn’t made this clear, his body language had crystalized it during lunch. Direct eye contact. Leaning forward, but just out of reach. This was his show and he was going to run it. Always the novelist, I wanted to see how it would all play out.

There hadn’t been any real intimacy that day; I never played on a “first meet.” I always made sure these initial meetings were in a public place, so if anything happened later and I disappeared, someone, somewhere (hopefully) would remember we’d been together. Being extraordinarily picky, very few lunches evolved into anything further. This one would—I’d known it from the first time we’d spoken. We debated BDSM philosophy on the phone. The role of the Dom. The purpose of the sub. We seemed to be on the same wavelength. Lunch had done nothing to dissuade me. And the little intimacy we had shared—a few parting kisses at the end of the meal—had only whetted my appetite for what was to come.

It was a week before we could see each other again. By that time, I was crawling out of my skin with anticipation. He had told me to meet him on the northwest corner of 38th and Madison at 10am. Wear whatever I wanted, as long as there was no bra, no panties and a button-up shirt. No problem, I loved being told how to dress to please. I was there a few minutes before, enthusiasm having gotten the best of me. He came from behind and squeezed my upper arm in greeting. I don’t know if it was the surprise or the electricity he generated that made me almost gasp. He smiled salutations and then hailed a cab, pulling me along with that yet-unreleased squeeze. Once inside, he took that hand away, reached into his pocket, handed the driver an address and turned his attentions back to me.

“Where are we going?” I asked coyly. He smiled again but said nothing, instead casing me up and down with his glance, lingering at my unencumbered bustline, like a jobber sizing up a new shipment of goods.  No approval or disapproval registered on his face; he apparently had learned early that the power remains with the one who shows his cards last. I flushed from the strength of his gaze, looked down at the cab floor, lost in my thoughts.

Patience has never been my strong suit and like I might have written in one of my stories, I very much wanted to straddle him, right there in the cab, and take the kisses we had started sharing at the end of our last lunch, kisses I now felt, after a seven-day wait,  were rightfully mine. But I stopped myself. Maybe it was his powerful, no-nonsense demeanor—the very one that had propelled him so far in the business world—that made me think he wouldn’t appreciate the overture. Or maybe it was because I still hadn’t totally overcome the shyness of my youth, the Internet allowing me to appear much bolder in print than I ever was on the phone or in person. Whatever it was, I felt subdued and the best I could muster was to force my way back into his steely brown eyes. 

“May I ask you something?” I started, almost meekly.

“Anything. I told you that last time. I expect you to tell me everything you feel and ask whatever’s on your mind.”

I looked past his shoulder for a moment, regained my courage,  and then again into his eyes. “What are my parameters here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, suppose I was in a cab with you…” I started, trying to inject a little cuteness,  “And suppose I wanted to kiss you. If I did, would you look upon that kindly, as a way to provide you with pleasure, or would you see it as sexually forward, which is something I know you disapprove of…?”

A look passed over his eyes that I couldn’t quite read, but it seemed to have an approving note to it. A wry smile danced lightly on his lips as he composed a reply that he delivered in a very deliberate, almost professorial tone of voice.

“It’s a fair question. I’d want you to tell me that you wanted to kiss me. I want to know your desires at all times. It would be my choice at that point to either grant you your request or make you wait for it until a time that best suited me.”

I didn’t know what to say. I had definitely not been the answer I was counting on. I looked down, letting it sink in. His finger found its way under my chin and lifted my face up, until our gazes met again. His eyes bore deeply into mine.  “On my lap. Now.”

He had never used the imperative tense with me before and I hesitated in surprise. He did not. Without missing a beat, he pulled me onto him and I did indeed straddle him as I’d wanted to. He didn’t correct my position, much to my relief.  I decided to press my advantage and put one hand on each of his shoulders but he pulled them down and placed them behind my back. “Hands clasping opposite wrists. Now.”

“The driver…” I whispered, gesturing with my head to remind him where we were, and that we weren’t alone.

“…Has better things to do than worry about your lack of communication skills. That’s my agenda and one I intend to deal with right now.”

I shivered involuntarily as I arranged my hands and wrists as he had demanded. This had become one of his meetings. And I was the subordinate being chewed out.

“Your job is to be clear, concise and honest with me at all times. Is that understood?” he began.

“Yes. Of course,” I responded. 

“Fine. Then instead of sulking, why don’t you tell me what you want,” he continued.

