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Miss

By: Miyelo Ina



She stood alone at the rail, enjoying the solitude for the first time in her life. It was always the company of others that brought her security but at this moment, she knew the impending visit was the most dangerous act of her whole life.

The sky was the color of a lightly bruised peach, ranging through corals, reds and fading out above her to a deep purple. The sea before her blended seamlessly into the sky on the horizon, calm as far as she could see except for the narrow frothy fringe that caressed the sand.

She took a long, relaxing breath - the salt air a tingle in her nostrils. 

There was no place that brought her more peace than standing beside the ocean. As her eyes closed, she smiled vaguely, thinking that it was the most powerful natural force on the planet. The concept of power made her feel safe. Power outside of herself.

The breeze was light and almost chilly. The girl's hair was very long, cascading down her back and below her waist. The wind whirled it like liquid whips around her smooth face and pale bare arms.

She glanced again at the horizon where the sun had just disappeared and wondered how long it would be before he arrived. Her watch, along with her earrings and even her wedding band, were locked in the hotel room back up the beach. She'd dressed as he'd asked, wearing a long white sundress and nothing else. The wind off the water continually threatened to lift the skirt of it and expose her to the world, the cool air swirling between her legs kept that pleasant quiver active in the pit of her stomach.

Finally the sound of footsteps on the pavement behind her tugged her attention away from the sea. The urge to turn and assuage her curiosity fought inside her with the knowledge of how wrong this all was and also with the fear that he might not give her his approval. It had never made sense to her why she should care so much whether he did or not. Maybe it wasn't even him back there. Maybe if it was, he'd not like her and just walk on by.

She kept asking herself why she had come. It was wrong. She knew she would feel guilt as soon as it was over. She felt guilt for just being here now. It was too hard to say no anymore when her whole body betrayed her. Maybe the footsteps weren't his, maybe she would turn and run and not look back. But the footsteps slowed as they drew nearer, then stopped directly behind her.

She closed her eyes again and gripped the railing to steady herself. It seemed as though her knees would buckle and she'd fall to the pavement, trembling. His eyes burned into her flesh - she could feel them rove over her body from her head down to her feet. Her breath had already quickened and she was certain he could hear her heart pound over the hiss of the surf.

It was an eternity that she was held this way - so long that she felt she would burst if she didn't turn and confront him. Just before that point, she heard him move closer.

The unexpected pressure and warmth of strong hands on her hips made her gasp.

"Ssh," his voice soothed her, but the trembling did not subside. Strange how the very same voice could cause such anxiety and such peace at the same time.

He pressed her against his body and through the thin fabric of the dress, she felt how strong and solid he was, warm and safe. She sighed as her body relaxed against him. 

His hands moved to her arms. The fine blonde hairs stood up as more chills spread over her. It was as if each individual hair tried to reach out to him on its own.

He touched her in a way that implied he was more interested in what he was feeling than what she was. That vague callousness was comforting in a way - if he remained detached from her, maybe she could stay that way too.

She couldn't stifle the intake of breath when he brushed her hair to one side of her neck. The trembling grew in intensity when she felt his breath just below her ear.

"Relax, miss," he whispered as the heat of his lips met her skin.

A sound like the perfect mixture of terror and contentment came from low in her throat. She was melting and unable to save herself. She wanted to cry out, "Stop it! Let me go!" but she knew that even if he did, she was unable to walk away from him.

"Mmmmm," he murmured, "You are just as I imagined. Sweet to my eyes, sweet to my nostrils, sweet to my lips. But I imagine there is even sweeter tastes to be had?"

He asked the question, knowing that she was already so wet that it had dampened the top of her thighs. He caught the hot scent of her arousal and she felt him growing hard against her back.

"Is there anything you want to say?" he asked, circling her completely with his arms.

She looked down at the arms that held her - how strong, how sure he was of himself. Her sense of self was fading quickly, just as she knew it would. 

She couldn't think clearly, she couldn't even speak now - only feel. But the way she felt! It was as if all her nerves were directly exposed to him - there was no protection from him now, no more hiding. At this moment, there was only overwhelming pleasure, but just as she felt unprotected from him now, she felt exquisitely separate from the rest of the world.

Her head bowed and turned as if she was trying to shake herself from his spell, but her action only caused her cheek to brush against his arm, almost affectionately. She smelled his personal smell. Clean, slightly scented with soap, musky with pheromones. She felt faint and she'd never even seen his face.

"Walk for me, " he told her, pushing her a bit ahead of himself in the direction of the hotel. "Don't look back, miss."

Vaguely she wondered if he meant that literally or figuratively, so she naturally turned to look at him for confirmation.

Immediately her cheek met the firm resistance of his open palm. Not a slap but a gentle correction, forcing her to only look straight ahead. She began to fear that he meant for her not to see him at all.

She wanted to speak up now, to protest. She'd drawn so many lines and he'd crossed so effortlessly over each one. Her last line of defense had been to tell him she'd never meet him without seeing his picture first. And that had come after the line she'd drawn saying she'd never meet him at all. She said no to him often... but it never seemed to make any difference.

She hardly noticed the people in the lobby... she thought they must be staring at her... at how wide her eyes were... at how she gnawed her bottom lip nervously. What must they be thinking of her? Could they see her body through the sheer dress? Could they smell how moist her thighs had become?

At the door to her ... their ... room, he surprised her by pulling out his own card for the lock. Evidently he'd been there even before she'd arrived and showered.

He urged her purposely into the room and alarms went off in her head. Before when she'd come here to change, she'd not been afraid... she'd been excited, maybe a little nervous. But now real fear flooded her, clearing her mind just a little bit. Her main thought repeatedly was "What did I get myself into?" It would be no problem for him to erase any trace of her from the room... she'd straightened up and put her things away before going to meet him anyhow. The room was sterile.

She tried to turn again, but this time he held her shoulders forcefully.

"Please just let me look at you," she pleaded. "Please give me that."

He didn't answer with words but by holding a silk scarf in front of her, folded to a dark blindfold. He drew it slowly towards her face.

"No!" she cried and made a step forward to escape.

"Do not move," he told her, his voice very low, very serious.

That should have terrified her, kicked in her fight or flight response. However, she froze in place and felt her breath catch in her throat. The warm electric rush in her midsection and lower was not unpleasant at all.

Her vision was taken from her, heightening her other senses. She could hear him close the door and in that moment, she could've reached and removed the blindfold and leapt away from him. She felt unable to move though. She stood like a statue... trying to judge everything he was doing by her ears alone. 

It seemed that he was moving around her, and as she heard his footfalls, she felt his gaze on her shoulders, breaking her skin out in goosebumps as if he'd caressed her lightly with his fingertips.

"Please," she whimper-whispered.

"Hush," he told her, his voice warm and falling on her skin like silk. "No more words unless I ask you to speak. Is that understood, miss?"

She nodded quickly, fear painting her skin.

"Pull the straps of your dress down," he directed, his voice strangely close to her ear. She had not been aware of him moving closer to her.

Again, she bit her lip, not knowing whether she was more afraid to obey him or to disobey.

As if he expected nothing but her complete obedience, he said in a very calm, very even voice, "Don't make me tell you anything twice." She felt it was more of a clarification than a threat.

For the first time, she was actually glad for the blindfold. She didn't have to meet his gaze this way. She could try to convince herself that no one was there watching her... that she was hearing his voice across miles of phone lines... that she was safely alone. She was grateful to him.

She tugged the straps down hesitantly and pulled her arms free of them, holding the top of the dress up with one open hand pressed against her chest. 

She heard him move, shift position, breath deeper.

"Slowly, pull it down to your waist."

Her own breath came quicker now, almost as if panic held her, but she obeyed without question.

"Ah, yes," his voice low and dusky now. "Beautiful!" He stared at the exposed skin, his mouth watering to taste those nipples that were so pale they didn't even stand out against the surrounding skin. But he would control himself and not strike until the right moment. He watched the nipples grow hard, like two flesh-colored pebble and he saw the aureola crinkling responsively.

"Now push it the rest of the way down," he directed.

Inside herself she could feel a struggle. There was a part of her that didn't want to do it, of course. Unfortunately, the part of her that he touched was much larger and stronger. Feeling dizzy with her humiliation, she let the dress slide to the floor.

"Mmm, pet, you are wonderful," he breathed. She thought she heard true admiration in his voice but there would always be doubt until she could look into his eyes.

Had she been able to see, she would have found what she sought. His eyes were half-lidded with lust, examining every inch of the body he was being given. From the full, firm breasts, down the warm, flat stomach to the closely cropped light brown hair hiding the engorged lips down below, he was fully pleased with everything he saw.

"Remember how I told you that you would present yourself to me, miss." It was not a question.

Terror struck her now, burning embarrassment that took her breath away. She turned her head towards the sound of his voice and begged, "No, please not that. Please."

He didn't reply to her. She heard no sound at all except the pounding of her own heart. But the force of his disapproval - or more likely his supposed disapproval - hit her as hard as any fist. And inside, the part of her that wanted... no, needed ... to please him sent warnings through her. It drew all her thoughts down into tight focus, all centered on what he wanted; what he expected.

"Under what circumstances did I tell you that you were most beautiful, pet?" he asked, his tone letting her know she was to answer.

"When I obey you," she whispered.

"Yes, miss," he answered, giving her confirmation and permission to proceed.

She knew this scene by heart. He'd described it to her, planted the image in her head long ago... an image she had always feared. It was a highly symbolic gesture meant to bring her into the state of mind they both desired. 

Walking away was impossible for her. There were too many ghosts from her past surrounding her now, making her unable to do anything except what his will commanded. She was beyond knowing why... beyond caring why.

She leaned back slightly, pushing her hips forward. She could feel him in front of her now and hear the sound of his clothing as he moved. 

Very reluctantly, she reached down. Using her first two fingers of each hand, she touched the swollen lips there and began to pull them apart very gently. A half-moan, half-whimper escaped her throat and the blood rushed to all the surfaces of her skin. An all-over body blush was the outward sign of the shame she felt as she opened herself in the most private and intimate way she could. It was a way of inviting him into this intimacy with her, of showing him there was no part of her that she would hold back from him and that she trusted him not to reject her on this deepest level. Her head was bowed naturally and tiny tears of her humiliation wet the scarf.

There was again no sound from him. If only she could see his eyes! But the continuing fear and uncertainty worked like an aphrodisiac for her. Her fingers were already wet and she could feel more coming. Her thighs trembled as she held this pose for him.

There was more sound of movement, and now his body was close to hers, his rough jeans against her leg, his shirt against her stomach and his fist grabbing a handful of her hair. This jarred her enough that she jerked her arms up in self-defense, pushing against his arm without conscious thought. When she realized he wasn't hurting her, she was ashamed of her reaction and she let her hands drop immediately.

"That's better," he whispered. With his other hand, he reached and smoothed the lines of panic that were suddenly etched in her forehead.

"You are making me proud, miss," his breath against her cheek, "But now you must tell me what it is you want."

His words echoed in her head, but they didn't make sense. What did she want? Did she want anything at all?

"To please you?" she asked uncertainly.

"You have pleased me," he told her softly, "I adore you, miss, just as I told you I would. Now I want to know..." she felt a hand brush her thigh, "...what..." it moved over the closely-trimmed hair, "...you..." she shivered as it caressed her stomach, "...want..."

His touches made her breath quicker, made the wetness into a flood. He touched lightly, tickling, non-invasive. Her hips pressed forward, needing to feel more. She moaned as he teased her.

"Tell me, miss. Tell me what you want to feel."

Her breasts rose towards him as she inhaled sharply. She wanted these touches to continue forever.

"Let go, miss. Tell me what you want from me."

Why couldn't she just tell him? She felt like she was going to explode!

"My little slave, tell me now!" he demanded.

She shook her head, consternation now wrinkling her forehead. "I'm not a slave," she protested.

His touches grew more insistent, but they never touched the spot she wanted most. His fingers danced all around - causing electric sparkles in her brain.

"Tell me what you need!" he growled with intensity.

"Your touch," she managed to whisper.

He moved just a little closer to what she wanted to feel - stroking her outer labia and feeling the blood pulse behind the skin.

"Just my touch?" he asked mockingly. "Like this?" He reached and stroked her shoulder in a much less than romantic way.

"No!" she cried, arching her back, feeling the desire grow.

Before he spoke again, he turned her and she felt herself falling. She screamed - her senses already overloaded with unknown sensations - but then she felt the soft bed beneath her. She didn't remember being so close to it.

"Tell me where then," he said, lying out beside her, his hands now roving over her whole body. He was so hard he could've driven railroad spikes but that was not his goal today. 

"Down..." she whispered, "Down there."

He reached lower and caressed her smooth tanned calf. "Down here?" he teased.

"No!" again she cried in frustration. Her body was so tense in it's need for release that every muscle quivered.

"Then tell me, my slave. Tell me!"

"I'm not..." she started to say, but wouldn't. It hurt to hold the words back.

"You want me to touch your pussy, don't you, slave?" He used the word emphatically, knowing how she hated it.

She nodded - almost perceptibly.

"Say it!"

"I want you to touch my pussy," the word was hardly audible, one she was embarrassed to say.

He laid his open palm over the triangle between her legs. "Tell me what to do with it," he instructed. "Talk to me, slave."

"I'm not a slave!" she shouted, pushing her hips up to meet his hand.

He used his fingers to part her lips, she was so wet that his hand was covered. He teased her more, until she was thrashing and moaning over and over "Please... please!"

"Please what?" he whispered. 

"Please let me cum," she begged, only a very tiny part of her surprised to hear herself. "Please, I can't stand it!"

"Then tell me what you are," he said as he watched her face contort with her inner struggle.

"No," she only formed the word with her mouth - no sound escaped her lips.

He stopped the movement of his hand.

"No!" she screamed. "Please, please don't stop!"

"Tell me," he whispered, putting his mouth against her ear.

"I'm your..." she couldn't say the word.

"Tell me," he repeated, pulling his hand away. "Tell me why you can't get up and walk away from me. Tell me why you can't cum until I give you permission. Tell me why you are begging me." His whispers cut her like knives, the pain in her mind was so sweet.

"I'm your slave," she moaned, her breath convulsive.

He put his hand back and leaned close to her ear, his breath tickling her. "I can't hear you, miss."

"I'm your slave," she said again, just the tiniest bit louder.

His fingers opened her again and her breath came in gasps. She was so close to the edge that she could hardly hang on.

"Three times, miss. Tell me what you are three times."

"I'm your slave," she panted, then she began to repeat it - suddenly changing her tune so that it seemed not such an awful thing anymore. As she began to repeat it for the third time, it seemed as if she said it with joy - in full and complete surrender now.

As she said the final "slave", he touched the right side of her clit. It was just a slight, gentle touch, but it was enough to make her scream as her orgasm arrived and he cut off the scream by putting his mouth over hers, taking her pleasure as it left her body.

She came hard and long, he could feel the strong muscular contractions wracking her body and the tip of his cock grew with its own fluid. But again, that would wait. He'd gotten what he wanted from her for now. He had something she'd never given anyone before... he had her shame.

When the spasms eased, she lay completely limp for just a moment. Then there were sobs - not just tears, but waves of such profound release that the small sounds she made hardly seemed human.

He cradled her against him, she was so much like a rag doll now, but he only smiled. He knew this was her drug - this release, this floating, this peaceful oblivion. This was her addiction.

"I adore you my pet," he told her again while he smoothed back the hair and kissed her forehead. He knew that even if he had removed the blindfold now, she would never bother to open her eyes and see him, but he left it alone.

She was drifting somewhere off in a world where there was not thought, no feeling, no nothing and he knew that the sound of his voice was her only anchor to this reality. He knew her fear of being lost in this and the way that she clung to him now showed him the ultimate trust. He would let her float there for awhile and then bring her slowly back down. He talked to her, just speaking meaningless words of reassurance until he told her it was time to come back..


Miss



"You can sleep now, miss," he instructed. "Peaceful sleep, no dreams, and when you wake, you'll be back in the real world."

He spoke for a bit longer, his voice mesmerizing her, using her real name now, until he felt her sleep, knowing when she passed into slumber by the sound of her breath.

He could barely wait until the next time - there were so many things he had planned for them. She belonged to him now, there was no question.

She awoke to the sound of a very quiet beeping and found herself was alone in the bed. She did not feel his presence in the room. It was very dark except for one small lamp burning in the corner. She was tucked warmly under the covers and she felt wonderfully numb. But why had he gone? Was he angry with her? Had she disappointed him?

She sat up slowly, then saw a small dark object on the other pillow. It was a credit card-sized text pager with a flashing message. She had to turn it towards the light to read the single word. 

"Soon."

She knew that when he called her, she would not hesitate to come to him.



Miss



In the spring of my senior year of high school, another student and I were selected to attend a leadership weekend sponsored by a national organization. 

"We're both eighteen," I argued when I learned our history teacher was to go along as chaperone, throwing in a few gratuitous references to being able to vote, own a gun, jump off a cliff. [OK, I didn't put that last one in there, just wanted to see if anyone was paying attention. I thought it though...perhaps in my valiant, quixotic attempt to debate the impossible, I'd gotten my metaphors mixed.]

"But it's a LEADERSHIP conference!" I moaned when the administrator, Miss Anastasia, remained unmoved by my rhetoric. "What kind of leader needs a chaperone?" What I wanted to say was, "What fucking kind of fucking leader fucking needs a fucking chaperone?" You know, using adjectives to emphasize and clarify a point.

"It's not just school policy," Miss Anastasia explained, "the conference won't accept unescorted students. Do you understand, Blaine?"

I was looking out her window, sighing inappropriately loudly with a degree of petulance only teenagers and toddlers can muster.

"Look at me, Blaine!" Miss Anastasia said sharply. Then, when my eyes were focused on her incredibly beautiful countenance (part of the reason for looking out the window was self defense because staring at that face, with those ruby-red, pouty lips, for too long would give me a hard-on), she asked again if I understood.

"Yes, Miss," I answered. I don't think it was a school rule or anything that students call her that, but we all did. Never "Miss Anastasia" just "Miss" even when we were talking among ourselves. "Did you see how hot Miss looks today? Christ I'd like to tap that!"

Our history teacher cum chaperone, Mrs. Stevens had graying hair and was overweight. Her bulk, though, was very well distributed as she had huge titties, a trim waistline for her size, rounded hips, and a nice plump ass. She often wore tight sweaters with plunging necklines. I'm sure most of the boys in her class had fantasies about her. I know I did.

Even her legs were shapely and she wore her skirts short to show them off. Some times she would move her chair from behind her desk, sit at the front of the class and read to us. She would cross and uncross her legs and we would all try to catch a glimpse of her panties but she was always so careful. It was like she was taunting us, saying, I may be a chubby fifty-year-old but there's not one of you who wouldn't fuck me if he had the chance.

I had a reputation among the students for having a big cock. In private, some of the girls would tease me about it and ask me for it. Some of them got their wishes. Emily, the other student on the weekend with me, hadn't been one of those girls. We weren't very close outside class and I figured she just wasn't interested.

Saturday night, however, I got a call from Emily in my hotel room. She asked me to come over to her room. I told her we weren't allowed to do that. She said no one would know (we had assigned roommates from other schools but Emily's hadn't shown up). I told her no, that it was too risky.

She said please, that she had a question about the reading assignment we'd been given. When a pretty girl says please to me, I have a very difficult time refusing. I checked the hallway and snuck down to her room.

As soon as I was inside, she said, "Show it to me."

"The assignment?" I asked, confused. How would I know what part of the assignment she wanted help with?

"No, she said, 'IT'" I just stood there. I had no idea what she was talking about, that's how dumb I was. "Your dick," she said smiling. "I want to see what everyone is talking about. Ever since I found out we were going on this trip together I've been dying to see what it looks like."

I told her no, that we'd be sent home if we were caught. She began making sounds like a chicken, trying to taunt me into showing her. She also said she wouldn't be sent home because who would believe an innocent girl like her had asked for such a nasty thing.

She went behind me and began rubbing her body against me. She put her hands around my waist and pulled me back into her. She started rubbing my chest and told me she'd suck it if I took it out.

I spun around and started tickling her to make her let me go. I wanted what she promised but was too scared of getting caught. I had just thrown Emily on the bed and was continuing to tickle her when Mrs. Stevens walked in.

I immediately jumped up and Emily pushed her skirt down her legs where it had ridden up very high.

"It's Blaine, Mrs. Stevens," Emily accused immediately.

"Blaine what?" she asked.

"H-he," Emily stammered, "he's got something in his pants and he's threatening me with it."

I could see that Emily was almost ready to burst out laughing but Mrs. Stevens took her statement at face value.

"What is it Blaine?" Mrs. Stevens asked, immediately taking Emily's side.

"There's nothing," I said.

"Why would she make up such a thing?"

"I have no idea," I lied, not wanting to tell the truth. Emily stuck her tongue out at me when Mrs. Stevens wasn't looking.

"Show me, Blaine," the teacher I'd fantasized about ordered.

"Show you what?"

"Show me what Emily is talking about." I didn't know what to do so I just stood there. "Show me right now or I'll send you home tonight! I doubt your parents will be pleased with you being caught alone in a young lady's room."

I got a little pissed off because I'd done nothing but try to be good and now I was the one to be punished. So I did it. I unzipped my pants and took out my cock. I let it hang in front of my fly.

Mrs. Steven's jaw dropped. She wasn't breathing and Emily was nearly hyperventilating as they stared at my long, fat, flaccid, black cock. After about a minute, I became concerned with Mrs. Stevens' lack of respiration.

"Would you like to touch it, ma'am?" I asked, taking a step towards Mrs. Stevens, finally breaking her hypnosis. If student sex was what this chubby old teacher wanted, I had her covered. Instantaneously, she regained her composure and got very stern.

"Put that away young man and go back to your room! And don't ever speak of this to anyone," she scolded.

I quickly put it away and practically ran from the room, so glad to be out of trouble. I barely got back to my room when Emily called. She was giggling and laughing and told me Mrs. Stevens was gone. She wanted me to sneak back into her room.

"But your cock is so beautiful," she said sweetly when I refused. "I promise I'll be so nice to it. You won't be sorry."

"I already am," I told her and hung up.

No sooner had I hung up on Emily than the phone rang again.

"Listen," I said almost shouting, "I told you I'm not coming back to your room! Leave me the fuck al..."

"BLAINE!" came the sharp retort of a female voice but not Emily's. It wasn't Mrs. Stevens' either. I immediately fell silent.

"This is Miss Anastasia," the voice continued. She'd lowered the volume but increased the degree of firmness.

"Yes, Miss," I uttered when she paused, awaiting confirmation from me.

"Mrs. Stevens just reported what you did to Emily and her. You need to report to me.

Miss Anastasia is a member of the school administration although she is far too young for her position. She is in her late twenties and, by far, the most beautiful member of the staff.

"Yes, Miss," I answered dejectedly. I wasn't out of the woods yet. "Should I report to your office on Monday?" 

Even though I was upset that there would be punishment yet to come, just the thought of sitting alone with Miss Anastasia, excited me. I had already begun formulating the fantasy that I would use to jerk off when I got under the covers that night.

"Not Monday, now," she ordered in a calm, steady, but demanding voice.

"I-I..." I stuttered, not comprehending. Was I being ordered home? At this hour? How would I get there? Was I to go to her house? On Saturday night? I didn't even know where she lived.

"I'm at the hotel, Blaine," Miss Anastasia said more soothingly, sensing my panic. "I'm a member of the committee that sponsors this conference. "Now, please report to room 722." She'd said "please" but her words were a command.

Not only was she staying at the hotel, but we were on the same floor! I walked down the hall and knocked on her door. When she let me in, I was stunned. I had never seen her, never seen any teacher dressed like that. 

She wore a red sequined gown. On her feet were red, patent leather platform shoes consisting of several strips of shiny red leather that wrapped the arch of her foot, her heels, and her ankles on top and clear plastic platforms with seven-inch heels on the bottom. Her toenails were painted the same color red as the shoes and the dress, and matched her fingernails and lipstick. In those shoes, she was even taller than I.

I noticed when she turned to re-enter her room the dress had almost no back, plunging nearly to the swell of her ass. All I saw was the clear, milky skin that looked to be the very definition of softness. I watched the swish of her hips and heard the gentle rustle of one nylon encased thigh rubbing against its twin as she led me into her room.

Her lovely blonde hair flowed over her shoulders and down her back. Stopping in the middle of the room, she turned and faced me. Despite a reputation for firmness with the students, Miss Anastasia has the face of an angel.

Her makeup was done perfectly, the blush on her cheeks, the shadow above the eye, the gooey red slickness on those pouting lips. I had to look quickly away from her mouth as I felt a jolt in my loins and my cock began to harden. I must be very careful about avoiding erections because of my size.

I wanted to look at the floor in my embarrassment about why I stood where I did. Instead, I found my gaze drawn to her eyes, bluish, greenish, grayish, steeled by resolve, those bright eyes began drawing me into them. I couldn't so much as blink.

"You're beautiful," I murmured though my voice was so dry it cracked.

"We're not on a date, Blaine!" she snapped. Then, as if softening to acknowledge the compliment said, "I've just come from a committee dinner. Now tell me what happened," 

Miss Anastasia's order was issued with a calmness of someone asking me to describe how the milk had been spilt rather than what I was doing taking my dick out in front of my teacher and a fellow student.

"Emily and I were just kidding around a little," I began. My first thought was to tell a lie to mitigate any guilt.

"I'm not interested in whatever bullshit you think you can spin to get yourself out of this, young man," she scolded. "I want the truth. Why were you in Emily's room?" I was shocked to hear a school official use such coarse language.

"She was having trouble with the assignment and asked me to come help her," I answered giving a half-truth.

"That's a lie," Miss Anastasia accused, "or at the very least, not the whole truth. When Mrs. Stevens entered, you had Emily on the bed. Her skirt was up about her waist. Mrs. Stevens could see her panties. That doesn't sound like collaborating on an assignment to me. What were you doing?"

"I was tickling her," I answered honestly.

"Why?"

"She had deceived me," I answered without thinking about how I might explain what I meant by that.

"Deceived you how?" Miss Anastasia asked.

"She hadn't really wanted to study," I answered feeling suddenly trapped.

"What had she wanted?"

My eyes went to the floor. I stood silently. "S-she wanted..." my voice drifted off, not completing my thought.

"The truth, Blaine! And I mean it!"

"She wanted me to show her my penis," I answered dejectedly. I felt my face flush hot. I was blushing but it wasn't noticeable under my black skin.

"Why did Emily want to see your cock?" Miss Anastasia asked, again using language I'd never thought appropriate for use with a vice-principal.

"She said she heard it was big," I answered. Suddenly I felt a burden lifted from my shoulders. The truth was out. I didn't need to lie anymore.

"Is it?" Miss Anastasia asked. "Is your cock big?"

"Well, I don't exactly know," reverting back to hedging my answers again. Then determined not to do that, I continued. "Some people say it is."

"Big or very big?" she asked. The entire grilling was being conducted with her steely gaze on me.

"Very, very big," I answered, feeling an unwanted smile creep across my lips.

"Do you think this is funny, young man?"

"No, Miss."

"Your impudence is causing me to doubt your veracity."

"No, Miss, it's true. And that's why Emily wanted me to come to her room."

"First you fabricate, then you become cheeky, I feel I can no longer take you at your word, Blaine. You will have to prove it to me. Strip off those clothes."

I started to protest but quickly realized it would be useless. Tugging down my zipper, I was prepared to expose myself to a third female in the space of half an hour.

"No, Blaine," Miss Anastasia corrected, "I don't want you to just pull out your dick like you did for Mrs. Stevens and Emily. I want you to strip naked.

"But..." I started to say before my protest was silenced by a sharp look from Miss Anastasia.

I began unbuttoning my shirt, pulling the tails out of my slacks, unfastening the cuffs, and sliding it down my arms.

Seeing the confusion in my eyes over where I should put the garment, she said, "On the floor," and pointed to an out-of-the-way place next to the nightstand.

I lay my shirt down carefully, pulled my undershirt over my head and set it on top my shirt. I kicked off my shoes and placed them next to the shirt. As I was removing my socks, I realized that, despite my nervousness, I was getting excited undressing for this gorgeous woman.

As I unbuckled my belt, Miss Anastasia walked around behind me, scrutinizing my body. When she got back to the front, I pushed both my pants and boxer shorts down at once. She wanted to see it, so there it was. I thought I saw a glimmer of desire in her hard eyes as I kicked my pants toward the rest of my clothes.

Miss Anastasia began circling me again. She let a sharp fingernail trail down my chest to my abdominal muscles. She said I must do a lot of sit-ups. At least two hundred a day I told her. She pinched the taut skin where love handles sprout but found nothing but firm musculature.

Continuing, she moved her hand over my forearm and hip. When she was behind me again, I felt her cup my buttock and squeeze. Her nails dug painfully into my flesh but amazingly it aroused more than that it hurt. Up my back and over my shoulder she traced, and she was back in front of me again.

"Is that what Emily was so interested in?" Miss Anastasia asked, looking squarely at my semi-hard, black cock.

"Yes, Miss," I confirmed.

"Stroke it," she commanded. "Get it hard so Miss can see exactly what that poor girl was threatened with." I took my cock in my hand and began masturbating.

"Is that how you jerk off?" she asked.

"Yes, Miss, sometimes," I answered.

"What else do you do?" she asked.

"Usually, I use both hands."

"Show me."

I grabbed my dick with both hands and started jerking it. It immediately got completely hard.

"You see, Miss?" I said, trying to confirm my earlier veracity "You see how much still sticks out even when I have both hands on it. It is very, very big, isn't it?"

"Yes, Blaine," Miss Anastasia conceded, "your cock is indeed quite large."

Between the stroking and having such a beautiful older woman say something nice about my dick, I was rapidly approaching orgasm.

"Miss!" I said urgently, "if I don't stop soon, I'm gonna cu..."

Miss Anastasia slapped my hands harshly away from my phallus, scraping a fingernail sharply across the cock head in the process. I took my hands away immediately, leaving my cock to stick straight out and throb unattended. A pearl of precum glistened at the slit.

"Young boys like you are always behaving inappropriately, Blaine," Miss Anastasia snapped, spoiling my mood. "You need to learn there's more to life than just those always demanding erections of yours. Now, down on your knees so we can drive some of this sass out of you."

I had no idea sass what she was talking about but I quickly got on my knees. My eyes popped open and my cock hurriedly re-engorged as I watched Miss Anastasia slowly slide her dress up her thighs. Her legs were that same lovely shade as the skin of her back I'd admired earlier. It was like I was looking at the surface of the liquid in a cream pitcher.

Her dress went higher and higher until a triangular patch of shiny red the same color as the dress, it even had matching sequins, appeared as she exposed her panties to me. How this was supposed to knock the sass out of me I wasn't certain. My cock bobbed wildly as I ogled that beautiful red Vee before me. I felt a string a precum dangle then drop to the carpet.

"Lick it," Miss Anastasia ordered, pulling those red panties to the side.

I pressed my face forward inhaling a wonderfully musky aroma and kissed her bare mound. Shifting her feet to achieve a wider stance, I was allowed to wriggle my tongue partway down between her juicy labia, slipping it across her clitoris as I went. I felt a shudder go through her body. I continued jabbing my tongue against the juncture of her thighs but was having a little difficulty getting it in as far as she wanted.

"Wait," Miss said with some urgency, pushing my face away from her crotch. "Take these off," she said hooking a thumb into her panties. I slid them slowly down her silky legs enjoying the feel of her nylon covered skin.

When the red thong reached the floor, she quickly kicked it aside and hooked a leg over my shoulder and behind my back. With her new leverage, she pulled my face back against her pussy. I began lapping frantically while my desperate dick swayed from side to side untouched and unsatisfied.

I reached between her legs, bringing my hands up to her ass in an effort to pull myself even closer to her now sloppy hole. Miss Anastasia let her dress drop down over the back of my head and I knelt, partly concealed with my head up her dress. She grabbed that portion of the dress containing my head with both hands, holding it firmly in place. It must have appeared as if she were trying to shove a bowling ball into her cunt.

Suddenly, she shuddered violently, and cried out. "Oh shit!" she screamed, OH FUCK!!! Eat that pussy you big cocked bastard!! Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, YOU'RE MAKING ME CUUUUUMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I licked and tongued as fiercely as I could, enjoying her climax almost as much as I would my own. I wanted desperately to reach down and finish what I'd started before Miss slapped my hands away but I didn't dare. I worried what Miss would say. Besides, maybe she'd want me to do something else, something of mutual pleasure and I would have wasted myself.

Breathing raggedly, Miss disentangled herself and her dress from me and slumped back on the bed. She lay recuperating with her eyes closed for perhaps ten minutes. I remained kneeling on the floor where I'd most recently been ordered, my dick sore and throbbing. My balls were beginning to ache.

Sighing deeply and opening her eyes, Miss commanded, "Bring me your cock."

I stood up and walked to the bed. Miss Anastasia rolled onto her side and took my cock in her hand. "I can't take all of this," she explained, stroking it, "but I want you to put as much in as will fit. Just don't slam into my cervix. Do you understand?"

I nodded and got onto the bed as Miss again lifted her dress over her hips. I placed my arms outside her shoulders and pressed the head of my cock against her slit. She was soaking wet from my saliva and her juices. The head and several inches of shaft slid easily in. When she tensed, I stopped and waited for her to adjust to my size.




Miss



I tried to kiss her but Miss slapped my face and pushed it away.

"Don't ever kiss me!" she ordered, spitting on my skin because my lips had brushed hers, "and especially never get your lips anywhere near mine with cunt juice on them! Now give me more of that lovely cock of yours."

She'd called my cock lovely! She really did like it, wanted it. I slid another four inches into her. The walls of her cunt were stretched so thin I could feel the her pussy muscles contracting and relaxing as she sought to accommodate me.

"Almost full," she gasped as I pushed in another inch. "One more inch." Slowly, I pushed forward until I felt her fingernails dig into my triceps.

"Oh god, Blaine, I've never been this full! You've stretched me so far it feels like I might rip apart. I don't think I'll ever be satisfied with a normal dick again. Stroke it, dear boy, stroke it long and deep."

I pulled almost all the way out then entered again, slowly, all the way to the depth she'd fixed. Again I pulled out and again I slid in. Miss was mumbling incomprehensibly. I had to stop frequently because I was so close to cumming. After about the eighth stroke I halted, waiting for my excitement to abate but it was difficult. Her pussy was contracting around my cock, pulling at it even as I tried to remain motionless. Her pussy was sucking at me like a hungry mouth. I couldn't hold back.

"I'm sorry, Miss," I grunted as the cum began pouring out the end of my cock. I started stroking feverishly, wanting the orgasm to last forever.

All too soon, I rolled off Miss and onto the bed next to her. Within a few minutes we both began to stir anew. Miss brought her hand up and I could see it fondle her pussy.

"You've made me a complete mess, you randy boy, and I haven't even dealt with Emily yet," Miss Anastasia said catching me completely off guard. Emily? Would Miss call Emily into the room?

"Go get her for me," Miss instructed.

"Me, Miss?" I asked, surprised.

"You do know where her room is, correct?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Bring her here." By now, I knew better than to question one of Miss's commands. I reached for my clothes.

'You don't need those," she told me.

"Pardon me, Miss?"

"I want her now, young man, not after you've showered, shaved, pressed your clothes, polished your shoes, combed your hair and tweezed your eyebrows. She's only just down the hall. Besides, with the way you've been flashing your dick all evening, I doubt there's anyone on this floor who hasn't already seen it."

I slipped, naked, out into the hallway and tiptoed to Emily's room. My cock flopped from one thigh to the other. Strings of residual semen hung from the slit and swung in long pendulums before splashing to the carpeted floor.

"Emily," I said, urgently knocking on her door, "it's me, please open up."

I saw Emily look through the peephole then throw the door wide open.

"Blaine, you came!" she shouted, then, quieter, "and, oh my, you're ready for action."

"Have you been jerking off?" she asked when she saw how slimy my dick was.

"Miss Anastasia wants to see you, now," I told Emily and began pulling her into the hallway with me.

"What?" Emily asked in total confusion. "Miss? Where?" Then, "I can't go like this." Emily was wearing a thin, sexy, baby doll nightgown.

"I'm naked Emily," I said, stating the obvious. "You might as well be wearing a burka compared to me."

We were at Miss's door and I pulled Emily in. Miss was still lying on her bed but her dress was pulled down.

"Emily," Miss began immediately, "it's come to my attention that you've been the source of this evening's ruckus."

"I...what?" Emily asked completely confused. "Ruckus?"

"Mrs. Stevens reported what she saw in your room earlier between you and young Blaine here. He's said that you wanted to examine his penis because it was purportedly so large. Mrs. Stevens confirmed that it, indeed, is huge, and now, he's demonstrated that fact to my satisfaction. What have you to say for yourself? Were you the one who made lewd demands of this boy?"

Emily hung her head. "Yes, Miss." She was far less fraudulent than I'd tried to be.

"I'm not surprised," Miss Anastasia said, almost sympathetically, as if she understood Emily's desire. "Well?" Miss continued, "is it as large as you imagined?"

"Oh no, Miss, it's much larger."

"Well, Blaine's received his punishment, now it is your turn." 

Miss Anastasia began raising her dress again and Emily's eyebrows lifted right along with it. Miss spread her legs and showed Emily her messy pussy streaked with strands of pearly cum.

"Blaine had control issues during his punishment and now he's left a mess. Your punishment is to clean me up."

"But how, Miss?" Emily whimpered.

"With your tongue, dear. How else does one clean up semen?"

Emily stood with her mouth open.

"Don't look so shocked young lady," Miss scolded. "Isn't this what you wanted earlier? Weren't you planning to suck the cum out of Blaine's big, black cock before Mrs. Stevens caught you?"

"Yes, Miss," guileless Emily answered

It was my turn to be shocked. Would Emily really have given me a blowjob? Wow!! Then I noticed that her nipples had hardened under her nighty and I realized this was turning her on as much as it was me.

"Well, here it is," Miss said, pointing to the cum on her groin.

Emily walked slowly to the bed and slid between Miss's thighs. Dipping her head she began dabbing the tip of her tongue into the white sauce adorning the older woman's pussy. As soon as she'd gotten a taste, Emily spread her tongue wide and started lapping.

"That's it, now the inside," Miss said after Emily had ingested all the surface sperm.

"Oooooh, that's soooo nice," Miss said softly as Emily dug her tongue deeply into Miss's vagina. "There's nothing that soothes a sore cunt like a tender young mouth." Miss pushed Emily's face into her pussy much as she had done with mine earlier.

I got hard again watching Emily eat the creampie I'd left in Miss's cunt. Just as I thought Miss would begin climaxing from Emily's ministrations, she grabbed Emily by the hair and yanked the worshipping mouth away.

"Young Blaine has recuperated," Miss announced staring hungrily at my raging hard on. "I must have that hard young cock once again."

Miss got off the bed and got on all fours on the floor. Both her dress and shoes remained on. Pulling her dress up over her hips, she ordered me behind her. She grabbed my cock and pulled it up to her entrance.

"Mind your depth now," she told me as she sank backward onto my cock. I pushed forward until my cock slit was gently kissing her cervix.

"Mmmm, that's wonderful," Miss told me. "Now under you go, my dear," she told Emily.

I could see Emily was confused.

"Go on Emily, get your head under there so you can lick both of us, keep us properly lubricated. This young man is quite a handful, or cuntful, to be more accurate."

Emily scooted under Miss and brought her mouth up to where my cock entered her pussy. She kept licking away as I pumped long, slow strokes in and out. I was having more success holding my orgasm the second time. But once Miss began shuddering, it quickly triggered another climax in me.

I felt my cum pumping into Miss's pussy with the excess dripping into Emily's eager mouth. Poor girl, she had no one to soothe her pussy and she was desperately trying to make up for that with her mouth. As my cock softened, it slipped out of Miss and between Emily's greedy sucking lips.

"That's it, dear girl," Miss said to Emily. "Get that lovely black cock all cleaned and polished then clean me out as well."

Emily's mouth felt so soft and sweet as she cleaned the mixed juices from my cock. I moved back onto my haunches when she'd finished with me and watched her start on Miss's mess. Emily's panties had become soaked (and sheer) from her juices. I could see her humping her pretty pussy against the air in her excitement.

Miss sighed again and again as her pussy was licked clean. Soon after shuddering to a final climax, Miss stood, her dress again dropping over her intimate parts. "Get up," she told Emily and I.

Confused yet again, I stood up and helped Emily to her feet.

"Go back to your rooms now," Miss ordered. As I again reached for my clothes, Miss said, "NOW!"

Emily and I, naked or near naked, slipped into the hallway again. She had left her key in her room when I pulled her away. Mine was in my clothes in Miss's room. We were scared to death. Finally, I knocked on my door and my groggy roommate let us in. He was far too shocked to say anything as Emily and I hurried to my bed and got under the covers.

Emily and I cuddled. She had her back to me and started rubbing her sweet ass against my cock. She pulled my hand down to her crotch and I could feel her own hand was already massaging herself. Poor Emily, nobody had gotten her off. Still, I was cautious. 

"We can't do anything," I whispered into her ear.

"Why not?" She asked, not whispering.

"Him, for one thing," I answered, meaning my roommate.

"I'm right here," we heard him say. "I can hear everything you're saying. This isn't right you know. I could get in trouble for not reporting you two."

Emily got out of bed, walked over to him and yanked his covers off.

"What are you..." he sputtered.

"How's this for trouble?" Emily asked, fishing his dick out of his pajamas and fellating him.

Holy shit! I thought, That girl's a wild child!

In a matter of two minutes, that kid was blowing his load. Just before he did, Emily pulled her mouth off his cock leaving him to fire his volleys not into the slick, warm confines of Emily's hot mouth but into the cool, dispassionate breezes of the room's conditioned air.

"Now shut the fuck up and go the fuck to sleep," Emily ordered, pulling his covers back over him, leaving his semen to dry and cake on his PJs and the hotel's linens.

Back in bed with me, Emily sucked my earlobe and whispered, "Now where were we?"

"Not doing anything," I answered, but smiled. Then I asked her why she hadn't let the poor guy cum in her mouth.

"Would you have kissed me if I did?" she asked, pulling my face closer to hers and pressing her lips against mine. 

The girl had a point, I conceded to myself. Her tongue muscled its way into my mouth. Her passion was fierce as she expressed an enormous need using her mouth but no words.

"But you," she whispered, "you'd better not pull out on me." She began sliding down my body.

"What about you?" I asked as she kissed my chest. I was concerned that she hadn't climaxed yet.

"I'm a big girl," she answered, looking up from nibbling my abs. "I can take care of myself."

Her head dipped and my cock was in her mouth. She made all the appreciative mewlings and moans as her lips and tongue rode up and down my hard, black prick. 

Emily was a much more experienced cock sucker than I'd imagined. Her mouth was as soft and wet as the most perfect cunt. She could even sense when I was set to ejaculate.

"Give it to me big boy," she whispered, momentarily removing her mouth just as I prepared to explode. 

I did. As my cum started splattering inside Emily's mouth, I felt a tremendous shudder in her as well. True to her word, she had gotten herself off along with me. 

She remained under the covers suckling my cock as it softened. I began to drift in and out of sleep. I could feel her lips and tongue continuing to work my cock in fits and starts. The would be a few rapid nursings, then nothing for a few minutes, then something again.

"Em, I can't go again," I started to say, lifting the sheets to see her face.

Staring down, I could see, even in the dim light that she was fast asleep and nuzzling my cock like a napping baby with its bottle. Dropping the sheet, I joined Emily in the rejuvenating comfort of Morpheus.



Miss Addiscombe's Virtue



"Ah," said my father as I strode into the drawing room at Harthorpe Manor "Stephen, this is Miss Addiscombe."

I stared, she was dressed from head to toe in black, every single thing and although she might have been regarded generally as a great beauty the evil stare with which she regaled me dismissed any such notion of beauty instantly.

"Enchanted," I smiled, "Your reputation precedes you, and your beauty is indeed, ah," I paused and cast my eyes around the high ceilinged oak panelled room seeking inspiration, "Quite remarkable."

She near un nerved me with her icy stare, her anger clear in her brown eyes

"It was justice brought me Mr Darrowby," she retorted, with the air of someone used to compliments, "Not to seek meaningless platitudes but justice, my just deserts."

"Indeed?" I enquired, "And what injustice have I brought upon you?"

"Stephen!" my father scolded, "Why Mr Collin's estates of course."

"Oh, Castlefields!" I exclaimed, "But what injustice?" 

"Sit down," my father ordered, "You have taken possession of Mr Collin's estate, the very estate Miss Addiscombe had hoped would be her matrimonial home."

"Yes, indeed," I agreed, "But I see no injustice."

"You intoxicate my poor Henry and cheat him of his properties by card sharpery and see no injustice." she snarled.

I stared, a wisp of stray chestnut brown hair straggled across her pale pink forehead, nothing in itself but somehow indicative that she cared not for anything but retribution and I was fortunate that I had taken note of my father's instruction to sit or I should have fallen, "Oh, I see," I agreed.

"You do not deny it?" she asked icily.

"No, I own Castlefields, there is no denying it." I admitted.

"Stephen!" my father exclaimed, "Why that's a thousand acres!"

"Nine hundred and eighty three," I corrected him.

"Well its nigh on a thousand acres!" he declared, "No wonder poor Miss Addiscombe is so discomfitted."

"And you stole it from poor Mr Collins." Miss Addiscombe snapped.

"Hardly stole!" I replied, "No, do you see," I tried to explain.

"Well I am ruined by your chicanery," Miss Addiscombe announced, "Poor Mr Collins is destitute and I am to become governess to the Misses Grayson, do you understand." she said angrily.

"Her poor papa has but recently departed this earth and his estates are entailed upon his Cousin Geoffrey, his uncle Robert's issue do you see," Mama interjected.

"Oh, my sincere condolences." I commiserated.

Mama continued "He has ordered poor Miss Addiscombe and her poor mama to the from the house and Miss Addiscombe must find a position since poor Mr Collins is now ruined and has withdrawn his offer of marriage!"

My mind clicked relentlessly, Miss Addisombe, only daughter of Hubert Addiscombe, clearly Collins once thought her an heiress, and worthy of wooing despite her foul demeanour, and had then cast her aside thoughtlessly.

"Oh!" I was about to protest but the anger in Miss Addiscombe was so fierce that I remained silent.

"And Mr Collins?" I enquired, trying to reconcile the saint I saw in Miss Addiscombe's mind with the cheating idle whore chaser I had lately had business dealings with.

"Desperate to regain his fortune." Miss Addiscombe averred, "As you well know."

"Shall you join us for Dinner?" my mother asked brightly.

"No, I thank you," Miss Addiscombe demurred, and she shuffled awkwardly in her chair.

"Miss Addiscombe wished to meet you Stephen, to put a face to the name," my father explained.

"Ah," I agreed, "Then if you will excuse me I have business to attend." I bowed to Miss Addiscombe and made my way to my room, which I retained from my childhood despite the fine town house I owned outright in Hepple Street and I set about my affairs.

The business of Collins perplexed me, it was true that I had acquired his estates, but through trade, Buntingthorpe had made Collins a proposition, Collins needed collateral and I offered a term loan of barely a fraction of the value of the property at a healthy interest which Collins accepted.

It was hardly my fault that the Manchester and Carlisle railway shares which Collins mortgaged himself to acquire and which were expected to increase prodigiously in value should have instead plunged to worthlessness, maybe I should have given Collins more time but business is business, and my own collateral is not limitless, though I had done splendidly from various of my investments, and my fathers five hundred pound loan offered when I came down from Cambridge to show I had no head for business had now be repaid and my worth grown greatly. 

"Has Miss Addiscome gone?" I asked when I came down again.

"Such a sweet child." my mother said.

"She walked Stephen," Father said, "Walked from the Grayson's to meet us and shall walk back again."

"What?" I asked, "To see me?"

"Indeed," my father confirmed.

"Should have offered her the carriage." I suggested.

"She's Grayson's servant now Stephen." mother reminded me, "Propriety forbids."

"Tosh!" I snapped, and I bellowed, "Hodgkinson, my carriage if you please!"

"Sir?" Hodgkinson enquired as he emerged from the servants sitting room.

"My carriage, I shall return to town this evening." I informed him.

"Very good sir," he said as was his wont and he scuttled away to the carriage shed and the stables.

I collected my traps and he had the carriage at the door before I was ready and so I was able to swing aboard and set off with no delay.

I made a detour and I came across Miss Addiscombe near the barn at Fotherby farm, "Might I offer a ride?" I asked.

"No!" she said rudely "You may not!" 

This was a shock indeed, night was falling, the evening train could be heard snorting along the railway, and at this rate she would not be home with the Graysons before darkness fell, more worryingly I would not be home or in town when night fell.

"Then if you shall not accept my hospitality I shall have to insist," I ordered, "Climb aboard I say;" but she defied me and when I climbed down she ran, which while unexpected did at least speed her journey.

"Walk on!" I ordered and as she ran so I followed and when she slowed I climbed down and spurred her on and just when she seemed exhausted so the Graysons' establishment hove into view and with her last reserves of energy she rushed to their sanctuary, and, seeing she was safe, I made my way to my house in Hepple Street.

My housekeeper Mrs Frape awaited me, "Oh sir, why we never expected," she blustered.

"Yes?" I asked, "So what have you to confess?"

"I have no dinner for you sir!" she admitted.

"And Sefton, where is Sefton?" I asked, Sefton my osler, a fine figure of a man.

"He is at the Flying Horse, sir." she said

"Then I shall stable the horses," I agreed, "While you prepare a repast."

"But Sir, I have no meat, nothing." she complained.

"Then I shall dine at the Colonial and Americas Club." I said and having stabled my own horses and changed into a suit suitable for the purpose I made my way there straightway.

There was a surly bunch present, Henry Collins among them, boasting of his latest venture, and his new love, "Lord Arkett's daughter Tiffany," he boasted, and proposed a toast to the ageing, tolerably ugly and undoubtedly fat noble woman.

"And what of Miss Addiscombe?" I asked.

"More interested in my house than me, old boy," he averred, "Scheming little trollop."

"What if she should sue for breach of promise?" I asked.

"She ended it." Mr Collins retorted, "Not I."

I dined at near eleven o'clock,and when I was finished "A room if you please," I requested.

"Indeed sir!" Thrumpsford the under manager agreed, "And a maid?"

"No!" I declared, "Certainly not!"

"A boy perhaps?" he leered.

"No, most certainly not!" I protested, "Do you take me for a sodomite?"

"I intended no offence Mr Darrowby," he squirmed, "Mr Collins suggested," he lapsed to silence as I considered a swift blow to his jaw, 

"Then never suggest such a thing again." I insisted, but then my anger turned to more affluent targets but I had to reflect that at the age of twenty five summers I had yet to find time for matrimony, and as a passing knowledge of sea-mans diseases kept me far from brothels and courtesans, so one might logically infer that I took my pleasure from sodomy. 

He found me a room and I slept fitfully a sodomite indeed, well I should show Mr Collins I decided, but how was a different problem indeed.

I breakfasted at the club, "Darrowby, old chap, might I borrow your coach do you think?" Mr Collins asked jovially and insolently as we ate our toast.

"No, for it is a sporting number and would surely break under your weight," I suggested and he looked so shocked that I relented immediately.

"Keep it for the week," I offered, "For I have business in Brighton." Business indeed, and for that the railway not the cart was required.

The train ride was tedious in the extreme, why oh why must locomotive engines pootle along southwards at no more than thirty miles in the hour when Mr Gooch's locomotive engines hurtle eastward and westward to and from Bristol at twice that velocity?

But for all that I struggled across London from Euston Gate to Blackfriars and behind a yellow hued Locomotive Engine of the Brighton line I made my way slowly south.

I had business, business indeed, a row of houses, hovels, worthless hovels beside the line near the Brighton station, and needed for expansion of the same if not immediately then in the fullness of time and I brokered the sale from a variety of owners to the railway company for a not immodest fee, and whilst there I sampled the season beside the sea as society enjoyed the season of dancing and bathing.

I saw the society beauties and the courtesans and worse the myriad whores that abounded but none caught my eye, and when the ink was dry and the promissory note safe in my valise I made my tedious way north once more.

I spent no more than one night at my home before I decided to inspect Mr Collins former estate Castlefields for myself, perhaps I should sell, perhaps retain it for my home, but first I must inspect it.

I took the train to Ousterby the nearest station to Castlefields, slowly and tediously behind a museum piece of a locomotive engine that should have restricted itself to hauling coal waggons, and on arrival at Castlefields I was unwelcome, news of my acquisition having failed to penetrate to these distant parts..

"The Mistress is away," I was informed,

"I am Master now!" I insisted.

"Well sir it is from Mr Collins and his bride to be Miss Addiscombe that I take my orders," the cook said, a great fat battleaxe of a crone, indeed precisely the sort of crone with whom one should give the most careful consideration before seeking battle. 

"Then I shall bring papers and the bailiff," I declared.

"I would be obliged sir," she said and then added, "But come and see the terrace, oh and the view my Lord," the cook suggested as a way to mollify me, and I stood on the terrace and saw the view, "Ruined by the railway I am afraid," she said, but I disagreed.

"Framed by the railway," I said "Scarcely ruined," as old "Hebron" the last survivor of the Tallot class of locomotive engine smokily trundled south with a short train of waggons, making my assertion ridiculous.

"Miss Addiscombe has done wonders sir!" the cook avowed, "See her choices of colour and of furnishings." she ordered more than invited before taking me on an entire circumnavigation of the house.

It was very ordinary, I fear, and I left to catch the next train, however something possessed me to take instead the train away from town arriving instead at the station nearby to Mr Grayson's house or if not adjacent then a mere four miles away.

I walked across the moor easily enough, I had ridden the whole area with hunting and swiftly came to the Grayson house.

Children were playing noisily and there was no one to be seen, "Hello!" I called.

"Yes," a sweet female voice called, an voice which turned to ice when it's owner regaled me, "Oh Mr Darrowby." Miss Addiscombe addressed me, she wore an apron and hat less her brown hair swept into a tight bun she seemed hot and sweaty, and begrimed, no longer a haughty lady but a servant.

"The children are unattended?" I queried.

"I have to cook their meal, Mr Collins has taken Mrs Collins to town." she said as she fidgeted.

A haughty servant I realised, "And the cook?" I asked and her answer said all, she was no governess, she was cook / housekeeper, and not the first to have been so easily tricked into the purgatory of servitude. 

"She is visiting her family," she lied.

"Liar," I said, "Tis a terrible shame Collins and you were not wed as you have this common disdain for the truth that would make, you union entirely perfect in every way." I didn't see the pan she was holding until it flashed and struck the side of my face.

"Argggh!" I cried, "You witch!" and I lunged at her and grasped her slender waist, she struggled but I subdued her until I was able to bend her over and raise her skirt to expose her buttocks, and as still thinking herself a lady she had petticoats where as servant would wear a simple skirt and pantaloons so when I bared her buttocks they were indeed bared, and more, her sweet conch and her tight round bottom both displayed.

The sight unnerved me, I felt inappropriate stirrings in my loins so I slapped her buttocks more as a token than in anger, yet she wailed as if I had whipped her soundly, and continued to wail as I unhanded her, set her down and stood back and even then she glared at me with tears running down her cheeks.

"I hate you, Mr Darrowby!" she snapped not unreasonably.

"Ah clearly, clearly," I agreed, "But why?"

"You stole Mr Collins estate and my happiness on the turn of a card." she charged again and the duplicity of Collins was revealed once more.

"Then the post of Housekeeper at Mr Collins house does not appeal?" I asked, after all I wanted his lands, I had already plans for a great junction of railways on his lands, he could have the house for all I cared.

"If it means being behoven to you then no!" she said, "Good day!"

I felt sorry for her suddenly, her hair looked uncared for and dirty where before it shone, and her fingernails were dirtied and cut short already and her dress and apron looked in need of a wash.

I decided to leave her to her drudgery yet a sense of injustice prevailed as I walked across the hills the six or so miles to my father's house where I arrived in good time for dinner.

I stayed overnight and borrowed a nag next morning to post to town where I sought out Mr Collins and there I had a brainstorm, "Collins." I said, "I would be obliged if you would inform Miss Addiscombe of the manner of the transaction whereby I acquired your property."

"Oh, developing a conscience are you?" he asked.

"Perhaps, but I would be obliged." I suggested.

"And what do I derive from this," he asked "Your carriage perhaps?" he asked, "As a token."

"Are you so desperate as that?" I asked, but I saw he was, "Desperate for a stake for a card school?" I asked. He nodded.

"Bad luck cannot continue indefinitely." he averred.

"Then we shall visit Mr Grayson," I insisted, "So you may set her straight on the matter."

"Hold hard Darrowby!" Collins demurred, "What benefit is there in it for me?"

"Mr Grayson enjoys a game of cards," I observed, "Twenty guineas, shall that be a sufficient stake with which to bribe you?"

"Indeed," Collins said his piggy little eyes bulging, "Perhaps Bulgersby and Farnsworth might join us?"

"In that case we shall invite Grayson and Miss Addiscombe here instead." I suggested.

"What, the club?" Collins asked, and I affirmed this was indeed my intention.

I had this notion to wager the Castlefields house against the twenty and then lose so Henry might still ask for Miss Addiscombe's hand, though why I felt this way I could not fathom.

It was not so straight forward, with Miss Addiscombe being constrained to servitude but her seeming standing as governess prevailed and on the Saturday as arranged Mr and Mrs Grayson and Miss Addiscombe joined me for Luncheon at the club, believing it to be at Mr Collins' invitation together with Thompson, Tommy, my older brother, father's heir, and of course Collins.

From somewhere Miss Addiscombe had brought out a gown in some hideous blue green colouring, which she wore with the air of a Duchess, an illusion heightened by the wearing of a white blouse beneath buttoned to her chin.

"Henry!" Miss Addiscombe simpered when she saw him, "Have you sent for me?"

"He wishes to see you yes," I said for him and we dined, dined very well at considerable expense, as I found when I paid my monthly account, and then having dined Mr Collins invited us to join him and we settled down to a game of chance, and skill, poker in fact.

Bulgersby, Farnsworth and Ensterby, friends and business partners of Collins's and mine also joined us while knowing I was paying Collins ordered only the finest wines

Henry Collins should have drunk only water, as it was lost twenty guineas in as many minutes, he had the card playing talents of a hedge-hog, I lent him another twenty but that soon frittered itself away as well.

"So Henry, how goes your railway investment?" I asked.

"Well, very well." he agreed.

"And Castlefields?" I asked, "Shall you yet repay me?"

"No, you won it fair and square," he lied.

"So win it back," I suggested, an idea forming in y mind, after all I only wanted the lands of Castlefields, not the house, "What will you wager against Castlefields?" I asked.

"Ugh?" he said drunkenly, "Miss Addiscombe."

"What?" I asked.

"Miss Addiscombe's virtue!" he said.

"What?" Miss Addiscombe asked in consternation, "My virtue, that is not yours to wager!"

"Oh Mary, how exciting!" Mrs Grayson exclaimed drunkenly, "Oh think of it, that great house!"

"Then will you wager it, Miss Addiscombe," I asked, "For Castlefields?"

She stared at Mr Collins uncertainly, shocked.

"For the house, not the estate, house and contents, is that clear?" I asked.

She paused for a considerable time and then, "Yes!" she said with a finality we all took for agreement.

We were dealt two cards each, Miss Addiscombe and I, I had ace and king of spades, then five more cards were dealt and turned face up upon the table, another ace, a king and three smaller cards.

I had resolved to fold do you see, to make her a gift of Castlefields to assuage my guilt but, before I could do so Miss Addiscombe declared, "No!" and she threw down her cards and whirled around and raged at Mr Collins, "A two and a three, you complete fool!" she stared at me, "And you?"

I showed the cards awkwardly.

"Shall you take my virtue here and now," she challenged.

"Indeed, not!" I retorted, but suddenly the way I might disabuse my friends of the notion I was sodomite was laid before me, after all she had wagered her virtue willingly enough.

"Better have it done then you may resume your duties." Ensterby suggested.

"Oh Miss Addiscombe!" Mrs Grayson cried.

"Leave us Muriel!" her husband ordered, "This is man's business," and as Mrs Grayson left us for the ladies sitting room he suggested "Miss Addiscombe, may I suggest the chaise longue in the withdrawing room."

"What!" she wailed, "Have you no compassion!" but we rose and made our way to the Gentlemans withdrawing room.

"No indeed," Farnsworth interjected, as we walked, "You wagered and lost, the sooner virtue is seen to be taken my dear, the sooner you may resume your duties."

"Oh yes indeed," Mr Grayson agreed, "I have great need of a governess who partakes of fleshy pleasures!"

"She is your skivvy man don't be so heartless!" Ensterby chided but Grayson was adamant.




Miss Addiscombe's Virtue



"Then I shall obtain a comfortable whorehouse billet for you in town Miss Addiscombe," I suggested, "Shall we conjoin?"

"No!" she wailed her face flushed and her breast heaving but Bulgersby, Farnsworth and Ensterby were upon her and held her gently and began to disrobe her slowly and tenderly at first as the green gown was removed but as her undergarments were uncovered so she commenced her struggling, and my friends patience frayed until in a flurry of activity her lacings were undone or as was more convenient cut through with table knives and her copious undergarments were removed swiftly with no consideration to her comfort nor to their further use.

Finally just her stockings and black leather boots remained and so was Miss Addiscombe brought to the chaise longue.

For my part shock had overwhelmed me, I meant to give Miss Addiscombe the gift of Castlefields but instead I was ti take her virtue, my appendage shrank, I could no more perform than fly to the moon, until the last wisp of white cloth left her chest and her bosoms sprang free, high proud stiff bosoms with stiff pointing teats, urges once suppressed surged through my loins, swellings commenced until the constriction became too much to bear and I ripped at my fly buttons to release my member.

She stood bared to the waist a moment and then Bulgersby hauled down her under skirts while Farnsworth and Ensterby held her firm and she stood in just her black boots, stockings and her crucifix, and otherwise as entirely naked as the day she were born.

My appendage reared angrily, impatient for the moment, so as Ensterby held her left leg and Farnsworth her right and they held her thighs wide apart even as Bulgersby held her to the chaise longue so there displayed was her privateness and peeping from a forest of brown curls was the sweet pink as yet undefiled lips protecting the way to her womb.

I held myself in check, I could see she was chaste, I was in no danger from infection and soon I should establish firmly and before witnesses that I was no sodomite, and hopefully that I might be seen as a lusty young blade. 

"Ugh," Grayson exclaimed, jolting me from my day dream, "Bring a razor," as he saw the mass of curls displayed but I had more urgent business as desire overcame me, desire and the burning resentment that any should think me a sodomite and in an instant I was upon her my breeches and underthings discarded, indeed everything below my waist discarded untidily even my feet bared.

I knelt, I aimed I thrusted, once, twice, she was most certainly chaste I had no doubt and then with a shrieking wail which chilled my very soul I claimed her, claimed the warmth and tightness that was her womb even in the moment that the first tears flowed down her cheeks.

It was finished as soon as started, a great pent up gout of seed shot from me to her in a frenzy of thrusting pumping ecstasy and I was still.

"My god Darrowby, your have abstained too long," Bulgersby observed, "Not good old chap, the prong needs regular exercise like a race horse don't cha know."

"Who's next?" Ensterby asked.

"Shave her first!" Grayson ordered, and already a servant had brought a bowl of hot waer , towels and a razor for the purpose.

"Shall I fetch a maid sir?" he asked.

"Indeed," I spoke up, "Three perhaps."

"Very good sir," he said and away went he in search of whores.

A maid attended swiftly and she deftly shaved away the innocent curls from Miss Addiscombe's belly to leave the perfect if swollen conch of a whore in place of the soft innocent curls of a lady.

"May I sample her next Darrowby?" Henry Collins asked to Miss Addiscombe's evident horror.

"No her virue is mine," I exclaimed, "I am afraid I shall have to reserve her for myself for the time being."

"You rotten spoil sport!" Ensterby laughed. "T'was worth a try."

"Then may I dress?" Miss Addiscombe asked.

"No, no, remain as you are," I said unkindly, "Let the sweat of your bosoms dry."

"It is tears not sweat Mr Darrowby," she said, "Salt tears of hatred!"

"Indeed?" I queried, "Then drink copiously that you may cry again for I own I am not sated and shall require your service anew before the evening is done!"

"No, you have taken my virtue, there is nothing left in this life for me now!" she wailed and as if in slow motion she lunged at the knife laid upon the table for opening correspondence and seizing it she went to stab her own heart.

"No." I cried in my turn and I too lunged and deflected the blade though not without feeling its sharpness across my hand, she stared is disbelief as the knife clattered to the floor and my blood welled and began to drip.

"Seize her," I ordered, "She is insane." 

It was Collins who seized her, Ensterby who tied her hands firmly behind her and Farnsworth who handed me her underskirt to tie around my wound.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I did not mean to harm you."

"But you did," I said, "You shall remain tied until I can trust you, now come, let us resume our game sit with us, sit with me."

We played a few hands as we sat around the table but the excitement was gone yet with her naked upon my lap I found it calming to caress her, and in between rounds of cards to take the weight of her bosoms in the palm of my hands and tickle her teats until she gasped, "Mr Darrowby please!"

I felt the blood seeping through the makeshift bandage and called upon the maid who stood by to have it dressed properly, she attended me prettily as, if truth be known she was employed in the usual way as a whore, and as such was well used to wounds, and she bathed the wound and dressed it exquisitely.

"Stephen, this has got out of hand," My brother informed me, "It is late, we have a dinner engagement at home with Mr Jones at eight, we should repair to our lodgings, now take her to the whore house or have Mr Grayson or Mr Collins take her but, she will undoubtedly kill you if you do not take care."

"Indeed" I agreed, "Maid, are there whore's quarters here?" I enquired.

The poor girl blushed crimson, "Indeed sir, in the cellar sir." she explained, "But sir, she attacked you!"

"Ah, indeed," I agreed.

"She should be in irons sir, shall I fetch irons sir?" the maid asked, and I agreed.

I expected hand cuffs, but she returned with a great bar pierced in many places and several smaller pieces, "'Tis a leg spreader sir, but my mistress she suggests that her hands might be restrained therein." the girl suggested.

"A capital idea indeed assist me please Mr Ensterby!" I exclaimed, and though it took more than the two of us presently Miss Addiscombe was secured with her arms spread wide and wrists secured to the bar, quite helplessly as it seemed, though by spinning on her axis she could perhaps deliver a substantial whack with her hand.

She was distraught, crying and weeping like a spoilt child, but somehow we made her decent enough to take to my room, admittedly with considerable awkwardness as she had perforce to proceed sideways as her arms were spread more widely than the corridor and there I bade my companions "Good night!" and asked my brother to proffer my apologies before I turned my attentions to Miss Addiscombe once more.

I bared her once more, and delighted in suckling her teats which reared and stiffened delightfully, "No I beg of you!" she pleaded.

"Girl, you are undone, no further harm will come to you," I reassured her.

"No?" she said, "Do you say you shall not defile me once more?"

"Indeed not, I should think twice at the very least I should sample you before I allow any ordinary fellow to do so." I assured her.

"No!" she pleaded.

"Oh very well, I shall take you down now." I suggested.

"No, not that, not that, I can serve you," she said, "I can cook and clean and."

"Fornicate," I added for her, "Yes I don't doubt it," I told her, "But what am I to do if you find me so distasteful, if fornication is such a trial?"

"No 'tis too distasteful," she said, "You have taken my virtue let that be the end of it."

"You should welcome my attentions with welcome arms!" I insisted before I realised the irony of my instruction, and then I pounced.

My manhood was rampant, so I slipped off my breeches and speared her without warning, merely spread her knees as she lay abed and speared her, and this time I entered with no hiatus, the merest yelp from her lips and a surprised widening of the eyes and that peculiar tight slipperiess as I slid deep within her and she was mine once more.

"Does the iron hurt you?" I asked as I ploughed her.

"What do you care?" she asked icily.

"I care because I took a risk to acquire your favours," I explained, "And though I sought you to dispel the notion that I am a sodomite, I own I do rather enjoy sampling your charms."

"I should rather die than remain your whore," she said, though insincerely.

We took no dinner, we fornicated and dozed by turns, and the night was abominable, she took the whole bed, laid upon her back arms spread, so I took the chair for my slumber, then the floor, then the chair again, and then I sampled her again.

She attacked me in the night, or so I thought, I sprang from my chair to confront her, "Shall you never tire of seeking to wound me?" I demanded.

"No!" she said, "But I have need of the chamber pot."

I had no recourse but to release her arms and look away, and then, "Come to bed," she suggested,when her business was done "If I am allowed this freedom there is room enough for us both abed now."

I risked all as I lay beside her, and next instant I was fast asleep.

I woke to find her crying, "For heaven's sake woman, can you not bring me some joy?" I asked.

"No!" she said petulantly, "I shall not."

"Then I shall take my joy without your leave!" I retorted, and I grasped her shoulders and turned her, forced my knee between her knees to spread them and found her innards already sopping with eager anticipation.

"Please!" she said, "Have some consideration!" but the entry was sheer delight, her gossamer smooth lips and channel enticed me to the greatest of exertions and she struggled mightily to keep her icy demeanour.

"You shall be the death of me woman!" I chided, "All my efforts are as nought, I ride you like a whirlwind and yet not one gasp of pleasure do you utter, what must I do to sate you?"

"Sate me?" she asked.

"Indeed, a man cannot rest while his whore remains rampant and un sated." I explained.

"And if I wail and squeal like a she cat?" she asked.

"Then I shall know to release my cream and all is at peace." I explained.

"Oh, very well," she muttered, "Oh, is that it or is it ah or Ooooooohhhh, or is it Ahhhhh, or," she teased and tried me sorely but I knew she was reconciled now.

"Do not think, just allow yourself to wail or howl as you desire," I suggested.

"Wail, howl, I am no wolf and you no Lion!" she snapped unwisely perhaps as I was at that moment imbedded within her.

"No Lion indeed!" I retorted and I thrust hard within her.

"Mr Darrowby please," she gasped, "Why do you use me so crudely, Mr Darrowby," she said, "Some consideration if you please!" and then as I continued with undiminished vigour she shouted, "Mr Darrowby please Mr Darrowby I cannot bear it please, some consideration please, Mr Darrow." and she continued her complaining until my seed began to bubble and squirt and gush within her and finally she was silenced and went limp as she was sated.

"That," I said, "Was exquisite," and like a gentleman, I rolled off her and fell asleep.

I woke with small fingers teasing my manhood, Miss Addiscombe was wiping away the slime of our recent union from my shaft.

"Ah, you truly are insatiable." I exclaimed.

"No, but I wanted." she explained.

"My member within you once more?" I queried.

"Mr Darrowby, can we make an arrangement?" she asked, "If I apply myself diligently to your needs, will you use me and you alone?" she asked.

"And you will afford me whatever service I am desirous of?" I asked.

"I shall sir," she said contritely.

"Then kiss my lips." I insisted, "Like a lover."

"I cannot!" she protested, "I cannot pretend to love you!"

"There, so your plan falls, on the bed, legs astride, let me ride you anew." I insisted.

"No!" she protested but she had no other choice but to lie back, and when laid back it was simplicity to take her cheeks in my hands and kiss her mouth.

She kept her mouth tightly closed so I held her nose and as she gasped for breath so I claimed her though fearful that she might bite my tongue I used a modicum of care but she knew that I had prevailed.

"There," I exclaimed when I was satisfied, "Now was that so unpalatable?" I said meaning to offer her the chance to be mistress at Castlefields.

"Yes!" she complained, "But I shall bear it stoically."

"And are you ready to conjoin?" I asked, "To conjoin and fornicate at my pleasure?"

"Unwillingly!" she declared.

"You will never make a whore," I told her, "Too much spirit."

"I, I don't understand." she said, "Why do you take such pleasure in humiliating me?"

"I merely speak the truth," I explained, "Your body lacks curvaceousness and you have the tongue of a witch," I suggested, "Yet you please me."

"I am considered a great beauty!" she protested, "By many."

"Was," I reminded her, "You were, but put your cloak on and we shall take some sustenance."

She dressed in such clothing as we had allowed her the evening before and went to dine, though it were nearer luncheon than breakfast and there she ate ravenously, "Miss Addiscombe," I said, "Do you have a fist name that I may call you?"

"'Tis Mary," she answered, "And what should I call you?"

"Sir or master," I suggested, "But I have a notion as to how you might serve." I said, "But wait here a while as I arrange matters," and I slipped away to speak with the whores who inhabited the cellars of the club.

I had heard tales of how debauched the Club whores could contrive to be from other men and wondered if by training Miss Addiscombe thus she might fill all my needs and so I earnestly discussed my plan with a sort of queen whore named Michelle and agreed the length of time to be taken over the task and sum of money I was to pay.

Arrangements concluded Michelle and I returned to fetch Miss Addiscombe, "I have asked Michelle to show you the tricks of whoredom," I explained and though she railed against me Miss Addiscombe had no alternative but to follow Michelle down the servants stairs to the bowels of the Club to the lowest level of cellars wherein were dormitories where whores might sleep dry and warm in tiers of box beds and in another cellar were cages with irons where such might be imprisoned if that was the gentleman's pleasure. 

