0 comments/ 22657 views/ 2 favorites Orange By: Sady I had always wondered what was in the unused wing of the Auxiliary Gym. The building was mostly in a state of being condemned anyway, so it wasn’t exactly exploratory material. However, when it was just the two of us there was hardly any reason not to explore. The dilapidated building smelled of old sweat, sweetened by the smell of dust, and victories long forgotten. The dark stairs squeaked as though trying to alert all in the building that someone was upon them. In the old locker room, some of the flooring was starting to sink from time, and the lockers were abused with dents from losses vented. The little room off the side of the locker room seemed to step a bit out of time. The bright orange massage table seemed to glow a welcome. It called to me. A ray of light shed down on it from a dusty, cobweb-crossed window. I could hear the dancers laughing and talking as they warmed up, above us. We had finished our use of the gym, you and I. No one had showed up for the lesson so I had received a private one. The lesson time was over now, however. You were no longer my coach; it was past 8. We were equal again, standing there in that sport therapy room, listening to feet pound around aimlessly up stairs. Oh, that table called to me. A fantasy began to spin in my mind, unbidden. The adrenaline already awakening my system from the swordplay, and the smell of you behind me triggered the strangest things. In a flash of a moment, that room ensnared me and I could see a nurse rubbing the tension out of a strong young man’s back, and I knew she was wishing dearly she could fuck him. I knew how she felt; I wanted to fuck him too. Once again the room was empty. I almost told you what I saw, but I didn’t want to spoil the fantasy. I wanted to keep it. I felt you pause too. I felt you see the potential that the ugly orange table had. I wondered what you saw. I wondered for a moment if the table would be at a good height for fellatio. I felt my lips burn at the thought, and licked them to cool the heat. I looked into your eyes. I wasn’t the only one with thoughts of passion roaring in my mind. Things not supposed to be done turned you on. Some how that table was calling to us, and it is always rude to ignore voices. I hooked my arms around your neck and kissed you. I knew where to press my body, so that you would know my thought. I had to stand on my toes for a second before you realized what I was doing and held me hard enough to support my balance. I teased the tongue out of your mouth to suck on it, and breathed in drying sweat, cotton shirts and a bit of shampoo. The breath smelled warm, and friendly like moist sugar cookies, fresh out of the oven. I wasn’t hungry for baked goods though. I let your tongue slip from my lips, and I gave you a longing look, and your fantastic blue eyes accepted my offer. If the rest of you didn’t at that point was insignificant. Your eyes welcomed my invitation. I kissed you again, and I ran my hands up the back of your shirt. You were welcomingly warm, and skin was just damp enough to be soft instead of wet. I could feel every muscle in your back tense up and relax. Some part of you was still struggling to handle the fact that there were people up stairs and that should they come down stairs, things might get really exciting. By the time I was nibbling your ear, I think you had forgotten about them, or perhaps were excited that yes, we may get caught. I slipped my hands just below the rim of your workout pants, along the small of your back. You have a fantastic ass, rounded enough to be there, small enough to compliment your thin frame and soft as two ripe peaches. I ran my figures along the hips of your slacks, over the hard bone of your hips, the soft patch below your belly. I felt you breathe in suddenly, and twitch at the ticklish spot. I paused, to tickle your collar bone with my tongue throughthe stretched neck of your shirt, and run a hand threw your soft head of hair. I knew when I reached to grab your member it would be waiting for me, trying to find it’s own way out of the elastic waist band. I slid my hand done the front ignoring the swollen extension and fondled the flesh pouch below. It was a marvel to me that sometimes men protected these so preciously and others willing gave them away. You rested your hand just below a breast, rubbing the bottom side as if you were sneaking up on my nipples. They knew very well that you were approaching and perked up to greet you. I knew you were trying to distract me, making me whimper and whine. And I felt a first surge of wetness. I encircled the base of your member with my fingers and pulled up, I brushed the tip slightly and with one finger and pushed back down slowly. You responded by reaching up flipping my sports bra up over my breasts, and they jiggled a bit, unbound, and the open air rounded them. You bent down enough to push one of the nipples between your lips, and grasped the other. They tingled with a warm sort of chill. You stopped for a moment, and returned to my lips. As you did so, I backed you into the massage table. I’m not sure you even recognized that we had moved. Your lips gathered my other breast into themselves, and pulled and teased. I could hardly feel the flick of your tongue yet recognized that you were doing something that I wanted more of. I felt a hand slide down my side, over my hip and enter the top of my vaginal lips. I jumped when you applied pressure to my clit. I continued to massage your member, slowly. The skin was incredibly smooth, and the tip leaked a little. I rubbed the moisture into the head and with my hand pulled your running pants down far enough that I could see your swollenness. It was really very nice to look at, and very encouraging. I ran my other hand down one of your loins as far as I could reach, and applied more pressure back up. I massaged your ass for a moment and held on to your balls, to feel them swelling, and the sweat gathering in your pubic hair. You rubbed hard and fast on my clitoris, and then slowed to tickle it lightly. The heat was building up fast. I squeezed my legs together to keep them from shaking, knowing full well that wouldn’t stop you. My body was demanding a man, and I wasn’t ready to reward it yet. I gestured for you to get up on the table. You did so, but before you good lay back, I pulled your member to my lips. I kissed the underside just below the tip, and flicked my tongue just over the top. Then I nuzzled between your legs, running my tongue along highest point of your loins, and below your balls. You smelled a salty sweet and pulled half of your sack in my mouth, and touched you lightly with my tongue. After a minute, I moved to the other half. Then I ran my tongue up your full length. I heard a gasp, and watched your roll eyes back into your head for a moment. I liked that. I sucked on your head, applying pressure with my tongue, running one hand over your sack and the other around the base of your member, moving up and down. When I thought you were distracted enough I pulled in as much as I could take. You groaned a little. I was thoroughly soaked and eager, and I could feel my pulse in my entire body. I slowly moved up and down, you got a look of pure demand on your face. A look that said you were completely and totally vulnerable, and even more distracted. I deep throated you, and tried to lick all I could. You quivered and I felt a sudden pulsing my lip. I drank you in, like rich bittersweet milk. You tried to pull away, but I wanted all of it, and it’s last sweetness. I climbed up behind you on the table and you turned to face me. Up stairs I could hear the dancers going threw their routine for the informal recital. It was a fast past modern piece, with some irish step dancing incorperated into it. The rythum was exciting. My pulse matched the rhythum. You kissed my swollen lips and held a breast again cupping it, and pinching the nipple. My feet dangled off the edge on either side of the table and you eased me back gently with a kiss and a hand. I wanted everything you were right then, but I was teased, and forced to wait longer yet. One of your hands ran down my belly again, and felt for my wetness. I watched your expression carefully, and delighted in the slight surprised glance, that vanished as soon as you see me watching you with a little grin. You pressed your thumb against my clit, and I jerked visibly. The gravity that kept my legs dangling of the sides, forced my legs not to clinch together. It was subtle torture. You pushed two fingers inside of me and rubbed the upper inside. I heard myself moaning, but I barely recognized it as myself. My stomach muscles tried to clinch up. Noting my eagerness, you pushed harder, and moved faster. I knew my noises were arousing you; not being able to reach your member from where I lay was torture. When you finally pushed your member into my pulsing vaginal slit at my climax, I could not hold back any longer. My body shuddered with relief, as I came for the first time. I felt complete again and yet not without a driving desire to force my hips into you harder. I wanted more. You pulled out and thrust in again. Sensitive and wet, every movement was enlarged. I started whimpering, something under my skin sizzled in different locations. You supported your weight on your hands and shifted forward to dig deeper. My eyes teared with excitement. My entire body burned, and the only word I could think of was more. You thrust in many times, but to me each movement was it’s own and separate. I had no conseption of how many there had been or how much there was to come. I began to want to feel your warm liquid inside me. You moved your arms long enough for me to slide my legs up over your shoulders, and thrust my own pelvis into yours. The seal between our two bodies tightened, and I felt you deeper then I had before. I could feel more of your length then I could before. All I could hear was our breathing and the pound of the dancers footsteps up stairs, match our breathes and our strokes. I fingered myself with you deep inside of me in order to increase my own tightness around you. You watched until your eyes closed with pleasure. I was crying out nonsense soon, and your jaw dropped as you panted. Three thrusts later, you burst open and I felt your member twitch and the rest of your body collapsed on me. I relaxed entirely, as I finished with you. I closed my eyes for a moment and just breathed. Time didn’t really matter for a few minutes. Upstairs someone had stopped the music. Somewhere a thought broke threw the surface of my pure contentment. We probably should move. When I opened my eyes, you were still resting on my breasts, with a little grin of contentment on your silent face. I ran a hand through your beautiful hair, and you kissed my hand gently. I could hear the dancers moving down the creeking stairs, and the thought occurred that maybe we should get moving too. Orange Card Dare Game The following is a 100% true story. Only the names have been slightly changed. * "Wow that's quite a dare," said my wife Marie looking at me over the orange dare card she had just picked. "What's it say?" I asked. But the truth was a couple minutes earlier I had shuffled through the deck and put that card on the top of the deck knowing Marie's turn was next. And it was a good one. I'll get back to it in a minute. We were on vacation with our friends Sam and Diane. At the time we were all in our late thirties with seven kids between us. We weren't teenagers anymore but we were all in decent shape, the girls especially had managed to keep their figures and were smoking hot. Diane and Marie had been friends since high-school, and we all got along great. Over the past few years we had vacationed together four or five times and we had begun a slow evolution from just drinking and hanging out, to playing games like strip poker and truth or dare. I give Sam credit for getting the ball rolling on our second vacation when late in the evening, after the drinks had been flowing for hours, he suggested we set up a camera on a timer and take a group photo of all of us mooning. In my experience, mooning is a great early dare, it's the only really equal dare for both girls and guys, its not threatening, everyone has done it, but it also cracks open a door for other nudity if the stars are aligned. We took two great photos of all of us mooning. In one of them, my wife Marie was doing the straight-leg bend at the waist so her ass looks great and as a bonus you can see her pussy. It's from six feet away, so it's not overly graphic, but it's definitely more than a simple moon. We previewed the pictures on the digital camera and nobody commented on the beaver shot. Maybe I was seeing things. After putting our pants back on we started playing a dice game called Mexican where you frequently lie about what dice you have and if you are caught you have to drink. We had been drinking a ton already so we decided to do a dare instead of drinking. We had known each other for years, but up to this point that mooning picture was the first step over the line that you sometimes take with friends. And once that first step is taken you collectively either take another step forward or quickly retreat. One of my favorite things since I was a teenager is getting naked with a group of people either through strip or dare games or just casual hot-tubing or skinny-dipping. I have great memories from high-school and college but lately Marie and I had become more adventuresome too. As we sat around the table passing around the cup of dice it was not clear whether that mooning thing was a one shot deal or if we might go further. We were all playing pretty conservatively for the first few rolls, but a couple minutes later Diane made a ridiculous claim on her dice roll and I called BS. She had been bluffing and she looked up at me and said, "So what's my dare?" I thought for a moment and decided to go for it. "Flash one boob for thirty seconds," I replied hoping I hadn't gone too far. Diane rolled here eyes in a "is that all" manner and casually pulled down one side of her tank top and released her right breast. She made no move to cover her breast, which was a nice pert b-cup, and we just resumed playing the game with one of Diane's tits completely on display. Over the next hour or so we all just kept daring each other, mostly to show body parts or dance in silly ways. My two most vivid memories are of me giving a full-frontal dance to YMCA and my wife Marie sitting topless for ten minutes straight. Later that night we skinny-dipped, initially with the pool lights off but eventually the guys managed to flip them on. There is nothing better than swimming at night with naked women. The flickering lights, the wet bodies, it is intoxicating. And at the end of the night when we got out of the pool to go inside we all just toweled off standing around in a circle, nobody making an effort to cover themselves up. So we had all been naked together for a few hours. But it was surprisingly non-sexual in the sense that nobody was touching themselves or touching anybody else, the guys didn't have hard-ons. It was clearly a turn-on in an exhibitionist/voyeur sense, and we were all definitely headed for some serious fucking with our spouses but that was it. Over the next couple years we had a number of vacations together and a few more overnight dates at one or the other's house. And frequently when we got together there was some kind of flashing game going on but it was still not directly sexual. There was an occasional suck on a boob dare or spanking but not much physical contact. It was also kind of random, the guys rarely knew if the girls really wanted to play that evening. Most of the time we would end up with some kind of flashing, but if we started too late everyone was ready to pass out and it wasn't much fun. If you pushed too early that wasn't good either. Over time, Sam and I realized that our wives, particularly Marie, were extremely competitive and would do things in the spirit of competition that they wouldn't do otherwise. So we started steering towards games with clear outcomes and scoring. We bought stuff online and we made up our own games. The game we were using this particular evening was what we called "the orange card dare game." Sam had written a program to grab all the dares from a big online truth or dare website and then we added some of our own. After printing and cutting we had a stack of a hundred dares of varying levels of difficulty that we labeled 1, 5 and 10 points. Printed on orange paper. We sat on a couch and two chairs around a wood coffee table with three stacks of orange strips of paper on the table. Sam and I were pretty familiar with the dare cards having read through and edited some of them. We hadn't loaded the deck so we didn't know what cards were coming up, but we had a really good sense of the difference between a 1, 5, and 10 point card. True to form, my competitive wife says, "let's start with a 10 point card." It took me a couple minutes to convince her that we didn't want to jump into the 10 point cards so fast. "I have seen some of them," I confessed. "They can be serious." She arched an eyebrow at me and compromised by picking a 5 point card. "Sit topless until your next turn," she read aloud. "Oh sure you just wanted to get my shirt off. You probably stacked the deck," Marie said accusingly as she pulled off her shirt and reached behind to unclasp her bra. As long as we have been together, and it is over 24 years now, I always hold my breath when Marie unclasps her bra and lets it fall away from her breasts. It is a simply breath-taking moment for me every time. And I had recently discovered it was even more of a thrill if there was somebody else present. Despite Marie's accusation we hadn't stacked the deck. At least not yet. We continued to play with the 1 and 5 point cards for an hour or so. There had been flashing, streaking, mooning, lap dancing and we were all pretty drunk and stoned and had been doing some blow too. We were primed. Diane decided to bust the cherry on the 10 point cards. She lifted the top card and read it to herself. She immediately began laughing. "I have to pee in a shot glass and my partner has to drink it," she informed us. It still kind of makes me gag, but I knew that this was a card that Sam had left in the deck so he was ok with this at some level. If nothing else I think he relished the fact that if anyone ever refused a dare after he did this he could always say, "Hey I drank pee tonight, man up and do your dare!" So we found a shot-glass and Diane and Sam headed outside cause we didn't want to get pee on the floor and a shot glass is not a big target. I stayed on the couch as the three of them headed for the door. "I really don't need to see that," I said to Marie as she hung back waiting for me. "That's fine. I'll go be the witness. But they are going to do this. We need to make up some points," Marie informed me. They all went outside. There were a number of screams and laughter. I sat on the couch looking at the table covered with orange slips of paper and suddenly realized that it was Marie's turn next and that I was nearly 100% positive that she was going to pick a 10 point card. It was still a close game and she wouldn't want us to fall behind. I picked up the stack of 10 point cards and started flipping through them rapidly. I was first looking to make sure that she didn't pick something crazy like pee drinking, but then I started also thinking about what would be a great dare. I was looking for something that wouldn't be too extreme and that I thought Marie would be willing to do. And then I saw it. Oh yeah it was on the edge of reasonable, but Marie was looking and feeling good about her body, and we had just fallen behind in points and I knew that was on her mind. I moved the card to the top of the 10 point pile and put the stack back where it was on the table just as the three of them came piling back into the room laughing and recounting the "drink a shot of pee" dare. The deck was now stacked, and it was Marie's turn. The only question now was whether she would take the top card or cut the deck. I was sure she would go for a 10 point card. She reached for the deck. "Wow that's quite a dare," said my wife Marie looking at me over the orange dare card she had just picked from the top of the deck. "What's it say?" I asked trying to keep a straight face. "Stand on the coffee table, blindfolded and let everyone else strip you naked," she read from the card. "Then stay naked and blindfolded for an entire song. Everyone is allowed to fondle your naked body" I was holding my breath. This was the biggest dare we had ever done. Drinking pee is a gimmick, standing on a pedestal naked and being anonymously fondled is a game changer. Marie didn't hesitate. She stood up and asked, "Who has the blindfold?" We tied a bandana around her head as a blindfold and then I helped her step up onto the coffee table. She stood on the table in a shirt, shorts, bra and panties and of course the blindfold. Soon the blindfold would be the only stitch of clothing on her. She stood there for a minute while I selected the right song for our adventure. I chose "Scarlett Begonias" by the Grateful Dead. To this day when I hear the opening notes to that song I am immediately transported back to that cabin in Wisconsin and the vision of my girl standing bravely on the table with her hands at her sides waiting for the fun to begin. As soon as the music started playing I moved in front of Marie and unbuttoned her shirt letting it hang open just a couple inches. Then I stepped back. I could see her cleavage and her white bra. I could also see that she was breathing deeply. Still time to bail, but I didn't think she was going to. Sam was standing off to the side and Diane was standing behind Marie as I started to slowly pull the shirt off one shoulder and then the next. The shirt pulled open completely in front revealing a conservative white bra and then caught on her arms as I pulled it down. She shook her arms slightly and the shirt dropped to the table and sat in a pool at her feet. I silently walked around behind Marie and unhooked the back of her bra. I saw her inhale deeply as the clasp came undone and my heart was pounding in anticipation. I can only imagine what she was feeling, especially since she was blindfolded and couldn't see where any of us were or even who it was that was undressing her. Nothing had been revealed yet, but we were getting close. Instead of appearing nervous, Marie stood strong and even did a little dance along with the music. I motioned to Sam that I wanted his help and we each hooked a finger under a strap and slowly eased them off her shoulders. The bra just kind of hung where it was, half on half off, but not revealing her breasts yet. As I told you before, I really love the act of removing a bra, and this had to be the single most erotic thing I had ever taken part in. Marie stood patiently, clearly going along with the instructions on the dare card that she was to be stripped by others not to undress herself. She was doing nothing to make the bra fall, although it probably would have taken nothing more than a shrug of her shoulders. I decided to leave her bra suspended in its current position, moved around in front of her and unbuttoned and then lowered the zipper on her shorts. I motioned to Sam once again and he pulled lightly on one leg of her shorts while I did the same on the other side. A pair of blue and white striped cotton panties started to come into view. A silent look passed between Sam and I as we slowly dragged Marie's shorts down her legs to her ankles. She lifted each foot and allowed us to remove the shorts entirely. Again we stepped back and admired my brave and beautiful wife. Now clad only in a bra hanging by a thread and a pair of cotton panties, it was time for the unveiling. Coordinating our moves silently so Marie wouldn't know who was touching what, Sam went for her bra while I hooked my thumbs in the sides of her panties. Ready, set, go. We timed it perfectly and in an instant Marie went from wearing relatively modest panties and a bra that was more conservative than a bikini, to standing completely naked, her beautiful breasts on full display as well as her recent Brazilian wax. She was perfectly smooth and because she was elevated standing on the table we were getting a view of her that was much more intimate than if she had been standing on the ground. We both stepped back to admire Marie. This was so much hotter than seeing a stripper naked in a club. This was my wife, the woman I loved more than anyone in the world. I was so turned on I feared losing consciousness since most of my blood supply had raced south. I guessed that Marie was fighting the urge to cover her breasts or her pussy as I saw her wiggle her fingers and clench her fists a few times, but she never did try to cover up. In fact now that she was totally naked she actually shook her hips a couple times. Way to go Marie! We were probably half way through the song as I reached up and made first contact with her naked form. Ever so lightly I traced my fingers from her shoulders down her breasts, around the sides and then back up again grazing across her hard nipples. Sam looked at me with eyebrows raised asking for permission to touch the goddess standing before us. I nodded and he reached out and took her right breast into his big hand and began to squeeze it gently. Marie inhaled sharply as I'm sure she could tell that this was not me alone touching her anymore. At the same time I let my fingers gently glide up her legs from her ankles until I was gently cupping both cheeks of her ass. There could be no mistaking it now. There were definitely three different hands on body at the same time. I hoped that she was enjoying this as much as I was. Actually I hoped that she was enjoying it even more, but I wasn't sure if that was possible. Still cupping her ass in my hands I leaned forward and breathed hot breath on her neck and breasts and then slid down and took her left nipple into my mouth and rolled it around and around with my tongue. Sam continued to work on her right side, alternating between squeezing the breast and rolling her sensitive nipple between his thumb and fingers. I let the nipple I was worshipping pop out of my mouth and set my sights on her smoothly waxed pussy. Reaching out with a single finger extended I slid it between her legs and ever so lightly let it drag over her lips. She responded by moving her feet slightly apart allowing me easier access and also opening her up just a little bit. Now I could feel that she was quite wet and that her outer lips had become puffy. She was definitely enjoying the experience. I suddenly realized that the song was almost over. Oh no, that just wouldn't do. I removed my hand from between her legs and moved quickly to the iPod. This experience was simply too good to let it end now. I wondered if she would object... Well only one way to find out. I reached out and pressed the button to restart the song just as it reached the final notes. I held my breath and waited for her to tear off the bandana and say, "nice try, but the dare was for one song." But she said nothing and as the song started up again I quickly moved back into position this time behind her gently stroking her ass and reaching underneath sneaking a finger and then two inside her. She was so turned on at this point that it took only the slightest amount of pressure for my fingers to slide into her velvety wetness. Sam was now working on both of Marie's breasts at the same time, kneading and sucking on them with abandon. He clearly had different technique than my standard repertoire and I hoped that Marie found the contrast exciting. The warmth and slickness of her pussy certainly suggested that she was having a good time. I looked up and realized that Diane was standing about three feet away looking Marie up and down and probably keeping track of her husband's hands, but she was making no effort to join in the touching. This whole time we had all been completely quiet. The only sound in the room was the Grateful Dead. This was part of my plan so Marie would never know who was where, what they were looking at or who was touching what part of her body. I hoped that combined with the blindfold that would make it super erotic. I silently implored Diane to come over and at least grab Marie's ass. She rolled her eyes but dutifully moved in behind her, reached out and grabbed a cheek in each hand and gave them a good squeeze. She stepped up onto the table probably so Marie's ass wasn't right in her face and continued rubbing her butt. With Diane working on Marie's ass, I moved back around to the front only to discover that Sam had stopped fondling her breasts and now had his hand between her legs. I couldn't tell but it looked like he had at least one finger and maybe two pushing well up inside of her. Marie is a G-spot girl far more than a clit girl, so I knew the deep penetration would be making her weak in the knees. I reached out and lightly stroked her face, which is one of her favorite things and something that only I