“To kiss you,” I said, with utmost confidence. Now I would get what I was waiting for.

“Why do you want to kiss me?” he asked in a most patient tone of voice.

I hesitated. Maybe it wasn’t going to be all that easy. “To bring you pleasure, ” I answered in perhaps less assured a tone.

My answer apparently didn’t wash. “Why do you want to kiss me?” he repeated, his tenor becoming more direct, more insistent.

I shook my head. “To please you…” I reiterated.

Now his hands were on my breasts, searching for each nipple through my blouse. He found them easily; his tone of voice had made them stand up in response. No one had ever spoken to me like this, much as I had yearned for it.

“Again, why do you want to kiss me?”  His thumb and forefinger of his left hand imprisoned my left nipple, the same mirrored on the right. A dull squeeze, nothing earth- shattering but definitely something to grab my attention.

I thought hard. What did he want? I tried again. “Because I would enjoy the way it felt…” I admitted. His nipple squeeze lessened but by no means ended..

“Why would you enjoy it?” he asked.

I stared him straight in the eyes. He was an opponent to match wits with, whose treatment I was determined to endure. “It would feel good,” I answered again.

Not good enough apparently. Each nipple was twisted, just slightly. I grimaced and retained his gaze. “Again, why would you enjoy it?”

Damn it, I thought. He knows it’s hard for me to say these things.  I felt my breath become labored and each second I hesitated prompted him to go harder on me.

“I’d enjoy it…owww, please stop twisting so hard…I’d enjoy it because…because…because I want you…”

Slight release. Apparently, I’d done well.

“How do you want me?” he asked.

It was becoming clearer now, what he wanted. But still difficult for me to vocalize. 

“Inside me…I want you inside me.” I said it quickly so the twisting wouldn’t start again. It didn’t. I felt a slight triumph.

“Where inside you?”

This was hard for me…I had been brought up as a lady. Even as I wandered deeper and deeper into the D/s world, I had fought to retain that ladylike persona. There were some things, I felt, that should just be intuited, not spoken. “Where do you think?” I countered, somewhat sarcastically.

The sharp twist of each nipple assured me that ‘cutesy’ and ‘sassy’ had no place in this discussion. I squeezed each of my wrists in order to relieve some of the pain. It didn’t work. 

“Where do you think?” 

I searched desperately for some compassion in his eyes, but I came up empty. I decided I had little recourse here.

“In my mouth,” I whispered.

“Where? I couldn’t hear you…”

Louder this time. “In my mouth.”

“What about your mouth?” I felt the squeeze beginning again. 

“I want…I want you in my mouth.”

“What part of me?”

“Oh come on…”

Bad answer. This twist was the worst yet. I felt like my nipples were going to come off. I threw my head back in agony but that only made him more insistent.

“You…your cock…I want it in my mouth.”  Slight release, certainly not enough to bring relief.

“Where else do you want it?”

Somehow the shyness of my youth had faded fast. I was taking no more chances here, and answered quickly while still attempting to retain some semblance of dignity.

“Between my legs…I want your cock between my legs.”

“Where?” he questioned, pointedly.

“I told you,” I answered, with inadvertent impatience.

He took a bit of pity on me. His grip remained tight but no further twists. 

“My dear, considering how limited our time is together, when certain nouns and certain verbs have short, slang terms, I must insist that we use those for brevity’s sake. For example, ‘rape’ is so much easier to say than, ‘take you by force,’  don’t you agree? By the same token, each of our body parts has a specific name that I prefer we use…So I’ll ask you again and for the last time, where do you want my cock?”

I looked down. I knew I was defeated here. “My cunt,” I whispered, using a word I absolutely despised. “I want your cock in my cunt. I want to feel it inside me. I want it to fill me.”

I instantly felt the momentum shift. He released my nipples, and then slowly began massaging them with the palms of his hands through my shirt. All at once, I felt relief and humiliation and lust, all apparently congregating in the aforementioned cunt. I felt tears well up in my eyes, and I tried to choke back a sob, having always prided myself on my stoic nature in scene.

“Thank you. I appreciate your honesty,” he said softly and in the most sincere of ways. “But what have you forgotten, dear? What was to be your primary focus in this endeavor?”