"Now listen!" I instructed her, as we approached her, "I have arranged for Michelle to instruct you, so take heed of her that you may be my own singular whore."

"No, I'm no whore!" Miss Addiscombe protested.

"But you are Mary," I explained, "But I have in mind that you shall be my own whore, so if you learn well then that shall be your calling, otherwise you shall pleasure the many."

"No!" she protested but with a sweet reassuring smile Michelle approached and with gentle fingers stripped Miss Addiscombe to nakedness once more, and handing me the discarded gown and boots she called her sisters for assistance and so were iron manacles fastened around Miss Addiscombes wrists and ankles and a leather collar around her neck that she might be restrained.

"Once again you deceive and trick me," Miss Addiscombe complained as Michelle led her to a small cage wherein she could sit, or lie on the soft bedding but not stand.

She looked the epitome of suppressed rage as I left, anger such as would have struck me dead had I allowed it gleamed in her eyes as she regaled me by stuttering candle light. 

Business compelled me to leave Miss Addiscombe at the club and it was two full days before I returned once more..

I awaited her in a bed room, Michelle led Miss Addiscombe in now attired in the simple servant's style with dress and apron yet manacled still and instructed her to "Commence!" 

Miss Addiscombe disrobed unwillingly, but disrobe she did and then in annoyance she licked her big finger and as she sat nakedly upon the bed she inserted the finger between the her soft pink lower lips, 

"Mary!" Michelle chided.

"Oh very well!" Miss Addiscombe agreed, and she commenced to caress her own breasts with her free hand, "Will this suffice?" she asked insolently.

"A second finger please Mary" Michelle ordered, "And more movement,"

"Oh really," she said in annoyance, but as ordered she inserted a second finger inside herself and she shuddered as she did so.

"I have an India Rubber Phallus I let her practise with, shall you prong her sir or shall I fetch it." Michelle asked.

"Neither, let her beg for my prong," I said.

Miss Addiscombe was now looking discomfited, "I am ready Mr Darrowby," she said.

"So I see, in need of me in fact," I observed, "Would you agree?

"Yes, no, oh why else would I be doing this?" she asked with inappropriate sarcasm.

"For your own debauched pleasure," I suggested.

"No, most definitely not!" she retorted.

"Then you may cease." I said "Thank you," but cease she did not or could not for something inside her was ignited and required to be quenched.

She stared at me and lowered her gaze, "But Mr Darrowby, I cannot," she said awkwardly as she had been taught, "I need a phallus."

"Mine?" I asked in amusement.

"It would suffice." she said.

"You are asking me to insert myself within you!" I exclaimed.

"No, yes, oh I don't know," she protested, "Please do not torment me, just do it!"

"Will you kiss me tenderly." I asked.

"No, just a phallus if you please, but hurry," she said, "For I am sorely in need." she uttered as she had been taught and so I once again lowered my breeches and sought her lower lips with my fingers and finding them awash nearly with moisture I had her lie back upon the bed and as she spread her legs wide so at one time she guided my manhood inside her and I rammed him home firmly so firmly that she cried out.

"Oh," she cried, "Ohhhh," and I expelled my pent up cream in a great gush which sated us both in an instant.

She lay back then and smiled at me for an instant before she remembered to scowl, I spoke first, "That was very pleasant, if a trifle rushed," I suggested, and I turned to Michelle, "You may leave us now." I declared, "Take the irons if you will."

It took more than a moment for the irons were secured with Pad-Locks but it was done and Michelle carried away the manacles as she left us.

I lay abed a moment and then on an impulse I undressed entirely as Miss Addiscombe watched me with a steady stare, "And how many more mistresses have you Mr Darrowby?" she asked.

"What care you of my affairs?" I asked,"But no, you are alone."

"And wives or sweethearts?" she asked.

"Neither, why?" I asked.

"Then how shall I have respite from your repeated lusts?" she asked.

"Madam," I declared, "I have but little by way of lustful needs."

"Then why does your appendage even now point to the heavens?" she asked.

"Perchance you are the great beauty you claimed." I declared.

"Michelle said a swollen appendage should be relieved at the earliest opportunity to diminish the gentleman's discomfort to its least." she explained.

"And you desire it within you?" I asked.

"Michelle said it was seemly to invite a gentleman thus," she explained.

"You are still not sated, are you?" I demanded, "No nor I."

"Michelle said I was to," she said, and stopped, "Please Mr Darrowby, can you not release me?"

"No, but tell me what troubles you, and no shyness I insist." I replied curiously.

"I have desires," she admitted, "Carnal desires which are quite improper, Mr Darrowby, Michelle has encouraged them and now," she paused, "They overwhelm me."




Miss Addiscombe's Virtue



"Poor Miss Addiscombe," I said before my lips sought her teats and she moaned softly. 

"Why will you not listen?" she asked plaintively. I sensed something troubling her so I made do with kissing her teats until the time was right and she reached out to guide my manhood within her and as the velvet softness of her cavern engulfed me so I entered anew the dreamland of my mind, wherein I slumbered gently amid towering clouds of fluffy pink marsh-mallow from where I looked down at railway tracks, not the one or two but hundreds and the whole world was swirled with the smoke of factories, steam ships and manufactories.

The immediacy of my emission brought me to reality as the first pulses of my juices gushed out to sate Miss Addiscombe's needs and she smiled, a beautiful smile, but one of triumph which I found perplexing.

I left Miss Addiscombe in the hands of Michelle and her whorish clan with instructions that a trouseau of whorish garments should be prepared for her new life as my own sweet private whore, and that she might earn the art of face painting that gives the whore such allure.

I had business that afternoon but later on my return when I found the dinner places in the club dining rooms were all taken up it was to my own town house instead that my invited party repaired, Ensterby, Henry Collins, and his younger brother Filbert, Bulgersby, Farnsworth and indeed Grayson, all invited to see Miss Addiscombe's transformation form society beauty to rampant whore, and indeed to see that a sodomite I was not!

I paid Michelle the whore from my club and she brought with her a cohort of street girls each freshly bathed and perfumed and attired in freshly laundered things that my friends might be sated also, and so we sat down a pleasant meal brought from the kitchens of the club served by the maids Miss Addiscombe included, who tended us as waitresses.

Michelle had prevailed upon me for a sufficiency of funds that the girls might be dressed as French maids, all in black with crisp white aprons, and Miss Addiscombe was likewise attired, and, it must be admitted, with great reluctance did Miss Addiscombe assist with the serving of the meal, in fact after the soup a commotion was heard such that I had to attend.

"I shall not do it!" Miss Addisombe insisted.

"What?" I asked.

"Carry a large carrot thus," she said, "Thus, thrust inside."

"Michelle!" I chided.

"Tis the mode sir!" she cried, "And most exceptionally pleasant for the gentleman so served."

"Thrust?" I asked, "Inside?"

"Inside sir, indeed sir," Michele said and seeing my concern she insisted, "In front sir, not behind that would never do, the carrot might be soiled."

"Oh my lord!" I gasped.

"Tis not funny!" Miss Addiscombe sapped at me insolently. I bridled, all this and still she did not know her place.

"No, it is not, still you do not know your place madam, you speak as if we are equals, we are not madam, now disrobe and insert the carrots, soiled or not both passages shall be plugged and in nakedness shall you serve the meat course, do you understand?" 

"Indeed I shall not!" she protested.

"Then I shall allow my friends to sample you." I promised.

"Then, I shall steel myself, for I am sure their lusts outstrip yours tenfold." she retorted, and she shuddered involuntarily.

"And having sullied you with their filth I shall afford you the consideration of joining Michelle and the ladies in whoredom at the Colonial and Americas club and in the back streets and alleyways that abound that you may serve ostlers and servants when you belly swells and your looks fade." I said jocularly for I was sure she knew I held her in some esteem.

"I should rather die!" she said and she grabbed for the large knife used for carving the meat, she beat me by a whisker but before she could thrust it through her heart I deflected it with my arm in an instant of rending fabric and shocked agony of blood letting as again she wounded me.

I stared at my blood oozing forth, "Don't just stand there fetch bandages you stupid woman!" I chided.

"I'm sorry," Miss Addiscombe said, "I meant to harm myself."

"And you are my property so by so doing you would hurt me, so it was intended." I snapped back, "Get bandages someone, and help me disrobe."

It was an ugly flesh wound, too severe for mere bandages so Dr Higgins, our family physician was summoned and he came directly within the hour at the latest.

Higgins was a portly but kindly man, of father's age maybe, and he arrived dressed soberly and in a surprising degree of sobriety given due regard to the hour.

"Why Miss Addiscombe!" Dr Higgins declaimed on arrival, as he found her dressed again soberly in maids attire, "What a pleasant surprise, what brings you here?"

"I" she replied at a loss for explanation.

"She has fallen on hard times Doctor," I explained, "She is variously a servant and a whore."

"Then she must come and live with us." he replied heedless of my wounds as I stood before him bared but for my breeches and undershirt.

"Mr Darrowby and I have an arrangement Doctor," she said, "I am his mistress, he would offer marriage but for my situation," she continued.

"You are a common whore, look at your attire!" I replied.

"You really are impossible!" Miss Addiscombe snapped, "I try to accommodate you and just humiliate me, should have tried the knife upon you!"

"Did she not?" Higgins asked.

"No, she turned it on herself when I jokingly offered her to my friends carnally." I explained.

"Then shame in you sir!" Higgins snapped, "I have known Miss Addiscombe from a child there is no sweeter nor more beautiful girl in the county I'll wager and yet you treat her so?"

"So what should I do?" I asked.

"Make her an offer," he said "Or die of loss of blood or gangrene for I shall not treat your wounds if you decline."

"Then the offer is made." I agreed.

"And accepted." Miss Addiscombe agreed, "Am I still to deliver the carrots as you require in nakedness?"

"Indeed, but only I shall sample you." I insisted.

"I hate you." she said, "I shall make your every waking hour a torment."

"Oh a pretty gown, a ring, a necklace, a half dozen children running around the gardens at Castlefields, no you shall love me soon enough." I explained, "And no, forget the Carrots, let the doctor do his business and we shall tell our friends our news."

"Oh no," she said, "I have your command," and she smiled, and slipped off her maids gown, and by standing upon one leg, to the doctors consternation she slipped a large carrot up her bottom and another in her slot and went through to the Dining room where my friends were drinking port and nibbling biscuits in complete nakedness.

Mr Collins I am reliably informed went red of the face and choked upon his biscuit at Miss Addiscombes lewd nakedness and all were agreed nothing so unseemly had they ever witnessed, "Carrot Mr Collins?" Miss Addiscombe offered as she pulled the slippery wet vegetable from her most private place and offered it to him, and his knees buckled as he tried to stand and he crashed to the floor. 

"I am to be Mrs Darrowby," she said as she pulled the other carrot fromm her behind to leave it stinking beside the biscuits, "Shall you all attend the church or shall you crowd around the bed while we fornicate."

"Darrowby!" Mr Collins cried, "Miss Addiscombe is surely insane!"

"A moment!" I cried and as the doctor released me I went to seek them out, "No Mr Collins, 'tis you who is insane." I charged, "You cast aside Miss Addiscombe, she was yours for the taking and so you are the imbecile."

"She is a whore sir, I am well rid of her," Collins said.

"Indeed?" I enquired, "Bend over the end of the table please my dear," I asked pleasantly enough, "For I shall seal out union anew if you have left me enough blood." 

She bent over the table as requested and reached around and spread the soft pink lips which led to her womb even as I dropped my breeches and drove deeply inside her once more.

"Do you find it pleasing to watch us fornicate, have you no homes to go to?" she demanded as I ploughed her.

Collins for one rose to leave so I challenged him, "Oh hold hard Mr Collins," I requested, "For we have business to transact," and then I was lost in her, I withdrew briefly whilst we repaired to the floor and then I speared her anew, her legs wrapped around me this time, and softly she drew the cream from me in the way that Michelle had taught her.

Then it was done, I was sated indeed and I climbed from her, wiped my appendage on a napkin, and drew up my breeches, "So Mr Collins, regale us with the tale of how I swindled you of Castlefields."

"It was the cards," he said.

"But brother," Mr Filbert Collins spoke up, "Surely Mr Darrowby advanced money on the surety of Castefields for your railway venture?" he asked, "I cautioned you against it."

"I, ah, that may well be but I was intoxicated." he blustered.

"You made me believe Mr Darrowby swindled you!" Miss Addiscombe snapped at him, "You made me hate Mr Darrowby,"

"For which I thank you," I averred, "For hate is so easily changed to love, and I do believe when three or more of our children run free Miss Addiscombe I do believe you may come to love me."

"Had you not debauched me so sorely that would surely be the case." she said quietly, "But for now I shall tolerate you."

"Love me or I shall lay you on that table and plough you anew." I threatened.

"No, I shall not!" she replied, but with a smile, so I did not press the matter.

"It was said," Miss Addiscombe reminded me a few moments later when she sat nakedly upon my lap, "The offer was made and accepted, in jest but made it was."

"Yes," I agreed, "And I shall hold you to it!" and then I said "See yourselves out gentlemen we shall repair to my bed."

I took her hand and we rushed upstairs, but it was not for pleasure, rather weakness for my wounding and fornication had weakened me completely.

We lay together nakedly until morning, "Did you mean what you said about children and gowns?" she asked as I woke.

"Indeed, I think we shall take Castlefields as our home." I suggested.

"Yes," she agreed, "Stephen," she said, "I shall be the best wife ever." she agreed.

"My whore," I corrected her, "Wife in name only for you have beauty, and spirit, and the training and appetites of a whore, and it is as a whore that you are truly perfection," I said and she slapped my face, so I rolled her onto her back and pronged her anew.

It was two days later at Castlefields that she sold her soul to me, I ordered simple garments for her, sufficient for a governess or such and took her to Castefields by carriage and showed the agent and housekeeper the deeds I held and then ordered the entire household to assemble at the garden steps.

"I am Stephen Darrowby your new master and this my Mistress Miss Darrowby, not wife, mistress, mark you," I said loudly, "And you shall obey her commands as if they were mine."

"Yes sir!" the housekeeper agreed.

"There are some who think me a sodomite, one who takes pleasure with men, so I shall disprove that instantly, Mary!" I ordered, "If you please."

"Must I Stephen?" she asked.

"Yes!" I ordered so she sank to her knees and drew up her dress baring her bottom before bending over a box bush.

The servants gasped, and then I lowered my breeches and as her slot glistened in anticipation I sank my rampant manhood deep within her.

Suddenly all was forgotten, servants, business, everything, just Miss Addiscombe and I conjoined in bliss as I pounded her, and then the cheering commenced, I heard it as a mere background to my pleasure but in truth it was there, as if we performed for the amusement of our servants like animals at the circus, but such cognisance as I gave it was subsumed completely by the bliss of conjoining with Miss Addiscombe in the warm sunlight outside the house she desired more than anything.

"Mr Darrowby," Miss Addiscombe whispered, "Stephen, the bush, it prickles."

"A moment more if you please," I requested and then as if by command a great spurt of cream did I emit and sated Miss Addiscombe entirely.

Then did we hear the clapping, "Shall we take a bow Stephen?" Miss Addiscombe taunted me.

"Indeed, let us hold hands and bow together, on the count of three," I suggested.

"Three!" she giggled and she curtsied as I bowed, and she looked at me and I at her and she smiled and I smiled back and we enjoyed the joke together and then as we made ourselves respectable I dismissed the servants and we sat on the steps together.

"Miss Addiscombe," I said, "When I offered matrimony it was under duress."

"I shall not hold you to it," she assured me. 

"But I wish to reaffirm it," I said, "You desire this house, I need a whore."

"No," she said, "No I need you," she said, "I am ruined, you are my only chance of happiness."

"Then it is settled," I agreed, "We shall be married, and you shall be mistress of Castlefields by day and my mistress by night."

"And bear you children?" she asked.

"Indeed, indeed, perhaps we should endeavour?" I suggested.

"In our soft bed, for that bush has an excess of spikes, so in our bed or." she paused.

"Or?" I asked.

She blushed and smiled nervously, "Michelle said standing up, or indeed standing on one leg with the other raised high and sideways was most exciting for a man." she suggested.

"Then lead on!" I agreed and forth we went to experiment and indeed standing had it's own allure, standing on one leg an unpleasant asymmetry, but upon the bed ploughing her was my favoured practice.

And by degrees she became a lady once more, her gowns reappeared from where she had hidden them away, her nails grew, her hair cleaned and styled now shone, and that April we walked down the Aisle at the church in Todmorden road as man and wife, her white dress barely disguising her swelling belly in expectation of our child.

But our marriage is another chapter, to be told later if there is a demand.



Miss Agatha Willoughby's Academy



Julia Ponsonby had not taken her parents' divorce well. She had always been a daddy's girl and she missed her father terribly. It had not helped that her mother had remarried almost as soon as she received the Decree Nisi and that her stepfather was extremely unlikeable. Harold was something big in the City and was filthy rich but Julia found him cold and controlling. She was disgusted at the way that her mother fawned on him and seemed to accept his every whim (and there were many) as law, so arguments with the both of them were many and growing ever more bitter.

Things came to a head on her eighteenth birthday. She had been drinking more and more heavily for some weeks, and on this, her first ever legal night she had celebrated to excess. She groaned as she staggered out of the taxi to see that the lights in their large town house were still on. Somehow she managed to open the door quietly, intending to sneak upstairs but her stepfather was waiting in the hall.

"And what time do you call this?" He asked.

"Well I call it 2.30, what time do you call it?" Julia said with false bravado whilst trying to ignore her mother who, dressed only in a dog collar, bustier and fishnet stockings, was kneeling at Harold's feet, staring devotedly upwards like a gun dog. 

"I call it high time that your unacceptable behaviour was halted. I am no longer prepared to tolerate your defiance. If you won't discipline yourself then it will have to be instilled in you by other means, young lady. I am sending you to finishing school tomorrow and hopefully you will learn how to behave there" 

"Well I'm not going, you're not my father."

"No but I am your legal guardian until you're 21 and come into your inheritance. Until then I have full and absolute control of your body." The way that he stressed these last words and the way that he stared at her as he said them made Julia suddenly very glad that she was going away. After a few minutes of raging and swearing for form's sake, she accepted the inevitable and ran off to her room.

She was hardly expecting to be sent to a top Swiss School, but Miss Agatha Willoughby's Academy for God's sake? What on earth was that? Where on earth was that? She googled and her gloom deepened. It was an exclusive school in the heart of Surrey dedicated to the teachings of its namesake. Agatha Willoughby had been at the forefront of the Suffragettes. Indeed it had been fully expected that she would lead the movement until she was suddenly asked to step down in somewhat mysterious circumstances and she faded into obscurity. 

The Prospectus stated that the College was "dedicated to the schooling of young ladies of a refined upbringing between the ages of eighteen and twenty one and who needed to be retrained in the standards of behaviour expected of them which had been ignored or insufficiently emphasised by conventional educational establishments." What on earth did that mean? It sounded as though it was a reform school for posh totty with IQ's lower than their Bra size. Julia frowned. Its fees were astronomical! Something wasn't right here. Why should her stepfather want to spend this fortune on her when university was far cheaper and he knew that she would be off the day after she inherited her legacy?

Julia's researches were interrupted by her mother's screams. 

The two women had never been particularly close, but Julia was becoming increasingly concerned about her mother. Margaret Ponsonby had many interests and had found the conflicting duties of marriage constricting. As a girl, Julia had grown used to her mother's growing demands for for 'personal space,' yet this goal had been abandoned as soon as she had remarried, in favour of what Julia considered to be an overwhelming obsession with sex. Her high fashion clothes had been thrown out, to be replaced by skirts whose hems had crept ever higher and now rested just below her bum. Meanwhile her necklines plunged ever lower, revealing both a loss of a bra and the gain of many nipple rings. Julia considered that she now looked like a tart.

And she was behaving like a tart too. Julia had had a sheltered upbringing and despite having a classic English Rose beauty had very little knowledge or indeed experience of sex, and it had never appeared to be high on the agenda of Margaret either, but now her mother seemed to be constantly in need of a good fucking.

Harold just had to be hung like a donkey with the stamina of a horse as Margaret made her demands and her passion known at a volume which would have deafened the average Eastern European tennis player.

There was no way that Julia could concentrate with the moans, the screams and the torrid appeals to be bumfucked coming from the bedroom next door. She jumped into her bed and tried to get to sleep with her head buried under her pillow. Perhaps going to boarding school was going to be a good idea.

So the next day she found herself in the back of the Bentley, being driven to the village of Great Fuckinham and to Miss Agatha Willoughby's School for Young Ladies.

The chauffeur pulled up on the gravel drive, opened her door and drove off again, leaving her clutching her suitcase, surveying the ivy covered walls of a large and extremely ugly country house. She had been expecting to see hordes of schoolgirls running around but the place seemed deserted. Feeling lost and small, Julia pulled the bell rope.

The large wooden door swung open and Julia gaped. In the hall stood a maid. Or rather half a maid. Her top half was immaculately and traditionally dressed, with a frilly lace cap, black high necked blouse and a white bib. But there it ended...literally. Her blouse finished just below her pussy, and then bare legs descended to black rubber clogs.

"I said Can I help you madam?" 

"Er...yes...er...I'm a new girl."

"Of course, please follow me." Nonchalantly, the maid bent down to pick up her suitcase revealing a complete lack of knickers and a neatly shaved pussy. A bemused Julia followed her swaying bum through a large Hallway with oak panels and highly polished floor tiles.

The maid came to a solid oak door, marked "Miss Evangeline Hunter, Head Mistress," knocked and motioned for Julia to enter.

Miss Evangeline Hunter sat behind a large oak desk. She was almost a parody of Julia's expectations. A large florid woman with her greying hair drawn back into a severe bun and an incipient moustache. Her buxom bosom was encased in a white blouse, a tight tie and a heavy tweed jacket. In a booming voice she asked Julia to sit down whilst she finished off her correspondence. Julia perched on the chair in front of the desk. It was weird. At first glance it was a traditional straight backed hall chair, but a large hole had been cut into the generously covered seat, and why on earth had it been upholstered in rubber? She was beginning to doubt her senses. Had she really seen a half naked maid flashing her cunt? It hardly seemed possible as she glanced at the normality of the cluttered room with its cabinets full of silver cups, its walls covered by old photos and in one corner for some strange reason a stuffed octopus. 

The silence was suddenly broken by the gentle sound of running water splashing onto the polished tiles. Julia looked up in surprise. It seemed to be coming from behind the desk but Miss Hunter was continuing writing unconcerned. Just as suddenly it stopped, Miss Hunter signed off with a flourish and turned to speak in clipped and plummy tones.

"Well I'm pleased to welcome you here young lady. This is an old school with a rich heritage, dedicated to the teachings of a very great lady. I'm sure that you will find things very strange at first. Most of my gels do, but all of them come to understand and love the wisdom and traditions that we foster here. They're all off on a cross country run at the moment. That's one of our traditions, my gels love running around in the fresh air communing with nature and so it seems do the villagers. They're marvellously supportive, they always come out to cheer the gels on. As there's no one about at the moment I'll show you around."

Miss Hunter rose and came round her desk and Julia stared in shock. Just like the maid, the headmistress was impeccably dressed, but again just like the maid her bottom half was...was...well, missing! Her top ended just below her crotch, then thick bare legs emerged, covered in varicose veins and ending in the same rubber clogs that the maid had worn. In a daze, Julia got up and followed the woman. It was surreal. She was walking behind a half naked middle aged woman who was showing her around with a total lack of concern that anything was amiss.

Everywhere was as you would expect, the only unusual thing about the building was its utter lack of carpets. Floors were either of highly polished tile or equally polished wood. The school smelt like every school did, a mixture of boiled cabbage, disinfectant and ... urine?

Julia followed Miss Hunter up some bare wooden stairs, observing queasily that the older woman was definitely not wearing knickers, and then they entered her dorm.

"Well I'll leave you here to settle in, I can hear that the first of my gels are returning. Your uniform is on the bed, please put it on as soon as you can and we'll dispose of your street clothes."

Julia could only nod silently. The dorm was equally surreal. The study desks with their computer terminals looked perfectly normal, as did the bookcases and the posters of various pop stars, but in the corner of the room were two exposed shower stalls and between them a hole in the floor that seemed to be a basic drop toilet, all without any means of privacy at all. She had been told that eight girls would share the room but their were only four double beds. Were they expected to share? She was beyond surprise.

She inspected her uniform, such as it was was. It consisted of a straw hat, a white blouse, the school tie and those black rubber clogs. Her suitcase with her spare clothes was nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly the door burst open and in rushed another girl. All she was wearing were the ubiquitous rubber clogs and a sweat soaked running top.

"Hi, I'm Melissa, you must be the new girl. Get your uniform on and I'll take you to Matron for your checkout." She leaned forward and kissed both of Julia's cheeks whist fondling her left tit. Before Julia could react she stripped off her singlet and stepped into one of the showers revealing her well shaved hairless pussy.

"Well, yes, but it looks like they've forgotten the skirt." Julia didn't know where to look, she had never met someone so unconcerned about nudity.

"Oh we don't bother with skirts, they just get in the way and get messy."

Messy? What could she mean?

But there's no underwear here either, and there's no sign of my suitcase with my clothes ."

"Oh you can't wear any of your own clothes round here. Miss Hunter believes that they Foster A Sense Of Competition Between Individual Pupils. Uniformity Promotes Equality And Equality Empowers Individuality." It was as though Melissa was reading from a manifesto.

"Yes, but I've no panties."

"Oh none of us wears those. "Underwear Is The Physical Bondage of Paternalistic Oppression. Casting Off These Shackles Enables Us To Reveal the Enduring Beauty of the Female Form Which We Should Worship And Rejoice. Come on, we'll be late for dinner if we don't hurry."

There was a long pause. This was beyond weird but Julia didn't see how she had much choice. Turning her back on Melissa, she shucked off her dress, buttoned up the blouse and fixed her tie. Her cheeks glowed with embarrassment. The shirt seemed even shorter when worn, her pussy felt every draught and whenever she bent down she would be exposing herself to all and sundry.

Melissa towelled herself dry and put on a matching brief uniform then grabbed Julia's hand and together they ran down to Matron's clinic. This whole place was such a strange mixture of the real and the surreal. This looked like any other surgery anywhere else. There was a whiff of disinfectant and carbolic together with an acrid overtone of...well it couldn't be urine, could it? 

Julia could no longer feel shocked when Matron entered. She was a small buxom woman with a wide smile and wearing only a white hip length smock. Her clogs were white rather than black. Slowly though Julia began to feel more at ease as the older woman bustled around in a totally matter of fact manner, taking her temperature, checking her inoculations and enquiring about possible allergies. Finally she asked Julia to unbutton her blouse and climb up onto what looked for all the world like abortion stirrups. Julia lay back puzzled with her bum raised and her legs in the air. Was Matron going to examine her pussy? That was a bit over the top wasn't it? She found out the reason however when she felt shaving cream being liberally applied to her bush. She struggled to sit up.

"Matron, what on earth are you doing?"

"Calm down, dear, I'm just going to shave your pussy."

"But why? I don't want you to do that."

"Now none of this young lady. You know I have to do this, its part of the school uniform. Now keep still. We don't want me to nick you do we?"

Julia was hardly in any position to object. She lay back in utter humiliation whilst Matron shaved her with a fast and expert hand and then rubbed in a soothing lotion.

"Now there we are. We didn't need any of that fuss, did we Dear? You've got a really pretty cunt now that we can see it." Matron bent down and gave her a lingering kiss on her lower lips. "Here's your cream. Make sure that you apply it every day then you won't need to worry about the Pussy Inspection."

Julia buttoned her blouse and left in a daze. The woman had to be quite mad. She turned to Melissa. "What on earth was she on about? She can't possibly have meant that about it being school uniform can she?"

Melissa turned to her in surprise. "Why of course it is! Pubic Hair is the Veil That Hides Our Greatest Treasure. The Vagina Is The Portal To Our Feminine Essence And By Revealing It In All Its Splendour We Reassert The Dominance Denied To Us By Paternalistic Oppression. Women Should Rejoice In The Beauty of Their Pudenda!" 

Julia's cheeks burned in embarrassment. The slightest breeze, the slightest movement and the whole world could judge for itself her cunt's beauty. Walking with stiff legs she followed Melissa to their dorm. It was occupied by two more of their classmates.

"Hi, I'm Jenny..."

"...and I'm Jessie."

The twins were identically stunning in their beauty. Talking non stop, together or singly they told Julia in a few minutes how cool the school was, what their interests were, where they came from, and their life history, then giggling they turned to change out of their running tops.

Julia sank back onto her bed in utter shock. She turned and whispered to Melissa. "Did you see what they just did?"

"Oh yes, those two do absolutely everything together."

"But, but they just pissed themselves as they stood there." Two steaming streams ran along the tiles. "They acted as though it was perfectly normal."

"Well of course it is, Silly. What could be more natural than peeing?"

Julia struggled to voice her shock. "But, Melissa, they pissed themselves here...in our dorm...in front of both of us...without caring..."

"Of course they did. We all do, wherever we are. Urination And All Other Bodily Functions Are Natural Occurrences Which We Should Accept With Equanimity And Of Which We Should Show No Shame. They Are All Part Of The Essence Of The True Female. Moreover, Retention Of These Fluids Can Cause Untold Damage To That Same Universal Essence, And Hence They Should Be Voided At The Earliest Opportunity"

"So are you telling me that we're all expected to pee ourselves wherever we are as soon as we feel the need?" Melissa nodded. "But what about other things? What about shitting?"

"Yes shit is a problem, its so sticky and smelly. But that is why we have the Long Drops in every room so that we can all go without interrupting our education."

"So we should just get up at any time in the middle of a class and piss and shit in front of everyone?"

"Didn't I I just say that? But you don't need to get up to pee. Just do it wherever you're sitting or whatever you're doing. It's A Purely Natural Function Of Which The Modern Woman Should Accept As Part Of Her Femininity."

Julia felt as though she had been hit by an atom bomb. "But what about other things?" She blushed bright red. "What about when, you know, when its that time of the month?"

"Well, what about it?"

"You mean we should just let it all trickle out?"

"Of course. Its not as if we're wearing panties or skirts, Silly. Besides, Elimination Of The Menses Is a Natural Function Of The Essence of Femin..."

"Yes, yes, I've heard that already." Julia couldn't bear to hear any more of that claptrap. Where on earth had she come to? Was this a school or a madhouse? Her thoughts were broken as Melissa smiled and released a small golden trickle which ran down her leg and onto the floor. The tiles Julia realised were set at a slight slope so that all pee could flow down to sluices by the walls. She understood at last why there was a lack of carpets, and why they all wore rubber shoes.

"Hey that's the dinner bell." Melissa grabbed an unresisting Julia and pulled her down to the refectory.

The Dining Hall was like most others, there was a series of tables with long wooden benches on either side. These were covered in rubber and had holes cut along their length, and Julia could see why, for as the girls were laughing, talking at full volume and eating, she could also hear and indeed smell the tinkle of unrestrained piss dripping regularly onto the floor. She ate automatically, dumbstruck by the situation she found herself in. Her parents were now on holiday, but as soon as they returned Julia would let them know what was going on here and get them to take her home.

Once they had finished eating Melissa jumped up. "Come on, we've got a special treat tonight, there's a movie in the great hall."

Most of the school were present, including many of the teachers. Julia could only recognise Matron, sat on the front row with her legs wide apart, chatting and knitting some shapeless thing. The Hall quietened as Miss Hunter walked onto the stage.

"Good evening gels. Tonight's cinema offering is a biology documentary. Now I want you all to pay special attention to it as its extremely instructive and you can all learn a lot. But I don't want you all to think of this as a special lesson as I think that you will also find this ripping fun, so please sit back and enjoy yourselves." She turned to leave but then stopped and addressed a thin girl on the front row.

"Lucinda Littleham-Squires. Just look at your posture, young lady. Yes, you. Sit up straight my Gel, and open your legs. Come on, further! You know very well that School Regulations prohibit sitting with crossed legs, don't let me have to tell you that again!" 

She stalked off and the lights dimmed. The credits rolled and Julia struggled to control her laughter. Biology indeed, "Lesley gets Laid Again", was pure porn and it didn't take long for the first tits and bums to appear. She waited for Miss Hunter to leap up in affronted dismay, but nothing happened. She turned and nudged Melissa. "What's going on, Melissa. Surely they won't sit back and let us watch hardcore porn?"

Melissa wrinkled her brow in puzzlement. "I don't know what you mean, I'm finding this most instructive. Oh...you can't be offended by this can you? The Naked Female Form Is The Very Embodiment of Pure Beauty And The Act Of Fornication Is The Celebration Of That Very Beauty In All Its Many Forms. So Let Us Therefore Rejoice In The Female Body!"




Miss Agatha Willoughby's Academy



Julia looked around in the gloom. She was no prude but this was extreme. However, everyone including the teachers were staring in rapt attention, all sitting with straight backs and wide open legs as Linda Lovealott was being fucked from behind whilst attempting to swallow a cock so huge that it had to be CGI. Matron was still knitting but it looked as though she'd dropped several stitches. There was nothing for it, Julia smiled and sat back to enjoy the show. It was certainly making her horny. She could feel her juices flowing and almost without thinking her fingers entered her hot and very accessible cunt. She rotated her hips whilst her fingers moved faster, faster as she arched her back and then with a loud cry of joy her tension and all her worries were swept aside as she came in a flood of ecstasy. Guiltily she looked around, but she had been ignored amongst the assorted moans and groans as the entire audience added yet more fluids to the streams of piss dripping onto the floor.

All too soon the movie ended and the lights came back on. The girls slowly roused themselves whilst Miss Hunter came back onto the stage. "Well I think we all enjoyed that very much indeed. Tomorrow there will be various discussion groups devoted to the content and techniques which we have all studied so intently, so as it will be a long day I suggest that we all turn in early tonight." With that she left the stage, smoothing down her blouse and struggling to straighten her tie which had somehow moved round to her back.

The two girls made their way drowsily to their dorm and their double bed. Julia felt drawn of all emotion, shell-shocked by all the weird events of the day. She felt that nothing could surprise her now in this lunatic asylum but she was wrong. She had not been surprised, indeed she had almost been expecting it, to find that nightwear was banned by the school regulations. But she could not help gasping as she turned down her side of the bed.

"Oh My God, Melissa, these sheets are made of rubber!"

"Of course you dummy, cotton takes ages to dry and gets really smelly. This way all we need to do is hose them down at the end of every term."

She had to admit that the sticky feel of the sheets was quite sexy. Julia had never since childhood had rubber sheets and never since puberty had she shared a bed with another girl, let alone a naked girl, certainly not with a naked girl who immediately snuggled up and gently fondled her tits, and absolutely never with a naked girl whose fingers snaked round and softly started stroking her clit, slowly slowly building up her desire. And Julia had never in her life responded to a naked girl frigging her clit by turning round and in a torrent of passion pressing her body hard against the other, fastening her mouth on the other girl's, probing deep with her tongue whilst running her hands over her body, stroking pummelling pinching her boobs all whilst thrusting her cunt hard against the other cunt, thrusting, thrusting, cumming in an explosion of joy that left both girls giggling in a tangle of sweaty limbs and tender emotion. Now that was how to Celebrate The Beauty Of The Female Body!

The girls were awoken by the shrilling of the morning bell. Julia looked sleepily around. Jenny and Jessie were already up and had pinched one of the showers. They were busy soaping each others tits whilst talking to another girl who was standing nonchalantly shitting into the long drop. Shyly Julia entered the other shower. She didn't know what to think about last night's events. She had never before had sexual feelings for another girl and didn't really know how she felt about Melissa. She had been in desperate need for comfort and reassurance which had been freely given and greatly enjoyed, but, she told herself, lesbian fucking was almost normal compared to what was going on here. She did not want Melissa to think that she accepted the lunatic philosophy of this madhouse.

She had just about towelled herself dry when a shout went up from the corridor. "Pussy Inspection Now!" She looked round in confusion, what further madness was this? The other girls were standing to attention, chins firmly in the air, hands clasped behind their back, legs flexed and their cunts thrust forward, so she joined the end of the line just as the door opened. A tall blonde girl marched in. She was dressed in what passed here for uniform, her hair was dragged back into a severe bun and and even more severe expression covered her face. Without a word she walked slowly up and down, staring not at their faces but at their cunts. Finally she produced a looking glass and bent down to stare through it at Julia's pussy whilst rubbing her fingers roughly over it.

"New Girl eh? Well done, that's an extremely smooth pussy. Keep it up and you'll do well here. I'm Veronica Brookes-ffinch, this wing's Pussy Prefect. We won the Smoothest Pussy Cup last term and I'm determined that we'll win it again this time so I want no backsliding or sloppy pussy hygiene, is that clear?" Julia had no idea what she was talking about but she felt it safer to agree so she nodded vigorously.

Veronica made her way along the line, carefully examining each girl's cunt until she came to Lucinda. Veronica bent down once more to examine her hairless cunt but was not impressed.

"What's this? That's a veritable garden down there! Don't you have any pride in your appearance girl?"

"Oh please don't punish me Veronica. I ran out of cream and I didn't have time to get some more. It'll be ever so smooth tomorrow."

"Don't give me that guff. Tomorrow never comes. Kneel down girl!"

Abjectly Lucinda knelt and stared up at the Prefect who cocked her leg and then released a jet of piss over the other girl's head. The golden shower seemed to go on forever, flowing over her hair, her lips and then soaking down into her blouse. Veronica shook the last few drops and stood with legs apart.

"Thank you Veronica." Lucinda leant forward and kissed Veronica's wet pussy lips. The prefect glared at the assembled girls.

"Right, I don't expect to see any further disgusting sights again. I want you all to maintain your pussies to the highest standard so that we can win that cup once more!"

She was obviously expecting a reaction so the girls put up a ragged cheer and she marched out of the room.

Julia stood there gaping at the scene. "What a despicable thing to do."

"I should say so. The Female Body Is A Thing Of Beauty And It Behoves Us To Strive To Maintain That Beauty At All Times. Neglect Of One's Personal Appearance Is A Denial Of The Essential Standards Of Civilisation And Is A Highly Antisocial Act."

Julia stared at her. "Melissa, are you really claiming that pussy stubble is an Antisocial Act and Veronica pissing all over poor Lucinda is not?"

"Of course. She needed to be punished. Would you rather she had been beaten? Modern Female Institutions Will Of Necessity Need To Impose Discipline, But That Discipline Will Be Administered In A Caring Fashion Which Will Educate The Miscreant Without Resorting To The Physical Harm Which Is The legacy Of The Paternalistic Establishment. Come on, Breakfast will be over soon if we don't hurry."

Lucinda was standing by herself, miserably shaking piss from her hair and wringing the the soaking ends of her blouse. The thin material had become transparent under the shower and clung damply to a pair of undersized breasts. Julia went over to comfort her, but decided against giving her a hug. The poor girl seemed so pathetically ineffectual.

"Aren't you going to change out of those clothes at least?"

"I can't, we only have the one blouse which has to last all week. I have nothing else to wear."

This was just ridiculous. Julia's temper snapped. "Well wear nothing then. We're all virtually naked as it is." She almost smiled as she pictured a naked Lucinda wearing nothing but a tie and a straw hat.

Lucinda stared at Julia in shock. "Are you seriously expecting me to go around making a spectacle of myself? I've never heard of anything so disgusting. Clothing Is The Outward Expression Of The Morality Of Western Civilisation. It Is The Differentiation Between The Wholesome Standards Of The Educated Woman And The Godless Anarchy Of The Naked Savage."

Julia stared back. Was everyone here brainwashed into this pseudo religious tripe? Well if the girl wanted to wander round stinking of piss, just let the poor sap. She trudged dispiritedly after the girls down to the Refectory. The noise rang out as the girls ate their breakfasts, laughing and chatting. Julia was finding it difficult to join in. She was getting pretty desperate for a pee, but she was not able to break her conditioning and let go like everyone else. She just couldn't sit there and wet herself whilst calmly eating porridge. Sooner or later she would have to give in, but not here in front of everybody.

The girls trooped off down the corridor for their first class. On their way they were passed by a couple of teachers deep in earnest conversation whilst streams of pee dribbled down their legs and splashed their clogs. Julia became even more withdrawn. Never in a million years would she be able to make such an exhibition of herself.

They reached the classroom and she sat down at her desk. All the chairs had holes cut in their seats and she wriggled her bare bum to get comfortable against the cold rubber. A tall young woman entered, not much older than the schoolgirls. She was wearing a camisole top that clung to her body outlining her jutting tits. Melissa turned to Julia.

"This is Miss Andrews, she used to be Head Girl here and only started teaching last term." She continued talking in an awestruck voice. "She's amazing. She has absolutely no bladder control at all!"

Julia was beginning to envy her. Her need to pee was now extreme. She tried to relax her muscles but she just felt too inhibited to let go surrounded by all these other girls.

Miss Andrews was speaking. "Good Morning Girls. We have a new girl joining us today. Stand up Julia and introduce yourself." 

Julia turned crimson red. She had just managed a small trickle but now that she was the centre of attention her muscles spasmed tight. She mumbled a few words of greeting and hastily sat down. Meanwhile Miss Andrews had walked over to the long drop flexed her legs and stood straddling the hole releasing a turd that seemed never ending. She casually continued talking. "Now our first class is on Agatha Willoughby's Emancipated Philosophy of Liberation. With Julia joining us I think that this is a good time to revise all that we have learnt so far so I've prepared a little resume on the computer. If you can all put on your headphones please."

The Computers fired up and Julia sat enthralled. The lesson was fascinating. She had had no idea that the Great Lady's philosophy could be so reasoned, so captivating and yet so glaringly sensible. All too soon the bell rang for the end of class and she reluctantly removed her headphones. She leant back and with a huge smile she relaxed.

It felt so liberating, so good to feel her long pent up flow of warm golden piss gushing out of her cunt, swirling round her seat, washing down both her legs onto her wiggling toes and through the holes in her clogs onto the tiled floor. The stream continued for some time and she felt its biting warmth until finally dribbling to a halt. Then she savoured her anticipation as she stood up and walked to the corner for a shit.



Miss Amelia's Secret



Sleek black cats in heat sniff each other, warily, curious noses pressed up against pungent flesh and fur. They mate, loudly, amongst the chrysanthemums, to the gardener's amusement.

Resting underneath the shade of a willow, she watches them with detached interest; idly, her hand slips between muslin and skin to fondle an ample breast. Her cunt is tight, aching.

Out of her throat spills rich laughter, as the gardener realizes she is getting horny watching cats mate. Miss Amelia must get bedded. Soon. The gardener loosens her corset a little.

Spring had finally come to her garden. Everything was flowering or fucking; the thick scent of those activities reminded her that she hadn't been laid in a long time, not since that priest came knocking on her door last month. Goodness, that had been an excellent fuck. They had done it in the pantry, up against the wall, with her guests sipping rosebud tea in the next room.

While busybodies murmured gossip above the clicking of fine china, the long legs of their hostess were wrapped round the priest's hips, his hands cupping her generous buttocks bare beneath the froth of her skirts. Miraculously, her black hair was still knotted in a neat bun.

The discovery that Miss Amelia was not wearing any drawers had led to the passionate encounter. The priest simply could not resist the sight of her buttocks, upturned for his delectation, a slight, naughty blush staining their pale roundness.

Descending to the floor, the pair had knocked over a tin of flour, as well as a cup of sugar, but neither had cared, as he plunged his long-malnourished cock into her wet, hungry cunt. Despite decades of voluntary celibacy, Father Benning had impeccable sexual manners. He knew how to fuck sublimely, almost divinely, causing Miss Amelia to forget, for the first and last time, her other guests as she let out a loud moan.

After a brief silence, Mrs Madison had knocked on the door, solicitously, to inquire into the well-being of her hostess. "Is everything alright, Miss Amelia?"

"Mmm. Yes, Mrs Madison," Miss Amelia had replied, from her precarious perch atop the priest, as her confessor bit, gently now, on a swollen nipple, his cock angling to tickle a certain spot that nearly caused her to cry with boundless joy. "Father Benning is assisting me with certain matters of spiritual importance."

"Is that right?" Mrs Madison asked, as she opened the door.

Priest and lady froze mid-fuck; Mrs Madison surveyed the voluptuous scene, shocked.

The door shut, with a furious click, before opening again, hesitantly, curiously.

"May I join in?" the young matron shyly inquired.

Lacy, diminutive pink drawers fell to the floor as Mrs Madison raised her skirts and knelt before the startled pair, parting her dimpled knees to reveal a swollen, already damp cunt, framed by whorls of curly blonde hair. A hand dipped down to cup the puckered lips. A cool tongue parted lips, tasted honey. Mrs Madison was hungry for a good fuck, her splendid busom straining against the front of her dress. Apparently, young Mr Madison had been inattentive concerning certain matters, being both unimaginative and luckwarm.

When the trio emerged from the pantry, their attire was slightly rumpled, faintly dusted with flour. Miss Amelia could still taste the sensuous intermingling of sugar and cunt juice on her palm, a smell she missed dearly.

Shaking herself out of reverie, Miss Amelia decides to wash up at a nearby brook, for her afternoon tea. As a thick cloud of butterflies brushes past her, she revels, if briefly, in the movement of their wings, the velvet caress. Perhaps it was time to visit town again. She shudders. She would have to rub elbows with all those provincials, with their squeamishness and prudish ways. Most of their ilk did not interest her, except for those willing enough for an adventure. But they were few and often surprising. Reflecting on that sad state of affairs almost made her want to move to London, even thought to do so would mean leaving her beloved garden.

Musing, the gardener almost ruins a most opportune moment.

In her brook bathes a sylph. Partly submerged, the woman is young, all long thighs, nipples begging to be sucked and bit. Slight breasts, surprisingly tawny in the English spring, recalling the color of mangoes, of fragrant fruit from a faraway land, brought on a widefaring ship by her sea captain father. A child's memory is recalled, of sucking, salaciously, on a fleshy, slightly tart seed as she sat in the servants' staircase. At that age, it had seemed illicit, scraping at that succulent heart in the dark.

The gardener rests on the grassy branch, underneath a magnolia tree, quite gleeful at her luck. Perhaps she will not need to go to town after all.

Unaware of her leering observer, the silver-headed beauty languidly massages a soapy washcloth over the length of her limbs, between her legs, up against her young cunt. Lather trickles down a thigh. The girl's eyelids slip a little, as her brow furrows in lazy concentration. Yes, you scrumptious scone, scrub harder. Harder.

Miss Amelia is wet. She slips a hand up under her skirts, between her thighs, to the pre-cut slit in her satin drawers. She rubs her slightly callused hand along the velvet folds of her pussy, lifting her skirts just a little, to watch herself get wet, glistening in the sunlight that shafts through the tree branches. A magnolia falls, almost idly, as a breeze sends the tree shivering. The gardener's breath catches, as nimble fingers stroke her cunt.

She imagines a scenario where instead of a mango, Miss Amelia is eating out the cunt of the sylph. They are in a staircase. She has the sylph bent over the banister, hanging unto the rails for dear life as she wiggles her ass up against Miss Amelia, begging to be spanked, yes, spanked with a specially-made paddle enrobed in fur, only to moan as a hot, thick cock pushes into her cunt. A moan escapes.

At this moment, the plot thickens, for the moan captures the attention of the girl, who screams. She is quite surprised, reasonably, at finding this strange attractive woman with her skirts frothing in her lap, who appears to be masturbating.

Who does not even cease what she is doing. Who does not even bother to say, "Excuse me." Instead, she smiles at the girl, a very sexy smile, a daring smile. The woman is daring her. "What's your name, little girl?"

The girl's hands, attempting, vainly, to shield her vulnerable (and quivering) nudity go slack. She is curious. A little aroused. Green eyes dilate.

Shyly, for all adventurers are shy, at first, unsure of their newly found courage, she wades through the brook, to approach the waiting woman. Uncertain, a flush staining her cheeks and other very mentionable parts of hers, the girl places Miss Amelia's hands over the firm slopes of her breasts.

"Sophie, ma'am."

Miss Amelia smiles that sexy, daring smile. She can feel Sophie's heart, trying to beat its way out of her ribcage. The slyph's other hand slides up Miss Amelia's thighs. A tuba bellows triumph in the gardener's head. Someone's getting bedded today . . .

Stays are loosened, a corset untied. A muslin shirt ripples over Miss Amelia's bosom; Sophie can make out the color of her nipples, pushing against the cream fabric, whispery, then damp under her wet palms. The shirt is unbuttoned, revealing raised flesh; a hand massages away the bumps, grooves, and shallow gullies carved by stays laced too tight, the way Miss Amelia likes.

Hands glides over slick skin, finds goosebumps, eases away shy hands to discover wetter secrets.

Sophie reclines on the grass, which slightly crunches beneath her weight. Leaves ripple; blossoms fall. The girl is dizzy; the scent of this woman, leaning above her, between her thighs. Disorientation. Only a few nights ago, she had lain with her man like this, his face scratchy with stubble. Harry had been quite serious too, his body massive and heavy and rough in her arms.

And there was pain too, at first, a lancing that took away her breath because she had not understood it. All he could say, as he heaved in and out, wincing and sweating all over her, was Baby baby baby yes yes my name say my name come on you love this come dont you love this baby don't you. After it was over and done with, after Harry had ejaculated and turned away to fall promptly asleep, she could only think, This is it?

But here was this woman, this woman with the sexy smile and a strong, resilient, soft body, a slightly different mirror of her own, lying between her legs, elbows on each side of her head. Her skirts froth over them, creating a tent of white muslin and red silk. Teasing. Not exactly touching, but close enough. She could hear bees buzzing, idly. Nuzzling open tight buds to get at the prize, the honeypot, the pollen sticky and sweet. She stretched upwards, arching so that she could feel her lover's body, goodness, breasts rubbing against each other, bellies nuzzling each other. Getting dizzy and dizzier.

A nipple, pushing, nuzzling the palm of Miss Amelia's hand, stiff, waiting to be pinched or bitten, gently now, the edge of teeth running over the tip, causing Sophie to sigh, gasp. Again, a gasp, squeezed between her pouty lips, as her lover seizes a stalk of heather and begins to tickle her with the feathery part.

Miss Amelia is quite adept with all flowers; after all she is a gardener. Once upon a time, she studied horticulture in a greenhouse set deeply in the French countryside. During the winter, she would fuck many a man or woman or both amongst the exotics, taking care not to trample the beauteous rarities in the fury of her boundless lust. This tight bud deserves special attention. The girl giggles. Then, a waiting silence, as the girl gets on her elbows to look down at her lover, kneeling between her thighs. A tickle of feather, along the swollen lips of her cunt. The stalk, hard, strange, exciting. Do you want it? Tell me. Right there, the stalk, just where Harry had been, only it was different. Teasing, a little in, a little out, but not quite, never all the way, although, with a slight spasm, her cunt tries to grip the stalk, to pull it into her tight wetness. In. Out. She arches her hips, needing.

You're so damp. And you smell so good. You smell of the darkness and of my garden and you smell of ripe peaches and you smell so delicious that I want to lick you all up right now. In fact, Miss Sophie, I might as well do it.

Sweet Jesus.

Sweet Jesus, indeed. A darkness lies heavy behind the eyelids. Ears so sensitive, she can hear the wings of a dragonfly sipping water, hear her lover's hands gliding, intent, intensely, along her skin, the sigh of the earth revolving, within the cradle of the universe.

Fingers push into tight dampness. Sound smothered. Two. Three. Four. Movement. Oh. My. Gone. The fingers are gone. She wants them to come back. Please.

A strange thickness, like-Harry-yet-different, rests there, right there, where she is suddenly alive, knowing. How? No matter, it's there, like-Harry-yet-wonderfully-different. Sophie straddles the gardener's hips, cunt pressed sopping wet against the tip of her cock. Her hand curves around the penis, pulls gently upwards. She wonders how it would taste, in the hot cave of her mouth. Dreaming, her tongue flickers out, over her own mouth, then her lover's.

Take me. Go on. Swallow me up with your cunt. I know how it will be like. You'll be tight, almost too tight, but if you sink down and let your slick little honeypot wrap round my cock, my girl's cock, you can take all of me in. That's a good little girl. Come on, push. Look, I'll do it to, fuck you, like you're fucking me. Slowly. Only at first, then

Goodness, you're so tight, baby. Sophie. Oh, honey.

faster harder you fill me up all of you oh

Limbs quake. A prayer of hips, grinding against each other, cunt tightly clenches round cock, two lovers gasping into each other's mouths. Tongues tangle. Implosion. Sighs.



Miss Amelia's Vanity



I spent my undergrad years at Tulane, a history major. No, I didn't end up flipping burgers, but I did end up with an obsession about the French Quarter. As a well-traveled Air Force brat, I had lived in the U.S., Europe, South America, and Japan. I had a sense of regional peculiarities. Despite her origins, New Orleans felt like no other place on earth, and that's what captivated me. She had a life of her own, a melting pot of cultures seasoned to please just about everyone's palate.

Almost every weekend of my first two college years I spent wandering the Quarter, a quick streetcar ride from campus along St. Charles Avenue. I spent my share of nights face down in the gutters along Bourbon, but I also spent hours on end simply wandering. I got to know every Creole townhome and shotgun shack. Name any address and I can still visualize the street façade. 

It was on one of these meanderings in the late spring of my sophomore year that I discovered the home of Miss Amelia Theriot. A classic brick townhouse on Dauphine with a wrought-iron balcony over arched windows and entry; it immediately became a favorite of mine. After a few weekends passing it, sketching details, and taking notes for later research, I knew the front intimately. But not as intimately as I would eventually know the interior.

That Sunday afternoon, with the weight of pre-summer air soaked through my shirt, I stopped under the balcony for a moment of shade. I noticed a small note taped to the door. "Room for rent. Students preferred." 

I stared a full minute. My jaw dropped when I saw the price. It was cheaper than the dorms. If I didn't disdain clichés, I would have pinched myself to see if I was dreaming. I had just talked on the phone to my parents the week before about how I desperately needed to get out of the dorms. The relentless pounding music, late night ruckus, and ungodly stink of barely post-adolescent men without a clue about their future had worn paper thin. Fraternities promised more of the same, only on a higher budget. This note appeared as if I had rubbed an old lamp and received my one and only wish.

I looked down at my state of dress. My shirt clung to my skin, my shorts had grass-stains from a nap in Jackson Square, and my favorite old gym shoes sported paint splatters from recoating my parent's kitchen over Christmas break. In this state, knocking was out of the question. I wrote down the number and walked a block to a café where I borrowed their phone.

"Hello?" The woman's voice was curt, but pleasant. "How may I help you?"

I introduced myself and asked to make an appointment to see her room. She fired off a series of short questions and seemed to perk up when I said I was a history major. When I said her house was one of my favorites in the Quarter, she asked if I could come by in a couple hours. I would have to hop the streetcar back to my dorm, shower if I had time, change, and then ride back. It would be close, but I had a feeling about this place. I didn't care what shape the inside was in. I had to get out of the dorms and I desperately wanted to live in the Quarter. This was my chance.

At three o'clock sharp, I again stood at the door on Dauphine. After a short pause following the doorbells' faraway chime, I heard measured footsteps approach from the other side, quicker than the usual New Orleans lope. I figured they came from thin heels, tall from the cadence. I felt my breathing match up to the clicks as the last steps slowed on what I surmised to be a well-worn brick passageway to the courtyard.

The door opened and I faced a crisp woman in her thirties I guessed, dressed in a flattering white blouse, fitted with simple details, and unbuttoned to the point where I wanted to lean forward a bit. Between her blouse and as predicted high stilettos, a deep scarlet skirt molded over her graceful hips. This I noticed, without my eyes leaving hers. I didn't dare.

Dark, like chocolate candies, her eyes betrayed a spectrum of emotions that I sensed, with prescient accuracy, could swing from proper sun and smiles to anything but candy-sweet. Her smile though, held me aloft, ready to float after her. 

"You must be Grady," she said. "Come in. I'm Amelia Theriot." We shook hands. "You may call me Miss Amelia. Please close the door while I fix you a lemonade."

The heavy wood door thundered shut and I turned to follow her. Before she turned the corner, I couldn't help but notice how well her skirt fit. Like a dog on a leash, I padded after her, nearly panting in the rising heat.

My inner voice suddenly made me stop. "Grow up," it said. "This isn't some sorority sister to chase. This is the real world. An opportunity." Which I could easily blow if I acted like a horned-up cat. 

"Did I lose you?" I heard her say from the sunny courtyard ahead. 

"No, sorry. I was just admiring the ... wow!" The courtyard garden spread before me, a masterpiece. Brilliant flowers, bushes tall and squat, everything perfectly framing an aged stone fountain in the center. To the side, under the shade of a precisely trimmed understory tree, sat Miss Amelia, her tan legs crossed. She sipped from a tall, sweating glass. I felt a trickle down my back as well. No question. I had to live there.

Miss Amelia offered up a few minutes of polite small talk, further drawing out my personal history. Then she slid a two-page lease in front of me. I read it quickly. There were a number of rules itemized. Nothing unusual: no loud music after ten, no more than two friends over at a time, respect for the property, pitching in with cleaning, and providing two meals a week. She would cook the remainder. It sounded perfect.

The last line required a second reading. "Infractions will be handled expeditiously without appeal." I looked up at her. "Does this mean if I screw up I'm kicked out?"

Miss Amelia smiled. "Of course not, Grady. I'm a firm believer in second chances. We learn from our mistakes. You'll find whatever consequences I bring to bear are appropriate and fair."

I nodded, mesmerized by the way her lips moved. Yes, everything sounded perfect. "Great! Where do I sign?"





Miss Amelia's Vanity



She's never spanked me when I wasn't aroused and it hurt like hell. I protested and begged for her to stop but to no avail. I felt a tear well up, then another. Suddenly, she grabbed my leg and bent it up. She pulled the slipper off my foot and I felt the leather sole pop with a dreadful bite all over my already toasted rump.

"Stop, Miss Amelia. Please stop." I wailed, but she kept on. And on. Like never before. I'd never seen her so upset. It didn't make sense. "I was just making you breakfast," I cried.

She stopped.

Sobbing like a baby, I lay draped like a wet noodle over her silky thighs. That's when I realized I wasn't the only one crying. I tried to get up. She let me. She didn't even admonish me. I kneeled by her and lifted her chin. Every feature hung sadly. "Miss Amelia. What did I do?"

She lurched forward and took me in her arms. She didn't speak. We held each other tight, sobbing. I had received the news a month earlier. I was accepted at Harvard in their Graduate Art History program. Her Alma Mater. Her recommendation helped smooth my acceptance. We toasted, made love, celebrated. A happy day.

I had always planned to stay in New Orleans, maybe with Miss Amelia. We never talked about that. I guess we both assumed. Or at least I did. I knew I would go off to a different school. But then I would come back.

As we cried in each other's arms after my last spanking, only Miss Amelia was wiser. She knew my life would move on. Not just on, but away. One thing would lead to another, as it had when I first met Miss Amelia. She was always right.





Miss American Pie



If there ever was a country girl who was more American than apple pie it was Rachel. From growing up and living in a small town, to marrying her high school sweetheart Jacob, she was the picturesque model of a Midwestern girl. She loved cooking, listening to country music and above all, her husband. After graduating college together they purchased a small home and Rachel started her own part time photography business, while Jacob landed a job as a traveling irrigation system salesman. For a girl in her early twenties living in the heartland, Rachel was textbook, except for the voracious sexual appetite that she kept hidden from her husband.

Rachel didn't mind that her sexual interests and her love for her husband were two completely independent parts of her life. Her sexual curiosity started at a young age and grew as she did. After first learning how to masturbate, she found it hard not to do almost daily. Throughout high school and college she would secretly find ways to turn household objects into sex toys. Jacob, on the other hand, was the type of guy who saved sex for marriage so Rachel never felt she could share her sexual interests with him. Despite her early efforts in their marriage to spice things up, he always kept to his conservative roots and had no interest in anything but the basics. Even in marriage, Rachel saw her own sexual habits as a private little hobby. Any time Jacob was away for work, Rachel not only was consumed with endless rounds of masturbation, but she would regularly avoid wearing bras and panties privately around their home. The absence of underwear was exhilarating from the rush of air between her legs when wearing skirts to the feeling of fabric lightly running over her nipples. It so happened that during one of these times, Rachel accidentally answered the door for a delivery of photography supplies. Forgetting to put a bra on before answering the door for the delivery man and with a nearly see-through shirt, she discover how trilling it could for a stranger to gawk at her breasts, despite her initial embarrassment. Based on the encounter, Rachel now desired to be seen this way in public the next time her husband was away.

***

It only took one day after the incident with the delivery man for Rachel to come up with her plan. She was going to take an evening trip to her old college in the neighboring town while wearing the same thin shirt without a bra. She figured if her nipples were hard enough she could attract the attention of people walking by to her breasts, recreating the excitement she had originally felt. To Rachel's chagrin, Jacob went nearly a month without traveling, never providing her the opportunity for an evening at her old campus. As time passed, her appetite for being seen grew and her little plan evolved, becoming more risqué with every iteration. What started as a simple idea turned into her wearing the most revealing and indecent outfit she could put together.

When Rachel finally got the news of Jacob's next work trip, she was ecstatic. While his trips would normally last for days at a time, Jacob had an engagement, hours away, that would bring him home extremely late in the night. She wished it was a trip that would take him away for a few days, but she couldn't wait any longer and was ready to make her move. She would be cutting it close but it would allow her time to drive to the college campus at the right time of day.

"All set to go?", Rachel asked Jacob as he grabbed his things along with his morning coffee.

"I think so. I'll make sure to give you a call later today letting you know when I think I will be home tonight. It will be pretty late."

"I know. Take all the time you need. Have a safe trip!" Rachel placed a wifely kiss upon his cheek.

Jacob left in his truck, down their the stone driveway while Rachel peaked through the front window, pulling a lock of her dyed blonde hair behind her ear. Seeing him drive off down the long country road, Rachel raced to their bedroom. Her plan had made her so sexually anxious that she now felt the desperate need to masturbate. Digging deep into her closet, she unburied a lockbox hidden beneath a pile of shoes. Pulling a small key from a charm bracelet, she unlocked and opened the box revealing the tools of her secret sexual obsession. She reached for her favorite pink dildo. Falling to the floor in her closet, she hastily pulled her purple lace panties down her smooth legs, wrestling with them as they caught on her foot. She opened her legs with no regard for the white summer dress she was wearing and felt the cool air on her already wet pussy. Like thousands of times before, the pink dildo found its way inside her like a missile, easing the ache between her legs. She imagined her summer evening, wearing her most revealing clothes, allowing strangers to view her most intimate parts. Her legs shook as she repeatedly plunged the dildo between her legs. Her body quivered and writhed in pleasure with each breath she took. With a final thrust, an orgasm rolled through her legs like a tidal wave, temporarily quenching her sexual thirst. 

Rachel spent the rest of the afternoon tiding up the house before starting to bake a pie for Jacob. Seeing that it was finally time for her to prepare for her evening out she placed the unbaked pie in the refrigerator. Rachel quickly made her way to the bathroom to freshen up. After a shower, she straightened her soft hair letting it lightly flow over her sun kissed shoulders. She applied makeup, accentuating her full cheeks that harbored large dimples every time she smiled. With the opinion that lipstick was for city girls, she applied pink lip gloss, making her lips appear, what she called, kissable. Rachel moved to her closet and pulled out the thinnest white blouse she owned. It was completely sheer and one that she normally wore over another shirt. She pulled it on over her ample breasts, buttoning it up only enough to barely cover her rosy nipples. She had never worn a top that revealed so much cleavage but now found it freeing that she could clearly see her nipples through the shirt. By simply bending forward, she could easily see her breasts peak out from underneath her blouse in her mirror. Next, she reached for a navy skirt, it being the shortest one she owed. It was originally part of a sexy cop costume, but one she never wore because Jacob though it was too provocative to wear in public. Pulling it up over her hips she saw that it hardly covered her ass. She turned her back towards the mirror and bent forward, watching as the skirt began to ride up, slipping above her ass cheeks with almost no effort. Deep from her closet, she pulled out what she called her stripper shoes. They were black, six inch heals, with straps that wrapped around her feet. Jacob didn't even know she owned them as he would naturally disapprove. Rachel had bought them on her own and would wear them around the house to feel sexy when he was away. Slipping them on, Rachel stood tall and gave herself one final look in the mirror feeling sexy and empowered.

***

Rachel planned for her escapade to happen in the evening, figuring very few people would be on campus at this time of day, especially during the summer. She wanted to take this new adventure slow and remain in control of any situation she might find herself in. As she picked up her car keys, her phone rang. It was Jacob calling.

"Hey dear. How is everything?"

Rachel wanted to keep the conversation as short as possible. She had painfully been waiting for this opportunity and didn't want anything to keep her from her plan. "Oh it has been great!" Rachel said faking some enthusiasm. "I had a quick photography session with a client." She lied to make her day sound more interesting to her husband, "And I cleaned up a bit around the house. How was your day?"

"It was great. Got to meet a few new clients to day. They want me to finish up all the paper work so it looks like I will be home around 11PM."

"Don't worry about it. Hey, I hate to cut it short, but I have to get back to a client about planning a photoshoot. I'll see you tonight." Rachel knew this lie would work.

"Okay, Bye!"

"Love ya. Bye!"

Rachel ended the call and took one final glance in the mirror by the front door before leaving. Seeing her nipples through the white blouse and her pronounced cleavage sent a tingle down her spine.

Rachel drove to her old college campus in her rusted maroon sedan, the one she had learned how to drive as a teenager. With each minute that passed, her excitement grew as the warm summer air rolled in through her open car windows. She looked in the rearview mirror to check her makeup and caught a glimpse of her, now, green eyes. She had the kind that could look either blue or green, depending on the lighting and she always loved when they were closer to a shade of green, feeling it made her look more exotic. The familiar land marks on the way were now only indicators that she was speeding towards a new sexual frontier, which caused her to become more and more wet. Driving along the flat and open road lined with corn fields, she placed a hand between her legs and felt her wetness, pulling her hand out to smell her own beautiful scent. She had come to associate her own smell with her sexual hobbies, so, now it this moment, it excited her even more.

***

Rachel pulled into the small visitors parking lot at the far edge of the old campus. The college and the small town itself was a green oasis of trees and red brick buildings among the endless sea of golden corn that stretched for miles in every direction. At the very back of campus, away from all the academic buildings, was a forested area that was encircled by a running trail. The trail was an asphalt moat, separating the dense forest from the surrounding farmland on the edge of campus. Rachel was certain that it would be here she could find a someone to gaze upon her body. She turned off her car and sat for a moment while her heart picked up its pace. She opened the door and her heals connected with the newly finished, black pavement. She felt tall in her heals, normally being a girl that was just under average height. There were only a few other cars it the mostly empty lot. She tingled with anticipation as her heart fluttered in her chest. She could now feel a drop of her wetness running down the inside of her leg. 

Rachel walked to the back of the studentless campus. Each step she took away from her car caused her to become more and more nervous. Once she reached the trail, she stood in place and looked down, confirming that her nipples were still noticeable through the sheer fabric. With the blouse barely buttoned up half way, her breasts were inches from being fully exposed. She reached her hands around her ass and felt the bottom of the skirt sitting just below her ass cheeks, verifying it was just where she wanted it. Rachel took a deep breath knowing there was no turing back. She began a slow pace on the trail in her provocative shoes. Her plan was to walk the looping trail, until she she could passed a loan runner, stealing their gaze.

With the yellow sun starting to cast faint orange rays across the blue sky, Rachel saw her first encounter after ten minutes of walking. It was a younger looking man in gym shorts and a t-shirt, with the college's logo, running at a brisk pace. She pulled her blouse tight and cocked her shoulders back as far as she could, pushing her breasts out forward. With each step she took, the thumping of her heart shook her body from within. Approaching one another, she watched the jogger's eyes lock onto her breasts. Every nerve in Rachel's body ignited while she witnessed his gaze. Her nipples became hard and her pussy tingled as she let herself be on display. Rachel had never felt so alive before, not like this. The man slowed down and tried to keep Rachel in his view as long as he could without looking suspicious. After passing one another, Rachel let out a deep breath and could not do anything but smile. She could feel another drop of her juices running down her leg. Everything happened so quickly and Rachel needed more of this feeling.

After a few more minutes of slowly walking in her heels, Rachel spotted a second man in athletic wear jogging her way. She quickly undid a button on her blouse, leaving only the bottom two fastened. The wind passing by caused the blouse fall open exposing her full breasts as she intended. Her nipples being fully exposed caused her to feel a buzz. Rachel pretended not to notice and smiled at the man while he came into full view. His eyes found their way to her chest and another rushing wave of exhilaration engulfed Rachel's body. Adrenaline shot through her as she could only hear her heart, beating in her ears. She had just let a complete stranger see her fully exposed breasts. She felt warm and wonderful all over. The man nearly tripped, stumbling over his own feet while he passed her. The heat of the moment threw her sexual appetite into overdrive. This is so hot! I have to get off right now, she though. Waiting for the man to fall from her view she took off her high heels and quickly entered the woods along the trail, walking on the leafy ground, hoping that if she went deep enough, she could find the privacy she needed to masturbate.

***

After a short while of venturing, Rachel found a fallen tree which she sat upon after brushing some dead leaves away. The day light had started to fade and she felt it gave her enough cover, along with the green foliage to masturbate in private. She pulled up her skirt, letting her bare ass touch the rough bark of the tree and spread her legs as wide as she could. Placing a hand between her legs, she never could recall a time that she had been more wet. She had felt a few drops earlier, but she now realized the insides of her thighs were completely soaked from her drooling pussy. She finished unbuttoning her blouse, exposing her full body to the outdoors finding it to be very alluring. Rhythmically rubbing away at her clit, aided by her slick juices, she thought back to what the two runners had just witnessed. Her husband was the only other person to have seen her breasts fully exposed. Rachel's legs quivered as the tingling in her clit steadily began to increase in intensity. Her breathing was now a heavy pant as she held back pleasing moans. Her breasts quickly rose and fell with each breath while the crickets around her chirped in unison. Beads of sweat rolled down her face, tracing her neck, and running along her cleavage. Her entire hand was coated in her own juices as they continued to flow from her sweet, pink pussy. Her body heaving, her legs trembling uncontrollably, and a fire now raging from within, Rachel was ready to cum. 

The sharp snapping of a twig broke Rachel's focus and her eyes darted forward. Rachel saw the second man that had passed her was now in the woods and watching from afar. An intense shock wave of adrenaline penetrated her body leaving her feeling like she had unexpectedly been pushed into cold water. The man could perfectly see her exposed pussy while her breasts hung out for his viewing pleasure. Her heart was beating out of her chest while her entire sexual being forced her to continue as the man watched. Her muscles tightened, her back arched, and her legs moved with a mind of their own. The rubbing of her clit had now become a forceful act with her pushing as hard as she possibly could. The glowing tingle between her legs grew into an all consuming hum. Her body clenched as an orgasm hit, emitting wave after wave of pleasureful shocks through Rachel's body. Her toes curled and dug into the mossy ground and her body jerked with each pulse that radiated out from her clit. She could feel her juices surge against her hand as she continued to rub, realizing that she was squirting for the fist time in her life.

Rachel's body twitched as the pleasureful haze from her orgasm was extremely slow to leave her body and mind. The man, realizing the show was over, quickly ran off. Rachel sat on the fallen tree, wet from the waist down in an ocean of her own fluids, trying to catch her breath. She had never meant for anyone to watch her masturbate but had no idea how good it would feel to have an audience. She slowly stood up, gaining her balance and her breath and picked up her heals to make her way back to the trail. The sun had just finished setting and there was now very little light left in the sky. The outdoor lights around campus were all illumined with a brassy hue. She walked back to her car, with her blouse fully unbuttoned.

***

Once at home Rachel, took a quick shower to wash herself, realizing Jacob would be home in a little over an hour. Even though it was late at night, she took the time to curl her hair and apply a fresh layer of makeup for her husband. She put on a typical bra and a regular pair of panties followed by a red summer dress that almost covered her knees. She made her way to the kitchen and after letting the oven warm up, placed the unbaked pie from the refrigerator into the oven.

Rachel sat in her home, watching as the clock crept towards 11PM, still trying to comprehend what had happened. Her attention was brought back to reality by the a ding from the oven timer, signaling the pie had finished baking. Rachel saw the light from Jacob's truck through the window as he pulled in the driveway. Perfect timing, she though. She opened the oven and pulled out the freshly baked apple pie, setting it on the kitchen counter as Jacob entered the house.

"Hi honey! Sit down and I will cut you a slice of fresh pie", Rachel said with a glowing smile, happily knowing this would not be the last time he would be away for work.



Miss Anderson's IBS



This story is within the anal section. It consistently and continuously concerns variations on the theme of anal sex. If anal sex is uninteresting to you, and certainly if it is repugnant to you, then walk away! There are lots and lots of other stories for you to read that you would much prefer and very likely enjoy. The story also concerns themes of reluctance, humiliation, and exhibitionism. All persons in this story are at least eighteen years old. I most certainly hope that you enjoy it!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Miss Betsy Anderson had a lovely little anus. It was so wonderfully round and symmetrical, with the curled skin curving in parallel fashion around and around the tight teeny hole in the very center of that squinting eye, like waves directing a finger, a cock, or anything else that might wander in too close, down into the deep, dark, tight black hole of delight.