would know how much she enjoyed. At the same time I reached out with my other hand and gently lifted her breast from underneath, and grazed my fingers lightly along the crease where her breast joins her rib-cage, another signature move of mine that would be well recognized after 24 years of intimacy between us. In my mind I was subtly signaling to her that although she had six different hands on her body, mine were not the ones on her ass, nor were they the ones pressing deeply inside her exploring her womanly secrets. In retrospect the signals were unnecessary, Sam is three inches taller and probably 70 lbs heavier than I am, with much larger hands. She must have known the moment his fingers slipped inside her that it wasn't me. Diane was done grabbing Marie's ass and started to step down from the table but Sam had other plans. He really wanted to see his wife fondle Marie's breasts, and was making that clear to Diane by pointing and silently pleading. Now it must be said that Diane is fully heterosexual, not even a little bi-curious. But she is madly in love with Sam and likes to make him happy so she climbed back up on the table behind Marie, reached around and began squeezing one of her boobs, which made Sam very happy indeed and he nodded his enthusiastic approval. I took the opportunity to get my hands back on Marie's vagina, which was even wetter and softer than it had been before. It felt like it had been doused with baby oil, which is something that Marie and I loved to do on special occasions and always gets us off big-time. Orange Card Dare Game But now the song was coming to an end, again, and I didn't think that I could get away with another re-start, though when I think back I wonder if I could have just set it on infinite repeat and continued the session for a couple hours. When the song ended, Marie removed the blindfold and said, "Ta da. That had to be worth 10 points." We all agreed it was. All told she had been on the table for just over eight minutes, but in that time she created the most memorable erotic experience that I could have ever imagined and one that I think about to this day six years later. We continue to get together with Sam and Diane from time to time, and we still play flashing games sometimes, but not every time. And although we have had some fun evenings, we have never swapped partners and never will. Marie was recently out of town for a five days and when she returned we were having a couple drinks and catching up when she asked me if I had pleasured myself while she was out of town. "Absolutely!" I replied. "What did you think about while you were doing it?" she asked. "I thought about you," I replied. But she didn't believe me. Well Marie, it was true, and after all these years I decided to sit down and document the event that I think about more than any other when I am alone and missing you and feeling a little horny. I hope you like reading it and reliving it as much as I enjoyed writing it and reliving it. I love you. Orange County Personal Trainer Orange County: Personal Trainer * In order to understand the plot, you have to read this as a continuation of Orange County: The Personal Trainer. These are stories in a series set in various locations in Orange County, Southern California, involving professionals like therapists, trainers, real estate agents, doctors and journalists and their sexual encounters, affairs, romances, flings, etc. Jon is an ex- personal fitness trainer and Veronica is a super model who is herself in the business of fitness training. They meet at a gym, one thing leads to another and she consents to a heavy S and M relationship with him. They both have their egos and wills. Who will come out on top? Is it more than just lust? * Newport Beach, California Never in her life would she have believed or imagined that she was becoming addicted to sex with a master/slave theme and to a man like Jon, a man who was self-absorbed, sexist, cocky, arrogant and a bit mean. Veronica was putting away her gym shorts and sports bra top, heading for the showers at the health club where she worked, a very upscale one in Newport Beach. To the outward eye, she was just another aspiring actress in California, a blonde supermodel with brains, a bit pampered but hard-working. She had come from the stages of theaters in Montreal Canada to find work as an actress in where else but Hollywood and Los Angeles. She was living in a small beach home in Newport Beach, overlooking the ocean. Since she met Jon, her life was turned upside down. At the gym where she herself called home, she had already met Hollywood types who assured her they could land her a job on a film or a soap opera. One Mediterranean looking man, possibly Italian, with bronze skin and a bodybuilder, attempted to convince her to get into soft core erotic films. She had refused this offer and others, knowing that these men had a lusty agenda. They wanted her for her body. And now, she had already consented to be Jon's plaything. There was no turning back. Now, any other man who offered her the thrill of being in films and having hot sex was not interesting. She was becoming more and more obsessed with Jon. She walked into the showers, taking off her clothes and grabbing her towel. She made sure no one was around. She walked into the shower room. As she showered and soaped her creamy white flesh, the water spraying over her as she turned sensually, she thought of him and instantly felt aroused. She wanted to touch herself right there and then and finger her pussy. She knew it would be indiscreet to do so because anyone could hear her or another woman might come into the shower rooms and see her. She closed her eyes. She imagined John walking into the shower with her, fully nude, his brown body glistening wet. He came up from behind her, putting his hands over her breasts, playing with her nipples and pinching them while he grinned. She moaned and began to move side to side, as if dancing with him. His cock was becoming hard and rubbed up against her ass and thighs. They were both moving slowly as if in a rhythm. She cupped the side of his face as he leaned down to kiss her. He devoured her with his kisses, using a lascivious tongue, while his hands moved down her sides and took hold of her hips. He turned her around to face him and they shared another very passionate kiss. Time began to move with a slow cadence, and a soft steam began to appear. It made the temperature in the shower hotter and aroused them even more. Face to face, their bodies pressed against each other, they were silent as they breathed hard and heavily, both of them yearning for the feel of their bodies joined as one. She wanted to feel his pelvic thrusts and his cock delving into her pussy again and again, making her orgasm like never before. He grinned and at her and he kissed her again, dipping her, making her arch her back and throw her head back as if in a tango dance. When he pulled her back to him, he slapped her. Veronica did not mind this and was aroused. He walked around her in the shower, surveying her body up and down as if he were inspecting cattle. He had a hard look in his face and a grin that spoke of wicked pleasures to come. Her erotic fantasy had no sound, save for the sound of running water in the shower, but their voices were mute and their movements deliberately slow as if to arouse her further, like watching a soft core erotic film. But there was nothing "soft" about what John did next. One strong hand was on her ass, gripping it and lifting her whole body up. He held her firmly in place and he began to fuck her in a standing position. His brown cock slipped into her pink pussy with ease, and he thrust slowly, trying not to hurt her. His cock was long and big, and he shifted them against the wall so they can have more support. Her back was against the wall and she kept looking over his shoulder as if seeing that someone was staring at them. His cock penetrated her pussy, and they both grinded against each other slowly and in a rhythm that seemed hypnotic and sensuous, as if they had forever to do this. Her hair was in disarray as he began to penetrate more fiercely, their bodies now bumping and grinding, their bodies in heat, their faces contorting with maximum pleasure. In a sudden jolt of pleasure she threw her head back and slammed her hand against the shower walls. He continued to fuck her with greater intensity, unbearable pleasure overwhelming them both. He put her down on the shower floor again and he took her fiercely by the waist, pulling her to him. He was now sliding his cock into her again, and it stayed hard for a long time. He thrust into her pussy from behind and his hips slammed against her, a clapping noise echoing in the shower room. He held her possessively by her breasts and bit her neck and kissed her neck. By now, she was in a wild state of sexual abandon, letting herself go, crying out in her orgasm. From her bag a cell phone rang, and its timbre, loud and echoing in the shower rooms, startled her, like an alarm just went off and her feverish fantasy came to a sudden end. She remembered she had been showering for too long now. Her cell was ringing persistently and she knew that had to be her next client. TWO She hated driving to Anaheim during rush hour but she had no way of getting around it. Her next clients, Marcus and Tia, were a black couple who owned their own ad agency and working from an office and being constantly motionless, they figured they'd hire a private fitness trainer like good old Veronica North to do the job. They had been her clients for only about a month and they were progressing well. Veronica noted how their posture had improved, their spines were straighter and they were now developing a tighter body. But there was still work to be done and they told her they'd keep her as their trainer as long as they thought necessary. The weather was getting warmer and the sun on her skin felt so good. Even little things like this, a natural pleasure derived from the weather, even something like a caressing wind, made her think of Johnny and how good it would feel to be in his apartment in Laguna Beach once again, giving herself to him yet again. Anaheim was nothing like Laguna Beach. The only real attraction to the otherwise dull and uninspired place was the Convention Center where a number of sports games took place, conventions and figure skating and of course there was the eye-popping, child-beloved Disneyland. Marcus and Tia lived not far from Disneyland. Their offices were located downtown. As Veronica found parking, her cell phone rang again. She looked at the caller ID and was surprised it was neither Marcus nor Tia. It was Johnny. Her heart skipped a beat and she licked her lips as she took the phone to her ear. "Yes?" she said. "You are in Anaheim right now, at the home of clients, correct?" John's voice had a strong, somewhat threatening tone to it, but it was still very sexy. "John, how would you know that? Is following me around or stalking me part of your sex game?" "Don't question my authority. I am not following you. I just happen to be in the area on business. I saw your car just now. I'm very close to you and although you can't see me, I can see you quite well." "John, I thought it was agreed last time we saw each other that although I like this a lot, I don't want it to interfere with my work. Fitness training is all I really have. My agent hardly gets me any work and I'm almost done with modeling by the looks of things. Please tell me you're not going to make me do something that will embarrass me in front of my clients." "This is not about your job, and nothing will happen to you. Who's the boss here? Don't start taking that tone with me. Now, if you want to be my girl, and if you want to stay exclusive, you gotta do as I say." "Fine. What do you want me to do?" "First off, don't answer me like that. You say yes, Johnny, yes, what do you want me to do for you?" "Yes, Johnny, yes, what do you want me to do for you?" After she said this she felt like spitting, as if she had just tasted something very disgusting. She did not feel at all comfortable behaving this way in such a public place and while working. Johnny knew that and he wanted to push her buttons deliberately. "Again. Say it again." "O, Johnny, Johnny, what do you want me to do for you?" She said this as if mocking him with her own words. "Stop that, you hear. Don't make fun of this. It's serious. You wanna be my bitch or don't you? If you can't handle this, I can always find another -" "Ok. I'm sorry." "Now then, you are to stay in the car until I see with my binoculars that you have removed your bra and panties. You will then put your workout shorts and top and then proceed to do your thing in there with your clients." "You want me to go in there and give my clients a work out session without wearing any bra or panties? What if they happen to notice?" "How can that be so bad? They will probably like it. Maybe the guy will. If the girl doesn't have any issues herself, she will be ok with it, too." "And you know everyone and everything don't you?" "Shut up. You are really asking for lots of spankings aren't you?" "Well you know how much I like them. They aren't even punishments." "You're an impossible little bitch. You don't know how to be a slave. You will be a challenge to train, but I can work miracles. Shut up now and do as I say. You don't want word getting around that the Orange County fitness trainer and super model that so many have come to know and respect is in actuality having hot and heavy fornication with me right? Do what I say, you're my cunt." As he watched through his binoculars from a distance in his SUV, Veronica undressed, quickly, knowing that her clients were probably already aware that her elegant black Lexus was parked in front of their home. If she did not hurry, they'd be able to see her doing this. She then slid off her panties and unhooked her own bra, leaving them in the car. She dressed herself again and she looked over the far end of the street and finally noticed Jon. He waved at her as if to say he approved. She preened in the mirror. Well, she certainly did look even hotter without the bra and panties. Her perky breasts were a tad visible through the fabric of her sports bra, tight and dark blue in color. Her nipples were certainly visible. And her dark shorts were also tight and showcased her legs. The mound of her pussy jutted a bit through the fabric. She hoped that this would not ruin her relationship with her clients. What a bastard Jon was making her do this. It was so unprofessional! How would he like it if she made him take off his shirt at work and stayed that way behind his desk in front of everyone at his Newport Beach office? What a scumbag. And yet, she thought of his warm hands, his caresses, his kisses, his skilled tongue, his unique way of fucking her. No one made her reach such giddy heights of pleasure. The good girl Veronica left behind in Canada had no way of overwhelming her anymore. The naughty submissive Veronica had taken over since John claimed her body and claimed her as his. It was erotic, it was mind-blowing, it was everything that she had longed for in lusty secrecy. Marcus and Tia greeted her at the door to their home. Marcus was as tall and slender as a Lakers basketball player and Lea was very beautiful and not too dark-skinned, looking somewhat like Halle Barry, short hair and all. They shook her hands and smiled, covering their faces from the sun's glare. From his stance at the end of the street, Johnny's SUV sped away. "Hi. I'm here. Ready for the session, guys?" Veronica said to them. "Of course," Tia said," and may I say you look amazing, girl. I can't wait for my body to start looking like yours. But you seem distracted, everything ok? Is something wrong? "Oh, I'm fine. Maybe a bit exhausted. You're my last clients for today." "We can do it another time if you're too tired," Marcus said. "Oh, no, I'm fine. Really, let's do this." Damn you Johnny, she thought to herself as she walked in and felt Marcus' gaze right on her shorts to the spot where her pussy was outlined. THREE Veronica was in John's apartment in Laguna Beach. It was noon on a Friday and he had called her again, telling her to be in his place for lunch. She knew that it would be more than lunch they'd be having together. He was seated on a throne he had bought from ebay and used as a prop in his power sex game. What a ridiculous looking thing, Veronica thought. He actually spent money on a glistening black onyx throne from the set of some 1950's epic sword and sandal movie. He was wearing leather, black, matching his jet black, Indian like hair which fell to his shoulders. This was not an S and M costume he was wearing. It was his riding outfit for when he would be on his Harley. The pants fit his body tightly, and is belt was dotted with little Rhine stones. Veronica was wearing her sports bra and shorts, this time pink. Her hair was in a single ponytail behind her. She looked alert and very alive, all the cardio and aerobic exercises had boosted not only her energy but her appetite. She crossed her arms and stared at Johnny, wanting to laugh. She suddenly produced a laugh, almost involuntarily. "What is lunch going to entail? Me in the nude, right?" she told him. "That is too easy and predictable an answer. Of course I'd love to see you in your hot nudity, babe, but I have something different in mind," John said. "Like what?" "You need to earn your lunch." "I always earn my lunch. I work real hard damn you. Johnny, don't do this. I always wonder if I'll ever find myself not wanting to do it anymore." "You like this, deep down. You will always want to come to me and do whatever I ask of you. These games are fun for you. Now come on, bitch, admit it." "Well, they are, it's like playing games like children only we're adults but I wonder if you'll go too far one day and I'll be done with you." "Did you think yesterday's little assignment was going too far?" "I instructed a session with my clients without wearing bra and panties and both of them noticed. I don't know what they are thinking of me. I don't expect to hear from them ever again, really. They're thinking of having a kid and if they discover that I am like this, so sexual, they'll stop using my services." "Yeah? Well fuck them. You will do as I say. And you really don't need to worry your pretty little head about them. You have lots of other clients and plus, if you play the way I like, I'll make it so that you won't have to work ever again. I will keep you. You know how well I'm doing. Money is falling on my lap. I can do no wrong. My power is increasing here in Orange County. I can have you living a charmed life of leisure and luxury. All you have to do is be my little slave." "I like my job, I like the fitness thing and making people happy about their bodies. I want to be an actress and keep modeling -" "All that will only cause you false happiness. I can give you the real thing." "Oh, shut up. Listen, I don't want to -" He slapped her. It felt like his hand was a whip and the sting caused her face to become instantly red. She was quiet and she stared at him, her breath becoming a pant, her heart beating wildly. He was not of the city. He was a wild primal man; he knew only to dominate and conquer and to control. And it turned her on immensely. His dark eyes, so startling in their intensity, made her want to succumb to her. He took her by the waist in an aggressive hold. "You will do as I tell you, you hear me? Cause you're mine. Now to earn the lunch I have planned for us at a nice restaurant in town, you have to go into my bedroom, put on the costume I have for you and when you finish dressing get on the bed and wait for me on all fours with your ass presented to me." She was silent and complied, walking to his bedroom. Johnny's bedroom was the largest room in the apartment, looking every bit like a master bedroom in a mansion. The walls were decorated with erotic photography in black and white. Nude women in collars kneeling, nude women chained to a castle wall, and photos of pussies that had the semblance of also looking like O'Keefe flowers. Surprisingly, this was the most feminine room in the place. The rest of the apartment was masculine in theme, with dark woods, ash trays, leather couches, porn films on the shelves, Playboy bunny signs, nudie magazines sprawled on the carpet under the coffee table and his photos of slutty women bending over big "guy" cars or motorcycles. But his room smelled of flowers and spring, and the bed was white and very soft. A large window with a single thin gossamer curtain, waving with the breeze, also had a feminine quality. On his bed he found her outfit. He had bought her a short, skimpy leather dress. It would fit tightly on her body. The top was cut in the front so her boobs could hang out. A collar was on the sheets and she put it on her neck. It was elegant and dotted with fake white diamonds. A whip was on the floor and she knew he'd use it. He always used it. Even when she wasn't being bad. Sometimes she wondered if John even knew how to be a dom in the most traditional S and M sense and she wondered if he was doing it right. He was such a liar and full of himself that she knew he was also very capable of making things up. But she did not care. So far, she was his only sex slave and she felt very secure in this odd exclusive relationship with just the two of them. "I can make him mine," she said, "I can still make him my boyfriend and change him. It won't be about his money. It will be about working together as a team. Orange County will marvel at our accomplishments. He's mine. I can make him think he's in charge, but in reality - " "Are you done yet, bitch? God what are you doing in there? You aren't playing with yourself are you? You know I don't allow that." She got on the bed as he had wanted her to and was on her stomach. She raised her ass a bit and closed her eyes. It felt good to do this. It really did. What would her friends, family and clients think of her in this position she thought. "I'm ready for you, Johnny," she said. He walked into the room, dressed in black from head to toe. His shirt was of a thin, almost see-through material, with short sleeves, his bulging biceps in view. He had on leather pants that made him look like he was a dancer in some provocative music video. His long dark hair had been arranged in a pony tail that clung to the back of his neck. He moved toward her, slowly, in measured steps, his breathing becoming hard. Veronica closed her eyes and did not look back to see him. She had known him for about two months now and she knew that anal sex was his favorite. During the act, he felt empowered and vigorous, and she was certain he had anally fucked a lot of girls over the course of the years. He never told her his age but she figured he was in his early forties. He was an expert at anal, and that first time on the leather couch in his living room had been a pleasure beyond words. She had been an anal virgin until then and now, after two more times with Jon, she had come to love it. She felt comfortable with his cock inside her asshole, and he fit just right. His hard thrusts made her orgasm with even greater force than when he fucked her pussy. Orange County Personal Trainer "Alright, my little slave princess," he said to her, and she was glad he was calling her that and not "bitch", "slut" "whore or "cunt" as he usually did," you're doing swell. Now grab on to the pillows if you need to or the bars on the bed. I have the KY jelly ready for you. Just relax. Like our previous times." She complied, sedated by his words and breathing easily. She held on to the bars by the pillows on his bed. She felt Jon apply the jelly on her bottom and he ensured that she was properly ready. She wondered if she'd ever tire of this. She knew some women who would never even dream of being anally fucked, not even by the celebrities they most lusted after. She had herself been raised to think that any type of sex that was not good old missionary was very sinful and just plain wrong. But she had discovered that other types of sex were incredibly erotic experiences that she'd never forget if she lived to be a hundred and nine. Jon's cock was already quite hard. She could tell by the feel of it as he began to run it against her ass. She felt his balls begin to make contact with her pussy. She took a deep breath and heard John let out a deep, guttural moan, as if he were in pain and he shoved his cock forcibly into her anus. She felt a jolt and her body was instantly on fire, every cell in her body alive with pleasure and anticipation. "Atta girl. Just hold on to the bars and enjoy. Let Johnny do his thing." She was panting now, and sweat began to pour down her flesh. She closed her eyes, winced and moaned as Johnny thrust his cock into her pussy, slowly but strongly, fully. His balls slapped against her wet pussy. She felt her blood rushing through her veins, she felt her heart beat wildly and her primal self took over. This side of her was not the intelligent, willful woman which marked her public persona. As a personal trainer, she oozed confidence, optimism and she often took a more assertive role. But here, in Jon's bed, being anally loved by him, she was a panting, helpless, submissive plaything, and she loved it. It felt like a total balance. If it was not for Johnny and his sexually domineering manners, she'd be incomplete herself. Jon was roaring like a puma and his hair became messy, as if he were riding his Harley. His cock was loaded with semen and he was about to burst but he knew better. He made things interesting and wildly exciting by the addition of the horse whip which he picked up quickly from the floor. He whipped her back, not caring if it really hut her. She writhed and strained against him, but his cock only thrusted harder and deeper into her anus. He then took her by the hair and pulled it with a hard tug of his fist, his face taking on a fierce expression. She was screaming now, owing to the intensity of his whippings and his pulling her hair. It was a wild rhythm that drove her to climax again and again. He was himself cumming until he was drained and spent. As he caressed her afterward and kissed her to make her feel loved, embracing her, he told her:" You were wonderful. You become more and more of a real woman when you get like that, so free, so wild and submissive." "I guess you tapped into a side of me that was asleep for a long time." "But don't you see, Veronica, that all women have this side. Since as long as there have been men and women, there have been power games. But we men have the tools you need to feel complete. And despite all the politically correct and modern feminist BS, women don't feel like real women unless they're being greatly loved by a dominant alpha male. And maybe they are not goin to admit it but they crave to be dominated in the bedroom like I'm doing to you. Men rule. It's supposed to be this way." Not wanting to argue, she was silent. "Now, off to lunch. You deserve it." FOUR Jon was shirtless, wearing his black sweatpants as he lifted weights at the Newport gym he frequented, the very same one where he first met Veronica. It was getting late and closing time was drawing near. He had deliberately lingered at the gym, using the equipment and making idle chat with another gym rat and fellow male friend, all in the hopes that he'd see Veronica who also went to this gym. But he had not seen her for the two hours that had just passed. Then she walked in, but to his surprise, she was not alone. With her was a young guy who looked like a college student. His hair was dark blonde, his eyebrows were bushy and he was slim but sturdy looking. He possessed a look of innocence like a "boy next door" type but also had a maturity about him and from the looks that other women at the gym were giving him, he had plenty of sex appeal. Jon kept his eyes on Veronica. They walked over to one end of the gym, in the back, and against a wall, they began to talk. Veronica appeared to be very focused on him as she seemed to be doing most of the talking and providing him with explanations. She gave him a brief tour of the gym, but even though she noticed John she ignored him and did not smile at him. This made John very angry and he fumed silently as he continued to observe them. The young guy was clearly into Veronica but so far neither of them had openly flirted with the other. Their conversation was inaudible to him though he tried to strain his ears to listen. The music in the gym was too loud. It was 90's techno with a heavy beat. Jon had often believed this type of heavy music, which sounded like musical pumping, was deliberate. It was meant not only for aural stimulation while working in the gym, but to get the people fired up. He had felt it himself, like when he first met Veronica. He had also seen many men and women become lovers after spending time in the gym. Veronica and the blonde guy shook hands and then Jon noticed they left the gym together. Just what was she doing? She could have at least waved at him or smiled at him. More than that, she could have approached him and spoken to him, even introduced him to this guy. He felt irrational jealousy gnawing at his heart. He knew that it was certainly possible that this guy was a potential client and she was telling him about how she worked out at this gym and also at times helped clients handle the equipment. He had seen her do that a few times. He was clearly not related to her because it looked like it was the first time he had seen her and he looked as if he did not even belong in Newport Beach, or anywhere else in Orange County for that matter. But he was a handsome guy and he was looking at her as if she was the girl he had been waiting for all his life. This upset him greatly. Hm, he thought, I'll have to get to the bottom of this. FIVE "Make your self comfortable, Chris," Veronica said to the blonde guy as she offered him a seat in her living room. Chris sat down and crossed one leg over the other in a 4 shape. He was wearing a tight white shirt and blue jeans, looking fatigued. He smiled at her and could not keep his eyes off of her. "So you turned 18 recently?" she asked him, as she put down her shoulder bag and walked over to the kitchen. "Yeah. Just out of high school. I'm going to attend college in the fall. I just moved into Orange County, a big apartment with roommates who are old friends from high school," he said, "it will be quite the experience. I've never lived outside my parent's home." "And you play what kind of music? Guitar? Are you in a rock band?" "Oh no. What gave you that idea?" "It's California. Home of The Beach Boys, garage rock bands, amateur musicians." "No, my roommates and I are all violinists in a small chamber orchestra." "Is that right? Well I think that's interesting. I've never taken a real interest in classical music. Would you like a drink? Some Snapple?" "Sure." She handed him the drink and sat down next to him. "No need to be nervous. I will charge you a reasonable price because I know you're just a student and starting off life on your own. But if you're going to be my client, I expect commitment and discipline. You look good but you could use more tone, more muscle if you really want and I can help you with posture, proper diet and cardio." "Thanks, Veronica. I'm really excited about all this. I've never had a private fitness trainer. I always imagined I'd have to be rich to get one." "No, that's a misconception. You seem like a nice guy and I'd love to help you improve your physique." "You're so beautiful. I'm honored to train with you." "O thanks." "Don't you have a boyfriend or husband?" "Me?" She thought of John. Her facial expression changed somewhat. Chris noticed. "I have someone I'm very much in love with, but I don't know. It's going nowhere. I haven't really expressed my feelings to him and he doesn't appear to feel exactly the same. The truth is we're, well, we're lovers." "Oh," Chris said, his eyebrows rose as if a bit startled, "well, you don't seem to be very happy if you don't mind me saying so. I've seen the look of love on girls and you don't have that glow. You seem as if you're working hard at it and it's not going anywhere. If you want more than just sex, you need to tell him and if he does not provide you with that, you need to leave him and move on. A good-hearted and gorgeous girl like you should have a good man in her life." "I'll be ok.. So, what about you? Don't you have a special someone in your life?" "As a matter of fact, no. You won't believe me when I tell you, but I'm a virgin. We're probably a dying breed in America. I'm just focused on my music and willing to wait until I find the right girl. It will happen someday. I'm in no hurry." "A virgin? Oh, well I think that's also a good thing sometimes. Your focus is on other things that are probably more useful. Well, alright then, we'll start our training next week. Shall we work out at your place or mine? I have a home gym." "Your place. My roomates might be at my place and it would be so problematic."