I knew I should have been angry at his tone of voice. I know I should have resented his didactic, almost condescending attitude. But instead, and I may never understand why, I looked at him with my tear-filled eyes, almost grateful for his patience with me, for the way he was excusing someone who had obviously advertised themselves as far more experienced than they really were.

I hung my head to show my shame.

“Your pleasure, Sir.”

His finger again visited my chin and lifted it until our eyes met. He took the finger, brought it to his lips where he kissed it slightly and then brought it to rest against mine. I kissed it appreciatively. It then slowly traced my lips and while I was tempted to begin to suck it as I normally would to preview my anticipation of things to come, I refrained. I knew he would tell me when that would be appropriate.

The cab came to an abrupt stop at a storefront, its mannequins boldly modeling all manner of fetish wear. “$10.25. Sir,” said the driver in a humorous, almost mocking tone of voice, making me wonder just how much of that last interchange he had caught. The old me would have cared. The new me ignored him, ready to proceed with business. 

“Speaking of my pleasure, darling,” said a man who had transformed himself from a playdate to my Dom in the course of a ten-minute cab ride, “Come along. It’s shopping time.”



Communication Skills



This is my second story for Literotica. I would greatly welcome comments, suggestions, or just encouragement from any of you out there. Hope you enjoy this one.

*

I still hate my alarm clock. I still hate being woken up suddenly. I much prefer waking up slowly, enjoying that time between waking and sleeping; where dreams and reality mix.

That morning, as I awoke my hands were rubbing my ample breasts, gently kneading them and causing my erect nipples to rub against my bedsheet. As my arousal increased I allowed one hand to touch and start to squeeze a nipple, while the other moved down to my fleshy mound. A finger rubbed gently up and down the soft velvety skin at the meeting place, until it felt a hint of slippery moisture. It pressed on the moist spot, the lips parted and my finger slid in to the warmth, in towards the source of the moisture. It pressed into the softness of the opening to be rewarded by a small gush of the juice it was seeking. My moist finger now moved up between the lips and onto my little pleasure bud. Had my finger been dry that touch would have been painful, but the lubrication it had sought made the almost-pain into the greatest pleasure. The greatest, that is, until it started a regular slow circle of massage. Each time my finger passed over the most sensitive place I felt my whole body being tensed and pressurised. The pleasure and pressure increased and increased until I exploded in to the final ecstasy.

All of which was very strange. I was a 19 year old male virgin. In those days kids had a lot less sexual experience. There were stories of terrible diseases, the risk of pregnancy and shotgun marriages, and for girls the shame of being thought 'loose'. For many their first sexual contact would be clumsy ignorant fumbling on their wedding night. I had never seen, and certainly never touched a naked female breast. My experience of the more private female parts was zero. So it was very strange that in my dream I had been so accurate as to the anatomy and feelings of the female body. I, at the time, had no way of knowing that my imagination was correct.

I had good reason to know about the shame of unwanted pregnancy and 'loose' women. My mother was just such a loose woman, and I was the result of just such a pregnancy. My father, however, had got away with it. He was just one of my Mum's many encounters. She now ran a small shop selling cigarettes, newspapers, and odds and ends, but there were still evenings or afternoons when she would give me enough money to go to the cinema, and tell me not to come home again before such and such a time, and there were still women in the town who would "Not be seen dead in that shop with that woman." It was perhaps because of her experience that she had always made sure that I should not risk my, or any girl's future for momentary pleasure or excitement. 

The town was small, but as was typical in those days it had all the shops that most people needed for their simple inexpensive lives. There were a couple of other shops like my mother's, several butchers, a drapers, a small furniture shop, and so on. 

There were also a couple of greengrocer's shops, one of which was next door and part of the same building as our own. This was another shop that some people would not be seen dead in, because in those days the prejudice against those with non-white skins was a lot more common, and there were a lot fewer people with black or brown skins in England, especially in small market towns like ours. She was the only person of Indian origin that most people had ever seen, and although she had by far the best quality and value vegetables in the town, many could not bring themselves to buy them from her. She was, and still is, a lovely woman, both physically and in character, and she and my mother were great friends. I can remember the sound of their voices in the evening coming up from the little kitchen behind our shop as I drifted off to sleep. The soft murmur, and the occasional chimes of laughter as they chatted and played cards or dominoes together was my lullaby. We all called her Sunny, although her name was something more complicated that we could never pronounce properly, although our attempts to do so would cause more laughter from her.