Hollywood film stars are often compared with respect to the prettiness of their faces. Hollywood and adult film stars are often compared with respect to the size, fullness, and roundness of their breasts. Perhaps only adult film stars are compared, openly and publicly, with respect to the perkiness, tautness, and roundness of their bottoms (Nina Hartley was often said to have the best), and some are even compared with respect to the loveliness of their most precious feminine parts, their cunnies. But it's difficult to find anyone comparing them with respect to their little brown stars. Even the Buttman hasn't done so (as far as I know). In any case, if there ever was a beauty contest for anuses, Miss Betsy Anderson would surely win.

But, she didn't feel that way about it. In fact, she had not really given it much thought at all. It took a young man, one of her students, to awaken her to its loveliness and full potential.

Robert Duffs came to Miss Anderson with a problem, a very serious and difficult problem and, not surprising for such problems, a rather personal and embarrassing one as well.

He wasn't even too sure he should approach her about it. It wasn't like Miss Anderson was an expert in that area. She was just his anthropology teacher. There really wasn't anything about anthropology that made one think about anal sex, was there?

But, Miss Anderson had always said that the door to her office was open to any student with any concern, and she emphasized the word "any." She recognized how difficult college life could be, leaving home for the first time, away from one's parents, away from parental support and guidance. Plus, many young men and ladies are not that particularly comfortable talking to their parents these days.

Miss Anderson embraced this role of the faculty member of a small college. She had been told when she was hired that her job would be not only to instruct the students as to anthropology, but to also serve as their mentor, their advisor, their model. Upon stepping onto the Templeton campus the student became part of the Templeton family. The goal of the college was not just to educate a student's mind but also a student's character. No student should ever feel reluctant to talk about anything to any faculty member. On the contrary, the doors should always be open.

"And what is indeed troubling you, Bobby," Miss Anderson asked in her most comforting and reassuring tone.

Robert choose to approach Miss Anderson because he figured she was one of the more liberally-minded faculty members, which perhaps isn't saying a lot at Templeton, as it was a rather conservative college. All of the students even had to wear a traditional school uniform. The girls wore white blouses with black ties, plaid skirts that had to go below the knee, white socks, black shoes, and, of course, white panties and bras. The boys wore white shirts, black ties, black slacks, and black shoes. None of the girls were even allowed to wear perfume, or excessive jewelry or substantial make-up.

Miss Anderson though appeared to embrace a more liberal, open-minded view of the world, or at least it seemed that way in some of her social constructivist lectures, talking about the different mores of different cultures, how it was not appropriate to apply the values of one culture to another, that all viewpoints, all perspectives, should be mutually respected.

"Well, it's kind of difficult, Miss Anderson," Robert quietly explained, his eyes trained on the floor, watching himself nervously shift his feet.

Miss Anderson smiled. A shy young man can be so cute. He did look rather vulnerable, and so much in need of her help, her understanding. "Now, Bobby, you can tell me. I'm your professor. You should always feel comfortable speaking to your professor."

That was good to hear. "Well, it's just, that, well, Miss Anderson, Nancy Andrews and I have been dating for quite some time now." He lifted his head up to look her in the eye. "She's my girlfriend, you know."

"Is she really, Bobby? I had her in my class last semester. She's a very pretty girl."

Robert blushed and averted his eyes. Nancy was very pretty, and it was nice that Professor Anderson noticed that as well, but somehow that made it even more awkward to discuss his concern. "Yes, well, um, you know, we decided that we were not going to do it..." His voice got even quieter, "go all the way, you know, until we got married."

He looked at her again, waiting for an affirmation of their pledge of abstinence.

Miss Anderson smiled. "Oh my, yes, well, that's just wonderful, Bobby. I'm sure your parents are very pleased with that." Miss Anderson was also sincerely pleased to hear it, and she knew that so would the Templeton administration. Templeton was indeed a very conservative college.

Robert smiled, finding her affirmation a little surprising. It didn't quite fit his liberal image of his anthropology professor. "Yes, well, um, but..."

"But what, Bobby? You said, 'but'?"

This was going to be so difficult to say, to admit, to confess, and yet he could even feel a swelling within his briefs as he thought about saying it. But, he did really have to say it. "Um, well, I was thinking, that, um, well, if perhaps it would be okay to do other things, you know, things that aren't like, going all the way."

"Oh," Miss Anderson replied, her own voice now a bit quieter as well. She could feel her heart racing. Well, she had said that she would be very, very happy to talk to any student about any topic. "Yes, well, what precisely do you mean?"

Robert's face grew red. Precisely what he meant was precisely the problem in saying it out loud.

Miss Anderson tried to help the boy. "Do you mean..." Her voice again dropped, "masturbating each other?" Her own face reddened, and she cursed herself for that. She really shouldn't have difficulty talking about such a thing with a student. Her lectures did occasionally concern sexual mores and customs. It was rather shocking what some primitive tribes will do! But, this was a bit different. This was more personal, more intimate. It lacked the dispassionate scientific coldness of an academic lecture.

"What? Oh! Um, no, no, not that, not really, well, sort of, but not really."

Miss Anderson was confused. Sort of but not really? What did he mean by that? Maybe frotteurism, rubbing their bodies together with their clothes on? She felt that was kind of unusual but it's rather common in some Asian cultures. "Well, Bobby, how do you sort of masturbate?"

Robert's face reddened further. This was turning out to be more difficult than talking to his mother about sex! Perhaps it was in part that Miss Anderson was herself so pretty. She had lovely round green eyes, long flowing dark hair, long eye lashes that often fluttered, and a very sparkling smile. She always seemed so gay and cheerful. Her breasts were a bit on the small side, as if that should in fact be important to a student. On the other hand, Robert did often notice that her bottom was so perky and round. He briefly wondered if that was why he had come to her, but certainly not consciously so. It was though clearly why he stiffened a bit as he considered speaking to her about it. "I didn't mean it like that, Miss Anderson. It's just that there are, you know, other things you can do."

Well, they were at least getting closer, and Betsy was not liking what she was hearing. "Bobby, you don't mean..." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Oral sex?" She did in fact disapprove of that. It was fine and legal for other women to engage in such things, but she would not do that herself. It just seemed rather disgusting to have a man's penis in your mouth. Gracious, he urinated with that thing! And, what if he in fact ejaculated! She shivered just thinking about that.

"What?! No, no, not that, Miss Anderson," Robert explained, sort of. The fact was, he and Nancy were already masturbating each other and performing oral sex. Doing those things was not like having real sex, so they figured. She was still a virgin if they confined their activities to the hand or the mouth. But, he wanted to step it up just one more notch.

Now Miss Anderson was really confused. She was glad to hear that they were not having oral sex, although she wouldn't raise a strong objection if they were. The kids these days were doing all sorts of things and if that's what it took to remain a virgin until marriage, well perhaps it was alright. "Yes, well, that's good Bobby, but what could it possibly be if not with the hand or the...mouth?"

Robert provided the answer, albeit very quietly. "It's anal sex, Miss Anderson."

"What?!" Now, that she found surprising.

"Um...anal." He didn't care much for the fact that she made him say it again.

Miss Anderson cleared her throat and then responded, "Nancy wants you to have anal sex with her? But she's such a pretty girl!"

"Oh! Um, no, no, she doesn't. Well, she might, she would, if I wanted to. I was just thinking that maybe that would be, like, um, well, okay. It's not like it's real sex, is it?" (see "The Lessons, Chapter 22").

"You would put your penis in her bottom."

'Geeez,' Robert thought, 'Do I have to draw her a picture?' "Um," he answered, about as quietly as he could, essentially whispering, "yeah, I guess."

"Bobby, that's disgusting!" Miss Anderson was indeed shocked. Using one's hand, or even one's mouth, was understandable, but anal sex?

Robert was shocked as well, but it was his teacher's shock that he found so surprising. "But, you said an anthropologist respects alternative values, different perspectives."

"Bobby," she patiently explained, "I do indeed respect alternative cultures but social constructivism doesn't mean that one does not oneself have any values or mores. You can, of course, do as you please. You are eighteen years old, and so is Nancy, but if you want my opinion, then it would have to be a firm 'no,' that would not be acceptable, at least to me."

"Well, why not?"

"Bobby, anal sex is, well, it's just wrong. I mean, gracious, it's inherently filthy. Just the thought, well, it's disgusting. You can't see that?"

"Golly, Professor Anderson, given what you've said in class, I just thought, well, that you would be, well, more understanding, more accepting of alternative ways, you know, of, well...doing things."

"Bobby, gracious me, one should not assume that all anthropologists perform anal sex, or even oral, for that matter. As an anthropologist I do respect the right of other cultures to make their own choices, choose their own values, but you must then also respect mine. Respect for the opinions of others doesn't mean you necessarily agree with those opinions." It was no coincidence that Betsy Anderson was a faculty member at Templeton College.

"Yes well, I did want to know how you felt about it. I mean, that's why I'm here."

Betsy was feeling very glad that he had come to her, as he had clearly misunderstood her lectures and was potentially heading down a very wrong and dangerous path. "Yes, well, frankly, Bobby, I think any such thing might be a big mistake."

"Really?" He had been so hoping for a more open-minded attitude from his teacher, but perhaps he shouldn't have been. He so much wished he had gone to a different college, a place like Abberville, where he heard that students even went to class naked! Of course, that really couldn't be true (see "Naked at College"), but he couldn't imagine any college being more conservative than Templeton.

"Well, son, I mean, it is still sex, isn't it? Is it not a form of sex?"

"Well, yes, I know, but it's not real sex. It's not intercourse. The girl remains a virgin."

"She does indeed, but there is still physical contact between a boy's, I mean a man's, sex organs and a woman's..." Her face flushed at speaking so bluntly with the young man. She averted her eyes.

"A girl's anus is not a sex organ, is it, Miss Anderson?"

"Well, no, no, I suppose it's not." Was that a valid point?

"It's like oral sex. That doesn't count either."

"Now, Bobby, you're just fooling yourself. You in fact just said it yourself. Oral sex is most certainly sex, as is anal sex. A girl's anus is not a sex organ, perhaps, but then all the more reason not to use it as one!" She regretted raising her voice, perhaps losing some of her professional, dispassionate objectivity. It's just that she felt so strongly about this.

"Well, I guess so." She was probably right. In the back of his mind he knew that was true. He was just trying to convince himself that it would be alright.

"And," Miss Anderson added, "it's not even normal sex. It's in fact a very dirty, filthy form of sex, involving, must I say it out loud? Where you go poop!" She could feel her heart racing. She just felt so agitated. "Gracious, it's probably a perversion or something."

"Well, golly, Miss Anderson, I don't know about that."

"Robert, if you go through with this you may regret it for the rest of your life. You will debase and degrade a very lovely young lady. Could you really look her in the eye after you have done such a thing to her?"

"Well, I wouldn't do it if she didn't want me to."

"Bobby, Nancy might in fact agree to such a thing because she is afraid of losing you. Girls will do that. Trust me, she won't really want to do any such thing and, someday, she may come to resent you for making her do it. Please, you must get such horrendous thoughts out of your mind. In fact, I think it would be best for you to schedule an appointment with Dr. Lowenstein, the counselor."

"Dr. Lowenstein? Are you sure?" He really didn't want to do that. He didn't think he was mentally ill or anything like that.

"Absolutely. She specializes in the sexual dysfunctions and perversions of young men, and ladies. I think she would be very helpful for you."

"Well, if you think so."

"Yes, yes, I most certainly do. In fact, I'll be happy to schedule an appointment for you."

"No, no! No, that won't be necessary. I can do that myself."

That was certainly true. Betsy realized that was probably going too far. She just felt that it would be such a big mistake for Robert if he did such a thing, and Dr. Lowenstein was indeed a well regarded specialist in sexual perversions (see "The Cornhole Championship" and "Teddy Visits a Therapist"). "Well, alright then, Robert, yes, of course, you can set up your own appointment." She got up from her chair, signaling to him that this discussion should now probably end, or at least she wanted it to end. She found it rather discomforting, to say the least.

"Yes, of course, Miss Anderson. I will do so," he replied, getting up from his chair as well, following the teacher to the door, his eyes following the sway of her bottom within her tight skirt. Such a shame, he thought.

"And, be sure you do, Robert. It's really quite important."

"Yes, ma'am, of course, of course," he promised, as he exited the office.

Miss Anderson closed the door quickly behind him. She needed to be alone. Thank goodness that the young man had come to her for advice rather than acting impulsively on his perverse urges. She shivered at the thought of such an act.

She did not consider herself a prude. But, was she? She was an anthropologist, for goodness sake! Why was she reacting so strongly against another person's simple sexual preference? Perhaps she was...No! No, no, not at all. Such acts are by their very nature wrong, and perverse. 'Gracious,' she thought as she returned to her desk chair, 'just the thought of a man sticking his erection up a woman's butt, up her butt for goodness sake, was so disturbing, so wrong!'

She instinctively clenched her sphincter as she considered such a thing, as if to express her adamant opposition to any such act, albeit at the same time feeling the nerve cells of her anus activated by the clenching. She shivered again.

'My goodness,' she thought, 'that's where a woman, where I, well, poop. Wouldn't his thing get all dirty and nasty with you know what?' She just couldn't stop thinking about it. It was so disturbing, so loathsome, so disgusting.

'Would a man also use his fingers on her anus, exploring and caressing her butt hole, poking around, maybe even sticking it up inside?' Her face flushed a deep red as she thought about that. Picking one's nose is bad enough. She hated it when she saw a man do that. And this would be her butt! She would assume that he must wash that finger immediately afterward, before he again touched her, but that would be awkward in the middle of making love. Well, clearly though it would not be love making that would be going on anyway; far from it.

She turned her attention back to her work. She had quite a number of papers to grade.

But, soon her mind returned to the disturbing image of a man actually having sex with a woman, down there, back there. She squirmed in her chair, feeling an unnerving itch or tickle within her anus. She wasn't quite sure how best to describe it.

Would a man actually kiss it? He kisses your lips when he makes love. Some men, perhaps, will kiss your cunnie when he makes love, at least once in awhile. She would never ask, or expect, a man to do that though. She shook her head, imagining a guy actually kissing her there, on the anus. It was really unimaginable, or at least too disturbing, even sickening, to imagine. "Oh my gracious," she exclaimed out loud. She rubbed her bottom against the chair, trying to get rid of that disconcerting itch.

The rest of the day continued that way. Perhaps not as intense as it had been for the first few minutes after the young man had left her office, but her mind did return again and again to that act, that abominable act.

Nor did it help that she had that recurring odd sensation down there. It was perhaps just a result of repeatedly clenching her sphincter in disgust, doing so only drawing her attention back to it. She was reminded of when a friend warned her, perhaps too late, that she was pulling up a vine of poison ivy. Her friend wasn't sure it was poison ivy but it sure looked like it.

For the rest of the day and into the evening she kept feeling an itch on her hand. She dared not scratch it, but not doing so made the itch last longer. She kept checking for a rash to explain the itch but no rash ever developed. It didn't help when she was told that the rash may not develop for days. Her hand probably never before itched more during those days, and for no apparent reason other than her preoccupied, ruminative mind.

Well, it was like that now, but a different sort of itch. Her butt hole would suddenly itch, or perhaps it was a tingling, or a tickling. She would squeeze her sphincter to get rid of the annoying sensation. If she was sitting down, by herself, she might even squirm her bottom against the chair.

But, it didn't seem to help. Did she in fact have a rash on her anus? That could not possibly be true. It was an absurd thought. Such a rash was not only ridiculously rare for a healthy, active human being, it would also be absurdly coincidental.




Miss Anderson's IBS



But, perhaps she had developed a rash psychologically. She recalled as an undergraduate reading in psychology that persons can develop rashes through stress. Maybe she had in fact developed one on her anus? Goodness, imagine going to a doctor about that! What could be more embarrassing!

Heck, she couldn't even imagine herself checking, bending over in front of her bedroom mirror to inspect her anus. Of course, that wouldn't likely work as she wouldn't be able to look very closely.

She suddenly realized that she had never before in her life ever seen her anus. How weird is that! Is there any other part of her body she hadn't yet seen? Not really. Even her back she had seen many times in a mirror, as well as in photographs of her when swimming or sunning.

She had seen her butt. She in fact felt she had a pretty nice bottom. She had looked at that in the mirror a few times. But, never for very long. She embarrassed herself by doing something like that for too long. She didn't feel so bad about admiring a lovely new hairdo, how pretty she looked after putting on her make-up, or even the firm, round shape of her breasts. Admiring her bottom though seemed a bit silly, if not rather inappropriate.

In any case, she had never bent over in front of a mirror so that her cheeks might part, and she most certainly had never spread them herself so that she could see her anus. It would be so weird to do that, but yet it also seemed so weird that she had never even seen it before. She did now wonder what it looked like, but blushed at having such a thought.

When she got home she rushed to the bathroom, unclasping and unzipping her skirt as she did so. It wasn't to take a look at her butt hole, it was to apply some moisturizing lotion. That might help with the irritating sensations.

She tossed her skirt into her bedroom as she sped by, then tore down her panties when she got to the bathroom and reached for the lotion.

She hesitated before she applied it, looking at herself in the mirror. Perhaps this was an overreaction. There really wasn't anything wrong with her anus. It was obviously all in her head, just compulsively intrusive thoughts.

Perhaps, but it wouldn't hurt to at least apply some lotion, and it might in fact help. She chuckled as she recalled her application of Calamine lotion to her hand when she thought she might have poison ivy. That had been a false alarm, and this most certainly wouldn't be any different.

She watched herself in the mirror, squatting down to the point that her face was out of sight, which was fortunate as she imagined that she looked rather silly, if not obscene, squatting like that, naked from the waist down.

She applied some moisturizing lotion to her index finger, a nice big glob, and then while holding onto the towel bar with her left hand she reached underneath herself to apply the lotion to her anus.

She gasped as she felt her finger touch her there. It was, after all, the first time she had directly touched her finger to her anus (without the protection of bathroom tissue). It was really quite surprising.

She hadn't realized how sensitive her anus was, how so many nerve cells must be there. Of course, she had wiped it a number of times each day but it never felt like this before. This time was strangely different.

She rubbed in the lotion, hoping that it would heal the itch.

It did feel good. It was like that sensation one has when one scratches an itch. It feels so soothing, so relieving. She didn't want to stop.

It was even more than soothing, as it was in fact distinctly pleasant. There was this tingly, ticklish, titillating sensation. Really very, very nice. She closed her eyes, her breathing deepened, her heart rate accelerated.

She spent much more time applying the lotion than she really needed. She wondered if perhaps she should get some of it inside. If there was a rash on her anus it could have also spread to inside her rectum, couldn't it?

That was absurd though and she knew it. She quickly removed her finger. She knew she was just about to discover what it would feel like to stick her finger up her butt. She felt ashamed of herself for having such an impulse and she got back to her feet and immediately washed her hands, that offending finger in particular. She couldn't even look at herself in the mirror.

She went to her bedroom to put on a fresh pair of panties and sweat pants.

The lotion though did seem to help, although she also wondered if it was the massaging of her finger rather than the lotion that relieved her distress, her urge. Whatever the reason, she went to sleep that evening with a sense of calm, of resolution, and she felt so good about that.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Her doorbell rang. Someone was at the door. There was nothing unusual about that, but she had an odd premonition as she approached the door. She only opened it a crack, lodging her foot against it, just in case it was a home invader.

But, it wasn't. It was instead a rather friendly, good looking salesman. A salesman?

She hadn't seen a door-to-door salesman since she was a girl. She recalled the visits by the Avon salesmen her mother used to get, or was that her grandmother? "Yes, can I help you?"

"Good afternoon, ma'am, a very lovely day, isn't it?"

She sighed with frustration. Salesmen never get straight to the point, probably knowing that customers will then immediately express their disinterest in their product. They first tried to establish some pleasant relationship, making it harder to break it off. "Yes, yes, it is. What is it that you want?"

"If I could just have one minute of your time, young lady."

Young lady? Nobody had referred to her as a young lady for years. "Well, I am a bit busy," but she couldn't recall precisely what she had been doing just before the bell rang, nor what she might do once he left.

"This won't take any time at all, ma'am. Please, if I might? I promise you won't regret it."

"Yes, well, alright, just a minute." She was surprised that she was letting him inside. Wasn't that dangerous? Well, not likely. He clearly did have a large traveling case. It was really quite big, obviously filled with samples of his many products.

"I'm sure you will find it to be a minute well spent, young lady. In fact, I guarantee it."

Miss Anderson smiled. How could he guarantee that? She opened the door all the way and led him into her living room.

She sat down on the couch. He stood by his case, introducing himself as Mr. Stagliano, expressing the usual pleasantries about what a wonderful house it was and how lovely she kept her home. He did then get to the point. He opened up his case, unzipped the covering on the right hand side, and displayed his wares. It was an array of cleaning products.

Betsy smiled. It was like she was in an episode of The Twilight Zone, going back some thirty years. Nobody did this anymore, did they? The only door-to-door salesmen she met these days were kids selling things for a school trip, or handymen offering to do yard work or home repair. Cleaning products? 

The gentleman went through a series of products, none of which she really needed. He would at times even provide a demonstration, intentionally spilling something on her coffee table, or even her rug, much to her apprehension. She was impressed though at each respective product's effectiveness, reminding her of those infomercials on television. But, even if this gentleman's products were as good as those on TV his prices were much worse. He apparently did not have the wide customer base that television provided.

Betsy felt sorry for him, and she considered buying at least some of his products just to be nice, but she just didn't need any of them. Plus, they were so ridiculously expensive. She was apologetic, but there just wasn't anything she wanted to purchase. Plus, she was feeling quite uncomfortable as she was experiencing another "anal attack" and was occasionally squirming her bottom on the couch.

"Well, alright, alright, I understand." He looked resigned to a sorry fate. "I s'pose I should just give it up. I just can't push the product anymore, just can't develop a client base."

Betsy again felt sorry for him. Perhaps the stain remover? It was impressive what it did with the ersatz stain he had created earlier.

He looked at her hesitantly and added, "I do have another line of product."

"You do? Oh, well, I suppose..." That was disappointing to hear. She had felt that she was finally rid of him. She was going to buy some of the cleaning fluid and have him be on his way, becoming a burden for some other woman. But now he was going to start all over again? It certainly hadn't been a minute; well past that in fact.

"Um, these are rather, well, a bit more personal."

"Personal?" He's not going to offer some feminine hygiene products, is he? She would most certainly just cut him off if that was the case, and then purchase the cleaning fluid.

"If I might ask, ma'am, have you been suffering from any irritating, frustrating burning, itching, or tingling?"

"Excuse me?!" What a question for a man to ask a woman? It was uncomfortable enough to see those feminine hygiene adds on television when she was watching with a gentleman friend. She was now having a man, a stranger, asking her directly about it? "Most certainly not."

"Oh? Oh, well, I must have misunderstood."

"Misunderstood? Excuse me?"

"Well, you were squirming there a bit when I was showing you the cleaning products. That's often a sign of a problem."

Betsy blushed. Was she that obvious? Apparently she was. She wondered what her colleagues, and students, might have been thinking the previous day. The itching and tingling had bothered her during a late afternoon meeting with the Dean. Her face grew a bit red.

"Is it an anal or a vaginal irritation? I specialize in the treatment of anal irritations, but I do have a few products for the vaginal."

Betsy looked away. This was really quite embarrassing. But, she had to admit, it was precisely what the doctor would order. Was it not a piece of good fortune for this salesman to stop by? Should she really pass up the opportunity? She was also within the privacy of her home. It might in fact be considerably less embarrassing to speak to him about it than to go through all the trouble of actually going to a doctor, speaking to nurses, assistants, and everyone else about it.

The salesman was apparently quite experienced at his work. He suggested in a very reassuring tone, "It's anal, isn't it, miss."

She nodded, keeping her eyes averted.

"Yes, yes," he nodded, sympathetically. "The anal irritations can be the most difficult but, rest assured, Miss Anderson, I will have precisely what you need." He then unzipped the other size of his case.

Betsy's eyes opened wide as she gazed upon the products. There were a variety of lotions, many of them probably much more effective than the one she had used the previous evening. That was rather encouraging. But, there were also a number of oddly shaped devices. Some were cylindrical, some were egg shaped, some were round, and they varied considerably in their size. Her face reddened as she considered what they might be used for. "Oh my," she softly exclaimed.

"Yes, quite an impressive selection, don't you think, Miss Anderson?"

"Um, well, yes, I guess," she acquiesced, not really knowing for sure what she was in fact seeing.

"Now, first, I think you might consider some lotions, ointments, creams. These can be really very, very helpful to a young lady."

She had to admit that she was curious about the creams and ointments. The lotion the previous evening had been helpful, but she could not help but think it was just her finger scratching the itch that did the trick. She said very softly, "Yes, well, um, if you have one to suggest, um, I would be willing to consider it."

"Well, precisely, ma'am, what is the nature of your sensations? Is it more of a tingling, an itching, or a tickling?"

Betsy blushed. It did make sense that it would be important to know the specific nature of the sensation but, frankly, she didn't feel she could describe it so precisely."Well, sir...'

"You can call me, John, Miss Anderson."

Actually, she would prefer to keep the appellations more impersonal, more formal, given the nature of the conversation. "Yes, well, um, I'm afraid, um...John, I can't really say which, you know, is more common. It's more like a mixture of all of them."

"Yes, yes, I understand," the man confidently asserted, as if he fully understood the woman's precise problem, as if her admission of ambiguity was itself highly informative. "I believe I have exactly what you need," he said, reaching into his case and removing a small vial of clear ointment. "I suspect this will do the trick."

Betsy reached for the product and tried to read its label, but she couldn't make sense of it. It wasn't that it was in a different language but the words seemed unintelligible. "Yes, well, alright, I'll try this. How much is it?"

The man chuckled. "Whoa! Don't be in such a rush. I can't have one of my customers purchasing a product that hasn't been proven to be successful. Let's see if it first works, alright?" He retrieved the vial from her hand.

"What?!"

"Certainly, certainly. I wouldn't want you to purchase a product that was in fact ineffective."

Betsy was mystified, although it was hardly any different than all of his other products, for which he had forthrightly first demonstrated their cleansing power. She supposed she could apply some of it, in the bathroom, and then let him know if it helped. It would be a but embarrassing but perhaps it was true that it might in fact be worthless. That would be good to know before she purchased it. However, she hardly wanted to go through a series of trials. Well, maybe the first one would work. "Alright then, I'll, um, give it a try." She held out her hand for the vial.

"Excellent! Kneel up here, on your couch, and we can give it a try."

"Excuse me?!"

"Oh yes, it's best that I provide the trial application. I can demonstrate the precise amount to use. Plus, I can observe for myself its effectiveness and, if it doesn't work, I will be able to diagnose the problem and offer a better choice that best matches your precise need."

"Mr. Stagliano."

"John," he corrected her.

"I really don't think I can have you do that." Was he being serious?

But, he just chucked, as if it was she who was being ridiculous. "Now don't be concerned. I have done this many, many times, and have never had an unhappy customer yet."

"Yes, well...," she continued to object.

But, before she could articulate her argument he added, "And, rest assured, we will only expose to view the anus. Your feminine modesty will be entirely protected."

Betsy rolled her eyes. It was certainly decent of him to keep her cunnie covered but that hardly diminished the embarrassment.

"It's not a sexual organ, ma'am, the anus. It's not like you're displaying your breasts or vagina, if I might be so bold as to say."

It was indeed very bold of him to so openly say such a thing, but he did have a point there, didn't he? Or, was that the point she made to Bobby? Or was that Bobby's point? She felt terribly confused. "I really don't know."

He got up from the couch, apparently not going to take no for an answer. He took her hand and drew her from the couch, and turned her around. "Now, why don't you get on your knees here, on the couch. You can rest your face comfortably on a pillow, over here," he instructed, gesturing toward the left hand side of the couch, "your knees here," he gestured toward the center of the couch.

Betsy followed his lead, feeling a little dumfounded that she was doing so. But, he had apparently done this with many women before. Apparently what she was about to do wasn't at all unusual. And, it would be so, so nice to gain release from this burden, relief from the recurrent irritation. She got into the position he instructed, her face pressed down into a pillow, hiding within it to cover her embarrassment, her bottom up in the air.

The salesman observed. "That's a very fine skirt, Miss Anderson. Quite pretty and it rests along the curves of your derriere very nicely."

Betsy replied, her voice muffled by the pillow, "Oh, yes, well thank you." It seemed a bit odd for a salesman to compliment the fit of her skirt along her bottom, but hardly any odder than to be positioning herself like this for him.

"I must say, it's almost a shame to lift it out of the way," but he did precisely that, drawing her skirt slowly up her thighs and over her bottom.

Betsy lifted her face from the pillow, her eyes widening in shock. Of course, this was what he said he would do, but the distressing reality became more evident, more vivid, as it actually happened.

He rested her skirt over her back. How could she let him do this, she wondered. "Ooooooooh," she whimpered as she realized that her bottom was poking up high in the air, clothed only in her panties. She was grateful though that she was wearing one of her more prettier panties. They in fact matched her dress: white with daisies sprinkled all around.

"Oh, and very lovely panties as well, Miss Anderson."

"Thank you, Mr. Stagliano," she quietly whispered.

"John," he again corrected her, patting her bottom.

Betsy didn't respond. She just felt so mortified but also, she realized, very, very excited. She could feel her cunnie warming, perhaps even moistening, and even worse, or better, depending upon one's perspective, a tingling of her anus. She was reflexively squeezing her sphincter. Perhaps it was good that her anus was acting up when he applied the ointment. That would provide a good test of its effectiveness.

"Oh Mr. Stagliano," she moaned as she felt the salesman slip his fingers under the waistband of her panties. She squeezed the pillow against her face with her hands. Has he really done this with other customers? It just seemed like such a strange thing to consent to.

The salesman slowly pulled Betsy's panties down, very gradually drawing into view the sweet curves, the pale ivory skin, the delightful crack of her womanly derriere. He could not help but smile. It was not very professional of him but what man would, or could, not smile at such a sight: a woman's naked perky fanny poking up in the air. It just seemed to be begging for a spanking, or at least an affectionate caress. But, being the true salesman that he was, he didn't take advantage of the customer. He carefully parked her panties just below her anus. Her feminine slit modestly hidden from view.

"Well, let's first take a look at this little bugger," he suggested as he leaned over and reached for her cheeks.

Betsy turned her face, freeing it from the pillow. "Oh goodness, must you look at it, sir?"

John patted her now bare bottom with his right hand, chuckling at her embarrassment. "Well, gracious, Miss Anderson, of course. I must have a good look. Perhaps I will discover that you would be better suited for a different brand."

"Yes, yes, I imagine so. It just seems so shameful." She bit her lower lip and braced herself for the salesman's anal examination.

John held the ointment in one hand as he used the other to spread open Miss Anderson's cheeks. He nodded as Miss Anderson's puckered, brown curly hole came into view. "Yes, yes, I see the problem."

Betsy's face felt so hot, but she was pleased to hear that the man could see the problem. That was a big relief. "You can see it?"

"Yes, yes, I see it very, very well. It's most definitely a very active and excited anus."

"Excuse me?"

Mr. Stagliano deftly opened the cap on the small vial with one hand, still holding onto Miss Anderson's cheek with the other. He squeezed a small dollop of ointment directly onto Miss Anderson's pretty little brown star.




Miss Anderson's IBS



"Ooooooh," she cooed as she felt the cool ointment drip onto her anus. She concentrated on relaxing her sphincter. She didn't want to fight the medicine. But, she instinctively clenched her sphincter when she felt the salesman work it into her curly skin with the tip of his finger.

"Just relax, Miss Anderson. I do want to make sure that you get a comprehensive and thorough application."

"Yes sir," Betsy meekly replied, but it was so difficult as it felt so very, very intrusive.

"My gracious!" she squealed as she felt the salesman's thick finger suddenly force it's way up inside. Her face jerked from the pillow, a stunned look on her face.

"Almost done, Miss Anderson, almost done. I need to make sure that some of it gets within the interior lips of the anus. Must be thorough, you know." He smiled as he felt the woman clench tightly on his finger with her sphincter. It was like she was hugging him with all her might, although he knew that it was instead a fruitlessly belated effort to deny him entry.

"Okay," Betsy meekly acquiesced, but she questioned whether he really had to work his finger around and around within her rectum. Nobody had ever stuck a finger up there before, not even herself. She felt so embarrassed, if not appalled.

But, it did feel kind of nice as well. It felt so wrong, yet so stimulating, so exciting. Her squeezing of his finger was shifting away from protest and more toward embracement.

The salesman though suddenly removed his finger, making a loud popping sound. It didn't sound like a fart but making any noise with one's butt hole was rather embarrassing. "Sorry," Betsy apologized, another wave of blood rushing to her face.

The salesman again patted her bottom for reassurance. "It's a very natural response. Now, let's see how well this ointment works for her," referring to her asshole as if it was a girl.

Betsy sighed deeply with relief. The intrusive probing had ended, and now the medicine would begin to work. She felt she sorely needed it as her anus had never felt so excited before.

The salesman used both hands now to spread open her cheeks. He studied the woman's butt hole as he waited for its reaction.

"Please don't look at it, sir," Betsy pleaded.

"It's fine, perfectly fine, Miss Anderson. I'm sure you'll appreciate it."

"I hope so, sir," she responded. She waited for the tingling, the tickling, to stop, to dissipate and then disappear altogether. It would be so, so nice to find relief.

But, suddenly the sensations escalated dramatically. The medicine was having an effect opposite to what she had expected! Her anus was not calming, it was becoming even more intensely aroused. She was reminded of a shampoo she had once used. She thought at first that she might be having an allergic reaction, until she read the bottle afterward and noticed that it was supposed to be "refreshing" and "invigorating." "Oh my goodness," she softly exclaimed.

"Yes, yes, you can feel it?"

The sensations escalated further. It was like every little nerve was sparkling and tingling with excitement. "I think there's something wrong, sir, " she gasped. "It feels even worse!"

"Worse? You don't feel anything?"

"Feel anything? My goodness, it's like it's on fire!" Betsy couldn't help but to repeatedly squeeze her sphincter, her bottom wiggling and squirming, trying to put out the fire, sparkling flames burning every anal nerve ending until it felt like her asshole was engulfed by some erotic fire.

"Well, yes, of course, perfect," the salesman calmly replied.

She turned her face back to him. "That's what it's supposed to do?!"

"Of course, of course." He softly caressed her wiggling bottom. "Very, very potent ointment. I have an even stronger one, if you wish."

"But I wanted you to make it stop tingling!"

"Of course, of course, but first we need to really get it fired up so that you'll appreciate when the fire is quenched."

"Well, put it out now, goodness gracious!" She felt such a strong urge to stick her finger up her ass to try to put it out herself, rubbing her finger around and around to clean up the offending ointment, but she could hardly do that in front of him.

"Absolutely, ma'am. I think you'll really love this." He reached into his case to retrieve one of the plastic objects. It was oblong in shape, very smoothly rounded on the tip, about six inches in length. He slipped it off it's cuff and guided it to Betsy's butt hole. "Hold still."

Betsy was reminded of when her mother was trying to put some antibiotic on a scrape on her elbow. She just couldn't hold it still, feeling so bad and anticipating the worst.

The salesman wrapped his left arm around her waist and firmly held Betsy's bottom still as he abruptly and rather impolitely jammed the plastic butt dildo up into Miss Anderson's asshole.

"Oh my gosh!" Betsy exclaimed, her lovely round green eyes now as wide as they could possibly be. What the heck was he doing? What had he stuck up her butt?! Had he really stuck something up her butt? Well, quite obviously he had, and she was totally dumfounded. "Sir, Mr. Stagliano, John, please, what have you done?"

"Just relax, Miss Anderson," he replied, as he began to softly, slowly, slide the dildo in and out of her butt. "You will soon find relief. Remain calm."

Remain calm? She was far from calm. She buried her face in both her hands and the pillow, trying to block out of her mind that a strange man had stuck some plastic thing up her ass, and was now in fact slowly squirming it around and around as he slid it in and out of her rectum, fucking her so terribly inflamed asshole with it. This was just so wrong, so offensive, so dirty, so filthy. She pleaded, "Please, sir, enough, I think we're done. I'm fine. You can stop."

"Yes, yes, just a bit longer. I think it's coming along," he said in a calming, soothing voice, as he continued to butt fuck her with the little woman's helper with one hand, fondling and caressing her cheeks with the other.

Betsy stopped struggling, hoping against hope that he was correct, feeling so mortified, so shamed, so inflamed.

And then warmth, even heat, began to develop elsewhere. It was like the fire was spreading, down past her asshole to her more uniquely feminine part, her cunnie. "Oh my gracious," Betsy softly exclaimed into her hands, wondering what was happening to her, but clearly knowing. She was become now very, very excited, sexually excited, and he wasn't even touching any one of her sexual parts. He was instead just working a smooth plastic device in and out of her rectum, her anus tingling with fiery sparks, her cunnie swelling, moistening, beginning to burn as well.

She removed her hands from her face to slip her right hand down back beneath her body, back to her cunnie. She had such an irresistible urge, actually need, to touch, to caress, to forcibly rub her clit.

She certainly could not ask him to do it, and she so hoped that he would not see, would not notice, her doing it, but once her fingers made contact with her now equally inflamed nub she couldn't care less what he saw. She just had to have relief and she ground her fingers round and round against her clit as he did likewise with his butt fucking plastic dildo.

"Oh my goodness," Betsy gasped as she felt her orgasm suddenly sweep over her body.

She woke up, gasping and panting, her body wracked in the throws of her engulfing climax, her body writhing and squirming on the bed, her cunnie leaking feminine juices as if she had in fact wet herself. Betsy tightly squeezed her thighs shut, trying desperately to shut down, to turn off, the escaping flood of her orgasm, so embarrassed and ashamed over the content, the reality, of her dream. How could that have happened? How could she dream such a thing? Yet, the dream had clearly occurred, and her reaction was just so shameful, yet it was impossible not to enjoy the fully engulfing waves of her climax coursing through her body.

When it was done she lay in her bed, her face again buried in a pillow, but this time for real. She felt so confused, so distraught. She felt like getting up and having a drink, something to calm her mind, erase from her memory what had just happened. It was just so wrong, so weird.

It took a good deal of time for her to fall back asleep, so worried that she would again be stricken by another such dream.

When she awoke the next morning though she felt better. It was a new day. Yesterday had been such a strange and disturbing day, but each new day brings new promises, new hopes, a new beginning. She even felt a bit refreshed, revitalized, despite the fact that she had actually slept less than she usually had due to that horrifically disgusting nightmare. She shivered as she thought about it. But, still, she did feel reinvigorated, perhaps now rid of that embarrassing itch. The fire had been put out. It now barely scratched even the surface of her mind.

It was indeed all behind her, so to speak. She even managed to chuckle about it. It had indeed been a very odd period of time, but today was a brand new day.

She smiled as she felt the water of the shower spraying against her face. She always enjoyed that part of the morning.

She washed her hands, her arms, her feet and legs, her face, her breasts. When she got to soaping her bottom Betsy was reminded of the moisturizing lotion she had applied there before she went to bed. She now realized that it was probably the lotion that had caused the dream. That actually made good sense, and it would make even more sense to thoroughly wash it off. She slid the bar of soap down into the crack of her bottom. She felt a little apprehensive about doing that, although she would always, of course, wash herself there anyway and even had a much greater reason to do so now.

She should, of course, be sure to thoroughly clean her anus. 'A clean anus is a happy anus,' she giggled to herself. She rubbed and rubbed the slippery bar of soap against her little butt hole, sighing deeply with satisfaction at the knowledge that she was getting it all so thoroughly, completely vanilla fresh.

Yes, washing her anus was surprisingly so, so pleasurable. It just felt so good to get it all so perfectly squeaky clean.

It didn't feel like she was doing anything wrong, anything dirty. After all, she was cleaning herself, washing herself, in fact washing and cleaning very thoroughly her most dirtiest spot. Her mother would most certainly feel good about that. And, it was really so nice to be enjoying it so much!

She even started applying her finger tips directly to her anus. You really can't do a good cleansing unless you get your fingers directly into the job and work the soap suds in. She whimpered softly as her finger tips made first contact. It was a little startling and unnerving. It was such a weird place to touch herself, yet it felt so titillating, so arousing, so exciting. She carefully worked the soapy lather all over and around her puckered little butt hole, making sure that it was all very good and clean, all the while giggling as the warm, cleansing shower splashed across her face and shoulders. She had probably never before enjoyed more her morning shower.

She squatted down, got her finger all covered with suds and soap, and then slipped it right inside. She surprised herself. She had done it. She had actually done it. She had stuck her finger up her butt. But, it wasn't anything sexual, of course. She just figured she should be sure to get it clean inside as well. Some of the lotion had probably worked its way in there. She had to be sure that she got it all spic and span, so clean that a young man could eat off of it. Well, that was probably going a bit too far.

She worked her finger around and around within her rectum. It felt so funny inside, and her sphincter clung so tightly to her finger, like it was trying to hold it tightly in after trying so hard to keep it out. She sighed with deep satisfaction and pleasure. This just felt so good.

She brought her other hand to her soft, squishy little breast and squeezed it, at the same time flicking her thumb against her erect nipple. Her nipples always became erect when she took a shower, but they seemed especially stiff and cheerful this morning. "Mmmmmm," she softly moaned as the shower spray continued to rain down upon her.

She shifted her hand from her nipple to her clit as she tried to stick her finger as far up her butt as possible. She was no longer deluding herself into thinking that she was just washing herself. She was instead fucking herself, fucking herself up the butt. It was most certainly a very shameful and perhaps despicable act, but there was still some consolation that it was being done within the cleansing spray of her shower, within the bathroom, where dirty, filthy acts occur and can be absolved.

She fell onto her back within the tub, her legs splayed out, the spray now hitting her across her breasts, tickling and tingling her boobs, some even making direct hits on her sensitive nipples, as she frenetically diddled her clit with the fingers of her left hand as the finger of her right screwed itself all the way up into her butt, being able to go no further but exploring around deep inside like a little curious snake.

"Oh my, oh my, oh my," she gasped with each breath and wiggle of her finger. It was just so, so fucking good and her body suddenly trembled, her pussy squirted, and her sphincter crushed her finger. She was now getting her relief, her release, and she gave herself fully over to her orgasm. It was a most perverse way to cum, but once cumming it just felt so good, so right, so wonderful. She hooked her finger in her rectum to maximum the feel of its presence, pressing it against the back side of her cunt, as it shuddered with her climax, perhaps wondering itself what was going on, why it was her backside that had received all of the attention, yet itself climaxing, quivering, on an empty chamber.

"Oh please, oh please, oh please," she gasped, her finger and thumb clenching and pinching her nub, sliding down deeper into the tub, the shower now bathing her face, her mouth opening wide, imagining that it was cum raining down upon her face, a very appropriately debasing and denigrating bathing for such an obscenely perverse act.

When the climax passed she just lay there for awhile, catching her breath, slowly regaining her composure, still feeling her finger deeply lodged up her rectum.

She eventually, slowly, carefully withdrew her finger, whimpering as she gradually slid it from her sphincter, perhaps now only becoming fully conscious of how deeply it had been lodged. Once fully removed she retrieved the bar of soap, averting her eyes from her finger, imagining that it must be covered with a disgusting filth. She very thoroughly washed it, and not only once, but twice, and then a third time, and even then feeling reluctant to include that finger in the subsequent washing of her hair.

It had been intensely enjoyable, relieving, satisfying, and fulfilling, but now that the climactic orgasm had passed she was faced once again with her more natural feelings of guilt and shame. She had masturbated, and in a most dirty, despicable, disgusting fashion.

She finished her shower and tried to forget what she had just done, vowing to never do it again. She was though relieved to find that there was no "episodes" all through the morning. She was again feeling better about herself, and her chances for the future.. 'Thank goodness that was over,' she thought. So many times in her life she had suffered an illness, as all people do, and so often she couldn't help but wonder when she would recover, imagining if this was it, if this horrible state would be her perpetual future, that it would never end. What would life be like then? Could she tolerate it? Could she go on? But, invariably, so far at least, the illness did end. 'This too shall pass,' was her mantra whenever she became sick, whenever she suffered significant injury or setback. And, once again, that had proven to be true.

There was a smile on her face as she crossed the campus in the early afternoon, on the way to her class, to provide her first lecture on South American tribes. Her day of work was almost done.

But, she then saw Robert Duffs heading to her class as well. It was only from a distance, but that short body, slight frame, and tousled hair, were clearly recognizable, and as she paused to watch him quickly stride across the commons, as if he was trying to get away from something. She was again stricken with a tingling deep down within her cheeks, within her anus. Her problem had resurfaced.

"Oh no," she softly whimpered. She glanced around for something, or perhaps even someone, that might help her. She backed up against a tree, and then subtly shuddered as it made contact with her rump. She shifted to another tree, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. She had to find the right one, a relatively younger sapling, not so thick that it wouldn't fit within the crack of her ass, but not so young that she would just push it over. She shoved her butt hard up against her eventual choice, driving it in between her butt cheeks, squeezing hard with her sphincter, trying so hard to drive the sensation from her body as she drove her asshole against the tree. She even bent over a bit, not so much that it looked too obvious but enough perhaps to get her anus right against the rough, scratchy bark, her long flowing hair falling away from her body, hiding her flustered, agitated face. But, as soon as contact was made, once she obtained a bit of relief, she realized that her position and her movements, were a bit unusual, perhaps even disturbing and, besides, she did have a class to teach.

Her lecture that day was quite difficult. She could not look Robert in the eye, for each time she did she felt another tickling itch within her butt hole, as if she was being bit right on the anus by a mosquito, perhaps even by a bee, causing her at times to squirm or twitch.

Of course, she couldn't just reach down and slip her hand under her skirt and give herself a scratch, at least not while she was lecturing her students. She did again try repeatedly squeezing and clenching her sphincter. That did help a bit, but not for long. The itchy tingling would just return a few minutes later.

She even backed her backside into the corner of her desk, and sat down back against it, forcing the sharp corner deep into her crack, trying to look casually disinterested and indifferent, not wanting the students to notice that she was in fact trying to scratch, to rub, her asshole against the corner of her desk, but it wouldn't work. She just couldn't get the corner deep enough inside her crack, the dress perhaps being too tight, the fabric too thick. In order to really be able to relieve herself that way she would have to bend way over and jam her ass back hard against the desk corner, and that would most certainly be a bit disconcerting to the students.

In fact, sitting back against the corner of her desk only seemed to exacerbate the problem, as if she was just flirting with but never receiving a good anal scratch and rub, just tickling her anus rather than giving it a good polish and grind.

By the time class was over she was a squirming, wriggling mess. It probably looked to many of the students that she had ants in her underpants, or more likely that she just had to go to the bathroom really, really bad.

Miss Anderson knew that she had to do something. She could not go through another evening, another night, nor another afternoon, like she just had. She had to seek help and she vowed to do so immediately.

She decided to seek medical treatment. The medical profession had to have something for her condition, wouldn't it? Nobody has something wrong with them that hasn't happened before. Our bodies are not that unique. They must have seen something like this before. It would be a bit embarrassing, of course. Anytime she sought treatment for a vaginal condition she felt rather embarrassed. It was the exceptional woman who wasn't the least bit self-conscious about it, and this could be even worse.




Miss Anderson's IBS



She went to a local Urgent Treatment Center. She could not seek treatment from her regular physician. His next available appointment would not be for at least a few weeks. It always struck her as rather odd that she had a regular physician who could never see her when she was in fact sick.

She could go to the campus clinic. Being a professor they would see her right away. But, being a professor she really felt very uncomfortable seeking treatment there. She could not risk her records being seen by students who were employed there. She could not risk the facts of her condition leaking out into the campus rumor mill.

She could perhaps go to an emergency room but very clearly this was not a life threatening condition. She was not in any physical danger. It perhaps fell most closely under the realm of an urgency. She was most certainly feeling a very urgent urge.

But, once she arrived at the clinic she did have a moment of doubt. What does she put down in the box asking for her complaint, her symptoms? She wrote down "anal itching," and blushed profusely as she handed it back to the receptionist who, fortunately, didn't even take the time to read it. She was most concerned about whether she had adequate insurance coverage.

With a sigh of relief, knowing that she was probably doing the right thing, that she would soon be relieved of her problem, Betsy sat down in the waiting room, scanning around to consider her immediate competition for urgent medical care. There was quite an assortment of persons. She spotted some clear wounds and rashes, some colds, perhaps some fevers, all of whom were eventually called back for an examination. Betsy waited, and waited, and waited, and waited.

Betsy wasn't sure why she was not being called back. It seemed like some persons who had come in after her had gotten back into an examination room before her. Perhaps there was a nurse doing triage, who naturally determined that a fever or an injury was more urgent than an itching anus. She wished she had written something else down, for more reasons than one.

It became so uncomfortable, perhaps because all that was on her mind now was the burning, itching, tingling of her anus, for which she could find little relief within the waiting room. She clenched her sphincter, but could not help squirming, which made her wonder if the others waiting there were wondering what her problem was. They would not likely, of course, guess correctly, but it was of little consolation that they probably figured she had some sort of gastrointestinal problem.

Fortunately, finally, her name was called and she was brought down to an examination room, where her blood pressure and temperature were taken by a very sweet and friendly nurse. But, this sweet nurse did ask for the reason for her visit, and Betsy had to admit that she was experiencing some discomfort with her anus.

"Oh!" the nurse replied, not able to hide her surprise. "Well, um, the doctor will be in shortly."

Shortly though was not a particularly accurate estimate of the amount of additional time she had to wait. She waited in the examination room an additional 45 minutes, all for an examination she figured would last only about five to ten minutes.

But, perhaps the very brief period of time spent with the doctor would be a blessing. Her doctor was a rather handsome, fatherly looking man, which she was uncertain was good or bad. He asked, "What seems to be the problem, young lady?"

Betsy smiled. Nobody had called her a young lady for quite some time, if one didn't count the traveling salesman in her dream. But as she was about to say why she was there her face reddened. She couldn't tell him that. She wondered if it was a mistake to have even come to see a doctor. "Oh, um, well, it's nothing really. I shouldn't waste your time. In fact," she suggested as she began to get up from her chair, "why don't you just bill me and I'll be on my way."

"No, no, please dear, Miss Anderson, sit back down. Don't be concerned. I'm a doctor. You can tell me anything you want and it will be entirely confidential and," he chuckled as he added, "believe me, I've heard quite a few things in my life."

Betsy wasn't sure if he was chuckling over the silliness of her concern, or amusement over the concerns of past patients. Would he someday chuckle with another patient, thinking about her problem? Well, she really didn't have much choice. She had come this far, she might as well tell him what was troubling her. She took a deep breath and softly confessed, "It's my, my...my anus."

The doctor kept a straight face. He was a professional. He was a bit surprised though at hearing that this woman had a problem with her anus, although that was what she had written on the intake form. Surprise turned to curiosity, a professional curiosity. This could be a most interesting malady, which would nicely spice up what was usually an otherwise very routine day of sprains, colds, fevers, and rashes. "Yes, well, please continue."

"Um, yes, well..." She hesitated, her face reddening, "I have this odd sensation there."

"Sensation?"

"Yes, um, it's kind of difficult to explain. It's um, sort of an itch, or a tingle. I really can't tell which. I put some lotion on it and it felt better, at least for awhile." She realized that she had left out the part about the salesman's ointment, but then recalled that experience had been only a dream.

"Well, that's good, responding well to the lotion."

She supposed she should tell him that she also felt that the temporary improvement might have been due as much, if not more, to her finger than to the lotion, but she wanted to leave that part out.

"Yes, well, it's an unusual form of IBS but let's take a look at it, shall we?"

"Oh! Yes, yes, of course," she responded. It was an obvious request. He did have to look at it. No doctor could diagnose a problem without actually examining it.

The doctor though could see her apprehension. "Would you like a patient robe?"

By that he meant one of those rather uncomfortable, thin cloth robes, open in the back. She didn't really want to change into one of those. "No, no, that's fine. But, um, well...uh, if you don't mind, I just wondered..."

"Please? What?" The doctor inquired as he washed his hands.

"Well, um, shouldn't there be a nurse here?"

"Yes, yes, of course, if you wish. We can do this later. It's just that she's doing some physicals for the little league. We offer rather inexpensive physicals. This being a UTC we don't have a lot of staff on hand. You can wait until she's done. I certainly don't mind. I just don't know when that will be. You probably though should go back out to the waiting room. I'll need this room for the next patient." He delayed putting on his examination gloves.

Betsy most certainly didn't want to wait any longer. Gracious, how much longer would that be? "No, no, it's fine," she decided, as she reached under her skirt to remove her panties, slowly pulling them down her thighs, all the way to her ankles, and then stepping out of them. As she stood back up straight, panties in her hand, she asked, "Should I remove the skirt?"

The doctor studied it. "It is a bit tight, but we'll manage. Why don't you just pull your skirt up and over your bottom, lean over the examination table, and we'll just take a look at it."

"Yes doctor," she softly replied. What is it with this "we"? It's him who is having a look at it. She pulled her skirt up to her hips, which wasn't that easy as he was correct that her skirt was rather tight. She had to wiggle and squirm her hips and bottom a bit to get it up. She should have gone home and slipped into something more casual. Of course, it's not always easy to know what's best to wear to a doctor's office.

It did at least help that he wasn't studying her bottom as she worked her skirt up. In fact, he didn't seem at all interested or curious. Not a very complimentary reaction from a man when a woman raises her skirt, but certainly suitably professional for a doctor. Once her skirt was entirely over her bottom she leaned over the examination table, feeling rather vulnerable and exposed.

But, she soon became even more exposed.

"If you would, Miss Anderson, reach back and spread your cheeks for me. That would be very helpful."

"Yes doctor," she meekly replied. She reached back, grasped each cheek with a hand, and pulled them apart, as if she was wantonly and brazenly displaying her asshole for the world to see and ponder. It wasn't, of course, for the world. It was just for one man, but it still felt awkward and weird.

"Hmmmm," the doctor said as he seemed to meditate on the sight of the lady's puckered little butt hole.

It is, of course, assumed that doctors have no sexual thoughts, feelings, or fantasies about their patients. After all, they are professional doctors. It would be wrong, unethical, immoral, and a violation of their Hippocratic oath to have lascivious thoughts about a patient. More specifically, they vow "in every house where I come I will enter only for the good of my patients, keeping myself far from all intentional ill-doing and all seduction and especially from the pleasures of love with women." Of course, that doesn't specifically rule out enjoying the sight of a pretty woman's cute little butt hole.

In addition, the primary precept for the physician is primun non nocere, or first do no harm, and it would most clearly be quite harmful to destroy the Hippocratic myth and have patients realize how much the doctor enjoyed examining his patients' lovely bodies. The myth was perpetuated really for their benefit, for their protection to do no harm.

Doctor Welby smiled, safe in the knowledge that Miss Anderson could not see his face, his reaction, enjoying the sight of her tightly curled anus. It even seemed to be winking at him, as she nervously squeezed her sphincter.

"Does it look alright, doctor?" Betsy asked, shifting her legs, finding it quite difficult to keep her bottom from squirming, at least a bit, being so closely scrutinized by the doctor.

"Miss Anderson, I don't really see anything at all wrong with it. It looks quite normal to me. Frankly, even more than normal."

"More than normal?" How could a butt hole be more than normal?

"Well, yes. It's so symmetrical, so nicely round, and the curls are all so evenly spaced, parallel, and proportional. Frankly, Miss Anderson, you have one of the finest, prettiest, little butt holes that I've ever seen, and I have seen quite a few."

Betsy again blushed, but this time for a different reason. The salesman had also been complimentary but that hardly counted, being a dream. And, this man was a professional. "Well, um, thank you, doctor," she softly replied, suppressing a grin.

"Do you feel the tingling, the itching, right now?" he asked, leaning in closer, his eyes just an inch away.

"Yes sir, actually," she confessed, "I do." Betsy could feel his breaths on her skin, just below her asshole, which meant right on her cunnie pouch. Nobody's face had ever been that close to her butt hole before, and it really felt so wrong, so weird. She again instinctively squeezed her sphincter, hoping that wouldn't complicate his examination. She suddenly felt that she might in fact have some gas. She squeezed even tighter. Oh it would be so, so bad to fart right now. Has that ever happened to a doctor before?

"Hmmmm," he again said, pondering the pretty woman's butt hole as he reached down to give his growing erection a squeeze. He finally announced, "Let's see if we can find anything inside."

"Yes, doctor," Betsy agreed. She had been dreading this part of the examination, but she knew it would be necessary. She continued to hold open her cheeks as the doctor looked for something he needed, feeling rather foolish doing so but feeling she should remain prepared. She looked around the office herself, trying to find something interesting to look at, trying to distract her mind from the fact that she was spreading her cheeks open.

The doctor opened the door and called out to someone in the hallway. "William, do you have the anal speculum?"

Betsy looked apprehensively back at the doctor, over her shoulder, still keeping her cheeks spread open. She couldn't hear William's answer but apparently it satisfied the doctor.

He stepped back from the door, leaving it partially open.

"Uh doctor," Betsy quietly said. "Do I need to keep..."

"It's fine, Miss Anderson, William apparently has the speculum. He's on his way. He won't be long. You just sit tight."

"Well, alright," she replied, and let go of her cheeks.

"Oh! No, no," the doctor corrected her, giving her a reassuring pat on her bare bottom. "You best keep them spread apart. We don't want the sphincter to tighten up."

"What? Oh, um, yes, of course, doctor." She reached back and again spread her cheeks open, looking back apprehensively at the partially opened door. Couldn't another patient walk by and see her like this? She turned her face away. If one did she wouldn't want to know about it, or possibly be even recognized.

The doctor was at least right that William didn't take long. He soon arrived, knocking on the door to announce his arrival but not waiting for an answer. He pushed the door open the rest of the way holding in his hand the missing anal speculum, his eyes quickly going to the open cheeks of Miss Anderson. "Here it is doctor. I was just trying to figure it out," he said, handing the speculum over to Dr. Welby but keeping his eyes on Miss Anderson's pretty little rosebud, as well as the sweet cunnie pouch and feminine lips beneath it.

Miss Anderson looked back over her shoulder, her eyes widening in concern. William was a rather young man. He didn't look to be a doctor at all.

"Oh, well then, why don't you just stay, William." He turned to Miss Anderson. "You don't mind, do you, dear?"

"What? Um, well, actually, I really..."

"Excellent, excellent. This is really quite opportunistic, to say the least." He turned back to the young man. "William, this is Miss Anderson. She is a professor at Templeton College." He turned back to the teacher. "I believe it's anthropology, isn't it, Professor?" He believed that was what she had written for her profession on the intake form.

"Um, yes sir," she timidly replied, feeling her face redden. Can't they please just get on with this? She didn't really need, or frankly want, any introductions.

"And, my gracious," the doctor added, "You two have a lot in common as William is a student there, pre-med."

"Oh, well, um, that's nice, that's very nice, William."

William tore his eyes away from the professor's blinking anus and made sure to look at her directly in the eyes. Hopefully she hadn't noticed him ogling her butt hole. "Yes, thank you. I don't think I've taken any of your classes, though, Miss Anderson."

"No, no, I guess not." Thank goodness for that!

He asked as he stepped up closer to her, feeling an erection beginning to develop within his slacks, "Maybe I will though, next semester. What are you teaching then?"

"Um, well, um. I don't really know," she quickly answered. "The schedule hasn't yet been prepared." This was a rather awkward conversation, to say the least, discussing her class schedule with an undergraduate, while spreading open her cheeks for him to inspect her anus. Not surprisingly, she was not being forthright about her schedule. She was going to teach three classes, but she certainly didn't want to give him any ideas. Imagine having an undergraduate in your class who had been observing your butt hole while you spread your cheeks open for him. No, she much preferred that he take someone else's class.

"Oh, well, that's a shame. I imagine you're a very good teacher."

On what basis was he imagining that? Because she had spread her butt cheeks open for him? It was probably though just a polite pleasantry, like when people greet you by asking how things are going or how you're doing. She sometimes felt that some didn't really care to know, particularly if it's not going well.

The doctor interrupted their polite chatter. "You've just turned eighteen, haven't you, William?"

"Oh yes, yes, of course, Dr. Welby."

"Yes, well, I just wanted to reassure Miss Anderson here that we weren't employing any underage pre-med interns. That wouldn't be appropriate now would it, Miss Anderson," he chuckled, turning back to his patient, "with you spreading open your bottom cheeks like that."

"No sir, I wouldn't think so," she agreed, not quite sharing in the humor of the situation.

"Well," the doctor finally said, "let's do get on with the examination. Miss Anderson, with the two of us here I think it would be best if you hopped up onto the examination table."

'Geeez,' Miss Anderson said to herself, 'he couldn't have realized that sooner?' She finally let go of her cheeks and crawled onto the narrow soft table, protected by a long swath of wide white paper. "Um," she said, turning her face back to the doctor. "How do you, what position do you, um, want me in?"

The doctor briefly pondered what position would be best to inspect, and enjoy, his very lovely patient. She would really be quite peachy in a variety of positions, but there was really only one that was best for the anal examination. "Why don't we have you get on your elbows and knees, your bottom as close to the edge of the table as possible. We will get in between your legs. That way both of us can have a look."

"Yes sir," Betsy meekly replied, and twisted around, trying to make sure that she didn't tear or wrinkle the paper cover as she did so. Somehow this whole experience was beginning to resemble her dream the night before, or at least she was beginning to feel that she was in a similar dream and was about to wake up. And, worst of all, perhaps, just like in her dream, she was beginning to feel her cunnie getting warm and tingly. Much as she found this all so embarrassing, if not humiliating, it was precisely for that very same reason she could feel herself getting excited, and aroused.

She shifted as close to the edge of the table as she could, and thrust her bottom out at the two men. It was a very good presentation, offering ready access to her very fully curved tush which was being rather boldly displayed. It was almost like there were two large white beach balls crushing against each other, yet unable to hide the anus and vagina, which were very fully exposed.

"You know, in this position," the doctor observed, "I'm not so sure Miss Anderson really needs to spread open her cheeks."

Well, that was at least something, she thought.

"But, just to be on the safe side, why don't you reach back again and part those pearly gates." He always felt that a little humor helped to relax his patients, make what otherwise might be a difficult examination more informal, perhaps even playful.

Betsy reached back and once again spread open her cheeks.

"Now, first we will have to apply some lubrication. William, would you like to do the honor?"

"Me? Well, golly, sure, Dr. Welby. Yeah, that would be great!"

"Now don't sound too enthusiastic, young man. You're liable to give Miss Anderson the wrong impression." He said it in a joking manner but he was indeed concerned about giving her the right impression.

"Oh, yeah, sure, sure." William put on a pair of examination gloves, all the while studying the eventual target of the ointment.

As he did so, the doctor explained the situation to his intern. "You see, William, Miss Anderson has been experiencing some unusual tingling and itching on her anus."

Betsy's face reddened again. At least they couldn't see that, although she would most certainly prefer they see her pink face than her pink anus.

"But, frankly, so far, I don't see really anything wrong with it. As I told her myself, I kind of think that this is one of the finest little puckered butt holes on a patient I've seen in years."




Miss Anderson's IBS



"Well, I really wouldn't know, Dr. Welby," William acknowledged. "I really haven't seen that many."

The doctor chuckled. "Well then, you're in for a treat here. Now, squirt some of that lubrication right on that little curly curl and we'll get down to business." He turned to Betsy. "This will be a little cold at first but it will soon be fine."

"Okay," she timidly replied. "Thanks," she added, for the warning.

"Oh!" She nevertheless yipped as the very cold ointment dripped right onto her hot puckered butt hole. She reflexively squeezed on her sphincter.

"Now," the doctor instructed the young man, "be sure to work it in real good. Even push a bit of it inside. Get her really nicely lubricated." He turned to his patient. "We wouldn't want Miss Anderson to feel at all uncomfortable now, would we."

"Mmmmm," Betsy whimpered as she felt the young man place his soft finger against her anus, pressing it around and around, working the slick, slippery ointment into all the little crevices of her curly anal skin.

"Oh yes, yes, I believe she does like that," the doctor suggested, noticing the soft whimper in her voice. He turned again to his patient. "It does feel rather nice, doesn't it, Miss Anderson."

"Yes, I guess so," she softly admitted.

"That might itself be a bit diagnostic, actually," he added. His mind beginning to explore additional possibilities for the teacher's distressing symptoms. "Now press your finger right in there, William."

"Yes sir," the young man replied and pushed his finger right into the professor's butt.

"Mmph," Miss Anderson grunted as she felt the intruding finger shoved up inside.

"Just relax, Miss Anderson. We'll be done in a second." Turning back to William he instructed. "Work it around in there real good, William, like you're screwing it in."

"Yes sir," William replied, feeling very happy to do so. None of his girlfriends had ever let him screw his finger around in their butts. If being a doctor was like this every day, then he was most certainly making the right career choice. He smiled as he turned and twisted his finger around and around within the pretty professor's asshole. Her teaching schedule was apparently not set for next semester but he would definitely look it up later himself. He wasn't particularly interested in anthropology but it would be darned cool to take a class from a pretty teacher you had finger fucked in the butt. She would have to give you a good grade for that, wouldn't she?

Betsy's bottom was indeed squirming and wriggling around, much to her embarrassment and their pleasure. It didn't take a medical degree to appreciate that Miss Anderson's squirming was an expression of her evident pleasure at being fucked up the butt by the young man's finger.

The doctor in fact noticed a gathering of moisture along the woman's vaginal lips. He discretely pointed that out to the intern, not wanting to embarrass the professor.

William smiled. It's always a great source of pride for a young man to be able to bring pleasure to a woman, and this was even an attractive, older woman, a professor at his college no less. And, most of all, it was especially impressive to do so by just working one's finger in, out, and around the pretty professor's rectum and anus. He brought his thumb into the action as well, caressing the outer curls and folds of her anus as he continued to wriggle his finger around inside.

A soft, involuntary groan escaped Betsy's lips and she began to more overtly, lewdly humping the boy's finger, as if it was a cock she was trying to fuck.

"I think that's enough," the doctor announced, not wanting this examination to get out of hand. "I believe you have Miss Anderson's anus sufficiently lubricated, William."

"Yes sir," he responded, with evident disappointment. He slid his finger out, feeling Miss Anderson trying to hold onto it with her tightly clenched sphincter.

The doctor picked up the anal speculum. He considered having William insert it but he felt that the young man was perhaps not quite ready for that. He positioned the three tightly closed rounded prongs at Miss Anderson's anus. "Now, you will feel a bit of pressure here, Miss Anderson, just do your best to relax, like you're letting yourself evacuate your bowels."

"Yes, doctor," she whispered, not appreciating the reference to a very personal, private matter. The last person to ask about her poops was her mother, many, many years ago. "Ungh," she grunted as she felt the doctor slide, if not shove, the prongs up inside her butt.

"Yes, no problem at all, no problem at all. You can let go of your cheeks now."

Well, she was very grateful for being able to do that.

As the doctor gently but firmly pressed the prongs further inside, he inquired, "Have you been inserting things in here, Miss Anderson?"

"No!" Miss Anderson emphatically denied. She had never done anything remotely like that and she found the question a bit offensive and appalling. "Never!" At least outside of her dreams, she hadn't.

The doctor wasn't so sure that his patient was being forthright. Her denial was unnecessarily and unusually strong. It might just be difficult for her to admit to it, perhaps especially so with the young male intern in the room. He softly squeezed the trigger of the speculum, the three prongs gradually spreading open, slowly spreading wide, wide open Miss Anderson's anus.

"Oh my goodness," she exclaimed, taking a firm grip of the table top cushion with her hands. This was a very odd and disconcerting feeling indeed! It was not only rudely shameful, having her rectum opened up so boldly to two men, it also just felt so oddly uncomfortable and troublesome, like she suddenly had no control over her sphincter and movements whatsoever.

"Have you had your bowel movement today, Miss Anderson?"

Must he ask about that?! Although she clearly understood why he was asking. "Yes, yes, I have," she gasped.

"Was it a good solid poop? Anything unusual, anything out of the ordinary?"

"No, no sir," she firmly, but softly, asserted.

"Good, good, that's very good," he said as he studied the inside of Miss Anderson's rectum. "Would you like to take a look up Miss Anderson's butt, William?"

Weird, William thought. He had never imagined specializing in proctology. Frankly, he wondered what type of man, or woman, would want to specialize in proctology. It must though pay awfully well. But, he had to admit that he was indeed curious about peering into the insides of a pretty woman's rectum, as if hers would in fact be sexier than most. "Sure, okay," he replied, and took a good look.

Miss Anderson felt that she could not feel any more exposed, any more shamefully exhibited and displayed, than she was right now, with the men staring deep into her butt hole so widely spread open that a small animal could probably crawl in.

William didn't know what he was really looking for, and apparently for nothing at all, as the doctor said, "Nothing out of the ordinary, wouldn't you say, William?"

"Yes sir, definitely sir." 

"Well, let's get this out," he suggested. "I think we're done here." He slipped out the speculum in one smooth motion, and then admired the anus still gaping open.

"See how it remains wide open for a bit, William?"

"Yes sir, Dr. Welby," he said, nodding his head. It was a bit surprising, and odd, to have a butt hole so hugely open on its own. He wondered if a person could in fact do that without the aid of a speculum. "Man, I could almost fit my fist in there."

Miss Anderson groaned in embarrassment.

The doctor chuckled. It was a bit unprofessional of the young man but he could be excused, not yet having gone through any significant medical training. "Yup, it's like it's gaping at you."

It was in fact gaping unusually long, as if Miss Anderson wanted them to stick something else up inside. And, then, the sphincter slowly closed the entrance to the dark cave, like a lens of a camera shutting down.

"Well, I am happy to say, Miss Anderson, that we don't see anything medically wrong with your anus or rectum. You appear to be a very healthy woman, physically at least." He patted Miss Anderson's upraised bottom. 

"Oh, well, um, thank you, doctor," she responded, feeling good about that, as well she should. It's always so nice to leave a doctor's office without the physician discovering something wrong. But, still, a part of her would have preferred that he found something, something that could be readily cured with a pill, or a salve. She began to lower her bottom to get off the table.

"Oh no, no," he corrected her, again giving her bottom a few playful pats. "You just keep that pretty little tush of yours up in the air. I need to clean you off, you know."

'Would this ever end,' she wondered.

The doctor retrieved some antibacterial cleansing wipes from the counter. "Now, this will feel a little cold, Miss Anderson, but probably rather soothing as well."

"Oh, okay, alright then." She relaxed her sphincter and poked her bottom out a bit further.

"William, why don't you hold open her cheeks for the professor. She might be getting tired of doing that. It would be the gentlemanly thing to do."

Betsy again blushed as she felt the young man spread open her butt cheeks. She wasn't sure which was worse, her doing it or having a young man do it for her.

The doctor applied one of the cool wet wipes to her anus, carefully and thoroughly cleaning off the lubrication that William had applied earlier.

The cold feel of the alcohol rub was at first jarring, but he was right that it soon became rather soothing, even a bit wonderfully tingly. An inadvertent sigh of pleasure escaped her lips, and her sphincter again began to pucker and wink at the doctor.

"Yes, yes, a really very lovely little anus and, I must say, quite clean. You take very good care of it, don't you, Miss Anderson."

"I suppose so," she softly replied.

"Yes, yes." He retrieved a second wipe, wanting to be sure that he did a very good job, although it clearly wasn't necessary. As he applied the second one he explained. "Yes, I think you have a very normal, healthy anus, Miss Anderson, but it is evidently very excitable."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh yes, yes. Like right now, it's puckering like a little excited bug. It really wants to be stimulated."

Betsy's face turned a beet red. "Oh, well, um, I'm sorry." What do you say in response to such an observation?

He retrieved a third wipe. "No, no, nothing to be sorry about. I'm just saying that you have a very sensitive and restless anus. Goodness, you're even lubricating." He lightly ran his finger along the lips of her vagina, just to make sure she understood what he meant.

Now, that was most certainly embarrassing and she couldn't help but squirm a bit at the touch of the doctor's finger on her moist cunnie lips. "Um, well," she tried to squeak out a response. "What should I do about it?"

"Well, if it's really that troubling to you, there is a psychologist on your campus that specializes in such things. Dr. Lowenstein I believe is her name."

How very odd. The table had been turned on her. Just as she had referred Bobby to the psychologist, so now was this physician referring her.

"You can let go of her cheeks, William."

With considerable regret he did so. He did wonder if perhaps, when he took her course, he might consider offering another form of treatment for the professor.

The doctor got a fourth wipe and applied it to her cheeks. There wasn't any real need for that but he did like how shiny it made them. "But, it's entirely up to you. Some persons actually like the sensations, but if you find them too disturbing then you might consider speaking to her. Or, perhaps you could just try some Lidocaine gel, or some anesthetic numbing spray. That could do the trick. There! All finished. Nice and clean." He felt like giving her bottom an affectionate kiss on the cheek but that would be crossing an inappropriate boundary. "You can get dressed, now, Miss Anderson, if you wish."