....... SIX Jon was waiting for her to walk through the door. He sat, bored and impatient with his cheek resting against his clenched hand, on the black throne which he had bought on ebay. He called it the Master's Throne and it was part of his elaborate theater of S and M. The other props included his "dom" costume which doubled as his motorcycle wear, the collar he had bought for Veronica and her leather costume, the horse whip, the lasso which he also used to bind her to the bed and nipple clamps. He had a "bag" of surprises, a little black bag of erotic instruments which Veronica loved, especially because she had no idea what new toy he had bought for her. Veronica walked into his place, her hair over her face for a moment before she brushed it aside and then she put her bag on the floor. "You're late," Jon said, with a somewhat angry tone of voice. "Yeah I am," she replied matter-of-factly," so spank me. Look, I had to drive over her through rush hour traffic. My last client, Kate, was also in the mood to talk her head off so it's really no wonder I'm late." "You know better than to be late for your master when he calls you. You could have told Kate to shut the hell up because you had other things to do. As for traffic, well, that's understandable. But since you are late and so defiant today, you are to receive spankings." "I thought as much," she said with a smile, "ok, let's get it over with." She giggled and she undressed quickly, knowing that John love to see her in the nude every time she was in his presence, and loved to see her naked when she had to receive spankings for punishments. Punishments my ass, thought Veronica, it was a joy to be spanked and she often deliberately disobeyed him so that she can be spanked by him. She sprawled herself on his lap on the ridiculous black throne, raising her ass for him. "You're a bitch, you know that? But you're my bitch," Jon said as he caressed her ass and ran his hands over the mounds, " I know you like it when I spank you but I can't find any form of sexual punishment that you don't seem to enjoy. The nipple torture you like, the pussy torture you like, being gagged you like, and need I go on? The only thing that would really affect you is if I find myself a new playmate and or decided never to sexually pleasure you again." "Oh, but you won't do that, right?" "Well, I could if I wanted to. You don't know about the S and M code. I can basically do whatever I want to. Newer versions of S and M have made it so that it looks like romance and it's very one-on-one and monogamous." "So you can't find another girl and you have to be intimate with me." "I suppose. But in the classic sense, I can find myself a new slave girl to pleasure me whenever I so desire. Right now, I don't have the desire because I desire only you. Now shut up and let me spank you like you need to be spanked." He was spanking her instantly, strongly, using his hand like a whip, and Veronica moaned and winced, her ass becoming red and writhing against his lap. She threw her head down over his lap and bounced a bit each time he spanked her. She was wet and feeling giddy with desire and he knew she wanted him to take her again. "I'm spanking you also because the other day, when I was at the gym, I noticed you walked in with a sexy young blonde guy and you paid zero attention to me. What were you thinking? Who was that guy anyways?" "Oh, are you upset because of that? I guess I should have introduced him to you and spoken to you that day. But he was in a hurry. He wanted me to show him around the gym he'll frequent now and he is now a client of mine. We have work out sessions every Wednesday evening." "I should have guessed. But I thought it was rude of you not to even wave at me. You seemed so distracted by him. I really think you were pushing my buttons on purpose." "Johnny, you're crazy. I'm not sleeping with him! I just met him. He's a client. I'm your slave only and I like doing this with you but you gotta understand that at times I will be working with gorgeous men and women. This is not a threat to us. You're jealousy is unfounded." She paused and she gave him a naughty look. "What?" Johnny said, as if he could not understand what she meant by her look. "Well, aren't you going to take me?" "Nah You have not earned the pleasure of my cock. Spankings are enough for today's session. Now go and get out of here." He shoved her off his throne and she landed on the floor at his feet. Damn him, she thought, as she got up and walked over to dress herself and leave. Damn him, damn him. When will he ever show any real softness? How long would she have to wait until she can have him the way she wanted him? "You didn't have to push me, you bastard," she said to him, "I may be a consensual slave of yours but I'm still a woman and you can't do that to me." "I said go. I'm tired and I don't want to hear you talk. I won't fuck you today so don't try to change my mind. If you're very horny use the dildo I bought you that looks like a replica of my cock." "I wish I didn't have to want you so much, Jon. I hate you" "You don't hate me, now go....." SEVEN For several weeks, Veronica North was busy with a modeling job in New York City and she had no contact with Jon. She told him about the job and how much it meant to her to go to New York, so he let her go. She was tired of these little games, and at the same time, she was not. Always, always there was a new surprise with unpredictable Jon. She felt she'd die of the rush she got, the thrill she felt, each time she saw him, knowing he'd make her do something daring and new, pushing her ever forward to exceed her limits. It was an addiction to the dark side, to danger, to adventure. Because she had always been "the good girl" in Canada and lived a very dull, straight life, she was excited to belong to his world of kink and hardcore pleasures. In New York City, she thought of him every time she was alone in a hotel room in the big city, sighing and longing for him, but craving not only his touch and his dominance, but his love. When would he finally admit he loved her? She realized she had not yet told him herself. Pride had stopped her from doing so. She thought also of her client Kris, with his youthful face and blonde hair, and his easy-to-talk to manners. He was figuring in her thoughts and dreams more often but they were never very sexual. She would see his face and hear his voice, so calm and so soothing, making her feel loved and appreciated, which she did not get from Jon. Strolling along the streets in New York City, looking at chic clothes at Saks Fifth Avenue, Christine Dior and looking at glittering jewelry at Tiffany's, she wished with all her heart that Jon was here with her, on bended knee and proposing to her with a ring he had bought. She wanted him to shower her with beautiful things like gowns, rings, pendants and things girls go nuts over. She wanted to feel like a lady, a princess, so loved and cared for, not abused as Jon appeared to be doing. Why, with all his talk of how he knew women by heart, he really knew nothing. How could he not sense her loneliness, her frustration and her desire to be loved the way a woman really wanted to be loved? How could she love him like she wanted to in return if he did not appreciate her? What polar opposites were Jon and Chris. Jon was dark and dangerous, a devil, a bad boy, an alluring, seductive cruel sex fiend who knew how to pleasure her in wicked ways, and Chris, the good boy, the angel, the musician, the friend, who would never harm her or abuse her, who knew that she wanted to be loved without kinks and power games. But she felt no real sexual attraction to Chris no real feeling of romantic interest as she felt with Jon. She wanted to tame Jon, to make him less of a bad boy. Even if she wanted to try her luck with Chris and see if they could be an incredible couple, she was unable to. It was unprofessional and she could not mix business and love. He was a client and that was that. She wouldn't get involved with a client. She never had. Jon once told her that back when he was a private fitness trainer, there were times he did fool around with the female clients, even if they turned out to be married. She knew that she should feel disgusted by Jon's doing this but she wanted him so bad that his past did not matter to her. She thought instead of his future. A future she hoped to share with him. She was staring longingly at jewelry at the windows at Tiffany's when she felt a hand tap her shoulder. She gasped in surprise and turned around. It was Chris. She could not believe it. "Do you have the "mean reds" like Audrey Hepburn "Holly Golightly" had in Breakfast at Tiffany's?" he said with a laugh. "No I don't," Veronica replied, "and what are you doing here in New York? This is quite the surprise." "Well, my buddies and I saved money for the trip and we're getting some culture here. I love the New York Philharmonic. I'm just visiting. And what are you doing here so far from Orange County?" "I'm on a modeling job. I'm doing ads for Victoria's Secrets." "Cool. You alone?" "Yes I am." "We can see the city together. Want to go to a restaurant with me tonight? My treat. Or we can go to a dance club." "No, thank you. That's nice of you to offer, Chris, but I'm too busy with my job and I will be here only for another day. I can't get distracted." "Ok. Well, I'll be back in California by next week. I'll see you again when we work out together. How do you think I'm doing?" "You look great. You have more tone and a tad more muscle but I think that you should watch what you eat." "Well, I did just eat a burger. I guess you're right." "I haven't had a burger in years." "Oh, come on. Have one. It won't kill you." They both laughed and she felt good to laugh. John had never made her laugh. She felt very close to Kris all of a sudden. They had been working out together for a few months now. She smiled faintly and then noticed a black girl, slim and sexy, with a gaunt face, walking toward her. Orange County Personal Trainer "Girl, what do you think you're doing here? The shoot starts in an hour and they are very nasty about being late. You need to get your make up on and the clothes," the black girl said, almost reprimanding her, "Fabian will be so upset. He is such a drama queen when the models don't do what they're supposed to do." "Oh, I'm sorry Eva; I was just taking a walk. I needed fresh air. I hate being indoors in a studio or hotel all the time. Eva, this is Kris. He's a client of mine back in California." They shook hands and smiled. "Listen, Chris, I have to go. I'll see you in California ok? Ciao." He watched as she walked away with the black super model down the crowded street and watched as they got in a yellow taxi cab.... EIGHT After her modeling job in New York, an agent got her an acting job. Nothing big, but an improvement. She was glad it was not a soap opera. Veronica hated soap operas. Women on those didn't do any other kind of acting and the stories were all the same and so boring. What soap did not feature a hospital room or a classy home and sexy bedroom? She felt that soap operas were not for her. It was also very funny that she often felt her life was enough of a soap opera in itself. Everything about Orange County felt like a soap opera, especially when it came to Jon and some of the more dramatic figures in her modeling project. She had landed a role in a Lifetime film. She played a stuck-up girl fresh out of high school who lived a life of upper middle class comfort. Her world gets turned upside down when a seductive lover lures her into the seedy and dangerous world of internet pornography and X rated photography. She thought this role came too close to home. The guy playing the nasty lover was somewhat like Jon. He had also taken erotic photos of her and even videotaped them when he had anally fucked her, tied her up, whipped her and slapped her around. Jon was growing more and more impatient because he didn't see her for the duration of the production of the TV movie. But when he finally saw her and was alone with her......... He let her sit on his throne. It was unbelievable. She had never imagined she'd ever sit on it. She thought at first that it was all part of a devilish game and he'd humiliate her afterward, in his usual style. But to her surprise, he did no such thing. She was nude, as always when she was with him, and her legs were spread as per his command. He was shirtless and wearing his leather pants, his long dark hair falling down his back gracefully looking like a porn star or rock singer. He was on his knees, kneeling at her feet. She was amazed. The image was not at all in accordance to his usual style of S and M. It appeared as if he were serving her and being the submissive one. She knew that if she abused her sudden little gift of power, she'd get him very upset and lose him. "Alright, my pet, you know what's coming," he said to her, with a grin. "No, I don't know what's coming," she replied, "it could be anything, knowing you." "Shut up and let me do this," he said. He parted her legs and kneeling, placed his head between her legs, making her quiver in anticipation. His hands were on her pussy, the palms of his hands caressing and stroking, arousing her, making her feel like jello. She knew what was coming. She had enjoyed this type of sexual pleasure from at least one boyfriend in her past. Many of the more recent boyfriends, Jon included, had for the most part enjoyed receiving oral sex from her. And now the tables were turned. She remembered how often Jon had forced his cock into her mouth and gagged her with it, making her suck it. She had given him blowjobs at his office in Newport Beach, right under his desk with the door closed, she had orally loved him as he leaned against his Harley in the middle of a deserted canyon road in Malibu, Jon's favorite California location and she had also given him plenty of head in the shower. But now, she was on the receiving end. He relished the feel of her pussy on his lips and he kissed her slit like it was her mouth, and when he began to insert his tongue into her vaginal opening, she nearly fainted in pleasure. He was obviously very skilled and had done this to other women. Veronica was suddenly jealous of these unknown women in his past, for they had been lucky to receive this pleasure from him. If only she could truly belong to him, and he to her, and if only this was more than just sex games. Sometimes, like right now, she could almost feel John's love for her. He was being so tender, the feel of his tongue and lips so achingly sweet and loving, making her feel as if he cared for her like she was his most prized possession. His fingers slipped inside her pussy as he laved and licked to his heart's content. Veronica threw her head back on the throne, arching her back, bucking, writhing and moaning. "Owww, Jon, owww, feels so good," she said between high pitched moans. Jon continued to orally pleasure her for what appeared to be a long time. His tongue was strong and it felt so good moving inside her as he flicked it snake-like and as he continued to finger fuck her a the same time. She had to grab on to the arm rests of the throne to support herself as she nearly fell from the pleasure. She was in a state of wild sexual frenzy, her pupils dilating, her entire flesh on fire. One orgasm after another followed until she was spent and begged him to stop. "But I'm not done with you yet," he told her. God was he insatiable. She looked at him silently, her breathing ragged as if she had been running a marathon, her hair in disarray. He got up and she noted how erect his cock was. The sight of his enlarged penis always excited her. She had only been with white men before, and their penis, although a perfect fit and size, did not compare to the exotic magnificence of Jon's brown penis. It was almost eight inches. His balls were full of dark hair. As she looked at his hard-on, she was on her knees, thinking John wanted her to give him a blow job. He pulled her back up by her hair with his fist. Without saying a word, he walked around her and sat down on the throne. Quickly, he turned her around so that her back was against him and he seized her by the hips, lifting her up and putting her on his lap. She got the idea then. He wanted her on top of him, riding him in that manner, with her back to him. She complied and she sat on him. His hands held on to her hips as he began to lift her up and down over him. It was all done very quickly and the intensity of it made Veronica squeal and scream in pleasure. She threw her head back and she felt his cock inside her. It was like steel. In and out, in and out, as she bounced over him. Jon had been quiet and closing his eyes, hearing her moan and cry out but now he could not control himself and roared and grunted like a beast in heat. They both reached their climax at the same time, and this added sweetness to their lovemaking. Veronica embraced him as he kept her on his lap. They now steadied their breathing and enjoyed the intimate silence that followed. After a while, they began to talk. "I missed you," Johnny said. Veronica met his gaze. He had been sincere! And there was a very gentle look in his eyes, a passive expression. She felt overwhelmed by it. She smiled. "I missed you too," she said, in a slow and calculated way. The sun glistened on their bodies, still glowing after sex, and the only sounds were passing cars and the sound of a nearby freeway. Veronica smiled again, feeling like she had just won a contest. And in a sense, she had. He had actually missed her while she was away in New York, and had thought of her as she had thought of him. They had both been in need of each other. In that need, she felt secure and she knew she had him at last. "I love you," she said, and did not keep her eyes away from him to see how he would react. He was not surprised. His eyes searched her face, as if to see that she had meant it. He was quiet and calm, as she was, still basking in the peace after the sexual storm. "And I love you," he replied. If it was possible to orgasm through the heart, Veronica could have done so at that very moment......... NINE Veronica found it hard to believe that a year had gone by. Within that year, she had done another film which followed her Lifetime channel TV movie, Trapped And Seduced: The Story Of Amanda Byrne. Because she looked young and could "act" the part of a college-age girl, she landed another role as a young co-ed in a teen comedy which had starred Ashton Kutcher, a raunchy, silly film called Girl Trouble. She had even had a sex scene with Ashton. But it was done in a soft-core manner and moreover, it was also a funny scene. The film did not do well and she was, of course, a lesser light next to Ashton's Hollywood "light", and off-camera, they did not say a word to each other. Jon was allowed to visit Veronica on the set and although he did not want her doing anything the least bit sexual on a film, he felt powerless to stop it and because it was written in the script, he could not do anything. He watched as the character Ashton played romanced, lost and won back the character Veronica played. After film production wrapped up, John forbade her to party with the cast. Jon made it clear to her that he did not really like celebrities, and did not wish for her to be seen with these Hollywood types who would lust after her and flirt with her and or would lead her down a path he didn't want for her. Deep down, he was afraid she'd find some actor who would sweep her off her feet and also make her a star and he'd be nothing to her but a sexy memory. "You don't like celebrities yet you were once a trainer for Demi Moore," she said to him. "That was years ago, and that was work and business. I don't like actors. They are full of themselves, motivated by money and stuck up, attention whores." "Gee, sounds like you," she said. "You are aching for a spanking or worse, aren't you?" Veronica had learned that "worse than spanking" meant he would actually abstain from having sex with her. She was still unsure whether he had sex with another girl and had only quit having sex with her as punishment to her. But as far as she knew, she was his only slave. They were in his Laguna Beach residence and were basking in the lounge chairs on the deck which was situated just outside one of his rooms. The ocean was in view and sea gulls flying under blue skies and over sail boats. "Did you like the film?" she said, "did you laugh a little at times?" "I didn't like it and we won't talk about it." "Is there something you're not telling me? Did an actor actually do something to you?" "I suppose sooner or later I'll have to tell you," he said. "Tell me what, Jon?" "Follow me back into the house." She was used to Jon's surprises. She wondered what this was all about. He guided her out of the room and down a flight of stairs to the basement. She had only been down here in the dark, at midnight, where he had constructed a fake dungeon and had chains and whips and a doggy bowl. The doggy bowl had been for her to drink as punishment, but it also actually belonged to a dog he had recently bought, Sonny, a cute, white dainty Pomeranian. Veronica had picked the puppy from a pet store window. She wondered what he was up to. He pushed his hand against a wall and it opened up suddenly. Behind the wall was a walk-in closet like room. Veronica gasped in surprise. Sprawled all over the space of the room were adult videos and magazines. Having been in magazines herself, she quickly noted that some of them had his face and his body on the cover. One was for Men's Health magazine, others were similar types of magazines that dealt with fitness and bodybuilding but many were also of an erotic nature. He had appeared in Playgirl, Hustler and Screw. "When I started off as a personal trainer here in Orange County, I was also doing this," he said to her, without emotion. "Pornography? You were in adult films and nude magazines?" "Well it isn't Vanity Fair, my dear," he said, "though I could have done that too." He was silent and watched as Veronica looked over the video tapes and flipped through the magazines. Her eyes widened as she saw photos of Jon in erotic positions with other women. Some were hardcore in style and absolutely filthy, others less dirty. She noticed that the videos were also mixed soft-core and hardcore, and he was never the star in the videos. It also appeared he was doing mostly anal scene and lots of the pictures of the more hardcore magazines were shots of him anally fucking various girls, some white, some ethnic. No wonder he liked anal so much, she thought. "Well, I would not have believed it if I hadn't seen it," Veronica said, "even I haven't done anything remotely like this. "Yeah you did. You had that sex scene with Ashton Butcher." "It's Kutcher and well, that was part of the script. I had to do it or they'd find some other girl that would." "You want to be an actress so bad, that's your choice. I suppose I can't stop you, try as I might. The point I'm making is, I've had my fifteen minutes of fame, and I've been in film and I've worked with a few celebrities but even when it's not porn like this, it's still about selling yourself and selling out. It's all about looks, too. You won't get any good parts or the ones you want after 50 or 60." "Jon, porn and drama are not the same thing. I didn't want to do a sex comedy but I need some credits and need to get my face out there." "What if someone wants your face in porno? Even if you say no, you'll be tempted like I was. The money's good. Movie making types love a girl who can go far to get what she wants. It's a corrupt world. Don't do it." "I won't let myself be corrupted." Veronica felt like biting her tongue. She had already become corrupted, sexually, by this wicked bad boy with a public professional persona on the outside. "I have corrupted you," he said, "too late for that. But you're my private slut and I'd hate for you to become a big slut for all to see. Besides, in today's adult film biz, there's more risk." "How do you mean?" "There are two camps of porn. Hardcore which does not feature protection with condoms and soft core which allows the participants to use condoms and the sex depicted is often simulated and not real. It's such a weird world that you probably would make more money if you decided not to require the protection. But you know, worrying constantly about AIDS is not really worth it. But I do know theexcitement one can get from getting involved with allof this." "But you did hardcore porn! You could have contracted an STD. Which could mean I -" "You are lucky. I'm tested and I have no STD at all. But you might not be so lucky if you get into porn. Not everyone is lucky. It's a very small world, if you think no one will ever see you and that your straight clients aren't the type to every see your work, think again. They might turn on late night cable TV that features adult films and see you and recognize you. They might be watching a hotel pay-per-view porno film and recognize you. Including parents! They distribute these films outside the US too." "Well, I'll be fine. I have been asked to do porn and soft-core erotica but I've never accepted the offers." "Good. What for? We can do our own home-made porn." They were quiet for a