Sunny grew many of the vegetables she sold, which accounted for their quality. We were never short of vegetables. There were long gardens behind both our shops and as my mother had no skills or inclination to be a gardener Sunny used both back gardens. I enjoyed helping Sunny there, and on leaving school had started working for the local council, hoping to work in the Parks department, but as my school results were quite good, I had been promoted into a boring clerical job in the offices. While my colleagues would leave work and go to the pub, I would go home, looking forward to some fresh air and working with Sunny in the garden. I must admit that there were other ideas in my shy teenage mind as well. Sunny used to wear western clothes when serving in the shop, but she was uncomfortable in them, and for her gardening she wore indian clothes. These revealed a lot more about the shapes underneath them, and I would often position myself so as to get the best view of her as she worked. Although at the time I thought that I did this secretly, I now know that in fact she really enjoyed being watched and admired, and would even fulfil my fantasies and let the fabric slip a little revealingly from time to time. 

Her religion meant that she was vegetarian. She would cook dishes that were totally strange to our tastes, at least they were strange at first. She often gave us samples of her dishes, and we grew to like and look forward to them. 

Neither of our shops were too busy, and so in time the adjoining wall was removed, and Mum or I would mind both sides, while Sunny would work in the kitchen or garden. She was able to grow more, and even devoted space to growing her own herbs and some spices. I was able to leave my office job to help.

I now realise that it was on the day before my waking dream that I had been into another ladies bedroom for the first time. By another lady, I of course mean one that was not my mother. Sunny had asked me to go upstairs to her room to help her to move furniture around. We had moved a wardrobe to another room, and moved her bed onto a different wall. Her bedroom was the mirror of my own, and I now realise that following the move, her bed and my own were parallel, separated by the thin brick wall.

That evening Sunny had again cooked for us, and among the other dishes there were a few small spicy lentil balls. When you bit into them, inside the crusty exterior was a soft spicy green filling, made from spinach or similar leaves and herbs. Sunny and I ate them between us, Mum did not have any. When I went up to my bedroom I felt that there was something odd in the way that both Sunny and Mum told me to sleep well.

So I had this strange and wonderful dream.

After the dream, when I was fully awake I got dressed and went down to breakfast. Again, there was something odd about the way in which my Mum asked if I had slept well. I ate some toast, then took my tea, and an extra cup through into the shop, where I gave it to Sunny. She tried hard to keep a straight face when she asked me if I had had sweet dreams, but my embarrassed response made her face break into a huge grin as the laughter broke through. Have I mentioned just how incredibly attractive she was, and still is, when she smiled or laughed. 

"Your Mum said that it was time you knew, although I think that I might have gone a bit further than she expected."

I stood there not understanding what she had said.

"So now you know!"

She laughed again.

"Now you know what a ladies body is like. You are lucky, now you know a lot more that many grown men."

I was still dumbfounded and not understanding. The shop door opened, and Sunny sold a newspaper and some cigarettes. When the shop was empty again, she continued.

"That dream. I gave it to you. It was a good one, wasn't it."

An inkling of understanding crept between my ears.

"Uuuur, How?"

You know those lentil balls last night that we enjoyed last night. Well we enjoyed them even more this morning. Now my bed is closer to yours the herbs help us to communicate. 

I stood silent as the inkling took further shape.

"You mean, mind reading?"

"No, more than that, more like mind joining. You know that everyone has an aura?" 

I looked puzzled.

"Its a sort of glow that everybody has around them. Nowadays only a few people can see it. You know the pictures of your Christian saints have a halo, well the aura is a bit like that. I was taught how to make my aura merge with someone else's. When that happens we can share thoughts, feelings and things.

"I think I understand. Ummmm, Thank you." I whispered. This made Sunny give me the most ravishing grin I had ever seen. 

"So it is all right then? Would you like me to teach you some more?"

Her laughter at the sight of my face then was so loud that my mother came through from the back. She was laughing as well, and somehow the two women just started to hug me, and we were all in tears of laughter and joy for ages. We were lucky that no customers came in, or our shop's reputation amongst the prudish rumour-mongers would have fallen even further.

I then started to learn Sunny's story.

She was born in southern India, and had been given, as was not unusual, to the local temple. No stigma was attached to the girls, they were to be married to the gods, and thus to be respected. These girls in the temple were trained in all the female skills, and were usually politely called temple dancers, although their skills were much broader than just dance. There was gardening, cooking, and the preparations of sweetmeats. Many of the Gods are said to have a particularly sweet tooth. These skills were not, however those in the greatest demand. Men would give money or goods to the temple, and could, in return, praise the gods by pleasuring themselves with the temple's dancers. 