Betsy wasn't at all sure what she wished. She was more confused than anything else. She really didn't want to see a psychologist. How humiliating would that be, she wondered, as she noticed the two men watching her put her panties back on. Well, at least they weren't lasciviously smiling.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Betsy did stop by a pharmacy on the way home to purchase the anesthetic spray, along with Lidocaine gel (and a jar of sanitary wipes, just in case they ever came in handy). As soon as she got home she pulled up her skirt, drew down her panties, bent over, spread open a cheek with one hand and gave her anus a little spritz with the other.

"Oh!" she yipped, the lips of her mouth puckering into a kiss, as the cool little drops tingled her sensitive anal nerves. But, that startling stimulation was soon followed by no sensations at all. It was gone. It was all gone. Her anus was now quiet, at rest, like it had fallen asleep.

"Oh," she exclaimed, surprised at how effectively it worked. She put down the spray and reached back with her fingers, tentatively touching her anus, not feeling too bad about that as the doctor had so thoroughly cleansed her, back there. She could feel her fingers. It wasn't like her anus was entirely numb, but there was no longer any spark or tingle. "Well," she said, "that's it." She stood back up straight. "Excellent," she said, although she sensed that she was not as fully enthusiastic about it as she had expected she would be, or should be. It was sort of anti-climactic. Still, it was so, so nice to no longer be stricken by the offending sensations. Her mind felt as relaxed as her butt hole, and she took a deep breath of relief.

She did find that she had to give herself another spritz a few more times during the evening. She questioned if this was such an effective treatment after all. It's not like she can spritz her asshole various times throughout the day. Before she went to bed though she also applied some of the Lidocaine lotion. Perhaps that would be longer lasting.

She fell easily to sleep, perchance to dream. But, that was the rub.

She found herself in her class, standing at the back of the room while the students were busily working on a spot quiz that she had distributed.

More importantly, she looked down to discover that she was naked: completely stark naked. Standing right out there were her little perky boobs, her nipples all stiff and hard, probably due to the air conditioning. Her cunnie hair was wistfully adorning her soft, lily white mound, doing a very, very poor job of hiding her thick feminine lips. She reached behind her and clasped her bottom. Yes, she was naked back there too.

None of the students had apparently noticed as they were busily working on the quiz. She quickly crouched down and covered herself as best she could with her hands, hiding her breasts and cunnie, although not particularly effectively so.

Well, she did at least have on a pair of black high heels, along with her pink thigh high nylons, held up by a matching pink garter belt. Perhaps that was why she hadn't noticed that she forgot to put on her clothes that morning. She would have certainly noticed walking barefoot along the hard concrete sidewalks. It did seem odd though to not have noticed being naked up until this moment in time, but what could she say? Any explanation was pointless. It was now a fact of life that had to be dealt with.

What to do? She could run out of the room as fast as she could, but the students would clearly see her, and where could she go? It was a very long way across campus to her office. She would likely lose her job for streaking on campus, as if anybody still did that. Goodness, how did she get all the way to her classroom without being noticed, without being arrested?

But, again, that was the past. She needed to concentrate on the present moment and how to get out of it. Perhaps she could just hide until it was dark? She looked around. There was no place to hide: no closet, no cupboard, just a classroom of students at their desks, busily working on the quiz.

There was her large desk at the front of the room. She could hide beneath it, where her chair would normally fit. But, there was no way she could get there without being noticed.

She looked at the clock. The class was almost over. She had apparently been lecturing for quite some time and, most importantly, the students hadn't noticed anything! She didn't understand why but that was also a fact. If they had noticed that she was naked they most certainly would have reacted. The boys would be staring at her. Somebody probably would have left to get security.

Perhaps if she just ignored it they will either not notice it, or follow her lead and just act like nothing was amiss. There was no clear logical reason for them not to notice, but how else to explain that nobody appeared upset or even interested. And, even if they were only pretending not to notice, out of respect for her, that was certainly better than shocked exclamations, laughter, and outrage.

Taking a deep breath she slowly stood back up, very reluctantly taking her hands away from her breasts and cunnie, trying to gather herself, compose herself. And, with another deep breath she strode down the middle aisle of the class, trying to act as nonchalant as possible, as if there was nothing amiss in the world. "Be sure to answer each question," she instructed. "Don't leave anything blank."

However, as soon as she passed the last row the students there noticed her nakedness. Boys' eyes widened with shocked pleasure and excitement; girls' eyes widened with just shock. They didn't know what to say. What do you say when your teacher is suddenly naked?

The boys certainly knew quite well what to say: absolutely nothing! Saying anything ran the risk of her fixing what she might consider to be a problem, and it was certainly no problem to them; none whatsoever. If this is what Miss Anderson wants to wear to class; well then, all power to her.

It did, however, distract them from the quiz. Given a choice between answering questions about Bolivian culture and seeing Miss Anderson's perky naked tush sashaying down the aisle; well, there was just no contest.

Many a boy will wonder what a pretty teacher might look like beneath her business suit or spring dress. None, however, ever imagined being so well informed. Miss Anderson did have a very lovely body, so nicely curved, such smooth, clear white skin, and she most certainly did have a very, very cute bottom. As she passed each boy he was so, so tempted to reach out and give that delicate little soft round bubble butt an affectionate pat, or perhaps even a more licentious squeeze. That would, of course, be crossing a very significant teacher-student boundary, and so each, quite reluctantly, resisted the temptation.

Miss Anderson was pleased as she made her way down the aisle that there was no evident commotion behind her. Perhaps they did indeed not notice? How could that possibly be true? She most certainly didn't believe in any such things as x-ray vision or invisible shields. What was perhaps more likely was that they were just being dutifully polite, and her face suddenly flushed with shame as she realized that her students were probably indeed seeing, and ogling, her stark naked body.

Well, even if that was the case, she did not want to draw any further attention to it than was necessary. That would only focus and escalate the embarrassment. It was like one time she had been lecturing and noticed that the middle button of her blouse was undone. It was probably the case that many a boy was getting a good peek inside at her brassiere, but why call further attention to it by buttoning it up right in front of all of them. At the time she figured it was best to just tough it out. If nobody called attention to it then it would be like it never happened.




Miss Andi



Petronella Courcheval, manager of the PainCafe's Gift Shop, looked enthusiastically at F.X. Copeland's newest creation. "It's an android?" she said. "God, it looks just like me."

And it was—black hair in a Cleopatra cut, full lips like purple berries, intense hazel eyes, cantaloupe breasts encased in a purple halter...and long, fishnet legs. It was Petti to a tee.

"Yes'm." Cope grinned. "I had to have a model, a muse, like...you're so cute, y'know."

Petti smiled. Cope was so guileless. He would sooner "cut m' foot off" than cheat on his Muriel of 37 years...but he did appreciate a looker, and this robot thing was a direct tribute to Petti herself.

"Pardon me, are you the manager?" a frosted blonde interrupted. "I'm looking for a good bullwhip. And, that lovely man I tried the cane out on last month...having his buttocks show the weals was marvelous."

Petti smiled. "You want my brother. Sniffen, come here!" A moment later, a middle aged man with gray hair, and an unfortunate pot belly, dressed in a cardigan striped shirt and khakis—"Slave to J.Crew" was how Petti described Sniff—came up, holding a bit of register tape.

"I'm just-just going over the numbers, Petti." Sniffen Courcheval said in a shaking voice. "You said I couldn't go to my Stamp Club meeting early tonight until I worked out the snarl—"

Petti waved her hand. "Forget that. Or no—you have to work it out before you go, but I need you to test bullwhips with this nice lady. Go behind the screen and drop your pants, please."

Sniffen gulped, staring at his beautiful sister as the blonde customer giggled. "B-but you said I wouldn't have to do that anymore—please Petti—"

Petti gritted her teeth. "That's it. You can't go to the Stamp Club OR your photography group, or even Dungeons and Dragons for a month. Get behind that screen!"

Sniffen began weeping softly. "P-please—"

"Do you want me to make it two months?"

And Sniffen bawling, ran behind the screen and there was a sound of a sigh, and the zipper of his pants being pulled down.

Petti smiled at the customer. "Isadora will bring you the whip selections. Do your best to wipe out my brother's sorry attitude, please." The frosted blonde grinned conspiratorially, "You bet." Isadora went past, carrying a bundle of frightening looking implements.

"I would recommend the split hide Spanish cat o nine tails, or the sjambok. It's not shaped like a traditional whip, it's more like a long crop but carved from genuine hippopotamus hide." Petti smiled again

The frosted blonde laughed and went behind the screen. "Grab your ankles, asshole!" In a moment, Sniffen's screams began, but Petti was completely distracted by her bionic doppelganger.

"So what is this?" Petti said, running a scarlet tipped forefinger down the metal arm.

"Well, y'know that there's allus more submissive slave-type guys then dominant women what wants 'em." Cope explained laboriously. "Lotta fellas spend beaucoup bucks on the per-fessional ladies, but that ain't no satisfaction. What about a week-long rental? Mistress Android here, or Miss Andi, as I call her, kin give a guy the ideer he gots a dominant wife, see?"

"It looks a bit expensive. It's a real robot? Or android?" Petti put a crooked finger to her chin.

"Yeah, I got the go-ahead from the PainCafe big boss to borry money from the Vault, an' I promised him you'd be satisfied...my inventions seem t'have worked out so far." Cope said modestly, and Petti smiled. For a non-submissive man, she liked F.X. Copeland very much.

"Well, let's see Miss Andi at work." Petti stood back, and Cope pressed something on his remote control.

The android's lovely eyes began to blink. Such long lashes, Petti thought. Secretly, she wondered if Cope's creation was more beautiful than Petronella herself.

"Well it's about time, Cope." Miss Andi said, startling the hell out of Petti. But Cope only smiled.

"Miss Andi, meet the manager of the Dungeonopolis Gift Shop, Petronella." Cope said smoothly, and the android turned and smiled charmingly.

"Well, I can see we're sisters of a sort." Miss Andi said, taking Petti's startled hand. "Though I'm a little svelter, I think."

Great, thought Petti. She's a bitch already. Smiling, she turned and looked Miss Andi right in her plastic eyes. "Welcome to the Shop. I anticipate you will be the bringer of much revenue, if you've been programmed with any domination ability."

This elicited a metallic chuckle from Miss Andi. "Yes, I think I've got the whole bitch goddess thing down pat, dear." Miss Andi reached out and chucked Cope under the chin. "He already tried me out on a client this past week, didn't you?"

"Really?"Petti asked with interest and some annoyance that she'd not been notified. "Who, may I ask?" Petronella knew most of the BDSM aficionados of Buttermilk Falls.

"His name is Gideon Reinicke, and we had quite a memorable eight days."

Petti smiled. "I know Gid. He is between dominant girlfriends right now."

Miss Andi smirked. "He wanted to give me some lip, our Gideon, Tell me how to be dominant, and I ripped off his clothes and slashed him 'til he was sobbing with one of the legs from his dining room table, yup I broke it off, and then I shoved the leg up Gid's ass and then made him lick his shit off it...and then I gave him a Clorox enema—"

"She's real handy with finding household implements for sessions" Cope commented proudly.

"--And put him in diapers for the night...the next few days were quite cathartic." Miss Andi continued.

"On the second day, after tying him to a hot radiator for the morning, I pierced his nipples with pliers I found in the basement and attached heavy Yale locks to them. And then caned them while he screamed and bellowed. I gave him a boiling maple syrup enema, and then ordered him to call a gay hustler service, and order up three big black guys."

"I'm trained in makeup application, and put Gid in a wig and an old dress of his mother's" Miss Andi continued. "I taught him to walk with a World Atlas on his head, to be a lady for his new friends...it was bad at first, and I had to pull down his panties and throw up his skirt and whip him again--" Miss Andi's hand transformed into a whip for just a moment as an illustration--"But by the time the hustlers got there, Gid was Gillian, such a sexy babe!"

Miss Andi laughed and chills ran through Petti's heart. "I made him give each hustler a nice lap-dance, and thrashed him again for lack of enthusiasm. I told Gideon that even though he was chubby and balding and his teeth were crooked and yellow, he'd better bring all the boys to hard-ons before he sucked them off. I know what you're thinking—did he have any experience with that—any time on the bone? I made sure he'd learned before the hustlers got there."

Miss Andi paused, and something clicked, and a large steel penis shot out of her crotch area. "I gave him a little bit of practice with this, and then Giddie sucked off all three of the black guys, and then they took turns enlarging his rectum. Finally, as he was sobbing and causing serious damage to his makeup, I sent the fellows off with a hefty tip from Gid's wallet, and tied him by his balls from a basketball hoop next door. I told him he'd be there all night--I tied him there at nine-thirty, but by twelve I felt sorry for him and cut him down from his suspension.

"I tied Gideon's hands behind his back, and rubbed tuna fish all over his cock and balls, and then gave his cat a shot of crystal meth and locked them together in a steamer trunk I found in the attic for the rest of the evening...that cat had CLAWS, and though I did put protective goggles on Gid, the rest of his body didn't fare that well...And then the next---" But Petti had had enough. "That's all right. I hope Gideon isn't going to sue us!"

"No, he said he'd like to have her back--asked us to just tone her down a little." Copeland commented after some thought.

Petti's eyes met Cope's. Dining table leg? Clorox? Just a bit violent...and Cope was nodding. Hopefully he could tighten up the bugs in the eh, "system."

"But I've got great little delights to show you, Petti" Ms. Andi, impervious to the concerned look said cheerily. "Got a subbie to let me work on?"

As if in an answered prayer, the sobbing Sniffen, his chubby body stark naked and covered in long red welts, ran out from behind the screen. Behind him, the frosted blonde was taking two of the whips to the register.

"Stop, Sniffie!" Petti commanded. "Come over here."

"But I've got to dress." Sniffen said, covering his cock. "I-she ripped my clothes to shreds with the whip."

Suddenly Miss Andi spun on her heel, stalked to Sniffen and grabbed him, incredibly by the scruff of his neck. With amazing strength, she lifted him up and carried him to Petti, Cope and a gathering of interested customers.

"Here is a perfect example. Note how I can tease and torture with no excess implements." Miss Andi, still holding Sniffen in the air, reached down and easily crushed the small chastity device around his cock and balls, causing Petti to frown in annoyance—it had been expensive.

Then Miss Andi began massaging Sniffen's dick. As the crowd watched, spurts of lubricant shot out of Miss Andi's forefingers and she began giving Sniffen quite a hand job, going faster than the normal (human) hand could.

"Many women get tired of teasing hand jobs after half an hour, but I can go on for fourteen hours at a time." Miss Andi said, smiling. "And then I can torture as well. Note how I now can send out liquid habaneras peppers, mixed with stinging nettles from my palm, and how my manicured fingernails become lion claws."

This part of the demonstration made Sniffen scream in acute agony, but was no less entertaining. Then Miss Andi showed that her right hand could turn into a small rubber whip, and slash Sniffen's already rather tortured buttocks...and then she stomped his cock with her heel.

Finally, as a reward, she returned her finger jets to soothing Vaseline, and gave Sniffen a nice orgasm, before patting him hard on the buttocks and sending him back to the office for clothes.

"That was quite an exhibit" Petronella said testily. "But I wish you'd asked me before you broke Sniff's cock cage and gave him an unauthorized orgasm. He's scheduled to have them every eight weeks, and was two and a half weeks into this eight week period."

Miss Andi tossed her artificial hair and smiled. "I think I was in charge of that session, Petti, my dear. Why don't you stick to managing this dreary little store, and let me handle the sexy stuff."

Petronella looked somewhat truculent, but then Miss Andi leaned over and whispered "Or I can take you across my knee, pull those panties down and redden those little white curved buttocks, don't think I won't."

A moment later, Petti was about to tell Cope to shut Miss Andi down (after she got a safe distance away) but they were both jolted when Benny Price, a regular for fetish videos, magazines and other solitary pleasures asked "How much for the weekend—with Miss Andi?"

Petronella smiled guiltily, thinking that Miss Andi had to be calmed down a bit, electronically, before being sent out. "Mr. Price, we are just demonstrating her now. She'll possibly be ready next week—"

"How much'll you pay for me, soldier?" Miss Andi interrupted. "And it better be munificent, your offer, or I'll take it out on your hide when we get home."

Benny grinned, absolutely bedazzled. "I'll give you a thousand dollars a day for her, Miz Courcheval, and I'll rent her for a month."

Cope nudged Petti. "That's pretty fair, half the cost of her manufacture...but the generator will be extry, Mister Price."

Two hours later, Benny brought Miss Andi (and the generator) in the house. He was bedazzled. Benny had begun jerking off to femdom stories in "Penthouse Variations" forum when he was thirteen, and within a few months, had discovered that the A train would take him from his Brooklyn home to Times Square, where all the great books and videos were hawked.

Benny's pop, Rabbi Price, would have shit a brick had he viewed Benny's reading material, but it was a big house, and Benny had the basement all to himself, where he could have one-handed adventures "playing video games".

Benny had fantasized about eventually meeting a woman who'd become his dominant wife, and he jerked off thinking about the big chested girls at school (and their mothers) while reading the great Mistress/Wife stories...but reality was far different. Benny's various girlfriends and his two wives had been horrified at his interests—Benny learned that most women only want to dominate men NON-sexually...and they left when Benny when he stopped fucking them and resorted to his adolescent onanistic pleasures over "Corporal" magazine.

Why wouldn't a woman want a guy to service her while naked on his knees—doing all the housework wearing only an apron and high heels...that neat stuff? No, Evelyn, Benny's second wife had much preferred a traditional housekeeper, and by that time Benny was making big money in the software game—and Evelyn still had a housekeeper in the Manhattan duplex that she shared with their three kids, enjoying Benny's generous child support payments indubitably.

And Benny, though trying to find a date at various BDSM groups, just found obese, neurotic Science Fiction types at any event he went to, none of whom vaguely resembled the hot dommes he'd paid for sizzling sessions. His business was a portable one, and he'd tried New York, San Francisco, Dallas, and even cities in Europe...no luck!

But Benny had learned about Buttermilk Falls, the quiet community with the infamous PainCafe, and he'd moved here eighteen months ago...but he'd still met no nice girl who'd give him pleasant hell. He'd gotten a huge crush on Petronella, the gift shop manager, and had gotten her, while in the ruse of buying canes, to take down his pants and whip him a few times...and he always bought whatever she'd whipped him with...but she wasn't interested in dating Benny.

But here was her android double! Right here in his house, and Benny wondered whether Miss Andi could pretend to be his dominant wife...what would it be like?

Benny stopped his ruminating and looked at his dominant "Wife" for a month. She smiled metallically at him. "Benjamin, strip and bend across the couch immediately."

Benny obeyed, his hands trembling. He dropped his clothes to the floor, and ran to the couch. But then Miss Andi grabbed him by the arm, and bitch-slapped his face with an energy that turned him into a manic Bobble Head doll.

As Benny's nose bled, Miss Andi laughed contemptuously. "You don't have the sense to fold your damn clothes--Mommy is not pleased."

Benny ran and folded his clothes neatly after Miss Andi dropped them, and then staggered to the couch, and bent over, his erection swelling. Miss Andi came behind him, and, producing twine from a pocket in her tight jeans, tied Benny's ankles together, as well as his wrists behind his back. "I have tied this so tightly you'll never get away...and I don't believe in safe words...brace yourself for your first lesson!"

Benny noticed also, with a sinking heart, that Miss Andi pulled his cock and balls behind his legs, so when the whip hit them, it would be even worse. SLASH! CRACK! And she knew how to hit...her aim was nearly perfect.

Miss Andi swung again, right against Benny's testicles...but then she took his cock in her long fingers and he felt the lube being squirted...and she gave him a heavenly tug job, before swinging the whip back again and wilting his penis with another evil crack!

"I hope I'm not going to have to jerk you into an erection after every lash, Benjamin." Miss Andi said brusquely. "I want you to think of how sexy I am, and keep your dickie hard, or else I'll really crush your balls. As your daddy probably used to say, if you keep crying, I'll give you something to cry about...well, if you stay limp much longer, I'll make you limp, with one twist, for the whole month you have me rented!"

Benny thought desperately of Miss May 20010, in his latest stroke book, and then he hardened a bit, and he heard Miss Andi's chuckle of approval.

"I am going to hit you fifty times" Miss Andi said. "And then you are going to lick my electronic cunt. If I don't have three registered orgasms--and my internal computer will let me know--you will receive one hundred more lashes!"

But mysteriously, after she raised her whip-hand to strike again, Miss Andi stopped, holding her arm in the air. Benny's eyes closed, expecting a real hard crack...but he waited three minutes before daring to ask Miss Andi what was wrong...and then he remembered that, in his excitement and horniness to get things going, he'd forgotten to recharge Miss Andi pre-session.

And he couldn't move. His wrists were bound, his legs were bound...and he couldn't MOVE.

And--four hours later, still stiffly tied, perhaps until Marta came in the morning to clean Benny realized, as wet shit and pee finally evacuated his bowels and bladder that first, there was no substitute for a real woman, and secondly...in a way, this was the best BDSM session he'd ever had!



Miss Anne Thrope



© 2004 by Thrillerauthor

As I write this tale of woe, the sight of manicured fingers flitting over my keyboard evokes the utter misery of my situation. Not long ago, I was vice president of a major pharmaceutical firm, with a six figure salary and a corner office. Now I am sitting in a secretary's cubicle, trying to keep from snagging my pantyhose each time I escape from my pathetic little desk. How did this ever happen to me?

It all began one fateful morning when one of the geniuses in research and development came into my office with a hangdog expression on his face. I was busy packing up my briefcase for a two week road show which would launch our new diet miracle product, Metabolean. The test results had been sensational, and I sold the board of directors on an aggressive plan to market Metabolean to our target customers, overweight females, through a network of kiosks at shopping centers and strip malls throughout the country.

Because Metabolean was technically an herb, our company lawyers found a way to skate around FDA testing requirements. Our own research had shown that regular doses of Metabolean resulted in a weight loss of anywhere between five to ten pounds per week, without any significant side-effects. Or so I thought until Dr. Gefuhlgut broke the news to me that morning. "Uh, there is a little problem with Metabolean that we need to talk about," he stammered.

"Problem? What kind of problem? You're not going to tell me about production delays, are you? We're already committed to a huge media buy, the lawyers have tied up sites around the country with long-term leases, and I'm leaving for the airport in ten minutes to kickoff our marketing plan."

"No, production is right on schedule. The problem is with the product."

"What are you talking about?" I asked impatiently.

Dr. Gefuhlgut wrung his hands. "Some of our early test subjects have developed an unexpected condition."

I stopped packing my briefcase and looked him square in the eyes. "What kind of condition?"

"Well, as you know, Metabolean was given first to inmates at federal correctional facilities who volunteered to take part in clinical trials. Both male and female institutions participated in the first round of tests. Now, the good news is that none of the male inmates have exhibited any form of side-effects."

"And the bad news?"

Dr. Gefuhlgut pulled an 8x10 photograph from an inside pocked of his white lab coat. When he handed it to me, I actually laughed out loud. It was a group portrait of around twenty female prisoners. "As you know," Dr. Gefuhlgut said, "the inmates were divided into two groups: a control group who were given placebos, and the inmates who were administered doses of Metabolean."

There was no doubt who was who in the photograph I was staring at. Half of the women were enormously fat, and the other half had beards and mustaches. "My God," I said, "it looks like a casting call for a freak show! We have the fat lady candidates over here, and the bearded lady candidates over there." 

"Yes, well, that is one way of putting it. What are we going to do?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"What?"

"Look, this is only the first group of test subjects, right?"

"Yes, but you would expect any symptoms to be exhibited by them first. The other groups haven't had enough time to experience the side-effects."

"Maybe. Or maybe this is a coincidence of some kind. Anyway, you can't expect me to shitcan a multi-million dollar campaign at the last minute based on one test result, can you?"

"You can't be serious!"

"Come on, what's a little facial hair? Just between us girls, I think the chicks with the beards are hotter than the porkers, don't you? Anyway, worse comes to worse, they can dress up as guys." Tears of laughter rolled down my cheeks as I inserted the photograph into the shredder beside my credenza. 

Had I been thinking clearly, I would have realized that Dr. Gefuhlgut could make another copy of the photograph. What I couldn't have known was that he had a tape recorder in the side pocket of his lab coat.

SETTLEMENT REACHED IN METABOLEAN CASE

Chicago – Class action lawyers for thousands of woman made hirsute by Metabolean expressed "gratification" with the terms of a settlement reached with the pharmaceutical giant which manufactured the ill-fated diet pill. The multi-billion dollar settlement was hammered out in a mediation held behind closed doors on the eve of trial. Although specific terms were not disclosed, Aaron Thrope, the executive responsible for the Metabolean disaster, is said to have been "reassigned" to another position in the company.

* * *

Reassigned, indeed. The mediator was a tough-ass bitch who looked like Jesse Ventura in drag, and it was clear from the beginning that the company was prepared to throw me to the wolves. I watched helplessly as a parade of bearded ladies sobbed out their pathetic stories, trying to look sympathetic while the gallows was constructed around me. The feds were all over the company too, and their lawyers tried desperately to pin the whole fiasco on me. Still, my defense of ignorance was holding up well until Dr. Gefuhlgut did me in. The transcript of the tape recording he made to cover his ass was devastating.

MR. THROPE: "My God, it looks like a casting call for a freak show! We have the fat lady candidates over here, and the bearded lady candidates over there." 

DR. GEFUHLGUT: "Yes, well, that is one way of putting it. What are we going to do?"

MR. THROPE: "Absolutely nothing."

DR. GEFUHLGUT: "What?"

MR. THROPE "Look, this is only the first group of test subjects, right?"

DR. GEFUHLGUT: "Yes, but you would expect any symptoms to be exhibited by them first. The other groups haven't had enough time to experience the side-effects."

MR. THROPE: "Maybe. Or maybe this is a coincidence of some kind. Anyway, you can't expect me to shitcan a multi-million dollar campaign at the last minute based on one test result, can you?"

DR. GEFUHLGUT: "You can't be serious!"

MR. THROPE: "Come on, what's a little facial hair? Just between us girls, I think the chicks with the beards are hotter than the porkers, don't you? Anyway, worse comes to worse, they can dress up as guys. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

I felt like crawling under the table as the tape recorder played on. The rest of the mediation was a blur as the lawyers shouted at each other and divvied up the spoils. I knew my job was history, but the prospect of personal liability and maybe even jail time loomed. Just when it seemed like all was lost, the mediator swiveled her guns on me. The transcript tells the tale.

THE MEDIATOR: "It would seem, Mr. Thrope, that you are the culprit in this drama."

MR. THROPE: "I was only doing my job."

THE MEDIATOR: "Do you know what you are, Mr. Thrope?"

MR. THROPE: "Broke and out of work?"

THE MEDIATOR: "You, Mr. Thrope, are a misanthrope."

MR. THROPE: "A what?"

THE MEDIATOR: "A misanthrope. It means you have a hatred for mankind. You are not fit to live amongst civilized society, Mr. Thrope. At least not as you are. Fortunately, I have had time to fashion a remedy for this situation. A remedy which is uniquely tailored to the suffering you have brought about."

MR. THROPE: "I have my rights!"

THE MEDIATOR: "Of course you do, Mr. Thrope. You have every right to walk out of this room, and spend the rest of your life paying damages in the millions. Or, you can accept the terms which I am about to impose on you."

MR. THROPE: "What terms?"

THE MEDIATOR: "When you were confronted with the side-effects of Metabolean, you joked about how your unfortunate victims could dress up as the opposite sex to conceal their shame and embarrassment. I have similar conditions in mind for you."

MR. THROPE: "What conditions?"

THE MEDIATOR: "Because of you, thousands of women were forced to endure the humiliation of being transformed against their will. The very essence of their being, their femininity, was taken from them. As a condition to accepting the monetary settlement which your employer has put on the table, representatives of the plaintiffs have demanded that you atone for your misdoings. When I shared my idea with them, they were delighted with it."

MR. THROPE: "What idea?"

THE MEDIATOR: "Just between us girls, I am going to turn you into one."

MR. THROPE: "What?"

THE MEDIATOR: "Immediately after these proceedings are adjourned, you will be required to live as a woman for a term of one year. During this period of time, you will be required to work as an entry level employee for the company which you so recklessly misguided."

MR. SNEAD: "You can't make me do that!"

THE MEDIATOR: "You are entirely right. The choice will be yours, not mine. Your employers have agreed not to seek indemnification from you for the billions of dollars which you have cost their shareholders, and to keep you on the payroll, if you comply with my conditions."

MR. THROPE: "This is insane!"

THE MEDIATOR: "Think it over, Mr. Thrope. Or should I say, Miss Anne Thrope? You will be issued identification befitting your new gender, and the company has even agreed to pay for a complete makeover and a new wardrobe for you. Of course, you will have to move into a smaller apartment, something you can afford on the salary of a working girl. Think it over, Miss Thrope."

* * *

At the end of the day, what choice did I have? That's what I kept telling myself as I signed the Consent Decree which required me to "act, dress and live as a member of the female sex until one year from the date of this agreement." Unfortunately, I didn't take the time to read the fine print in the twenty page document. If I had, there's no doubt in my mind that I would have jumped out one of the conference room windows before I signed it.

A Special Mistress was appointed by the mediator to oversee my transformation. Her name was Donna Mae Trix. Donna was about thirty, very attractive in a mannish sort of way, and under other circumstances I might have tried to get into her pants. As I was soon to learn, those days were gone forever, or at least for the next year of my life. 

The nightmare began when Donna escorted me out of the mediation to the hoots and catcalls of a mob of mustachioed harpies. After we ran the gauntlet, I was ushered into a waiting minivan and driven to salon in the gay area of Chicago known as "Boys Town". When Donna and I entered the salon, an evil-looking woman was waiting for us in the lobby.

"You must be Mr. Thrope," she said with elaborate courtesy. "I am delighted to meet you at last. Welcome to my salon."

"All hope abandon, ye who enter here!" Donna said with fiendish grin.

"Now Donna, let's not be melodramatic. My name is Cassandra. Until recently, the vast majority of my customers were men, but I am greatly indebted to you for tripling my business this year. Now, over half of my customers are women seeking to undo the side-effects of Metabolean. I have been doing a land-office business in laser hair removal." 

"Which is exactly what we have in mind for Mr. Thrope," Donna said. "Although from now on, please refer to her as Anne."

The significance of Donna's words was soon to become apparent. In my naiveté, I had assumed that I would simply have to wear dresses for a year, which would be humiliating enough. Little could I have imagined the misfortunes that awaited me.

Donna handed a copy of the Consent Decree to Cassandra. For what seemed like an eternity, she flipped through the pages, nodding and cackling to herself occasionally. Finally she put it down and rubbed her hands together. "Congratulations, Anne," she said. "Your employers have agreed to splurge on the Lass-E-Dream Treatment. Please follow me." With Donna prodding me from behind, I followed Cassandra into a windowless room with an examination table, a scale, and a piece of machinery that looked like a washing machine with wires attached to it. 

"Please strip down to your shorts," Cassandra told me. When I hesitated, she dropped all pretense of politeness. "Off with your clothes, at once! My instructions are to notify the mediator immediately if there is the slightest lack of cooperation." That was enough to goad me into taking off my shoes, shirt and slacks, which Donna scooped up and tossed into a trash bag. I started to protest, but thought the better of it and bit my tongue. "Get on the scale," Cassandra instructed me, and without hesitation I complied.

She stepped behind the scale and measured my height before fiddling with the weights. After pronouncing that I was five feet nine inches tall and weighed one hundred and fifty-five pounds, she appraised my physique with a critical eye. "How old are you?" she asked.

"Thirty-eight."

"You have kept yourself remarkably fit, Anne. Best of all, with your dark hair and fair complexion, you are an ideal candidate for laser treatments. As I mentioned, the Lass-E-Dream program has been selected, for which you should be very grateful. One of the downsides to laser hair removal is temporary swelling and reddening of the skin afterwards, and with the amount of body and facial hair we have to remove from you, several weeks of treatments would ordinarily be required. Take this," she said, handing me a pill and a paper cup.

"What is it?" I asked, looking warily at the little white pill in my hand.

"Don't be alarmed," she chuckled. "It is just a sedative to make you drowsy." 

"Why do you want to put me to sleep?" I asked nervously.

Cassandra sighed with obvious irritation. "If you want to drag this out, be my guest. I get paid the same either way. With the Lass-E-Dream program, we are able to remove all of your hair in one session, and by the time you wake up, the worst of the swelling will be over."

I knew I was trapped either way, but some instinct told me to prolong the inevitable. "What if I'd rather take it a little slower?"

"That is entirely your prerogative," Donna chimed in. "However, under the terms of the Consent Decree you signed, the clock on your year as a female does not start running until your makeover is complete." For the first time, I realized that I had made a colossal mistake in not reading the agreement. Too proud to admit my stupidity, I swallowed the pill and washed it down. "Excellent," Cassandra said. "Why don't you lie down while we get ready to start on you." I was already beginning to feel lightheaded, and it was all I could do to hoist myself onto the examination table before I passed out.

* * *

When I awakened, I found myself in a strange room. Sunlight streamed in through windows adorned with floral curtains, and reflected off bright yellow walls and antique white furniture to assault my bleary eyes. I squinted at my surroundings, and slowly realized that I was lying under a pile of covers in a queen sized bed. I lifted my head off the plush pillows and started to pull back the covers when everything hit me at once.

What the hell have I got on? Holy shit, what happened to my arm? There's no hair on it. And why is there hair hanging down over my eyes? When I reached up to brush it away from my face, I found myself staring at polished fingernails. Tearing off the covers, I saw my legs, sleek and hairless, under the hem of my satin nightgown. I fell back onto the pillows as it all came back to me. The realization that I had been made over in my sleep to look like a woman was slowly sinking in when I heard the door open. 

"Good morning, Anne. I was beginning to think you'd sleep through the whole year," Donna said with exaggerated sweetness. I opened my eyes to see her hovering over the bed, a look of triumph on her face. 

"Where am I?"

"In your new apartment, of course."

"Apartment? What happened to...Cassandra?"

"That was days ago. Once she finished with your laser treatments, there was a little more swelling than we anticipated, so we decided to let you sleep until your skin was back to normal. Of course, this gave us plenty of time to decide on a hairstyle for you and weave it into place, and it also let your fingernails grow just long enough for us to do something with."

"Do you mean the laser treatments are finished?" I asked as I tried to get up. I was still feeling a little light-headed, and Donna had to grasp my arm as I got unsteadily to my feet. When I looked down and saw that my toenails had been polished too, I nearly passed out again.

"Oh yes, your body and facial hair are gone forever."

That shocked me back into reality. "What do you mean, gone forever?"

"Anne, the Consent Decree required you to subject yourself to the same treatments prescribed for the female victims of Metabolean. Laser hair removal is permanent. The follicles absorb energy from the laser until they die and can no longer grow hair."

"Nobody told me that!" 

"Cheer up! Now you'll never have to shave again." 

"You little bitch! I'll get you for this!"

Donna whipped a pistol out of her purse and pointed it at me. "The mediator was afraid you might react this way. The dart in this gun is filled enough female hormones to knock the stuffing out of you. Bend over."

I pushed her aside and made a dash for the door. I heard a thwack and felt a sharp pain in my ass. Too late, I reached back and tried desperately to pull the dart out of my skin, but by the time I was able to find it in the satin folds of my nightgown, its awful payload was coursing through my system.

Holding the dart in my hand, I looked at my knees shaking under my nightgown, and for the first time in memory I started to cry. "Oh my," Donna observed. "I had no idea the estrogen would start in so quickly!" 

I slammed the door in her face and crawled back into bed, broken down with misery.

* * *

Later that day, I came to terms with my fate. Maybe it was the psychological impact of having my body laced with female hormones, or maybe it was the stark language of the Consent Decree that I finally got around to reading. As I sat in bed on my sore ass, pouring over page after page, the enormity of my predicament sank in:

"Defendant's legal name will be changed to Anne Thrope."

"Defendant is to present herself as a woman at all times. Female hormones will be administered if necessary to modify defendant's behavior."

"The wearing of any articles of male clothing by defendant during the term of this agreement is prohibited."

On and on it went, stripping me of any vestige of masculinity, making me sick to my stomach. The kicker came at the very end: "Any violation of the conditions of this agreement shall have the effect of extending the term hereof for an additional period of one year." That meant if I slipped up even once, I would be forced to start my year as a woman all over again, or subject myself to millions of dollars of civil liability to Metabolean victims Once I realized that I was trapped, I resigned myself to coping as best I could with the maniacal agreement I had so foolishly signed.

When I finally opened my bedroom door to throw in the towel, Donna was waiting for me in the small living room. "Hello, Anne. Are you ready to get dressed?"

"Not really, but what choice to I have?"

"That's the spirit! Why don't we start with a nice hot bath?" She led the way into the bathroom, and I watched disconsolately as she poured a capful of bubble bath into the tub and started filling it with steaming water. The sight of myself in the mirror above the vanity was truly shocking: my face was smooth, without any trace of stubble, and long dark hair fell down around the shoulders of my nightgown. When I looked at myself more closely, I realized that I had a small stud in each ear. Donna saw me fingering them and said, "You should be ready for nice earrings today."

I wondered what else they might have done to me. With trepidation, I lifted up my nightgown and stared at the panties around my waist. "I'll leave you now, Anne. Don't forget to shampoo and condition your hair. I'll help you style it after you're out of the tub." After Donna left, I pulled down my panties and relieved myself, feeling strangely ridiculous standing there holding up my nightgown. I pulled it off and sank into the tub, and as my manhood disappeared beneath the bubbles, my smooth arms and legs looked just like those of a woman. 




Miss Anne Thrope



Eventually I soaped up my hairless body and shampooed my now-long hair, which felt almost natural. I had an idea that a good weave was very expensive, and for the first time I got an inkling of how much money my employers were spending to mollify the Metabolean plaintiffs. After I dried myself off, I pulled on a terry cloth bathrobe that was hanging on the back of the door and walked into the bedroom to discover that Donna had laid my outfit for the day out on the bedspread: a bra, panties, nylons, a slip, a gray wool skirt and a matching top were arrayed before me. I was staring at them when she walked back into the room. "Oh my, look at your hair! Come on, Anne, let me show you how to do something with yourself."

Just go with the flow, I told myself as she sat me down in front of the vanity and went to work on my mop of wet hair. I watched as she wrapped a towel around it, like the turbans that my ex-wives and girlfriends used to create for themselves, never dreaming that I would one day need to learn how to perform the same ritual on myself. When she started curling up strands of my hair into rollers, I wondered if I could at least get a shorter hairdo that would be easier for me to take care of. As if reading my mind, Donna said, "Of course, once you get the hang of this, you may want to experiment with different styles or even a totally new look. That's one of the fun things about being a girl." I grimaced as she combed through wet tangles and closed my eyes in resignation when she went to work with a hair dryer. In a way, it was almost pleasant, having an attractive girl fussing over me like this, and in other circumstances I might even have found the experience erotic. 

It was the same when she showed me how to apply moisturizing crème to my face and body before she started in on my makeup. Only the harsh reality that this would be my routine for the next year of my life prevented me from enjoying the experience as she got down to business with her mysterious creams and powders. A scientist by training, I found it fascinating to watch my face being slowly transformed from the familiar one I had known all of my life to that of a totally different person. I protested when she started to tweeze my eyebrows, but once she had one of them halfway done, there was no point in stopping her. When she finished with a flourish of lipstick, and combed out my hair into soft feminine curls, I was astonished at the final result. "I look just like a girl," I stammered.

"Well, what did you expect, Anne? That was the whole idea. You're lucky your features are easy to work with. A lot of guys would look flat ugly no matter what. You were a pretty boy, and you're gonna be a pretty girl."

"Some luck," I muttered as she led me back into the bedroom. 

"I'm going to leave you alone to get dressed. Try not to snag your nylons with those fingernails. And call me before you put on your top, I've got some breast forms for you. Ta ta," she said, closing the door behind herself before I could respond.

This really sucks, I said to myself as I surveyed the feminine finery on the bed. With a sigh, I tossed the bathrobe on the floor and morosely picked up my new panties, which were white with a little pink flower at the waistband. As I pulled them up my legs, the thin fabric stretched to accommodate my slim hips, and I realized as I tugged them on that I had lost a lot of weight during my hibernation at Cassandra's. They held my limp penis flat against my stomach, and I worried about the effects the hormones were having on me as I tried to figure out how to put on the bra. Would I develop breasts? The bra was diabolical, and it took me a good five minutes to get it fastened around my chest. It took me a good five seconds to put my foot through the pantyhose, and I was hanging my head in frustration when Donna tapped on the door.

"Having fun?" she asked as she breezed into the room. "Oh dear, you've ruined your new stockings. Don't worry, we've plenty more, but once you run out you'll be on your own to replace them, and you would be shocked at how expensive pantyhose can be on a secretary's salary." 

"Why do I have to wear them, anyway?"

"Well, I guess your legs are good enough that you could probably get by without them, if it weren't for the dress code for secretaries. 'Skirts or dresses and hosiery are mandatory except on casual Fridays,' according to the company handbook. So on Fridays, or the weekends, if you want to wear slacks and knee-highs or socks, you're welcome to buy some. On your secretary's salary, of course. Now, stand up and let's give you a bust."

I didn't understand what she meant at first, until she produced two flesh-colored forms with nipples on them and inserted them into the cups of my brassiere. Once she did, the impact was remarkable: I no longer looked like a man in women's underwear. When I surveyed my reflection in the full-length mirror on the closet door, the person looking back at me was unmistakably feminine, and downright sexy in her skimpy lingerie. Incredibly, I felt my penis beginning to stir under my panties.

"Let's put on the rest of your things before we tackle another pair of pantyhose," Donna said. "That's a tip girls learn to help save them from running their nylons while they're getting dressed." She handed me the slip, and I was grateful to pull it on to cover up my budding erection. Donna adjusted the straps on my shoulders, then helped me pull on the top without mussing my hair too much. She showed me how to step into my skirt and twist it around to zip it up and button it, and she taught me to lift it up and tug my slip and top back into place after I centered the kick pleat behind my legs. 

"Now, sit back down on the bed and I'll show you how to put on your stockings," she said. I watched as she took another pair out of their package and started to ball them up, one foot at a time. "Easy does it," she said as she handed them to me and watched while I started tugging them on one leg at a time. "Careful, not too fast...watch out, you're twisting them," she said. As her fingers gently tugged at the delicate fabric on my smooth legs, the twitching in my panties took an a sudden urgency, and when she ordered me to stand up and pull my pantyhose over my waist, the sight of my slip and stockings under my skirt was too much for me. With an involuntary shudder, I yielded to a feeble orgasm that petered into a wet spot on my panties and hose as I blushed with embarrassment.

If Donna noticed, she pretended not to as I hurriedly tugged my skirt back down over my knees. What the hell was happening to me? Had the hormones messed me up already? Why was I so turned on by wearing women's clothing? My mind was a jumble of confused thoughts and emotions as Donna tried to show me how to fasten a thin gold necklace behind my back and swapped my trainer studs for a pair of gold earrings. She finally got my attention back when she presented me with a shoebox containing a pair of high heels. "Here they are, Anne. This is a right of passage into womanhood. Let's see if you can handle them."

After everything else I'd been through, putting on a pair of women's shoes seemed almost anti-climactic. The box said they were black pumps with a two inch heel, and when I stepped into them, other than the pinching in my toes I found them easy enough to get around in. Of course, I wouldn't want to have to wear them for any length of time, or cover any distance in them, but that is exactly what fate had in store for me. 

"Okay, let's check out the finished product," Donna said. "Wow, you look kind of cute, Anne." Sizing myself up from head to toe in the full-length mirror, I had to agree with her. My pretty face was framed by soft curls, my top clung to pert breasts and a trim waist, and my high heels gave a nice curve to the silky legs below my skirt. Incredibly, I felt another stirring in my panties, and quickly sat down on the bed to stifle the feeling. When I did, my skirt slid up past my slip, provoking a lesson from Donna on how to sit like a lady. As she taught me how to smooth my skirt beneath me and cross my legs, the exquisite sensation of nylon against nylon triggered another whimpering orgasm in my panties. While the pleasure quickly subsided, I was profoundly worried about what was happening to me.

Once again, Donna snapped me back into reality with a few spritzes of cologne behind my ears. "Okay, sister, you're as ready as you'll ever be. How about something to eat?"

All of a sudden I realized how hungry I was. "When's the last time I ate something," I asked her.

"Almost three days ago. That's how you got that girlish figure. Come on, I'll treat us to a ladies' lunch." 

"You mean outside?" I asked with sudden panic.

"Of course, outside. My job description as Special Mistress does not include cooking and cleaning for you! When we're through with lunch, we can take a trip to the grocery store, and you can stock up on some essentials. You will be cooking for yourself once you start work."

"When does that happen?"

"Based on the progress we've made here today, I see no reason why you can't start tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Why not? I need to give you a crash course in speaking like a woman, but we can start in on that while we're out and about. Come on, I'll fix you up with a purse and we'll be off!"

"Can't we just stay here today?"

"You can stay here if you want to. Maybe you'd like to spend the day trying on all the skirts and dresses in your closet? There's no food in your refrigerator and I'm going out for something to eat. When I get back, we can continue where we left off, although I have to remind you that your year as a female does not begin until your makeover is complete." 

"Look at me, for God's sake!" I exploded. "Are you telling me my makeover isn't complete? I look like a fucking girl, and I'm even starting to act like a fucking girl!"

"Maybe so, Missy, but you certainly don't sound very ladylike. According to the Consent Decree, you have to present yourself in a feminine fashion, including speech and deportment, at all times. Why, that little outburst alone would be enough to start the clock running all over again, if it ever gets started. Now, would you care to join me for lunch, or not?"

Utterly defeated, I watched forlornly as Donna filled a purse with lipstick, compact, a wallet with Anne Thrope's new identification, and miscellaneous female junk. After she showed me how to sling it over my shoulder, we stepped out into the hallway of my new apartment building. "Where are we, anyway?" I asked nervously as we waited for an elevator. "And what happened to all my stuff?"

"Your old apartment has been sublet, and all of your clothes and personal effects have been placed into storage. We were lucky to get you a one-bedroom apartment in Streeterville, which is only a ten minute bus ride from the office. It's going to be tight on your new salary, but if you're frugal, you should be able to swing it." Before I could say anything, the elevator doors opened, and we stepped into a crowded cab. I looked down at my feet while the elevator made multiple stops on the way down to the street level. When the doors finally opened onto the lobby, I hesitated a moment until I realized that the guys on the elevator were waiting for us to get off first. Anne gave me a little push, and the sound of my high heels clattering across the marble foyer warned me that me feet were starting to hurt.

By the time we had walked a couple of blocks on the concrete sidewalk, they were killing me. Donna pointed out a little restaurant and asked me if it looked okay. "Anyplace is fine, I've got to get off my feet," I whispered.

"Poor baby. Just be glad we're breaking them in today," she said as we went inside. The hostess led us to a quiet table, and after sitting down carefully in my skirt, I gratefully kicked off my heels and reached down to squeeze my aching toes through my nylons. Donna told me to hang my purse on the back of my chair, and I was studying my menu when a waitress approached to ask us if we wanted anything to drink. I tried to open my mouth, but I froze up and was unable to speak.

"We'll each have iced tea," Donna said. After the waitress left, she leaned over and said, "Just keep it short and sweet. Speak from your throat, not your diaphragm. Here, let's try a little experiment." She handed me my glass of water. "Gargle with this."

After I did as I was told, she said, "Try saying something from the spot in your throat where you just gargled." When I did, my voice came out higher, softer and almost natural. "Very good, Anne. That's your new voice."

"Thanks," I said shyly. 

"What are you going to order?" Donna asked.

"I'm famished," I said, getting a feel for my new voice. "A double order of chili sounds good."

"Not if you want to maintain your figure," Donna admonished me. "No self-respecting girl would order something like that for lunch. Why don't you try the pasta salad?"

The waitress returned before I could argue with her. "Pasta salad," I said reluctantly, surprising myself by putting a little hiss in each word. 

"Show off," Donna teased me after the waitress left. "You're a fast study."

"Somehow I get the feeling I'm not the first guy you've taught this too," I said.

"And so perceptive," Donna said, deftly changing the subject. "You are going to make such a wonderful secretary!"

"How will I know what to do tomorrow?" I asked nervously.

"All you have to remember is to report to human resources at eight o'clock. Everybody is expecting you."

* * *

The next morning, I was filled with foreboding when I woke up before dawn. I tossed and turned until the six o'clock news came on the clock radio, informing me that it was going to be a perfect fall day in Chicago. With a sigh of resignation, I took off my nightgown and staggered into the bathroom. 

An hour later, my hair styled and my makeup as good as I could get it, I returned to the bedroom and opened the door to the walk-in closet. I had only glanced into it the day before, and I was overwhelmed by the selection of skirts, tops, jackets and dresses that hung before me. The perimeter of the floor was covered with shoeboxes full high heels in various styles and colors, and a cubby by the door was teeming with scarves and sweaters. I was floundering with indecision when I spied an envelope pinned to one of the jackets. "Open me on your first day" was written in bold letters, and I tore it open to find this note:

Dear Anne,

Come out of the closet, working girl! I just know you will make an excellent secretary if you keep that pretty little head of yours. 

Having trouble deciding what to wear? To solve your daily dilemma on your first day, I have selected your outfit for you: a pink top, plaid skirt and navy blue jacket will go well with the black heels that you broke in yesterday. Why not try accessorizing your ensemble with a pretty scarf, and don't forget your jewelry! Nude pantyhose and white lingerie can be found in your drawers.

Good luck, sweetheart! Remember, you are not an executive any more. Just do as you're told, smile sweetly, and the year will go by before you know it! 

Donna

Sure enough, the skirt, top and jacket were pulled to one side, with a colorful scarf wrapped around the hangers. In a trance, I took them down and tossed them onto the bed. While I fished around in the drawers for my panties, bra, slip and stockings, I felt myself becoming aroused once again.

During my lunch with Donna, I had obliquely brought up my concerns about what was happening to me. "I'm worried about the hormones," I told her.

"So far, you've only had one shot. That's not enough to cause anything permanent," she assured me.

"Will I have to take any more?"

"Only if you're bad."

"What happens if I keep taking them?"

"Well, if you take enough of them, there could be some irreversible changes."

"You mean like turning me into a girl?" I asked her nervously.

"Not completely."

"What will the shot you gave me yesterday do to me?"

"Slow you down a bit, make you a little more docile. Let me know if you want another one."

Her words were ringing in my ears as I put on my bra and panties. This time, I tried tucking my penis between my legs, and it stayed there when my panties were pulled up tight. Once again, I watched my reflection in the mirror as the breast forms transformed me into a sexy girl in her bra and panties. After I stepped into my slip, the lacy hem swirled seductively around my knees as I dropped the pink top over my head and shook my curly hair free from its princess collar. I decided to throw caution to the wind and put on my nylons before my skirt, and as I watched the girl in the mirror slowly easing her stockings up her legs, I felt my contorted penis struggling against its silken restraints. Once I tugged my pantyhose up over my waist, all I felt was a dull ache in my panties as it settled into captivity. I stepped into my skirt, zipped it up, fussed with my slip and top like I had been doing it all my life, and even figured out how to tie my scarf into a loose bow before putting on my jacket. I remembered to put on my new woman's wristwatch, and a glance at it told me that I had better get moving if I was going to catch my bus. My purse was still loaded from yesterday, so I slipped on my heels, checked to make sure my keys were in my purse, and headed out the door.

The weatherman was right: it was a fine autumn day, with just a hint of winter in the air, and I was glad I was wearing stockings when I passed a woman on the sidewalk whose bare legs looked almost purple. The walk to the bus stop took me five minutes, and already my feet were on fire. I looked nervously at the people standing in line, but nobody paid any attention to me. Donna had assured me that if I acted like a normal girl and didn't call attention to myself, my true gender would be undetectable to strangers, and so far she seemed to be right.

I got on the crowded bus and found a seat next to a man with his face buried in the Tribune. I stared straight ahead and as we lurched along, it was hard to believe that not long ago I had commuted to the office in my company car. Sadly, I reached into my purse and extracted Donna's letter. "Good luck, sweetheart! Remember, you are not an executive any more. Just do as you're told, smile sweetly, and the year will go by before you know it!" A whole year like this...right now, all I wished was that my bus would swerve out of control and plunge into the Chicago River to put me out of my misery.

At a few minutes before eight, I stepped off my bus and walked hesitantly into the building where I had spent the past fifteen years slowly climbing the corporate ladder. My only hope was that no one would recognize me, but it was not to be. As soon as I got on an elevator, a woman's voice said, "Omigod, it's Mr. Thrope!" I didn't know her, but two guys in marketing I used to have lunch with occasionally started poking each other and giggling uncontrollably. I just stood there, red in the face, until we got to the floor for Human Resources. "Have a nice day, Ms. Thrope!" the woman called out as I stepped off the elevator to peals of hysterical laughter.

It went downhill from there. The receptionist in Human Resources treated me like an alien from outer space, and the officious Assistant Director sat me down in his cramped little office and gave me the facts of life about my new status. He seemed to take great pleasure in pointing out the dress code for females in my company handbook, and shared with me a memorandum which had gone out to everyone at corporate headquarters, informing them of my punishment and admonishing them to treat me the same as any other entry level employee. If that wasn't humiliating enough, the Assistant Director had his secretary take me on a familiarization tour of my new work areas: the file room, the supply room, the kitchen where I would go to fetch coffee, and finally the ladies room. Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, she escorted me into my old department and introduced me to the man who had replaced me as vice president. He wished me well with undisguised contempt, and then I was paraded past my gaping former colleagues and taken to my new cubicle. 




Miss Anne Thrope



I barely had time to put down my purse before the work started piling up: reports to be typed, travel schedules to be arranged, files to be sorted, and miscellaneous errands to be run for the three junior executives I'd been assigned to work for. The first time one of them summoned me into his office to pick up some files, I banged my knee on a filing cabinet and snagged my pantyhose. By the time I was able to scoot out for a new pair during my lunch break, I had a run going clear up my leg, and after paying for my nylons I barely had enough money to buy some cottage cheese to eat at my desk. I thought I was getting the hang of things until I messed up a phone message and got bawled out like a five year old by the executive on the other end of the line, and when I finally had to use the ladies room, I was openly scorned by every woman who saw me.

The only good thing about being a secretary is when the clock strikes five, you're out of there. More snickers on the ride down in the elevator, a sudden drizzle as I waited for my bus, and wet, aching feet all added to my misery, and by the time I finally dragged my sorry ass back to my little apartment, I had made my decision: tomorrow I would renege on the Consent Decree and take my punishment like a man. One day as a working woman was enough to last me for a lifetime.

By morning, I chickened out, put on a dress and rode the bus to work again. So here I sit, typing this story while the work piles up around me. The only thing they can't do to me is fire me: that would be a breach of the Consent Decree. I suppose if I get too ditzy, Donna will come looking for me with her dart gun. The very idea is enough to start a party in my panties.

By the author of The Jessica Project and Skylord.



Miss Aphrodite



Author's note: This is my very first attempt ever at writing anything like this, so any constructive criticism is welcome. If there's enough interest, I have plans for two sequels, but I'd like to get enough positive interest to make it worthwhile first! Hope you enjoy.

*

Let me tell you about Miss Aphrodite. That wasn't her real name, of course, just a nickname someone at college had given her. One of the classics nerds, probably -- most likely one of the classics nerds in my nerdy classics class, in fact. Still, nobody could deny it was fitting.

The first day of second-year classics at college, which took place barely a week after my nineteenth birthday, was an interesting one. There was a new teacher, everybody knew that. Ill-informed guesses as to what she would be like formed the bulk of conversation amongst her prospective students; one of the guys from the other class had sidled up to me in English and whispered, 'I've heard she's so old, she was there when all this Roman stuff happened!' before dashing off without so much as a citation as to his sources. The first class she taught was to be mine.

Everyone was in before she arrived, which was unusual for us. The classics students had garnered something of a reputation amongst the rest of the college for a complete inability to be punctual; it was an accurate reputation, at least. As we were soon to find out, her apparent ability to make an entire class on time without ever having met them was kind of consistent with the rest of her: unlike anything we'd ever come across.

I sidled into my usual seat --facing away from the door -- from last year, taking stock of who had dropped out and who had joined in the interim between terms. No real surprises, just a couple of leavers -- who for the most part had shoulders like gorillas and brains to match, belonging more in the gym than the ancient history department -- and a few transfers from the other class. I waved one of the latter category over to sit opposite me, recognising him from my philosophy class. Mike, I think.

'Hey, Dan,' he said simply, settling in the seat across from me. 'Seen the new teacher yet?' It was a predictable opener; she had proved herself to be immensely popular as a topic of conversation without any of us ever having met her.

'Nope,' I responded. 'Nobody has, far as I know.'

'Tom told me she's an amputee.'

I laughed at that. 'Yeah, well, he was trying to tell me she's over two thousand years old.'

'Full of bullshit?' Mike grinned.

'Full of bullshit,' I agreed.

The door opened behind me. There was a sudden hush in the room, although a few female voices carried on chattering without a care in the world. Mike's face instantly changed, his expression moving through amused to awestruck to astonished in an almost alarming display of facial agility.

'What?' I said, oblivious to the gazes of every male in the room instantly shifting to the open door. 'What is -- oh.'

I swivelled in my seat to see what Mike had been so awestricken by, and immediately experienced the same reaction. In the open door was... Well, Tom was full of more bullshit than we could ever have imagined. The nickname 'Miss Aphrodite' was probably coined in the first couple of seconds its creator saw her, and for good reason. If first impressions counted, she was into the billions.

Black hair, drawn into a spiky ponytail at the back and hanging down to her chin at the front, framed a heart-shaped face with perfect skin and deep blue eyes that every male (and lesbian) in the room had got lost in the moment she walked in -- although only momentarily, since the unexpected beauty of her face drew the gaze at first glance, but the rest of the glances were almost certain to head (when they thought she wasn't looking) at the round, firm breasts under the tight black shirt she wore. She was one of those rare women who were both slim and curvy, one of those teachers that your dad hoped you would have trouble with so he had an excuse to join the queue to talk to her on parents' evening. Furthermore, a tight skirt only highlighted the bottom half of what was indubitably the greatest body (to the point that the Aphrodite rule was introduced in debates over who was the sexiest lecturer: it just wasn't fair to pit any normal person against her) anyone in the room had ever been within fifty feet of. A pair of boots left a sizable length of smooth calf and thigh exposed to the world, the vision soaked up by everyone in the room. Even some of the straight girls perked up. I didn't believe in love at first sight, but if I did, I would probably have thought I was in love.

'Whoa,' I heard fifteen male voices, fresh out of adolescence, breath in unison.

'Hello,' she said. The first word she'd spoken to us, and it was perfect in its simplicity. A soft mezzo voice with just a hint of vibrato to it. Probably a singer, I thought. It was tinged with nervousness, though, hinting that perhaps she was not as experienced -- at least at teaching -- as most of us had been expecting.

'How old d'you reckon she is?' Mike whispered across the table to me. 'Only a couple of years older than us, right?'

I nodded in agreement, suddenly conscious that I was staring. No wonder she was nervous with an entire roomful of students mentally undressing her. She really shouldn't have been allowed to teach, or at least put in charge of some five-year-olds who didn't have the faintest idea of how perfect the soft curve outlined from neck to breasts to flat stomach was, or what was to be found where her long legs met under that skirt, where her hips swayed as she walked.

The lesson began much as everyone expected, which is to say she introduced herself and said something about Ancient Rome probably, but nobody listened. As it turns out, having teachers who can reasonably be compared to the goddess of lust is a bad thing for productivity. I drifted in and out of focus on the subject matter, having already read up on everything I'd need to know. It was lucky really. I wouldn't need to listen for the first couple of weeks or so, and that left me free to daydream. Hearing my name tacked to the end of a question, I glanced up from the naked woman I'd been absently doodling on my pad and gave a quick answer. She flashed a genuine smile in my direction with apparent relief that somebody, at least, was able to function in her presence (in areas other than the crotch). That said, though, I was under her spell as much as any other in the room. It wasn't just me wondering how those long, soft fingers or those perfectly shaped lips would feel wrapped around my cock, but my imagination was definitely working overtime.

I shifted in my seat, trying to conceal a growing bulge in my lap. A quick glance around the room told me that the other guys were doing the same, posed as they were in awkward cross-legged poses. Not only that, but I noticed with surprise that several of the girls had adopted similarly guarded positions, their cheeks slightly flushed and lips parted in tell-tale signs of arousal. The air in the classroom took on a hazy charge of sex and desire, a frisson of the promise of pleasure passing between everyone in the room. There was no way she could fail to notice this.

Maybe she was even feeling it too, some naïve part of my brain whispered.

'..Dan?'

Shit. She was asking me something.

I looked up, staring intently at the board to avoid getting my gaze caught in her body. 'Sorry, what?'

She cleared her throat.

Fuck me, even that's sexy! It was such an innocent noise, but somehow to my lust-addled brain it carried the promise of a wet tongue and soft lips sliding over... oh, fuck, she's talking to me again.

'I was just saying, could you fill in the blanks here?' She gestured to a line on the board. 'Gaius Julius Caesar'... and the rest was obscured by the roundness of her breasts.

I tore my eyes away quickly. It wasn't my fault I'd been caught (probably) looking at her chest, I was just trying to read!

How the fuck am I meant to tell her I can't read it 'cos her tits are in the way...?

'Er... could you move a bit? I can't read the...' I trailed off.

'Sorry?'

Fuck off did you not understand that.

'Could you just... shuffle a bit that way?' I gestured feebly.

There was a slight pause, then she glanced down at her own breasts.

A strange noise came over the entire class. Like a wave building up but never coming down to crash on the shore, a stifled utterance caught in the throat of every one of us. Somewhere between amusement, trepidation and lust, it worked its way up from below our stomachs into our mouths, where we caught it before it erupted.

Miss Aphrodite blushed. It didn't help the general aura of arousal in the vicinity.

'Um... sorry,' she murmured quietly. I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She was new, nervous and probably regretting having been born with such a desirable body. She took a step backwards, the breasts that had been obscuring the board bouncing just a little as she moved.

'Um, born 100, died 44 BC,' I said as quickly as possible in response to the question, which as it turned out was as simple as 'Gaius Julius Caesar:? -? BC'. She nodded, looking simultaneously relieved and embarrassed.

The rest of the class passed without much incident, until the end came.

'Dan?'

I turned in surprise as I filed out of the room. Always last to leave, and perhaps it worked to my advantage this time.

'I'll wait for you,' Mike offered, but she raised a hand.

'I might need him for a while,' she said perfectly calmly.

My brain exploded. As did twin sensations of lust and excitement that had been building up in my stomach and balls ever since she walked in; I gasped quietly as I felt my cock swell up instantly, pressing out in the front of my pants. Mike looked intrigued for a moment, but hid it well, mouthing 'Fuck!' at me as he left.

'What's this about?' I asked as soon as the door was closed behind him.

'Oh, nothing,' she said in that beautifully balanced voice, walking over to the door to lock it. I tore my eyes away from the back of her skirt as it swayed gently, determined to maintain eye contact. 'It's just that... well, you're obviously quite bright.'

I cleared my throat awkwardly, rubbing a hand over my hair as I did when I was complimented. 'I guess so.'

'So it isn't like you would need extra tuition, but you would be the ideal candidate to help me with some... extra-curricular activities.'

I blinked. Gone was the nervous new teacher. In her place was a woman who was sexy as fuck, and she knew it. Seriously, though, 'extra-curricular activities'? That was a line straight out of a bad 80s B-movie. For that matter, this whole situation was hardly believable. Either someone up there in heaven was really looking out for me, or I'd been unknowingly cast in a terribly clichéd porno.

'Um... like what?' I asked tentatively, not daring to hope that it would be what I was starting to suspect it might.

'Well...' She reached for the first button on her tight black shirt. Her fingers took hold of it and pulled lightly, sliding it through the hole. With that simple movement, I became hers.

'Is this..?' I breathed, my eyes following her fingers as they traced a smooth line down her front, delicately unbuttoning her shirt, the thin material pulling away from where it had nestled close to her smooth skin.

'Nobody can see,' she half-whispered, round blue eyes gazing straight into mine.

It was true; the blinds over the main windows were down because we'd been using the projector, and there were no windows between this room and those around it. That wasn't really what I was worried about, though...

'But this is...'

'We're both adults,' she told me in that same semi-silenced murmur, her delicate fingers pulling her shirt slowly open.

I would have argued further, but I couldn't. The black material parted, sliding away, and my eyes became unable to move from the sight of perfectly curved, smooth breasts under a black lace bra, almost spilling out over it. Her chest rose and fell slightly as she breathed heavily; I could see every movement highlighted by those perfect tits swelling faintly within their lace encasement. Soft skin descended from underneath, a flat stomach leading down into that tight skirt. She pushed me into a chair with a gentle, almost caring movement that nevertheless highlighted who was in charge here, moving so close that I could make out tiny, fine hairs just above her waistband, the faint dark circle of an areola under the semi-opaque bra. Her arms stretched backwards to shrug off her shirt; the motion pushed her chest towards me, my face almost touching the firm roundness.

'I...' I wanted to say something, but all my mouth could do was flop around stupidly as she placed a hand firmly on my chest and raised the other to my lips, sealing them with a soft, long finger.

I stared up at her as she looked down at me, her big blue eyes the picture of mock innocent seduction. Her hair fell, untidily now, around her face, framing it with strands of black. Glistening lips slightly apart, the focus of her eyes travelled slowly down my body and to the very obvious bulge of my cock, which intensified under her stare. It was like she was stroking it with her gaze, caressing it to greater length.

I wasn't exactly the kind of guy you'd expect a woman like her to go for, I guess. I wasn't built like the football team, just athletic enough to get by. What most didn't know, though, was that a lifetime of gymnastic training had toned my body under my clothes, hidden to the unsuspecting, to a smooth hard musculature. The hand on my chest flexed against the muscles, apparently enjoying them.

And I was no porn star, but I was definitely well-built down there. Big enough for her, judging by the way she gently bit her lower lip as her stare massaged my shaft.

My breathing quickened, almost hyperventilating as the hand on my chest moved gently but firmly downwards; I would have bet any money that she could feel my heart thumping as her palm glided across it. The finger that stood like a bridge across my lips pressed a little firmer for a fraction of a moment, then withdrew, hooking itself under the cup of her black bra and pulling gently; as she swayed with the motion, her ample breast bounced freely within the loosened bra.

I willed her to remove it completely, but she wasn't going to give me the satisfaction that easily. The hand at her chest withdrew, snapping the bra back with a motion that set the expanse of exposed breast jiggling madly with hypnotic movements, and came to rest on my thigh, only a few inches from my balls. Her fingers stroked the inside of my leg through my jeans, sending electric tingles the short distance across my skin to my ever-growing erection as her other hand reached my navel, brushing her fingers against it. She pulled up my shirt, almost tickling the skin above my waistband with quick movements.

Jesus fuck, was about all my mind could come up with to think in this situation. Her fingers made motions on my skin, passing around my cock but never quite touching it; the hand on my stomach quickly dipped beneath my waistband, but almost immediately retreated back upwards.

So I was being seduced by the biggest fucking tease of all time. Great. Not that I could complain, I had to admit as I watched her tits swinging inches from my face, restrained by the lace bra. Her torso swayed with the motions of her hands, each movement bouncing those beautiful breasts closer to freedom, but never quite managing it. The edge of an areola peeked out over the edge of its cup, but she slowly pushed it back inside, the soft flesh yielding at her touch. She gazed at me with those blue eyes the entire time, her gaze almost scientific in its penetration and examination. No part of my body escaped it; I might as well have been naked. Kind of wished I was, but it was evident what was going to happen:

She was going to keep teasing, and I was going to keep coming back.

Her fingers flitted inside my pants again, almost tickling with their light contact. Sensation flickered up my skin as they moved underneath my clothing, never quite touching my cock. I leaned forwards, a low moan rumbling in my throat, but she pulled back slightly, keeping the perfect curves so close to my face that it was unbearable not to be able to touch them. Her hands continued to work around my crotch, bringing me to an unbelievable hard-on without ever touching it, as I withdrew; as she came towards me again I quickly lunged forwards and kissed the top of her breast forcefully. She pulled back quickly, tits heaving in her bra with the movement. I simply enjoyed their motion, comfortable in my tiny victory.

'That's enough for today, I think,' she said suddenly, turning and bending down to pick up her shirt. I watched as her skirt highlighted the roundness of her ass, wondering how the hell I was meant to hide the bulge in my lap.

'Are we going to do this again?' I asked cautiously.

'You will become the head of the classics club,' she told me, in a tone that made it an order rather than a request. 'That will provide an excuse for us to spend time together.'

I nodded, wondering how long we could keep this up. How long she was going to make me wait before she so much as touched my cock.

Shirt back in place, Miss Aphrodite strode to the door. Her long legs moved with such grace, I thought, now even more conscious of the subtle bounce and jiggle of her breasts every time she moved. Unlocking the door, she beckoned me out, and that was the end of our first meeting.

+++++

Mike cornered me later, as expected.

'So what did she want?!' he asked, eyes almost literally shining with excitement. I guessed (correctly, I would later find) that rumours of what had happened in that closed-off room had already begun to spread.

'She asked me to be head of the classics extra-curricular group,' I said, remembering her instructions. I wondered now how much effort this affair was going to take; if I was actually going to take on duties as head of a group, it was going to be time-consuming to say the least.

Mike looked almost disappointed at the mundaneness of it. 'So I guess you and her are going to be having a lot of... one-on-one meetings, huh?'

I grinned, as would be expected of me. 'Guess you could say that.'

He punched me affectionately in the arm, a gesture I've never understood but accepted anyway. 'Have fun with that one. Hoo boy.'

I rubbed the back of my head, hair flicking out untidily. 'It should be... interesting.'

Mike grinned, looking both jealous and immensely amused. 'When are you gonna start your club then?'

I shrugged. 'Guess I'll have to talk to her about that one.'

+++++

An opportunity to do so came sooner than I'd expected; I passed her in the corridor after the last lesson of the day. She had regained that innocent look of clumsiness, nervousness, inexperience. A pile of folders and books was clutched in her arms, held against her stomach, pushing up those perfect breasts to which I had been so close. I noticed an air of desire surrounding her, every man in the vicinity wanting her. I wondered if I was the only one she had decided to have.

'Miss?' I asked cautiously as she approached.

'Um... yes?' she replied, maintaining the appearance of innocence that would be expected of a new teacher. Maybe she really was nervous as far as teaching was concerned, but not so much when it came to seduction.

'I was just... d'you want a hand with those?'

Her blue eyes flitted, for the briefest moment, towards her breasts.

Not those. Well, those too, but... Fucking hell.

'Oh, the -- oh!' She flashed a few perfectly white teeth in my direction, a strand of hair falling across her face as she shuffled a few of her books in my direction. I glanced briefly at the title of the topmost volume: The Romans and Sex. I was almost unsurprised, given how the day had gone so far.




Miss Aphrodite



'Good for a bit of bedtime reading, this one,' I said half-jokingly. I hoped it wasn't a step too far, but it was probably true, to be fair.

'Which -- oh, yes, it's certainly an interesting read... Did you want me for something?' she asked innocently, heading towards the staff room.

I almost laughed aloud. Did I want her for something? God, yes.

We reached the staff room without further incident. I was half-relieved and half-disappointed to see another teacher inside, typing away obliviously. We would have to be cautious, but perhaps this put me on a more even footing with Miss Aphrodite and her overpowering ways.

'So what did you want to talk to me about?' she asked, in that perfectly innocent voice that I now knew was a complete façade.

She set her stack of books down, lithely positioning herself in a swivel chair facing away from the desk, her legs entirely unhidden; I dumped the books I had been carrying next to her pile. She winced slightly at my irreverence for the texts, and I felt a strange satisfaction. Much as having her... controlling me was exhilarating, it felt good to claw a little power back from her.

'I was just wondering about this classics club thing,' I began, not entirely sure what to say. This was, after all, not the most pressing thing I wanted to speak to her about, but I could hardly come out with 'let's fuck right now' in the company of our key-clacking cohabiter.

'Oh, was that it?' Her eyes widened a little in what I'm sure appeared to be slight surprise to an outside observer, but to me was a blue promise of soft skin brushing against me.

'Er... yes. Just wondering when I should start it and... well, what you actually want me to do and stuff.'

She dropped her chin in mock amazement, her eyes remaining fixed on me as her long eyelashes fluttered gently past them. I could almost hear the words 'you unsubtle git'.

'Well, I suppose we should have a meeting about that, shouldn't we?'

I swallowed.

'Um. Yes. I suppose we should.'

She looked at me knowingly, and I could have sworn she gave the barest hint of a wink. Our computer-bound friend's clacking ceased, just for a fraction of a second, before resuming as determinedly as ever.

'Well, then,' she said, her voice betraying a hint of amusement amid its layerings of teacherly professionalism and new-job nervousness. 'I will... send you an email about that.'

I nodded, and turned to leave.

'Although -' she said, and I turned back, '- do you have a personal email address? I'm not used to the college email system yet, so perhaps you could write it down for me...'