brief moment. "Jon, I feel like having a picnic. I'm hungry and it's such a nice day. Could we go to Malibu on your Harley? A friend of mine knows a great spot that overlooks the ocean high on a cliff. It's part of her property and she would let us eat there. I'll call her now on my cell and see if she'd be ok with it." "Sounds like a swell idea. Let me get myself ready, you get ready and I'll ready Harley.".... * * * * * Riding with Jon had always been a pleasure for her. Jon had long owned the Harley and had escorted girls countless times, even if it was just for a ride. He did not like to join a motorcycle group, even if it wasn't a Hell's Angel like thing, even when it was just guys who were clean-cut and professional and just loved their motorcycles. He loved to ride alone on the highway, on the interstate, and by the streets near the beaches of California, from Newport Beach, crossing Long Beach, Manhattan Beach, Venice Beach, Santa Monica and all the way to Malibu. The long ride on the Pacific Coast Highway was beautiful. Veronica held on to Jon's waist and looked out, watching the panoramic view of the dark blue ocean and the sun sinking into the horizon, casting an array of pink, orange, red and gold into the sky. She felt as if she could paint it on canvas. They took a while to get to Malibu but it was not long before they began to ascend the road that swirled upward into the canyon and cliffs where many fine homes were situated. Jon loved Malibu. He told Veronica he was going to move out here one day. He wanted to own a fine home here, especially because this location was now the most envied property in all of California. Veronica did not want to argue with him about the fact movie stars like Mel Gibson, Brad Pitt, Jennifer Aniston, Susan Summers and others lived in Malibu. How could he want to live in the same zip code as celebrities he claimed to dislike so much? He only told her he wanted to live there because it was beautiful and it would mean he had become super rich. And Veronica also liked the idea of living there, with him, but she wondered how hard it would really be for them if she continued to pursue acting, knowing how he did not want her doing that. Veronica's friend, Nina Armand lived in a charming home by a high slope that overlooked the ocean. The estate was vast and she held summer parties in the big piece of land dotted with a few trees and covered in mountain-like terrain. Nina had been a client of Veronica's but she had another home in Boca Raton, Florida, and she did not spend much time in California, except when she had work to do. She was a production designer for television and worked from various studios within California. Nina was a busty red head, had grown up in the San Fernando Valley and at one time had been a stereotype of a Valley girl. But she grew up, married, had a child, and then divorced. The child, a daughter, was now away in college in New York and visited her mother now and then. Nina had not remarried nor had she gotten involved with anyone, as far as Veronica knew. But Veronica also discoverd that despite motherhood and despite having more experience, she could still act like a misbehaving teen. Nina greeted them at the door and let them into the living room. "Good to see you again, Veronica," she said to her, "I really ought to take up being a client of yours again. I am afraid I'm letting myself go a bit." "Nonsense, you look great." "Really think so? It's only because I had a tummy tuck. If you noticed, I've also had my lips done and I've had some plastic surgery on my face." "Oh, I hadn't noticed. You look terrific." "At least my breasts never needed any work." They shared a quick laugh. "And who is this hunk?" she said looking at John. "This is Jon. He's my boyfriend. He was a fitness trainer too, at one time." "And now what do you do, Jon?" "Finance. I'm a commodities trader for precious metals, oil, and I'm a Hedge Fund Manager in Orange County." "You sure know how to pick them, Veronica. Sit down on the couch and I'll get us something to drink I'm going to leave soon though. My daughter just arrived from New York and she wants to spend time with me in Beverly Hills where she is going to do a benefit concert. My daughter will sing opera she's been studying at Juilliard." After having some wine, Nina grabbed her purse and bid them adieu. As she approached the doorway, she looked back at them on the couch. Orange County Personal Trainer "I won't be back till late tonight, so it's up to you to stay here until I get back with my daughter or if you wish you can leave before. You remember my security system code, Veronica?" "Yeah. Thanks for letting us use your home." "No problem. Well I'm off, you two. Ciao." As soon as she was gone, Jon and Veronica, smiling from ear to ear in a naughty excitement, readied themselves for their tryst. They had packed a basket of goodies, which did not only include food. In addition to the grapes, cherries and sandwiches, they had equipped themselves with a small portable video camera. After learning that Jon had appeared in adult films, Veronica entertained the notion of filming their own adult film, amateur as it would be. Today was the perfect opportunity for it. The day was clear and the weather was favorable, and they were in a beautiful estate in Malibu. When they made sure that she had driven down the road and was gone for good, Jon took her by the hand and they went outdoors for their "sex picnic." A pair of cherubs, like from old Renaissance gardens, stood at the rear of the home, where stone steps lead to the huge yard, which was nothing more than a piece of land over a high hill and cliff. In view from this high spot was the Pacific Ocean. Jon and Veronica took it all in, their nostrils filled with the scent of the sea breeze and the sun on their skin like a gentle caress. Although Jon was wearing his usual Harley riding leather clothes, Veronica had on a beige colored sun dress and sandals. They found a spot by a far end of the yard where a few short trees ad bushes grew, near the cliff and they sat down to enjoy their picnic. Jon opened the basket and laid out the blanket. They began to nibble on their cherries and grapes, laughing at the cuteness of it all and talking. Veronica loved to hear him talk, though she often felt his ideas and philosophies were too conservative and of course, sexist, for her. Jon had been a Catholic and though he was lapsed, his personality still contained many old- fashioned, men-in-charge-of-everything sort of attitudes. "You look beautiful," he said to her, as he finished his sandwich. "Thanks," Veronica replied, "this is something I kept from a modeling shoot. So let me finish my food and we'll get right to it." "Are you sure you want to do this?" "Positive." After she finished eating, she looked at Jon, her submissive side taking over. This meant she remained perfectly still and relaxed, awaiting whatever Jon's orders were and keeping in a sort of hypnotized state, completely vulnerable to Jon. He told her to close her eyes and to remain seated. She complied. Before long she felt Jon's hands sliding her sundress off by the spaghetti shoulder straps. His warm fingers felt so good as he skillfully slide off her sundress, this very act of undressing her enough stimulation for her. She was not wearing a bra or panties, and this made Jon produce a sudden moan of excitement. She had deliberately done this for him. Pleased, he leaned against her neck and kissed it, slowly and then took her face in his hands and kissed her lips. She opened her eyes when he told her to do so and they continued to kiss with growing passion. Jon retrieved a black blindfold from the basket and he gently put it on her. In the distance, behind them, the sea was restless, as white waves crashed against rocks and cliffs of Malibu canyon, the ocean roaring as if it had a pair of human eyes and was watching them and quite turned on. Jon was now behind her, seated, and his legs hugged her intimately. She could feel his cock becoming hard and it rubbed against her butt, making her moan softly and become wet. He immediately turned on the video camera and now their film had begun. His hands were over her breasts and rubbed them in a circular motion, making her pink nipples pebble-hard, making her writhe a bit and utter wordlessly, breathily. He pinched her nipples and played with them, his thumb pressing against them. He kissed her with feverish passion and she was quite turned on, but tried hard to remain in a less frenzied state. Jon began to slide his brown hands on her white body, slowly, sensuously, caressing her stomach and taking a hold of her by the waist. She moaned and slowly moved against him. She could feel Jon's cock getting bigger. His hand was now over her pussy and his fingers slipped into her pussy. She bucked a bit as he assaulted her with his fingers, not too forcefully but enough to make her tremble and shudder with pleasure. His magic fingers fucked her pussy and she threw her head back as she felt a wave of erotic ecstasy overcome her. She was even more turned on by the fact that all this was being caught on tape, and it did not look amateurish in the least. They had picked such a terrific location. But beyond their eyes, back in the house, Nina Armand returned suddenly. She had forgotten her wallet, thinking it had been in her purse when it was in another bag and she had also forgotten a few papers she was to use to verify she was a guest at the Beverly Hills mansion where she was going to see her daughter sing. She brushed aside a strand of red hair over her face and walked into the living room, thinking that Jon and Veronica were still in there. When she saw that they were not there, she stopped cold. Nina had quite an imagination, something which came with being a designer for film productions, and she sensed that Jon and Veronica were somewhere in the house having sex She went upstairs to the bedroom, thinking they were in there on her bed. She did not want to surprise them or make them feel guilty but she wanted to see for herself if they were actually doing what she thought they were doing. She slowly opened the door and peeked in. No one was in there. She then heard Veronica cry out in a primal, sexual scream, and she knew the sound was coming from her yard outside. She had a big balcony by her bedroom and from this stance, she could see the entire yard below, and the ocean beyond the cliff. Nina braced herself and went to the balcony, looking out to the yard. There they were. They were on a blanket, their clothes on a pile by a picnic basket, which was near a video camera. They were passionately engaged in missionary position sex. Jon threw his head back and groaned loudly as he thrust his cock into Veronica's wet pussy. They were locked in a tight embrace and she had her legs wrapped around him, her hands squeezing his brown ass. He thrust into her quickly and their breathing was ragged. Nina's eyes widened and she felt surprised and at the same time aroused. She could not believe that they were so bold. She had never imagined that goody two shoes Veronica, who had once told her that she had never done drugs, smoked or really ever gotten drunk, or had a one-night stand, was now doing something so wickedly erotic in her yard. She felt the sudden urge to touch herself and finger her pussy and enjoy watching these two filming themselves having sex. But she knew that it would not be a wise thing to do. They could look up and see her. She had to get to her daughter soon at any rate. She sighed and walked away. Boy, would she enjoy Jon fucking her like that. She briefly imagined him on top of her and doing what he was doing to Veronica. She wanted Jon right there and then, wanted him like she wanted a piece of jewelry or a new article of clothing. And she always got what she wanted..... TEN Veronica was in Chris' home, alone with him and instructing him on a work out. She was in a tight black sports bra and shorts, not sweating like he was. Chris was shirtless and wearing sweatpants. She made him do push-ups and sit-ups for a while and then she told him to stand still. She kneeled quickly and felt his calves and legs. This made Chris a bit aroused but he tried to hide it. God, he thought, this woman is amazing. How on earth can she be with a man she often complained about? What could this Jon have that he did not have? He realized that, as much as he wanted her, as much as he believed he was right for her, and certainly better for her than this prick Jon, he could do nothing about it. He was her client and she was his personal trainer and that was that. It would be too unprofessional if they became lovers and she would not like it one bit. "Well, looks like you've improved this month," Veronica said, "you have sturdier legs and more tone and muscle. Have you been going to the gym even during the week after your classes?" "Oh, yeah, I love that gym," Chris replied, "it's like a second home now. Is that a good thing?" "I think so. But you may not believe me telling you this, but too much gym and an obsession with being fit can be a bad thing. Too much of anything is bad." "Yeah, except too muc lovin' "he joked. After a pause and silence in which they looked at each other, Chris took her hand softly, kissing it tenderly and then caressing it. Veronica's eyes glistened. "You've done so much for me, Ver," he said, "and I can't thank you enough. I feel so much better, stronger. I feel confident and happy." "Your health has improved quite a lot...and you're welcome." "Ver, I know this is going to sound bold and stupid or something. You'll think I'm just a virgin with hormones. I think you're the most beautiful girl I've ever layed eyes on and might ever lay eyes on. In a gentle but bold gesture he took her face gently in his hands and kissed her. Veronica was speechless. "You're a flirt, Chris." "I mean it. You're gorgeous. And more than that, you're good. I want to go out with you. Can I take you some place? Big Bear to ski? Lave Havasu?" "I don't think so, Chris." He looked a bit frustrated and sad and he let go of her hand. "That Jon doesn't know how to appreciate you, Veronica. Don't you want more than just sex? Don't you want to love someone and be loved in return?" "You have no idea how much I want that. But right now, I don't think it's possible with you." "Oh? But it's not possible with Jon based on what you tell me." "He surprises me sometimes. He's told me he loves me. He has been so tender with me and he has been very attentive to my needs lately -" "Lately. But he has been a dick to you. And men can say "I love you" to a woman and not mean it. They want to keep them around for sex is all. You ought to know that. You're even older than me." "Look, Chris. I don't think it's any of your business. My personal life is not something I even ought to be sharing with you. I'm only your personal trainer." "I thought you were my friend, too." "I am. But we cannot cross the lines of friendship." He sighed heavily and sat down on the couch. He looked up at her as if to discern what she was thinking. "I must go. I'll see you next week," Veronica said as she prepared to leave, strapping her bag to her shoulder. ELEVEN Jon turned on his cell phone. He was driving his SUV to Veronica's home, where she would arrive at 6pm after work. He intended to surprise her. She knew it was his birthday and that meant he would have fun with her. As he prepared to call her, another call came in. "Hello?" he said. "Jon, it's me, Nina," said Nina Armand's voice. "Damn it, Nina, I told you not to call me today." "But I wanted to wish you a happy birthday. Are you going to see her? I thought that you and I were going to have some fun of our own today." "Yes, I'm on my way to her apartment. So what? You know I'm with Veronica. Look, baby, I don't want you making it obvious that you and I are also an item. It's going to make me look bad." "What do you see in her? She was my trainer for a while, as you may already know, but I always thought she was so lame. She's too weak to make it in a business where it's dog-eat-dog. She's a Canook and a prissy little super model who fancies herself an actress." "I don't want you talking about her. Look, if you wanna be my lover, shut up. I call the shots. You obey my rules. Don't ever mess up. Veronica is mine. You're mine. Now, look, honey, I'm going to see you tomorrow night so don't worry about it." "Fine." She hung up. Jon parked the car and waited for Veronica to show up. She got out of her car which she had parked elsewhere in the street and was walking to her place when Jon suddenly opened the door to his SUV. "In the car, NOW," he commanded. Veronica was taken by surprise. She looked at Jon and saw the fierce glow in his eyes. She complied instinctively and put down her shoulder bag in the foot of the passenger seat. "Are we going somewhere?" she asked him. "No. I want you, right here, and now. Get on the back of the car and loose the clothes." The back space of the SUV was mostly for loading items. She had been fucked by Jon in this spot before, blindfolded, and because the windows were tainted, no one could see anything, except perhaps in a blur. She went to the back and began to undress herself slowly. She was tired. How could he do this to her, right after a long day of being on her feet all day. She did not want sex at the moment. She wanted to relax and just talk to him instead. When would Jon change? She had tried to change him and failed. He had not said "I love you" a second time, even when she had said it after they had made love and taped themselves at Nina's home. She lethargically removed her shorts and top. She had on bra and panties and she began to slowly remove them as well. "What's taking you so damn long? Loose the clothes now, bitch" Jon yelled. "Alright, don't yell at me, you bastard," she said, "Jon, look, I'm tired. Could we not do this?" He slapped her with a mighty whack. She fell on her stomach. It was just what Jon wanted. Whimpering, she felt him undress hastily and when she tried to move, he seized her by the waist, not letting her go. His cock was hard and it rubbed against her ass. She knew he was going to fuck her in the ass. It was his birthday, and he wanted that. She sighed and closed her eyes as he began to slide his cock into her anus............. TWELVE Veronica's agent, a Jewish man from Los Angeles, had gotten her another role in a film. She was pleased it was not another teen comedy. She was also pleased it was not another TV movie for Lifetime. It was a costume drama, a historical film, a new adaptation of Flaubert's classic novel Madame Bovary. They were going to film in France and she was going to stay there for quite some time. Her heart could have jumped with joy. Here was her chance. Her agent told her her co-stars would be Colin Farrell and William Hurt. Finally! Two actors that were far better than Ashton Kutcher an a movie that would be better than her last, a serious drama. When she told Jon all about this, he was not pleased. He tried to talk her out of it. "Call that Jew boss of yours and tell him you can't do the movie. You've got a more important matter to take care of. Lie to him. Tell him you're mother is ill and you have to fly to Canada to see her." "Jon, why does everything have to be about you? You don't want me to go because of your damn hatred of actors and Hollywood. You don't think about me and my side of things. This is something I've always wanted to do. How can you stand in the way of my dreams?" "Because I can. I own you. Now you will call him in front of me and tell him what I told you. After that, meet me in my home in Laguna Beach promptly at seven." As Jon watched, Veronica called her agent and lied to him about her "sick mother in Montreal". As she said this, she had a tear in her eye..... She arrived at Jon's home on time, knowing that he'd be upset if she came too late. Her heart was broken. How could he do this to her? Make her miss out on a chance of a lifetime? Even if she never made another movie, she would regret not having done this one. She wanted to go to France with all her heart, having never been there and having fallen in love with it through countless films and books. Shame on me, she thought. I don't even recognize myself anymore. I'm a sex object, Jon's toy. I'm so wrapped up in this sordid sexual game, so addicted to the darkness, that she had almost lost her mind and sacrificed her real self. Sighing, she rang the bell to his home. No one answered. She thought that was odd. She was on time and Jon was not? That was beyond fishy. She rang the door bell again and waited. But when no one answered the door, she decided she'd open it with the key Jon gave her to his place. She opened the door and called out to him. There was no response. The lights were off and she turned them on, her eyes searching everywhere. He was not in the living room or kitchen. She walked over to his bedroom. He was not in there. It was then when she heard music, something which sounded like faint rock music, coming from the basement. Ah, so that's where he was. Maybe it was part of his little game tonight. She opened the door to the basement and found that it was in semi-darkness, and she saw the glow of candles. The rock music was very loud now and she could not see very distinctly. When she descended the stairs, she looked into the direction of the vast floor at the foot of the stairs. There, in the middle of the room, was Jon, nude and fucking a red haired girl. She opened her eyes in shock. She strained them to see well. It was, it was Nina Armand! Her mind was in a state of confusion. She felt as if she was having a nightmare. But she knew it was real. When it was like this, it was always real. She fixed her eyes on them and watched as Jon thrust his cock into her from on top of her. They were both groaning and moaning, closing their eyes, lost in passion. They didn't even notice she had walked in on them. Veronica watched the whole thing but during her first voyeuristic experience, she made up her mind that she would never come to Jon again. She bid him farewell right there and then. She hated him and hated herself for having loved him, for having believed that he loved her. It had not been love. It had never been that. She knew it was just sex and just a game but she had tried to make it into a deeper relationship. She had been so stupid trying to mold love out of lust. The part of her that loved him died as she watched them en flagrance. Now, her heart was filled with rage, frustration and bitterness. She had a new lust. It was a lust for revenge. Well, thought Veronica, filled with rage, two can play at this cheating game.......... THIRTEEN She went straight to Chris. He was surprised when she showed up to his place in the middle of the night, obviously not herself. She had been crying and she looked lost. He held her and she cried on his shoulder after she told him everything. Chris did not want to do the whole "I told you so" bit. He wanted to soothe her and to make her forget the pain she was in. He knew it would be wrong and too forward to make a move right there and then. Other than embracing her, he did nothing else to suggest he would have liked more. "Chris, it's really more my fault," she said, "you were right about him. But it was my mistake. I should have known better than to think I could have a solid relationship with him. The thing is I really loved him and felt that it could work out between us." "These things happen and you learn from them," Chris said, not at all sounding like he was a young guy under 21. "I feel like hurting him, like taking revenge on him. I have never had feelings like this before. I know you'll tell me it's wrong to feel this way. Right now, I feel like giving him a piece of my mind." "Well, you need to confront him. He doesn't know you know about the other girl." After a long silence, the city lights streaming through the window, Veronica let go and looked at him with eyes that burned brightly. "Are you still a virgin, Chris?" she said to him. Orange County Personal Trainer He found it odd that she asked that. "Yes, why are you asking me?" "I'd like to give myself to you tonight. I'd like your first time to be with me." He found it hard to believe, like it was a dream. He had fantasized about a moment like this with her and now it was a reality. He knew, and she knew the timing was bad. It would be just sex, too, like it had been with Jon. Veronica did not feel sexually attracted to Chris. He was cute, no doubt about it, but he did not stir in her the intense longing and passion that Jon had made her feel. How odd, she thought, that she was herself going to do what Jon did to her. "Are you sure you want to do this?" Chris said. She kissed him then, taking his face in her hands and pressed her lips against his. Chris nearly stumbled awkwardly but he held on to her, reaching for her in a tight embrace. They held each other and they kissed for a while. Perhaps it would be best just to make out and not engage in sex, but she wanted to feel his cock inside of her, making her orgasm and forgetting the last bit of pain that lingered in her heart. She wished that Jon could see her doing this with Chris, especially because Chris was so loving with her, that to look at them, one would think they were deeply in love. Slowly, very slowly, Chris removed her top. She was wearing a bra and he gazed at her breasts as if mesmerized. His heart bast faster and he found it hard to breathe. He continued to stare at her body in amazement as Veronica slid down her shorts. She was wearing matching white panties and she stood poised like a statuette in front of him. "Now you undress," she told him. He undressed quickly, as if eager for her to see him in the nude. She smiled softly, liking what she saw. His white body was toned and he had developed quite an abdomen. Veronica surveyed his body up and down. His cock was becoming erect. There was no hair on his legs and that made him look smooth and young. She realized he was young, much younger than she was, and he was probably now nineteen years old. He smiled at her. "Like what you see? It's thanks to you and our work outs." They were in each other's arms again and kissing again. Chris loved to kiss, and he found it an exquisite pleasure to kiss her. He would press against her lips firmly, kiss her bottom lip and kiss both softly and fiercely, as if devouring her with his mouth. Veronica realized this is all he had probably done, was to kiss, but she was going to have him do more. She felt giddy with the realization that it was now her turn to be in control, her turn to be the seductress and he was in her power. Was this what Jon felt when he had been with her? By the way he was jello in her arms; she felt she could make him do anything that pleased her. The rest of the night, Veronica taught him the art of lovemaking andhe had his first orgasm. She relished in the very act of taking his virginity. They had time to indulge in everything. First, she had him arouse her by sucking her nipples and caressing her breasts while standing up. Their hands were all over each other, caressing, kneading and stimulating. Because Chris was a romantic at heart, he surprised her by stopping all of a sudden. Veronica was on her back on the couch, waiting for his next move. She saw him leave the living room and return with a stereo. He put on some music. It was classical, Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony. Their hearts pounding to the sound of the music, Chris then mounted her parted her legs and slipped his cock inside her. He did this rather quickly, grabbing her firmly by the waist and pulling her to him each time he thrust. His hips bucked against her and Veronica moaned in the sudden tide of passion, like she was having a quickie. She held on to his back and then put her hands on his ass, locking her legs around him. After she had her orgasm, she got up and told him to stand up. She knelt and began to suck his cock, slowly and lovingly. He was beyond himself with pleasure, closing his eyes and caressing her hair as she laved and sucked his cock deeply. Chris could not hold it in any more and he spilled his cum on her breasts. Afterward, they held each other and they fell asleep, both drained and exhausted....... The next morning, Veronica showed up at Jon's office in downtown Newport Beach. His office was located in a high floor of a building, and many people were up and about in this area, as it was a busy commercial locale. Everyone was wearing long sleeved shirts and ties, the women in pant suites or professional-looking jackets and skirts, and Veronica, dressed in her top and shorts with the gym logo looked very out of place. All eyes were on her. She looked pissed and yet beautiful, and the men in the office leered at her. The women did not know what to make of this young woman storming into the office like she was about to tell them she was suing them for fraud. She found Jon's office and she walked in. "Veronica? What the hell are you doing here," Jon said in surprise from behind his desk. He was still drinking his coffee. "You're a mean, arrogant narcissist," she said to him," and a pig. You're the king of the male chauvinist pigs and the king of scum." "What the fuck? What is this all about and close the door. They'll hear you." "Let them hear! They ought to know just what kind of guy you really are." Jon furrowed his brow and he got up from his desk. Quickly, he shut the door and was about to seize her by the arms, but she did not let him and she moved aside. "You said you loved me and you did not mean a word of it. You never loved me. I was stupid to believe I could change you, stupid to think that we had achance at a real relationship," she said," you see, I know about you and Nina." "Oh," Jon said, suddenly becoming red. "You're a bastard! I wasn't enough for you? You said we were exclusive. You broke your own stupid little S and M code." "Veronica, I'm sorry." "It's too late. I can't trust you. I'm here to let you know we're through." "But I, I was weak, baby. I really don't care for her. If you could just give me another chance -" "No way. I'm sick of this. I loved our little games but now they've come to an end. You were wrong for me. I hate you. I never want to remember you. I probably will remember you but I want to move on and learn from my mistakes. I've come to end it." "But -" "You blew it, Jon. I will become a famous star and you'll regret having cheated on me. Even if I don't succeed in Hollywood, I'll find some other way to get my dreams fulfilled. And I will never come back to Orange County. Goodbye Jon." She walked out of his office and slammed the door. Jon felt sick at heart and was overcome with sadness. He moved lethargically back to his seat and bowed his head, covering his face with his big hands............ Veronica had made up her mind. She was through with men. She realized that many women who had been hurt by men said the same thing and then found love and forgot about the past and were really not through with men after all. Well, she felt that she would actually be an exception and really give up men for good. She could be happy living a life devoted to her career, to making a difference in the world through charity work around the world like a United Nations activist. She wanted to go home, to her real home in Montreal, Canada. She missed the beauty and warmth of her homeland, missed her family, and wanted to be as far from the shallowness of California as possible. After a week passed, she called her agent and told him she wanted to go back to her native Canada, where she still had family. She wanted time to be alone and to think and she would be back much later. She did not want to tell him that she hoped she'd never come back. Perhaps she could be happy just acting in theaters in Canada, or appearing in independent Canadian films. Veronica packed up her clothes and worldly belongings, let her landlady know that she was moving out and she hopped on a plane that was to take her to Montreal. Off she went, the plane soaring through the skies lit up with a fiery sunset. She bid goodbye to Orange County and as she closed her eyes, she felt drowsy. She decided to fall asleep during the flight. She did not know when, she did not know how, but she'd become a star one way or another. And perhaps she would discover that fame and fortune did not mean a thing in the long run. She could be happy being a Nobody, for at least being a nobody did not bring the issues that came with being Someone. She thought of Jon and Chris, two men whose lives she may have changed. Jon mightStill grow up and begin to treat women with more respect and consequently discover that he could be more of a man and less of a boy. She also thought of Chris, who was now a man, and what his life would bring. She thought of Orange County and vowed never to return. There was a time when she had considered marrying and raising a family in Orange County, living with them in familial bliss in a lovely house by the sea. She thought she'd see sixty plus summers in California. She had even told her folks about Jon, omitting the sordid details of their sexual relationship. Now, she'd have to tell them she dumped him when she discovered he was not husband material. Perhaps, she was not meant to marry. She realized all women were not destined to marry. Her calling, she thought, was not family. She could still discover what her calling was. She stared at the small window by her seat, staring at the sun-lit skies whose red-orange glow looked like the clouds had caught fire. She was becoming drowsy. In her half-awake state, she thought she heard the faint sounds of Chris' violin, singing sweetly for her and wistfully. She had never felt more tired in all her life. She felt as if she could asleep for a thousand years. She was Sleeping Beauty, waiting for the perfect Prince to awaken her. Jon had not been that prince. Maybe he would never come. She would not wait for Chris to grow up, since her own biological clock was ticking and she was getting older. Maybe the man she longed for waited for her in another city, in another state, or perhaps even another country. The world was still big, and she was so small. Veronica closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. Orange County: The Personal Trainer Newport Beach, Orange County, California The clanking of plate racks and the grunts of people straining to lift their respective weights mixed with the sounds of the pulsating techno music that pumped into the gym. Countless others were there, trying to attain that perfect, sculpted body But the one who already had that body was there to simply keep up the good work, as well as perhaps find some extra...cardio. Jon's dark eyes would glance around the gym, scanning the many scantily clad women in their short shorts and spandex tops, a smirk crossing his lips as he pictured a few of them bent over in front of him. But he would shake his head, a hand coming to rake through those sweat dampened strands of hair before he returned to his workout, laying down on the bench to grip the weight bar, lifting it with a grunt before he continued his bench presses, muscles flexing hard as he pushed the weight up off of his chest. Dressed in a simple grey muscle shirt and a pair of dark gym shorts, his already defined muscles were quite the eye candy to the women. Veronica was one of those women. She had never seen a more enticing male specimen and blushed in shame at the prolonged sensation of desire which invaded her body. She knew that if she stared long, that people would begin to notice and that the guy would notice and it would be awkward. She did not like to be obvious. Discretion and subtlety was her style. She was an actress, and super model, well, at least she fancied herself to be just that. She had come to California from Canada and become a citizen. Her luck began when a fashion photographer discovered her serving drinks at a lounge bar in Hollywood. It was more than typical. Soon, she began to model and then took acting lessons. Now, here at this gym, a second home to her, she felt alive and empowered. It was for this reason that she felt deeply embarrassed. She wished to keep an air of mystery and even modesty rather than pure lust. She looked away, casting her eyes down and continued her work out. The weights clanked down again as he settled the bar back on the resting position, huffing as he grunted and pulled himself to sit on the edge of the bench for a moment, getting his breath back before he stood and reached a hand down to grab the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up to wipe the sweat from his brown. Whether intentional or not, that hard six pack of abs was shown, brown skin exposed to those wandering eyes. He smirked wider now, already feeling the eyes of many lock onto his form and he couldn't help but chuckle beneath his shirt. He always loved the idea of having all these women under his control, seemingly able to snap his fingers to have them drop down and suck him off. It was quite the life he had, and soon eyes would travel over to the one who had been staring at him the most, and his eyes would glisten a bit as he smiled to her, waving a bit before he moved to the next station, grabbing the dumbbells in his hands to begin his curls; biceps bulging with each pull up on those weights. Veronica blushed. Had her lustful glance, directed toward the hunk been so obvious and transparent? She knew that this sort of thing probably happened all the time. It was almost a cliche. It was risible.. Other women had stared at him in much the same way. An invisible sexuality filled the air and how could it not, being a gym, an enclosure where semi-nude bodies in their prime sweated and strained to the beat of a music almost intentionally provocative. She had seen her share of handsome male bodies, and female bodies, for that matter, each strong, healthy and totally desirable, but this muscular stranger was producing the effect that he had power over her, as if he had picked her out of all the women to be the one most perfect to satisfy him. Veronica did not know what to feel. She wanted him, God knows she wanted him but there was also the matter that she did not know who he was nor anything about him, which involved risk.. Jon would drop the weights back to where they were, the clank echoing above the music and other metallic clanks. He would huff once again, chest rising and falling a bit quicker now as he stretched his arms out, eyes once again returning to the woman he had apparently chosen for his next bit of work out. He kept that charming grin on his face as he made his way over to her slowly, a finger soon moving out to trail across her hip as he came up beside her, his eyes soon locking onto her own, that grin of his having a hint of mischief in it. He let his finger trail away from her hip, letting it slide across her stomach before he rested his hands on his own hips, sweat trickling down those bare, muscled arms of his. That lustful tone would soon ring out to her, and many of the other women were quite filled with disappointment to see him speaking with the woman. "Mmm...so, you seen something you like yet?" "I think you've got me confused for someone else," Veronica said, her words deliberately curt. Although her tone was that of annoyance, her eyes, like magnets, locked with his, possessing the same sexual vibe, only she tried hard to fight it, to resist. "I'm very sorry," she said a minute later when she saw that he was still standing there grinning, "I'm just a bit stressed. I came here to work out to release my tensions"." "Aren't we all? But I've got the best solution to help...release...those tensions." He said with a sensual voice, hand moving back to her hips to now grip it lightly, pulling her body next to his own, that smirk still planted firmly on his lips as he stared down to her, knowing all too well that sexual vibe that lay in her eyes. He was an expert at this, and breaking down her already cracking defense was all too easy for him. "C'mon...I won't bite you or anything." He would soon lean in, letting his last words escape as a lustful whisper into her ear, his hot breath teasing the skin on her ear. "Well...unless you want me to, that is..." "I don't want you to bite me," she said, "and all of a sudden it's too hot in here for me." She smiled faintly, nervously. She looked around her, her eyes moving to and fro, as if surveying everyone and ensuring no one was watching them. She felt her legs begin to quiver and her blood begin to race. What should I do, she thought. Never before had such an opportunity arisen. She looked at him squarely in the eye. "I'm done. If you would be a gentleman and escort me out of here...to my car...maybe we can get some much needed fresh air and talk." "Mmm...sounds like a plan, fresh air sounds good..." He whispered into her ear, his body feeling her legs quiver. Tennis shoes thumped softly on the pavement as he stepped outside, eyes glancing down to her with that sneaky smile of his as he took a deep breath, taking in that cool fresh air. "So...where to, babe?" "Where to?" she repeated, as if she was confused or did not understand English. She was pensive for a brief moment. Where to? Toward wherever this powerful yearning, like a fuel, was driving her, toward the first experience she'd ever have with pure carnal abandon in the spur of the moment with a man she had just met. Still, she thought she'd be coy and discreet and not give him the pleasure of thinking she wanted him in the least. "I think we can chat about my services as a fitness trainer which you must surely interest you. I'm working as a fitness trainer when I'm not auditioning or modeling. I think we could dicuss this in a public place, like - a restaurant. And that would be such a relief because I'm ...hungry". "Oh I'm pretty sure I don't need a fitness trainer, I think I'm pretty much set in that department." No shit he didn't need a fitness trainer, what with that nearly perfect body of his. Muscles in all the right places, skin tanned so perfectly as well. But he would simply chuckle down to her as his hands returned to her waist and this time he went further, giving there round asscheeks a firm squeeze, enough to lift her off her feet a little bit. Perhaps she hadn't taken the bait just yet, but then again, if she hadn't taken the bait, he doubted she would have even followed him out here, let alone let him grope her ass so teasingly. But he made sure his message was clear, and he let that lust filled gaze stare back into her own. "Could you get your hands off my behind, please" she said, moving aside. "I suppose you are used to getting your way. What is your name by the way? I'm Veronica. Ever seen me in a soap or tv show or magazine?". Jon sighed, releasing his hold on her cheeks. He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair once again, scratching the top of his head before his arms dropped to his side for a moment, only to fold loosly over his chest as he listened to her. Who did she think she was? The way she was staring at him, he imagined they would barely make it to the exit without ending up ass naked in one of the locker rooms. He would simply sigh again, eyes closing for a moment. "I'm Johnny Perez, fitness trainer as well." Veronica felt sheepish. He was also a trainer, she should have guessed. "I don't believe I've ever heard of you either,"she said, "if you assumed I'm supposed to know you as well. That was my first visit to the gym. I'm not a local.of Orange County, and I'm not from California, really. I suppose you've declined my proposition to take in a restaurant?".. ."Uh, no...didn't expect you to know me. Couldn't care less if you did or didn't, actually." Okay, now he was getting a bit frustrated, now somewhat regretting that he didn't take up the hot blonde doing squats. But apparently there was no turning back now, so he kept his arms folded over his chest, weight shifting slightly from one foot to the other as he raised his brow slightly. "Why in the world would we go to a restaurant?" Jon didn't do the whole 'dinner and romance' thing, so that confused look on his face was more than enough to give a no as an answer." "Oh, I see," Veronica said, and she felt totally in control. Egomaniac, she thought. Sure, she was the same, but in all fairness, it was up to her whether she went to bed with him or not. She had no idea why she found it exhilarating, titillating and amusing. It was as if their banter and bickering was part of what most would deem to be foreplay. "I see," she continued, "you're not used to quality." There. That was perfect. He couldn't have missed the sly implication regarding his preferred type of girls. "Well, I suppose," he said, "we can always eat at my place. Hope you don't mind we take my car." He pressed the button to unlock his doors, letting her climb in before he followed, cranking the engine, the roar of the engine echoing slightly in the parking lot before he pulled out onto the street. They drove out of Newport Beach, the beach city vanishing behind them and went to another part of the coast, Laguna Beach before he pulled into the driveway in front is his apartment. The engine was cut off, and he hopped out of his car, eyes glancing behind him to make sure she was close behind before he headed up to his door, keys jingling before he unlocked the front door and pushed it open, letting her step inside first. She looked around, her eyes darting here and there in rapid movements, as if expecting some other woman to be there inside. For all she knew he could be married or in a relationship and it would be shameful to be seen entering the house with him. Her eyes took in her eyes took in the maleness of the place - large posters of Harley motorcycles and semi-nude female models. She was of course searching to see if he had a poster or even calendar with her photo, but he did not. His abode was furnished with Playboy bunny signs, leather sofas, dark woods, ash trays. She did not hesitate to sit down on the leather couch and she looked up at him. "Nice place. Is there ...anything I should know about you? Something you need to tell me?" she said to him, trying to suggest, as if in psychic waves, whether he was taking a big risk . He tapped the door shut with his foot before he followed close behind her, tossing his keys onto the coffee table before he peeled his sweat drenched shirt off his body, letting the cool air hit his brawny chest, sighing softly at the feel of the air. He followed her over to the couch, leaning against the arm of the sofa, arms hanging at his side while he just looked down to her with those dark eyes of his, seemingly always filled with all sorts of naughty thoughts. His shoulders would shrug before he took a seat on the arm, scratching his thigh for a bit. "Nope...nothing I can think of. Why, something you wanna hear?" She giggled. "No." She was quiet and pensive for a moment, basking in the pleasant sunlight that streamed through the Venetian blinds that were not drawn. "I'd like a drink," she said to him, "what are your tastes in alcohol?" "Pretty much whatever you want, I've got a full bar." He nodded over to the corner behind the couch to the liquor cabinet, stocked to the brim with everything from absinthe to whiskey. He had quite the broad tastes in the matter, and so did all the women he brought home, so he figured it best to just get anything and everything and keep it stocked. It was not possible, Veronica thought to herself, that he could read her mind. Perhaps he could read her body, and it was a body that was sensual and lithe, already becoming excited over the thought of his hands caressing her, undressing her, his lips over hers in a passionate kiss. Her mind, however, was a whirlwind of emotion. So if she gave in to him, she'd just be another knotch on his belt, another girl in the parade of his conquests. But if she did not, she'd miss out on sex she'd always heard was good- the purely carnal and intense, just for the heck of it. She wanted more than just sex and she figured he probably thought she did want more. She sighed. "I don't think I want a drink after all" she said. Perhaps he did not expect her to say that, she thought. He could indeed read her body, and he was reading that she was aching to be naked on that nice leather couch, letting the material rub against her skin while he pounded into any orifice he chose, perhaps even all of them if he felt he had the energy. But her words were what threw him off. First she wanted this, then she wanted that, so on and so forth. The backtracking was beginning to wear on his mind, so he simply rubbed his chin and nodded to her, shrugging his shoulders lightly to her once again, body situated to get up to the bar, but he let himself relax once she changed her mind. "Well...alright, no drinks then," Jon said, grinning. Their eyes locked again, and once more, the invisible sexual energy, like electricity between two conductors, filled the void. She was now carefully surveying him as if to memorize him, to keep an image of him in her mind. His ethnicity was most certainly Hispanic, for his skin was darkly bronzed and brown. But there was, at the same time, an American "white boy" kinda vibe about him. His hair was long, and jet-black, hair he evidently went to great lengths to maintain, to the point it was shinier than even her own hair and smooth, very Indian-like, falling over his broad shoulders. "I have many personal trainers as friends or at least acquaintances around many parts of Southern California," Veronica said to him, "and I've never heard of you. Are you not training anymore?" "That's correct," he said, "I quit some years ago. It was not for me. Some have better luck with it and can live off it in grand style. Not me. I've long been a commodities trader, I'm in high finance, recently made a Hedge Fund Manager. You know I make 7 figures. Over a million a year in Fashion Island. I should be able to clear 5 million in the next twelve months." Veronica's eyes fell over a photo of him on a Harley, shirtless, wearing tight faded blue jeans, his eyes shielded from the hot sun in dark sunglasses. "But you drive a Harley, work out with the rest of us and seduce women like me," she said. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to," he said, "but I know...you want to. Don't you?" She did not reply, but her legs were quivering again. She got up and paced the floor and then sat down again. Jon was amused. "I....don't bother getting me something to eat as planned," she said, "I've lost my appetite" The silence seemed to make Jon aroused, and she was silent for a good few seconds. "I am beginning to think it was a mistake coming here," she said flatly, "I should have continued to work out for at least another fifteen minutes. Time goes by so fast, don't you find? May I use your bathroom?" Another shrug would follow as he stood, stretching his body out with a small groan. "Fine with me." She must have been crazy to think she was in control here. There was a difference in agitation and her controlling him. But once he heard her speak, he just shrugged again like it was nothing at the moment. Not giving up, but more a reverse psychology. "Yeah, sure...whatever. Bathroom's down the hall on the right, and don't break anything." It sure was easy to be Jon, knowing that if one girl slipped through the cracks, it apparently wasn't worth it and there was already two more to replace the one, so he wasn't heartbroken at all by her words. But then again, there was something about her, something he could not quite put his finger on. She carried with her a magic aura, a superior quality of being that other girls in his life did not possess. She was pretty, there was no question. Perhaps even beautiful, provided she could dress up in more alluring wear than sportswear. She was a model, she had said, and he believed her. But she had a veryreal, very down-to-earth and yet distant, mysterious nature that intrigued him. Her hair was blonde, her eyes blue-green, her figure perfect with the right curvature. Her ass was the hottest he'd ever seen. Now, he wanted her, and felt he could possess her, dominate her, for it had been, for a long time, a secret fantasy of his, to wield heavily masculine power over a particularly submissive woman. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted any woman. After a few minutes, she returned. "I had to freshen up, I felt a bit dirty. I suddenly felt so dirty," she said, emphasizing her words. "I.. guess..the exertions of the gym also were part of it. I'm a bit...I tend to...sweat...a lot." She sighed, tired. She lay back on the couch, as if she lived in this place she'd only stepped into minutes ago. After a while, she couldn't stand it. "Listen, Jon. I know what you're thinking. I really am ...well ...inexperienced, though not a virgin. I know you must get all the girls and while that's not ok with me because I don't especially like to feel like cattle, I want to ask you if you intend to call me again and if you want to continue seeing me?" He simply watched as she made herself more than comfortable on his couch, brow still raised as he listed to her speak. He smiled down to her and moved in front of her on the couch, hands reaching down to pull her up enough to allow him to press his lips roughly against her own, tongue slipping out of his mouth and into her own, hands gripping her hips to keep her next to his body. Hopefully, that would end her talking and get her back into a wild sensual state, the state he knew she was fully capable of. Veronica produced a cry and tore herself from his kiss. Her breath began to get heavy and her heart beat wildly. "I - I -you didn't answer my question, Jon" she managed to say, her hands on his shoulders, pushing against them... "Uh, yeah, whatever." He said as he pressed his lips right back against her own, hands moving to grab a hold of her wrists and pin her down on the couch, not wanting her to resist him like that again. He was soon on top of her on the couch, body resting between her legs as his lips worked to get her even more heated, as well as keep her yakking to a minimum. She was battling against herself. Part of her wanted to escape him, to fight him off, but part of him wanted to give in to the tide of overwhelming pleasure her body was feeling. She was responsive, and kissed him in return, though her kisses were lighter and her body began to writhe under him, as if she were caught in something and trying to get out. God did he know how to kiss. Why did they always know how to kiss, the bad boys. She wanted to hate herself for this was giving him too much amusement. Orange County: The Personal Trainer "I - think you are a selfish, arrogant bastard," she said to him, "and after you're done making out, I'm leaving." He was no longer really paying attention to her, more focused on her lips, as well as letting her feel that growing bulge in his pants rub teasingly across her crotch, letting that throbbing member rub against her covered crotch while his lips began to slip away from her own, lowering down before they reached her neck, and he would swoop down slowly, gentle, teasing kisses placed along the sensitive flesh of her neck, teeth moving to bite gently along her flesh. His mouth and tongue spiraled downward, over her navel and then her breasts, which he plumped with his hands. "Bastard," she said over and over, her hips beginning to gyrate on their own accord, her body becoming hot and her pussy began to get moist. "I should have known you'd be like this." Jon's hips grinded harder against her smirking as he felt her grinding right back. "See? You're lying. You don' hate me a bit. You aren't complaining one damn bit." He smirked before he moved down on her body, hands moving to grip the waist of her pants before he pulled up on them, loosening them off of her hips before he began to pull them down slowly. She was moaning softly, her breath becoming ragged, her eyes glistening with what appeared to be tears. She closed her eyes. She was wet and she wanted him as badly, needed him as she needed to breathe oxygen. She removed her own top, in a careless and swift motion, and it fell to the carpet, where her pants lay. Her pert breasts were in full view. Her rosy pink nipples were hardened. She looked at Shane and she was silent. "Hah, see? Much better now, isn't it..." He said with a smirk, feeling that this was quite different from the blonde girls he usually stuck with. His hands moved to grip onto those pert breasts of hers, fingertips pinching down onto those pink nipples for a moment before he stood and dropped his own pants, letting that vein-filled meat loose from its cloth prison. He kneeled down onto the couch in front of her, hands soon gripping onto her waist to flip her over onto her stomach, followed by lifting her ass into the air, leaving her upper body down on the couch. He came up behind her quickly, a hand gripping onto his shaft to press that head against her wet pussy, teasing that wet slit for a moment before he began to stuff his meat inside of her wet walls. "Oaah...Aaaahh, Johnny," she cried out, her voice raised in ecstatic volume, her eyes wet, her body afire. She had never felt more alive, her mind was no longer in turmoil. She was at peace. Her body quivered, her ass gyrated and she moaned aloud, feeling his thrusts and becoming dizzy with the pleasure of everything. His hard, big cock, the feel of leather on her stomach and hands. "Aaaahhh!!! " . She felt the first orgasm building up. He thrusted deep and hard inside of her, hands gripping her hips tight to bring her back into each rough thrust, glad she finally stopped talking and got to what he wanted to hear; those sweet sounds of pleasure. Her shrieks and moans was music to his ears, and they made him thrust deeper into her, hips slapping hard against her ass cheeks, making them wobble with each push into her. Hands would eventually slide back to her ass cheeks, spreading them apart to take a good look at that tight backdoor of hers. "Mmmm. What I wouldn't give for that ass. But plenty of time for that later. Come here, I wanna fuck you." His strong hands were again on her slim waist and he moved her on to her back in a swift and rough motion. She felt the soft leather caress her back and closed her eyes. Jon grunted, like a cave-man that had conquered a woman, as if he had beaten her