For an especially generous gift, a donor could obtain sole access to one of the dancers, or even the privilege of first consummating a girls marriage to the gods. This had happened to Sunny. A young aristocratic British army officer had visited the temple and been entranced by the young girl. Unusually, this officer had learned much of the local language and customs - much to the disgust of more senior staff who accused him of 'going native'. He had given what was a large sum even in British terms, an absolute fortune to an Indian, to the temple, and effectively bought Sunny. He intended the purchase as an adoption, to protect her from what he thought was prostitution, and had no carnal intentions towards her. 

As was the custom she remained at the temple, which was for the best as he could not have her living with him in the army encampment. He managed to keep the transaction secret from other British ears. At the temple she grew, and diligently learned her skills. He would visit her, and teach her English, while she taught more of her language to him. When she was fully grown, and old enough, about my age when I had the dream, she started to practice these skills on her master, and he was very soon being pleasured by her in more ways than just visually. She also educated him as to her religious understanding of sexual matters, and eventually he agreed that he should be loved by her in the best possible way. There was a certain degree of ritual involved in the giving of a temple dancer's virginity. After all, he was to be representing the god in the lovemaking. He was washed, perfumed, dressed in heavy silks given food and drink, and finally led to the inner chamber where the god's wife was waiting. 

In the chamber the wife had been similarly prepared. According to the ritual, she would dance for him, and then they would share sweet cordials and milk, and would eat small lentil balls. They would then sleep chastely together, both still fully dressed. This was to said to let the gods take possession of his body and mind. In the morning they would wake, and once again she would dance, but this time gradually shedding her clothing while also removing his. The dance would became more intimate and closer Then she would guide the naked god to a raised padded platform, and have him lie down again. Then she danced herself into the position for the first full joining of the god with his wife. 

By now the ingredients of the previous evenings lentil balls would have taken effect, and the god would be able to feel all the pleasure of normal sex, but also, somehow, feel the girls sensations at the same time. Thus their movements could be perfectly synchronised. He could not only feel the tightness of her entrance, he could also feel the start of the pain as he pushed against her hymen She felt the pain, but also the pleasure of her passage's friction on his penis' head. He lay on his back while she danced over him. Time and again she had him penetrate up to her barrier, only to release him and to reposition herself so that they both felt the glory of a penis rubbing a clitoris. They each felt the other's excitement, so that when she eventually positioned herself over him one final time, and while they both felt the pain and resistance to ultimate entry, they were both also at the heights of feeling. For the first time she let all her weight fall on their joining place, her hymen tore, they both gasped with the pain, and then they both came in the peak of their utmost shared pleasure. The throb of her bleeding hymen and the pulsing of her vaginal muscles was mixed with the pumping and surging of the semen. 

Sunny describes all this, and how she then fell forward and straightened her legs. How he raised his arms and hugged her. Both felt the sparks of pleasure as his chest hair caressed her engorged nipples. 

They had slept again for a time, to allow the god to return his body, and then awakened each other, to discover more about each other and themselves. Even though the effects of the lentil balls wore off over a few hours, they could still recall just how the other felt things and so the wonderful erotic communication was shared.

The officer and the temple dancer shared many evenings and nights in this way, but they always remembered that first throbbing surging full loving penetration.

Then he was seriously injured. He was unconscious. The army medics could do nothing. Sunny knew nothing of this for several days, and when she did hear of it she rushed to the camp hospital and, using her temple status, persuaded the Indian hospital guards to allow her into his room. An Indian nurse was caring for him. Sunny spoke to her and learned all she could about the injuries. The nurse, having great respect for the traditional skills did not stop Sunny as she withdrew a tiny bottle from her sari, took a sip, and then dripped some into his slightly open lips. Sunny seated herself on the floor beside his low bed, and seemed to go into a trance. She made no sound, but she went pale, and started sweating. She grimaced. She was feeling the terrible pain which his unconsciousness was protecting him from. She searched his mind for awareness, and finally managed to make contact with the person within. When he described it later he spoke in terms of waking to waves of pain, but with a loving hand guiding him upwards. With his consciousness at a higher level she was able to sense his injuries, and realised that there were more than the medics had found and treated. She emerged from her trance, and standing, ran her hands over his skull. She found an area of sensitivity. When she touched it she shared his searing pain and almost fainted. She showed the spot to the nurse, who called one of the medics. They pushed Sunny out of the room, but minutes later he was in the operating theatre having the broken sliver of bone and the blood clot underneath removed. 