I almost laughed. Who doesn't have a personal email address? It was amazing, the way she could seem so overtly sexual and exciting to me whilst remaining completely innocent as far as any onlooker would be able to tell.

'Sure,' was all I said, leaning over to take the pen and paper she held out to me.

I quickly scribbled my email address down, making absolutely sure that she would be able to read it. I stole a quick glance in her direction while my head was lowered, almost unsurprised at this point that she had surreptitiously arranged her shirt so as to give me an extremity-tingling blast of cleavage, the totally smooth arc of each breast scandalously visible between the black valley of her open shirt.

'Are you done?' she asked gently, her voice ringing beautifully in my ears.

Hot damn. Tits. Tits. What? Tits. Um... oh, tits, email address.

'Yeeeeeeeeees,' I said as quickly as I could, still reeling slightly.

She took the slip of paper from under my hand. 'I'll be in touch,' she said, and I left the room with my hand covering my crotch as inoffensively as I could. Be in touch with that, please.

She was in touch that very evening, in fact.

+++++

It was, to all overt intents and purposes, a perfectly formal, cordial email.

Dan.

I'm afraid the schedule of a new teacher means that I won't have much time to meet with you to discuss the classics club in college hours. Would you be able to meet me after college one evening?

A

So she was a single-initial signature kind of person. Interesting. I was surprised that she was being so forward as to ask me to meet her outside college already, but I imagined that this was her real motive for requesting my personal email: this would not be on any college record. The email hadn't come from any college or business account, so this must be her personal address, too. Still, it would always pay to be careful. I composed a quick reply, trying not to sound too eager.

Hey Miss

I'm not doing anything tomorrow if you're free?

D

That would have to do. I was never really busy, having lived alone in a tiny flat for the last year of my life, and even if I had had a meeting with the Queen scheduled I would have cancelled it in a heartbeat for this. I clicked 'send' rather too hastily, almost missing the button entirely. Note to self: never, ever hit 'send to all' when mailing a sex goddess. That would be... difficult to explain.

I stared at my screen until a reply came through.

Meet me in my teaching room. We'll go to a café and discuss.

A

Hoooooly shit. A café? That was... disappointing, actually. Couldn't really do much at a café. I sent a quick OK in reply before closing my laptop and slumping into bed, still in disbelief. When I wake up, Miss Aphrodite will be an ancient amputee like Tom and Mike said, and I'll have dreamed all of this. It was a depressing thought, but one I couldn't prevent from surfacing.

I tried to sleep for a while, but it was useless. A combination of boredom and frustration prompted me to reopen the laptop, and there it was.

Sitting in my inbox, a mail from her, the subject line reading simply 'Delete me'.

Not daring to hope, but hoping anyway, I opened the mail. There was no text, just a single attachment. A .jpeg image file. Surely not...

I downloaded the picture.

Well, fuck me.

Sleep did not come for a few hours. I, however, did. Twice.

+++++

The next day of college went ridiculously slowly. I didn't have classics, more was the pity, but I did run into Mike during a break.

'Hey, Mr. President,' he said, saluting sarcastically.

I returned his gesture with equal insincerity.

'How goes the whole... classics club thing?'

'Er... Yeah, it's alright.'

'By which you mean you have fuck all.'

I grinned. 'I need to, er... correspond with Miss A on that one.'

'Fuckin' A,' he whistled. I wish I was, I couldn't help thinking. 'She is quite something, wouldn't you agree?'

I nodded, knowing I didn't have to hide my inclinations from a fellow admirer.

'Is she gonna come to club meetings and stuff?'

I shrugged. 'I dunno. Probably just let the students do their thing, I guess. Might check up on us now and then though.'

'Yeah, let me know what meetings she's gonna be at and I will sign right the fuck up to classics club. Hell, I will pay to be in the fucking classics club.'

I had no doubt that the entire male population of my year would pay to be in the classics club if Miss Aphrodite would be there, even the ones who had no idea what classics was. 'I'll let you know when it starts, okay?'

'Gotcha.' He clapped me on the shoulder. 'Be good to her now, alright?'

'If I get the chance, I will be so fucking good to her.'

'That's my boy,' he said conspiratorially, and fucked off.

+++++

The rest of the day oozed by, my mind completely absent from any learning that was supposed to be taking place. When the final lesson finished, I practically dashed to her room and glanced through the door. She was still finishing up with her class. I stood, as unsuspicious as I could possibly make myself appear, and waited for her first-years to file out, most of them sneaking glances back at her as they went. If only you knew what me and the woman you're gonna masturbate over tonight have been getting up to...

I entered the room as slowly as I could, clearing my throat as I passed through the door.

'Dan,' she said, sounding pleasantly surprised at my punctuality.

'Miss,' I replied, not sure what to call her.

She swivelled on her chair to face me, and I drew a breath involuntarily. Her black hair was drawn up into a professional bun, the very image of the stereotypical sexy secretary only intensified by a pair of glasses that did absolutely nothing to hinder the beauty of her smooth cheeks, full lips and big blue eyes. Her torso was once again accented, I was now certain deliberately, by a powder-blue blouse buttoned just high enough to be formal while allowing me from my vantage point above her to glimpse just a millimetre of cleavage. Her legs were crossed, the same black skirt and boots revealing the same portion of tantalising skin.

'Well?'

'What?'

She smiled at me, a friendly smile. 'Shall we go?'

'Oh.' I cast about for something to say before settling on 'Yes.'

She nodded, smiling again, and tilted in her chair to swipe her bag from under her desk before standing up in a graceful, smooth motion, going without a fraction of a hesitation from sitting to standing. 'Would you..?' she asked, motioning towards a small pile of books on her desk. 'Since you were so kind yesterday.'

I acquiesced, and followed her out of the room, my eyes alternating frantically between the curve under her skirt, the white length between skirt and boot and the just-visible mark of her bra -- I could barely see, but it was white today -- against the back of her skirt. She locked the door, and I followed her down the stairs, holding the stack of books out to my side so as to be able to see her. 'Where are we going?' I hazarded, trying not to fall over under the combination of weight and distraction.

'Just somewhere we can talk,' she said, and I heard again the sleek power concealed in her voice under those layers of nervous innocence. She must be getting excited too.

I could feel the front of my jeans beginning to stretch out in anticipation. I wanted more than nothing else to leap on her right there, but my fantasies were interrupted by footsteps coming up the stairs and past us. The teacher who had been typing in the staff room yesterday nodded politely as he passed, and I resisted the urge to punch him.

We exited the building and headed for her car, a small vehicle the same shade as her top. It was, like she herself, in pristine condition, cleaned regularly, and ran very smoothly, making gentle purring noises. I deposited the books in the back seat, where she carefully placed her bag, and put my seatbelt on.

She was a careful driver, and her seatbelt nestled perfectly between her large breasts, highlighting the valley between them with such precision that I would almost have thought it knew what it was doing. I was glad it was her driving and not me; I could see the toned muscles in her legs moving as she depressed the pedals, and her breasts moving slightly as her arms surrounded them to hold the wheel. When I tore my gaze away to glance at the road, however, I realised something.

'We're going out of town?'

She nodded, keeping her eyes on the road.

'I didn't think there were any cafés out this way...'

'There aren't,' she said in a beautifully measured tone, and my heart skipped.

'Then...?'

'We're going to my apartment.'

Fuck.

She had said it so calmly, as if it were nothing, but my cock took it as far more than nothing. My mind filled with visions of slamming myself into her, letting her warm mouth overtake me, filling her completely -

'Are you alright?'

'Oh. Yeah.'

We spent the rest of the drive in silence. My heart almost matched the revolutions of the engine, beating hard in my chest, and I was sure she noticed my suddenly ragged breathing, but she said nothing, simply watching the road and driving as if nothing were out of the ordinary. I would have been crashing, speeding, doing whatever the hell I could to get there as fast as humanly possible, but she was restrained and cautious. I barely even noticed when we arrived.

'This is it,' she said. Again with the calmness! Her voice barely ever modulated from pure serenity, and it was beautiful and it was frustrating and it was turning me on so fucking much.

Her apartment was plain, modest. Like her, like her car, pristine and minimalist. I had come to expect this. We entered, again in silence, to a cream-coloured room with a modest television on the wall, a sofa and armchair and a small wooden table. I placed the books on the table carefully, watching her as she bent slightly to drop her bag next to the sofa.

'So what are we doing here?' I asked tentatively.

She looked me straight in the eyes. I blinked. Gone was the new teacher, the frightened, inexperienced pure young woman. Her blue eyes did not waver, even her blinking slow and controlled, long eyelashes fluttering gently up and down. Her lips were slightly open, a hint of an upwards curve emerging. She reached behind her head, eyes never leaving mine, and let her hair fall around her face in a silky billow.

Huh. Thought that only happened in shampoo adverts.

Black strands drifted across her face messily, the barest hint of a wave from being held up all day already smoothing out into perfectly straight drapes. I had no idea how her hair did that, but it was fucking incredible.

'We are here,' she said authoritatively, 'because I want to fuck.'

I blinked again. 'That's a bit forward.'

To my surprise, she sighed in apparent frustration. 'Too much?' she asked, her sexual demeanour shrinking.

I shrugged, wondering what the hell was going on. Then it clicked.

'Wait... this is your first time doing this.'

She feigned shock. 'No! Well... maybe.'

I couldn't help but laugh. Miss Aphrodite, teasing goddess, was new to this? 'It's okay, you know,' I said genuinely, although the effect was mitigated by my quiet snorts of laughter.

She harrumphed, folding her arms under her breasts. 'I've done sex before -- wait, I --'

I almost collapsed, doing everything I could not to shriek with laughter. 'You've done sex?!'

She practically facepalmed, awkward and embarrassed for the first time. It was a look that suited her surprisingly well. 'Yes! Just not... with a student.'

'Ahhhhhhhhhh.' I contained my mirth with a supreme force of will. 'I think I get it. You wanted to be the sexy teacher seducing a student, you liked the idea of being the tease in charge.'

She nodded, as if she were the student and I the teacher, caught doing something she shouldn't have been. 'You could have fooled me,' I said with amusement.

She perked up at that. 'Really?'

'Hell yes. That tease in your classroom... I would have believed you'd been doing that for years, you know?'

She seemed pleased. It made sense now: she really was the innocent, nervous new girl, both at teaching and at seducing her students. All credit to her, though: she had done a ridiculously good job of pretending otherwise.

'So what do we do now?' I ventured.

'Well...' She raised a finger to her lips in a mock thinking gesture. Her tongue flicked out, just for the tiniest moment, to dart across it, and I felt myself reacting. 'I may have blown the charade a little, but that doesn't change what I want to do.'

I grinned. 'I hoped you might say that.'

She returned my grin, which on her face was infinitely less goofy than on mine. A glint of perfectly straight white teeth between those full, soft lips flashed in my direction, and her eyes widened into round blue pools. I wanted to go swimming in them; I wanted to drown in them.

She began to advance towards me, flicking her head gently to shake the hair out of her eyes. One hand rose towards the buttons on her shirt, the other stretched out towards me. I stared straight at her, unmoving, wanting to know what she was going to do. If my experiences in her classroom were anything to go by, she would probably push me against the wall and tease me until I couldn't bear it anymore...

But instead, she moved her hand softly to the back of my head, running her fingers gently through my hair, and pulled me towards her -- not with the force of the teasing seductress, but the gentle insistence of the lover -- and pressed her lips against mine. I couldn't question it. I didn't want to. My eyes widened, staring into hers before both pairs of eyelids drifted shut. I could feel her chest pressing against me firmly; I pressed back and felt her breasts squashing up between us. Our lips opened and closed against each other, tongues flickering and tasting. My hands moved instinctively, one sinking into her hair while the other stroked her hip and moved upwards under her shirt, feeling the skin of her back. She was toned under there for sure, but not enough for hard muscles to detract from the baby-powder softness that apparently covered every inch of her skin. My hand moved further upwards, feeling for the clasp of her bra; she gently took my arm and moved it back to her hip.

Still trying to play the tease, are we? I thought. This time, however, I was determined to take charge... at least for a bit, and then maybe let her be the seductress again.

Forcefully, but calmly so as not to alarm her, I moved my hand again, resisting the half-hearted pull she gave it. My fingers moved inexorably downwards, pulling her skirt up until they felt the smooth expanse of thigh beneath. She gave up trying to stop me at this point. I kissed her more forcefully, feeling our tongues dancing around each other as my fingertips traced lines on her leg, at first gently but quickly giving in and squeezing, the skin depressing slightly in my grip. She returned my kiss, and I felt the hand that was not buried in my hair begin to lift my shirt, playing with the muscled surface of my skin underneath, stroking it almost tenderly, then pressing firmly and passionately against it as she moved her tongue and lips, still massaging the back of my head.

I pulled away slightly, detaching our mouths and opening my eyes to stare meaningfully at her. She stared back, big blue eyes watching me as she bit her lip gently, her breathing pronounced. I slid my hand in a deliberate motion higher under her skirt, squeezing lightly and pulling her towards me as I pushed my hips forwards. Her eyes widened as she felt the unmistakeable pressure of my erection against her, even letting out a small gasp of desire. I kissed her again, slow and long and hard, and as we moved apart my hand darted to the back of her leg, lifting it around me. She gave a quiet yelp of surprise as I moved forwards, ramming my lips hard against hers, sending my tongue exploring as I lifted her a few inches from the floor and carried her, our mouths still locked together, to the sofa, falling on top of her as she fell back onto the soft cushions.

'You're quite... aren't you?' she breathed between darts of her wet tongue. In response, I slid my hand back up under her skirt quickly, fluidly, and grabbed wildly at what I found there. She responded, her hands moving around my body as her tongue continued to explore my mouth, her body shifting to allow me to pull down her panties; she kicked them off over her shoes and groped for my belt. I pulled away, just a little, just enough to allow her to unthread my belt from its buckle and pull at the zip of my jeans, almost clumsy with need. Her fingers brushed across my cock, but I shifted. Last time, she hadn't let me touch her. I wanted her to feel that same desperation for me.

I unlocked my lips from hers, my gaze never leaving her frantically blinking eyes but noticing everything: the flush in her cheeks, her parted lips, always lipstick-pink without needing any lipstick, moist with our saliva, her nostrils flaring as she breathed deeply. Still staring straight into her eyes, I moved downwards, my fingers deftly unbuttoning her shirt. It was the biggest effort of my life not to tear my eyes away and drink in the glory of the body underneath, but I was determined to show her that I could be the one in charge too. My hands completed their run of her torso and felt around on her skirt for a zip; finding it, I slid the zip down and pulled her skirt off, throwing it on the other chair.




Miss Aphrodite



Her breathing quickened even further as my hands stroked the insides of her thighs, pushing them gently apart. One of her hands went, seemingly unconsciously, to her hair, bunching it up messily. The other buried itself in my hair, pressing urgently against the back of my head, urging me forwards. I released my gaze from her eyes and turned it instead to business.

She was already wet. Dripping, in fact; her pussy -- hairless but for a neat strip -- gave off a faint warmth and a sweet, aphrodisiac scent. I ran a finger down the centre of her labia in wonder at her wetness, taking pride in the way she shivered and let out a tiny moan at my touch. Her fingers dug deeper into my hair, pulling my head forwards as if her life depended on it. I resisted gently, instead manoeuvring my finger carefully up and down, stroking her before plunging inside her.

She gasped, and I could not stop myself letting out a breath too. She was so warm, so wet. I wasn't a stranger to sex as such, but fuck knows I had never had anything like this before. I rotated my finger, my cock swelling as my fingertip caressed her moist tightness, stroking her insides with first one, then two fingers. She grabbed at my hair with increasing desperation, and I relented.

With a teasing flick of the tongue at the inside of her thighs, I moved forwards and buried my face in her pussy, opening my mouth and extending my tongue into her. Closing my eyes, I felt her other hand join the one already pressing my head against her. She tasted amazing, sweet glistening juices filling my mouth as I slurped away at her, my tongue flashing between sharply darting at her clit and greedily licking as far inside her as I could reach. She let out a loud moan of pleasure in that perfect voice, making me suck at her clit harder, penetrate deeper with my tongue, rolling it around every inch of warm, dripping wet pussy.

Her moans intensified, gripping my head desperately; her back arched and lifted off the sofa, her delicious heat thrusting into my face. I increased the pressure of my tongue against her in response, feeling her gyrate against me. As I pressed against her insides with the tip of my tongue, I felt her begin to shudder, drawing loud breaths, fingers massaging my scalp in a strong grip, and I grinned with satisfaction as her pussy tightened and sweet, warm liquid rushed into my mouth. She let out a muffled groan of pleasure, holding me against her, and sank back into the sofa.

I withdrew gently, my face travelling back up her body. Her hands moved to my back, holding on tightly as my lips, sticky with her juices, pressed against her flat stomach, moving upwards. She made no effort to stop me as I reached her breasts, at long last taking them in my hands as I had wanted to do from the moment I saw her. I was already fully erect, but I could have sworn I twitched even longer as I felt her soft tits under my palms, squeezing them through her white bra. Her hands gave up their grip on me for just a few seconds, shrugging off her unbuttoned shirt; the motion pressed her breasts forward, and I watched as they swelled and gave way under my grasping fingers. I could feel the desire building in the pit of my belly, pulling me towards her. I leant in to her neck, kissing fiercely as one of my hands moved around behind her, feeling for her bra.

I released the clasp.

She pulled her arms quickly through the straps and tossed the garment to one side, and I couldn't help but let out a quiet whistle in awe. Her tits were fucking amazing. Better than that, they were perfect. I had spent a while on the internet trying to find the perfect pair, but I wouldn't have bothered if I'd known that one day there would be a pair in front of me that put everything I could ever have dredged up to shame. My hands pushed them up from below, feeling their weight as my eyes drank in their absolute roundness, the small pink nipples poking out from the centre of each large, perky breast. They were, in short, unbe-fucking-lievable.

My mouth travelled, as if pulled, down from her neck, kissing her collarbone ferociously, sucking at the perfectly smooth, pale skin of her chest, a hand pushing her nipple up to greet me. My lips closed around it, tongue flicking over the gradually stiffening nipple as my other hand teased, lightly circling the areola of her other breast before settling to tug gently at the nipple. Her hands moved as I worked, one tugging the front of my jeans open as the other lifted my shirt. I withdrew as she pulled my shirt over my head and threw it into some corner of the room, then darted back as quickly as I could to the other nipple, continuing my sucking, circling and licking. With both hands, she yanked my jeans and boxer shorts down, groping frantically for my erection.

It didn't take her long to find it; I felt her chest expand slightly as she drew a breath of desire -- or, if I flatter myself, perhaps amazement -- and her soft fingers grasped my shaft gently but tightly, stroking me as I sucked at her. Her hand moved slowly back and forth, palm at first brushing lightly across me but soon gripping me, eagerly tugging at my cock. I let out a breath of pleasure around the nipple in my mouth, gently nibbling in approval.

She released me, and I felt a hand push against my chest as the other gripped my shoulder; with surprising strength, she flipped me around and onto the sofa, reversing our positions. I kissed her hard and sank back as she moved, lips brushing across my cheek, sucking at my neck, kissing my chest and stomach. Her hands took hold of my cock and stroked, her lips curving in satisfaction as a drop of precum oozed from the tip. She stared straight at me, tits hovering inches over my erection as her hands worked, and then she lowered her head.

I leaned back, exhaling as I felt her lips close around the head of my cock. She gently bobbed up and down, keeping no more than the head in her mouth, and her tongue began to flick across, licking the precum from the tip. I took her head in one hand, bunching the hair up in my fingers, and took hold of one dangling tit in the other, weighing it in my palm, squeezing gently and feeling the large breast sink under my fingers. Her hand continued to move as she sucked and licked, and I closed my eyes, letting the feeling of that warm, wet mouth on my cock sink in. She moved ever lower, taking more of me into her mouth, tongue gliding over me with each upwards motion of her head. Her lips encircled my cock tightly, sucking as I breathed heavily. With a slow but determined move downwards, I felt her take as much of me as she could, the tip of my cock pressing against the back of her throat.

Fuuuuuuuuck. I had never had this before. Her tongue slid the length of my erection as she moved up, then I felt the warmth and wetness envelop me as she took me all the way again. The hand buried in her hair kept a firm hold on her head, holding her there; the hand on her tit rolled her nipple between index finger and thumb.

'Fuck,' I breathed, aloud this time, and disappointment welled up as she emerged, my cock sliding wetly out of her mouth. I opened my eyes. She glanced up, and I was struck by the difference in those big blue eyes; they stared at me with pure desire and sexuality, the innocence of the classroom gone entirely. She held my gaze, and her hands lifted her tits, the pink nipples seeming to point at me as she moved. Eyes still locked on mine, she wrapped her tits around my cock and squeezed.

'Fuck,' I let out again. With slow, careful, deliberate motions, she pressed her tits together against my cock and moved them gently up and down, stroking it between them. I felt the firmness of her round tits against me, the softness of the skin encircling me, and I let my head fall back as she worked my shaft, the head poking out from between her big breasts. The gentle pressure on my cock was unbelievable, the stroking motions unlike any other feeling. Then I felt wetness on the swelled head of my erection, and I glanced down in amazement. Her lips were wrapped around me again; her tongue, hot and wet and delicate, left broad licks over the tip of my cock as her tits, big and soft and perfect, jiggled around the shaft in alternating stroking motions that made my erection twitch and my balls begin to tighten in anticipation.

I practically roared with animalistic desire, getting to my feet and pulling her up to stand opposite me. I stepped out of my jeans, her hands frantically stroking as I did, and pressed our bodies together. Our lips danced against each other fiercely, tongues darting in and out of each other's warm mouths, each fresh with the other's juices. Her naked tits squashed up against my chest, the nipples unmistakeably hard against my skin. My cock, as completely erect as it had ever been, pushed hard against her, just above her entrance, and I could wait no longer. I pulled away from our kiss.

'Wait,' I murmured, regaining control of my sense momentarily. 'Do we need..?'

She tapped her arm, ahead of me. 'Implant,' she said around ragged, sensual breaths.

I grabbed her ass, and she yelped in surprise as I lifted her light frame bodily by the thighs, wrapping her legs around me, my mouth alternating frantically between lips and neck and breast. I could feel the warmth emanating from her pussy, the sticky drips of juice, the tip of my cock resting against her entrance, mere millimetres from penetration. I bucked my hips, but with no result: so with the moan of a desperate man, I twisted around and let us fall. She fell backwards, landing in a half-sitting, half-lying position on the sofa; I fell forwards onto her, and as the couch resisted and her body stopped falling, I moved just that inch more, and my cock plunged into her.

She gasped as I entered, nails already digging into my back. I rammed my lips against hers, groaning into her mouth, and thrust myself into her pussy. I felt her moans reverberating around my mouth as I moved, feeling the heat and wetness of her tight pussy gripping my cock, its tip curving gently to rub aggressively against her G-spot. One hand holding onto her, the other gripping one heavy tit, I planted heated kisses on every inch of skin I could reach, moving across her face and cheeks down her neck to her chest and the firm top of her breasts. My thrusting intensified, each movement eliciting fresh moans from her and sending fresh sensation through my entire body. Her legs wrapped around my waist tightly, pulling me into her; one of her hands massaged her other breast while the other squeezed my arm, my side, my back.

I could feel her body trembling, throaty moans echoing around the room. I buried my face in her neck, knowing that I would leave suspicious marks but far beyond caring. The hand grabbing her breast moved down, fingers scrabbling, and found her clit, my hand moving in quick circles and back-and-forth motions as my cock continued to plunge into her just millimetres below. She was breathing heavily into my ear, moaning and holding my hair tightly, and I felt her back begin to arch slightly as I pounded into her. I stole a glance at her face, and saw her eyes tightly closed, her lips contorting into a round O shape. I could feel her drenching my cock, tightening around it, and with a loud, wordless moan, her insides convulsed, squeezing my pulsing dick, pouring over it, clenching around its length as it jackhammered at her. I let out a groan, pressing my face against her, but she grabbed my cheeks and pulled my lips as hard as she could to hers, her tongue feeling for mine, her moans sounding into the hollow space of my mouth.

The trembling died away, and I stood, lifting her against me. She straddled me in midair, torso pressed firmly against mine, and I latched my mouth to her nipple, sucking hard. My cock, pointing straight up, slid neatly inside her as gravity shuffled her downwards slightly. Two breathy moans sounded in unison, and I mumbled around her tit, which filled my mouth and pillowed my face, 'Bedroom?'

She made no reply but to buck her hips, grinding me into her, and flail an arm in the vague direction of a door on the other side of the room. I carried her to the door, letting her keep thrusting her hips down and forwards, trying not to drop her as she manoeuvred me in and out of her hot, wet pussy. I slammed her against the door, thrusting my hips violently as I held her up against the wooden frame. With a supreme force of will, she managed to turn the handle and open the door, and I stumbled into her bedroom. I had no eyes for any of the details, only to notice that there was a large bed in the centre. That was all I needed to know, and I threw her down onto it, falling on top of her to kiss her desperately, as if her kisses were water and I were lost in a desert. To my surprise, she pushed me away, and I withdrew in confusion.

'What is it..?' I started to ask through heavy breaths, but she grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me, dropping me on my back in the middle of her mattress. She gazed into my eyes for just a moment, her stare hazy with pleasure, and climbed up to straddle me, swinging a leg over my hips with ease.

I exhaled as she reached down and took my cock, slimy and glistening and hard and throbbing, in her hand, and lowered herself down, the lips between her legs sliding over the head of my cock slowly. She held the position, gently stroking me and moving her hips in tiny circles. I watched as she closed her eyes, gently biting her lower lip, her free hand again bunching her hair up against her head; I could feel her wet walls grinding gently against my sensitive head. With a quiet moan, she lowered herself all the way, taking me completely inside her. I let out a gasp, feeling my cock slide fully into her, her insides gliding over me, lubricated and slippery with her own pleasure. She was amazingly tight, lips sucking at me as she gyrated upwards, making quiet wet slurping sounds as she moved. Her body glistening with the sweat of exertion and pleasure, her hands stroked my stomach and chest; she planted them firmly against my torso and leant down to kiss me, slowly riding me, gentle moans joining the noises of wetness. My hands held her by the waist, and I pulled her towards me.

She leaned further forwards, tits dangling right over my face as she moved up and down on me. I grabbed them, squeezing them together and pulling them into my mouth, my tongue wetly and clumsily slathering her nipples. I felt her movements begin to intensify as I sucked, and I moved my hips in counterpoint to her own as she thrust up and down, tits bouncing in my face and hair swinging across me. Again I felt her begin to tighten and her moans start shifting from throaty purrs to exclamatory shouts, her pussy pulsing around my cock as she manoeuvred me in and out of her, always moving just far enough that my throbbing head remained millimetres inside the entrance. She was moving expertly, ensuring that I constantly stayed inside her, sliding over the entirety of my cock, driving her hips downwards and spearing me in so deeply that I could feel my head being squeezed as the walls tightened near her cervix. Her thrusts grew faster and harder, her hands gripping me so tightly that her nails dug into my skin, her mouth open as she moaned loudly. As her insides went into spasm, she threw herself back, sitting upright and impaling herself completely on me, my cock disappearing entirely inside her. I let out breathy moans to match hers, feeling her squeezing erratically, clear sweet liquid gushing out onto my stomach. Her hips jerked and trembled; she fought for control of her body, gyrating her hips in large, twitchy circles that sent shivers of pleasure through my body as my cock rotated inside her.

Her face was the picture of pleasure, framed by messy hair; her hands took mine and brought them insistently to her chest, and I squeezed hard, palms pushing against her big, soft tits while my fingers rolled her nipples around. She let out a raggedly exhaled 'Fuuuuck', and collapsed on top of me, her face sinking into my neck.

'Alright?' I asked, a quiet breathy laugh escaping.

She rolled her hips contentedly, murmuring into my ear. 'You feel... so... fucking amazing...'

I grinned and pushed, rolling her onto her back, rotating on top of her without ever removing myself from her. She nibbled at my ear and neck, tingles of pleasure echoing throughout my body, and I began to slowly grind into her. My cock slid wetly in and out, the shaft caressing her clit as it passed into her, the head massaging all the most sensitive areas of the inside of her body. She gasped with each thrust, raising her legs to allow me deeper entrance, and I pushed hard, my glistening, throbbing erection vanishing inside her with each movement. She dug her fingers into my back, moving her hips towards mine as I entered, our sweaty bodies gliding over each other. I withdrew myself slowly, pulling back so that the tip of my cock was barely nestled between her lips, and then thrust back in hard and fast, pushing as deep as I could. She gave a whimper of absolute pleasure as I hit the sensitive spots deep inside her, holding me tighter; I repeated the move, drawing out with careful deliberation before burying my entire length inside her. Quiet 'oh' sounds escaped her as I moved, growing louder with each inwards plunge, her hips seemingly involuntarily driving in unison with mine.

I felt her begin to tighten once more. My cock was engulfed in hot, wet, squeezing walls, her pussy sucking me in. Her fingers, digging into my shoulders, trembled as her eyes sought mine and her mouth opened to release a wordless, vibrato moan. My balls tightened as she pulled me into her, and my cock twitched furiously against her embracing pussy as I breathed, 'I'm going... to...'

I tried to move my hips backwards, tried to pull out, but her arms wrapped around me and her legs held my waist, preventing me from moving away. 'I'm going to --'

Her arms tightened around me even further, her head bobbing a desperate nod, and the words 'Do it' escaped her lips, almost imperceptible amongst rapid breaths. Her eyes locked on mine, she wrapped her legs firmly around me and kissed me.

I exploded. Gaze unable to move from her blue eyes, lips desperately trying to kiss around the groan rising from my mouth, I thrust as hard and fast as I could, my cock pounding into her, ramming deep inside. Our moans tangled together in the space between our joined mouths as our bodies trembled, her pussy wildly squeezing, gripping, sucking at my cock. A wave of warm fluid gushed over me, and I lost all thought as a matching wave of intense sensation spread through my cock, the tightness in my balls moving up through me, through my cock, from the base through the shaft to flood from the tip.

I came inside her, my cock throbbing and twitching against her clenching insides, fluids meeting fluids as a thick jet of cum shot from me. I practically yelled into her mouth, kissing her so hard my lips ached, my cock spurting into her body, wave upon wave of sensation crashing over every inch of my skin: she held tightly, my torso squashing her firm but soft tits, her legs restraining me, my lips attacking hers, my hands gripping her body, my cock pulsing as it released, her pussy squeezing and flowing with juices as she released simultaneously. My thrusting descended into desperate twitching, pushing myself as far inside her as I could, able to feel nothing but pure exhilaration. With one last wave of pleasure, I spurted one last jet of hot cum into her, and collapsed on top of her.

For the merest moment, my entire world ceased to exist, and when it returned she was holding my face in her hands, tenderly pressing her lips to mine. I opened my eyes and saw hers firmly closed, her attention on nothing but the kiss and the aftershocks of pleasure electrifying her body. Rolling from atop her, onto my side, I gently returned her kiss, my lips folding around hers, the gentlest of bites to her lower lip. She let out a long breath and opened her eyes, shining blue stare penetrating me as surely as I had penetrated her. I slowly withdrew my cock, in its grudging transition back to flaccidity, feeling her insides suck at me one last time as I slid from her.




Miss April



April pressed her fingers into her soft, wet flesh. Her spread legs invited the world, and the man immediately near her. Her nipples were peaking, a tight contraction of the small cells that made up her most immediately seen attributes besides her bright, blue-grey eyes. 

And it was those eyes that pulled most people, forget just men, quite a few women as well, into her presence. It was a fierce combination coupled with her rich, black hair and her demanding sensuality. 

And now it was that sensuality that pulled Erik's mind from all thoughts he had been thinking, perhaps any thought he had ever thought in his life. 

She smiled her evil smile, small upcurl at the corners of her mouth. Her fingers continued to slip deeper into her, her middle one brushing against her clitoris brought her enough of a jolt she had to open her mouth partly into a small "o" that was duplicated at the entrance to her vagina, where her middle finger slipped inside her. 

She opened her eyes enough to let Erik know he was being watched. It was through her eyes she commanded him. Even now, seeing her looking at him was having an effect. His mouth had been open for some time, his body too submitted to her will to react other than in a base manner, just the image of her perfectly shaped, nude body was enough to keep him still. A body she put many hard hours of sweat into to make it obey her will. There were many things she could command, and it all started with the axiom that one could not begin to think of controlling someone else, unless you could control yourself. 

She knew her body. She controlled her body. Brought it pleasure or...pain. Her choice, such as it would always be. And thus she controlled men. Men like Erik. Erik commanded men of his own. He was an established powerhouse all his own, and yet....even powerful men needed to be controlled. They yearned for it. They begged for it before her. She loved it. Lived for it. And there was no man she couldn't take in this manner... Well, no man who didn't want to be controlled in this way. And there were many of them. And they found her, she never had to look. 

She watched Erik react to her slightest movements. Even now she was releasing enough wetness that it was accumulating in the folds at the entrance of her "pussy", they would say. She preferred vagina. There was something more powerful in that word. "Pussy" was nice, but is was soft. Lacking power. "Cunt" was abusive, certainly indicating less dominance, hardcore with little preamble or thought. The language of an animal. 

Vagina, was hers, with a capital V. She controlled its power, let herself release, relax fully. There was never any nervousness. She would bind the man before her with her glistening folds and aroma. Moisture has such a powerful effect, always. And besides, she thought, as she slipped her finger out and brought it to her lips, she very much enjoyed how she tasted.

She drew her hand from her mouth, her lips drawing off every bit trace of her fluids as her tongue slipped between her fingers before slipping back into her mouth. 

"Oh Erik, my keep," she said, often referring to her lovers as her keep. "That tastes so good. Would you like some?" She asked, raising one eyebrow. The effect on Erik was profound as he sat there with his cock in his hand. Yes, "cock". She liked the word. Just as she liked to be "fucked", not be made love to. It's just that there were different velocities, pressures at being fucked. And, as always, it was under her command. Slow, deep, penetrating. Fast and shallow. A mixture of the two combined with different body positioning. It was all so...her way.

Erik's hand on his cock froze as he waited for her next words. He was hers fully. She could tell him to do just about anything for the promise of what was before him. Perhaps one day she would find out just how far she could make them go. 

Erik nodded. It was a small nod. One. She had already trained him that anything more than subtlety was not well received by her. This was his fourth time back from such learning. Her dissatisfaction was always expressed swiftly, firmly, and without recourse. He knew that if he were to have anything to do with her and her body, he had to get past the directives of her mind and her will. But there was something about Erik she enjoyed toying with. More so than with others. Some men had been dismissed after their first digression. Seldom would any get beyond two. Yet here was Erik. On number four. She smiled and opened her lips a bit more.

She slid her finger back into herself, brushing against her clitoris a bit more firmly than before. She felt her eyebrows contract with the sensation. 

Erik started to move, to sit back and adjust himself. He almost took his hand off of his cock, but a small tilt of her head and a lowering of one of her brows froze him in place. His eyes darted about slightly, and she could read his thoughts in them. He was wondering if he had moved too much. If he had blown it in some way he couldn't readily imagine. 

She held her fingers still for a moment, watching him almost shake with the muscle tension his position was causing. She wondered how long she could make him stay there before he collapsed.

She smiled again. Later for that. They had already been at this for nearly forty minutes. Him watching her trace her hands over her body, enjoying herself. She had allowed him to stroke himself off slowly. She was surprised at how immediately hard he had gotten, and stayed. He was quite fit. 

Her smile had eased his mind, but not his body. He stayed where he was like a good boy. She made another small, expanding circle with her fingers, collecting her own moisture until she could actually feel enough to cause it to drip. Two, maybe three drips worth. She raised her hand up, and in the soft light of the room one large, clear drop could be seen pendant on the end of her middle finger. She tiled her head back slightly and watched Erik's mouth open more as she opened her own.

As she got to her lips, she let the drop touch her bottom lip and drew a line across it to deposit the rest of her "collection" there. Then she leaned forward, trying to prevent it from gliding into her mouth. And with steady, calm movement, she leaned her upper torso toward him while keeping her head in the proper position to prevent her drop from doing anything other than staying there, right where she put it. She felt the shift of her breasts as she leaned closer to Erik, close, closer yet, until she was almost brushing against his own lips. Erik made the smallest movement to adjust his head to better match her own. 

She looked directly into his eyes and stopped her forward movement. A warning. Erik froze completely. He even stopped breathing. 

Satisfied he wasn't going to do anything more, she moved ever so slowly forward to touch her bottom lip to his. She kept her eyes on him as she slid her lip against his, transferring her moisture. She could feel him shake. She could see his face turn red, his eyes collect moisture of their own, and they were concerned. He gasped slightly, trying his best to hold it in. And then she felt the hot spray against her leg and the immediate, and slightly alkaline scent of sperm. She moved back a bit and looked down. He had shot across her thighs and all the way up to folds of her vagina. She let out a measured breath and felt it trickle down the thin landing strip of pubic hair she kept above her vagina and slowly make its way down to her lips there, tickling slightly and mixing with her own moisture. The rest of it made its way with gravity down her thighs. 

She tilted her head, as though not quite sure how to take this. It was the first time he came for her. Granted, it wasn't when she wanted, but she realized he was only man.

She looked down and touched herself with the same fingers she used before and collected some of his sperm, wiping upward so that it pushed into her slightly, and brought it up to her face. She looked at Erik and held the finger between them. He was shaking still, his face a deeper red than just seconds ago. His eyes were on her and they held fear. Yes. Fear. 

She brought her middle finger to her lips and proceeded to insert it in her mouth deeply. She drew the finger out, her lips forming perfectly around it, and once out, used her tongue to press against the roof of her mouth. She slid her tongue around and tasted. Finally, she swallowed. It was Erik, all right. Manly to the last.

She smiled. "See you in two days," she said. She watched him nod once, then added. "And Erik, don't touch yourself until then." Erik nodded again. 

She watched him slowly compose himself and draw away from her. He left the room and she could hear him fumble for his clothes in the hall. She heard him leave and close the door softly. 

Only then did she go back to pleasing herself. Only this time she had a bit more lubrication to help finish her off. That, and the warm scent of her keep, Erik.



Miss B and the Bachelorette Party



This is my fourth submission in the series. If you have further ideas or suggestions for further stories feel free. EVERYONE in this submission is OVER 18 YEARS OF AGE. - RS

*****

After the debauchery at the pool party, Miss B tried to lay low for a while and avoid Loretta altogether. At this point, it seemed Loretta had gotten what she wanted but B needed to get revenge. 

A few days later, she was invited by her friend Courtney Canns to her Bachelorette party for her second marriage. Courtney and Miss B had known each other as cheerleaders at their alma mater, Beaverley University. Courtney Canns currently works at the local hospital, Beaverley County Regional as a registered nurse. The newlywed couple had just recently moved back to Beaverley Heights after a hiatus in the city. Courtney, a brunette, was slightly older than the women, with a very shapely body and a tremendous set of EE sized tits. In fact, her measurements seemed to match Miss B in every way. 

After sending out the invitations, the bridal party consisted of Jenna Juggs, Wendy Whoppers, Miss B, Loretta Luscious and Courtney's younger sister Candace. To Miss B's relief, Loretta couldn't make it to the event. On the night of the party, B carpooled with Wendy Whoppers, gifts in hand, over to Courtney's house. Wendy, in usual fashion, had already swilled down half a bottle of champagne by the time they reached the house. B had decided to wear a pink cocktail dress and matching pink high heels. Wendy wore a black and white striped long sleeve dress with black metal studded heels. Courtney opens the door; she is wearing a skin tight red cocktail dress with matching heels. 

"Woohoo! It's the bride to be! 

Congratulations!" Miss B says as she hugs her friend. 

"Thank you for coming girls." Courtney ushers the two housewives inside. "Since we've moved back to Beaverley Heights, we don't really have a great deal of friends here." 

"Don't worry girl," Wendy responds with a hiccup. "We're gonna teach you how to party again!" 

As they went inside, Jenna Juggs was already sitting in the room with a martini in her hand. 

"Yay! The party is all here!" Jenna smiles; "I fixed y'all drinks. Now sit down and place your presents here." 

Sitting the presents on the table, the girls sit around the L-shaped couch in the living room and start chattering away. 

"I wanted to thank you girls for coming on such a short notice." Courtney started. "I know Loretta or my sister Candace couldn't make it. I heard you guys had some fun at Loretta's Labor Day party! Gee...I wish I hadn't missed that." 

The girls all looked at each other guiltily; eventually all stealing a glance at B. 

"Yeah about that..." Jenna added; she quickly changed the conversation and grabbed her present and handed it off to Courtney. 

"I think it's time for presents. Here Courtney. Open this one first." Pensively, Candace opens her present. 

"Let me guess...bath salts." Opening the box, Candace pulls out a pair of furry pink handcuffs and a leopard print blindfold with pink trim. The girls all giggle. 

"Not quite. Just a little something to help you and John keep things frisky in the bedroom now that you are getting married." Wendy smiled and took a sip of her martini. 

"Heh! Just wait till you see what I got for you." Jenna, with a grin on her face, went to the kitchen and started to pour a large round of shots. Wendy grabbed her present and handed it to Courtney. 

"Mine next." Courtney started to unwrap her present. 

"Hmm...what did Wendy the Big Bad Whore get me for?...Wait...What the fuck is this!" Courtney pulls out a gargantuan black rubber dildo; the women marvel at the sight as it is nearly a foot long and extremely wide. 

"Hehe." Wendy starts to talk. "Just a little something to keep you occupied while John is away on all those business trips." 

Courtney was blushing red with the dildo wobbling back and forth in her hand. B seized the opportunity and handed B her present. 

"Here, Courtney. Last but not least." Courtney grabbed B's present and started to open it. 

"Ohh! A pair of Loubiton wedges!" B smiled. 

"Yeah, I thought these would come in handy when you guys stroll around the beach on your honeymoon in Tahiti." 

"Ahh! Thanks B!" Courtney bent over to give B a hug and a peck on the cheek. Courtney smiled but reverted her attention back to the dildo. 

"Umm...Wendy this is a little much. It's so um...big." Jenna made a laugh as she finished preparing the shots. 

"Trust me, Courtney. I got one just like it and you will be wishing John went on his trips more often." The girls giggled. Jenna grabbed the plate full of shots and headed to the table. 

"Time to liquor up, ladies. We are going to get white girl wasted tonight." Wendy let out a holler. 

"Already?" B said pensively; she thought that she was going to be the designated driver for their drive home tonight. 

"Oh ya girl. We got a big night ahead of us and one more surprise." Jenna sat the tray around and started handing out shots. Wendy started to make a toast. 

"Cheers to the bride to be, Miss Courtney Canns. Or should I say the future Mrs. Jamieson." They all rose up their glasses and took shots. It had been awhile since B had drunk straight alcohol and it burned fiercely; she quickly grabbed for her martini to wash the taste down. 

Suddenly the doorbell rang. 

"I wonder who that could be?" Courtney excused herself and slipped to the door. They all watched as Courtney opened the door to find a gigantic Black man in a police officer's uniform. He wore an officer hat, large belt, navy blue dress shirt, badge and black trousers. The shirt looked several sizes too small as his muscles seemed poised to rip out at any moment. 

"May I help you?" Courtney asked. 

"Yes. Are you Miss Courtney Canns?" The officer asked. 

"Why yes. Yes I am. Is there a problem, Officer?" 

"Yes. Yes there is. Can you let me in to explain?" Cautiously, she opened the door and let the man in. He didn't seem too official but he didn't look threatening either. Wendy had quietly pulled the table aside and placed a chair in front of the L couch.  

"Come on in Officer. Courtney, you've been a bad girl." B put two and two together. 

'Oh this guy is a stripper.' B smiled. 'This could be fun.' 

"Yes. Yes you have, Miss Canns." The black stripper guided the bachelorette by the hand and had her take a seat in the chair. Courtney sat down and the officer straddled her on the chair; his waist inches from her face as she noticed the bulge at his crotch. 

"Um, Officer? I?" The stripper put his finger to her lips. 

"Quiet, girl! You speak when I tell you to speak!" Suddenly, he rips off his shirt, pulls down his trousers and strips down to a black Speedo. The girls go into a riot as he gyrated his waist in front of her face. But what they're staring at most is his giant Black manhood practically spilling out of his banana hammock. 

"Let's celebrate with our new friend." Wendy cheers; handing out another round of shots. 

"Bribing an officer is only going to get Miss Canns in more trouble." The black man jeers; grabbing a shot from the tray. Courtney is now entering the harmless game. 

"Oh come on officer. One shot won't hurt." The stripper points her finger at her menacingly. 

"What did I tell you about talking!" The stripper took his shot and the women followed suit. To the ladies' delight, the stripper pulled himself closer to Courtney and pressed her face against his crotch. 

"Next time that pretty little mouth speaks, I'm gonna have to shove something in it to keep it quiet." Wendy eggs him on. 

"Ya, do it!" The stripper then moves over to the table; Courtney has a wide eyed look on her face. 

"Well what do we have here?" He picked up the handcuffs. 

"Oh fuck! This is so embarrassing." The stripper turned around. 

"This is your last warning girl...don't make me gag you!" 

"But well...I..." 

Grabbing the blindfold and the cuffs, he moved back over to Courtney in the chair. 

"It seems that someone can't follow simple instructions from a peace officer." He clicked on the handcuffs and pulled her wrists backwards behind her back. 

"Hey...WTF?" 

"Yeah lock her up!" Wendy jeered. He then snugly placed the leopard print blindfold over her eyes. Blindfolded and handcuffed, the stripper grabbed a full shot glass from Jenna. 

"Now you can have a shot! Open up!" Before she can finish swallowing, the stripper had placed another to her lips and started to pour. 

"And another!" 

'Oh shit!' B thought; Courtney had always been a lightweight when it came to alcohol and with three shots deep she figured that Courtney must be quite drunk. 

"You're going to have to do everything I tell you to, aren't you?" He asked. 

"Yes, Officer!" Courtney responded obediently. The stripper went over to the table and grabbed the dildo. 

"So you like big black dildos, Miss Canns?"

"Well...I can't say I know, Officer!" 

The stripper walked over to Courtney and made a comparison with the dildo against his crotch. 

"It's a shame it's not life-like. It's just a bit smaller than my own." Courtney made a laugh. 

"Hehe, right Mr. Officer." The stripper then tucked his thumbs underneath his speedo and pulled it down; his massive Black cock snapped to attention. The girls gasped. 

"Umm...Courtney." B blurted out. But she stopped herself; marveling at the size of his massive black dong. With the dildo in hand, he started to push it against her lips. 

"Well, let's see how good you are at sucking a big black dildo, Miss Canns." Inebriated, Courtney opened her mouth to let the tip of the dildo in. She started to slurp away; saliva dribbling down her chin. 

"Very good." Expertly, he pushed the dildo down her throat. 'Oh my god. What is happening?' B said to herself; inexplicably reaching under her dress to play with herself. With the dildo slick with Courtney's saliva, the stripper pulled it out. 

"You see? That wasn't so bad. Good girls that follow instructions deserve a reward. How 'bout another shot?" Courtney hiccupped. 

"Well I?" Before she could protest, the stripper poured another shot down her throat. But before he went to lift up the dildo, he grabbed his cock and started to stroke it. 

'Oh my god!' B thought in her head. 'He isn't going to do what I think he is going to do.' 

"Now take as much of this dildo as you can." Obediently, Courtney sucked his cock. 

"Oh fuck...mmmph...did this thing...mmphh...get bigger...mmpphh...or something?" Aggressively, he thrust his cock deeper down her throat until she gagged. 

"That's it." Holding her by the back of the head, he pushed his swollen glands down her throat; tears streaming down her face. Courtney's face bobbed back and forth onto his cock; making a short gagging sound. Dirty thoughts stirred around B's head; she wished her mouth was being stuffed by his giant manhood. B looked around to see Jenna and Wendy pleasuring themselves. Pulling out his cock, saliva soaking the top of Courtney's dress, the stripper pulled up his G-string speedo and then removed the blindfold. 

"You liked that big black dildo, didn't you Miss Canns?" "Yes." She replied. 

"Very much so." 

The stripper grinned and started to stroke his bulge again. 

"Now ladies, this is the private part of the show. Is the bride going to be the lucky girl?" 

"The lucky girl?" Courtney replied as he removed her handcuffs. "Wait. You mean...have sex with you?" 

The stripper grinned. 

"Well that's why you ladies paid extra right?" 

"Come on Courtney." Wendy added, "This guy wasn't cheap; Loretta, Jenna and I had to split the cost three ways. Besides, we can keep a secret. Just us girls." 

Courtney, drunk as she was, wouldn't have it. 

"Absolutely not, I am getting fucking married." Before the night collapses, Wendy has a stroke of genius; grabbing the dildo from the stripper's hands. 

"I have an idea. How 'bout we leave it to fate. I'll spin this dildo around the table. Whoever it lands on is the lucky girl." The girls creep towards the sides of the table. 

"Here we go." Wendy yelps as she gives the rubber phallus a good spin on the hardwood of the table. The dildo spins around and around until it finally it stops right in front of B. 

"You lucky bitch!" Wendy yelps. Before B can mumble any sort of word in protest, the stripper leads her towards Courtney's bedroom but Jenna stops them; upset that she didn't win any sort of consolation prize. 

"Oh no I feel like we need a dinner and a show here. How 'bout you two get comfortable here on the sofa. Move aside girls." 

As the girls step aside, Wendy helps B with her dress. Taking off her pink dress; B sits in the chair in her white lace push up bra and matching thong panties. The stripper pulls down his speedo again but this time to his ankles. Kicking it aside, the stripper starts to stroke his cock; the mammoth pipe growing in size with every stroke. 

"Oh shit!" Courtney yells, "He really is that big!" 

"I saw you check out this dick earlier." The stripper begins; approaching B on the couch. "Now, let's see you put those pretty lips of yours to good use." 

In a trance, B opened her mouth to let him in. After a few cursory strokes with her tongue, B placed her lips over his cock head and began to bob her head up and down enthusiastically. 

"Yeah just like that, bitch." The stripper closed his eyes and stroked her hair as she did her best to take his dick in her mouth. B couldn't take it deep, but her suction was good and she redistributed the saliva evenly along his shaft after several strokes. 

"Mmm. That's good baby! But I know you can do better!" B redoubles her efforts; twisting her hands around his shaft and taking him deeper in her mouth, gagging sounds escaping from her throat. The stripper sighed and moaned involuntarily. 

"Damn, B can suck a dick!" Wendy exclaimed. 

"Let me have a look at them nice ass titties." One by one, he grabbed her breast with both hands and then pulled them out of her bra. Content, he pinched her nipples as she sucked. 'Oh fuck, I'm so fucking horny right now.' She said to herself; her panties were getting really wet and she loved the satisfaction of a big black cock filling her mouth once again. 

"My god this is fucking hot!" exclaims Jenna; a hand in between her thighs and inside her panties. Content, the stripper pulls out his dick strokes it and then tells B to lean back. He then rubs his dick along her soaked panties; teasing her. 

"You like what my cock is doing to you right now?" 

"Mmmph! Yes!" The sensation was too much for her to bear. Impatient, B slides off her panties and splays her legs on the couch. 

"Mmm. I can't take it! Fuck me now already!" 

"Yeah fuck that pussy!" Jenna yells. The two ladies are enthralled. Courtney is in disbelief at all that is going on. 

"I can't believe this is happening! In my own fucking living room!" 

But that didn't stop the stripper as he pushed against B's entrance. "Oh god" After pushing harder, the stripper slid in with a pop; her pussy engorged with his black mammoth dick. 

"Oh my god, Yes!" Pulling her legs apart, B watched as he pummeled her pussy; thrusting back and forth again and again and again. She was slipping off the couch, so he pulled out and laid her on her side. Pulling her towards his muscular frame with her back to him, he slapped his slippery dick against her pussy. 

"Oh fuck!" With a yelp, she watched as he pushed his way back in. 

"Goddamn! You got a tight ass pussy!" The other women could see everything as he grabbed her by the waist and continue to pummel her with his massive black cock. After she had had enough, he had her get into a cowgirl position. Straddling his waist, B lowered herself onto his massive dong. B kept up her bouncing for at least fifteen minutes until she could feel herself cumming. 

"Wait...Wait...I'm cum...cum." B thrust her head back as she climaxed all over his cock. The sensation was too much for him. 

"Oh fuck!" The stripper arched his back, contracted his buttocks lifting B upwards and unloaded onto her pussy; showering it with a hot sticky waves of jism. 

B collapsed on top of him; her pussy was swollen and soaking wet with cum running out of her stretched pussy and down the insides of her legs and on to the stripper's thighs. Pulling her off, he got up and put back on his clothes. Jenna interjected; she was a bitch in heat at this point. 

"Hey, is it our turn next?" The stripper laughed. 

"Sorry ladies. My time is up. I have some buddies down at the club though that are gonna love you girls." Courtney is shell shocked at what has just happened. Disappointed, Jenna and Wendy escort him out and then wink at B. 

"That was some bachelorette party." 

THE END



Miss B at the Gym



This is my second submission in the series. If you have further ideas or suggestions for further stories feel free. EVERYONE in this submission is OVER 18 YEARS OF AGE. - RS

*****

Miss Beatrice Bustee or "B" as her friends called her had come back from her vacation in Brazil so relaxed. B no longer saw herself as discarded by her husband but now a new and improved piece of ass. It also helped that her husband was completely oblivious of what had occurred between her and the stranger at the beach. To stay upbeat, she felt like she would need to step up her fitness level and keep herself occupied; it was such a lonely life as a housewife in Beaverley Heights. Her best friend, Jenna Juggs or "J" for short, had recommended this brand new fitness club in town, BBC Fitness. 

'Sure' she thought, 'Why not.' 

Arriving at the gym in her usual workout attire of skintight yoga pants, sneakers and padded sports bra, B went to the front desk where she was greeted by a very beautiful and voluptuous black woman wearing a collared polo shirt and yoga pants. After a little small chat, B heard some pretty good news. It turned out that the owner was Rod Sterling, brother of one of her good friends, Loretta Luscious. After conversing with Jenna beforehand, Loretta had pulled out all the stops and arranged for a complimentary private session for B with the head personal trainer of BBC Fitness, Lucius Sterling; nephew of the owner Rod. 

"You know," the receptionist named Denise asked, "You must have good friends. The wait list for this place is crazy long and Mrs. Luscious already took care of the paperwork for your uniform." 

"Uniform?" B asks. "What uniform?" The receptionist smiles and hands her a white wrapped package from a cubby behind the desk. 

"Oh, standard uniform for all our VIP members. You are getting the star treatment. Now if you would grab your things, please follow me and we'll get you started." 

Smiling, B takes the package and follows Denise to the locker room. She notices that despite the high demand for this place, the gym is very quiet. 

'Hmm, how peculiar.' She thought to herself. The two eventually made it to the locker room and walked in. Everything was state of the art. Even the locker room had brand new lockers and full body showers and an enormous sauna. Eventually, they stopped at an open locker the size of a phone booth. 

"OK, Miss Bustee. This is you. Number 044. I will be outside while you change. Call me when you're ready." B smiled and thanked the receptionist before she started to undress. Quickly, she stripped down to her black G-string, placed her clothes in the open locker and then reached for the box with her new uniform. 

'Hmm, well let's see what's in this thing.'

Opening the box, B laid out the articles of the outfit on the bench one by one: white cotton headband, white cotton wrist guards, white knee length cotton socks and a hot pink spandex thong leotard with V-neck front. The socks, wrist and headbands have embroidered in large black letters, I 

'Um I don't think so. I like wearing sexy things but this is ridiculous. I can't wear this in a public place.' She had seen a leotard like this in 80's fitness videos but never in real life. B's normal workout attire, although slimming, was always modest and this leotard was just a little too extreme for her taste. 

Nervous, B scurried out of the locker room and hiding behind the door, she calls for the receptionist. 

"Um, Denise?" B calls out; she had grabbed a clean towel and wraps herself in it. 

"Yes, Miss Bustee. Is there a problem?" B makes a grimace. 

"Um, the uniform? It's a little um...revealing. Do you think I can just wear my usual workout clothes?" Denise shook her head. 

"I'm really sorry, Miss B. But those are the regulations per the VIP club contract. Um...I can get you some compression shorts if that would help with um...some of your coverage issues?" B thought for a second. She knew if Jenny went through all this hassle to get her on the list and she bailed out now that Jenny would be furious. 

"Sure, Sure." Quickly, Denise rushed to the front office and came back with a pair of opaque white compression shorts. 

"Will this work?" B grabbed them. 

"Um, sure, sure. Thanks." B closed the door and Denise waited outside. After trying on the knee length socks, B removed her G-string and pulled on the opaque white spandex compression shorts before sliding on the leotard and the headband and matching wrist bands. Sliding on her sneakers, she looked at her reflection in the full body mirror in her locker. The low-cut, scooped V-neck of this pink leotard revealed a little more of her supple cleavage than she would have liked; especially for a simple workout center environment. Her tits especially looked like balloons bursting from the latex fabric. The compression shorts, although very tight, at least helped conceal her ass a little bit. 

"Well, here we go." Taking a deep breath, B adjusts her outfit; wiping off her make-up and tying her long flowing blonde hair in a white scrunchie. Throwing her clothes in the locker, B heads outside to meet with Denise. 

"Alright, follow me please." The receptionist smiles as she ushers B to follow her down the hall to a private gym training room. Sliding a card key, the door opens and Denise ushers B in. The room is complete with state of the art bench, shoulder and leg press machines and a large squat rack with weights all over the place in racks. Mirrors are on every corner of the room and the floor is filled with mats. Exercise balls and leg wrap weights are placed in a corner of the room. 

"Mr. Sterling," Denise calls to a man doing reverse pull-ups upside down on a pull-up bar. "Your appointment, Mrs. Bustee is here." 

"Thanks, Denise." Says Lucius as he flips over and walks over to B. He is wearing black compression shorts and tennis shoes. A gold chain is hanging down his neck and he is shirtless; his body is rippling from head to toe with muscles. Mr. Sterling reaches out his hands. 

"Mrs. Bustee? I'm Lucius Sterling," They shake hands. 

"Pleasure to meet you; I'll be your personal trainer today. Mrs. Juggs says great things about you." B smiles; unamused by his flattery. 

"I am sure. This place is pretty highly recommended. I heard the wait list was for months." Lucius grinned. 

"Is this your first time to BBC Fitness?" 

"Yes, yes it is." B made a halfhearted laugh and looked down at her attire. "Not gonna lie, Mr. Sterling, I am not a big fan of the "uniform," that your gym issues. It's a little...um...risqué for my tastes." 

Mr. Sterling smiles; eyeing B from head to toe. 

"Yes, but it's for a purpose. Certain clothes restrict the blood flow from your extremities; resulting in cramping and poor circulation during exercise. It's important to keep your arms and legs free for all ranges of motion." He responds; raising his arms in a circular motion. 

"Now, before we start our first session, we will begin some stretching techniques. We need to make sure you are all limber and your body is all relaxed." Denise could be heard closing the door. 

"I'll leave you to be. Enjoy, Mrs. Bustee." B intently followed him over to the mat as he guided her next to him. 

"Now first, let's stretch those hamstrings by bending over at the waist and clasping your ankles." With straight legs, she bent to grab both of her ankles; showing off her wonderful heart shaped ass. She had performed stretches like this all the time at gyms and back in her cheerleading days but the outfit she was wearing made her feel vulnerable. 

"Very good, now hold that position for a few seconds." Nervous, B held the position but she felt the tight leotard was thinning to almost sheer at her crotch. A pair of lips protruded between her thighs in such a seductive manner she knew it wouldn't take long for him to not keep his eyes from staring at her. He pulled back to admire from afar. 

"Good. Now push your feet apart and grab at your ankles from side to side." She obediently, continued the routine, her ass bouncing back and forth with every motion from ankle to ankle. 

"Now take your right arm, pull it against your chest with your left and bend downwards." B followed his motions. 

"Good, now repeat the process, with your other arm." Satisfied, he told her to stand back up and led her to the railing next to the mirrored wall. 

"Good next, we will stretch your quadriceps. Take your ankle and pull it back with your hand at the ankle upright while holding your balance." After a few seconds, Lucius had her release the stretch. 

"Now let's do some squats." After instructing her into a crouched position, Lucius had her bounce her ass up and down like a stripper to his satisfaction. 

'OK, dude, where are you going with this?' She mutters to herself; feeling like a stripper in a rapper video. It's only then B notices the enormous bulge in his crotch region like a constricted garden hose. 'Oh shit,' her eyes widen. 'He's hung like a horse.' Trying to not attract attention, she carefully keeps staring. Lucius' tight, black spandex shorts contained an overstated and blatantly obvious bulge that was shifted off center to his left upper thigh. B gulped. 

"Now that we are all warmed up, let's get some cardio going." He walks over and grabs a medicine ball. Sitting the medicine ball on the mat, Lucius instructs her to do some sit ups. She pulls up to throw it into his hands. However, B pulls up too hard as he moves forward and she accidentally smacks her face against his crotch. 

"Oh easy there..." B blushes, 

"I'm sorry...I...well I" Her eyes are now fixated on his cock. 

"Nonsense, let's work out those legs." She gets on her knees and bends over as he attaches leg weights to her. As he has her pull up, he rests his palm on her ass to hold her steady. She grows uncomfortable but continues to do her leg stretches. After a few more reps, he has her stop and takes off the leg weights. 

"Alright, time for some strength training." She gets into a squat position at the shoulder bars and performs a squat as he spots her; only he is very close to her. As she bends down, her ass brushes his crotch. 

"Very good. You're a natural." A few more reps and Lucius has her place the shoulder bar back on the rack. 

"Now, I think it's time for some intensity training. I hope you're up for it." B makes a half-hearted laugh. 

"I am sure I'll do just fine."

Lucius instructs B onto her stomach with the medicine ball. 

"Now, I'm going to have you do some sit ups but focus on your mechanics." Obediently, B lay down on the ground and put her hands behind her head. 

"Ok when you're ready." As B pulled up; she stops in disbelief as she looks to find Lucius had quietly pulled down his compression shorts and whipped out his massive dong. 

"Wha...what what are you doing?" She nervously exclaimed. She felt like she should get up but her eyes and her whole body seemed transfixed on his mammoth black cock. 

"Don't worry babe, I like to give my clients a little extra motivation." Lucius grins; stroking his long black python as he walked up to her and stood hovering above her waistline. As he stood there, his cock continued to swell and grow until it was pointing straight up. 

"This next exercise will involve two motions; sit ups and sucking. Help develop them throat muscles." Before B could protest, Lucius guides his cock up to her mouth. 

"Now open those lips up for me, Mizz Bustee." In a trance, B opens her mouth for Lucius. Still stroking his giant black cock, Lucius brings his helmet in and out of her mouth. A few more strokes and B notices the sensation is driving Lucius insane. Before she can lie back down on the mat, Lucius grabs her by the back of the head, firmly clenching her white scrunchie, and starts to shove his cock down her mouth. 

"What the fuck!" she mumbles before her mouth is buried with cock. He starts thrusting towards her as she bucks at him fucking her face with his massive black python. 

"That's it, Mizz B, work up that intensity. Relax the throat muscles...Fuck...yeahhh." Lucius cries outs as he watches B try to take his cock deep into her throat but gags in failure as she realizes she cannot; spit dribbling from her lips onto her leotard top. 

"That's it baby. Take all of that big, black cock in your mouth!" He stood there as the gorgeous, smoking hot B sucked on his cock; taking it as far into her mouth as she could. B hummed and purred as she gobbled on his fuck meat; quickly losing the tiny amount of pretense this was a workout. 

'So big, ' she moaned, to herself, taking it out and rubbing it over her face, looking up at him as she did, 'So fucking big.' With her lips planted firmly at the base of his cock, Lucius felt himself about to cream and pulled out. 

"Easy there, Mizz B. We need to finish the workout." Deftly, he grabbed with both hands the front of her leotard and ripped it open. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" B stammered in disbelief. 

"You need some cardio. Now cup those big titties of yours together, Mizz B." Without giving a moment to consider the request, B leaned forward and pushed together her enormous melons with both hands. Lucius grabbed her tits with both hands and wrapped them around his stiff as steel hard-on. 

"Now move up and down. Up and down." Breathing heavily, B began moving her tits along his cock; the spit and pre-cum from her blowjob eased the passage in her deep cleavage. 

"That's it, Mizz B. In Rhythm like that. Damn that feels good!" He stammers; fondling her tits with both hands. 

B kept him fucking her tits as long as he could last; sliding her huge melons up and down, up and down his cock until he groaned. She felt his dick swell and his balls tighten. She held her tits together and waited for the blast but instead he pulled out. 

"Phewwww!! Nope, nope we have a lot more work to do." Grabbing her by the hand, Lucius tells B to get into a squatting position. Lucius gets on his back and tells her to stand over his head. 

"Now, like before I want you to perform squats. Make sure to go down as low as you can go." At this point, B was in a drunken stupor; oblivious at what was occurring. Obediently, she got into a squatting position over his head. Suddenly, as B is dropping down, he tells her to hold it. Grabbing her white lycra shorts with both hands, he tears it at the seams. 

"Hey...what the fuck are you doing?" She yells in protest as she lifts up her ass but Lucius holds her down by the waist; 

"No...no..hold that position for a sec. It's time for your reward." Before, she can mumble in protest, Lucius pulls back the band of her thong leotard. Clasping her ass with both hands, Lucius brings her pussy to his face and starts lapping away. B lets out a stifled moan. 

"Oh my god." Steadying herself with her hands on the floor while she is in squatting position, B looks down as Lucius expertly tongue fucks her. She lets out a sigh; her right hand reaches for her breast and starts pinching her nipple. B knew Lucius was having his way from her but she just couldn't bring herself to say no. 

"Oh fuck...that's good pussy!" Lucius exclaims; in between laps. "Now, go up and down." He says; obediently she goes up and down onto his face. Lucius sticks his finger into her wet pussy and plays with her clit as he continues to slurp all of her pussy juices. 

"Oh yeahh." She moans and starts to grind her pussy down onto his tongue, and he slides in and out faster and faster; like it was the last one he would ever taste. 

Suddenly B stopped bobbing up and down, threw her head back and let out a scream of pleasure. She continued to scream out 

"Oh My God!" as her muscles locked and it seemed like her pussy was exploding all over Lucius' face. She could feel herself beginning to cum much to the chagrin of Lucius. 

"No not yet, Mizz Bustee. We gotta finish up for the next set." 

B's breath seemed to get caught in her throat as he said the words; she felt like a bitch in heat at this point. B got up as Lucius rose and stood directly in front of her. His strong black hands fondled her as he kissed her breasts. Lucius grabbed her hand and led her over to the pull down bar machine; he quickly pulled the pin to a twenty pound weight. Sitting on the bench, he slowly started to turn her around as he kissed the back of her neck. 

"Now baby, straddle my waist and grab the handle bars." Obediently, she straddled him and lifted up to grab the handle bars and pull it down until she was hovering helplessly over his crotch. Pulling the band of her leotard as far as he could, Lucius grabbed her by the waist until she was in the appropriate position touching his thighs and then playfully started to rub her pussy lips with the head of his cock. 

"Now start pulling up and down on the bar." Helplessly, B obeyed the trainer and started to pull up on the bar as her body bobbed up and down. The weight of her body made her pussy brush up and down against his cock; her pussy now dripping wet. He was teasing her, playing with his new sex toy, and B knew by her moans and grunts that she couldn't wait much longer. 

"Please, please. Mr. Sterling. Don't play with me any longer." B sobbed; tears of pleasure streaming down her face. She had let go of all her inhibitions from his teasing and now was begging to being fucked by his black cock. As Lucius stuck the head of his fat cock into her pussy, she screamed out in pleasure. 

"Ohhhh my god!" she wailed as she lowered herself onto him; her pussy gripping his cock like a vice. She moaned at the sensation of him playing with her hard nipples. 

"Holy fuck you are huge!" She yelps; "Don't Stop!" Fascinated, B looked down to see her pussy stretch and flex to accommodate his cock. Lucius grabbed her ass and pulled her down onto his manhood as he pumped her pussy harder. She could hear his flesh smacking against hers as he tried to get every inch of his mammoth fuck stick into her. B knew that he loved the way that her shapely, white body looked straddled over his muscular, black frame. The feeling of being reamed into her was more than B could bear as she screamed out like a maniac. 

"Ohhhhh fucckkkk, I'm gonna cum baby. I'm gonna fucking cum!" She felt her muscles tighten as she screamed with pleasure; Lucius was still ramming his cock into her when she erupted all over it. She let go of the bars and slumped her head down on his chest after he had made her cum; B looked weary eyed because he had totally worn her out but she still moaned with pleasure. Unfortunately, she knew that he wanted more. 

"OK, turn around for me baby. Time to put that ass of yours to good use." He whispered in her ear. 

B's eyes got as big as saucers and it seemed like the very words sent a shockwave through her. B gripped his shaft in her hands and looked down at it wide eyed. 

"Lucius..I don't know...it's so huge" she said with a frightened look on her face. 

But Lucius wouldn't have it. B turned around on the mat and waited for the assault that was about to be unleashed on her asshole. Lucius tore off her shorts and pulled the string of her leotard up her right ass cheek; letting it go with a smack. She yelped and then whimpered as Lucius rubbed his black cock against the valley of her ass cheeks. 

"Now, Mizz B. Bend downward and spread those ass cheeks for me." Obediently, B gripped her ass and spread her cheeks for his entrance. Lucius gripped his cock and watched as B tightened up and pushed herself into the mat that she was leaning on with all her might. She felt like she needed to scream from this invasion but the fat, black cock that was filling up her tight ass had rendered her breathless. 

"Goddamn, you tight girl!" He slapped her ass to her horror. "Now, for your last lesson, I want you to fuck this cock. Push yourself back and forth on it." 




Miss B at the Gym



'He must be joking she thought!' B thought; but she knew that he wouldn't take no for an answer. B raised her head and started to rock back and forth a little bit; trying to get used to the girth of his thick cock. He started to rub her wet pussy as he fucked her ass harder. She could feel her juices dripping down her leg and she knew she was about to cum again. Lucius slid his fingers into her pussy as he watched her ass cheeks quiver as he slammed his cock into her harder and harder. B knew that she was close to cumming; but so was he. He had turned B into a sex fiend and now she had him at the brink of satisfaction. She moaned and screamed with pleasure as he continued to fuck her hard. B slumped down in exhaustion as she released once again. 

"Ohhh baby here it comes!" he screamed out. Looking over her shoulder, B gasped as she saw Lucius pull his big black dick out with a pop and shoot his hot cum all over her apple bottom ass and lower back. He kept jerking off as he coated her with hot sticky jism. She leaned back to grab his manhood and tug a few more times to let out the last of his seed onto the floor. Panting heavily, he got up to fetch a clean towel. B lay on the floor covered in sweat. 

"Did you enjoy your trial session, Mizz. B?" Lucius asks; wiping his sweaty brow. She nods in approval.

"Can I count on you for an extended one year membership for BBC Fitness with weekly one on one sessions?" 

"Absolutely." She replied with teary eyes; she reached back to rub his cum all over her ass with both hands. The feeling of being fucked again by a big black cock was euphoric. 

"Perfect. I'll see you this time next week." 

To Be Continued...



Miss B at the Pool



This is my third submission in the series. If you have further ideas or suggestions for further stories feel free. EVERYONE in this submission is OVER 18 YEARS OF AGE. - RS

*****

Despite Lucius' calls, Miss B was reluctant to head back to the gym. She could afford the money, sure, but this whole thing she felt was getting out of hand. And yet, she yearned for it. It seemed to be gnawing at her. Sex with her husband just didn't feel the same anymore; especially not with his little white prick. The next opportunity seemed to arrive when Miss B was invited over by her black next-door neighbor Loretta Luscious to a Labor Day Weekend pool party among housewives. Loretta's pool was pretty secluded with fencing all around so B decided it would be a perfect occasion to wear her hot pink G-string bikini. 'A perfect way to get rid of some tan lines' she says to herself. 

B arrives at noon with a six pack of wine coolers and a towel stashed in a beach bag; she decides to wear along with her string bikini a see through white sun dress, pink stiletto high heels and a black hat. It's a hot day and by the time she arrives at the pool, B is already encased in a layer of sweat. In the backyard, she finds Loretta sitting at the pool in a beach chair wearing a purple G-string bikini. She is coolly reading a Cosmo magazine and sipping a Mai Tai. 

Loretta Luscious has beautiful ebony skin, is five foot eleven and long black hair. Her body is very muscular from years at the gym and her body building career that she cut prematurely to help run BBC Fitness with her brother, Rod Sterling. Despite this muscular physique, Loretta is blessed with delicious apple bottom booty and monstrous enhanced F sized tits. B notices a fairly large amount of chairs and ice chests congregating around the pool. What a strange thing! 'I thought this was just going to be the girls.' She thinks to herself. 

Loretta looks up from her magazine to see B walk in. 

"B, sweetheart, thanks for coming." She exclaims, as she gets off her lawn chair. Walking over in stilettos, she walks up to B. 

"Let me grab that for you." Loretta asks; as B hands over to her the beach bag. 

"Damn! It's hot today." B exclaims as she watches Loretta smile. 