up and dragged her to his cave. He pushed her legs as far apart as they could get and he was inside of her in no time. The suddenness of his thrust made her jolt and cry out, her body responding immediately with thrusts of her own. His cock was slipping further inside her, and she moaned and convulsed beneath him. Her moaning was louder now, nearly screams, and he rammed his hard huge cock into her deeply, roughly. She crossed her legs over his waist and held on to his shoulders for support. Jon pressed his head next to hers and bit her ear. "See you like to fuck. Say you like to fuck. Say you want more from me." "Oaahh, yes, Johnny yes," she cried out, " I need you...fuck me.' "I'm fucking you." His thrusts only increased in speed. Veronica held on to his hard ass and squeezed, her voice now becoming a series of screams. She was crying out like she was dying, and she was, of pleasure. She was surprised she'd cum so quickly and still she had the energy for further orgasms. She was writhing beneath him and her voice echoed in the house. She was thinking for the first time how absolutely heavenly it was, even if she knew, and she did, that it was going to be perhaps this one time, and she was certain he wouldn't call her again, that she'd never see him again. She was a whimpering, mewling, crying thing as she felt his cock deeply inside of her and she added to the intensity by arching her back and looking back at him time and again, her face contorted with pleasure. Another orgasm came, then another, then another, her body hot as if she was burning up, her mind whirling with the dizzy vision of his apartment rotating in a 360 degree circle - there went the leather couch, the collection of films by a shelf she was certain was pornography, the posters of slutty girls bending over cars and motorcycles, the clock on the wall, the doors, the kitchen, the bar. The walls rotated around and the sunlight streaming in made the temperature even hotter. She cried out as if in pain, her body already soft and tender from his weight over her.She fell silent once again and lowered her head, as if defeated. She had not, however, noted that he had not yet reached his own orgasm. Certain that he would get to it somehow, she wondered how he'd achieve it, for he was exhibiting self-restrain and lasted as long as a healthy young alpha male was supposed to. But then she caught sight of him in the mirror by the living room wall, a mirror that was very close and its reflection was almost in her face. There was a touch of gray in his hair already, a very tiny streak, barely visible. Jon was not a young man! He had to have been at least in his forties. She looked at him, spent. "What are you going to do now?" she said. "This," he replied. Jon tired quickly of feeling her pussy spasm around his invading cock, chuckling each time he felt her cum around his penetrating meat. He soon emerged from her pussy slowly, thick head rubbing against her walls before he popped out, shaft covered in wet orgasmic juices. Hands kept on her ass cheeks, he spread them apart wider, watching as she lowered her head down before he grinned and positioned that wet head against her ass hole, sucking in a breath before he began to guide his manhood into her butt, grunting as he watched each inch get stuffed up into that tight ass of hers, veins bulging as he forced himself up inside of her ass. She was quiet and perhaps felt shame. It was rough and dirty, but he figured she had expected it from him. Maybe her silence owed to something else. Perhaps it was her first time being anally fucked. His hips bucked against her ass and she was gradually coming alive again, no longer silent and sad. She was screaming again, her voice filling his ears, mixing with his own grunts and roars. It was the most incredible sexual experience she'd ever had to that point. She had never been taken it anally and the orgasm she had was made more intense because it was her first anal orgasm and was more intense than even when she took it in her pussy. She was beyond words now, and she was tired, limp. She looked up at him. "I can't anymore" she said to him, "please stop" He pounded into her ass hole hard, fingertips digging into her butt cheeks as he slammed into her, watching as that veiny meat slipped in and out of her tight little ass, loving the sight of his meat disappearing into that sinfully tight orifice. Veronica arched her back and she moved against his thrusts. He slapped her ass and his hands stung her, making her scream in pleasure. His grunts and groans got louder and louder, and ignoring her words to the fullest, be began to jackhammer into her ass hole, balls slapping hard against her soaking wet pussy, sweat dripping down his body as he slammed her ass for a few minutes longer before the feel her anal orgasm was too much to bear, and the feeling of her ass hole clamping down hard on his cock pushed him over the edge, and he finally shoved himself as deep as he could into her butt, cock spasming hard inside of her as his hot jizz shot deep inside, her ass hole filling up with his cum. His voice was powerful as he roared and came heavily. "You do beat them all," he said, "God...woman. That was ...sooo good. I can't get enough of you." "You already have," she said, looking at how tired he was. "I should go now," she said, "I have to dress. I expect I shall never see you again. I will also make it a point never to visit that gym in Newport Beach again." "Oh, but you will, and you'll go there to see me, to find me," he said to her, his voice tinged with powerful lust and male dominance. "You are going to be my cum slave, my cum slut. I will train you. I will train you. You will soon be a beautiful, tender thing, that I can care for and love, that I can use and do with as I please. I can have any girl I want. I have instead decided to keep you all to myself. I won't have any other women but you cannot have any other men, except me. Is that understood?" Veronica's eyes glistened with a beautiful glow. She had gotten dressed. She brushed her long blonde hair away from her face, hair which was still slightly out of place owing to the fucking. "I understand," she said, walking out the door , "and I will come to you. I expect it will give me great pleasure to see how an ex-personal trainer trains a personal trainer as myself." Orange Moon A mottled carpet of leaves flew off the blacktop, and then fluttered back to earth like butterflies descending on a field of sage. Just another hour, thought Brady, returning his attention to the road in front of him. He turned his baseball cap around and depressed his right foot, the force of acceleration driving him deeper into his seat. With a push of a button, fresh air rushed into the cabin to the hum of a sliding glass panel. Brady didn't know that the corners of his mouth had curled upward. He was hundreds of miles away, watching her scurry around the bedroom, late as always. Just another hour. He recalled the way she flopped backward onto the bed, kicking her legs, yanking the leg openings of her yoga pants past her ankles. She lifted her bottom to let the black tights hug her hips. So cute, he thought, just like a little girl. She shrieked and tried to roll away when he made his move for her, but she wasn't quick enough. His hands pinned her between them, that just-showered fragrance driving him crazy. Damp, wavy hair fell away to bare that special place below her ear. He lowered his head for a nibble but she held tight to an immovable forearm rising from the mattress and turned her naked back to him. We're late already, baby. I promise I'll make it up to you. She looked over her shoulder and winked. You know how I get. It'll be worth the wait. The satellite radio cut out beneath overhanging branches, and suddenly he was back again. Fragments of light flashed through the canopy of deep greens, crimson, and gold, his eyes struggling to adjust to the strobe-like effect. "These sunglasses," he said, yanking down the visor. "Useless. Polarized lenses, my ass." "They're Oakleys. I gave them to you for your birthday?" The voice was directly behind his head. "Remember?" "Aaannnd I love them." Brady sat up ramrod straight in the driver's seat, his eyeballs big as apples. "Uh... I guess it's just the angle of the sun this time of year, babe." Tiya cackled. She was riding shotgun, half facing Brady with her shoulders straddling the space between the upholstered door and the leather seat back. Her bare feet were perched together on the polished wood console. Brady glanced sideways at burnt orange nails and the athletic turn of her calves. She wiggled one big toe at him and continued to laugh. "Nice recovery, Mr. Smooth." She turned to her friend. "Jane, are you gonna let your husband slide with a weak-ass response like that?" Brady peered over his shades at the darkly radiant face. "You know, I can unlock your door from here, Tiya. Do me a favor... lean back a little harder and pull that handle, 'kay?" He snatched her elbow. "NO! DON'T! Hand me your wallet first." "Patriiiick!" She looked at her husband in the back seat, or rather his tight, thick rings of black hair. His head was bent toward the glowing display in his hands. "You gonna let him talk to your wife like that?" They were winding their way north through rural New England, having left the interstate highway many miles back. The couples were taking a long weekend to do some hiking and to see the brilliant fall foliage. Jane and Tiya had cooked up plans for the excursion a month earlier. It was another one of those deals that sounded harmless enough to Brady in the abstract, especially when the reality of it wouldn't be staring him in the face for weeks. Hiking was cool, but now, embarked on what was really a glorified leaf viewing expedition, he was kicking himself for agreeing to it. He would miss his softball team's playoff game. And as badly as that sucked... hello? Football? He shook his head sadly. It wasn't just football; it was Giants – Cowboys on Sunday. And his brand new, fifty inch flat screen would be cold, dark, and all alone. Their destination was a one horse town in northern Maine. Jane had a distant cousin, someone Brady had never heard mentioned in six years of marriage, who owned a bed and breakfast in that remote, green corner of America. Having left home at dawn, they had already been on the road for hours. Brady pondered the eminently viewable trees back home, all leafy and, um... barky? There was one redeeming element to the trip that Brady couldn't overlook. For as long as he had known her, Jane became surpassingly amorous whenever the couple spent the night in an unfamiliar bed. The farther from home, it seemed, the greater her passion. Now even a dreary business layover at a faceless franchise hotel would produce a Pavlov-like response in him. He pictured the impish grin that greeted him whenever Jane bounded onto a strange mattress and bounced on her knees. Wanna fuck, big boy? He tucked his hips and squirmed deeper into his seat, attempting a hands-free adjustment of the dick that had begun to stir. "Hey guys, this is pretty cool. Check this out." Patrick was in the back seat next to Jane, scrolling feverishly on his tablet. "Shit, where did it go? Oh... yeah. Okay, here it is." He leaned forward and read from the device, his head looming between his wife and Brady. "Listen to this. 'The occurrence of the Autumnal Equinox, for many Pagan and Wiccan traditions, is a time of giving thanks for a successful harvest and other blessings. Festivals and ceremonies traced to ancient times often feature offerings to the forces of nature. The Equinox falls on the first day of autumn and is a time of balance of between dark and light. It marks the passing of summer and portends the coming winter, a time of darkness and death.' " Silence. "Oh-kaaay, hon, good to know." Tiya measured him with a sideways look. "No... listen," he said. "This shit goes all the way back to the time of the Druids." "Who are the Druids?" Jane threw her arm over Patrick's shoulder and stuck her head in the huddle. "I think it's an Australian football team." Brady steered the Rover around a sweeping river bank. "Funny. Ignore him, Jane. They were a Celtic priestly class dating all the way back to about 200 BC, maybe earlier. Very mysterious." Patrick was scrolling again. "The goddamn Romans outlawed their asses at one point. Dudes were into some heavy shit... human sacrifices, crazy sex ceremonies, you name it." "You're absolutely certain we're not talking about Aussie football players. Because that sounds..." "Ooooh, I wanna hear about the sex ceremonies!" said Jane. "Honey, this is fascinating. It is." Tiya ran a hand over Patrick's closely cropped beard. "But why are you telling us this?" "Because today is September twenty-second!" His three companions looked at him blankly. "The Autumnal Equinox? Jesus, how thick can you be? We should do something special... a big feast or something." "As long as there's wine, I'm in." Jane slumped back in her seat. "Exciting stuff, Pat. Really." Brady reached for the volume control, nodding his head. "Balance... dark, light... got it." "Okay, screw it." Patrick balled up his sweatshirt and stuffed it like a pillow between his head and the glass. "I'm gonna get some sleep." A stand of paperbark birch flew by, looking like pickets on a whitewashed fence. Beyond the skeletal trunks, Brady watched a regiment of deer pick through broken stalks in a brown corn field. He thought about the bed that was waiting for him somewhere up ahead and contemplated the ways Jane might make good on her promise. He just needed to find a way to make the next hour bearable. Jane and Tiya weren't helping. Since relieving Patrick behind the wheel he was treated to non-stop adolescent banter peppered with double entendre and fits of laughter. The ex-roommates typically got this way after killing a bottle of Pinot Grigio together, but something strange had been in the air all day. Tiya grinned wickedly as the conversation became more openly sexual and the women shared opinions on everything from vibrators to porn genres. The girls' suggestive talk held Brady in a sort of suspended pre-arousal state. "Hmmm... I think I like interracial scenes best, Janie." Tiya playfully nudged Brady's ribs with a big toe. She was clearly enjoying his discomfort. "Black girls taking on really hung white guys." "You guys know I'm here, right?" Brady asked. He looked down and patted his chest and arms. "I am, aren't I?" They ignored him. Listening to Jane's critique of personal lubricants, Tiya yawned and stretched one long leg, her toes brushing Brady's semi-erect penis. Without thinking, he closed a hand around the warm foot and pressed his thumb into her arch. They both froze. This was an accident, right? "Tiya?" "Hmmm? Oh. No, um... " She looked at Brady, who quickly returned his eyes to the road ahead. "We, uh... I never tried that stuff." Brady slowly released his breath, thanking God his wife was seated directly behind him. That would not have been easy to explain, he thought. Then it happened. Tiya pushed a little harder - no doubt about intent this time - and Brady felt a warm release in the pit of his stomach. He need only move her foot a few inches away from his groin to preserve propriety and to maintain the all-important pretense of innocence. He couldn't. He held her sole against the growing flesh in his faded jeans. A discreet turn of his head allowed him to take in her lightly muscled, caramel colored thighs. White panties inside the leg opening of her khaki shorts greeted him when she dropped open her knee. The surge between his legs, he knew, she couldn't miss. What am I doing? He asked himself. What is she doing? Tiya was practically family. Family with a husband in the back seat, that is. He checked Patrick's dozing reflection. Brady knew he wasn't the most perceptive guy around but he had picked up a peculiar vibe from the girls from the moment they all climbed into Patrick's new Land Rover. It was an atmosphere he couldn't quite define. And now this. Tiya gamely recovered and continued her conversation with Jane while her toes stroked the granite that now extended down his thigh beneath a threadbare layer of denim. Brady's heart pounded and his skin flushed with heat. Tiya, a close friend for as long as he'd known his wife, was actually feeling his cock. Check that. His hard cock. She curled her big toe and firmly probed the puffy outline of his mushroom shaped head. "Unghhhh..." "Honey, you okay?' "Uh, yeah babe... I," Brady shifted in his seat and toggled his head back and forth. "I guess my neck's a little stiff from driving." "A little stiff, Brady?" Tiya lowered her head and raised her eyebrows. She slid her heel back, nudging his balls. "You want me to massage it, baby?" The speedometer needle rose steadily past vertical. "No." Brady found the fleshy part of her little toe and rolled it between his fingers. "I'll be fine once we get there." Orange Moon "Hey, let me ask you something, Pat." He carried the packages into the white shingled Victorian house. "Have you noticed something, I don't know – weird - going on with the girls today?" "You mean they're fighting again?" "No, nothing like that. I can't explain it." He stuck his hands in his back pocket and considered the floor. "So... nothing?" Patrick lowered a heavy cardboard box onto the kitchen table to the sound of clinking glass. "No... but I'll tell you one thing that is weird. There is definitely something strange about the people in this town. Have you noticed the place is like a ghost town?" "Jane's cousin told her there's some huge event tonight that only the locals attend. Apparently, they're all pumped up for it." Brady pulled a brown, longneck bottle from the box and twisted open the cap. "It's one of those equinox celebrations you were babbling about in the car." Here was something else that needed sorting out: Patrick. They weren't close friends by any means but Brady genuinely liked him. As spouses of best friends, their job was merely to get along. He thought Tiya and Patrick made an odd pair. She was athletic, outgoing, and vibrant. He was cerebral, reserved, and unassuming. Brady had come to appreciate his quiet manner and subtle humor even if they didn't have the same interests. Tiya once bragged that her husband had set shot put records college. He deflected the attention in typical fashion. Yet Brady could easily see his thickly muscled build even now, more than a decade after Patrick's last competition. They sometimes worked out together and Brady enjoyed watching people's eyes pop out as Patrick added plate after plate to the barbell. "Yeah, but a whole town attending a pagan festival? Is that not creepy to you?" "What? Pagan...?" Brady snapped back into the moment. "Now don't get carried away, for Christ's sake. It's just a harmless local tradition." He took a long draw on his beer. "Anyway, whatever, right? As long as we have our own drinks and eats, I'm cool with it." Orange Moon Brady's hands moved over Jane's body freely now, fondling her breasts and rubbing his fingers between her legs. Their bodies slithered and writhed together. She ground her ass into her husband's groin and dropped her head to the side while he licked and sucked the side her neck. Grabbing a handful of silk, he pulled her shorts upward. She groaned as the satiny material separated her swollen folds, and his hand closed around her throat. They were both drunk on the dizzying ether of arousal, seemingly unaware of anyone or anything around them. Tiya realized that her mouth was parched and that the room had suddenly become warm. She could tell her husband was affected, too. His eyes bored in on Jane's coltish, tight body, a few ounces of silk offering the only hint of modesty. He sank lower in the deep seat, pulling Tiya with him and pushing his pelvis outward. A formidable bulge stood straight up in from his thighs, a wet spot spreading at its blunt end. Tiya looked at his erection, surprised and thrilled that he was aroused. She knew he had serious reservations about what they were doing. Despite her begging, he had only committed to staying for one drink. Feeling the urgency of her own desire, she circled the wide bulge with her fingertips and began to knead the spongy knob. Patrick groaned and lifted his hips. They were practically horizontal now, Patrick's buttocks just barely on the cushion. Tiya quickly unbuckled his belt and opened the flaps of his trousers. A wide, wedge-shaped head sheathed in dark folds of skin came into view. His erection rose through the fly of his boxers, just the tip of his leaking glans visible through the opening of his gathered foreskin. Her slender fingers slid the delicate membrane over his shaft, exposing Patrick's shining, deep red globe. "Ohhhhh, yeahhhh," he sighed. "C'mere, now." Patrick slipped the strap off her left shoulder and pushed the top of her dress down to expose her breast. He worked her fat nipple with his thick fingers while his free hand tried to shimmy his trousers over his butt. Part of her was dying to crouch between his legs and take his hot, salty cream but she couldn't bear to miss a second of the action in front of her. "Hands." Jane lifted her arms and Brady quickly tossed aside her top. The little breasts that jiggled on her bony chest looked so white to Tiya. She studied her friend's puffy areolas, the color of cotton candy, and the cherry nips that pointed upward, rigid and raw. Seconds later, she was completely naked. "I want to watch you suck him, Janie." The voice was familiar but Tiya found it hard to believe the words had come from her own mouth. "I want to see you make him come." Jane's eyes shot to Tiya's and her mouth dropped open. She seemed surprised to hear another voice. A sly smile gradually crossed her lips and she turned to face Brady. "Oh, I'll suck him for you." She ran her hands over his chest and pinched his nipples as he struggled to step out of the jeans surrounding his feet. "But he's gonna have to earn it if he wants to come." Tyia firmly gripped her husband's cock, not nearly able to wrap her fingers around the turgid meat. She pumped up and down the shaft, his delicate skin covering and uncovering the shiny head. He thrust his pelvis to her movements and twisted her aching nipple. Her breath grew short as she watched her best friend sink to her knees and assume the classic submissive position. "That's fine with me," Tiya replied, doing her best to sound glib. "Get to work now. Let me see your style." Jane playfully traced and nibbled the outline of the prominent ridge that angled upward beneath Brady's snug underwear. Her hand gripped the nylon covered bulge and moved it back and forth until a wide, purple bulb appeared above the wide elastic band at his waist. Brady steadied himself with a hand on her shoulder as she slowly rolled the stretchy material to the floor. His cock sprang free and swayed lewdly in front of her face. Tiya was no prude. She enjoyed watching porn with Patrick to enhance the mood in the bedroom. But watching this play out in front of her was almost more than she could take. Her heart nearly stopped when Jane turned and curled her index finger inward and patted the bed beside her. She looked at Patrick who moved his mouth, unable to produce more than a croak. He eagerly nodded his assent. "Wait." Patrick had found his voice and Tiya froze before she could take a step. "Get this off." He leaned forward and peeled her dress to the floor. Tellingly, she looked at Brady. He openly scanned her body, from her heaving, round breasts to the diaphanous triangle of fabric that revealed her dark pubic hair and the deep cleft of her pussy. She shuddered at the wave of goose bumps that swept her body and the instant pucker of her nipples. Her head was swimming, not knowing what to do. She sat on the bed, as the lovers positioned themselves in front of her. She was close enough to inhale Brady's warm, male scent. And his cock. God, it was right in front of her, erect and dripping with pre-cum, sticking in the air, way past his belly button. Her ovaries jumped to attention. A voice inside her head screamed at her to shove Jane aside and impale herself on his impressive shaft. "How's my girl?" Brady looked down at her, a smile playing on his lips. He cupped her breast and gently stroked her nipple with his thumb. She could feel the juices leaking from her pussy and smell the essence of her own sex. This is a dream, she thought. This can't be happening. "I need you to help me with this, Tiya." She snapped out of her reverie. Jane took the heavily veined cock in her hand, and looked at her expectantly. "Keep this thing out of my way." What?!!! The bottom dropped out of her stomach. Tiya's pulse throbbed in her head and her face smoldered as she carefully wrapped her brown fingers around the near-translucent skin of Brady's rippled column. This was a moment she'd never thought possible and now she was literally handed Brady's erection by his wife. It felt silky and rippled and impossibly hard all at the same time. She licked her lips and swallowed, fighting the impulse to lap it with her desperate tongue. She glanced at her husband. He had torn off his pants and shoes and his shirt lay open on his chest. His breathing seemed to labor as he slowly stroked his erect penis, his huge testicles pulled tightly in a dark lump. "Ohhhh... God," Brady barely uttered, beginning to tremble. Tiya held the warm erection against his belly and caressed the curve of his back and buttocks with her free hand. Jane closed her eyes and balanced his dangling, egg shaped testicles on her tongue. Brady groaned and widened his stance. With a wink to her friend, she luxuriously sucked the fat ovals that dangled in his delicate, hairless sac. She appeared to savor them like plump, fresh caught oysters sliding sensuously off their half shells into her waiting, watering mouth. Tiya couldn't help it. She hadn't even realized she was doing it. Her thumb slathered clear, slimy liquid over Brady's darkening head. She couldn't take her eyes off it. Brady rocked his hips, pushing his cock through her fingers. She wondered how far she could make him shoot. "Tiya." The voice sounded far away. "Tiya..." She blinked at Jane. "Now." Jane clasped her hands behind her back and opened her mouth wide. Holding Tiya's gaze, she slowly extended her tongue over her lower lips. Tiya felt like she was going to pee. She placed Brady's penis in his wife's mouth. Orange Moon Tiya was coming loudly next to them, Jane noting that she hadn't failed to scream the right name. She felt a pang of jealousy knowing that Brady was driving another woman to that level of pleasure. Knowing that her best friend's quivering cunt was gripping her husband's big cock at that very moment, coming apart with every deep stroke. As Patrick turned her over and lifted her hips, she thought about those things she did to drive her husband wild. Would Tiya find some new way to tap even deeper pools of lust? She wondered if things would ever be the same. Now she was folded in two with her ass in the air. Her neck and shoulders were on the mattress and her knees straddling her head. Patrick held her back against his chest with her cheeks spread wide. His head was bent, slowly, thoroughly lapping her asshole and teasing her pussy with his fingers. She was nearly insane with desire, completely in this man's control, helplessly exposed for his pleasure. Patrick lifted his eyes to watch his wife while he sucked Jane's knot. Tiya gripped fistfuls of sheets, her chest on the mattress and her bottom in the air. Brady was kneeling behind her with half his long dick in her ass, fingers knotted in her long curls. He pulled back slowly, moonlight glinting off his slimy erection, and then impaled her to the sound of her rising, other-worldly wail. Patrick nearly came all over Jane's back. It wasn't something they had ever done. Anal sex was something they watched on videos together but never talked about doing. Now here she was, skewered by her prize stud right in front of him. He watched in a state of disbelief, shocked by his own roiling desire, while Brady obscenely violated his wife again and again. He looked down at Jane's glistening, pink ring, ignoring her gasps and pleas, as he began to work his thumb inside. Oranges Marty reckoned Danver's as a bitch. Not in the way that term is usually applied, but in his own way the old guy was a bigger bitch than his son Eric. Sure, it had been Eric that put out for him, but Danver's showed a special kind of bitchiness. He hadn't accepted lightly an employee interfering with his kin and had thrown him out of a job. Marty should have known better of course. He was wise enough to foresee the risk he was taking the moment his boss's son appeared on the scene - a cute fella getting experience in daddy's business while on a break from college - but Marty was never one to let want go to waste, and the moment the horny teen started to roll his sweet young butt around the office he'd taken an interest. It hadn't required a lot of effort. Whatever it took to attract a guy Marty had in spades, and he couldn't resist making use of it. A little friendly banter by the water-cooler and a couple