Over the next few weeks he made a fair recovery. Sunny managed to be engaged as an unpaid nurse looking after him. It was clear that he would never be fully fit again, and soon Sunny found herself nursing him on a troop ship on the way to England. Then, she was living in an English stately home, speaking only English, nursing an invalid. As long as he lived she was fairly happy, but his health was always poor, and after a couple of years she found herself waiting, with the other women of the house, for the return of the menfolk from his funeral. 

In his will he left her enough money to set herself up in a small business, which is how she came to now be a greengrocer. 

My mum had befriended her while I was still an infant. Slowly, trust had been gained, stories had been told, and my Mum had learned a few of the temple dancers skills, enough for her to be able to have only the most select, high spending nocturnal visitors, and why she could still earn good money despite being rather older than most in her trade. It also explained why, even though the shop was not busy, we were not particularly short of money.

Mum told me that she had encountered so many uncaring, clumsy, or ignorant men in her life that she did not want her son to be like that. In Sunny she had a superb tutor for me. 

My lessons from Sunny over the next few weeks were difficult but enormously pleasurable both for myself and for her. Sometimes we both ate the lentil balls, or sipped the herbal essence, on other occasions, only one of us would do so. With practice I found that, even without the herb, I could feel her feelings and needs while suppressing my own. She had not had a partner since she was effectively widowed. It took her quite a time and much effort to regain her full skills. I started the lessons with hair trigger reactions, but she taught me to control them. We learned to explore ourselves and each other, getting the greatest pleasure from giving it. 

It was only after several evenings and nights together that we actually made love for the first time. As I gently pushed myself into her that first time I saw tears forming in her lovely eyes, and stopped, thinking that I was hurting her. She moved under me, and took me further in. Encouraged, I pressed inwards again, and as her silky warmth surrounded me I saw that beautiful smile glowing in her face. The tear was for the past. Now was the future. I kissed her, and our tongues entwined and delved as enthusiastically as my penis was now doing. We stopped kissing, stopped moving altogether, looked into each other's eyes, and knew that all was right. Then we both started a slow steady rhythm of fucking. I have no idea how long it lasted. It could have been seconds or hours. The world went away, we were nothing but a prick and a cunt pleasuring each other. I could feel her cunt, my cunt tightening round my prick, her prick. The head of our prick rubbed against that wonderful G spot area just inside us that was becoming more and more engorged. As her climax shuddered through us, and my semen gushed between us we were as totally united as it was possible to be. Oh, yes, it was so, so right. 

We exhausted ourselves, and regained strength from each other. She told me of times in the temple when she really felt as if it was truly the god who was pleasuring himself in her, and more and more she saw me as a new god to worship and enjoy. In just the same way, she was my goddess, and my role was to give her everything she could possibly desire. We worshipped together. 

God and Goddess became husband and wife. Our marriage caused such mutterings around the town as :- 

"He must be twenty years younger than she is", 

"I don't like to think of a nice white English lad like him going with a, you know, a darkie like her". 

Mum, Sunny and I decided to sell the shops, and to buy a small market garden with a small comfortable secluded house. 




Communication Skills



So that is how it is now. Mum's customers can visit her in a lot more privacy. We now employ a few folk, so Sunny and I can do as much gardening as we want, and leave as much as we want to them. Our produce is top quality, greatly in demand at the top restaurants. Sunny and I have plenty of time, and and also the desire to spend it together, and now, known to Sunny but unknown to my Mother's clients, I have a little sideline entertaining the ladies, some of them actually the wives of Mum's client's, such as yourself. 

"So Madam, just after our last little exercise, and just before you fell asleep and started snoring, you asked me how I came to be in this line of work. That was my story. Now I think I will wake you up, because my dear wife has shown me a new trick that I am sure that you will enjoy, and that will guarantee your continuing generous patronage of our humble premises."

Let me see. If I kiss you just ... there ...! Yes you like that don't you. You are waking up, Madam, with a smile on your face. 

THE END

Dear Reader,

Have fun.

Let me know what you think of my efforts.

Brainfade