"I got A/C inside. Follow me and we'll fix you a drink that will cool you down real nice." Cheerfully, B follows Loretta inside the house. B exhales as it's comfortably cool inside and surprisingly dark. 

"B, darling, follow me to my bedroom so I can make you a drink. I kept the alcohol away from the counter to avoid the kids." B follows Loretta into her bedroom. It's only then she notices someone sleeping quietly on the bed. 

"Wake up, Percy darling. We have company." The young black teenager sleeping on the couch in a sweatshirt and basketball opens his eyes. "Why the hell you wake me, Aunt Loretta?" Percy complains; rubbing the salt from his eyes. B makes a gasp as he stares at his pants. The basketball shorts do little to hide a gigantic bulge at this crotch. 

"Wake up Birthday Boy! You're 18! The lovely Miss Beatrice is here to give you your 18th birthday present!" B gulps and gives Loretta a panicked look. 

"Wha.... A birthday present?" She asks. "What birthday present?" 

"OH didn't I tell you? The pool party is for Percy's birthday party. You didn't bring a present?" B shakes her head. 

"Umm...no. No offense, but I don't even know this young boy of yours." Loretta smiles and continues on with her devious little scheme. 

"Well, it's very rude to be at a party and not bring a present. I am sure we can think of something." Loretta sits the bag on a recliner next to the plasma TV and sets herself at the foot of the bed next to Percy. 

"Say Percy, since it's your birthday and now of a legal age, how would you like a birthday blowjob from Miss Bustee?" B's face turns bright red. Percy claps his hands. 

"Ooh! Yes, that would be very nice!" 

"Um...what the fuck. I am not giving your nephew a blowjob." B turns around to leave for the door.

"Well, I don't know B. You had no problems giving one to Lucius at our gym last week. On camera and everything. It would be a shame if that tape happened to wind up at your husband's workplace. You know?" B shot Loretta a dirty look. 

"Are you trying to fucking blackmail me, Loretta?" Loretta smiles and starts to stroke her nephews thighs. The lump in his pants starts to stir. 

"Ooh. I think blackmail is a strong word. Let's just call it an understanding. Now Percy, be a good boy and show Miss B that it won't be any big deal."

"Sho' thing, Aunt Loretta." Percy smiles as he hooks his thumbs into the waistline of his basketball shorts and drops his shorts and boxer briefs down to his ankles. His massive black cock shoots up like a giant meaty monolith. 

'Oh fuck!' B exclaims. Dirty thoughts start running through her head. 'Why is every black man in this family of hers hung like a horse?' 

"Hey B," Loretta questions; beckoning her with her finger. "How 'bout you getting on your knees in front of Percy here and give him his birthday present?" Percy is stroking his cock with anticipation. 

"Yeah, Miss B. I aint gon' bite." She was in disbelief about the predicament she was in but Loretta had her cornered. Reluctantly, B tiptoed in her high heels over to the couch and sat down on her knees in between Percy's legs. She marveled at the size of his balls; they were size of grown apples. B knew this was a very bad idea but she could tell that she was becoming addicted to big black cock. 

"Damn, Miss B got some big ol' titties." Percy says; stroking his cock faster. 

"Yes, she does my sweet." Loretta adds. "How 'bout you squeeze them together for Percy?" B smugly, grabs her breasts firmly and pushes them together.

"Ooh, dat real nice! Percy "Damn, I wanna fuck dem titties." 

"No, Percy!" Loretta interrupts. "Let's not get greedy with your present." Loretta then looks at B. 

"Now, B darling. How 'bout you get close to Percy here and get a nice big taste of him." Hesitantly, B obeys and leaning over, with her breasts pressed against his thighs, runs along with her tongue his foreskin. She can taste the pre-cum on his tip. 

"Mmm. I bet that taste good doesn't it B? How 'bout you slide that pretty mouth of yours up and down his shaft." Obediently, B mouths his giant cock and runs her tongue up and down his cock from tip to his balls. His musky scent is driving her wild as she can feel her pussy moistening. 

"Enough teasing, Miss B. How 'bout you get them pretty lips around my cock and start sucking?" Before B can react, Percy grabs her by the back of her hair and pulls her mouth onto his cock. He lets out a sigh. 

"Yeah, like that, now start sucking." B bobs her head up and down on Percy's cock; her tongue buzzing his shaft. B, face stuffed with cock, looks up to see Loretta grinning wickedly at her. She is enjoying this humiliation way too much. Loretta catches B looking at her and gets off the couch. 

"Well um...I am going to leave you two alone and...f-f-freshen up before the party." 

Before the she closes the door, she looks back. 

"Have fun," she adds, slyly as she closes the door behind her. Saliva dribbling off her chin and making a puddle on Percy's loins, B continues to bob up and down the first six inches of his cock. 

"Mmm. You give good head for a white Ho, Miss B. Now how 'bout you deep throat it?" B comes up for air and starts licking his balls as she jacks him off. Uncontrollably, she feels like she is giving in to his demands.

"Sorry, you're too big." She lies; she knew that his Uncle Lucius was much bigger and she took him to the hilt. But her lie worked as Percy lay content. 

"Fine, keep on slobberin' then." She kept sucking his cock up and down until she could feel him start to buck; his balls were tightening up and he swelled and buckled in her throat. 

"Oh shit!" Percy exclaims as he throws his head back. 

'Oh fuck! He's about to cum.' B says in her head; knowing exactly what is about to take place. 

Before B can remove him from her mouth, Percy grabs her by the head and holds her down as big hot globs of white cum rocket into the back of her throat. 

"Pffttt!" B sputters and gags as wave after wave of jizz shoots into her mouth. After cumming a few more times, Percy releases her hold and B coughs in fits on the side of the couch. 

"You fucking came in my mouth, you little shit!" B snarls; wiping the jizz off her face and the remnants that fell on her chest. Her face is cherry red. 

"Yeah, Miss B. You give great fuckin' head." Suddenly, the door knocks. 

"Percy, dear. The guests are here." 

"Oh Shit!" The both of them say in unison. B heads to the mirror to adjust her bikini and Percy pulls up his underwear and basketball shorts. B grabs a wash cloth to wipe the rest of the cum off her mouth and spits out a glob of white cum into it; still in utter shock of what just took place. Loretta opens the door as Percy rushes out. 

"Thanks for the birthday present, Miss B." He chimes in as he rushes off. Loretta closes the door behind him and stares at B. 

"Well that sounds like that went well. Little boys like that don't last long around veteran cock suckers like us, huh B?" B didn't even make a response. She felt so ashamed. Another knock was at the door. 

"Oh that must be the girls!" As Loretta opens the door, some familiar faces of B's walk in: Jenna Juggs, Kitty Kox and Wendy Whoppers. 

Jenna Juggs, wearing a light blue g-string bikini that barely restrains her enhanced E sized melons is wearing black heels, sunglasses and a straw hat over her long blonde hair. Jenna and B go way back from their underwear modeling days and Jenna has stayed very well in shape; especially with the influx of cash from her millionaire hubby. Her thin waistline is heavily contrasted by her tight yet extremely large ass that she has kept amazing from years of gluteal training. Jenna is wearing heavy makeup; with dark black mascara, concealer and hot pink lipstick and large golden hoop earrings. Gold studded black Christian Loubiton stiletto heels adorn her feet. B laughs as she marvels at her bimbo bestie. 

"Well look who it is..." Jenna says giggling; a big wad of bubble gum in her mouth. She tip toes over and gives B a hug. "How is my bestie doing?" B tries to act calm. 

"Good...um I'm good." She hesitates to tell her what just happened with her and Loretta's nephew and, instead, looks over at Kitty Kox. 

Kitty Kox lives a few doors down in Beaverley Heights. She is a former NFL cheerleader now stay at home Mom who has kept in phenomenal shape. Giving birth to a daughter, her paltry B sized breasts grew to a modest DD and stayed that way after the pregnancy. In a similar outfit, the redhead Kitty is wearing a light purple G-string bikini and matching high-heel pumps. Kitty is the most conservative of the group and is very protective of her body image to the point of being neurotic. 

"Thank you Loretta for inviting us." Kitty says as Loretta closes the door and walks over to the walk-in closet. "But um...why are we wearing such ridiculously slutty bikinis. You know how I like wearing just my one piece. Could we wear something, you know, less modest?" Wendy scoffs and takes a jab at Kitty. 

"Oh shut up you prissy little Amish whore. Live a little." 

Wendy Whoppers is a sultry little brunette who works as a fashion stylist. She used to live in the neighborhood but now lives downtown in a loft. Like the other housewives, Wendy too is built for pleasure; 5 foot 7 with a large toned butt and giant F-sized fake breasts. Always on the adventurous side, Wendy always knew how to push Kitty's buttons. 

"Besides how else are you gonna get rid of those awful tan lines of yours?" The girls all laughed as Kitty covers herself up and blushes. Loretta comes back from the closet with a box full of t-shirts. 

"Well ladies, now that we are all here, I want to thank you for participating in our charity today. It really means a lot for myself, Rod and the whole gang at BBC Fitness and the Foundation." 

Loretta started to hand out the t-shirts to each one of the girls. B took a look at the embroidery on the white cotton t-shirt. On the front of the t-shirt, in large black letters, read: BBCEOF 1st Annual WTC Summer 2014. 

'BBCEOF. WTC. What the hell does that stand for? What the hell are you getting yourself into, B?' B thought to herself; shaking her head as she pulled the shirt over her shoulders and slid it on. It was incredibly snug. 

"Um, Loretta. I think you got us sizes too small." Jenna complained; attempting to pull the t-shirt over her giant DD sized tits. The white fabric looked like it was pasted on her. 

"Yeah," Wendy added. "My big ass tits can't fit into something like this." The girls laughed. 

"It's OK girls, you won't have to wear 'em long." Loretta put one on herself and opened the door. 

"Alright ladies, follow me outside. The party is waiting." 

One by one, the bimbofied housewives in their bikinis walked out to the pool. Almost immediately, the ladies are bombarded outside by a clamor of yelling and screaming as, wrapped around the pooln chairs, are a dozen black men in business suits. They are hooting and hollering and cat calling the girls as they follow Loretta to the side of the pool. Mr. Sterling, in a business suit that can barely contain his muscular physique, is sitting at a table. The girls line up and Loretta walks over to Mr. Sterling as he hands her a microphone. 

"Thank you, thank you. Now y'all settle down now." She yells as she quiets down the crowd. B catches Percy and two of his teenage buddies catching grins of her on the other side of the pool. A red solo cup of malt liquor is in the young teenager's hands. It looks like all the men are drinking. 

"Thank you all for attending today!" Loretta begins as she struts in her high heels in front of the four buxom ladies. 

"To the 1st annual BBCEOF Charity Wet T-Shirt Contest!" The ladies look shocked as the crowd goes into a riot. Loretta ushers them to calm down as she continues talking. The women look mortified. Kitty especially is cherry red in the face and trying to cover herself up. 

"These young ladies have volunteered for a most noble cause to be a special and integral part in one of our finest charities." She started walking over to the table as Mr. Sterling got out of his chair. 

"Now once these ladies remove their tops, Mr. Sterling here, will douse the lovely ladies until their soaking wet." Loretta walks over to the table and pulls out a crown and a sash from within a bag. 

"The lucky winner of this year's event will be crowned BBCEOF Charity Queen 2014." Loretta paused to look at the frightened housewives. 

"Now ladies are you ready?" Before, they could make out a word of protest, Loretta continued. 

"Good, now take your remove your bikini tops please." Reluctantly, amidst a barrage of wolf whistles and hollers, the ladies reached under their shirts and fumbled for the straps of their bikini tops. 

One by one, Loretta came over and makes them hand them each of their bikini tops into her hands. The thin fabric and tight fit of the shirt itself hides nothing as each one of the girls' nipples is poking right out of the shirt like bullets. Satisfied, Loretta stands aside and let's Mr. Sterling, dragging a garden hose, take her place. 

"Alright, Let's Begin!" Immediately, the girls let out a scream and try to cower as Mr. Sterling cranks the garden hose and douses the girls. 

"Oh what the fuck!" Jenna screams as she tries to shield herself from the water; her makeup smears instantly. The men let out cheers. 

"Ya, soak them titties." One yells. 

"Get them bitches soaking wet!" Says another. 

One by one, Mr. Sterling hits them with water until they are soaking wet. Loretta grabs em and lines them up again; each of their shirts are completely see through to the delight of the men. Several of them already have hands in their pants. Meekly, they try to cover their breasts. 

"Now Percy, darling, as the birthday boy who do you pick?" Percy, sheepishly, observes each housewife one by one. 

"I don't know Aunt Loretta, how bout they squeeze those titties together?" Loretta smiles and looks at them. 

"What a fine idea from a fine young gentleman. Can you do that for em girls?" Reluctantly, the four housewives push their breasts together; their wet t-shirts cling to their breasts like sponges. 

"How 'bout now Percy?" Percy makes a mischievous grin; still not satisfied with their current humiliating predicament. 

"Hmm, I think we need to see the whole damn package," he says slyly. 

"How bout they turn around and show us them big White booties." Loretta smiles. 

"How 'bout it girls? Turn around and bend over please. Make sure to push it out for us." Reluctantly, the housewives turn around and present their asses as Mr. Sterling sprays them one by one. They then turn around again. 

"You ready to pick now, Percy? Which one of these white big booty Hos should be our champion?" Percy makes a smug look. 

"Hmm, no no. I can't get a good look Auntie, how bout they take off dem t-shirts?" All their nipples are stiff from the cold water and reluctantly, they pull off all their shirts one by one. 

'I can't believe this is fucking happening.' B mutters, 'Topless in front of goddamn strangers.' B's huge tits bounce as she pulls off her t-shirt and places it on the ground. 

"How 'bout now Percy? Have we found a winner?" Percy nods and ushers Loretta over to the side of the pool. Loretta comes over and Percy whispers in her ear. She swings back around the pool.

"Well, Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner. Miss BBCEOF Charity Queen 2014 is none other than our very own Miss Beatrice Bustee." 

"What the fuck?" B exclaims. Loretta grabs the tiara and sash and places it on B. B deftly covers up her breasts; ashamed at all of what is occurring. 

"Now girls, you may leave." Quickly, the other wives grab their tops and scurry off into the house. 

"Oh not you, Miss B. The winner is for the main event." Mr. Sterling grabs a camera and ushers them to the side as B and Loretta take a picture together. 

"Smile, B. This is quite the honor." B can't hold it together. 'I need to fucking get out of here.' After a few snaps, Loretta lines her back up in the front of the pool. 

"OK, gentleman, grab out your pocketbooks. It is time for the celebrity charity auction?" 

'Celebrity charity auction? The celebrity auction?' Miss B wonders. 'What is going on?' Loretta continues talking into the microphone. 

"The low bet is $5,000. Do I hear 10." Men start furiously holding up their hands. 

"15 I see 15" B's mind starts going into a blur. She is still covering her breasts but she is showing so much skin that she cant hide everything. 

"75....going once, going twice. SOLD! $75,000. The lovely prize to Reginald Johnson." A few men throw down their pocketbooks in dissatisfaction as a greying old black man in a business suit starts high fiving his buddies and makes his way over to B. He is slightly overweight. Loretta grabs B's hand. 

"What are you doing?" B asks. "Why handing him his prize?" 

"But..but..." Before, she gets a word in edge wise, Loretta whisks her away into the house and toward the bedroom. 

"Thank you everyone for coming. Mr. Sterling will escort you out." Quickly, Loretta grabs the terrified B with Mr. Johnson to the bedroom. 

"Let me go, Loretta! I did not fucking agree to this!" Loretta threw her onto the bed and shut the door behind her and Mr. Johnson. 

"Oh quiet, B. You'll be fine. You didn't complain when you fucked Lucius. Or should I tell everyone about a certain birthday present that occurred earlier?" B was choked up with words and lay on the bed; still wet from being soaked with the garden hose. Mr. Johnson handed Loretta a check as she closed the door behind her. 




Miss B at the Pool



"Damn, Mizz B. It's so thoughtful of you to help out fo' a good cause." 

"Oh my god!" B looks up, hand to her mouth, shocked to find Mr. Johnson has pulled down his pants to whip out his black cock. 

"What, aint you seen a bare ass bull nigga, befo'?" 

"Yes, yes but. .." B studders. 'It's happening again. That urge.' B says in her head; the dirty thoughts are flowing back. 

Mr. Johnson removes his dress shirt and pants and walks over to the side of the bed; Miss B moves to the opposite side. Mr. Johnson shakes his head. 

"I dunno you mighty shy. Why don'tcha come over here and have a little taste." B was in a dilemma. If she bolted, Loretta would surely tattle but maybe she thought that if he just gave this man a blowjob she can get out of this mess quickly. 

Obediently, Miss B comes to Mr. Johnson's side of the bed. However, Mr. Johnson pushes her down to her knees and, before she can protest, sticks his cock down her throat. 

"Uggh ughh ughh" 

"That's right girl, open dat throat." B sputters as Mr. Johnson pulls out his cock to let her breathe. 

"Hmm. Girl let me see dee big titties again. I need to know what I paid fo'" Reluctantly, Miss B pulls off her top. 

"Damn those are some nice titties. That's right Miss B, Now put dem together so I can have a look at dem." 

Obediently, she pushed them together. "Like this.." Before she could finish her sentence; Mr. Johnson grabbed them both in his strong black hands and slid his dick between her valleys of flesh. Expertly, he pistoned his black python up and down her tit cleavage. 

"Mmm yeah. Just like that. Damn yo tits are nice, big and soft." B squealed as he pinched her nipples; she grabbed his thighs to hold herself steady. After a few strokes, Mr. Johnson pulled out and grabbed her hand; pulling her up to the feet. 

"OK, no more wasting time. Let's have some of dat pussy." Pulling down her g-string bottoms, Mr. Johnson rolls her over onto her back. 

'Everything is happening so fast.' B mumbles to herself. 'I should be telling him no but...but that cock...that big fucking black cock.' Her hand slides to her pussy. Mr. Johnson gets onto the bed and hovers over her; stroking his mammoth black cock. 

"Now spread that pussy wide, Bitch. You gonna need it." Without hesitation, B pulled her legs back resting her hands on her knees as Mr. Johnson pushed his massive dong at her entrance. B made a yelp. 

"Damn, that pussy tight." "Wait, wait," Miss B protested; slapping him on his back. 

"No condom?" Mr. Johnson gave her a dirty look. 

"Hell naw. For 75 grand I ain't wearin' no rubber. Don't worry bitch, I'll make sure to pull out." With all his might, he started to jack hammer her pussy and she starts to moan. 

"Hell, I can't wait to frost that fuckin' pussy."

"Fuck fuck fuck!" She yelled; as he goes balls deep in her every time. The euphoria of being completely filled by this black stranger sets; she rolls back her eyes in ecstasy. 

"Oh god!" It's not long before B feels the urge to orgasm; she could feel him start to swell up as well. Sensing it, he thrusts harder until he can't handle himself any longer. 

"Oh fuck bitch!" He yells; pulling out. Furiously, Mr. Johnson jerks off his cock as he sprayed her sopping wet pussy with cum. B lets out a gasp. 

"Oh my god, my fucking pussy." She whimpers as Mr. Johnson completely frosts her wide open pussy. Gasping, he shoots a few more strokes and then collapses to the side of her. 

"Damn bitch, you were good. Every fucking penny!" Slowly, he gets up to retrieve his clothes. B is still in a trance; wiping the cum off her pussy. Loretta walks in, still clad in her purple bikini. 

"How was it?" She smiles. Reginald gives her a hug. 

"Amazing L, that white bitch can fuck!" Ushering him out the door, Loretta throws B her beach bag with her sun dress and top and smiles. 

"Thank you so much B for helping out our cause. Have a Happy Labor Day!"



Miss B in Brazil



This is my first ever submission. If you have further ideas or suggestions for further stories feel free. All comments are welcome. Keep it positive. EVERYONE in this submission is OVER 18 YEARS OF AGE. - RS

*****

Miss Beatrice Bustee or "B" as her friends called her was tired; tired of watching and attending the boring football matches of the 2014 FIFA World Cup with her husband while they were on a vacation in Brazil. She could never follow the game, not like she wanted to, and her mind kept wandering to other things. 

On the day of the final game, B had had enough with her husband and stormed off to salvage the rest of her vacation doing two of her favorite things: shopping and the beach. 

'Why not' she thought, 'everybody must be watching the game and it will be empty and relaxing.' She knew it was pretty tacky but she was looking forward to finally trying on her new American flag thong bikini that she had purchased before the trip. When she shimmied into it, the material barely held in her luscious ass and EE tits. She laughed at her image in the mirror. She could never wear such a scandalous thing in the States but here it seemed commonplace; after all, Brazil invented the thong swimsuit. Nevertheless, she put on the bikini and covered it with a pink sun dress. Here we go!

After strolling through countless stores in the morning and racking up thousands of dollars on her hubby's credit card, she decided to hit the beach. The concierge recommended Ipanema; the most famous beach of all Brazil. Wearing a pair of sandal heels and sunglasses, she grabbed her beach bag and headed to the coast. 

She was wrong. It was packed. And worse yet they were playing the game on large movie screens on the beach. 

'You've got to be fucking kidding me', B muttered under her breath. She had enough and had to get away from this madness. She needed somewhere more secluded and started walking down the sidewalk strand back to the hotel. 

Suddenly a Brazilian girl caught her eyes. The woman was gorgeous, simply put. She had the body that all women wanted, and all men wanted to be with, too. Her long dreaded dark hair was tied behind her back in a ponytail, and the little yellow thong bikini bottom she was wearing barely covered her already perfectly-tanned body. The skimpy black top struggled to contain her 36DD breasts. She wore dark sunglasses, hoop earrings and pink lipstick while she popped bubble gum. She was holding hands with a man that was equally as beautiful with the same perfect skin tone and rippling abs wearing a speedo that did little to hide the noticeable bulge underneath.

'She must be a local.' She thought. 

"Excuse me." Miss B hailed her down. "Do you speak English?" The woman smiled. 

"Sim. A little." She purred.

"What's a quiet beach? The best beach?" The girl looked at her and smiled. 

"Are you alone?" She asked.

"Yes." Miss B replied. The Brazilian girl smiled again and gave her companion a wink. 

"You should try Praia Cavalhada. You will like. Very safe." She pointed towards the cove at the end of the beach boardwalk. "Past there, and to your left, left. Yes?" 

"Obrigado" Miss B replied in the only Portuguese she knew. The Brazilian girl nodded, smiled and walked on past; her ass bouncing back and forth perfectly. Miss B wished she had curves like that.

After asking several locals where to go, Miss B made it to the beach and it was lovely. This length of beach was away from the strand, and seldom visited. The sky was cloudless, and the sun blazed down unremittingly, enough to make someone break a sweat just by standing outside. She laid down her towel and pulled out a magazine and her headphones. 

It's hot. She thought. I need to put on some sunscreen before I fry. She hadn't gone to the beach all vacation and she knew that within less than an hour she would be a lobster. 

Squirting a glob of white sunscreen in her palm, B rubbed her hands together until it was a nice lather and rubbed the paste along her legs and feet. She repeated the process on her face, arms, shoulders, stomach and breasts. I am going to get crazy tan lines, she thought, too bad this wasn't a nude beach. Topless maybe? She remembered that the few women she had seen on the main beach before she had dipped into the cove were topless; the young and the old. 

"Fuck, why not." 

Rather than untying the strings, she pulled down the material on the string bikini top and pulled her massive tits out one by one. A massive tan-line in the shape of triangles had already formed along her breasts; the difference in her tanned skin and her original milky white tone was astounding. Damn! The UV exposure here in Brazil was crazy. Putting a few squirts of sunscreen lotion in her hands, she built up lather and, reaching the consistency she needed, rubbed it into her breasts. The sensation was arousing as her hands smoothly worked her melons in circular motions. B made a sigh as she pinched her nipples. "Fuck! I'm horny!" 

Realizing for a split second where she was again, she covered her breasts and turned around. The beach was still empty. 

Phew! Content, B continued to pleasure herself; grabbing a few more spurts of lotion and then rubbing them into her breasts. Her right hand made its way into her bikini bottom and rubbed her pussy. Her mind drifted as it always does to sex. She and her husband hadn't had sex at all on their trip. And she was craving for it! Dying for it! A nice big cock in her wet pussy! No! Stop B! What if somebody sees you? Regaining composure, B pulled her top back on and turned over onto her stomach. Well shit! How am I going to get my back? She started to reach for her back shoulder to put on some more lotion. 

"You need help?" Startled, B turned her head around. 

"No I think I..." B made a gasp. 

Oh my god! Behind her was a gorgeous six-foot tall black Brazilian man with ripped abs wearing nothing but a Brazil-themed banana hammock for a swimsuit. From head to toe he was all muscle; with corn-rosed hair, tattoos and ear and nose piercings. But what caught B's eye was the massive bulge that hung down the side of his leg like a giant fleshy flashlight underneath his tight lycra g-string. Oh my god! His cock is fucking huge! She thought. 

"You sure?" He prodded again. 

"Well I..." 

Even underneath her glasses, she couldn't help but staring at his cock. It was massive. The stranger took advantage of her hesitation. 

"It's OK, I help!" 

In a trance, she watched as he placed himself on his knees next to her waist. Grabbing the sunscreen bottle, he gripped it firmly and lathered up his hands. She wanted him to stop but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Bending over her, the man started to massage it into her shoulders. B sighed. His hands were working magic on her backside; putting pressure on her points and expertly guiding through her every curve. It was like he was a professional masseuse. But every time, he pushed forward onto her shoulders, his enormous cock brushed against her butt. It was making her very uncomfortable. 

"Um." She stopped him. 

"Yes?" 

She lifted her chin and pointed with her index finger towards his crotch. 

"Could you?..." 

The stranger interjected.

"Oh sorry, I get into better position, Yes?" B smiled; but to her alarm the stranger did the contrary. Straddling her backside, the black man sat on his knees above her buttocks and the weight of his body on her shoulders; his cock, now bulging underneath his banana hammock, hung inches above the thong covered cleft of her ass flesh. He started to slide his hands up and down her shoulders and spine to massage her back; simultaneously his cock rubbed back and forth in between her ass cleft. 

"Does it feel good?" He asked. 

B let out a stifled moan. 

"Mmmph."

The combination of his careful massaging and rubbing his large cock against her ass cheeks was too much for her. His hands drifted to the loop of her string bikini top. She shot her hand back to block him. 

"No!" She interjected.

"No tan lines." He added. Defeated, she stopped struggling and let him unloosen her string bikini top. His finger began massaging the sides of her breast. Every time he thrust now, her nipples rubbed against the fabric of the bikini and the beach towel.

"Fuck!" she exclaimed; unable to stop the words before they came out. The black man stopped. "Everything OK?" 

B let out a moan. 

"Yes keep going. Mmmph. Please." Obediently, he continued his torment of her backside. He had become more aggressive and his large hands were now kneading her tits like dough. He pinched her nipples delicately with each hand with his thumb and forefinger. She had had enough. Turning over, B grabbed for his head and kissed him passionately; forcing her tongue down his throat. Her hand went to the cock sling that was his swimsuit. 

"My turn." She interjected. Obediently, the black man traded positions and got on his back. B got into a 69 position; burying the man's face in her crotch while he slid down his lycra thong. Restrained tightly by the lycra fabric, his enormous black meat stick almost whipped her in the face before it stood upright. "Holy shit! Your cock is huge!" She always admired big cocks. "It's as big as my arm."

She did the comparison like they do in porn movies; pressing her face against his gargantuan meat stick. "Mmmph!" The black man had now pulled down her thong to her knees and was licking her pussy. "Yeah, that's it!" She said as she stroked his cock with both hands; admiring his massive pillar of flesh. Her mouth then went for his cock head; his size was massive. Definitely the biggest cock she had ever seen in person. Let's see if I can deep throat this fucker! She thought. Giving a few quick sucks for lubrication, she gagged on his dick before coming up for air.

"Fuck!" She exclaimed; "I only got half way." She added; spit dribbling down her chin and onto her breasts, as she vigorously jacked off his cock. Licking his cock head while jerking him off, B prepped for another deep throat attempt. Giving head to her husband was never as much of a delight as was worshiping this black monster of all cocks. The black man groaned as she came back up for air.

"Uggh! Uggh!" She muttered as she bobbed her head up and down on his cock. Her eyes watered as she gagged on the giant black monolith of flesh, pulling back and spitting stringy saliva all over his shaft. Her pussy was dripping wet. Licking his balls, she spit on his cockhead and looked back at his face buried in her ass. He had pulled her pussy lips wide and was furiously thrusting his tongue back and forth into her. His tongue was very large and was prodding her orifice with ease.

"Oh fuck that's it." Furiously, he licked her pussy but B was growing impatient as she jerked on him up and down in time with her bobbing head.

"You like pussy huh?" He nodded. She rocked her cunt back and forth over his face; he pushed his tongue as deep as he could into her pussy. 

"Well, let's see you fuck this pussy." 

He started to get up but B pushed him down.

"No you lie down, baby. I'll be on top." 

She pulled down her thong and kicked it off onto the towel. B squatted above him and picked up his cock, rubbing it vigorously against her sopping pussy lips; coating his large purple head with her juices. 

"Mmm. Baby. You are going to fuck this pussy up." Steadying herself, she placed his cock head at her opening and eased her cunt onto him. 

"Oh my god, Oh my god." She panted. She took about half of his length, then moved her hand to his stomach and started riding him; his hands held her by the hips to keep her upright and in rhythm. The slapping of her buttocks against his groin was loud and her pace quickened as her bottom became a blur of pink, jiggling flesh. She picked up the pace as she was building towards her climax. 

"Yes! Yes!" She knew she was being loud but the throes of ecstasy were too much for her. Finally, B let out a scream and dug her nails into his thighs. She dropped her weight on him, slipping to her knees. Her ass quivered on his loins as she came hard; harder than she ever had before. 

The stranger, however, is still hard as a rock and is getting adventurous. He pulls out and starts to push against her asshole. 

"No, baby, you're too big." 

But the man was persistent. He pushes her off and grabs her from behind. Pushing her head down against the towel, he grabs her by the waist with one hand and her arm by the other.

"No worry," he says. "You will enjoy." Spitting on his hand, he lubes up his dick and then slowly pushes his large black dong into her asshole. 

"Fuckkkk!" She exclaims. B had anal sex only once before and it was with a college roommate. His dick was dwarfed in comparison to this mammoth shlong. Gripping her by the waist, he slowly starts to fuck her ass. After picking up speed, he pulls her hair back. 

"Yes! Yes! Fuck me in the ass you dirty boy!" She could feel him build up inside her. 

"Ah Fuck!" He exclaims as he picks up speed; her ass is a cherry red as he digs his claws and pounds away at her jiggling ass flesh. 

"Don't you fucking cum in me you little shit!" She mutters in between quick breaths. She lets out a squeal as he obediently pulls out of her ass with a pop and starts furiously jerking his meat stick. 

"Yeah baby, blow that big load of yours all over my ass." Pulling her ass cheeks apart, she watches with fascination as her bull begins to cum; hot thick ropes spurting out of his cock head onto her ass. 

"Mmm." She squeals as the stranger coats her ass like frosting. After a few more jerks, the stranger makes a grunt and collapses to her side.

"Fuck, baby that was good." She grabs him by his necklace and pulls him in for a kiss. That was the best ass fucking of her life. 

Wiping cum off her ass with a towel, B reaches for her phone. 

"Fuck, I'm late!" She yelps; she was to meet with her hubby in two hours and she would need to shower and get ready. B scrambled to put back on her swimsuit, summer dress and accessories. The black man slid back on his swimsuit.

"Will I see you again?" Her black Adonis asks in his broken English; still very short of breath. B smiled. She took a pen from her purse and scribbled a note on one of her shopping receipts, folded it and handed it to him. 

She got her things and headed off the beach before giving him a farewell kiss. Watching her leave the beach, smiling at that delicious ass bouncing side to side, the local Brazilian stranger opens the note.

HOTEL DA COPACABANA. ASK FOR B. XOXO



Miss Behaving



"Well my darling Darryl, it has been along time coming, no pun intended and I really think you have a lot of explaining to do!"

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"I can't hear you? Speak up little boy! Stop mumbling!"

"You come round knocking on my door at almost midnight after weeks of messing me around and you want what exactly?"

"Oh yes "cuddles" Hmmm you have so much more than just that to look forward to ..."

Suzanne smiles wickedly as she stands in front of her darling boy. She had missed his cheeky ways, his twinkly eyes and she knows, he knows it, but there is no way he is getting away lightly this time!

"Well ...? What is her name then?"

"You may look shamefaced at me but I know Darryl, I know!"

"Yes, yes you're sorry. Yes I know I went away and you got bored and lonely. And yes she tickled your fancy and yet here we are again."

Darryl has always been such an easy read. He is like her. Needs plenty of affection to make the world a happy place. It may not be traditional affection but believe when you are both reading from the same 'men in love book' then it feels like coming home. And here he was in her home looking so damn sexy. How she had missed him but there was no way she was going to make this easy for him.

She takes him gently by the hand and leads him through to the kitchen. Sits him on a chair and pours a drink for them both. Suz takes his hand and breaths softly onto it with her minty fresh breath. The small contact of her lips against his skin is like a burn. He looks sheepishly at her. He knows this is only the beginning.

"Have you had your fill little man? Ready for what is coming next? You know it is going to be long and hard for sure." She grins at him and can feel the excitement rising between them. The sparkle in his eyes is unmistakable. Pure lust.

He makes a grab for her, his hands sliding round her waist under her flowing dressing gown to the satin soft nightdress underneath. There is nothing soft about his touch though and for the minute she allows him the freedom of her body. Suzanne leans into his broad chest taking her pleasure from him. Her nipples puckering up and pushing obviously against the fabric.

His belt buckle is pushing hard into her as they move together to get as close as they can with the resistance of their clothes in the way. Her fingers slip between them and release the belt pulling it fully out from all the loops. She moves round to the back of him. His hands reaching behind him so as not to lose contact with her warm body. Using the belt she traps his hands and restrains them. Looking into his eyes, slowly takes his head in her hands and kisses him, lips to lips, then the tongue darting quickly along his lower lip and squeezing between his lips to taste him.

"Mmmm sweet... sweet as ever but...that perfume doesn't suit you at all! How dare you come here reeking of her!?" Her anger is swift and he is instantly groveling for her forgiveness.

"NO! No way. Don't think you are coming near me smelling of another woman. You are disgusting!" She reaches into a drawer and takes out a large pair of scissors.

"Stand still or this will hurt more than you can imagine!" She tears strips from him, slashing his clothes from his body. Leaving him naked and surrounded by tatters. From a hook at the rear door she takes a thick dog collar down.

"On your knees! Now!" Suzanne wraps the collar round his neck and tightens until it becomes uncomfortable.

"If you act like a dog then that is how I will treat you!" She attaches a lead and pulls at him.

"Come with me little puppy we are gonna clean you up!"

Suzanne takes him into her bathroom, turns the power shower on full to maximum temperature.

"Get under there" Suz picks up a long handled brush and starts scrubbing at his body, brushing hard. The skin already pink from the heat going deeper in colour and turning red in places.

"Bend over you nasty little disappointment. I am going to clean you thoroughly all over." Dropping her gown she joins him in the shower. Her nightie clinging to her body as the water sloshes over her. Adding lots of soap to the brush Suz starts at his ankles working up and over his body. Up his calves and his strong powerful thighs she kicks his feet apart to brush the insides of his legs.

"Turn around, now, Now! Don't make me more angry than I already am." As he turns around she can see for herself why he is so reluctant, she laughs loudly at him

"You Dirty little Fuck! I am here scrubbing you silly and you are turned on?!"

She stands up and rubs her body all the way up his arousal.

"Mmmm" And then she brushes it hard and laughs as she does.

"That should do the trick for a little while till I at least get the rest of the stink off you." Suz carries up over his tummy and chest. She pinches his nipples hard on the way past. Then spins him round to to scrub all of his back, shoulders and arms. Shampooing his hair with so many bubbles it seems the plughole can barely cope.

"You will be so damn clean when I am finished with you"

"Step out Darryl" she tells him. Draping a towel around his shoulders and rubbing vigorously at his entire body with another towel.

Suz leads him by the collar into the dressing room.

"Sit there!"

"Yes on the stool in front of the mirror."

"If you are gonna come here smelling of a woman then you shall look like a woman too."

"I am going to start by covering your face with moisturiser, pink and girlie and flowery. Massaging it all into your cheeks. Now for the concealer, covering your bright red skin."

"Hmm seems that hot shower did a treat on you. And for the foundation, smoothing it all over."

"Stop resisting me!"

"Eye shadow to bring out the pretty blue twinkly shades."

"Ooh now what shade of lipstick shall we choose? Yes. Bright red to match my own" Suzanne loads her lips and presses them hard against Darryl's mouth. Pretty lass.

"There my darling little girl lets get you dressed. Tight pink panties and a nightdress to match. Soft and sexy and silky against your skin. Hmmm it doesn't quite cover everything down there does it?" she smiles "but it does go well with the collar and belt" she winks.

Suz takes up the lead again and drags him to the next room, a huge big bed dominates the space.

"Come on then little lass lets get you sorted"

There are fleece lined cuffs attached to each corner of the bed.

"Lie face down there my little sweet, I am going to teach you a lesson that you will remember for a very long time." Suz tightens the cuffs on each limb. Strapping Darryl to the bed tightly. She slaps him hard on his leg.

"Stop resisting! This will be the most fun you have had since you were here last."

"I do so enjoy having you at my mercy baby. I'm gonna make you so sorry for being so disrespectful"

Suz lifts Darryl's nightdress revealing the silky panties. She slides them down too, revealing his tight sexy bottom.

"Hmmm right big boy, you do know what is coming next don't you?"

She shows him the big jelly cock and she sees his buttocks clenching in an automatic reaction. Yes he does know that Suz is going to ram that huge penis into his puckered little brown hole. He knows that she is going to make sure it slides all the way home and he knows he is going to be screaming out loud as she fucks him over and over again. Suz straps the cock into the strips around her bottom.

"Raise your arse up now!"

"Slap. Slap" her hand lands heavily on one cheek then the other.

"Now raise it higher! Stop wiggling away. Submit to me my darling!" 

"Slap. Slap" two more blows land.

"Slap, slap slap slap slap slap"

"Stop whimpering!" Suz kneels between the legs of Darryl. She rubs the head of her cock up and down between the bright red cheeks of Darryl's lush bum. She can feel the moisture building in her already juicy pussy. Pushing her fingers between her lips she scoops it up and runs it along the length of her huge jelly cock. Reaching forward she forces her fingers into Darryl's mouth

"Go on taste them, taste me, see how wet you make me with your bad behaviour!"

"Tell me what you have been doing?"

"I want to know just who you have had fucking you while you have been away from me!"

"Did they tease you like I do, or they make your bottom cheeks as red as I do?"

"Do they tie you up and make your cock strain against your pretty panties like I do?" 

"Hmmm I love hearing how bad you are but I don't want you stinking like another girl when you come here!"

"Do we understand each other now Dirty Girl?"

"Ten more spanks for you just to make sure we understand each other and it isn't going to happen again!" The blows land hard and fast till the tears run down his face and the sobs are audible

"Mmmm there we are, you took your punishment well baby"

Suz plants little kisses all over his burning bottom but without missing a beat plunges cold lube deep inside him. The thick jelly cock follows. Just the head to start stretching him open. The pain rips through his body as the shaft is buried to the hilt. 

"Oh babe sweet, sweet babe, doesn't that feel so good, you are so tight I can feel you squeezing me, I am gonna fuck you now, yes now!" Suz draws back a little and pushes hard against him again. Plunging her fake dick into him over and over.

"That's it take it baby, take it good, you are so sexy and I'm gonna fuck you right up, yeah I am" Suz lays on Darryl's back pushing him down into the bed, her hands on his shoulders.

"That's it yeah push back onto me slut! Take it, take it good" Running her nails down his back scoring her name into his skin just so he doesn't forget who he belongs to.

"How is your little pussy feeling now Darling Darryl? Are you ready to come for me?" She whispers into his ear unstrapping her cock she leaves it buried deep inside him. Crawling up next to him, she turns his head and kisses him on his glossy lips.

"Such a pretty girl! Yes you are." She strokes him softly all the way down his body. Reaching under him and running her hand over his silky panties. She feels the straining fabric barely covering his throbbing cock.

"It isn't gonna take much is it baby girl, you are gonna cum really quick for me now!"

"I want all your creamy jizz, let it go baby."

"Release it to me." She doubles the speed which she is stroking him and feels the tension building. he is wound so high. Her spare hand gives one final thrust of the jelly willy and she cups her hand around his cock to catch all his lovely cum.

"Mmmm there is so much seed spilling out of you. You are so, so sexy my baby doll!"

His breathing is harsh and the soft whimpering escaping his lips makes Suz sure he had learnt his lesson. He won't be Miss Behaving again too soon. She removes the cock from his bottom hole and swiftly pulls the panties back up to cover his hot bruised cheeks. Suz unties his bonds and feels his body curling up. She slides up into the curve of him and lets his body protect her from the rest of the world.

Sweet dreams Darling x x



Miss Behaving - The Morning After



I missed you baby. It just feels like coming home, waking up with you like this. 

I am so proud of your behaviour last night and took your punishment really well. We have come such a long way together Darryl. You turning up here begging to be forgiven. I treated you to a steaming hot shower with a harsh scrubbing brush. Humiliated you by turning you into a girl with make up, nightie and pink panties. Followed by spanking your sexy bottom till it was red and bruised all over. Finally fucking your tight little arse hole with my big strap on dick till the tears were streaming down your cheeks. What a 'Lucky Girl' you were. Mmm.

This morning though I feel like the lucky girl. Hmmm... I adore the feel of your strong chest, so warm, pressing against my back. Your breath blowing on my sensitive neck sending, shivers down my body. Your thick hard cock nestling into my soft bottom cheeks. I wrap my arms around yours, holding you tighter, wiggling even closer into your safe, exciting, arousing body. 

"Good morning Sexy Suz." You whisper into my ear. I can hear your smile as you say it. I know how happy you are waking up just where you are. If anything it makes me feel even more lucky. 

"I want you inside me, Darryl" I tell you.

Again you are smiling as you reply with a sigh.

"Always so demanding Suz. Your wish is my command."

"As if you have ever had a choice Darryl! Touch me. Show me how much you want me. I can feel how much you want me because your cock has been poking into me all night long. Show me with the rest of your body too." And you do. 

Our bodies still pressing together, spooning, We stretch. Pulling our muscles out, releasing the sleep. A yawn escapes your lips, setting mine free too. Then it starts. Starts with your lips exploring my neck. Little butterfly kisses, like little pops of pleasure. At the same time your left hand breaks free of my hold and comes back up to my shoulder. Holding me there, you takes a gentle nibble of my ear, the sensation I feel flows directly through my breasts. You turns me on so easily. Your hand tightens, holding me firmly, pretending to take a huge bite out of me, making me squirm and giggle.

"Darryl..." I warn you. 

"Don't forget you are not too big to go over my knee young man!" I laugh

"Yes Mistress." You says meekly, half hoping, I'm sure.

I am so impatient, I want you inside me already. My body pushing into yours in the age old rhythm of desire. So natural. Again your left hand comes round the front of me. Squeezing my flesh, teasing my soft skin. Different levels of pressure in different areas. You touching and moulding me from the tops of my thighs, over my lush hips. Stroking my tummy. Exploring as far as your hand can reach. 

I slip out of your embrace, on to my back. Maybe to give you more access but mostly because I want to feel your mouth on my breasts. You know how I like it. How I love you to suck my breasts and nipples hard. Hard as you can. Leave me covered with bruises, show me that you were here for when you no longer are. For all that I owned your body last night, I am yours this morning. 

Mmmm blindly seeking your cock to fill me up. Turning my body away from your. Spreading my legs to fit between and over yours. I want you darling Darryl. 

"Fuck me baby. Now. Please now!" 

And you do. My pussy throbbing and ready for you. Holding him by the base I descend on to your rock hard cock, The pleasure is immense. Stretching me wide. Its been so long. You fill me right up. Getting further and deeper inside me with each stroke. Oh god you feel amazing. My whole body is singing with rapturous delight. Both striving for the same goal. 

"Cum for me Darling, fill me with your cream. I am close." Your fingers slip between my pussy lips to stroke my clit. I don't need the extra sensation. I am wired. 

"Oh god. Yes!" I couldn't hold back. I cum and cum but you don't stop you just keep beating into me. Harder, Harder, feeling higher. 

"Yes... Yes... ohgod! ohgod! ohhhhhh...Mmm."

Feeling you shoot your enormous load into me triggered me off again. My cunt spasming around you. Massaging every last drop from your balls. Draining you. Making me full of your baby juices. Very very happy. 

Lying together, not ready to move, loving that feeling of your cock shrinking back out of me and yet still very much as one. 

Thank you darling Darryl x x



Miss-Behaviour



I occasionally get into a bit of trouble at school. It's not really my fault. All right, maybe it is. I'm ahead of the class in a number of subjects and I get bored when we have to do repetitive things that I already know. When I get bored I tend to do things to alleviate my boredom. The teachers don't always appreciate my sense of humour.

That explains why I was standing in front of the Principal's desk, getting lectured. He was going on with the same old, same old, and I was basically tuning him out, just keeping one ear going in case he said something that caught my attention.

Third time in my office this term, yada, yada, do you like detention, yada, yada, and so it went on. He droned away and I looked contrite and said, sorry sir, at what seemed like appropriate intervals.

Then there was a sudden silence. I stopped looking at the floor and looked at the Principal and he was giving me the evil eye. What had I done now? I hastily cast my mind back to see if anything he had been saying had stuck with me. It's a trick I've learnt. It operates on the principle that you do hear things and ignore them, but if you decide that what you heard is important, your memory kicks in and refreshes the words for you. 

Now I was wishing my memory hadn't kicked in. Without changing the tone of his delivery the Principal had started reciting a nursery rhyme, asked if I was listening, and suggested that I might prefer it if he wore a tutu and danced out a message for me.

I have to hand it to the man. He had a fine line in sarcasm, delivered with the same tone as he lectured me. When he actually caught on that I was ignoring him I'm not sure, but he was not happy. He had my attention now that was for sure. I was even blushing slightly at being caught out.

"I think," said the Principal, speaking slowly, "That it's time we tried something different. I want you to fold your arms and bend over the desk, resting on your arms."

"What the hell?" was my immediate thought. Corporal punishment? At my age? He had to be joking.

"What, you're going to beat me?" I asked, quite sure I hadn't signed any forms giving the school that authority. What's more, being eighteen, I'd have to sign the form. My parents couldn't sign for me.

"Beat you? Goodness me, no," he said, managing to sound scandalised. "We don't have authority for that. No, no, no. What I'm going to do is give you a good solid fuck. You obviously have some sort of hormonal imbalance that's causing your misbehaviour and giving you a good old fashioned fuck will probably fix that. You should probably talk to your boyfriend about giving you one fairly frequently."

What did he say? He was standing there smiling at me, showing no sign that he'd just made such an outrageous statement. I mean, he wouldn't do such a thing to a student. He wouldn't dare. 

I told him that, at the same time discretely backing up until I could feel the door behind me. If he tried to jump me I was so out of there.

"I wouldn't dare? Try me. Come and bend over as instructed. Oh, yes, you should also lock the door. Good thinking. You might be embarrassed if someone came in while I was servicing you."

I could feel my face burning. I mean, I knew he couldn't be serious but he sure sounded as though he meant business.

"Oh, no," I said, shaking my head. "Not going to happen. No way, Jose. You take one step towards me and I'm out of here. You won't see me for dust."

"Oh, don't do that," he said quickly. "Consider my image. What would it look like if I had to chase you down the corridor, willy in hand, shouting for you to come back, because I wasn't finished. The staff would be surprised to say the least."

That miserable swine was laughing at me, I just knew it. He might have had a straight face but inside he was rolling around on the floor, clutching his sides and cackling his fool head off. Bastard, that was what he was.

"This is not funny," I told him.

"True. Discipline rarely is. You seem a little nervous about having me adjust your hormonal imbalance. Would you like me to page your boyfriend and have him come to the office? He'll probably be happy to oblige." 

"Are you insane?" I felt like screaming. "Of course I don't want him to come around and, and, whatever."

"Adjust your hormonal balance," he murmured, and I saw his lips twitch in a half-smile. "Will you hurry up and make up your mind. I don't have all day, you know. Either lock the door and go and bend over the desk or open the door and run like a rabbit, but do hurry up and choose."

He was having me on. There was no way known he'd try to have sex with me. Just no way. It would serve him right if I did lock the door and bend over the desk. Let's see him laugh then.

Actually, the more I thought about that the better the idea seemed. He'd back down and it would be fun watching him. I pressed the lock button with a loud click and stalked over to the desk. Not looking at him, in case I burst out laughing when I saw his face, I folded my arms, put them on the desk and then leaned on them. And waited.

I actually got a bit of a shock. He came around the desk and stood behind me. The next thing I knew my dress was being lifted, my panties were being pulled down, my eyes and mouth were opening wide with shock, and a great big paw closed over my pussy and squeezed it lightly. Then he walked back around to his side of the desk and sat down, much to my (unexpressed) relief.

"I knew you were bluffing," I said, but I only said it quietly, still feeling slightly shocked that he'd actually touched my pussy. Could I sue him for that? Probably not, as I theoretically knew he was going to do it and consented.

"Bluffing? Certainly not. Just waiting. You're not really ready for me yet. I'm just going to sit here for a while and let your imagination warm you up. You're going to lean there, thinking about what is coming, wondering what it will be like when I slide into you, and all the time you'll be getting yourself worked up."

I just froze on the spot, appalled. Now that he'd mentioned it I was wondering what it would be like if he was to take me. I mean, having the Principal bend me over his desk and fuck me as a punishment? It didn't bear thinking of, but that's what I was doing and he knew it.

He let me lean there, sweating and wondering and, curse him, I could feel myself getting wet. I also found myself glancing towards him, wondering if he had an erection or not. What would it look like? 

I wasn't a virgin, but I'd only ever had the one partner, and only a couple of times. Now a man was going to take me whether I wanted him to or not. No, that was wrong. I could always pull up my panties and run away. But if I did that he'd win, blast him. I groaned and hoped he was only bluffing.

After leaving me stewing for a while he got up and sauntered around the desk again. There was a very suspicious bulge in the front of his trousers. He slid his hand over my bottom, going down and under until he was cupping my mound again. I was going to scream at him to stop but all I did was gasp. He was rubbing me, massaging my pussy, and his fingers were poking into places they had no right to go.

I felt as though my whole body was on fire from embarrassment. I couldn't believe he would go this far. Then I found him pulling my blouse out from my skirt. I barely had time to wonder why when he was lifting the back of my blouse and unhooking my bra. 

I'm like, "What? What?" and he gave this little sigh.

"Be reasonable," he told me. "You can't expect to get proper attention if I ignore these little lovelies."

With that his hands slipped around to my front and closed on my breasts, slowly rubbing them. I could feel my nipples hardening and rubbing against his palms.

"My apologies," he murmured. "These aren't so little, are they? It's that terrible school blouse that detracts from them. I really need to talk to the PTA about a better uniform for the girls."

I have to admit I wasn't paying all that much attention to the way he was pawing my breasts, although I was well aware of it. I was far more acutely aware of something hot and hard pressing between the cheeks of my bottom, and it seemed to me that it felt indecently long. I might have wondered about the size of his package, just in an abstract sort of way, but now I realised that I didn't want to know. I'd just as soon he just put it away, and quickly. I told him so.

"Will you stop pressing that thing against me and just put it away," I said. I tried to snap it out as a command but I have a horrible suspicion that my voice was quavering and it came out as a plea.

"Such impatience," he said, and he was laughing again, I just knew it. And what did he mean by impatience?

Whatever he meant, he pulled his hands out of my blouse and backed away slightly so his cock was no longer wedged between my cheeks. Then there was an oh-my-god moment. A hand slipped between my legs and eased my lips apart and his cock was there, moving past them and sliding into me.

"What are you doing?" I squealed, not able to believe that he was really doing this to me. 

"What you told me to do," he said, sounding puzzled. "Putting it away."

Puzzled my eye - He knew exactly what I had meant and was doing this deliberately.

I wanted to tell him to stop and take it out but all I could seem to say was something like, "Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah," as he slowly sank his cock into me. Not so slowly, at that, as I was nice and wet and he just seemed to slip nicely along my passage, said passage relaxing and opening up its arms to welcome him. At the same time his hands were diving back up under my blouse and closing on my breasts again.

It seemed that in no time at all I had a pussy full of cock and hands permanently attached to my breasts, and the hands and cock were all moving. 

The hands were squeezing and rotating, rubbing against my breasts, while the cock was making a leisurely examination of my passage. Make that many leisurely examinations. I could feel him pulling way back, until the tennis ball at the end of his cock was about to pop free, then he'd push it slowly back home.

I wasn't going to do anything. I was just going to stay still until he was finished. Really I was. It's just that my bottom seemed to twitch of its own accord and push back against him. He seemed to take this as encouragement and the next time he came in he was pushing slightly harder, and my bottom again twitched all by itself, pushing me to meet him.

I know when I'm on a hiding to nothing. If my bottom was going to ignore my wishes and thrust me upon his cock I might as well give up and help it do so. With his next thrust I pushed back more determinedly. He knew it and responded in kind, increasing the force of his own thrust.

I already pointed out that I wasn't a virgin, but with only limited experience. It was now being demonstrated to me that my experience was a lot more limited that I had known. I was getting a very pointed lesson on how a man gets the most out of a woman's body. 

His cock pounded against me, driving in lustily, while I bounced and bobbed and tried to keep pace with it. I hate to admit it but I had a feeling that he was deliberately keeping the action at a point where I could handle it. And, while his cock was playing havoc with my pussy and my senses generally, his hands were doing their share of mischief, teasing and tantalising my breasts. I could feel pleasurable excitement spiralling out of them, joining up with the excitement rising from my loins, my whole body burning with the lustful passions this rotten man was inducing.

Quite frankly I couldn't have told him to stop to save my life. My whole attention was on what he was doing to me, and I could hear myself urging him on. I was appalled at my own behaviour but I wasn't stopping for anything.

I wasn't sure how long this went on. It just seemed to go on and on, with the Principal showing no signs of stopping. Whatever he was doing it was working, with my excitement spiralling up and up, and I was rapidly losing all control. (Who am I kidding. I lost control from the moment he pulled down my panties and groped me. Since then I'd been doing just what he wanted.)

I was going to climax. I knew it. I could feel it. I was gasping, making little noises, none of which were coherent, the noises forced from me by each rushing thump of his cock hitting home. 

Then I lost it. I started to scream, but a hand covered my mouth, and I just soared away on a wave of sensation and my climax went crashing through me. I was vaguely aware that he was climaxing as well, but did I care? Not so you'd notice.

I just slumped over on the desk, breathing hard. He'd moved away but I was too spent to do anything. Unfortunately, the Principal knew just what to do to get me motivated again. A hand came round and connected with my bottom with a mighty whack, almost lifting me over the desk. 

I gave a startled squawk, rearing upright, highly indignant. 

"What was that for?" I demanded.

"Misbehaviour," he said, his face completely blank. "I expect to see a decided improvement in your behaviour for the rest of the term. I'm sure you don't want to have to take any more trips to my office, now do you?"

I hastily straightened my clothes while I considered that last question. Did I want to risk another trip to his office? A very good question. I'd have to consider it most carefully.



Miss Bernie



Hiding a Company sniper from drug lord killers.

*

My name is Bernice McDonald and I am the very happy owner/ operator of a couple of children's day-care centers. I love my life and I love this work. I love children and since I have one of my own this helps satisfy my need to nurture. 

I have not always felt or recognized this need. I was born in a remote part of the mountains of West Virginia. My parents owned an eighty acre farm and leased an additional forty acres. I was the last of twelve children and was the only boy. Yes! I was born a male. My birth name was Bernard Jenkins. I was always called Bernie. We were a poor family in a very poor area. I never had any new clothes and was dressed in hand-me-downs until I was about fifteen years old. Because I had eleven older sisters I wore girls clothes until I went to school. Then my mother modified my sisters' cloths, jeans and tops, to look more like boys clothes. My underwear were always the panties and t-shirts my sisters outgrew. My sweet sisters never made fun of my clothes, they knew better. My father would have come down on them hard.

After I was nine years old I was expected to hunt almost every day for the family's meat. We raised chickens, a few hogs and had a couple of cows and steers, but I was expected to supply most of the meat. I was allowed only two bullets a day for the 30-30 rifle and six for the .22 rifle. The old shotgun we had was a muzzleloader and was not reliable. Only my dad was allowed to use it. If there was not enough meat to go around I was the first to do without.

By the time I was twelve I never missed a shot. If it was not a good shot I didn't take it, I became very adept at stalking the game in the area and getting close enough for a clean kill. 

My father was killed by a blowout on a front tire on our old truck when I was fourteen. In our hills going off the road is almost always fatal. Five of my sisters had left home by then and had moved into town. The rest of us struggled to keep food on the table. Two years later my mother remarried. My stepfather was an abusive man and I went to stay with my oldest sister, April. We lived in a small apartment in Charleston. When I enrolled in the local high school I told them I was eighteen years old and a senior. When the transcripts from my old school had not arrived I was given placement tests. I was placed in the senior class and graduated in the spring. I enlisted in the Marine Corps and was sent to Boot Camp at Parris Island in Beaufort, SC. Because I was a very good shot with a rifle and set new records on the rifle range, I was put on the rifle team. I didn't like it. It was not a challenge for me. I was recommended for Scout/Sniper school and was transferred to Quantico VA. After ten weeks of training I graduated first in my class and received orders to Language School where I became fluent in Standard Arabic and learned a little Kurdish and Farsi. On completion of the school I received orders to Iraq. I eventually served two tours in Iraq and one in Afghanistan. I became a very good sniper with a good number of kills to my credit and a chest full of medals. 

When my enlistment was up I was recruited by the CIA. I was sent back to Quantico, VA, only to a different school. My skills at blending into the local backgrounds were praised and I was given a crash course in Spanish. That was not too hard for me because I had taken Spanish in High School. The Agency had learned that I had made several kills in Iraq dressed as an Iraqi girl and as a woman. I had stayed with a local young Iraqi woman and studied her mannerisms and movements. I have a gift that allows me to mimic someone very accurately if I have an example to copy.

I am 5'6" tall and weigh 120 pounds. I am fortunate to have a metabolism that keeps me at that weight even though I exercise daily. My light brown hair was darkened to nearly black. I took tanning treatments and was fitted with brown contact lenses over my blue eyes. I spent several months in Columbia and Venezuela acclimating myself to those areas. 

When I approach an assignment like this, my first task is to find a remote spot where I can visit for several days or weeks if I have the time. I learn the accents, the history, names of prominent people and families, the hangouts, where the best food is to be found, and things a person born there would know. I use this information to assume the identity of a fictional native of that area.

I have, on occasion, met a person very familiar with the village I chose, and have been able to convince them that I had indeed near lived there. Being small, I usually am of similar stature to the local men. I have never tried to assume the role of a female, except in the Middle East where I covered my head with the hijab or veiling worn over the asha, a black head scarf and a foota, a chin scarf. The abayah was worn over a dress. I tried to put a slight feminine sway in my walk and was never made as a man carrying a rifle under all those clothes. The feet in clogs or sandals were normally all you could see below the eyes. When you are that covered up a disguise is easy.

The Agency briefed me on four targets in two South American countries. I assigned the task of eliminating these targets. I was successful in carrying out all of my assignments. A leak in the agency led to my having a 25 million dollar price placed on my life by several drug lords who were sure they were next on my hit list. 

I was ordered back to Quantico and debriefed. I was told that for my own protection I was being placed in a witness protection program. I was disguised as a sick woman for my trip into hiding. I was sent to north Florida where I was given a house in a quiet subdivision. I entered my new home and was told by my escort to remove all my clothing and place every item of personal property in a plastic bag, and I was instructed to take a pill I was given, then I was told to go to bed. 

I was awakened in the morning by a beautiful young woman who handed me some female clothing and told me to get dressed. I stood and looked at the clothes. I almost fell down. My sense of balance was way off. I was startled to see two large breasts attached to my chest. I noticed that I was hairless from my eyebrows down to my painted toenails. I reached for my crotch and was startled to find nothing there. I guess my expression was priceless because the girl giggled and said, "Everything is still there, It is just tucked away and glued in place. I promise it will all work normally when you need it."

I looked at her and tried to smile, "I sure hope you are right, Ms.?"

She smiled and I felt a stirring in my groin area. She said, "I am Jane Cooper, Ms. McDonald, and I am well aware that you are not a man to trifle with. It is my responsibility to disguise you so there is no chance of you being recognized. The people at the Agency determined that your best chance is as a woman. Your body has some very feminine characteristics already. We will just enhance them. You will have nothing that is not reversible done to you until you can live totally as a female for a year. At that time you can make a final decision. How do you feel about that?"

"Ms. McDonald?"

"Yes, you have a new name to go with your new look." 

I held my hands in front of my face, I looked at my fingernails painted to match my toenails. I looked at her and smiled. "Miss Cooper, If you can make me look half a pretty as you do I might stand a chance. I promise to try to learn everything you can teach me so I can be a prime example of womanhood."

She grinned at me, "The shrinks at Quantico said you were one of the most adaptable and versatile people they had ever seen and rated your chances of being successful at 98 percent. Call me Janie and let me help you with your clothes. We are going to start out simple, you will wear a bra, panties, women's slacks, a shell and a sweater. You will start with 'Stay-up' stockings under boots with a 2 inch heel. We have to get you used to high heels as soon as possible. We will always dress in similar clothes. We are posing as a lesbian couple. So try to act like lovers in public. In private we are strangers even though I know everything about you. You are a very brave man, I don't know how you did some of the things you have had to do for your country."

"To be honest with you Jane, I just didn't think about the risks involved in completing my assignments. I did what I was told was my assignment. I don't worry about what I did. I just shut that away and never think about it."

She stared at me with her mouth open, then she softly said, "I am so sorry I said that. Please don't think you need to think about it now." 

I saw tears course down her cheeks. I reached for her and held her close to my chest. Our breasts touched and I shifted a little so they slipped past each other and were pressed tightly together. I fought off an urge to kiss away her tears away. "Please don't cry, I can't stand seeing girls cry."

"Forgive me, we need to get you dressed, here try these panties."

I laughed, "I thought I was out of panties for good, ten years ago." 

She smiled, "Were you a cross dresser before?"

"Yeah! I guess I was, I had eleven older sisters and I never wore anything but hand-me-downs 'til I was about fourteen."

"Oh My! No wonder you have so many female traits, you were totally immersed in girlie stuff for nearly half your life."

"Female traits?"

"Yes! Your profile says you are very neat, fastidiously clean, caring of others, like your hair long, and other things that are considered feminine traits."

"Effeminate too?"

"Oh no, that was one of the questions about you. You are not a macho type but none of your friends or comrades ever mentioned that they thought you were effeminate or gay. The questionnaires they had to fill out asked that question in six different ways. There was not a single negative answer. No, they all think of you as completely male."

"They didn't see me as a kid. Around the farm I wore girl's clothes all the time. Skirts and dresses. That was all I had that would fit me. My sisters wanted to do my hair but I never wore anything but a ponytail. My favorite hunting outfit was panties, tights, girl's boots, and an ankle length brown skirt, a jacket and overcoat with a green knitted girl's hat that went over my ears. Hell, I even went to town once in a while with my mom and people thought I was one of her daughters."

Janie giggled, "You should have no trouble except with your hair and makeup. You look pretty stable in those boots."

"Hey, my hunting boots had the same height heels only thicker, the toes weren't as pointed though."

"OK Miss Bernie, girl, let's do your makeup, for now we will just go with a light lipstick in a pink. I'll just lightly brush your cheeks with a touch of color. Damn, you look cute already. Here let me put a spritz of cologne here and there. We'll leave your hair in a ponytail, only we'll put a gold clip around it. You look very feminine in just your clothes. Here put this lady's watch on with these bangle bracelets. We need to get your ears pierced while we are in town shopping for groceries. OK? Don't forget your purse, all your new credit cards and your new IDs are in your new billfold."

I glanced at her, "I don't know about this, it is too soon."

"Not for you, Honey, you have done it before. We can hold hands and no one will think anything of it. We are gay."

I looked at her, "I guess you are right, I think I am a lesbian, I am very attracted to you. Wow! Look at me, I know I am a lesbian now, I'm even attracted to myself."

Jane giggled, "Hey, I think you are hot too!"

I looked at myself in a full length mirror beside the front door. Damn, I did look hot! Nice tits, flat front in the slacks, long, long, legs. I turned a little, Damn! A real cute ass in the tight slacks, only the heel and toe showing on the boots. Where was 'I'? I looked nothing like me in girl's clothes. I was nearly smokin' hot. 

I looked at Jane, she was smiling, "Hey! Miss Bernie, I never thought you would look this good. Want some higher heels?"

"No girl, let me get used to these first. They feel pretty good now, but I haven't done this for a long, long time. I don't know how they'll feel after I have them on for a while." 

We went out the door to the garage and she pointed me towards the passenger side of the sedan. She corrected me on how I got in the car. She said it didn't matter now with slacks, but I needed to do it correctly so I didn't show off my panties when I wore a dress or skirt. 

She showed me the proper way to sit, then swing my legs in the car while holding them tightly together, just the reverse to get out.

I said, "Heck, I just won't wear skirts."

"Sure you will, I have a LBD picked out for you to wear when you take me out to dinner tomorrow night."

"LBD?"

She giggled, "Yes, Sweetie, your 'Little Black Dress'. With 4 inch stiletto heels. I'll need a baseball bat to keep the guys off of you."

As we drove along I asked some questions, "How are my tits attached?"

"Glue, they have to come off for a few hours every week to 10 days for the first couple of months, if there is no irritation under them they can stay on a month at a time. The attachment areas are artificial skin, as is the whole outer surface. If you leave them on too long they may permanently bond with your skin and become part of you. We don't want that to happen." 

"We don't?"

"No, Honey, If you want to go permanent you want your own breasts. You need to go on a prescription for hormones, you will grow your own breasts that will be real with all the feelings and the ability to lactate. I would think you would prefer real ones anyway. Another effect is that your hair will grow faster and thicker but your beard will almost disappear. Your tush and hips will fill out a bit. You can figure you will look very much like your mother and your sisters. We have to carefully monitor your hormone levels so we don't do any permanent damage to your male sex organs and desires. How big your tits and ass will grow is in your genes."

"Hey great! All of them have C or D cup boobs, and they are all slim with tight little asses."

Janie grinned at me, "That is what you have now. That is what our investigators said your family had." She looked serious, "Can you cook?"

"Yes, I am a very good cook. I am the twelfth child in an Irish family. You had better damned well learn how to cook or you will have thirteen people on your ass. You either cook or do the dishes when it is your turn. You learn to do all the other housework too. I will admit my sisters all spoiled me because I was the baby boy. They all loved me." I felt tears grow in my eyes. "I love all of them too. What do my sisters know about this?"

"Nothing. If you like this, they could be told you are dead."

"Damn, I would hate to do that to them."

She told me of the plans she had to help me become a female 24/7. She would teach me to do my own hair and makeup. She had books and magazines for me to read. She said I needed to decide on a female voice to use as my own because she had heard me use several voices.

I said, "How now brown cow? How about this one?"

Her head snapped around. "Hey, that's my voice, find one of your own. Shit! You are really good at that, you sounded exactly like me."

I thought about the voices I knew well enough to be very comfortable with them doing them full time. I thought about a voice I really liked a lot. It belonged to my sister Catherine, I had loved to mimic her when I was young and had it perfected. It had a little southern country accent in it but not too much. 

"How do you like this voice, Sugah! It's a sweet, slightly different voice from mah past."

"Oh! I like that! It has a lot of you in it, just sweeter and a hair higher. It suits you."

"OK Sugah, Ah'll use this voice from now on."

We pulled into a parking place in the mall. Janie led me right to a jewelry shop that did ear piercing and in no time I had two studs in each ear. Janie giggled, "I know you want a whole bunch of body and tongue piercings but they will have to wait."

I laughed and said, "Forever! I have never seen a piercing, other than the ears, that improved on God's good work."

"Good!" said Jane, "I am not fond of them or of tattoos either. I never saw one I thought improved the landscape very much."

We filled two shopping carts rather quickly with items on Jane's list. We filled the trunk of the car with the supplies and returned to the house. We carried everything in the kitchen. I let Janie do the arranging of the kitchen. I hadn't fully explored the house as yet, so when everything was put away I asked her to show me around. It was a very nice three bedroom two and a half bath, ranch, with a two car garage and a screened in pool and patio. The house was not new but had been refurbished inside and out. The landscaping was super and well cared for. The vegetation around the patio area was lush with a tropical appearance. We stood and admired the pool area.

I took Janie's hand and pulled her to me. I gently kissed her on the lips. She was startled at first then kissed me back. I pulled back a little and whispered, "That is for the neighbors on the right who are watching from their patio." She opened her lips and kissed me passionately.

She grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the house saying loudly, "Let's go christen the bedroom." We entered the house and held each other as we laughed. 

Suddenly we stopped laughing and looked in each others eyes. I said, "Girl, I think I ..." a finger went over my lips.

Jane said, "Don't say it if you are not sure of what you want. We don't need to say anything right now."

I held her tight. "I just want to say, I think I need a shower very soon."

Jane giggled, "Yes! I am sure you do. I vote we cancel going out tonight. We can fix something simple and eat here tonight."

"I second the vote."

"Great, the motion is passed by acclimation! Do you want help with your equipment?"

"Yes! I would appreciate that, I don't exactly know what to do."

"OK Bernie, I will be glad to take the matter in hand and see what can be done to help you get some relief."

I carefully took off my boots and placed them in the closet. I removed my slacks and clipped them in a pants hanger that I hung in the closet. I put the rest of my things away and looked for Janie. She was nude, on a chair watching me. "I am going to love having you for a roommate. The last two were slobs."

"How often have you done this?"

"Like this, never, the others were real roommates. I guess I need to explain. I accidently found out about you and volunteered for this job. You see, my husband and I were both Agents. He was killed in the line of duty in Columbia two years ago. After that I didn't want to live alone. I had two female roommates. I read your reports and knew you had killed the man who killed Tommy, my husband. I wanted to help you survive any way I could. I hope we can pull this off so you are safe. After this afternoon I believe we can do it."

"How long can you stay with me?"

"As long as we both agree it is working."

"Thank you for doing this for me. I really appreciate your sacrifice in doing this. I wish you weren't getting . . . . Oh! Forget it. I am happy it is you."

She smiled, "You were going to say you wished I wasn't being paid to do this. Right?"

I shrugged, "Yes, I guess so."

She walked to me and placed a hand on each side of my face, "Honey, I told the Agency from the start I would do this for free if they would give me a leave of absence for as long as it takes. They wouldn't hear of it. So I AM being paid. I am doing this for a couple of reasons, first I think it will give me closure in Tommy's death. Second I very much want to be with you. I watched videos they made of you while they debriefed you when you came back from South America. I like you a whole lot."




Miss Bernie



I walked over and sat next to her. I gently kissed her on her lips, "Thank you, with all my heart."

She walked to a dresser she removed a pile of pink lingerie and then went to the other chest of drawers and got a pile of white lingerie. She winked as she walked past me and placed the two piles at the foot of the bed. "Come on sweetie, Shower time." The bathroom was very nice. It had a huge garden style, whirlpool tub and a separate large shower enclosure. 

She grinned and said, "It would take too long to fill the tub. The shower is ready now. I followed her into the stall. The water was just right. She picked up a washing puff and a bottle of liquid bath soap. She put two or three drops on the puff then squeezed it several times 'til the suds ran from it freely. She motioned for me to turn around. Damn the girl was built. I felt a stirring in my loins. 

She scrubbed my back from top to bottom. I felt her hand press to turn me around. Man! I wanted to suck on her stiff nipples with the puffy areolas. She quickly scrubbed my chest and breasts and moved lower. She had a spray bottle and sprayed the area between my legs. She reached between my legs and I felt her touching my scrotum, she was gently pulling at it as the water ran down over us. I felt my scrotum pull free from between my legs and my balls slipped down into it. She grasped my cock and gently pulled it lose. She washed everything. Everything was working. My cock got as hard as a rock. Her hands gently rubbed my package. That felt great. He was sticking straight out. She looked up at me, "Wow! I didn't expect him to grow that much. I only saw him when they taught me how to tuck everything away. He was very soft then." She stared at him then looked up into my eyes, "I like the way he looks, and he doesn't look like a lady's clitty at all."

She stood and handed me the bath puff. I turned her around and rapidly scrubbed her back, her ass was simply delightful, firm and tight yet soft and round. Damn, I just had to kiss it. She giggled and turned around, the front was even better. Wow, this girl was Playboy Cover-Girl material. I just had to look her up and down in awe. I looked up and she was watching me. She looked as if she was about to burst into tears. I stood and pulled her to me and softly pressed my lips to hers. It was a long sweet kiss. 