of near-the-knuckle remarks over a sandwich, and Eric was his. By the end of the first day the college boys trousers were drooped around his ankles and Marty was giving his beautiful fundament the benefit of seven inches of solid meat over his daddy's desk. His dick had been moving like the piston-rod in a steam engine and the juice was flowing when old Danver's burst in. That was the end of a nice well-paid job in accountancy for Marty, and although the old guy was too feeble to beat him up on the spot he threatened to have a couple of professional thugs with iron bars make a visit to break his bones. And Danver's meant what he said. He was that kind of a bitch. Marty had taken plenty of risks in the past and got clear away, but this time the cards hadn't fallen right for him and he decided he should get out of town. That's what anxiety does, it persuades a person to get out of uncomfortable situations fast. Leopards, big spiders, ugly guys coming across the river with spears, and vicious hoodlums wielding iron bars. All need be avoided if possible. Things looked dismal. Gone were his job and his Company car, and there was no redundancy payoff. He had no supportive friendships, and although he had a brother and sister in Ohio he'd insulted them years ago and they'd both disowned him. Luckily while he was panicking about what to do next he'd received a wire from his Aunt Matilda inviting him to take a trip south. Great-aunt Matilda had invited him to spend a vacation at Pitterpeetee Grove, which was the name of her home in Florida. He'd never met the woman and he didn't know an awful lot about her except for a fractured mixture of hearsay and myth that had circulated among relatives since he was a boy. He only knew she was the distant, wealthy end of the family who had never courted close contact with anyone in the past, so it was a surprise to be asked to spend time with her. He wondered, why an invite out of the blue right now? Then he recalled being told that she'd been a widow for years and all her own kids had died off, and since she was getting old herself maybe she was scanning round to find some other relative to lay her fortune on. The thought of receiving a present in the form of a large legacy of unearned income had him licking his lips, but the flight down country gave him a chance to mull a few things over and talk some sense to himself. It was vital to be acceptable. Old women could be hostile to folk who didn't fit with their own ideas of a respectable life, and any hint of an alternative sexual preference to the man-woman thing could be lethal to maintaining an old dears goodwill. That was reason enough to make a resolution, and he decided he wouldn't try to lay anyone while he was staying with his aunt. He was twenty-eight, handsome, in good shape and with a commendable prod, and it was a shame to deprive all the randy young bucks in the world of his assets for any length of time. But it would be unwise to act the loose goose while he was there, and it was probably wise to hold off with his inclinations for a while. In fact a few days of celibacy would probably do his soul good. He did the final stretch of the journey by rail, which was a mistake. Just a single track led to the dead-end town of Unction, south of Lake Okeechobee, and only three trains a day went in and out of the place. The day was long and irksome and there was nothing much to see when he arrived. The low roofed station building summed it all up. A concrete box surrounded by a clutter of palm trees that gave it the appearance of a desert outpost abandoned by the French Foreign Legion. He was the only passenger to climb down from the train when it ground to a halt, so there was no chance of going unobserved and he was greeted by an old, lean, white-haired negro called Abraham whom his aunt had sent to meet him. The crumpled black suit the fella wore looked as old as the ancient Ford convertible he was driving. "Aunt Matilda not here with you?" Marty asked. The negro shook his head as he loaded bags into the back of the car. "Nah, Missy Matilda don't travel these days, but you'll meet her as soon as we git to the house." They missed out the town, which Abraham said offered no more than two drug stores and three saloons, and they were soon driving down a long, straight dirt road. The landscape on each side was flat, with wide stretches of land bearing pine trees and scrub oak, then when the car steered off along a side road a delicious perfume filled the air and Abraham grinned when he noticed Marty breathing deep. "You can smell the oranges Mr Martin. Sweet ain't it? That honey-scent wafts on the breeze around here long before pickin' time." "I heard Aunt Matilda did some business with oranges." "She sure does. Got the biggest plantation here-a-bouts. It'll be her fruit yu sniffin'." Big plantation! mused Marty, quickly interpreting that into dollar bills. Big property of any kind meant big money. There was no sign of orange trees before they reached their destination, instead the scrub woodland thickened and they seemed to enter a jungle of oak trees hung with dripping moss that were so densely packed they shut out most of the daylight. Then at the end of a rising path appeared the front porch of the house called Pitterpeetee Grove. It was big but it wasn't the kind of old colonial mansion he'd imagined. It was built of wood which had been painted white and was lifted up on stone piers. Sitting bolt upright under an awning set above a long, wide verandah sat his Great-Aunt Matilda, a rangy woman, very old, with features that would be best described as embattled. He was expecting to meet someone old for sure, maybe wrapped in rugs and perhaps wearing carpet slippers. She was dressed head to foot in white, except for a flat wide-brimmed straw-coloured hat with a low crown. The way she wore her grey hair pinned back behind her head gave her a sort of 19th Century appearance and made her look even older than he'd expected, but although she was running to seed she was still elegant and she still transmitted the fiery, tangled sort of fecundity she'd always had a reputation for. A lace frilled sunshade lay unopened in her hand and she was gripping its handle like a cudgel. "So, you're Martin'. How long will you stay?" she asked at once. "I thought maybe a week." Marty replied. The old woman sniffed. "A week! That's preposterous. No one comes here just a week. I expect you to stay for a month at least. Abraham will show you to your room. Dinner's at seven. I'll see you again then." "Best wear a jacket an' tie at dinner, sur," the old retainer whispered as he led the way into the house, "Missy Matilda's a bit old fashioned an' fussy about that kind o' thing. She likes to keep up values." He chuckled. "Them's her words, not mine." The inside of the house was big and had an air of long-faded grandeur, with curtains of red damask hanging in ornate pleads around the windows. But the carpet inside the door looked grimed with decades of dust, and although the owner was doubtlessly wealthy, Marty reckoned no money had been spent on undating facilities for visitors since the time it was built. His room was small and the furniture all old wooden stuff; a bed, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a little wash stand that held a tin bowl and a white enamel jug. "There's a bathroom at the end o' the landin', sur," Abraham told him as he dropped bags on the end of the bed, "If'n yur needing anything in yer room, press the bell-button on the wall an' someone'll come-a-runnin'." Marty smiled whimsically. A bell-button! Well at least the house was wired for electricity. Halleluiah! The updating hadn't been entirely neglected. When he visited the bathroom to sluice himself off he discovered a working shower. While drying off a rush of vanity caused him to gaze in the wall mirror. The reflection of a strong bony face with a long mobile mouth pleased him, and the rest was good too. Slightly unruly hair brushed over a high forehead with a few strands falling almost into his right eye gave an impression of confidence, of personal self-assurance and perhaps a hint of arrogance. There was a man in that mirror with no regrets, completely in charge of his own destiny. On his way back to his room he noticed a door adjacent to his own, and out of sheer curiosity he opened it. Inside the curtains on the window were closed, and the gloom that met him as he entered at first prevented any appreciation of the size of the room, but as his eyes became accustomed to the poor light he saw it was three times the size of his own bedroom. A large four-poster bed draped with heavy blue curtains stood on a dais against one wall, and a rocking chair, upholstered in black buttoned leather with a white antimacassar stood near it. A triple mirrored kneehole dressing table with glass knobbed draws occupied the wall adjacent to the bed. "Can I help yu sur," Abraham's voiced droned at his back. He stood there, immovable, solid, staring, in no hurry. White hair, crinkly eyes that gave him a jovial look. Bit of a gut on him. He could see from his hands as much as anything that he was nearer seventy than sixty but he wore blue jeans. "Who's room is this?" "It's the master-bedroom. No one sleeps here, not anymore, not since Missy lost her man more than fifteen years ago. Now it's just a quite place where she likes to come an' sit sometimes." Marty stepped back through the door. "Like a goddamned Chapel of Remembrance, huh!" he commented without any compassion. Abraham closed the door quietly and offered a soft smile. "If'n you say so, sur." All too aware he was there to curry favour with his aunt he did as Abraham had suggested earlier and dressed up sweet and sharp for the evening meal. The ancient negro, now immaculate in a white coat and white cotton gloves, met him at the bottom of the stairs when he went down and guided him to the dining-room. There was plenty of other help scurrying about the house, but the old retainer seemed to slot into whatever role his aunt needed, be it chauffeur, butler or general handyman, and strangely enough the man appeared to relish being so useful, because he happily parked himself against a wall in the attitude of a major-domo. The dining room was ornate, heavy and detailed with a highly polished wooden table that could seat ten, but was only laid for three. Old fashioned lamps burned in wall brackets and beneath them his aunt occupied a high-backed chair at the head of the table which could have been a bishops throne. Her thin fingers were heavy with rings, her wrists with bracelets, throat and chest with necklaces, all gold and glinting in the lamplight. Marty would have laughed if he didn't have a need to be so careful with his manners. The dotty old girl was hanging onto the crumbling trappings of past glory. The whole set-up was a remnant of bygone days and long departed social status. His aunt was a picture of past times. Her hair was piled high on her head in an elaborate style that accentuated the regal tilt of her head and the high angle of her chin. Years ago, she must have been magnificent, he thought. Even now, at an indeterminable old age, the boned bulge of her bosom suggested a smothered sexuality. The slant of her eyes, her high brow and arched cheekbones were a reminder of a beauty that in its heyday had probably rocked fella's on their heels. "You'll find Unction dull," the woman said without smiling, "It's a town of orange-growers and cattlemen who talk about work all the time. I 'spect you'll find staying here at Pitterpeetee Grove pretty dull too." "Oh, I don't reckon that," Marty replied lightly. He was attempting to be ingratiating, but instead of accepting his politeness she turned a pair of gimlet eyes on him. It was difficult to believe she was eighty, maybe ninety years old. "Why do you say that. Do you know something I don't?" Marty squirmed uncomfortably. His aunt hadn't evolved with the times, she looked and still behaved like one of the feisty matriarchs who had dominated southern communities a century ago. "What I mean is, running the business you have here. It must be pretty hectic at times and hardly dull." "It ain't easy either." the woman scowled, even the ghost of youth was absent in her drawn features. "Frost in the orange-groves near bankrupts me every second year. Most of the other growers around here sold out to big corporations years back an' it's difficult competing on yer own agin them kind o' goddamn outlaws." After a moment she smiled indulgently. "It may take a little getting used to. But since you're staying here a while you'll have time to become accustomed to things. Then one day you'll wake up in the morning and wonder how you could ever have lived anywhere else." Her eyes turned to Abraham. "Where's Joseph?" she asked sharply. "Tell him we're waitin'." "Joseph is my grandson." she explained to Marty. "Your... grandson?" Marty stated the simple words in a complexity of tone combined with a look of slight astonishment. He'd never heard of a grandson; never knew one existed. Where did he stand in relation to himself? The door opened as she finished speaking and the late comer entered. A young man, slight in figure but graceful with a soft looking face and neatly trimmed hair the colour of honey. Slim and sort of spindly, solemn but not sullen. On seeing Marty he smiled and revealed beautiful white teeth. Marty looked him over. A striking addition to the table, he thought, reserving his judgement. He was a person who liked almost every young man he met, and it was polite to give this one a fair chance. "Joseph - you're late - five minutes late!" the old woman grumbled. The newcomer's grin faded. "I'm very sorry, Gran'ma. I didn't..." "This as happened before. You know how I detest unpunctuality. It disorganises the entire evenin'." "Yes, Gran'ma." he replied, sliding quickly into his seat. Stony-faced the old woman swung her arm across the table. "This here gennelman is yer Uncle Mart'n from Chicago. He's gonna be stayin' with us for a while." Joseph grinned, the scolding he'd received a moment before quite forgotten, white teeth flashing again as he nodded. He had extraordinary deep blue eyes and thick, soft lashes, remarkable enough in themselves, but what pleased Marty most was his lively nature. "Hi, Uncle Martin. Sorry I can't shake your hand, but I'm not allowed to stretch across the table." "You should've been on time for dinner." grumbled his grandmother. The remark of dissatisfaction ricocheted from the young man's ebullience. "Chicago! Gee, I ain't ever been north of Tallahassee. What's it like in Chicago Uncle Martin?" "Big cities are all much the same, Joseph. Busy, all tarmac and concrete, and it rains a lot in Chicago. You're better off here." "It's like I allus told you," the boy's grandmother sniped keenly. "There ain't nuthin' up north that you can't get better here." Joseph nodded. "Sure gran'ma, but a guy can't help being curious." Conversation ceased abruptly when the hostess rapped the table with a spoon, then pressed her hands together. It was the first time for years Marty had been pitched into formal religious ritual prior to eating, but he complied amiably as his aunt went through her routine. "Lord, we give thanks for you delivering us from want by gracin' our table with the fruits of the field and the flesh of brute beasts, as is Your will." She then picked up her knife and fork, signalling it was okay to start eating. Although she'd been grouchy with her grandson when he'd arrived late the annoyance in her expression hadn't lasted more than a minute or two, and it soon became apparent that she adored him. Marty couldn't fault her for that. His face was handsomely round, and his pale eyebrows framed a pair of large, well-set, stunning brown eyes. His mouth was broad and graced by rather sensuous pink lips, and he had a lively way about him which together with his good looks made him extremely likeable. But there was something else about him too. Something indefinable that he couldn't quite put his finger on. "Are you married, Uncle Martin?" Joseph asked. Aunt Matilda answered quicker than he could himself. "A'course he ain't married. That's why he's here alone." Joseph wasn't deflected. "You're a smart lookin' guy. Don't you want to get married?" "Maybe one day I will. I ain't thirty yet, so there's plenty of time." "What kind of work do you do?" "Accountancy. I'm - er - in-between jobs right now and looking for a new situation." "Accountin'! That's messin' with figures an' tottin' cash. Gran'ma uses accountants." The old woman chimed in rapidly. "Gran'ma's GOT accountants. Don't bug yer uncle about work. He's on vacation." Joseph chewed his food slowly, and Marty felt drawn to watching his delicate face. He was attractive young man, but his effeminate features didn't do justice to adulthood. His looks were too sweet to be hunky and when he gazed across the table it struck Marty that he was pure man-meat. "And you?" asked Marty. "What?" "Are you helping out your granma' running the business here or are you waiting for college, Joseph?" Marty asked by way of conversation. "Joseph ain't no more than eighteen, an' he ain't finished with his education yet." rasped the woman before any other response could arrive. "Oh, I see." he looked at her grandson again. "You must be in a freshman year someplace. Is college out or are you just taking a break?" Joseph grinned awkwardly. "A break, more or less. I need a break." "But are you are in college?" Matilda looked almost ferocious. "I pulled him out o' that dump he was going to, it weren't doin' him any good. I'm lookin' around for some place better. I had two daughters and a boy, and I've survived 'em all." She explained. "Joseph is my youngest girl's boy, but I look after him now." She signalled to pass the salt. "You must see everything we have here, Mart'n. Tomorrow Joseph will take you through the groves. It would help if you can ride. Such tours are easier when done on horseback." Across the table hazel brown eyes scrutinised him from under the waft of their long dark lashes and Joseph's face beamed with enthusiasm. "Can you ride, Uncle Martin? Do they have horses in Chicago?" Marty responded with a smile. He was charming, bubbly, listening intently to what was said, and as far as he could tell not in the least bit intimidated by the old woman's fiery temperament. Something else too. He was good looking. Too good looking for a guy. He was beautiful. It was impossible that he didn't enjoy a tumble in the hay with some of the big-dicked local hicks. "Sure," he replied, "There's always places to ride horses if one don't mind paying. I've always enjoyed riding. In Chicago I spent a lot of my spare cash doing it." He risked a glib smile at his aunt then returned to the grandson. "I've even played some polo at times. I reckon Colonel Custer would have given me a place in the 7th Cavalry if he'd known about me." Oranges Across the table he intercepted a glance between the grandmother and grandson. There was a secret between them, but they were giving no hint as to want it may be. Marty didn't enjoy that kind of thing. He swung his head angrily and caught the eye of Abraham, who smiled at him wanly. When he turned back Joseph was holding his dessert spoon upright and licked it slowly, his broad, wet, pink tongue sliding delicately over the hard metal. Marty was a sucker for things like that. He felt the skin on the back of his neck begin to prickle as he observed the shiny pink lips wrap around the spoon. It was supremely erotic. Clearly Joseph knew he was attractive, but was he just laying on a tease? That mouth! Those dark, bright slightly sly inviting eyes! He was a succulent morsel to a dirty dog like himself. Joseph gave a radiant smile that that lingered and it shook Marty to the core. Beneath the table he slid his hand across the front of his trousers to push down the stir of an upthrust under his fly. 'Whoa Bowser!' he cautioned himself silently, 'This here tasty doggy-chew may be as gay as a dance-band, but it ain't for munchin'. As soon as the last plate had been cleared from the meal Aunt Matilda pinned Marty with her eyes. "You and I will play a few hands of cards." she told him without offering any option. Carefully, as if troubled by an aching back, she rose up to allow Abraham to pull away her chair, then lifting her head she straightened her shoulders and steadied herself with a hand on the table. As she passed the sideboard she reached for the brandy decanter with splendid aplomb and carried it through into the room adjacent. She enjoyed a few hands of poker in the evening she said, and just to make it interesting she preferred to play for real cash, which meant Marty ended the evening being light by fifty dollars. It was hardly a good result for an unemployed man, but the stakes were higher in the real game he was playing. If he could stay in flavour with the old girl he reasoned he could end up seriously rich. His aunt was fond of saying she possessed little of value, but nothing in her household suggested any severe economy. There was no want at all. The rooms were full of old, but valuable property, and on looking outside at the back he'd seen sheds all splendidly equipped with the most up to date gear for processing crops. There were three motor trucks to move stuff around, and he'd discovered there was an office with a manager and two clerks employed. In talking with Abraham it also transpired his aunt also owned orange-groves other than those grouped around the house. He liked the house and he liked its situation: a commanding site in the midst of two thousand acres of prime orange growing land. If the old lady floated off soon he wouldn't be averse to having a few hundred acres of it himself. Or the whole estate if it came as a present. *** The next morning Marty awoke early, but the sun was already blasting loud daylight and fierce heat through a set of brocade curtains. He was hot, and his first thought was that he needed a shower. Afterwards he paced up and down his room, arms clamped across his chest, frowning. He hoped that a new day would bring new thoughts and different enthusiasms and allow him to get on with the serious business of ingratiating himself with the old woman. But he couldn't get her grandson out of his head. Charged memories of Joseph sitting across the table from him bounced around in his head like a Ping-Pong ball. That young fella was a feast he wanted to consume, a treasure he wished to plunder. Oh how he wanted him. To feel his soft body surrender to his desires and subordinate to his will. It was only natural, he told himself while gazing into a wall mirror. He was still good looking and in his prime. He sucked in his stomach and puffed out his chest. Not bad. Not yet thirty and still in good shape. Not repulsive. Good jawline, nice teeth. He looked a little rugged, and young fella's went for rugged looks. And his dick was a real fine rammer when he had a bone on. Everyone admired his dick. He wore his favourite corduroys and a black jersey with a scarf of brightly coloured silk - did they call them bandanas this far south? - and he made sure he put on boots with good high heels that would hang on to a set of stirrups. Abraham supplied him with a broad rimmed wideawake that he put on tilted over one eye, thinking that gave him a raffish look that wouldn't seem out of character. All in all he looked better now than in a goddamned city suit, he reckoned. It had come as something of a relief to discover there was no other temptations than Joseph to his recent resolution of chastity. The house staff were mostly female, all nearly as old as the well worn Abraham and not in the ball park as far as he was concerned. The only hitch to staying straight and level for a while was the grandson with whom he was about to spend some time. Joseph was a shining beauty, and he knew his real test was going to be keeping his hands off him. Outside the morning air was clear and the sun had just lifted over the tree tops in a long slant of russet light. When he picked his way across the outside yard to the stables behind the house he found Joseph already saddling horses and he was able to assess him more readily than had been possible at the dining table the previous evening. He wore a flat-brimmed black wideawake with a chin strap like the one he wore himself, a chequered shirt and blue jeans that seemed to emphasis the slenderness of his form. He looked even slimmer than he had last night. He looked at him keenly. His torso was slender and a leather belt fastened tight accentuated his waist and hips. No bubble-butt, but an appealing swell to his backside all the same. He looked stunning in the morning light, skin so golden and svelte in his spotless shirt, the sweep of his neck from ear to slim shoulder hypnotised him. "Mornin' Joseph, you're lookin' quite the cowboy," he said. Joseph's eyebrows arched as he looked at him, and again Marty felt aware of his utter delicacy, of a loveliness as yet indefinable. He arched an eyebrow and a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth and his cheeks dimpled. "Hey, I know Grandma calls me Joseph, but I reckon that's kinds' uncool," he said. "Most other people around here call me Jojo. I like that better." "Jojo it is then." "Great. Say, can you give me a hand fixing the cinch on this saddle. It ain't movin' for me." Marty placed his hands on the young man's shoulders, feeling the warmth and firmness of flesh beneath the thin material of his shirt, then he leaned over him, broad chest pressing against his smaller back, the diminutive rump fitting perfectly into the curve of his lower abdomen. His hand pulled the cinch and locked the buckle easily, and then he felt Jojo's cool fingers slide on to the back of his hand. Cool fingers that provided a devilish sensation. The fingers seemed to linger a moment longer than an accidental touch should justify, and Marty's solemn resolution began to slip. His aunt's grandson had excited him in a way he didn't need at that time. His adrenaline began to bubble and he felt his cock lifting inside his pants. "You're soft and warm." he murmured as he dipped his mouth against the side of the succulent neck. That there was a delicate indefinable aroma about him, like a mixture of floral scented soap and new bought suede. He wanted to suck the side of that neck and sample its flavour, wanted to hear how the teenager squeaked when he gently nipped the tender skin between his teeth. Gee, when his hips pressed forward he realised just how fragile the barrier of his trousers were. Jojo stiffened as he turned his head. Their lips brushed and there was a momentary touch of tongues, and then he grinned ebulliently as he wriggled his narrow hips like a worm. "You mustn't misbehave!" he said softly. Marty drew a harsh draft of restraint and shuffled back to remind himself where he was and why he was there. Dammit! His halo had almost slipped off before they'd got out the stable door. The sweet thing had come near to making him by-pass the decision he'd made to stay chaste at Pitterpeetee. It was just plain good sense to stay as clean as a whistle while living with the woman he was hoping to be a benefactor, and messing about with her grandson was a certain way of ruining things. Luckily Jojo showed no sign of anger or distress. Mounting up they set off on a walk the horses appeared to be familiar with, and within a short while they were in a forest of trees festooned with fruit. They toured the orange groves leisurely, acres of them, row upon row of trees with bright metallic looking leaves spreading out for miles, each one almost geometrically spaced from its neighbour. "Geesh! exclaimed Marty. "I didn't reckon there could be so many orange trees in the entire world." Jojo smiled proudly. "Millions of people start their day drinkin' orange juice. Gran'ma just does her piece in keepin' 'em supplied. Say Martin, you ain't my real uncle are you? What I mean is, uncles are usually related to a fella's parents, and you aren't." "I'm related in a distant way to your grandmother, and I guess she finds it easier and more convenient to call me your uncle. I've no rub with that as long as you don't mind. Tell you what. Let's cut the uncle stuff altogether. I'm calling you Jojo, so you just call me Marty, huh!" Jojo beamed one of his irresistible smiles. "Sure thing, Marty." Later they circled about and visited vast orchards of grapefruit and tangerines, acres of them too, and the sight made Marty feel old Gremlin Greed stirring inside. He knew nothing about fruit growing and had no interest in farming, so if any land came his way by inheritance he'd certainly sell it off to a property developer, or one of those big fruit growing corporations his aunt detested so much. In any event he'd be likely to make a tidy piece of hard cash. The plantation was so extensive that the morning seemed to fly by, but all the time he couldn't prevent himself from secretly looking at his companion, his gaze a moth to a flame. Jojo had a carefree nature. He also had style and good looks. His lips parted, moist and red, and he was slim, not too tall, with nice hips. His sliver of a body took a fine seat in the saddle on the light grey