"I think you are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. How many times have you been a Playboy centerfold?"

I saw a tiny smile start on her lips. She sniffled and said, "I thought, sniff, you didn't like, sniff, the way I look, sob."

"You were right, I don't LIKE it, I LOVE the way you look." I ran my hands over her body. "I Love the way you feel, I love the way you smell, and I know I will love the way you taste. I am giving you fair warning, I want to make love to you more than I can stand much longer. If that is not what you want too, I very strongly suggest you run like Hell!"

She smiled, "That is exactly what I want too. Oh! Not the running. Kiss me, my love. Come on!" She headed for the bed, dragging me along. I got my feet in gear and caught up with her. We hit the bed together. She turned and landed on her back. I moved along side of her and kissed her lips. They parted and we kissed for a long time while my hands roamed over her body, touching lightly, caressing and loving every bit of it. Her hands explored my package. It seemed like only a moment before she pushed me back a little. She grinned, "Damn, Bernie, you sure know how to turn a girl on. I love how you do that, but you have me so hot I NEED YOU inside me. Please! Oh please love me right now!" Her eyes locked on mine as I moved down and between her wide spread legs. She watched my every move with that faint smile on her lips. My knees were shaking and sweat broke out on my brow when my hard cock touched her slightly parted inner lips. I rubbed the bulbous head of my cock up and down the slit, stopping and pressing forward an inch or so into her pussy, then withdrawing. Her eyes rolled back and slowly drifted closed. I pressed in much deeper and saw her eyes pop wide open. I pushed in to the hilt and I could feel my balls hit gently against her bottom. I paused and looked as the beautiful smile crossed her face, then she moaned. 

"Did I hurt you girl? I never want to do that!" I started to pull out. She grabbed my hips and pulled me hard against her pelvis. 

"PLEASE! Don't stop now, I LOVE how you feel. You aren't hurting me at all. Not a bit, it's really wonderful. Do more. God that is so good, Keep it going, Yes, Oh ungh yesssss ungh soooo ungh gooooood ungh. So ungh verrry unghhhh GOOOOOD!"

Her arms held me tightly in place as I pumped in and out of her wet warmth. It was delightful, I couldn't remember when I had last had sex, I knew it had been several months. I felt that old familiar feeling in my loins and told Janie I was about to cum. She Moaned, "Oh yes, cum, baby, cum deep inside me. Ahaaaaaah! There it is, oh I love how that feels, so sexy, so very damned good, so hot and slippery, I just love it."

I rolled off her and on to my back. She snuggled up to me, her head on my shoulder' a hand cupping my right breast. When I awoke it was pitch dark. I eased out from under Jane and watched her sleep for a few minutes. I slipped on some black jeans and a black long sleeved pullover sweater. I stuffed my hair under a dark ball cap. I found a pair of black sneakers and eased out through the door to the patio. I scouted the area within a hundred yards from the house. It took me over an hour but I returned pretty sure we were not being watched.

That is something I am trained to do and I am very good at it. Today I would walk around the block in the daylight learn the places that had dogs or good observation spots to watch our house. It looked as if it would be difficult to watch us because of the style of landscaping. All of the yards were at least an acre and some were even larger. There are large areas of nicely groomed lawns between all the houses in front and hedges or fences shielded the back yards from casual observation.

The back yards on either side of us and behind had hedges on their property. The house on our right had a hedge about 4 ½ feet tall. The houses behind us and on the left had 6 foot high hedges. Our back yard was fenced with a four foot high chain link fence. There were gates on either side of our house. The CIA people who picked out this place knew what they were doing.

In the morning I talked with Janie over coffee. I told her of my scout the night before. 

"Did you see anything suspicious?"

"No Sugah, Ah saw nothing. There are several things Ah want to do so Ah feel safer heah. First is a dawg." Her face broke into a huge smile.

"Oh Honey, I love dogs. We do have a perfect yard for a dog here, don't we?"

I smiled, "I know where to get a perfect dog for us. The breed I prefer is the Belgian Malinois, followed by the German Shepherd, and the Rottweiler. All are good when they are trained as 'Protection Dogs'. I can pay for it if there is no money allotted for a dog. I will have to go on the internet and find a nearby trainer. Usually the trainers deliver the dogs. They will teach us all the commands to use with the dog and how to keep up his training. The trainers generally stay for two or three days to ensure a smooth integration of the dog into our lives. These dogs are also great pets. They are trained to put their lives on the line to protect their family. A really good, fully trained dog can cost up to $50,000."

Janie smiled at me, "That is a lot of money for a dog isn't it?"

I looked at her, "What is your life worth to you, or what is my life worth to you?"

"Are they that good?"

"Yes, they are, the very least they can do is give you the time you need to protect yourself, as a trained agent you know that the first few seconds in an attack are crucial. I have seen one of these dogs put two or three men down in a few seconds. He will only accept food or water from you or I.

"The second things I want are detection devices to detect night vision goggles, electronic bugs and navigation/GPS trackers. I can have them delivered here tomorrow."

She grinned at me, "Everything but the dog is already in the closet to the guest bedroom." 

"Wow! You are really on the ball. Ah love dat, Sugah!"

"Oh! You are so cute this morning I could just eat you up. Even without makeup you look like an eighteen year old girl." She grabbed me and kissed me with a passion I was not quite ready for. Wow! She was very aggressive this morning. Her tongue pressed its way into my mouth. She pulled back a little, "Bernie, Honey, I never thought you would instantly become a very pretty sweet little southern country girl. I expected a 'guy in a dress' look for a couple of months. I would defy anyone to recognize you as a man. Your Adam's apple is the only give away and it is a very slight bump, and I have seen real girls with worse."

"Thank you Hon. I am trying to assume the persona of a girl, I have never tried this before to this extent and I really sort of like it. I watch what you do and how you move and imagine the cause and effect behind your actions. I try to imitate you while retaining my own personality. Or rather the personality of me as a girl. A lot of my sisters are in me too!"

Janie kissed me again. She laughed, "I don't know who you really are but I like it a lot. Just don't lose the Bernard who is still inside you. I loved him when he came out for a while last night. I can't believe how wonderful you are in bed as a guy. I never want you to lose that. I think I may want to try the female side of you too, as a lesbian." 

She glanced at me to see my reaction. I smiled gently, "I might just enjoy that too. I want to try anyway!" 

She smiled broadly, "Mmmm, I can hardly wait!" She sighed, "I have some unpacking to do, why don't you order our puppy?" 

I called an outfit in Jacksonville and talked to them for a while. They had two dogs that sounded good. I wasn't totally happy and told them I would get back with them. 

I called a place in Orlando and was impressed with what I heard. The key part I liked was that their dogs are all home raised puppies and are not from large breeders. They had two desexed male dogs available. One was a Belgian Malinois (pronounced Mal-in-wah.) and the other a German Shepherd. Both dogs were Level III dogs. I gave them a deposit by credit card on the Malinois. Since we were only seventy miles away, delivery would be the next morning.

I found Janie hanging pictures in the den. They were of our fictitious families. There was a picture of both of us in bridal gowns at our wedding. There were several pictures of our actual family members. Whoever did them did a fabulous job. She was very excited when I told her about the arrival of the dog the next morning. She squealed and hugged me. "I haven't had a puppy in years, I can't wait to see it."

"This little puppy weighs almost as much as we do. He is nearly eighty pounds." 

"He doesn't sound too cuddly does he?"

"Hey, he is a protection dog, He looks like a short haired Shepherd, he will attack on command. Don't kiss anyone he doesn't know or he may rip the guy's arm off. Yes, he can do that, he is weapons trained too, he will disarm anyone with a weapon who threatens you. Don't tell him to 'Stay' somewhere and forget about him or he will be there a week later if you don't call him."

"I was hoping he would be friendly, he sounds mean."

"Sugah, ya have to remembah A'm a trained killer too, A'm sort of friendly and cuddly sometimes, Ah think Ah am anyway."

"Wow, you have a mouth full of South today, Bernie, Honey. I think we need to get dressed to go in town, I made an appointment this afternoon for us both to get our hair done and our makeup done so we will look nice when we go for cocktails this evening at the Baker's house next door. And I do think you are the cuddliest person I have ever known."

"What should I wear in to town? When did we get invited next door?"

"There was a note under the front door this morning. I think your green full skirt with the beige shell and sweater set and your brown boots with the higher heels would look nice, you do need the practice. If you hurry we can stop for a salad somewhere first." 

The worst thing about being a girl is the damned salads instead of a burger. I always seem to be hungry. Janie says I need to lose a little weight. Oh well, we girls have to suffer to be beautiful for our mates.

The Salon was a lot of fun. Janie told everyone that we are a couple. She said I have always been a Tomboy and that I need a little feminizing. Dawn, the owner, asked if I were the top in our relationship, I said no and Janie said yes. Everyone had a good laugh at that. I said we take turns really, but our two year anniversary is coming up and I want to look pretty for her.

Dawn fussed at me about not caring for my lovely hair. She said I had horrible split ends and needed a new styling. I told Dawn that I love my ponytail and I want to keep it. I told her that I would defer to Janie, she would decide how she wanted me to look. As a guy I actually wore it in a braided pigtail with a leather wrap most of the time.

I really liked what they did to me, I walked out with bangs and a dangling curl on each side of my face and a ponytail. I was now a light golden brown , almost a blonde color with lighter streaks. My eyebrows were thinned into a more feminine arch. My make up was a little heavy for day wear but would be perfect for that night. 

Jeanie looked stunning when they finished with her. Her hair was lightened a little too and she was now almost a platinum blonde. Her hair flowed over her shoulders and down her back. She was hot! Very hot! I was going to have to keep an eye on her tonight.

We went home and had plenty of time to change for the cocktail party. I suggested we eat a sandwich before we went but I was overruled by my grouchy 'wife'. She wore a red dress that hugged and emphasized every one of her lovely curves. She looked like a movie star. 

My 'little black dress' hid very little of my body. The neckline plunged almost to my naval and you couldn't wear a bra with it because it had virtually no back either. I showed Janie how revealing it was if I leaned in any direction. She laughed and said she had no intention of letting me show my boobies to everyone at the party. She went to her dresser and came back with some clear strips. They were double-sided tape and she put the strips on the inside of the neckline and then pressed the fabric to the swell of my breasts. Voila! I could lean any way I wanted and nothing new showed! 

Jane had tucked my balls up inside me and glued my cock and scrotum in place. I could set down and pee with no problem. I was a little awkward in the strappy black sandals with four-inch stiletto heels. I walked through the house several times and became quite comfortable with them. I paraded in front of the full-length mirrored sliding closet doors. I loved the way I looked, and the way the wispy fabrics felt against my body. I tried a little twirl and grinned at the way the short skirt flared to show my black lace panties and the black stockings held up by the straps from my garter belt. Damn, I was giving myself an erection. 

Janie dabbed some perfume here and there, behind my ears, on my wrists and my neck. She lifted my skirts put some somewhere down there. She smiled and softly whispered, "That is for me, for later, Sweetie."

We walked next door and the clicking of our heels on the sidewalk and the jiggle of my breasts had me becoming aroused again. We were introduced to about forty people. Janie and I became separated and I became a little worried when I couldn't locate her. Then I noticed that people were dancing on the patio. I stepped out the door and a man took my drink and put it on a table. He pulled me out on the dance floor and we started to dance, I was not prepared for this and was very awkward dancing backwards and in high heels. I was pleasantly surprised when a sweet voice said, "May I cut in please." Janie! The man looked startled when she took me and we danced away together, she whispered, "You lead." I did much better then. The music stopped. Janie kept holding my hand. Two men approached us and one of them said, "May I have the next dance with the prettiest girl in the room?" He was looking at Janie. 

She smiled, "Sorry, I have the next dance with her." When the music started we moved onto the floor. She put both hands around my neck and kissed me passionately. We kissed through three more numbers.

Janie grinned and said "Can I lead for one dance?" I nodded and laughed as she messed up on the transition. It was a fast dance and we were mostly dancing apart. There was only one other couple on the floor. Most of the people were watching us. Janie did a twirl then whispered, "I want to twist you back and forth." I was afraid she would try and have me do a twirl and I didn't think I could do that. When the tune was near the end she took both my hands and twisted me back and forth, I knew enough to really swing my hips back and forth as far as I could. My skirt flew straight out. She did a quick twirl and her skirt flew up to reveal her white panties, stockings and garters, she was hot!

She led me to the bar where we talked to our host and his wife. Mrs. Baker was a lovely woman in her late thirties. She was quite frank when she laughed and said that they had not realized we were a couple.

Janie smiled and kissed my cheek. She laughed and said, "We sure are, we were married in Canada several years ago when we were both Foreign Service Officers there with our State Department. I hope no one is upset with us, we are just like any other couple, we love each other. If we are offending anyone we will gladly leave, we do not like to be where we are not wanted. We go through this all the time."

Mrs. Baker said, "Hell no! If someone is offended they can leave, you are both always welcome at our home." Mr. Baker said he fully agreed with his wife. He grinned, "That is as long as you don't make a pass at my wife." 

I giggled my best girlie giggle, "Sugah, don' worry yo' li'l ol' head. We ah' deeply in love and ah' monogamous. We have decided that when we want children we will flip a coin to see who has the first child. We will both be present when she is impregnated."

Mr. Baker smiled, "If I can get my wife's permission I will volunteer for that job."

Mrs. Baker laughed, "What makes you think you could do the job, Bill. You haven't gotten me pregnant yet. So forget about it."

Janie said, "Mrs. Baker, we plan to wait a few more years. But I think Mr. Baker would make beautiful babies with either of us."

"I was just teasing Bill, we are not ready either. We will think about it when you are ready. You are the two cutest girls I have seen in years. I know the two of you will have so many volunteers for that job that you won't know what to do with them all. And please call me Jan, I want us to be friends."

We had a good conversation between about six couples. I yawned daintily, Janie said, "My sweet darling is sleepy, I need to take her home and put her to bed. We have both had a wonderful and pleasant welcome to the neighborhood and we hope we haven't upset anyone, we promise we won't bother any of your men, unless we have a tough bottle top we need opened, that's all they are good for anyway, isn't it." All the ladies laughed and we were invited to several Koffee Klatches with the girls.

I swept the house for electronic bugs when we got home. I found nothing. We got ready for bed and took a shower then fixed a small salad for each of us. I was learning to hate salads, what is wrong with a good old hotdog? 

We got in bed and kissed and snuggled together. The next thing I knew was that it was morning. Damn, we were already acting like an old married couple. Then when I finished my morning routine Janie pushed me onto the bed and tried to pull my panties down. I didn't resist too hard and she gently grabbed my cock and put her mouth over it. I was erect and hard as a rock before she closed her lips. I relaxed and let her have her way with me. I moaned and said, "Suck my little clittie, Sweetheart, I love the way you flip it with your tongue." I felt her hand caress my rear end and trace the crack of my ass. I said, "Yes Dear, put your fingers in my pussy." I made up my mind that we should use those terms for my body parts during our love making so anyone overhearing us would think we are just what we claim to be. 




Miss Bernie



I let Janie bring me to the brink then pulled away from her and pushed her on her back and then slipped between her thighs. I wanted to be inside her, I knew it was where I needed to be. My wet cock slipped right into her hot wet vagina. It felt super. It was where I wanted to be. Our lips were pressed together, her tongue inside my mouth, slipping around between my lips and my teeth. Oooo! That was an erotic feeling. Janie began to whimper and mew as I rapidly thrust in and out as fast as I could. She started crying. I slowed to a stop. She screamed, "NO, DON"T STOP, I love it, I love it, loveit, loveit. I am crying for joy. I thought I would never feel this way again." I couldn't move. She looked up into my eyes, into my heart. I knew then that I loved her with all my soul. I saw her love for me. I tenderly held her sweet beautiful face between my hands.

I gently kissed her lips, "Janie, Sweetheart, I have to tell you this, I have fallen in love with you, I felt it when you first woke me up a few days ago, now I know for sure. I love you."

"Oh! Bernie, I love you too, I felt it when I first saw you lying helpless on our bed. I couldn't believe how strong the feeling was when I had to tuck your balls up inside you, I had a hard time finding the holes where they go, after that it was easy, but I was almost overwhelmed by the feelings of a fierce need to protect you, to hold you and nurture you. I never felt that before. Never! I loved my Tommy but not like this. I cried over him for months, now I cry for joy over finding you. I love both of you equally, I love both the male Berny and the girlie Bernie. I love my new husband slant wife." We cried together for a while, I knew part of it with both of us was the feeling of cloture of her life with her dead husband, and a renewal of her life, with me.

We lay quietly clutching each other for a long time. Then she lifted her head, "Breakfast?"

It was warmer that morning so we put on T-shirts, panties, and little white shorts with light makeup. I laughed. She asked what was so funny. I told her that a few days ago I would never have worn white shorts for fear of getting them dirty, now it felt right. She smiled, "I am glad to hear that, you think like a girl now. That means your disguise is damned near perfect." 

I giggled, "It must be, my front in these tight shorts is perfectly flat."

"It sure is, it looks delicious. Mmmmm! Does it still hurt a little or is it getting more comfortable?"

"I don't even notice it anymore."

"Great, we need to take you shopping for a couple of cute Bikinis, I was afraid to buy any when I got your stuff because I just knew you could never be able to wear them."

"Well it will have to wait for another time. Our new family member is due here in about an hour."

"Oh! I forgot. How could I forget that, it's almost like having a baby isn't it?"

"I sure is, he is a damned big baby though, I'm glad we won't have to change his diapers. Would you like to walk around the block with me"

"I would love it, Hon. Is it for the exercise or do you have another motive."

"A little of both, I want to check out the area in the daylight too."

We walked down the sidewalk holding hands. We saw Bill and Jan walking out to their car and waved. They waved us over so we stopped. Jan hurried over to us and kissed each of us on the cheek. Bill gave each of us a little friendly hug. Jan said they hope we had a good time at the party. They said the party lasted an hour or two longer and that everyone asked why we left so early. Jan said that she just asked them how they felt the evening they moved into their house. Most agreed that they wouldn't have even been able to show up. Jan asked if we needed help with anything, she said Bill was very handy and had all sorts of tools. We said our goodbyes and headed out again.

We got about two houses further down the block when a woman ran out and said she was Grace Blaise and that she had met us last night at the party. She offered her help if we needed anything. We said we were fine. A large Rottweiler ran to her gate and barked. She looked at him and said "Hush". He sat and was silent. Janie smiled, "He is well behaved, We are getting a new dog this morning, we are very excited."

Grace asked what breed we were getting. I said, "A Belgian Malinois."

"Oh! Is it a trained protection dog?"

"Yes, he is."

"Oh they are wonderful, our Rottweiler, Bud, is a sweetheart but we really wanted a Malinois, but they were too expensive. What Level of training does he have?"

Janie smiled, "Level III."

"Oh my god, he must have cost a fortune, right?"

Janie smiled, "I thought so too, but that is what my baby wanted so that is what we got. Oh look, that must be him now." She said, pointing to a Mini Van pulling in our driveway. We hurried off. A man and woman were getting out as we walked up.

The man saw us, "Hi! We are looking for the McDonald residence. Is this it?"

"It sure is, we are the McDonalds. Do you have a new family member for us?"

They both smiled broadly, "That is just what we like to hear. You are off to a great start. We would like to take him right into the house before we start introductions." The woman stayed by the van while the man followed us to the door and when I opened the door he nodded to the woman and followed us in. We looked back out the door as she opened the door to the van. She snapped her fingers and pointed down. 

A large black and brown dog jumped out and sat beside her, looking up at her. She said something quietly and walked forward, the dog stayed beside her. She whispered something else to the dog as she approached the door. The dog bounded in the door and looked quickly around, then checked behind the door. He walked back beside her and sat down until she entered the house and sat in a chair, he sat beside her. The big dog was a beautiful animal. He looked carefully at Janie, then looked me over. 

The man smiled and said, "Which of you is Bernice?"I lifted my hand. He looked at the dog, "Tyler, this is Bernice, she is your new Mistress, give her your paw." He stepped forward and extended his right paw. I took his paw in my hand. He brought his massive head forward and smelled my hand. He licked it and sat up again. 

I looked up at the man, he smiled and nodded. I looked back at the dog, "Tyler, this is Janie, your other new Mistress, give her your paw. He repeated his greeting with Janie. She reached out and rubbed his head. The man said, "Tyler, relax." The dog lay down and put his head on my foot and a paw on Janie's foot, his tail was wagging a mile a minute, slapping on the floor. 

The man introduced himself as Mr. Abe Grant and his wife Sandra. We offered to let them stay with us but he said they were more comfortable at a motel. I told him we had made reservations for a room for two at the Best Western Inn in Ocala just Off I-75, about 25 minutes away. I added that they had room 163 and two nights were paid for. He grinned, "Great, now let us tell you how lucky you are about Tyler. Tyler was ordered by an executive, he wanted the very best dog available, the pick of the litter and the best dog we could find. He said he would pay a twenty-five percent bonus if we would pick three of the very best puppies we could find, have them home raised with other dogs and with children, small and large. We would get the dogs when they were ready to train, and train them to the highest level we are capable of reaching. We finished training the dogs and Tyler was easily the best, we think he is the best dog we have ever produced. We have been unable to contact the buyer for three months now. He gave us a good non-refundable deposit on Tyler, so you will get him at the base cost of an average Level III."

I smiled and walked to our desk and picked up our check book, "How much do we owe you?"

He gave me a figure less our deposit. We spent the next two days learning all about Tyler. We learned to say 'Tyler' before each command. Both Janie and I fell in love with him, he was an eager and intelligent companion as well as a vicious attack dog. If one of us made a mistake in his command he would look at us and cock his head, as if to say, "Tell me what you really want me to do." 

Mr. Grant said, "If you want Tyler to go everywhere with you, buy him a guide dog harness and wear dark glasses and you can take him anywhere. He will turn whatever way you want him to go if you put pressure on his harness toward the way you want him to go."

Having worked with military attack dogs I caught on pretty quickly and helped Janie learn too. Tyler loved Janie. Where ever she went he was close by. At first he was upset when ever I kissed her. Then I called him over where we sat on the couch. I had him put his front feet up on the seat between us. Jane and I kissed with lots of tongue play right over the end of his nose. We moaned and licked each other's tongues, I would softly say 'Mmmm good' over and over. He backed down and watched for a while before he dropped his big head and closed his eyes.

Before we would make love, Jane would send him to the living room until we were through. I don't think she ever noticed but Tyler would sneak back and watch us for a while.

Tyler was a wonderful addition to our family, he allowed me to sleep at night confident he was always alert. He slept a lot during the day. He prowled the house silently at night. We tested him now and then by having someone make a small noise at the front door. Tyler would listen for a moment then run to our room and lick me where ever he could find bare skin. I would jump up and get my pistol and go see what was going on. I would let him out a door on the other side of the house from the noise. I would wait until he scratched at the door and let him in. We had friends watch him from across the street.

If the noise was at the front door he would go to the door and cast about, trying to pick up a scent. When he found it he would follow it to the edge of our property, and watch in that direction constantly smelling the air. Then he would circle the house checking everything. When he felt all was clear he would scratch to get back inside. I always had a treat for him. As far as we could tell there were never any false alarms. Once a he caught a coyote and killed it. He brought me five or six dead armadillos in the first couple of weeks.

Jeanie and I took him with us whenever we could. When one of us went to the grocery store Tyler would wait outside by the door. We put a leash on him and draped the end of the leash over a convenient small sign showing the hours of opening and closing. He was always there when we came back. Children could pet him and climb on his back. Adults could not get near him without a snarl or a snap. 

One day I came out and a Deputy Sheriff was standing watching him. I said, "Tyler, Come." and he bounded to my side. 

The officer said, "Pardon me Ma'am, is that your dog?" I said that he was my dog. He said he was going to give me a ticket for breaking the leash law. I told the officer he had a leash on. He said you must hold the leash or have the dog secured at all times. I said that the dog had been secured at all times. He said that I was wrong the leash had not been tied to anything.

I said, "Does being secured mean that the dog is prevented from moving from a certain place?"

He agreed with me. I led Tyler back to the sign and draped the leash over the sign again. I said, "Tyler, Stay!" I walked over to the deputy and said, "Move him."

The office smiled and eased over and got the end of the leash. He said, "See, he is not secure!"

"Sure he is, he hasn't moved."

The Deputy pulled hard on the leash. The dog didn't move. He pulled harder. The dog didn't move. By this time a crowd had gathered and were watching. The Deputy gave a hard yank and the leash snapped. He held up the broken leash, "See, he is not secure."

"He hasn't moved."

The crowd laughed and jeered. "He hasn't moved, he hasn't moved!"

The Deputy drew his night stick and started toward Tyler. I said, "Wait, If you try to hurt that dog I will release him so he can defend himself, he will hurt you. Don't try it." The deputy moved closer. I said, "Tyler, Hold!" Then the Deputy jumped toward Tyler and swung the baton at him. Tyler ducked and grabbed the Deputies arm. I screamed, "Tyler, Hold!" Tyler had the Deputy by the wrist and sat and held him. The Deputy was trying to get his gun. I yelled, "Deputy, if you touch that gun the dog will rip you hand off and disarm you. Don't try it." I walked over to the Deputy, "Has he hurt you?"

"No, not really, he is just holding me."

"Right, and the dog still hasn't moved, right?"

"No ma'am, he hasn't moved, he is apparently very secure where he is."

"Tyler, release, now!" The dog let the wrist go. The Deputy checked his wrist. There were a few red marks but the skin was not broken. He reached for his nightstick. Tyler growled deep in his throat. The Deputy froze. I said, "Tyler, heel!" The dog moved to my side. I smiled my cutest and most innocent smile, "You can get it now. Mr. Deputy, Suh, is it all right fo' ma puppy an' Ah to go on ouwa way?"

"Yes Ma'am, just be sure to keep him on a leash."

"Oh! Yes Suh, My My! You are so forceful, no wonder they made you an Officer. Bye Bye Now."

The crowd yelled, "Bye Bye Tyler!" I pushed my cart to my car and the Deputy followed me and helped me load everything in the car. I thanked him and he said, "Ma'am, that is some dog, he could have killed me, right?"

"If he thought you were harming me he would kill you in a heartbeat."

"Aren't you afraid he might hurt a child."

"Officer, I have seen Tyler sit and let a two year old bite his ear until it bled. Tyler just whimpered. Don't ever spank a child around him. He will stop you. He dearly loves kids."

"Thank you Ma'am, are you by any chance married?"

"Why yes I am. To the most beautiful girl you have ever seen. G'Bye now!" 

When we got home Janie wanted to know what took us so long. I told her Tyler had a run in with the law. She had to hear the whole story. I told her how the Deputy's jaw had dropped when I said I was married to the most beautiful girl in the world.

Janie said, "Of course it did, all he could see was a beautiful girl in tiny shorts and a peasant blouse with her tities on display." She giggled, "I'll bet he had a boner too." 

"Yes he did! He was real cute too!"

"Hey, you aren't chasing guys now are you?"

"Hell no, I am a confirmed lesbian now. I only chase you, Sweetie!"

"Hey, I bet you could catch me now."

"Not 'til we put the groceries away, I have some frozen stuff in here."

I did catch her later, I guess I am much faster than she is because I never have much trouble catching her. Right! Letting her go is a bigger problem. I never want to let her go after I catch her.

A week later we removed my false breasts and checked the skin beneath them. I had been itching badly and we were not surprised to find I had a bad rash under both breasts. Janie was very concerned and called the Agency Medical people about the situation. We were told to meet the Case Physicians at a local Motel that afternoon at 2 o'clock. We decided to take Tyler in the car with us. When it was time to get ready Jane suggested I wear a sundress with a built in bra and wear white heels. She had foam breast forms I could insert in the bra cups.

The meeting was interesting. The Doctors said Tyler could come in with us because it was too hot in the car. The Doctors, both female, could not believe that I looked so completely female. They asked a lot of questions about how I felt about being a female. I told them that at that point I loved the way I looked and wanted to stay that way. 

One doctor said, "So you want to go ahead with surgery and become female?"

"NO! I don't want to be a female, I love being a SHEMALE."

Janie softly said, "That is what BOTH of us really want."

"Have you fallen in love? Are you a real lesbian couple now?"

I answered, "Yes I guess we are, all our neighbors are convinced that that is what we are and are comfortable with that, so are we. We do have normal male on female sex almost every time."

"Well I am pleased with your decision, Mr. Jenkins presents himself as a totally feminine person, so much so that I really didn't believe that he was Mr. Jenkins when I first saw him come in a few minutes ago. His movements, mannerisms, and voice are just perfect. He will not be able to continue with the artificial breasts because of the rash. I am going to recommend breast enhancement surgery as soon as the rash is cured. I estimate that will be cleared up in three days. We can start him on a hormone course of therapy that will give him natural breasts that will grow above the implants. The saline gel in the implants can be periodically removed as the desired size is reached, or you may get too big. I believe the gel can be removed in an outpatient mode with several visits to your home. The implants will require a short hospitalization. If you agree, I will go ahead and schedule the procedure for five days from now. If there is a problem with the rash we can reschedule. I would like to see her then anyway." She took my hand and led me to a window and looked at my face carefully, "Damn girl, you are just beautiful, I would recommend a slight Tracheal Shave while you are there." She rubbed a finger across my face and turned to the other doctor, "Look at this, she has only a trace of makeup on. I would give my right arm to look this good, I think she should have been born a girl."

The other woman looked closely at my face, "You are right, I am glad that skin is not going to be wasted on a man." She turned and asked Janie if there were anything else she wanted changed. Janie said she was worried about my male plumbing breaking out in the rash too. 

The doctors had me remove my panties and lay on the bed. Then they asked Janie to take some towels and wash cloths soaked in warm water and show them how she sprayed me then removed the glue used to hold my parts in place. They watched her carefully. They asked how often she removed the glue. 

She blushed and said she removed it every night and glued everything back in the morning. They poked at and handled my cock and balls and soon had me hard as a rock. Tyler growled, I said, "Tyler, Stay." He did.

One of them laughed and said she would probably leave my cock out most of the time and get me several gaffs to wear unless I was going to wear very revealing clothes or go swimming in a tiny Bikini. "I can see your sweetie loves to wear a Bikini from her tan lines." She giggled, "It doesn't cover very much." I got dressed again and went to the bathroom and touched up my makeup a bit. They were talking about Tyler when I returned. One Doctor was writing out prescriptions, she handed them to Janie, Janie smiled and showed me one. It was a note permitting the guide dog, Tyler, admission to the hospital waiting room on the day of my operation.

The operation was a great success, I was back to a 'C' cup and loved the feelings I had in my nipples now. Any place Janie touched my breasts was erotic to me now. WOW! I wanted her to touch them all the time.

My throat was smooth now and they had tightened up my vocal cords just a hair so my natural voice was Bernice's voice now, I had to imitate Bernard's voice. 

Janie and I fell into a routine that would last for years. We would do exercises and a little dancercise to the music from a DVD together each morning. Tyler sat and watched us carefully. He would do his best to imitate what we were doing. He did pretty well on the push-ups but couldn't figure out a way to do sit-ups. Barbells stumped him too but he loved to dance around on his hind legs when we were dancing or doing other exercises.




Miss Betty



My name is Betty Fielder and I have been happily married to the same man for the past 20 years. David was my high school boyfriend and we were married when he graduated from college. He is the only person that I have ever had sex with and our sex life over the years has been very gratifying. We have two boys that are 12 and 14 years of age. 

David is a very successful businessman whose job requires that he travel extensively through out the world. Sometimes he is gone for weeks at a time. I do not work and spend my days taking care of my home and our two sons. Both are excellent athletes and play all of the sports. Most of my afternoons are spent attending their games.

I love routine and after the boys are off to school in the morning I go to the local health club to work out. I do this every week day morning at 8:00 o'clock. When I return home at around 10:00 I shower and work on the computer for a couple of hours. 

About six months ago while surfing the net I came across the Literotica website and my curiosity got the better of me. I began reading the new stories that appear each day. I have always enjoyed sex with my husband but these stories turned me on in ways that I had never dreamed of.

During my life to this point I would occasionally masturbate and found it to be an enjoyable experience. Once I found Literotica I began to masturbate daily as I read the stories. As soon as I finished my work out I rushed home to take my shower. 

When finished I would put on my robe, walk into the computer room, lock the door and turn on the computer. As it warmed up I would pull my hair back into a pony tail and secure it with a rubber band. I would then remove my house coat and drape it over the chair so that I would have quick access to it if anyone came into the house.

I am now totally addicted to porn. I sit in my chair totally naked and read and play with my pussy for at least one hour each day. 

I am 5'10" tall and weigh 125 pounds, with long straight light brown hair. I am extremely thin with long, slender legs that are hard from many hours of strenuous work outs.

I have a fine tight ass that any woman would die for. If it were not for my small tits I would have a long, perfect body. 

In the tit department I am a little on the small side. I am between an A and a B cup but I have extremely long and sensitive nipples. When aroused they take on the texture of an eraser on a #2 pencil and become about an inch long, I could probably do without wearing a bra if my nipples were not so prominent when I am aroused or chilled. So I wear a slightly padded one. 

My pussy is surrounded by a dense bush of soft brown hair. When aroused my clit, like my tits, is extremely long and protrudes like a miniature cock. 

As I read the stories I play with the lips of my pussy whose inner lips are long and thin and protrude even when I am not aroused. It begins to juice up immediately and as I manipulate it my love juice thickens to a milky white substance. I like to twist two of my fingers and work them in and out of my pussy. My cum is worked into a thick frothy texture that completely surrounds my hole. 

I like to occasionally remove my fingers and suck this concoction. While doing so I make slurping sucking noises. 

I love the taste of my love juice. I call it my sauce. If it were possible I would love to bend down and lick and suck my own pussy. I would slurp my sauce from in and around any part of it and suck my cock like clit until I exploded. 

I like to work it for about an hour for I have discovered that I am multi-orgasmic and can cum many times for an extended period of time. I always finish with a mind boggling super orgasm.

Lately as I work my sauce into its thick, frothy goodness I wait until it works its way down to my asshole. Then I take my fingers and work it around the rim until it is totally lubricated. I then slide one of my long fingers knuckle deep into my asshole. 

I saw it back and forth several times and then place the thumb of that same hand in my pussy. With the fingers of my other hand I pinch, pull and rub my clit unmercifully. 

I sit back in the chair, place both feet on the desk and forcefully fuck my fingers. My ass just jack hammers into my fingers until I climax. 

I then take my fingers and lewdly suck every drop of my goodness off. I then scoop every drop that I can find and loudly slurp it into my mouth. I love to eat my cum. Can't get enough!

I have made the determination that at 41 years of age I am ready for a sexual adventure. I have decided that I intend to suck and fuck a strange cock and satisfy my overwhelming desire to eat pussy. 

I do not know if this qualifies me as a sexual deviate or not but one thing that I know for certain is that I will live out my fantasy.

My problem is that I do not want to sacrifice the life that I now have. I love my husband and our love making. I also love my sons and my life style. I have everything that a woman would want and I don't intend to lose it.

I will have to be opportunist in my selection of sexual partners. I know that I am a beautiful woman and that men find me extremely attractive. Finding a man to fuck will be easy. I just have to select the right ones. 

I have to find potential lovers that I have no connection to. They must be total strangers or people that are in compromising positions. I do not want nor will I allow any emotional attachments. I want pure recreational sex. My quest will begin today.

It is Monday and I just finished my daily masturbation session which ended in my usual thunderous climax. My computer room is up stairs and joins our master bed room after passing through a connecting large bathroom. It overlooks the street that passes in front of the house. 

I see the postman walking down the street and I remember that I promised our neighbor that I would check their mail while they are on vacation. 

Our neighbors are Steve and Sarah Johnson. They are about my age and have an 18 year old daughter named Angie. We have been next door neighbors for the fifteen years that we have lived here. 

Angie is a tiny girl and an accomplished gymnast. She is about five feet tall and weighs about 100 pounds. Angie is an 18-year-old senior in high school and is at a gymnast clinic in another town. So their home is un-attended for the week.

I finish licking the cum from my fingers and slip on a pair of baggy white terry cloth shorts and an oversized, red, Ohio State t-shirt. I leave my hair pulled back in a pony tail. I am still tingly and my pussy squishes when I walk. I love the feeling.

I walked to their mail box, picked up the mail and walked around the back of the house. I unlocked the door and walked into the kitchen. I heard noises coming from Angie's bedroom that sounded like two people enjoying sex.

"Suck my cock Angie. Come on baby you are so beautiful with my cock in your mouth."

I walked down the hall and looked into the room. From my vantage point I was looking directly into Angie's ass. She was facing away from me kneeling between someone's knees and obviously sucking his cock. 

Her tight little ass and pussy were beautiful as her head bobbed up and down as she slurped on that cock. Angie's little love box was glistening with her juices. I felt like rushing in and sucking it but I restrained myself.

"Don't suck anymore Ang I am close to cumming and I want to fuck you before I do. Come up here and ride me baby."

"Damn it Coach but I love to suck your cock."

Angie moved up straddled her lover, grabbed his cock and worked it into her pretty little pussy. 

As she slid down on it she exclaimed, "Oooh, I love the way it fills me up. You can cum in me too. I am on the pill so fill me up with your hot cum."

She leaned forward and began to work here ass up and down on his pole. At first her strokes were slow and easy. Then she picked up the tempo and began to violently pound up and down. There was a loud slapping sound every time their bodies came together and Angie began to talk nasty.

"Fuck me hard you bastard. Suck my tits. Make me cum all over your cock. Oh, oh, oh, oh, shiit. I love fucking. You make me so hot."

This was obviously not Angie's first time to fuck.

I was looking directly into where there bodies connected and it was a sensual sight. Angie's juices began to flow down his cock and into the hair around his balls and his ball sac.

I felt like walking in and start licking and sucking his balls and her pussy as they fucked. Her little puckered ass hole was beautiful and I wanted to run my tongue into it.

Every time she raised her ass her pussy lips would grip his cock and were pulled out. When she plunged back down they were sucked inside.

"Oh fuck I am going to cum big boy. Keep pounding that dick into me. Arrgh, Shit. I'm cumming."

"Me too pretty baby. Keep working that pussy. I am going to fill it up. Here it comes. Arrgh, I'mmm cuumming toooo!"

Angie collapsed onto her lover and said "Lets rest awhile and then I want you to fuck me doggie style."

Some of his cum begin to leak from her pussy and down his cock. I wanted to taste it badly. I decided to make my move and walked into the room.

"It looks like someone has been enjoying the morning" I said.

Angie quickly jumped up and spun around sitting on the bed facing me. She shouted, "Miss Betty what are you doing here?"

"Don't either one of you move. Stay exactly where you are. I didn't think that anyone was here. Your mother asked me to keep an eye on the house because no one would be here for the week. I thought that you were at a gymnastic clinic. I was bringing in the mail like your mother asked me to."

"Please don't tell Momma." Angie begged.

"Who is this and how long has this been going on," I asked.

"This is Billy Tompkins and he is the gymnastics coach at Michigan Tech. He is an instructor at the clinic that I am attending."

"Do you fuck all of your instructors?" I asked.

"No Maam. We met once before at another clinic and I thought that he was hot. I flirted with Coach a little bit but I didn't think that I would ever see him again. When he showed up at this clinic I saw an opportunity and I thought that if I played my cards right that I might be able to get him to fuck me. So I offered myself to him and he said yes. We were able to slip away in my car and came here. I knew that no one would be home but I didn't think about you checking the mail."

"Miss Betty please don't tell mama. She would die if she knew about this. Please don't tell her."

"What about you Billy boy. You do know that you could lose your job over this."

"Yes I do and I have a wife and baby at home. Angie looked so sexy to me and I just couldn't resist her. I didn't think that anyone would find out. I'll do anything if you do not tell her parents about this. It won't happen again I promise."

"We'll do anything. Please don't tell"said Angie.

"I won't tell under one condition" I answered.

"What is that?" asked Angie.

"I want to play with the two of you. Now! I want to fuck both of you. Your bodies are so tight and beautiful and watching you fuck has really turned me on. You may have your way with me but I am in charge. Do you agree?"

"Yes maam, but what do we have to do?" Asked Angie.

"You just sit there while I suck Billy's cock. Sit on the edge of the bed big boy. You have a beautiful cock and it's all coated with your juices. I want a taste." 

I dropped to my knees in front of him, grabbed his cock in one hand and took the head of his dick into my mouth. I begin to slurp and tongue his cock's big purple head. 

I begin to salivate and saliva filled my mouth and drooled out of the corners. It ran down my chin and unto my t-shirt. Damn he tasted so good. 

I removed my hand and swallowed the whole thing. My chin was resting on his balls with my nose in his pubic hair. I then began to suck him vigorously. I loved the taste of their combined juices. I can't believe that I am actually doing this but I love the feeling that I have. I bobbed my head slowly up and down sucking vigorously and making loud slurping noises. I was like a starved animal that couldn't get enough.

"Damn, Angie your Miss Betty can really suck a cock. Suck pretty lady, suck it hard."

"Suck it Miss Betty. I love those slurping sounds," said Angie.

I pulled my head back and a long string of saliva extended from my mouth to the head of his beautiful cock. I begin to loudly suck Angie's pussy juice from the hair around his balls. I then sucked one of his balls into my mouth and rolled it around with my tongue.

"That's it suck my balls baby. Now suck the other one."

I was more than willing to do that and I switched. By this time his balls were coated with saliva as was the hair that surrounded his cock.

I knew that it was too soon for him to cum again and I wanted to taste my first pussy. I let his ball sac slip from my mouth and I leaned back and looked at Angie who was staring at me with wide eyes as she sat on the bed.

"Angie, get on all fours and move to the edge of the bed, doggie style. You know the position. Move to the edge of the bed I want to suck your pretty little pussy."

She quickly moved into the position as instructed and said, "Miss Betty I've never done this before."

"This is my first time too pretty baby but I intend to make the most of it."

As I looked at that beautiful pussy and cute little asshole I began to salivate profusely and with my mouth hanging open the drool ran from its corners and dripped down my chin where it formed a single long line. A large drop of Billy's cum was hanging from Angie's cunt and I bent forward and sucked it down with my mouth. Damn but it tasted good.

Angie squealed, "Oh god, fuck!"

I flattened my tongue and ran it the length of her pussy to her little asshole and then down again. Their combined juices were plentiful and tasty. I made loud slurping sounds as I sucked all that I could find. I moved down to her clit and pulled the little bud into my mouth and begin sucking and gently biting it with my teeth.

"Oh suck my clit Miss Betty, suck it hard. Damn but your mouth is good. You are going to make me cum. Awwwhh I'm cumming."

I raised my head for a second and said, "Cum for me pretty baby, cum hard!"

Billy chimed in with, "Cum Angie! Look at me when you cum. You are so beautiful when you do."

I quickly resumed my sucking and slurping until she finished her orgasm. But I wasn't finished with her yet. I again flattened my tongue and licked her entire pussy up to her asshole. I then begin to loudly lick and suck on her little puckered hole. I was out of control. I rolled my tongue up and begin to probe her asshole. I was actually fucking it with my tongue. Her asshole was making little gripping movements as if trying to grab my tongue.

"That's it Miss Betty lick my asshole. Fuck it with your tongue. Tongue fuck my asshole. God, Billy she's tongue fucking my asshole. I'm going to cum again. Shiiit I'mmmm cuuummming!" Angie screamed.

I backed away. Her asshole and pussy were covered with my saliva. Damn, I just ate my first pussy. It way my 18 year old neighbor's pussy and I loved it. I am one nasty bitch. The saliva hanging from my chin was dripping onto my Ohio State t-shirt.   I then realized that I still had my clothes on. I pulled the shirt over my head and threw it on the floor. My nipples were hard and extended at least an inch from my little titties.

"Suck my nipples Billy. Suck them hard!"

"Miss Betty they are so long and hard. I've never seen any like this."

"Just like a small cock. Suck them Billy Boy. God! Yes! That's so good. Suck baby suck. I need for you to fuck me. Doggie Style."

I got up, pulled my shorts down and moved unto the bed. I got on all fours on the edge with my ass high in the air. My shorts were dangling around one ankle. 

"Fuck me standing Billy! Stick that cock in my pussy. You will be the first person that I have ever fucked other than my husband and I want you to fuck me good. Put it in and we will start slow. That's it long, deep strokes. Can you cum again Billy boy? I am going to pull it out of you so let's work it hard. Come on baby pound that cock in my pussy." 

And Billy began to pound his cock into my pussy with long powerful strokes. I bucked back against him on each thrust. We were in perfect rhythm. We began slamming together with loud slapping sounds and ripples moved through my ass cheeks. 

God but it felt good. It was going to take Billy a while to cum so I had time to enjoy the ride. I had already experienced many small orgasms but this one was going to be big. Damn we were pounding.

"Move under me Angie and suck my nipples," I said.

"But Miss Betty I've never done anything like that," She replied.

"Do it now and give them a good sucking."

She slid under me and took one of my nipples into her mouth. Damn but that felt good. Her position placed her fine little apple sized tits right in front of my face. The nipples were hard and extended and I began to suck one. This was another first time experience for me. God! I am one nasty slut but I love it. 

Angie began to suck on my elongated nipples with loud slurping sounds. 

She stopped once and said," They are so long and hard. I love the way they feel in my mouth. Keep sucking mine. I love it." 

She kept switching between the two using her tongue and saliva to slurp away at them.

I reached the point where I was about to explode. "I am about to cum Billy boy cum with me."

"I'm close too Miss Betty. Your pussy juice is thick and white and is coating my prick. Let's pick up the pace. Come on buck baby, buck hard. Slam that pussy into me."

"Stroke my pussy hard baby. Fill me with your hot cum. I'm almost there. Pump my ass big boy, pump! Oh gawd, Shiiiit I'mmm Cuuumming! Fill me up!"

"Fuuuuccccckkk I'mmmm ccuuummming too! Oooh, Oooh shiiitt! I feel like I am going to pass out."

Billy leaned into me and rested on my back but his cock remained hard and stayed in my pussy. 

I looked back at him and said, "Stay in me and stroke me real slow. Work our juices. I love the squishing sound it makes. I want to thicken our sauce. Work it slow baby. Make it thick and creamy."

"Miss Betty, you are one great fuck. This is the most intense sexual experience of my life. I love this slow stroking. My cock is so damned hard."

I leaned forward until I was looking down into Angie's face. She had a blissful look on her saliva coated face. I realized that she was a truly beautiful girl with her dark complexion and black hair. 

She had big brown eyes and thick bumble bee stung lips on both top and bottom. Like Angela Jolie's. I realized how kissable and how suckable they were. 

I lowered my mouth and sucked her bottom lip between my teeth and gently sucked it. Then I moved to the upper lip as I trailed my tongue across her teeth. I took it into my mouth and sucked it hard for a second. Then I slid my tongue into her open mouth and sucked on her tongue. 

Then we switched and she sucked mine. I can not describe the feeling. I was in Nirvana.

"Do you like what I am doing baby girl." I asked?

"Oh yes Miss Betty. Please don't stop I like the way it makes me feel." She answered.

"But I have to Angie girl I want you to eat my pussy. Pull out Billy. How is our sauce?"

"It's thick and frothy and everywhere. I want to taste it." He said.

"No I want Angie to clean my pussy," I said.

Billy's cock popped out as I crawled over her body and lowered my sopping wet pussy to her face. She did not hesitate and quickly begin to lick and slurp noisily away at the combination of juices that filled me. I slid my pussy back and forth over her face.

"Billy and I made a nice thick sauce for you baby girl. Eat it all and don't leave a drop. Jesus Christ but your mouth feels good on my pussy. Lick it off my thighs, Suck it out my hole. Don't forget my ass hole. God, suck and slurp and pull it out of me. Damn but you are one nasty pussy eating little bitch. I love what you are doing. Fuuucck, you are going to make me cum again. Oh, oh, oh shiiitt I'm cuuuuummmmiiiing," I said as I exploded.




Miss Betty



I dropped my mouth to her pussy and begin to lick and suck voraciously and loudly like a starved animal. Angie was so turned on that she came immediately while making a muffled sound into my pussy.

"Billy move up here. I want to suck your dick. I want to clean our sauce from you."

He quickly got on the bed, crawled up to my face and served that beautiful sauce covered rod to me. It was rock hard and the head was still a deep purple color. I knew that it would be impossible for him to cum again but I wanted that juice. 

I loudly sucked the cum from the head, and said, "Suck my clit Angie, suck my little cock"

She took it into her mouth and curled her tongue around it and gently began to suck. This was going to be good and I wasn't going to last long. 

I begin to suck and slurp on Billy's cock with gusto. The taste of our combined juices was unbelievable. God, it was good and I couldn't get enough but I had to pull off because of the magic that Angie was working on my pussy. I was unable to concentrate on my sucking. She was gently biting and sucking my clit and I was about to cum again.

With saliva drooling from my mouth, I said, "I'm close again baby suck my little cock hard. Make me cum. Make me explode. Pull it out of me with that pretty little mouth. Rub that pretty face in my cunt. Put your whole face in it. That's it baby I'm going to blow. Awwww, fuuccking shiitt, I'm there God help me I'mmmm cuuummmmiinng!"

I should have had enough but I had to see Angie's pretty little cum covered face so I moved back down. Her face was slick and covered with our combined juices. Her mouth was slightly ajar and I see that her teeth were coated with our sauce. Her eyes were glazed and slightly crossed. The poor little girl was lost in an intense sexual high. A big glob of Billy's cum was in one of her nostrils. I could not resist so I bent down and gently sucked it into my mouth. I then gently begin to lick her pussy juice coated face lightly like a cat slurps his milk.

"You are beautiful Angie with our sex sauce all over your face. Did you like to eat my pussy baby" I asked?

"Oh yes Miss Betty. I am sorry if I got carried away. I loved the taste. I loved the smell. I loved the texture. I can't help myself. I love eating your pussy."

I resumed my licking trying to be gentle and not slurp but every now and then I would get carried away. I know for sure now that I am one nasty bitch. I love to fuck and suck. I do not know where this journey will take me but I know that I am going to enjoy the ride.

I finally licked the last vestige of cum from her face and said, it's time for me to go. My boys have a game at four o'clock and I have to make myself presentable.

"Both of you get yourself cleaned up and get yourselves back to that clinic. No one ever needs know about this. Your parents will never know Angie. All three of us have too much to lose. This will never happen again. Go back to your job and your family Billy and never come back to this house again."

I pulled on my shorts and saliva soaked t-shirt and walked out of the back door and over to my house. I love that fresh fucked feeling and I can not wait for another sexual opportunity to present itself.



Miss Big Pussy



Here I was at 26. Bored, broke and worst of all single. I lived alone in a one bed room apartment downtown, the one thing I did have going for me and spent my nights working a dreadful factory gig manufacturing pickled foods. Pigs feet, pig lips, pigs ears, eggs, sausages, you name it. If it could be soaked in salt and vinegar I was stuck there mass producing it. The checks were cool but the hours and the smell were a real nuisance. 

My time spent away from work was typically devoted to masturbating in front of the computer. My normal routine was to wake up, bang one out before work and then spend the next 10 hours fantasizing about how amazing my night time stroke sessions were going to be. I loved it all...Fat bitch's, skinny bitch's, white bitch's, black bitch's, big tit's, small tit's. if it was online I was getting off to it. Not that I couldn't score real pussy. Quite the opposite. I was tall, roughly 6ft3, brown hair with green eyes. I just chose not too...At least in the short term. 

The last few weeks though things had changed. A voluptuous black ssbbw had just moved in next door and her stroke sessions sounded just as hardcore as mine if not more. Her name was Asia Blue and she was a brick house, literally. She stood roughly 5'11, I estimate around 350-400lbs, massive titties and an ass that wouldn't quit. In the mornings I would catch her leaving for work on my way in. Damn was she a fox. Flawless make up on a face that resembled a larger Halle Berry, gold trimmed eye glasses, interchangeable wigs, bracelets, necklaces and accessories out the ass. Best of all was her aroma. When Asia Blue walked past you in the hall it was almost like a trance that caused you to float in the air and follow her around. Not that you needed anymore of an excuse. Her curve hugging professional attire was enough to snap even the stiffest of necks. 

With my night time shift and her day time hours we were really only home around the same time for about 4 hours. Like clockwork I could count on Ms. Blue to start revving up in the early evening not long after work. Her moans were loud, almost painful like she was crying out for help more than relieving herself. At first I would press my ear against the wall to hear her better but after a few days her screams would get so loud that I could listen to them from kitchen while cooking dinner. My favorite was when I would hear a loud thump against the wall. it wouldn't typically last for about 5 minutes until she came and then she would go back to her bed or wherever. The woman was a well-oiled machine. Occasionally I could almost swear to hearing her wetness through the walls. 

Every now and again I could be convinced by some friends to get belligerently drunk on a Saturday night and cruise around the local bar scene until dawn chasing trim. On this particular night I was a real public menace. The keg of Grey Goose vodka I chugged had taken control and my hands (and mouth) took on a life of their own. It's a wonder I didn't get my ass kicked by a jealous boyfriend, roughed up by a bouncer or tossed in the drunk tank down at the county jail. 

I arrived home by taxi around 7am Sunday morning. I was clinging to the walls for support and could barely lift my legs up the stairs. About half way up the steps I had managed to pass out for a moment and fall half way over the railing. A hand had gripped my shoulder and pulled me to my feet, better yet...Against her voluptuous body. It was Asia Blue, I could recognize that perfume a mile away. She had placed her bible on the ground to free up a hand to better support me. I clung to her like a monkey on a branch. As we walked up the steps my hands had took it upon themselves to follow the curves up her hips to the bottom of her ass and up her skirt. She attempted several times to smack it away with a guilty giggle. A put the cobra clutch to her giant ass cheek and squeezed as hard as I could. She let out a deep breath and continued to walk me down the hallway without trying to stop me. As we got closer to her apartment I could feel my fingers getting wet. With every step her pussy splashed a little bit more down her legs and up her butt cheeks. 

We approached her apartment where she lied me down on the couch and prepared me a tall glass of ice water. She sat down next to me, playing with my hair as I guzzled the liquid. A few minutes later the buzz was wearing down and she removed a trey from beneath the couch. She rolled us a blunt, her thick lips blowing smoke into the air without a care in the world. 

As I took control of the blunt her hand gripped across my chest and caressed its way down to my pants, grabbing my bulge and massaging it with her fingers through the fabric. Asia Blue licked her lips and excused herself to the bedroom. 

It didn't take long for her to reveal herself. The woman was angelic, an orgasm to the eyes. There she was. 350lbs of deliciousness wrapped in tiny white lingerie that caused her fat rolls to hang over them. Her big belly hanging down almost to her mid thighs and titties imprisoned by the thinnest of fabrics. She stood well over 6ft in her white leather knee high heels. 

She grabbed me by the hand and led me to her bedroom, my eye's fixated on her bouncing ass cheeks. 

As we got to the room the first thing I noticed was the massive green dildo attached to the wall next to my bedroom, The wall around the base of the dildo had become darker shade of white due to the pounding it has endured the last few weeks. This thing was massive, well over a foot long and as thick as a subway sandwich. 

Asia lied down on the bed, her legs spread open with a desperate look upon her face. Her pussy lips were fat with pink walls and a hairy bush, her swollen clit throbbing to be sucked. I kneeled down before her with my clothes still on from the night before. I immediately began sucking and licking, her pussy opening with wetness and glistening on my face. Her screams were window shattering but it still did not feel like enough. I placed two fingers into her pink snatch and began pounding away as I sucked at her clit. My head was engulfed in thighs, her fingers massaging my scalp and forcing my face harder as she grind against it. Her wetness had become so overwhelming that I had to force her away from me to catch my breath. 

As I looked down at her massive pussy, watching in amazement as it continued to open, almost as if it were breathing, I realized what had to be done. I tore my shirt off my back and plunged my fist into her cunt wrist deep. Asia was so wet that my hand slid in without any sort of resistance at all. if anything it felt as if it were getting bigger. She forced her hips into my hand causing it push deeper into her womb past her cervix. I was nearly elbow deep into this amazing black woman's pussy and loving every second of it. I began thrusting into her with hard punches, punishing her insides and licking my lips as her wet sticky love splashed onto my face. I leaned down to lick on her fat black clit as I hammered harder into her, bottoming out at just past my elbow. 

Instead of gripping tighter her pussy seemed to be stretching even more, begging to pounded harder and deeper. I placed my other fist in her pussy and blasted away. My fingers gripping her cervix and tickling her walls. Asia Blue was partying on my arms, her fat belly jiggling as she clinched her titties together squeezing on her hard nipples. She closed her eyes, bit her bottom lip and grinded her teeth before unleashing a flurry of wall crushing screams. It was hard to tell if she was orgasming or having a baby but for the first time her pussy walls clinched and I was suddenly drenched in a slimy lair of cum. A wave of liquid squirted from her gaping pussy hole and onto the floor. 

Asia pulled me towards her, obviously relieved to have finally reached the climax she had been aspiring for but unable to get by herself. She kissed me passionately, our tongues twisting together and eyelashes locking. She reached down to undo my pants and unleash my rock hard cock. I slid down her massive body to lick beneath her enormous titties, my hands grabbing onto her fat rolls. She spread her thunder thighs and guided my cock into her gaping pussy. 

I knew my cock was no match for her big pussy but I didn't care. Her tongue licked in and out of my ears and on my neck as I thrust into her, my dick puny by comparison, swimming in a sea of love, my balls smacking into her puckering black butthole. Her big hands clawing into my back as I grinded on her clit. She reached further down grabbing ahold of my ass, spreading the cheeks apart and tickling my asshole with her manicured fingernails. Her pussy was so lose that it released a wet queef with each thrust of my dick. 

My balls were ready to explode, my thrust got deeper and harder until I unleashed wave after wave of creamy white ropes of cum into her. I lied on top of her for a moment, her enormous belly feeling more like a water bed then a woman. 

I rolled over on to my back. Asia rubbed her pussy and licked my cum off of her beautiful nails. She smiled at me and went down on my dick for leftovers. She licked passionately on my limp cock, digging her tongue in my hole, lifting the balls and french kissing my asshole. She didn't give a fuck and neither did I.



Miss Bixley Lends a Hand



This story is about Miss Bixley, a sequel to "Teddy has a hard day." It was written on the suggestion of Hitsomeskins, a Literotica member. The story is also inspired by Japanese teacher movies staring Nana Natsumi, Rio Hamasaki, Shou Nishino, and many others. I placed it in the mature (May/December) genre section. There are other themes in this story but I do feel the story fits most appropriately within the mature category, as this May/December theme is consistent throughout. Everyone in this story is at least eighteen years old.

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Miss Bixley was the Templeton College Romance Languages and Literature teacher. All the students liked her. All students dislike some of their professors some of the time, and some students dislike many of their professors all of the time, but nobody disliked Miss Bixley any of the time. What was to dislike? She was such a sweetheart. If you ever had a concern, a personal problem, you could always count on Miss Bixley for a considerate ear, a kind word, a reassuring smile, and a helping hand.

The Templeton Andy Griffith Club had given her the sobriquet of Thelma Lou. It was an affectionate appellation. Thelma Lou was a character on the Andy Griffith show and Miss Bixley was the spitting image of Thelma Lou. She was really very, very cute. She had twinkling chestnut eyes, rosy cheeks, a perky little nose, kissable red lips, short and curly auburn hair with cute bangs, and a sweet, innocent, feminine voice. She really was the angelic small-town girl. Yet, she was also a smouldering volcano of sexual frustration.

Some might argue that Helen Crump had more sex appeal than Thelma Lou. After all, Helen Crump was Andy's girlfriend, and certainly he should have the prettier, sexier girlfriend, particularly in comparison to Barney! But the consensus position of the Andy Griffith Club of whom to marry, or to at least to spend the night with, favored Thelma Lou. It was true that Thelma Lou would dress in a much more innocent manner than Helen Crump. However, there was a rather stark coldness about Ms. Crump, a sort of sexless manner and appearance, whereas the opposite was suggested by Thelma Lou. Helen Crump would probably be quite boring in bed whereas Thelma Lou appeared to be chaste only because she was too nervous and shy to be assertively sexual, and what girl would or could ever expect Barney Fife to take the lead? Heck, Barney wouldn't even try anything with Skippy, the fun girl from Mount Pilot. In any case, when Barney and Thelma Lou went out to Tucker's lake on a double date with Andy and Helen, it was Barney's face that was covered in red or pink lipstick kisses, not Andy's. One only had to imagine what else was being kissed.

The boys in the Andy Griffith Club imagined that the same must be true for Miss Bixley. Not only did she look like Thelma Lou, she had similar mannerisms, appearances and, perhaps regrettably for Miss Bixley, a similar success with men (Thelma Lou did eventually marry, but it happened after the show ended, so that didn't really count). Miss Bixley was not married, nor did there appear to be a man in her life. She was in fact still pure, just as she appeared. Many a boy in the club considered asking her out but that, of course, would be quite inappropriate.

Templeton faculty were not allowed to date undergraduates, let alone marry them. In some respects it was a rather strange and archaic policy. The students, with only a few very rare exceptions, were at least 18 years old. Certainly all of the members of the Andy Griffith Club were at least eighteen. The students at the college had the legal right to date and marry whom they pleased. Why should the college then have any authority over this? Of course, May-December relationships rarely work out, but even approximately 50% of all marriages end in divorce.

There is though the matter of conflict-of-interest. A faculty member could hardly be objective in her grading if she was dating the student (and perhaps even less if the inevitable break-up was in some way acrimonious). One could perhaps confine the prohibition to students over whom one had a direct academic responsibility, but the objectivity of one's colleagues might also be compromised if they knew the student was dating Miss Bixley. Everybody always wanted to be nice to Miss Bixley. So, if a student did her wrong; well, he could be persona non grata.

Of course, most importantly of all, even if Miss Bixley could date students, what student would dare ask her out? Miss Bixley though did not meet with much success dating men her own age. She had dated a few times but never felt ready to give herself completely to a man, to let him touch her "flower," as she liked to call it. It wasn't that she did not herself become sexually aroused. She had even masturbated quietly in the privacy of her bedroom a few times. Actually, quite a few times. But she felt that it simply wasn't appropriate to go all the way prior to marriage.

However, life for Miss Bixley took a curious turn after her afternoon session with Theodore Newman. She had found Teddy after he had been so horribly teased and mistreated by a group of cheerleaders. They were actually making Teddy jerk off in front of them. She chased them away and in her effort to comfort the boy and ease his pain one thing led to another until Teddy's erect penis was being stroked by Miss Bixley's soft, feminine fingers until he squirted his cum all over the gymnasium floor (see "Teddy has a hard day").

The experience left Teddy quite satisfied and relieved but, in contrast, Miss Bixley was rather confused and agitated. She certainly masturbated that night, even using her little woman's helper as she imagined Teddy's erect penis sliding in and out of her vagina. When she was done she was terribly, terribly embarrassed and ashamed, having thought about a boy, a student, in such a manner.

She considered speaking to a colleague about it, perhaps Mr. Peters. He was certainly a very well regarded and wise man (see "Disciplining young ladies"), but she really couldn't bring herself to admit to such a fantasy to one of her colleagues, let alone the fact of the actual act with Teddy. She considered speaking to a therapist, perhaps Dr. Lowenstein. Dr. Lowenstein did specialize in matters of sexuality (see "Cosplay" or "There must be something wrong with me"), but just thinking about that made her blush. She couldn't actually see a sex therapist!

But, her heart just fluttered as she thought about that afternoon with Teddy, and she repeatedly found herself again and again thinking about him, as her little woman's helper slid in and out of her cunnie. She was so embarrassed to call it her "cunnie," finding that rather obscene. But, when diddling herself it seemed preferable to the more clinical, sexless term "vagina," and was far less slutty and obscene than that four letter word that began with "c" and ended with "t."

When Miss Bixley didn't masturbate it seemed that her nights were filled with dreams of Teddy, she doing things to him, he doing things to her. She wondered if perhaps she might have another meeting with Teddy, just to check up on him, see how things were going. She hinted as such with Mr. Peters when she stopped by to see whether he had in fact followed up on his discipline of the cheerleaders. He had indeed disciplined the entire bunch (see "Mr. Peters must discipline the cheerleaders," "Mr. Peters and the cell phone," and "Jackie learns to balance her studies"), but he also mentioned in passing that he had heard that Teddy had himself sought therapy from Dr. Lowenstein. Miss Bixley certainly couldn't renew her relationship now.

Her nights became stricken with dreams of Teddy, eventually as well with other students. She would awaken with her heart racing, her cunnie all wet and inflamed, and she would reach for her little helper. However, fortunately for her, she soon discovered that Teddy wasn't the only boy who needed a helping hand.

Miss Bixley did a considerable amount of private tutoring. Templeton was a private four-year liberal arts college. It was not a state university whose faculty was primarily, if not solely, interested in their own research careers and the fame and fortune that came from being a successful scientist. Templeton faculty, in contrast, were devoted to the education of their students. So, it was not unusual for a professor to meet individually with a student outside of class, even though it was not a job requirement. Miss Bixley even tutored more students than the average Templeton professor.

Anyone who got 90% correct on a Miss Bixley test would get an A grade. She did not grade on a curve, and she felt that every one of her students should get an A in her classes. So, she was more than willing to provide extra tutoring for any student who got less than 90%. Not all of the students took her up on that offer. A surprising number of them were not in fact interested in getting an A grade. Much to her disappointment, and to the disappointment of many of the faculty at Templeton, quite a number of students were quite happy just getting a B, a C, and shockingly so, even a D, as a D was still a passing grade. Miss Bixley never understood why some students were even in college, as they just seemed to be there to play and party until they graduated, apparently not particularly interested in the educational opportunities that were being offered.

But, that wasn't the case for Ralph Furley. Ralph had gotten a B on the last test and he was very, very disappointed, and concerned. He was a junior at college (nineteen years old), really enjoyed English, literature, and languages and someday hoped himself to become a college professor specializing in romantic literature, perhaps just like Miss Bixley. So, he was devastated when he got a B on the first romance literature test, and then even another B on the second test. If he got one more B there would be no way that he could wind up with an A grade, and he could hardly get into a credible graduate program with less than an A final grade.

It wasn't that Ralph wasn't bright. He was in fact getting A grades in almost all of his other classes, and certainly within all of his humanities courses. He asked to have a private tutoring session with Miss Bixley.

Miss Bixley's tutoring sessions were already booked for that week, but she agreed to stay an extra half hour after class on Thursday. She did like the boy. He was clearly very attentive, highly participatory, and unqualifiedly enthusiastic. A teacher does really appreciate that.

Plus, she could tell by his discussions in class that he was a bright, intelligent young man, and rather cute. He wasn't a hunk by any means. He was rather short, no more than 5 feet 4 inches, a little on the skinny side, with glasses and tousled brown hair. He was no potential football star, but that did not interest her. What was important was that he was highly deserving. There was really no way she could, or would, let him do less than his very best potential could take him.

She had also been impressed when she discovered that he in fact wanted to someday be a professor himself, and a professor of romance languages no less.

He sat down in one of the desks in the front row of the empty class. She stood in front of him, leaning back against her desk.

"Miss Bixley. I do work real hard, honestly," he explained. "I get good grades in all my classes...Well, most of them."

Miss Bixley knew he was being honest. She had looked up his transcripts and was quite impressed with his GPA (grade point average). "Well, yes, I believe you, Ralphie, which is why I don't understand why you haven't done well on the first two tests. You clearly have the ability, and the interest. Why have you fallen short?"

Ralph felt that he knew the answer, but it was difficult to admit. "I don't know, Miss Bixley. I mean, I listen closely to what you're saying, I take good notes, and I study real hard, but when it comes to putting the answers on the test, I just go blank."

Well, he doesn't really just go blank. If he went blank he wouldn't be getting a B grade. He was just falling short of an A. The problem was more subtle than, as he put it, "just going blank." Miss Bixley leaned down and put a reassuring arm around one shoulder, pressing her breasts against the other. "Now, Ralphie, dear, please, I know it must be more than just that. You're such a bright and hard-working student. Tell Miss Bixley what the problem is, and I promise I will help you."

For most students it would be perceived as a rather motherly, reassuring, nurturant hug. To Ralph, and perhaps many other boys, it was difficult to ignore the feel of that soft breast pressing against his shoulder, particularly as his difficulty was in part precisely the feminine anatomy of Miss Bixley. "I don't know, ma'am," he said with considerable skepticism and confusion.

Miss Bixley pressed her breast in harder against him. She did not mean it to be sexual, or at least not consciously. It was a natural, maternalistic gesture to offer one's breast to a student, to a supplicant, in need of help and guidance. A woman comforts and succors her nursling with the bounty of her motherly bosoms. The gesture was instinctual. "Please, Ralphie," she whispered in his ear, "You can tell me. I have helped many young men with their problems."

That was a pregnant remark, at least to Ralph. Did she mean it the way he thought she meant it?

She hadn't. It was just that many of Miss Bixley's tutoring sessions shaded into personal counseling, typically concerning problems adjusting to college, being away from home, difficulty with one's parents, and even at times troubles with girls. A college professor must be many things to her students: teacher, mentor, disciplinarian, counselor, therapist, and even mother. The difficulty was knowing when to wear each hat. It wasn't always obvious. Miss Bixley took an educated guess. She moved around to crouch beside him as he sat in his desk and said quietly, her hand on his knee, "Is it something to do with a girl?"

Ralph couldn't look Miss Bixley in the eye. This was so terribly embarrassing. He looked off to the right and responded, "Sort of."

Miss Bixley smiled sympathetically, although with some amusement as well. It was remarkable how some of these young men were still little boys when it came to girls. Ralph was nineteen, but right now he not was acting like a mature adult. These boys can get so shy, flustered, and tongue-tied. She lightly rested her fingers under Ralph's chin and gently turned his face back to hers. "Now, Ralphie, if you can't tell Miss Bixley, who can you tell?"

She might have a point there. Everyone said that Miss Bixley was one of the most understanding and sympathetic teachers, but he doubted that she would have ever heard of this problem before. But, still, he really did need to tell her if he was ever going to get his grades back up. He had to do something about it. He certainly couldn't drop the class, and if nothing was done then he might never become a professor! He looked meekly into the pretty, endearing eyes of Miss Bixley. Goodness, she was so cute, and she had such a sweet, understanding smile. He said, "I think it's you, Miss Bixley."

"Me?" That took Miss Bixley by surprise. She knew that she wasn't the best teacher at the college. Miss Nishida was the current recipient of Teacher of the Year, and Mr. Peters was by far the most consistently successful instructor. But, still, she was considered to be a pretty darned good instructor, if she said so herself. She withdrew her fingers from Ralph's chin, stood up, clasped her hands before her, apologetically, and said, "Ralph, I'm so sorry. What have I done wrong?"

Most teachers would not be so quick to accept responsibility for the failings of their students. Most feel that it is inherently and inevitably the student's fault for obtaining poor grades. But, there were a few teachers, Miss Bixley among them, who recognized that they did have considerable responsibility for their students' successes, and failures. Very few young men realize their full potential, and if a student could inform the teacher what she could do to help him, Miss Bixley certainly wanted to know.

Ralph was surprised, and upset, at hearing Miss Bixley's misunderstanding of what he had said. "Oh no, no, Miss Bixley, it's not that! It's nothing you've said or done."

Miss Bixley furrowed her brow, leaned forward, her hands on her knees, her breasts perched out before her, and said, "Well, Ralphie, what is it then?"

"It's well, it's just that...I keep thinking about you, Miss Bixley."

They were both quiet for a second or so. Miss Bixley remained frozen in her pose, bending over, her pretty face just inches from his.

Ralph breathed in her perfume. Students were not allowed to wear perfume at Templeton, but the faculty could, and it was always so striking when you were treated to a lovely, enticing scent. Ralph added, in case Miss Bixley hadn't gotten the point, "You know."

Well, that wasn't particularly clarifying, but she did in fact get the message.

Miss Bixley felt her face redden. It was actually quite flattering but still a little embarrassing. She had never known of a student having a crush on her (other than members of the Andy Griffith Club, and that just seemed kind of weird). Frankly, she had been a little disappointed about that. Miss Harding appeared to have many undergraduate admirers (see "Miss Harding teaches the boys a lesson"). Miss Bixley was rather surprised and even a bit jealous about that. It wasn't that Miss Harding didn't deserve it. She was a very striking woman, whereas Miss Bixley recognized that she was herself considerably more demure, perhaps even plain, or at least unassuming. "You're not a member of the Andy Griffith Club, Ralph, are you?" That would explain it.

Ralph looked down toward the floor. "No, no, ma'am, I'm not." He appeared to misunderstand the reason for the question. He turned to her. "If you want me to, I'll join," he offered. He knew that Jesse, also in her class, was a member of the club. He could ask him about it.

"No, no, dear, that wasn't what I meant." She already had one other student in the class who was a member, and that was more than enough.

She had to admit that she was a bit nonplussed. What do you say? What do you do? She stood back up straight, placed a hand reassuringly on Ralph's head, affectionately stroking his hair, and said, "Well, Ralphie, I am really quite flattered. That's really very sweet."

Ralph scowled, averted his eyes, and responded, "That's what I thought you would say."

She shifted her hand to his shoulder, leaned in closer to him, and added, "But, Ralphie, I'm so much older than you. You have to appreciate that."

He did finally look her in the eyes and retorted, "That didn't stop Harold and Maude. You said you loved that movie."

Miss Bixley smiled. She did indeed love that story. It was one of her most beloved romances. But, still, "that was fictional, Ralphie. This is real life."

"Yea, well, what about Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher?"

Ralph Furley was a good student, indeed. Nevertheless, she knew that any such relationship was in fact impossible. If she was going to become involved with someone and she would certainly like to do so, she would much prefer a man her own age. She had no interest in actually becoming romantically involved with a student. "Yes, but Ralphie, I hardly know you."

"Oh, I know that, Miss Bixley. I appreciate that. I wouldn't actually think we could ever actually get really involved, or anything."

That was good to hear. 

"I just thought that maybe we could at least, well, you know, go out, or do something, or something."

Miss Bixley's face again flushed with warmth. She recalled Theodore, her thighs also flushing with warmth with the memory. But, still, that had been a very unusual circumstance, and she had helped him for medical reasons, not for personal, emotional reasons. Plus, it was clearly against school policy for a professor to engage in any such activities with one of her students. Frankly, just thinking about that made her face redden further. Of course, perhaps she misunderstood. He had only suggested a date, or "something."




Miss Bixley Lends a Hand



She tried to let the boy down lightly. "Ralphie, I know how much it would mean to you and I am really very flattered, really I am. If I wasn't your teacher, well, goodness, I'm sure I would...go out and, um, do...something." She wondered if that was really true. Actually, she knew that wasn't true at all. If she wasn't his teacher this whole situation would never have occurred. "But, I am and, well, it just isn't right, it just isn't appropriate. Now, I will be very happy to go over in more detail some of your notes, and help you prepare better for your next test."

Ralph felt and looked terribly dejected. "I wasn't expecting to..." It was difficult to even say it. "You know, do anything." Actually, he was kind of hoping for that, at least in his dreams. That was indeed what he meant by "something." But, it was terribly difficult to admit to that, and his face went beet red at just denying such a thought. "Goodness Miss Bixley. I wouldn't expect you to do that." He kept his eyes averted. "I know I'm not your type. I know you've probably gone out with lots of guys." He figured that had to be true for someone as pretty, sweet, and intelligent as Miss Bixley. A romance literature professor must have had lots of romances. That just made sense, didn't it? The way she talked about famous romances during class, she must have so many of them within her own life.

Miss Bixley could feel her heart breaking for the boy. She didn't mean to hurt his feelings. "Ralphie, no! That's not it at all. Really. I think you are a very handsome young man, honestly."

She was overselling her point, which made her lack of forthright honesty somewhat apparent. "Yea, right," he glumly replied. "I know, okay. Let's just forget about it." He began to pack up his books and papers to leave.

Miss Bixley stepped back. She was at a loss for words. She turned her back on the boy, quite literally, and went to her desk, not wanting to see how disheartened he felt, so dejected, so forlorn, so lost. He was a very good student, clearly very sincere and dedicated. And, you don't see many young men wanting to become romance literature professors. As Ralph stepped away from his desk to head to the door Miss Bixley said, softly, "Wait."

He stopped and turned to her, to his teacher.

Miss Bixley's heart was pounding. She glanced to her right, at the classroom door. It was closed. She kept the door closed when she was tutoring, but she wanted to be sure. She turned back to Ralph. She said very quietly, almost a whisper, "We can't let this get out of hand, Ralphie. You know that, don't you."

Ralph's heart raced, and his cock instantly swelled. Did he hear her right? She was saying what they can't do, but wouldn't that imply doing something short of that? "Oh yes!" Ralph adamantly exclaimed. He had no idea what Miss Bixley had in mind, but it was clearly more than nothing, and nothing was what he had expected. His fantasies, of course, went pretty far, even farther than going all the way, but he never had any real expectation of any fantasies being fulfilled. He would never expect that Miss Bixley would agree to be tied up, which was one of his special fantasies, to tie her up. His cock swelled further in his slacks as he thought about that, gazing at the lovely figure and sweet innocent face of his pretty teacher.

"I tell you what, Ralphie. You are a very good student and I know how much it means for you to become a professor someday yourself. If you think this will help, I will be quite willing to..." She stopped in mid-sentence. She wasn't quite sure what she would be willing. Frankly, she knew from her dreams, if they are in fact a window into your mind, that she was willing to do quite a bit. Just the other night she had dreamed of being tied up by a student, and she could feel a warmth within her thighs as she contemplated that.

"Oh, Miss Bixley, I know it would help. I'm sure of that," yet not knowing at all what she was suggesting she would do. "I just get so distracted. Like, just anything would really help, a lot." He was glad that he was wearing tight briefs. They helped to hold his erection down, perhaps out of sight. He shifted his books to the front of his slacks, hiding his increasingly evident erection. 

"And, you will keep this secret. Only the two of us must know about this. I could lose my job over this, you know."

It was now very clear to Ralph that she was thinking about something that was well past his expectations and perhaps into one of his fantasies. His cock was straining in his slacks. "Miss Bixley, I wouldn't tell anyone anything, not even my mother." As soon as he said that he knew it was a dumb remark. What boy would tell his mother about doing something with his teacher? He did though tell his mother most everything that happened to him, particularly his concerns and problems. Many of the Templeton students still lived at home with their parents, and Ralph was especially close to his mother. He had in fact told her about his crush on Miss Bixley. It was his mother's suggestion for him to speak to her about it. It would then only be natural to tell his mother how it had worked out. But, he knew full well that he really shouldn't do that, assuming that he was not misunderstanding Miss Bixley. His mother still treated him like a little boy, not realizing that he was now in fact a man of the world, fully nineteen!

Miss Bixley wondered why he would even think of telling his mother. Well, he did often appear to be a rather immature, inexperienced, and even insecure young man. Which, of course, did probably contribute to his crush on a womanly professor. She wasn't sure if she should feel flattered by that, or concerned. Well, perhaps a bit of both. He did clearly need a helping hand.

And, it was his innocence that made this all the more easier to do. He wasn't some womanizing BMOC taking advantage of her. He was just a young man who needed her help, her support, her comfort, as his teacher.

"Alright then, Ralph. I will at least let you see, a bit....of me." Her face felt so warm, so hot, as she spoke those words. She hoped that she wasn't blushing too severely. She wanted to maintain her position of authority with respect to this boy. After all, she was his instructor, his professor.

"That would be great, Miss Bixley," Ralph exclaimed, with considerable enthusiasm, and appreciation. Miss Bixley really was a great teacher. He couldn't wait until he told his friends about this, but then realized that he had promised not to do so.

Miss Bixley's legs felt weak and wobbly. This was so inappropriate, so naughty, but she had to admit, if she was being honest with herself, it was the naughtiness that made it so exciting, so thrilling. She could feel herself getting warmer and warmer between her thighs as she slowly unbuttoned her demure, white, cotton blouse.

She couldn't believe it. She was actually doing it. It was like the dreams of the night were now a reality.

Miss Bixley, unlike Miss Harding, was not known for wearing anything particularly striking or provocative. She wore conservative dresses, business suits, and maternal, staid outfits. Frankly, she didn't understand how Miss Harding could dress so provocatively. Didn't she wonder what the boys were thinking, feeling, fantasizing as she stood up at the black board, her bottom subtly wiggling as she wrote across it?

But, at the moment, Miss Bixley's conservative dress made the fact that she was undressing all the more provocative and titillating. Ralph so much wanted to reach behind his books and grasp, adjust, his swollen dick, but he knew that would probably be quite disrespectful. You certainly don't play with yourself in front of your teacher, at least without her permission. He wondered if he could ask her permission. He started to raise his hand to ask her, like he was sitting in class and wanted to go to the bathroom, but would instead be asking if he could jerk himself off. He quickly pulled his hand back down. He did press the books harder against his hardening cock, providing them at least some stimulation as his eyes were so thoroughly stimulated by the sight before them.

Miss Bixley didn't want to take her blouse off, or even pull it from her skirt. If their privacy was suddenly interrupted she wanted to be able to quickly cover herself up, or at least not appear to be undressed. She kept her back to the door as she continued to unbutton her blouse.

When she had most of the buttons undone she pulled open the top of her blouse, revealing to Ralph's eyes the round, frilly cups of Miss Bixley's brassiere covered breasts.

They were truly a wondrous sight to behold. They were not appreciably large. Helen Crump had larger breasts than Thelma Lou, but Thelma Lou's weren't by any means small and they were very firm and well shaped, particularly when snugly held within the comfort and enticement of a white lacy brassiere. Miss Bixley might dress conservatively on the outside, but on the inside, just like Thelma Lou, she often enjoyed wearing lacy, frilly, and sexy things. What the boys in class didn't know wouldn't arouse them, but what Ralphie now knew, did certainly arouse him.

Ralph could feel his dick straining to be released from his slacks. The contrast of the sexy lacy round boobs poking, bursting, out from her conservative white blouse was really very, very striking. He felt he might even be able to see the signs of Miss Bixley's pink areolas and nipples beneath the diaphanous, sheer lace. "Miss Bixley, golly, they're really wonderful!"

"Well, Ralphie," she replied, a smile on her face, "that's very sweet of you to say so." It was certainly quite incongruous to be standing there, in a classroom, holding her blouse open for a student to gaze lustfully upon her breasts. Well, not really her breasts. They were, after all, still hidden within her brassiere. Nevertheless, she did imagine that she was a rather provocative sight. She even giggled to herself, realizing that Miss Harding had probably never done anything like this before, at least she shouldn't have. This was really so terribly wrong, so shameful, so immoral. She felt she could detect some moisture within her panties.

Ralph just had to ask. He hoped it wouldn't be disrespectful, but he would kick himself when he got home for not at least asking. He raised his hand. "Miss Bixley?"

"Yes, Ralphie?" She smiled at the realization that she was calling on a student with her blouse pulled wide open, baring her brassiere. The students would certainly pay better attention in class if she dressed this way every day.

"Could I, like, well, I mean." He couldn't bring himself to actually say it. It's not something that students say too often to their teachers.

Miss Bixley, though, understood. Teachers often understood what was on their students' minds, sometimes even before they knew themselves. He didn't have to say anything. "You want to play with it?"

That was actually a rather ambiguous remark for Ralph. Was she offering him her breasts to play with? No, no, she wasn't saying that. If she had meant that she would have said play with "them," not "it." She was clearly referring to his dick, or at least he hoped he understood her correctly. Sometimes Miss Bixley's lectures were difficult to follow, and how could she know he meant jerking off? But, that really had to be it. "Yes, ma'am, if that's okay...with you."

"Well, yes, of course, Ralphie, that would be perfectly fine." She couldn't really expect him not to get excited looking at her brassiere. Playing with himself was the only natural, obvious thing to do at this point. Plus, she was kind of curious to see what Ralphie's erect penis looked like. It had been so long since she had seen Theodore's.

"Thanks, ma'am!" Ralph gleefully replied, dropping his books down onto the seat of his desk, the top book slipping off onto the floor, hitting the floor with a rather jarring slam. He hurriedly undid his belt and zipper.

"Wait, wait," Miss Bixley warned, a little taken aback at the frenetic urgency of Ralph's interest in playing with his penis. She glanced behind her and admonished, "Not facing the door."

It would perhaps be wiser to retreat to her office but, frankly, her office may hold less privacy than this classroom as she could herself hear and understand Miss Edwards speaking on the phone in her office next door. Plus, she wasn't so sure she wanted to be seen walking across campus with Ralph, in their current flustered states. It might appear innocently enough, but she knew it wouldn't feel particularly innocent. And, well, she might have a change of heart if she put this off.

The door to this classroom did not lock. But, they could shift somewhat away from the door, off to the side. They would be less likely to notice anyone approaching the door, or standing in the doorway, but also less quickly to be seen if someone did enter the room. She strode over to the side of the room and gestured for Ralph to follow her. As she leaned back against the side blackboard she said, "Okay, Ralphie, you can take your penis out now."

"Okay, Miss Bixley." He was so thrilled. This was far better than he could have possibly hoped. He was actually going to show his favorite teacher, the pretty Miss Bixley, his hard naked cock. Not too many students get to do that! Sometimes hard work, studying late into the night, does pay off, and this time big time. He knew full well that if he wasn't such a good student (at least in other classes) she wouldn't be letting him do this. He unbuckled and unzipped his slacks. He considered pulling them down to the floor but, like Miss Bixley, he appreciated that doing so might be too risky. It was best to keep his pants up. If someone came in they might be able to pretend to be working on something at the blackboard, their backs to the intruder, his hard cock sticking out yet out of sight from the door, safely hidden from view.

However, he had a moment of doubt, of a different sort. What if Miss Bixley didn't like his cock? What if she thought it was real small? It certainly wasn't large. He was himself a bit shorter than her. She had probably seen a lot of cocks a lot bigger than his. His fantasy was beginning to deflate, along with his penis.

Miss Bixley saw his hesitation and sensed his ambivalence. She was a very empathic teacher. "Is there something troubling you, son?" She sometimes referred to her boys, her young men, as sons. It was a way to express her wish for them to consider her as their mothers, someone who was there for them, who was understanding and caring.

There was no way that Ralph was going to admit to this insecurity, certainly not to Miss Bixley, his teacher. Of course, to whom do you admit such an insecurity, such a doubt. "No, ma'am" was all he said but now he was moving considerably more slowly, troubled even more by the fact that he could feel himself physically shrinking within his pants. He had heard of men losing their erections during sex. He figured it must be terribly, terribly embarrassing, but how much worse can it be to actually lose it before the woman even sees it!

"Here, son, let me help you," Miss Bixley offered.

"What?" Ralph exclaimed as the teacher moved his hands away from his slacks and took over the responsibility of extracting his dick.

Miss Bixley wasn't terribly experienced at this, although she had done it a few times. She struggled a bit to get her hand into Ralph's briefs. They were rather tight, the flap was not particularly large, and his penis appeared to be on the wrong side, at least relative to the side into which her hand naturally slid. She realized that it would have been much easier just to pull his pants down. Still, it was kind of fun to be fumbling around in the boy's briefs, searching for his erect penis. Her face flushed as she thought of Miss Harding seeing her now. She would be quite shocked, and certainly wouldn't consider her to be a goody-goody prude anymore!

It was rather awkward for Ralph, feeling his teacher fumble around in there like that. It would feel awkward to have anyone fumbling around in his pants. There was something just so intrusive about it. Still, this was the feminine hand of his teacher, of Miss Bixley, and what boy wouldn't enjoy a pretty teacher groping in his slacks and briefs for his big manly cock. He tried to pump up his sense of confidence and pride, hoping that the psychological boost would have a comparable physical boost.

Miss Bixley did eventually get her hand around it. It didn't seem particularly big, and it also felt a bit soft. Not entirely limp but certainly far from being fully erect. She knew what the boy needed. "Oh my goodness, Ralphie, you really have a big one, don't you!"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh my, yes. It's not even fully erect and already it just fills up my entire hand! I want to play with it. You wouldn't mind, would you?"

"Oh no, ma'am, no, not at all," and he quickly responded to her words, and hand, feeling so much better, psychologically and physically. His dick was once again swelling to full strength.

Miss Bixley used her left hand to bring Ralph's face over to her breast and then crush it into the soft, lacy cups as she gasped in her high pitched, Thelma Lou voice, "Oh my goodness, Ralphie, he's getting bigger and bigger! I just have to see this big, manly penis," and with some difficulty, even bending it a bit, she extracted his erection into the harsh light of the classroom.

Miss Bixley stepped back, letting his face momentarily escape her bosoms and said, in a more sultry voice as she gazed upon it, "Ralphie, you're so manly."

Ralph was disappointed to be released from the soft squishy pillows of Miss Bixley's boobs, but he never felt so proud, nor so excited. She was probably exaggerating. Teachers do have a way of doing that, extolling the virtues and talents of their students, but he did still feel pretty darned good. In fact, he never felt better about his cock than he did right now. He had many a time admired it in the reflection of a mirror. Yes, it might not be that large, but it did look awfully impressive to him, jutting out from his body, so stiff and hard, so stately, so magnificently and, as Miss Bixley had said, so manly. If a man can't be proud of his cock, what can he be proud of? It was even better than getting the highest grade in her class. He didn't say that though. He didn't know if she would like that. He just allowed himself to bask in the glory and majesty of his stiff dick.

Miss Bixley reached out and gently cradled Ralph's cock in her hand, admiring its stiffness, its length. She had seen and felt bigger, but she hadn't seen that many, and had only seen one in the last few years, that being Teddy's. It was so nice to finally have another one. A man's cock is really pretty nice to behold. Well, she shouldn't be the only one having the fun. She took her eyes away from Ralph's manhood to ask him, "Ralph, would you like to hold Miss Bixley's breasts?"

Ralph would have liked to cum right then, just shooting off onto Miss Bixley's skirt at the thought of reaching out and grasping hold of this pretty teacher's boobs. "Yea, sure," he softly replied and reached out to cup each one of her breasts within his hands.

"Mmmm," Miss Bixley softly sighed at the feel of the boy's hands on her bosoms, responding in turn by wrapping her fingers around his cock, giving him a little squeeze.

Ralph squeezed back, enjoying how full and soft her breasts felt, and how Miss Bixley's cleavage bulged up and out of her brassiere when he squashed them together with his hands. Boobs were so cool to play with. A pair of boobs would make such a great Christmas present. His mother though would certainly never get him a set of these.

Miss Bixley was thinking the same thing about Ralph's cock. Well, not exactly the same thing, but she did so much enjoy feeling a hard stiff one again in her hand, and this time it wasn't to pacify, to mollify, some guy on a date. It was to a help a young man grow and develop as a student, to help him realize his dream to someday become a professor. She used her other hand to once again pull Ralph's head, his face, against, into, the pillows of her bosoms, this time more gently, more softly, just letting his face rest against them as she felt and fondled his stiff dick. She whispered into his ear, "You just relax, now, Ralphie, and let Miss Bixley take care of him. He needs a teacher to take care of him."




Miss Bixley Lends a Hand



"Yes, ma'am," Ralph softly replied and sighed deeply as he felt the fingers of Miss Bixley tenderly and affectionately stroke his cock. He had only once before felt the fingers of a woman on his dick, and that was so long ago. Well, actually, just the previous year, but it had only been once. It was a night to remember, an experience he would never forget, but it seemed to now melt away in his distant memory as he basked in the present moment, the wonder, of being stroked by the lovely Miss Bixley.

He breathed in the scent of her perfume and felt against his cheek the softness of her lacy womanly pillows, rising up and down with her full, heavy breathing. He rubbed and cuddled his face in deeper. This was indeed so much more than he could have possibly hoped for, and he knew that it would not be long before his dick exploded.

"Ralphie," Miss Bixley said softly, stroking his hair with her left hand while she stroked his cock with the other.

"Yes, ma'am," he said into her breast.

"Would you like to play with Miss Bixley's vagina?" She couldn't get herself to say cunnie. It just seemed so very inappropriate from the mouth of an instructor.

He pulled his face away from her boobs to look into those pretty round chestnut eyes. They usually were twinkling with enthusiastic gaiety. They were now misty with lustful arousal. "Could I?"

It was an unusual step for Miss Bixley, with any man, let alone a young man, a student. But, perhaps because it was a student is what made it alright, made it more innocent and harmless. She was not letting some guy use her, take advantage of her. She was the one in control, in command. And, she was, after all, helping the young man get a better grade on his next test. She would have to admit, though, it was also taking care of her increasing frustration and unrequited arousal. At least she should no longer have those disturbing dreams and fantasies.

Miss Bixley momentarily released her hands from Ralph to again step back and reach down for the hem of her skirt and pull it up to her waist. It wasn't that easy to pull it up high enough, as it was rather tight and long, a bit past her knees. But, the sight of her wiggling her hips and bottom left and right as she worked the skirt up her thighs was itself rather fetching, particularly with her boobs already half exposed, boobs clearly wiggling inside her brassiere. It would be so nice, Ralph thought, if all teachers were as considerate and helpful as Miss Bixley. He would certainly vote for her as Teacher of the Year. Miss Nishida had won it this year, but Ralph could not imagine Miss Nishida being any more deserving than Miss Bixley (see "Miss Nishida motivates the boys").

His eyes opened with increasing urgency and lust as the lacy top of her thigh high nylons came into view, followed by a bit of entirely naked lily white thigh and then, as she hesitated for a moment, perhaps a moment of doubt, the very cusp of her womanly mound appeared, just a little round white lacy pouch was peeking out from beneath her blue business skirt, and then she went further to bring entirely into view her white feminine panties, a match to her brassiere. "Oh man, Miss Bixley," Ralph gasped, "those are really great!"

"Do you really like my panties, Ralphie?"

"Oh yea, ma'am, I really do, very much so."

She knew it was the compliment of a rabidly aroused undergraduate, but it did still sound so nice. No man had ever yet complimented her on her panties, as no man had yet ever seen them. She felt very pleased to show them first to a student, hopefully inspiring him to further complete his studies and someday become a professor himself.

Miss Bixley reached under her skirt with her right hand to slide her panties to the side so that he could see, and get to, her vagina, although she now realized that vagina really wasn't the best word for it, not anymore. "What do you call it, Ralph?"

Now, that was a really tough question. Not likely to be on the next test but nevertheless one with potentially far worse consequences. What do you say at a moment like this? What is the correct word for your teacher's thing? He really couldn't say vagina. He knew that was probably the correct word. It was the word she had used herself, but it was so clinical, so boring, so sexless. It was not at all complimentary. But, cunt was probably way too derogatory and disrespectful. Pussy wasn't bad, but that also seemed rather disrespectful, certainly not the correct way to be speaking to one's professor. Cunnie seemed too childish and infantile. Miss Bixley was much too old to have a cunnie, or at least he felt that way. But, now realizing her age he did have a thought. It's not that Miss Bixley was an old woman, or anything like that. He was himself probably half her age. He figured she was in her thirties. But, when he read the older pornography, perhaps the pornography of her generation; well, at least the pornography of the Victorian age, the true age of romance literature, he often came across another word, one that she would probably appreciate. "Quim," he said proudly. "I like to call it a quim."

Miss Bixley had to stifle a giggle. She would never imagine a college student using that word. It seemed a rather strange choice, but this wasn't the time to be judgmental or critical. "Quim, what a pretty, pretty name, Ralphie. Come here then, young man, and diddle Miss Bixley's quim." Her face again reddened at referring to his fingering as diddling. That had just inadvertently slipped out.

Ralph did step right up but he first paused to again just admire the sight of his teacher, her luscious lacy boobies thrusting out from her opened blouse, her skirt pulled up to her waist, her long shapely nylon clad legs all in view all the way up to her thighs and, best of all, her panties pulled aside so that he could ponder, admire, and feast on the sight of her womanly quim.

Miss Bixley did have a very wonderful quim. She had a bit of growth, but not so much that you couldn't see her feminine lips, which were really quite slim and dainty, not thick or fleshy. They were rather modest, perhaps even reserved, which did in fact befit her rather demure demeanor. Ralph was ecstatic. Her lips looked simply wonderful to him, so mysterious, so provocative, so inviting and, in fact, so moist. He could see her arousal glistening in the stark light of the classroom. Miss Bixley was actually sexually aroused, and aroused simply by the fact that he had been feeling her boobs and she had been stroking his cock. This was so, so cool. He really did wish he could tell his friends about this, but he knew he wouldn't. He wouldn't violate the trust of Miss Bixley. He stepped forward to place his fingers, for the first time, on the soft, wet lips of a woman's cunt; well, actually, her quim.

Miss Bixley gasped when she felt the boy's fingers touching her, down there. A little whimper of arousal escaped her lips and she rested one hand on the boy's shoulder as she brought the other back to his erection. "Yes," she whispered in Ralph's ear, "finger my quim, Ralph, finger Miss Bixley's warm, wet quim." Her face flushed with her use of such obscene language, as well as with the fiercely fervent excitement she was now feeling.

Now that he was there, however, Ralph didn't know exactly what to do. He had read enough pornography that he did know that he could and should do a lot of things, but he also knew that he had himself very little time left. With the feel of her hand stroking his cock, this tutoring session would soon be over. He quickly fingered within and around her wet moist lips, working his fingers, exploring, until he found the entrance to her hole.

It was really quite amazing: the wet, slick hole of Miss Bixley. What boy in the class would ever think that he would be poking around there? As he felt Miss Bixley again sliding her fingers, or actually her tightly clenched fist, up and down his shaft, he carefully, slowly skewered his index finger up inside her quim.

"Ralphie," she gasped into his ear. He was not at all adept at manually pleasing a girl, let alone a woman, but it wasn't like Miss Bixley had experienced any better suitors. And, besides, the fact that Ralph was so inexperienced, so unfamiliar, so fresh, added considerable spice and pleasure to the experience. "Slip your finger up inside. I so much like it when a man fingers me," she added, a bit dishonestly, given the absence of such experiences, but she didn't really want Ralphie to know that. It's not good for professors to let students know how inexperienced and ignorant they might in fact be.

She gasped with zealous lust as she felt the young man's finger screw its way up inside. "Yes, Ralphie," she gasped, "finger me, finger Miss Bixley. She wants it so bad."

Miss Bixley was surprising herself with how obscene her language was becoming. It was more bestial than romantic, not befitting her academic specialty, but was that not always the case within the romance novels, at least the dime store ones: the prim, proper, and priggish schoolmarm turning into the wanton, lustful woman of the street.

She wasn't actually an awful lot better at jerking off a man than Ralph was fingering a woman, but she did have a bit more experience than him. It was at times necessary to get a date off quickly with her hand before he tried to do more with her, before he tried to get under her skirt. This time, though, she was using her hand with more endearment, sincerity, and affection, as she gripped the young man's taut stiff cock tightly, sliding her soft feminine fingers up and down the shaft, at times pausing at the tip, briefly, to slip and slide her thumb and the tips of her fingers along and around the soft, curved, round, slick crown.

"Miss Bixley," Ralph gasped, surprised in part by the teacher's words, the ferocity of her fist, as well as being confused and lost within his own passion, his own salacity. He buried his face in one of Miss Bixley's soft round boobs and began to thrust his hips, fucking her fist with his dick as he skewered his finger up into her hole. He wanted to cum so, so bad, and he was only just seconds away.

His finger within her was such a fucking tight fit. His cock was not at all large but he could not imagine getting it up inside this slippery yet snug, cramped, clenching hot sluice cunt, but he did his best to fuck her hole, screwing his finger around and around as he slid it out and jammed it up inside, as her equally firmly clasped fist worked comparably hard on his cock, sliding up and down its length like she was trying to make fire through the friction of flesh.

If anyone walked in at this point the two of them would be surely caught. They wouldn't even notice the arrival of a whole class of new students as they were both lost in their lustful giving and receiving, Miss Bixley now lewdly humping on Ralph's finger as he pounded and fucked her tightly gripping fist. It would not be good for them to be caught as they were indeed a very, very obscene sight to behold.

Miss Bixley knew that she was acting terribly profane, humping the boy's finger like a dime novel whore, but dignity was being discarded for prurient animal satisfaction. "Finger me like a fucking slut, Ralphie," she gasped, her body suddenly twitching and shivering, engulfed by her climax, her legs trembling, her head dizzy and faint.

And with that foul entreatment Ralph as well felt that sense of inevitable explosion. "Miss Bixley," he warned, sort of, and felt his knees go weak as his dick twitched in her hand and a big wad of globby cum surged through his cock and spewed out the tip like a momentarily stuck paint ball, splatting against Miss Bixley's skirt with comparable force and damage.

Miss Bixley, though, did not seem to mind. She didn't even try to shift out of the way. She simply received the young man's seed. In fact, she gripped him more tightly against her, pulling his cock closer as it continued to gush and spray his stuff. "Yes, Ralphie, such a good boy, so much spunk, so nice, so nice," she whimpered as her own body was wracked by her climax, her own fluids now seeping, perhaps even squirting from her quim, wetting his fingers, his hand, with the sticky juice of her feminine fruit, although much of it as well sliding down her thighs and onto her nylons.

Miss Bixley had been a bit troubled about leaving all of Theodore's wet cum on the gym floor. The janitors are not really your indentured servants, devoted to cleaning up whatever mess you might make, whatever fluids you might release onto the floor. She was always amazed, and disappointed, when she noticed students, even faculty, spilling a drink onto the floor of a college hallway and then just leaving it there, leaving it for a janitor to eventually clean. Would they do this at home? Would they leave their spills for their mother, for their servants, to clean? It just seemed so irresponsible, so disrespectful, and so she pulled Ralph's penis, his cock, to her body, to her thighs, panties, and skirt, to spray on her his viscous, gloppy masculine gism. And, frankly, she didn't really mind. It seemed to be such a befitting ending to accept the squirts and sprays of this boy onto her clothes and body.

Nor did Ralph at all mind. In fact, it added to his pleasure to realize, to appreciate, that not only had Miss Bixley jerked him off, but she had done so onto her, that he was gushing and spewing globs and ropes of cum onto his teacher's clothes, her body, her creamy thighs, her lacy panties, and even her exposed cunt. He had never had a better orgasm in his life, and wondered if he ever would again.

When it was done, when Ralph's cock was done, Miss Bixley stepped back to consider the damage. She was indeed quite a mess. Her skirt was not that badly splattered as it had been bunched up at her waist. Much of Ralph's cum was on her thighs, nylons, and panties, which did now feel, and look, rather shameless, all decorated with globs, drops, and ropes of cum. Miss Bixley, feeling a little embarrassed, pulled her skirt back down, hiding the evidence of Ralph's sticky sloppy spunk.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Miss Bixley did not go back to her office. She went straight to her car, doing her best to avoid bumping into anyone she knew. Fortunately, the parking structure was near the classroom building in which she had held her tutoring session.

However, once home, she did not immediately wash her skirt, nylons, and panties. On the contrary, she held the panties up to her nose, where Ralph had squirted a big glob of cum, and she enjoyed for some time the fresh, fruity scent of the boy's cream.

Nor did she harbor any regrets over what she had done. In fact, it was apparent that it was the right thing to do, for Ralph in fact obtained the highest score on the next test.

When he got the grade it affirmed for Ralph that he had indeed been more proud of displaying his hard cock to Miss Bixley than getting an A. But, most importantly, his mind was no longer distracted by unresolved frustrations. It was instead filled by a wonderfully pleasant memory, and a secret they shared.

Whenever Miss Bixley bent over him to evaluate his work during class, pressing a breast into his shoulder, his back, the gesture now had a little extra meaning, and when she reached down to point out something in a text he was reading, her hand might go even farther, past the top of his desk and into his lap, to give him a little squeeze of encouragement.

Miss Bixley was proud of Ralph's significant improvement in class, and felt very good for his chances in the future, and for herself. It was so wonderful to discover, to realize, new ways to reach today's youth, new ways to inspire them, to help them grow as young adults, as young men.

Plus, she had to admit, it had been rather fun. Actually, it had been lots of fun. Perhaps it might not have been for a woman with considerably more experience or opportunities. But, Miss Bixley was neither of those. She was devoted to her pedagogical career, to fostering, enlightening, and cultivating the young men of Templeton, and she had discovered especial fulfillment, and satisfication, in her tutoring session with Ralph. Smoldering embers had been sparked within Miss Bixley, particularly within her panties, and she now needed more wood to stoke the fire.

Henry Limpet was having difficulty as well. Henry was a freshman, eighteen years old, and had started the semester off with an A on both of her first two tests. But, just as Ralph got the highest grade on the third test, so did Henry get only a C. As one boy improved his grades, another fell. A teacher's job was apparently never done.

She asked to speak to Henry after class.

"Henry, goodness, what happened? You got a strong A on the first two tests but slipped to a C on the third. What's the problem, dear?"

"I know, I know," he acknowledged. "It won't happen again. It was just a bad week."

"Oh my goodness, nothing serious I hope." Miss Bixley was genuinely concerned. She asked, "Nothing about your family, or anything."

"No, no, Miss Bixley. It was personal, just a tough week."

"Well my goodness, what? Please, perhaps I can help."

"Not with this, Miss Bixley. I shouldn't have let it bother me."

Miss Bixley knew how to draw out a student. No young man could resist that cute, adorable, sweet face. It almost looked like you might hurt her feelings if you didn't tell her your problems. Henry broke down and confessed.

"I just got dumped by Sally, that's all."

Miss Bixley laid her hand on the boy's shoulder and said, most sincerely and sympathetically, "Henry, I'm so sorry. Really, I am."

"It's not your fault, Miss Bixley." That was a bit of an understatement, but it did seem like the natural thing to say. "I'll get over it. I just had so much difficulty studying for the test. I kept thinking about her and how much I missed her."

Many a time Miss Bixley had heard an excuse from a student. It was either that or there was an ill relative, a loud party next door, a roommate who got arrested, or the notes got lost due to a most amazing accident. One time a student explained that he had just forgotten to study. Miss Bixley was typically quite sympathetic (well, except for that last excuse). The students might not in fact be lying and, even if they were, it just broke her heart to see them so upset. She would do most anything to help them, and now she could. "Henry, you come to my office Wednesday night, 7:30, and we can discuss this."

"What?"

"I will help you so that you will get an A on your next test and, if you do, we can just wave off that silly C."

Waving off the poor grade on his most recent test was a pretty good deal. "You want me to come over in the evening?" Wednesday was a great television night. He really didn't want to miss American Idol.

"I have a lot of meetings on Wednesday, Henry, and I'm pretty booked up until then." She didn't actually have anything after 5:00. Seven-thirty was in fact well beyond office hours, but it was a time during which they would have more privacy. Miss Edwards would not be in her office next door. Miss Bixley leaned in closer to Henry and said, quietly, "I think you'll find it to be a very productive session, Henry."

A student really can't turn down the offer of assistance by a professor, even if it is in the evening and interferes with television. "Well, if you think it would help, Miss Bixley."

"I'm sure it will, Henry. I'm sure it will. It will be very satisfying."

"Well, okay then. I'll come to your office at 7:30."

"Excellent, Henry!" Miss Bixley went home at 5:00 to get ready, and when she returned she was not dressed so modestly. Well, actually, it wasn't like she was wearing a teddy, a plunging evening gown, or anything like that. She was still wearing a business suit, but this time the skirt was shorter, much shorter, especially for her. It was well above her knees, rather than well past her knees.




Miss Bixley Lends a Hand



It was a skirt Miss Bixley had never worn before. She had not intended on ordering it. Either she had clicked the wrong one on the website or they had sent her the wrong one. She didn't send it back. She never sent things back that she mistakenly ordered or were mistakenly delivered. She felt that if it was her mistake she should suffer the consequences, and in the absence of knowing if it was her mistake she felt she should assume that it was her responsibility. Plus, perhaps someday she would in fact change her mind and find some use or value in the mistaken order, or at least give it to charity. Well, apparently a useful day had finally arrived for this skirt.

Miss Bixley's blouse was also rather provocative, as it was quite diaphanous. If it wasn't for her jacket a person would easily be able to see her brassiere through the very sheer material. Of course, the presence of the jacket did negate to a large extent the effect of the blouse. But, one could still see the top of the sheer blouse, with a bit of lacy trim, as the jacket was not fully buttoned to the neck. So, it would be quite evident to an observer that if the jacket was removed, or even just opened, Miss Bixley would be rather exposed. And, even if that didn't happen, she was indicating that beneath that conservative jacket was a woman who wore very sexy blouses, along with her very short skirt.

Henry knocked timidly when he arrived and Miss Bixley strode to the door to open it and greet him.

She was wearing heels that made little clicking clacking sounds as she strode across the hardwood floor of her office. She rarely wore heels, but she did this evening as she knew that they made her calves, her legs, and her bottom, more shapely.

Henry was instantly hit by the very pleasant albeit strong scent of Miss Bixley's perfume. "Um, Miss Bixley?" He was kind of overtaken by the intoxicating force of the scent. Fresh perfume in an enclosed office has nowhere to go. It was a very wonderful scent, really quite pleasing and delicious, but at the moment it was just so overwhelmingly powerful.

"Well, yes, yes, Henry, please, please, come in, have a seat," she instructed, as she took a seat on her couch and patted a spot next to her for him.

Henry noticed how Miss Bixley's skirt rose up rather high on her thighs when she sat down.

Miss Bixley noticed as well and quickly pulled on the hem to try to keep her thighs concealed. She cursed herself for not having practiced sitting down with the skirt, but it was also a matter of where she was sitting. The couch was rather deep. She had noticed many times how girls would find the couch rather discomforting when it came to short skirts. It was perhaps a lesson for them to learn, but she typically advised that they sit in the less comfortable but more befitting guest chair beside her desk.

Henry took a seat on the couch, albeit some distance away. Perhaps it was the late hour, the empty building, the perfume, the sheer blouse beneath her jacket, perhaps it was how the professor's skirt slid up her thighs as she sat down, but he felt a bit uncomfortable about this appointment. Miss Bixley was a rather pretty professor and he didn't want to seem forward or inappropriate. Everyone knew that Miss Bixley was a prim and proper woman, and he had no interest in giving her the wrong impression. Imagine having a professor accuse you of being suggestive, forward, or frankly trying to seduce her. That would not be good, not at all. Yet, frankly, he would have to be numb not to sense something in the air, in addition to Miss Bixley's perfume.

Miss Bixley was disappointed at how far away Henry was sitting. She thought the message she was conveying was quite clear. "Henry," she encouraged, again patting the empty spot next to her, "why sit so far away? How are we to get to know each other if you sit so far away?"

Henry wasn't aware that he was going to get to know Miss Bixley. "Oh, I'm fine, it's fine." Miss Bixley was certainly acting kind of strange. He thought he noticed colorfully flowered lace peeking out from where her jacket opened out a bit. He could feel his penis stirring in his slacks. That was itself a good reason to keep some distance between them. He even hugged the arm of the couch.

Miss Bixley sighed. She wondered if perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all, or at least not an idea that was reasonable or likely. Perhaps though the boy was just a bit shy? Certainly if she was in his shoes she would be rather intimidated. "How long had you and Sally been dating?"

"About half a year," Henry replied.

Miss Bixley wondered if that was a long time or a short time, at least from his perspective. It would be a long time for her. She never dated for very long. "Goodness, it must be difficult then, to have it end."

"Yes, Miss Bixley," he softly replied. He was beginning to wonder how this session was going to be especially productive, or even helpful, as Miss Bixley had suggested. She hadn't even brought up the subject of romance literature.

"How long has it been, um, since it, well...it ended?"

"Three weeks."

"Goodness, that long?"

"Yea." 'Is she trying to be a counselor or something?' he wondered. If so, she wasn't doing an especially good job.

"Three weeks without a girl, that must be difficult. Do you still think about her a lot?"

"Yea, actually, I do."

"And that's what made it difficult for you to study for the test?"

"Yes, ma'am. I am sorry about that. I'll do better on the next one, I promise."

"Do you think about her a lot...well, you know." She said much more softly. "In that way?"

Henry's eyes widened. In that way? What did she mean by that? In what way?

"Were you two, well...intimate?"

Whoa! Now he understood. Miss Bixley was asking about their sex life? How is that any of her business? Frankly, he had never told anyone about their sex life, not even his best friends, and he certainly wasn't going to tell a professor, even one as pretty as Miss Bixley. But, still, she had said that if he attended this session she would wave off the C grade. Frankly, he would probably tell her his masturbation fantasies if she would wave off that grade. But, as soon as he thought that he realized that perhaps he really shouldn't tell her about that. Hopefully she wouldn't go that far. "Yea, we were," he replied, averting his eyes as he did so.

"It's always more difficult to break-up after you've been intimate," she said. Frankly, she had no idea if that was really true, but it sounded like it might be.

"Yea, yea, I guess it is."

"Do you wish you were still intimate, with her?"

"Well, yea, sure, I guess."

"You know, if you were intimate with someone else, it would help you forget, help you not to miss her so much."

His friends had suggested that he go out clubbing but that wasn't easy for him. He was too young to go to a bar and, besides, it just wasn't in his nature to do stuff like that. Frankly, he seriously doubted that he would be successful anyway. "Yea, I guess it would," he acknowledged, without much enthusiasm.

This wasn't going so well. Miss Bixley had hoped by this time he would be asking to have sex with her, just like Ralph had done. She had never been the aggressor within a relationship. She had never been the one to try to initiate a sexual encounter. It was a lot more difficult than she had anticipated.

She got up from the couch, holding down the hem of her skirt as she did so, but then realizing that doing so was precisely the wrong thing to do if she wanted to entice the boy into making an advice upon her. "Yes," she said, as she strolled across the hardwood floor to her desk, her heels clicking and clacking along the floor, her fingers unbuttoning her jacket as she did so. "I know it was very difficult for me, when I broke up with, um...Jack." There was not in fact any Jack in her past. "It was at times so, well, frustrating." With her back to the young man she pulled off her jacket and carefully laid it across the back of her desk chair.

Henry could understand why Miss Bixley would want to remove her jacket. It did seem rather warm in her office. But, he also noticed that he could now very plainly see the straps of Miss Bixley's brassiere through her blouse. He wondered if she knew that they were so clearly evident. His dick swelled. He figured the front of her blouse must be different. He had noticed blouses like that before, where they were sheer in some locations but not in the most important locations. He hoped this session would end soon. He was really beginning to feel quite uncomfortable.

Miss Bixley took a deep breath and turned around to face the boy. "I know that boys have feelings, Henry, that just, well...are difficult to go unsatisfied."

Henry's eyes almost doubled in size. The front of the blouse was just like the back, although very different in that in the front he could now very plainly see the cups of Miss Bixley's brassiere. And, it wasn't like she was wearing some old plain white boring brassiere. It was white, but it was all decorated with little colorful flowers with the top half of each cup just lace. And, if that was not enough, it was a push-up, plunging brassiere. Her breasts were standing up like dessert cakes at a bakery. Sally had never worn any brassiere as attractive as Miss Bixley's, although he really shouldn't hold that against her. Miss Bixley obviously could afford much finer niceties than Sally. Henry crossed his legs to hide a now very obvious reaction to Miss Bixley's state of apparent undress, and he then realized that he was no longer paying attention to or even listening to what she was saying.

"Well, has it been difficult for you?" Miss Bixley asked.

Not actually realizing she was talking about sex, he said, "Yes, really very difficult." He thought she was again talking about just missing Sally.

She smiled sweetly at him. "Yes, I imagine it has."

He couldn't really understand why missing Sally would warrant her smiling at him. He vowed to pay closer attention to what she saying rather than what she was wearing, or wasn't wearing, but it was really very, very difficult to take his eyes off those breasts. No professor had ever looked more attractive. Of course, no professor had ever let him feast his eyes on her brassiere before.

"I think I know of a book that might help."

A book? Well, yeah, maybe she has some sort of self-help book for relationship break-ups. Henry took a deep breath. He was reminded of when his mother gave him a book on the birds and the bees. That hadn't been very helpful. This is one weird counseling session. But, his mother hadn't been dressed so revealingly. He could suffer pointless advice and vague platitudes if they were dressed in such an alluring manner.

Miss Bixley turned away from Henry, took another deep breath herself, and bent over, keeping her legs as straight as possible, bending over as far as possible.

Miss Bixley had pretty nice legs, and an even better bottom. At least she felt that way, although she had no confirmation of that by of any the few men she had dated. Her best feature was really her face, which was undeniably cute, but apparently that had not done the trick with this boy.

This she had never done before. She would never be this provocative, this wanton, with a man, but she felt so much more comfortable doing so with a student, a young man. She was the one in control. She knew that Henry would not suddenly attack her, force himself upon her, or at least try to place her in a position in a way that she would find objectionable. She just wanted him to get the message. She presented her bottom to the young man like a doe would to a buck.

Henry's eyes lit up like a deer caught in the headlights. He gawked at the pointed heels, the sharp ankles, the lovely curved calves and soft white thighs of Miss Bixley, the muscles tightening as she bent over. And then the display, the presentation, dramatically improved as her already short skirt rose up her thighs, revealing to his ogling eyes the tops of her nylons, garter belts, and then a matching set of tight, white bikini panties, again all covered in colorful little flowers, trimmed with lace and, most importantly, the little flowery cup that was Miss Bixley's cunnie. Henry uncrossed his legs, reached into his lap and adjusted his cock. He wondered how he was going to possibly hide his erection. He rested his books in his lap.

"I can't seem to find it," Miss Bixley said as she searched around for something on the bottom shelf.

As she did so her dress rose up even higher, revealing much of her bottom, which was now so fully rounded by her posture, her pose. It looked like a valentine heart, and a very colorful and sexy one at that. Henry didn't understand what was happening here. Shouldn't this teacher know how much of her panties, her bottom, she was revealing to him? Should he tell her? Shouldn't he respectfully look away? But, he couldn't. Well, he could, but he certainly wouldn't. The one thing he did know for certain was that he would be jerking off tonight to the fantasy of someone other than Sally. That would be a nice change.

Miss Bixley, keeping her legs reasonably straight, her pretty round pantied bottom up, exposed, and presented, she turned her head back, looked at Henry and asked, "Is everything okay, Henry?"

Henry tore his eyes away from Miss Bixley's bottom, not only to respect her privacy, her modesty, but also to avoid being caught in such an indiscrete violation of her propriety. He forced his eyes to look directly at hers, at her face smiling so innocently back at him. Miss Bixley had a face that always looked so modest and sweet, even when she is showing you her panties, bottom, thighs, garter, and pussy. "Yes, Miss Bixley," he replied, "Everything is fine," although it was all so terribly, terribly far from fine.

She asked, inquisitively raising her eyebrows and biting demurely on the tip of her index finger, "Is there anything you might want?" She shifted a hip, making it quite difficult for Henry to ignore that brightly colored and delectably presented derriere. 

Yes, there was something indeed he would like from her. He would like her to reach back and pull down her panties. But, clearly that was something one should not ask of a teacher, and especially not the sweet and modest Miss Bixley. "Um, no, no, Miss Bixley." He began to wonder if he was just dreaming, if he should pinch himself to wake up, but if it was a dream he most certainly did not want to wake up.

Henry was having a very hard time believing that Miss Bixley didn't appreciate how much of her thighs, bottom, and cunnie she was showing to him. She always came across as such a guileless and wholesome teacher that one really couldn't imagine her ever doing such a thing, at least not on purpose. Perhaps Miss Harding would do something like this, but even that was hard to imagine, at least for Henry, and impossible to imagine from Miss Bixley, which made his dick strain even harder within his pants.

Miss Bixley really had a hard time believing that Henry wasn't noticing how much her thighs and bottom she was showing to him. She couldn't really see for sure how much she was showing, but she could feel that her skirt had risen up pretty high. He must be seeing quite a bit. Why doesn't he react? Why doesn't he try something?

Well, perhaps she should better appreciate that he is a young man, and that she is his mentor, his teacher. Not all boys can be expected to be as assertive with women as Ralph. She would have to be a bit more forward herself.

She reached back with her hands, as if she was going to grasp hold of her panties to pull them down. But, instead, she simply grasped her bottom cheeks, and looked back at Henry with a shocked and dismayed expression. "Oh my goodness, Henry, my skirt has come up, hasn't it!"

Henry quickly replied, "What? Has it? No, no, I don't think so." Isn't that what you should tell a teacher who accidently exposes a thigh, a panty, or breast? You should deny that you actually noticed anything. Pretend like nothing had happened. Of course, that's rather difficult when she isn't even doing anything to correct the exposure, and is even calling attention to her indelicate presentation by grasping her bottom with her hands.

"Are you sure, Henry? I've never worn this skirt to work before." A statement that was quite true. "I'm afraid it might be too short. Am I exposing too much when I bend over like this?" She withdrew her hands and wiggled her bottom back and forth, so that he would know precisely where, or what, she wanted him to evaluate.

"Um, well." Could he really pretend that he doesn't see anything? Goodness, if he isn't honest about it she is liable to bend over in front of a class and then how embarrassing would that be! Of course, though, rather entertaining for the students. But, still, this was Miss Bixley, and Henry would never want her to be so embarrassed and humiliated. "Maybe just a little, Miss Bixley."

"Oh my goodness!" she exclaimed, turning her face away from him and covering it with her hands, yet still not covering that which was apparently so immodestly exposed. "This is so embarrassing!"

"It's okay, Miss Bixley. It's not so bad." Actually, it was real, real good, depending upon your perspective.

"What exactly can you see, Henry? Please, tell me, I need to know." She was getting a little tired remaining so far bent over, and so she did rest her hands on her knees, but she didn't diminish the provocative nature of the pose, as she in fact thrust her bottom out a bit, causing the skirt to slip up even higher.

Henry felt that if she didn't want to embarrass herself she really shouldn't stick her butt out like that, but he wasn't about to tell her that. And, frankly, he didn't really want to tell her all that he could see. "Um, well..." He decided it was best to be as honest about it as he could be. "Actually, Miss Bixley, I can see, um...quite a bit." By saying that she would most certainly stand up, pull her skirt back down, and not ask him to discuss it further. Of course, he really didn't want her to pull her skirt down, but he also didn't want to have to tell her what he could see.

"Can you see the top of my nylons?"

'Geeez,' Henry thought, 'she seems to be a glutton for humiliation.' "Yes, ma'am," he softly acknowledged. With her hands covering her eyes he was now again free to reach into his lap, and he squeezed the shaft and plum of his cock through his slacks.

"Oh my goodness, that's so shameful. Can you see my garter belt?"

"Yes, Miss Bixley," he replied, his voice a bit breathy, his hand playing with his cock.

"Goodness, gracious. And, not my panties. My panties too?"

If she kept this up, or at least if he kept playing with his cock as he ogled Miss Bixley's panties, bottom, and cunnie, while she kept talking about it, he would surely cum in his pants, and there didn't appear to be any way he could explain that away. "Yes, Miss Bixley, and your, your..." He added very quietly, "panties."

"Oh my gracious," she said, removing her hands from her face to reach back and feel around on her bottom, all the while describing the location of her fingers as they explored how much was being exposed. "Oh yes, yes, goodness, you can see my bottom cheeks here, and my flowered panties there, and goodness even up along the crack of my bottom as far up as.... here." Her fingers were going up and down the crack of her bottom. "And even down here," she said, her fingers sliding back down and resting on and lightly caressing, her cunnie pouch, turning her head back to look Henry in the eyes as his eyes were glued to the sight of Miss Bixley caressing her own cunny. "You can even see my womanly feminine mound, can't you Henry."

Henry's eyes were glued, transfixed by the sight of Miss Bixley openly caressing her cunt through her panties. She was playing with herself as he was playing with himself, and then he realized that she could now easily see him doing that, looking straight back at him. "Uh, yeah," he gasped, quickly withdrawing his fingers, crossing his legs and squeezing them as tight as he could, as if somehow that hid what was already seen, and noticed.




Miss Bixley Lends a Hand



Miss Bixley smiled. It hadn't been easy, but she had finally gotten to the young man. She slowly stood back up straight, pulled her skirt back down, and turned to face him, an understanding smile on her face. "I made you a little excited, didn't I, Henry."

"Um, no, no, ma'am. No, really, it's fine. You didn't do anything."

"Now, Henry. Don't lie to your teacher. That could get you into a lot of trouble." Actually, what she was doing could get her into a lot of trouble. She strode across the office and sat down right next to him, thigh touching thigh. She reached around his shoulder and pulled him against her, against her breast.

He averted his eyes from her blouse, her exposed breasts, one of which was now pressing so wonderfully against him.

"Henry, if you got a boner that would have been all my fault, not yours. Now, let Miss Bixley see what happened," she said reassuringly as she reached over with her left hand to uncross his legs.

"Oh, Miss Bixley," Henry exclaimed, feeling so terribly embarrassed and ashamed. He had never revealed an erection to a teacher before, never would imagine doing so, and would certainly never imagine doing so to Miss Bixley. Goodness, that was something Barnie Fife would never have done to Thelma Lou. Imagine if he had?! It was just unthinkable, unspeakable.

"Oh my goodness," exclaimed Miss Bixley when it came into view. "You got really stiff and hard, didn't you Henry."

"I guess, ma'am," he reluctantly agreed. He covered himself with his hands. She got to see it, as she requested. She now knows the truth. She doesn't need to be further embarrassed by his shameless behavior, nor does he. He should now apologize and extricate himself before he got into further trouble.

But, Miss Bixley said, "Oh no, Henry, move your hands away. Let Miss Bixley see how stiff and hard you are."

He wasn't so sure that he would wait until he got home to masturbate. He might even do it in one of the bathroom stalls. Actually, now that he thought about it, his roommate would likely be there when he got back, so he would definitely need to do it in a bathroom stall. He pulled his hands away to let her again see his shameful erection.

Miss Bixley reached out with her left hand and lightly traced the tips of her fingers around and around the round bulb formed by the head of his dick pressing so hard against the front of his slacks. "Henry, you shouldn't be embarrassed. This was really all my fault and I should probably take care of him. Goodness, we can't have you walking around campus with such a big hard stiff willy, can we?"

Henry really didn't know what to say. It all seemed so surreal. He certainly didn't want to say anything that might break this spell, or wake himself up if it was in fact a dream. He slowly shook his head.

"No, no, that would just not do, not do at all," she said absentmindedly, as she gazed upon the hard round bulb thrusting out his slacks, softly caressing the knob. She turned her face to look him in the eyes and removed her fingers from his cock to lightly touch his chin, turning his face to look at her, into her large chestnut eyes. "And, besides, won't this help you to get over her," she asked, as she returned her fingers to his knob, "so that you can concentrate on your studies."

He really wasn't sure that this would help him concentrate on his studies, but it would certainly go far in forgetting about what's-her-name. Actually, for a moment there he really couldn't recall her name. He did quickly recall that it was Sally, but once recalling her he didn't feel the sharp pain of her absence. There was something about a reassuring hand on your cock that heals many wounds. And, besides, he knew darned well that if Miss Bixley meant what he thought she meant, he would study for her next test harder than he had ever studied for a test before, and that was saying quite a lot."Yes, Miss Bixley," he agreed, with quite strong and sincere conviction.

Miss Bixley smiled, "Oh, that makes me feel so much better."

She shifted away from him but only to get up off the couch to stand in front of him, so that she could undress for the young man.

She smiled down at him as she slowly unbuttoned her blouse. "Henry?"

"Yes, Miss Bixley?"

"Why don't you take your penis out and show it to Miss Bixley as she undresses for you."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied. This really had to be a dream but he knew it wasn't. He just hoped that he wouldn't ejaculate before she got her clothes off. He would just have to be careful not to touch it once it was out. It wouldn't cum with nobody touching it, would it? It certainly hadn't before. He undid his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his slacks, and reached into his boxers to extract his hard dick, which sprung into the brightly lighted and heavily perfumed office like a starved snake.

"Oh my, yes, yes, he is a very handsome one, isn't he," Miss Bixley purred, getting to her final button. Once it was undone she pulled the tails of the blouse from her skirt and her arms from its sleeves, and then let it fall to the floor. She stood before him wearing only her skirt, heels, and brassiere, and it was such a lovely, sexy brassiere. He wasn't actually seeing much more than he had already seen, the blouse had been so transparent, but the fact that the blouse was no longer there, the fact that the sweet, seemingly innocent Miss Bixley had removed her blouse, was a qualitatively powerful increase in provocative allure. And, a brassiere is such a very wonderful way to present a woman's breasts. The shape is perfect: so round; and the femininity so powerfully evident: the seductive enticement of the flowered cotton and lace. He so much wanted to grab hold of his cock.

Henry had never wanted to touch, to hold, to kiss something more than he did at that moment. He instinctively moved his hand toward his cock but then he stopped, recalling his vow to control himself for as long as possible.

As Miss Bixley reached to the left side of her skirt, to unzip it, she said, "You can touch it, Henry, if you want. I won't mind."

"No, no, that's alright ma'am." He felt a little silly though, sitting there with his stiff dick poking out of his boxers and slacks.

"But, I want you to, Henry," she explained, as she slowly slid the zipper down, the room filling with the provocative metallic noise of a zipper slowly lowering, clothes becoming undone.

"Yes, Miss Bixley," he softly replied, grasping hold of his cock with his right hand, moaning in pleasure at the feel of his touch.

"There's something so wonderful, so pleasing, in seeing a man handle himself while you undress for him." Miss Bixley was very impressed with herself. She had never been this seductive with a man her age. It was so much easier to be this way with someone so much younger than her, with someone over whom she had authority, and control. "Stroke it, Henry," she softly instructed, "It makes me feel pretty."

What boy would deny Miss Bixley's interest in feeling prettier. If jerking off his cock would help with that, he would certainly very gladly do it. He slowly stroked his cock for his teacher.

"That's better, Henry. That's so much better," she said, as she let her skirt fall to the floor with her blouse, standing now before him in just her undies, nylons, garter belt, and heels.

Miss Bixley was a very petite woman, but she did have a very wonderful hourglass figure, with a very narrow waist and quite womanly curved hips. Plus, her flowery bikini panties clung to her curves as if their only purpose was to highlight and accent every sexy inch of her. The clinging was particularly tight and snug where Henry's eyes were most closely focused: her cunt. And, evident there was a most clearly outlined camel toe. Henry was actually seeing, staring at, ogling, Miss Bixley's camel toe, all of which was fringed and framed by her sexy thigh high nylons and garter belt, providing such a wonderfully provocative accouterment to her quite alluring ensemble. "Do you think I'm pretty, Henry?"

"Oh yes, Miss Bixley. Everybody says so."

Miss Bixley, without removing her heels, got down on her knees before the young man, spread open his legs, and inched her way in between his knees, his thighs. "Really Henry? They say that?"

"Oh yes, you're like the fantasy of every guy in the Andy Griffith Club."

Miss Bixley, of course, knew about that. She was well familiar with her striking resemblance to Thelma Lou, and at times even wore her auburn hair in a very similar short, wavy cut. Jesse, in her class, became particularly agitated whenever she did that. She had recognized her resemblance ever since she was young. She at times wondered if she was who she was now in part because of whom she appeared to be: the sweet, innocent looking girl from a small country town. But, she said, "Would Thelma Lou do this?" She bent over to take the boy's hard stiff cock into her mouth.

"Miss Bixley," he gasped, so thankful that he was able to last up until this point, up until the point that he felt the warm, wet mouth of the pretty Miss Bixley absorb his cock. He gasped again as he felt her soft, wet tongue make contact. No, he didn't think Thelma Lou would ever do this, would she?

Miss Bixley had never done this for a man before. She knew that someday she would do it, for her husband. But, it didn't seem dirty or slutty to do it now, for this innocent, pained, young man. After all, it was to help him get over his troubles, to better apply himself to his studies. She was doing this as his teacher not as his lover, which was perhaps really quite true, at least she didn't think of herself as his lover.

And, besides, she realized she kind of liked it. No, she really did like it. She liked the feel of the hard cock of a young man in her mouth, nurturing and nursing his hard masculine strength with her womanly lips and tongue, feeling and exploring his stiffness, and his softness, cleaning his bulb and shaft with her tongue, loving him like a mother cat would for her young.

"Miss Bixley," Henry groaned. He felt such an urge to grasp hold of his teacher's head with his hands, to pull her face roughly into his crotch and drive his hard dick farther into her mouth, down into her throat, perhaps even fuck her face like he so much now wanted to fuck her cunt. But, that would be really much too disrespectful and he instead just used his hands to grip tightly onto his knees while he gave himself over to the delicious sucking and slurping of Miss Bixley's mouth, lips, and tongue on his swollen, yearning dick.

"Mmmmmmmm," Miss Bixley moaned, enjoying so much the feel and taste of a cock in her mouth. She wondered what it would be like to have it between her legs, between her thighs, inside her cunnie. She grasped hold of the shaft with her right hand and began to stroke it up and down as she suckled on the head like a desperately hungry baby on her mother's giant teat.

"Oh geeeeeez," groaned Henry, bending forward in excruciatingly, deliriously maddening ecstacy.

Miss Bixley suddenly released his cock from her mouth, but only to exclaim, with a string of spittle still connecting her lips to his dick, "I want to taste you, Henry." Her sweet chestnut eyes plaintively pleading, "I want to drink and swallow it," and then she plunged her face, her mouth, back down onto his cock, squeezing and jerking the shaft at the same time.

Taking a man's cum in her mouth was again something she had not yet done, but at the moment she felt so desperately the need to taste, to drink, to swallow a man's seed. Only days ago she had not imagined ever doing such a thing, or at least had only done such things in her dreams, her disturbing dreams. But, now, as a teacher, she could do it, and she so much wanted to.

She didn't have to wait long. Once her lips made contact again Henry exploded into her mouth, "Miss Bixley," he gasped as he felt his head, his mind, become faint, his entire body absorbed by a primal rush of base pleasure, his dick twitching and squirting into Miss Bixley's mouth.

"Mmmmmm," she groaned as she felt his cock jerking and spitting its gism onto her tongue, against her cheeks, spewing its load in all corners and crevices of her mouth, his globs and wads of cum rapidly filling up her mouth, stuffing her cheeks, squeezing under gums, oozing from her lips.

She shifted her tongue out of the way to make room deeper into the back of her mouth, receiving next a few direct blasts deep inside, his hose gushing a torrent of gism against her throat, but then instantly finding that too difficult to handle, feeling the urge to gag and cough as more and more jerked and spit inside. Her mouth quickly filled, the corners of her cheeks, beneath her tongue, the roof of her tongue thoroughly globbed over. But she didn't mind. It just felt so nice, and tasted so much better than she would have ever imagined.

When he was done she carefully pulled her mouth away, keeping her lips firmly closed so as to not spill any drops onto his slacks. It was perhaps a bit too late, as some of it had already squeezed out from between her lips when she was receiving the gushing blasts of cream. She looked up into Henry's eyes, her own chestnut eyes a bit misty with excitement, with arousal, as well as with her effort to inhibit her instinctive reaction to cough and gag at the thick gism clogging her throat. "Youth be gth boyth anth thst hth?"

"What?" Henry responded. He couldn't understand a word she was saying, and might not have even if her mouth wasn't filled with sticky, sloppy, viscous cum, as his own mind was lost in the bliss of his climax.

Miss Bixley worked to swallow more of it, and to shift the rest into a location of her mouth that wouldn't interfere so much with her speech. "You'll be a gooth boy and stuthy hard?"

It still wasn't perfect but she was now at least intelligible.

"I'll get the highest grade in the class, Miss Bixley."

She smiled. He might indeed do that, but she knew that Ralph would give him a run for his money.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Miss Bixley's experience with Teddy (see "Teddy has a hard day") had led to her experience with Ralph, which in turn provided the foundation for Henry, and her experience with Henry now drove her to consider even more adventure. In fact, it was Henry's reference to the Andy Griffith Club that gave Miss Bixley an idea.

Jesse Haywood, a member of the Andy Griffith Club, was one of her better students in the class. She had wondered if he was enrolled only because she was the instructor. She was forever catching him looking at her bottom when she was writing on the board, and stealing glances at her legs or her breasts when she was lecturing the class. But, if that's what it took for him to learn romantic literature, why would she complain?

In fact, she decided to give Henry and Ralph some competition on the last test. She asked to speak to Jesse after class. 

"Well, sure, Miss Bixley, I'd love to!" His unadulterated enthusiasm was really quite striking.

After all of the other students had gone (Ralph was the last to leave, and looking rather jealous over his shoulder at Jesse as he departed), Miss Bixley explained, "Jesse, you have been getting some of the best grades in the class."

"I've tried awfully hard, Miss Bixley."

"Yes, I know that, son, and I think it's just wonderful."

"Is there some special, extra assignments you want me to do?"

"No, no, that's not it."

"Do you need like a teaching assistant, or something?"

"No, no, that's not it either."

"Well, maybe like just cleaning up around your office, or after class, or something?"

"No, no, Jesse, it's not like any one of those things at all. In fact, it's really quite different. You're a member of that Andy Griffith Club, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," he softly replied. Jesse felt a moment of panic. Was she going to talk to him about the secret pictures of her he had taken? A number of times in the class he had taken pictures of Miss Bixley with his cell phone, unbeknownst to her. They weren't inappropriate, lewd, or obscene pictures. Not by any means. They were just attractive shots of her while she was teaching the class. Admittedly, he had tried to get an up-skirt picture a couple of times, but she wore such long tight dresses that it was essentially impossible, particularly if he didn't want to get caught. The only really suggestive pictures were of Mss Bixley bent over while she was working or studying something on her desk, and even these were not at all revealing. Her bottom though was nicely outlined by her tight skirt.

Jesse's only intention was to get some flattering pictures for his friends in the club. He took a deep breath, waiting for her to scold him for his rude and impertinent misbehavior. Maybe he would get a spanking? That wouldn't be so bad. Perhaps he should suggest it if she felt he should be punished. Imagine getting spanked by Thelma Lou!

"Jesse, I've been giving boys extra special rewards in class for doing good work."

Well, he was very jealous to hear about that, given that he had gotten an 'A' on every test so far and had always studied real, real hard. He would think he would be among the first to get a reward. "Who has gotten rewards?"

"Well, that doesn't really matter. I just want you to know that I want to give you a reward as well for all of your hard work and success in this class."

"Wow, that would be great!" He had no idea what it could be. Perhaps it was a cool picture of her. Well, that would be ridiculous. Actually, what rewards could a teacher give a student who was already getting an A in the class? A gold star? He's a little old for that. A pair of her panties would be nice but, again, that was rather absurd, even to joke about.

"Yes, well, what I would like to do is to host one of your little meetings, at my home."

Jesse's eyes lit up. "You mean it? Really?!"

"Yes, certainly. You can all come over to my house, and I will even have some snacks."

"This is great!"

"Yes, but only the boys in the club."

"There aren't any girls in the club."

"Oh...well, then, alright. Everybody can come over."

Jesse furrowed his brow. Why would she only let boys come over? That did seem a bit odd, to say the least. But, then, who was he to say what was odd. After all, he was the one in the Andy Griffith Club.

"Will tomorrow night be fine, let's say 7:30?"

"Sure!" He wasn't at all sure it would be fine for the other members of the club, but he knew full well that they would all cancel whatever plans they had for this.

"How many guests then will there be?"

Jesse answered quietly, "Three."

"Three?" She had assumed that a college student club would be much larger than that, by far. "Just three?"

"Yes, ma'am, just three, counting myself," he reluctantly admitted. Jesse was a bit embarrassed. The existence of the club was in fact a bit of an embarrassment for its members, at times. Other students would make fun of them. After all, who would be obsessed with a television show whose last season was just over fifty years ago. The membership had been much higher in the early days of the club, but the novelty soon wore off, the meetings became rather repetitive, and some of the members experienced a good deal of teasing. Only three persons remained. Well, a meeting at Miss Bixley's home would certainly be reinvigorating for club spirit!

"Well, at least the snacks won't be difficult to prepare," she teased. "Why don't you give me their names, so I will know who is coming and I'll expect you and your friends over at 7:30, tomorrow night." She needed their names to check something before she prepared for their visit.

"Great! Yea, sure!"

Miss Bixley was about to turn to leave but then asked Jesse, "Actually, what exactly do you boys do at one of your meetings?"




Miss Black



Her eyes were closed.

"Hands all over me. Mouths all over me. Voices in my ears and the weight of bodies all around me

"I'm surrounded," she said.

"My body is shaking and I have goosebumps all over and... all this... sweat!

My sweat... their sweat and I'm thinking, I can't believe I'm doing this!"

She ran her fluttering fingers down the length of her arms and shuddered.

"Mmmmmm, this is amazing! Everything is so smooth and slippery and hot! So much body heat and passion and desire and spit and dirtiness and..."

Her skin was flushed and she was on the edge of her seat, voiced raised. She seemed to become aware of her heightened emotional state and paused to compose herself. She looked down for a moment as if shame had overcome her.

"They were filling me, I was so... stuffed."

She lifted her head suddenly, almost proudly, and looked directly into my eyes.

I was overstuffed and I kept saying that. I kept saying 'I'm sooo stuffed, I'm sooo full!'"

"I see," was the only reply I could think of.

I had simply asked about her weekend.

She was wearing an incredibly inappropriate ultra low cut mini-dress, stockings and heels. She was dressed in black, with gothic style make up and jet black hair with subtle purple streaks. She had several piercings in her ears, one in her eyebrow, and a small ring in her lower lip. It was also quite obvious both her nipples were pierced. She had three visible tattoos, a biohazard symbol on the side of her neck, and on each of her upper arms were daggers with snakes coiled around them. Above the one one her left arm, the word SEX was inscribed, above the one on her right arm, DEATH.

She leaned forward, arched her back and took a deep breath.

"You see this face?" she asked.

I maintained eye contact with her for several seconds, then diverted my eyes.

When the silence became unbearable she continued.

"I've been told I have a blowjob face," she boasted.

I imagined her nude, with just about every imaginable spot lanced and/or punctured and filled with stainless steel. She was very sexy, in an un wholesome way; adulterated and sensual.

"You see this mouth?" she asked.

I raised an eyebrow.

"It was made to suck cock."

She moaned softly.

"I love to suck dick."

She looked me up and down seductively, shamelessly.

"I love to use my tongue," she laughed.

"I have really amazing oral skills."

Her bright blue eyes widened.

"I love to deep-throat, I can put a dick really far down my throat. I love the way my eyes get watery and I love it when a guy grabs me by the back of the head and makes me gag on his cock."

She took a deep breath, sighed and closed her eyes.

The first time I ever gave head I was in eighth grade and it was two guys from the football team behind the boy's locker-room. From there I started perfecting my technique."

She opened her eyes and looked at me, humorless and pensive.

"And I am very, very good."

"Miss Black, " I said sternly.

"To be honest, I don't even know how many cocks I've sucked?and I'm only 19!" she continued.

"Miss Black! Why are you telling me this?" I asked.

"We've just met; these are very intimate details of your life. Do you feel the need to shock me? Or is it your plan to seduce me? Because a sexual relationship, even a consensual one, is certainly... improper, to say the least."

She laughed mischievously.

"I know all about the rules, Father," she said sarcastically.

She leaned back slowly and gracefully, sinking into the overstuffed couch. She wiggled her ass and extended and crossed her legs, letting her silky smooth stockings rub together. The soft sound of the friction was... delicious.

"You know," she said.

"I think it's the sounds of sex that turn me on the most."

"Miss Black, you seem to be having difficulty focusing," I said.

"The little moans, the slaps," she laughed.

"The wet, juicy noises... but even something more subtle can get me going, like the sound of my stockings rubbing together."

She looked at me as her devious fingers toyed with the idea of raising her skirt.

"Miss Black," I interrupted.

I cleared my throat and pressed my bible against my erection and felt it throb under the pressure.

"Perhaps we could get to why you came here today."

She stared at my notebook, unfazed by my questioning.

"I know your cock is hard, Father Murphy," she said.

"I know your cock is really hard for me and I love it, it makes me wet."

"You know what turns me on most, Father Murphy?"

She didn't give me a chance to respond.

"Is how much you want this."

She looked down over her luscious, writhing body and began to slowly lift her skirt with one hand and caress her breast with the other. She moved her fingers over her swollen nipple through the thin, satiny material of her dress.

"What do you find the most arousing about me, Father Murphy?"

She gave me a sardonically threatening look.

"My lips?"

She laughed as she spread her legs wide enough to reveal she wasn't wearing panties and her pussy was clean shaven, and glistening.

"Or is it my ass?"

She slowly rolled over on all fours and jiggled her ass in an extremely crude and unrefined manner.

"Miss Black!"

I stood up and tossed my bible on the table beside my chair, unsure of what I would say next.

"Miss Black," I took a moment to compose myself.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave if you can't take this seriously. I'm here to help you, but I can't help unless you tell me why you're here."

She leered at me, insolent, and slid onto the floor and began to crawl toward me. She slinked seductively like a brazen, gothic sex kitten.

"Oh, I'll tell you why I'm here, Father Murphy," she said in a sober and businesslike fashion.

"I'm an addict. NO! I'm a junkie!

I have to have it. I have to. I can't help myself. I'm addicted and obsessed. I can't get enough. I need it like food... like breathing."

I backed up against the wall.

"You're a sex addict?"

She was on her knees in front of me, unbuckling my belt.

"Miss Black, please!"

I wrestled with her but her tenacity and strength were astonishing.

She pulled my cock out of my slacks, gripped it firmly by the base with one hand and shoved me against the wall with the other.

"Not exactly a sex addict, Father,"

She smiled and eyed my cock like a hungry tigress.

"But I do have needs."

She bit into my cock as if it were an apple, I felt her fangs sink into the shaft...but no pain.

I suppose I was in shock.

I stood there paralyzed, filled not with fear but euphoria.

She sucked ravenously from my engorged penis and blood-filled her mouth and overflowed, spurted from the wounds and spilled to the floor and dribbled down her neck.

She was moaning in ecstasy, almost sobbing, and rubbing her wet pussy with sensual, sedate rhythm.

It was hypnotic.

I watched her and I began to orgasm, my body shook slowly and deliberately as if in slow motion and the incredible feeling, all my senses and awareness seemed to be swallowed up in darkness.

I woke up the next morning on the sofa in my office; not an unheard of occurrence, I've been known to spend the night in my office from time to time after a night of drinking. I was unscathed, safe and sound, in one piece, and my penis? Not a scratch, undamaged.

After a cup of coffee I convinced myself the whole thing was a dream, but everything had changed...