mare. Marty couldn't help recalling that what had happened in the stables before they set out hadn't been outright rejection. His body had squirmed against him, and thinking about that made his cock swell as he dwelt on the sensuous flesh that must lay beneath his neat clothes. A flat stomach and slim hips, a narrow chest with pink nipples, and not least of all, the shapely curve of a fine ass. This young fella was a hot number, and out here in the countryside there was every chance that... No, he couldn't risk any raunchy moves with so much at stake. That would be ten miles beyond stupid. Messing around with him could lose him a generous no-effort fortune. Dammit! stop thinking about it, he berated himself silently. Think of something dark and cold instead. Think of coal mines. Jojo led the way along a narrow path through the pine trees and scrub oaks, on the rim of the orchards. "Do you like this place? Do you like living here," Marty asked. Joseph - Jojo - turned his head. "Like it? I love it. Gran'ma can be horrible to some people, but she's always been good to me. I get just about everything I want when I'm staying with her." "It's getting on towards lunchtime. Will she be expecting us back?" "Nope, I told her we'd be away a while, and I collected a couple of food bags from the kitchen before we left." Marty nodded, pleased in a strange way his companion had made such a decision. He may have had a tempting young body he couldn't touch, but he enjoyed the youthful banter he came out with, and now he knew he had him to himself for a while longer. He gazed up at the heavens. The sky was cloudless and almost Cerulean blue. "The weather's warm. The orange groves will make a nice setting for a picnic." The younger man scoffed at him cheekily. "Hah! You Yankee city slickers figure Florida to be all Miami sunshine, but we get hurricanes goin' though here reg'lar in summer, an' the cold seasons give us plenty of frost. Gran'ma reckons Pitterpeetee was hard-won in every way. Early settlers had trouble with the Crackers - that's folks descended from the Seminole tribes that lived here once. She says her own grandfather was murdered by 'em, an' I guess that's part of the reason she refuses to sell the land to anyone an' wants to keep it in the family." He suddenly kicked at his grey mares ribs and cantered ahead. "This way. Follow me Marty. I know a place better for picnicking than any other around here." They made their way out from the groves and covered a few miles of scrub country shimmering in the full blaze of late morning. Eventually they reached a fringe of dense woodland and hauled up at a spot Jojo seemed to know well. Apparently it was his secret dell, a bright green cleft between the trees where a narrow stream flashed between mossy stones and shallow banks of bracken before tunnelling into a swamp of saw-grass and mangrove roots. There they voted to swing out of their saddles and give the horses a breather. Giant butterflies flitted in the dark backdrop of the forest as they wadded through the deep bracken by the edge of the stream. Eventually they found a clear patch of ground cushioned by velvet-like grass where the warm midday sunshine had found a route between the green canopy overhead. Jojo dumped himself on the ground and began pulling at his boots. "The water's shallow hereabouts an' I'm for steppin' in to cool my feet." His eyes always sparkled with such merry optimism that any man would feel an urge of affectionate irritation. Marty went back to the horses to collect the saddlebags that held the food and get a couple of horse-blankets to spread on the ground. When he returned Jojo was already paddling ankle deep in the stream, and not content with throwing off his boots he'd also stripped off his jeans. Marty surveyed the partly undressed figure with lecherous interest. He was slightly built rather than skinny. With Marty skinny always conjured up a picture of bony limbs with lack of flesh, and that wasn't true of Jojo. He was impeccably well proportioned and his lightweight figure only served to emphasis his spry youthfulness. His legs were shapely and immaculate with an enticing butterscotch tan, and just a light fuzz of golden hair. Captivated, Marty watched the swell of his backside moving under the clinging, skimpy jockey shorts that were inadequately covered by the drape of his shirt. Even though the fella was untouchable in the present circumstances he couldn't help but groan a little in frustration. His spine had enough curve to give a truckload of sauciness to his pert ass cheeks. Quite suddenly Jojo gave out a yelp of distress and hobbled towards the bank. "Something bite you?" Marty asked with genuine concern. "No, I stepped on a stone an' twisted something in my leg. It feels sore." His lips curved into a winsome poor-little-me smile, brown eyes teasing from beneath long lashes as he sat down heavily on the bank and raised his foot for some attention. "Will you check things out for me?" He watched Marty's hand curl under his ankle, felt the pressure of his fingers, and he smiled. Swiftly he let his foot revolve away so he could lean forward and point, frowning, at his calf. "There, I think that's where it hurts." he said, leaning back again. Sunlight played on his glossy thighs and Marty was very conscious of the way his skimpy white briefs had wedged up into his crotch. He tried not to glance in that direction. It needed no imagination to define the outline of what lay inside. The material had become damp and the bulge of cock and balls was all too evident, but he was playing the game with studious concentration as he rubbed his hand along the muscle, ostensibly. feeling for tenderness. "Does that hurt?" "Just a little." "And this?" "Hardly at all." "No damage done then." He was knelt before him. Jojo might have been Cinderella and he Prince Charming, except this was no fairy tale, and while there was no impropriety in his ministrations his companion seemed to be enjoying the touch of his hands. Jojo stretched out a leg and pointed his bare toes. "Have you done this sort of thing before, Marty?" Marty nodded. "My mother suffered from rheumatism." "Your mother!" "Yes, but I've also had some experience with horses. Strained fetlocks and that kind of thing." "Are you comparing me with a horse?" "Certainly not," said Marty, "apart from which you don't have any swelling on the flexor tendon or clap on the back sinew." "You ARE comparing me with a horse." Marty laughed and stood up. "You'll live Jojo. You ain't got nothing that a hot bath won't cure." His companion levered himself up in front of him, now showing not the slightest bit of discomfort. "Gran'ma says your going to stay here for at least a month. If you stay at Pitterpeetee for four weeks you're gonna get mighty bored. There ain't no decent looking women this side of Unction, and a guy like you probably likes to have a girl on his arm all the time." Marty smiled cynically. "You're reckoning me as a teenager Jojo. When you get older you'll find out fella's often have to go for long spells without the company of dames." Jojo thought about that for a moment, "Uh, uh! 'Spect you're right. But I 'spect guys find other things to occupy their time." He then swivelled his shoulders back and forth in a way that seemed deliberately precocious. "You think I'm pretty, don't you?" Marty pursed his lips thoughtfully. "No, I don't think you pretty, I think you're damned perfect." Encouraged by the flattery Jojo unfastened the top button on the front of his shirt and spread the collar open, The hand lingered, moving up to stroke the very spot on the slender neck Marty had yearned to kiss earlier. As their eyes met, he noticed that he was looking at him in a curiously provocative way. His lips were slightly parted and the tip of his tongue played within the shadows. When Marty stood up, Jojo let his eyes roam up and down his body. He was taking the lead, and he was doing it with style. It was no charming whim or accident of interpretation. The fella was flirting. The young man was coming on to him! "Oh, oh! I know what you're doing." "What am I doing then?" Jojo asked, his eyes widening in a mockery of innocence. "You damn well know what. Back at the stables you said to not misbehave." "That was then and there. This is here and now. Do you like male company Marty? When there's no dames around do you like cuddlin' guys who aren't wearing many clothes? Do you like me? You're a big hunky guy, an' I notched-up a king-sized crush on you the moment I saw you. You could do anything you wished with me, you could use me like a girl and I wouldn't be able to stop you." With a low laugh the outrageous Jojo playfully leaned against him and bit his earlobe, and Marty felt his breath quicken. Marty felt like he was suddenly being pulled in all directions. Blood drummed in his ears. One moment he was lingering on a threshold, and the next he was being swept away by passion. Common-sense became ignored as his face swung down. Jojo's lips parted slightly and he felt the tip of a tongue touch his lips. He reciprocated instantly, his own tongue snaking out to outline the shape of the offered mouth before running along the smooth ridge of his teeth. Still revelling in the taste of the young mouth and he gently bit Jojo's lower lip. He wasn't sure how he ended up with the lad in his arms, or whether Jojo said anything before his flirting little pink mouth made contact with his own. But the time for talking had passed, now only touch and taste mattered. Oranges He gripped the waist in front of him and hauled the younger body against his own, smelt its freshness, felt its warmth, felt its pliancy as it moulded to him. There was no shy uncertainty or hanging back, Jojo wanted contact, wanted to be held in a man's arms. Without a word passing between them he wrapped his arms about his neck and threw himself into a kiss. Marty's tongue at once probed into his mouth and the boy instantly caressed it with his own. Tongues began swirling, wriggling and thrusting in a flurry of sexual excitement. As his hands skittered over Jojo's body and Marty marvelled at the sleek torso and chest in his embrace. It was just as lean and lithe as he had earlier imagined it to be. He pulled at the narrow waist, pressing against the yielding body to eliminate all space between them while his hands explored Jojo's youthful form and shamelessly pressed his hard thigh against his smooth flesh. With their mouths melded together he fumbled with the front of Jojo's shirt, slowly working at the row of buttons as the kiss went on and on. Contact was finally broken as he scooped him up in his arms, and with a tiny cry of surprise at his tightened grip Jojo nuzzled his face against his neck. Taking full advantage of his greater strength Marty reached around the back of him to squeeze his backside, and he felt it rotate in his grip, the skimpy pants the lad was wearing doing nothing to disguise the soft texture of the youthful anatomy they contained. Hot with passion now he didn't hold back. He daubed the young man's face with saliva and left a wet trail across his fevered lips before his face dipped and he slid his mouth across the smooth, bare chest, inhaling the delicious aroma of his new little love pup. Perky alert nipples brushed his cheek when he began licking Jojo's firm pectorals, licking all around before pressing onto them, mouthing each nipple in turn, teasing and tasting them and then taking them into his mouth and sucking the small pink teats. "Ooooohhhh!" Jojo moaned softly. "Oh yeah, suck my tits Marty, bite 'em a little bit, but don't do it hard." The man's hands burrowed inside the young man's shirt and stroked his sides, and Jojo's dainty hands fluttered as he gripped the waistband of his pants and quickly slipped them down to expose the rest of his sleek body. Gorgeous! A pair of handsome balls lolled in the wrinkled bag of his scrotum, and above them - a beautiful, unashamed erect cock. Marty's hands slid onto the tender skin of his inner thighs where he found the uncircumcised penis to be slightly curved, quite thick and with an impressive stand, already stiff with its foreskin rolled back to show a blushing pink tip. He held it in his hand and savoured the solid girth of its shaft before he began stroking it, watching the tip disappear and reappear as the soft fleshy foreskin melted against the shaft as he moved it up and down. JoJo returned every move, running his hands over his man-friends ribs and torso and feeling the body heat beneath the fabric of his shirt before dropping onto the front of his corduroys. "Wow! That's some night-stick in you're carrying in your pocket, Marty. I knew you'd have something good." Hands went straight in to unbuckle his belt and Marty heard the sharp intake of his own breath as they worked against the tight ridge of his abdomen. With a flick of his fingers and a wicked smile Jojo unhooked his trousers and unzipped them with tantalising leisure, casually brushing the back of his fingers against the hard length behind the corrugated fabric. In complete surrender to his base desires Marty allowed him to pull the waist loose so he could slip them over his hips, but his swollen cock was a throbbing tower by then and the tip of it snagged on his briefs, so in the end he eased them down himself. A delicious shiver ran the length of his spine as his pants went down and his fully hard cock sprang up, smooth and hard, a shaft of silky steel. Without the slightest hesitation Jojo took hold of it and began stroking, ringing it with his fingers and increasing the movements of his hand until Marty began to shake violently and felt compelled to grip the young man's hand tight around his slippery erection and hump into it. His companion looped his arms about his neck, and Marty's fingers tangled in Jojo's hair as their mouths meshed and melted together again. Slowly they dropped to their knees and keeled over sideways in the grass, heads twisting, locked in a deep and passionate kiss, jolts of electricity sizzling between them as cock nudged against cock. Pressing forward aggressively Marty slipped his tongue between his young lovers fevered lips, tongue-fucking his mouth while JoJo sucked the tongue like it was a penis. "Mmmm, ooooh!" Jojo's voice quivered like a fiddle-string as Marty reached out and rolled a pair of plump testicles in his hand. "Oooh, mmm!" he gasped again, legs pulled tight. He may have had the face of an angel, but his confidence and lack of hesitation gave the lie to his looks of innocence. There was clumsy fumbling. He'd done this kind of thing before, and he'd done it with men. Marty's excitement took him beyond reason. Between his own legs a length of hard meat was jerking and throbbing with anticipation of unspoken promises. Jojo's eyes began to glaze and he drew back while gazing at the man-cock in his hand, admiring its size and solidness and watching in fascination as his fingers wrinkled down the foreskin to reveal the smooth, bulbous head. Marty's erection was angled slightly off centre, big, very big, standing out from a bush of black hair. For a moment Jojo stared at the seminal ooze seeping from its tip. "Boy! Your prick's like a stick o' dynamite. I gotta do something with it before it explodes." With a burst of strength that was unexpected he rolled Marty onto his back and straggled his thighs as if he were mounting a horse, then grabbing Marty's erection with his slim fingers he tucked the tip of it between his buttocks. His eyes flickered momentarily as he pressed his body down, belly undulating, narrow hips screwing left and right as he slowly opened up and eased the head of Marty's dick through his outer sphincter. "Umph!" He grunted and bucked as his rubbery spinster contracted and clamped tight. Every muscle in his body seemed to flex as he lifted slightly and then settled again to sink down on two additional inches. Marty was stunned by the accessibility. His dick was in no way a small item and he could only assume Jojo had done some early morning lubrication on himself to help things along later. That meant all that what was happening wasn't in the heat of the moment. It was pre-planned. "Nnnngh!" The swooning partner sitting astride him struggled to get more and more cock into his narrow tunnel, and slowly, inch by inch Marty's cock sank right in. Jojo anal tract rippled down the length of his fat shaft - right down, until backside met balls. Pausing to let his bum get used to being stretched and occupied JoJo offered a smile. "Boy oh Boy! I didn't think I was gonna make it, yer big hunk. I didn't reckon was gonna be able to take it all." Marty groaned too as he felt anal muscles flutter then hold him tight, then Jojo raised Marty's hands and placed them on his hips before slowly, deliberately beginning to rock back and forth, riding up and down, bouncing to savour the full extent of penetration. Every few moments he would lift up so that Marty could feel the ring of his sphincter hovering under the rim of his dick, then he'd go down again, squeezing with his insides and rippling his stomach muscles, working everything in unison to generate pleasure. Marty made no protest. The way Jojo mixed the exuberance of youth with the delicacy and grace of a girl was beguiling. Every movement of his lithe form seemed done with canny awareness. The swing of his hips, the tilt of his head was posed, practised. Even now he still had the ability to amaze him. He was so casual about his homosexual actions. There was no hesitancy, no guilt, no self-doubt or remorse, he was utterly comfortable with the way he was. And experienced too, even skilled. Where had he acquired such knowledge and such confidence? He was moving nicely now, all the time retaining Marty's swollen man-meat and sliding up and down its entire length, his tightly clinging anus clutching and caressing the thickness of his cock and sliding with the ease of a kid glove up and down the length of his hardness. With little spasms of delight and sensuous grinding of his buttocks Jojo was milking his dick with shameless skill, milking it with his asshole. The man froze, muscles taut, eyes squeezed shut, and as his eyes rolled and he began to gasp. The younger man leaned forward and gasped with him. The initial discomfort had faded and his breath became shallow as he rasped in his throat. "You like this, don't you. You enjoy young-ass moving up and down your prodder, don't you?" He did like it. He liked the heat and the friction, and he loved shafting the sassy gay featherweight that had mounted on his dick. His rock-hard cock felt like a crowbar buried inside him, it was throbbing and tingling along its entire length, which made his balls draw up tight against his thick shaft. "You've really got some cargo to unload, ain't you?" Jojo remarked whilst still steadily bouncing up and down. And he had. Eventually his body demanded to be allowed to empty. Eyes rolling, helpless amid his own pleasure he surrendered to the convulsions that accompanied his climax. "Ughhh! Aaaaah, ooooh!" "Wow! Oh yeah, that's it" his partner enthused, "give it to me deep. Make me your girl." As his prick pumped strongly upwards Marty blindly, almost without being aware, swung his hand over to waggle the stiff dick sticking out from the front of his partner. The young man's stomach heaved and an expression of surprise blossomed on his face. Then he shook like a leaf as a trace of clear fluid leaked out from the straining tip. Within moments his solid organ throbbed tangibly and the man heard Jojo breathing quickly as it pulsated. Then he heard the him squawk, "Ooh, oooh, OOOOHH!" and he watched as with each exclamation a heavy shot of warm cream hosed from the bloated tip and slopped over his hand. Jojo remained motionless for a moment afterwards, just flashed his big brown eyes and smiling with contentment as his sated gland slowly retracted into its soft sheath. Afterwards they lay side by side on the horse blankets for a while, content in a warm, sunny never-land bordered by severely regimented acres of orange orchards on one side and the unrevealed mysteries of a mangrove swamp on the other. It was a world apart from the hustle of Chicago Marty had endured for so many years and he was enjoying a sweet way of life unknown to him. It was beautiful. The meandering little stream nearby was too fast running to harbour mosquitoes that would spoil things, and red-winged cardinals and flocks of ibis were flashing overhead. What could be more ideal? he thought languidly as he observed the contrast between Jojo's naked form and the more rugged hairiness of his own thighs. He was in a paradise where a delicious looking young man, like some houri in a drug-induced dream, was eager to satisfy his every gratuitous urge. "Do you seduce every fella' you take to the groves? Marty asked him. Jojo grinned. "Only the one's worth the trouble. It's unusual for a hunk like you not to be married, and it got me to thinking you preferred being with guys. I reckoned you to be gay, and I was right, wasn't I?" Marty declined to answer, but Jojo remained smiling. "It's okay. I'm glad. Things can get pretty dull around here. Gran'ma don't let me go into town alone, an' things can get pretty stale sometimes for a fella like me." "You seem pretty experienced." "I went to college in Tallahassee for a while. There were other frats like me there, all wantin' to try stuff. It got pretty wild some nights." "Listen, it's going to poison your gran'ma against me if she hears about what we've just done." "Don't worry Marty, I don't tell her about everything I do." "Speakin' of poison, I'm feelin' vulnerable wearing so few clothes. This place is pretty, but its wild too. There's probably snakes around." Jojo nodded. "Yep, there's plenty of coral's an' rattler's creepin' in the grass around here I guess, but I come here all the time an' I ain't been bothered by any yet." He served a wry glance at Marty's penis lolling between his legs, itself looking like a fat, olive-skinned viper. "The biggest risk to fella's around these parts comes from the spittin' cobra's guys carry in their breeches." They both chuckled, it was all too weird. What had he got into by coming to Florida? What kind of a family did he belong to? *** On his return to Pitterpeetee Marty found himself squarely cursing his own stupidity. How could he be such a numbskull? His aunt had brought him to there to make a judgement on him and discover if he was worthy of some inheritance - and within twenty-four hours of arriving he'd poked her beloved grandson in the ass. Alone in his room he took a couple of slugs of whisky. He carried a bottle in his luggage. A day out in the sun seemed to have produced grains of grit between his eyeballs and the surrounding sockets. He would have liked to flop out on his bed, but he knew he must wash himself. Down the hall he turned the knob of the shower to hot, dumped his clothes and manoeuvred himself into the jet of water, massaging shampoo into his scalp then turning slowly like a kebab to rinse himself. When he was dry he inserted his body into clean clothes, not the crazy cowboy outfit. Simple and uncomplicated, that had always been his motto. Then along comes Jojo and the world falls to pieces. Jojo was anything but uncomplicated. He was impulsive, carefree and as reliable as a new Swiss watch, but the ultimate temptation of him was putting at risk the best chance of getting rich quick the man from Chicago was ever likely to have. On the way back that day they had been careless to the point of lunacy, pausing in the groves to lustfully suck each others mouths whilst still on horseback. They'd indulged in hot, buttery tongue-kisses out in the open. It had been irresponsible, and just luck that no one had been around to see them. He had to stop allowing that kind of thing. He was pretty certain Jojo wouldn't mouth-off about what had happened earlier, but he couldn't be absolutely certain. He'd arrived back from their day out together glowing with the kind of over-all bloom people associate with a freshly fucked girls, and people in such moods can get careless about the things they say. In an effort to disperse his negative thoughts he went down for dinner much earlier than he needed. On the wall of an alcove in the hall hung a dusty old print of red Indians fighting with soldiers in a forest, the legend under it stated, 'Seminole Ambush on the Withlacoochee River, 1836.' There were no newspapers or magazines in the house and the only books he could find were a collection of ancient self-help manuals tucked on a shelf under the stairs. Jesus Christ! That cranky old bitch of a distant aunt hadn't brought a new book into the house for the past fifty years. He found himself reading through dull accounts on geology, obscure items about diseases in cattle, and the importance of sanitation in the homestead, dated 1910. There was also a copy of James Brown's treatise on the planting and management of trees, which long ago had been heavily annotated in pencil along the margins of every page. He stuffed it back onto the shelf. He was hot. He wanted to take his jacket off, but the old woman wouldn't approve of that during dinner. Hot though he was, there was a heavy cold weight in his stomach. He couldn't breathe properly. Something dark and chill had slithered down from his brain into his belly and stuck there, a cold, horror-laden lump. It felt like he'd swallowed a toad. Once again black ideas swirled through his mind like a flock of startled crows. Was being gay still an offence in this part of the country? He didn't know, but he'd heard that some of these southern States still hung on to strange old fashioned ideas. Now he not only had to contend with losing Aunt Matilda's goodwill, he had to worry about being dragged off to jail by some hard-nosed sheriff or whatever else stood for law enforcement in this part of the country. With a shiver he wondered if convicts still formed chain-gangs in Florida. Jojo appeared, dressed ready for dinner. Alpaca jacket and boot-lace tie, face scrubbed and smelling good with a great tumble of teased blond locks. He had all it took to be a man's best friend. Wishing for some reassurance Marty pushed his hands into his pockets. "Look, there's a problem about what we did earlier in the trees. I don't want you to mention anything about it while we're eating. Don't even smile at me across the table. I don't want what we did to be the cause of any unpleasantness with your gran'ma. Okay?" Jojo listened with unconcealed curiosity, then smiled and shrugged. "Sure, Marty. I don't want to make trouble for anyone." There, it was settled. Marty felt he could rest easier, put the event behind him and get back on track. But standing so close to Jojo he couldn't help his reactions. Another hot spot blossomed, tight pressure - one that quickly spread south. On an irrational impulse he slid a hand down to Jojo's crotch and felt the cock-shape in his trousers. His own cock stiffened. He pushed him against the wall, popped open some buttons and got in as far as the young man's shorts. "I want to fuck your face." At that moment Abraham's dulcet tones crooned from the end of the narrow hall. "Um, 'scuse me, but the food is ready, gennelmen." Matilda may not have been told of what had happened earlier, but dinner when it came was a stilted affair, made worse by the fact that he found it hard to look anyone in the eye. They started with crayfish and shrimps drenched with some kind of sauce, then moved on to a chicken and mushroom dish, but it could have been pizza or hamburger or a pot of chilli for all the taste he got out of it. His aunt seemed to eat quicker than she'd done the previous evening, and the reason for that came soon after the dessert had been cleared. "You may leave the table, Joseph. Go upstairs, I want to talk to yur Uncle Mart'n alone," said Aunt Matilda. Her eyes swung over to Abraham who was standing by the sideboard. "You go too. I want some privacy here." Marty's heart thumped. What was coming? he pondered as the others departed. What was so personal between himself and Aunt Matilda that she wanted the room cleared? He had a bad feeling about it, like he knew he was about to get the proverbial boot out the door. His aunt dipped a spoon into her coffee-cup and stirred slowly, an unnecessary action since she took coffee black and unsweetened. "You were a long time in the groves today. I hope you figured it worthwhile. Not everyone enjoys the company of my grandson." Marty smiled awkwardly. "Perhaps I shouldn't say this to you, it's not my business anyhow. I'm a guest here, and a stranger, but - I like Joseph." He tried to make his words light but there was a tiny catch in his voice that he couldn't disguise. "I'm glad you like Joseph, he rewards all the care I expend on him." the woman replied. Then she gave him a deeper look. "Just why did you come here, Mart'n?" "Why Aunt Matilda, I came because you invited me of course." The old woman's mouth curved cynically, and when she looked at him he felt she was taking sight down the barrel of a gun. "You didn't come outta politeness. You came because you saw a chance of gettin' a piece of an old lady's estate when she passed on. Ain't that more the truth?"