4 comments/ 7489 views/ 6 favorites Christopher By: trippy64 This story will make more sense if you read David, Michael, Anthony, and Gary first, but not necessary. It will add context, but you should still be able to follow along. This is the last chapter I my semi-autobiographical series. THE FUNERAL It was an exhausting 24 hours. There must have been 500 people there to say goodbye to my wife and kids. I was just trying to get through each minute, each second without screaming in agony. The sadness was deafening. After 18 years of marriage, and raising two kids to 14 and 8, to have them pulled out of my life so suddenly was beyond devastating. It was an unimaginable horror I would not wish on anyone. I went home afterward numb. There was so much to do, so many details to handle, but all I could think about was their faces. After two weeks of trying to sort through things, and putting affairs in order, I finally started going back to work. Everyone was polite, but they had no idea what to talk about around me. It was awkward and strained. I welcomed the fact they left me alone, it let me concentrate on real work, but it made it difficult when everyone was treating me with kid gloves.I desperately needed to talk to someone. The managing director of the local theater company where my wife Lori contracted called, and they wanted to know if I was picking up her personal effects. Ugh. I had forgot Lori kept an office with them since she was there three days a week. Getting the kids stuff from their school was hard to deal with, but like ripping a band-aid off, I did it all in one day to not drag it out. I had to rip another one off, it seemed. I agreed to go downtown the following day on my lunch hour, thinking if it was too hard to deal with I would just go home and not return to the office. I awoke the next day at 5 AM with a huge sense of dread. I went down there expecting to meet with the managing director, but she was not available. Christopher, one of the directors knew what I came for. His big open smile was a fresh change of pace from the pained expressions of pity I was usually met with from people that knew my circumstances. He greeted me with a hug, and led me to Lori's old office. I had met him on several occasions when we went to the various plays over the years. Almost as tall as I am, he has a big, open smile, and dirty blond hair. He was in charge of marketing and seemed very smart. Lori spoke of him often and really enjoyed working with him. I knew he had lost someone close to him not long ago, as Lori went to the funeral, and she told me of the various things he related to her when they went to breakfast together. Lori loved having meetings over breakfast, and Christopher was her favorite companion, outside of me. I think. They worked out many issues over those breakfasts, and she always was in a better mood when she was going to them. He led me to an office and gave me one box, and he grabbed another and he followed me out to my car. I thanked him, and thanked him for being Lori's friend. I let him know she treasured their breakfasts together. "How are you doing?" he asked. Not sure what came over me, but I didn't answer with my normal 'fine.' "Terrible. I don't sleep past 5 AM since the accident, and I have no one to talk about anything with. Everyone is awkward around me. I cant stop thinking about my family." "When my partner died, I felt the same way. No one knows what to say. I use a few mental tricks I can show you. I also found support group really helps." He proceeded to give me the names of two groups he used. He said that he too treasured Lori Time as they called it. It was nice to speak to someone that had been there, and didn't treat you like you were diseased. "It'll be ok, but you really need to go to one of these groups, or somewhere. It'll eat you alive otherwise." "I just want to discuss it with people, ya know? I want to hear stories." "Tell you what, I'll check on you soon, you go to these groups, and we can go to breakfast in honor of Lori soon. I will share, you will talk. It'll help." I thanked him, and he hugged me. He gave my a sly expression I hadn't seen on his face any time before, and I had no idea what he was thinking. I got in my car and went home. As predicted, the tears flowed as I looked in the boxes at pictures and stuff. I stayed home and thought about my conversation with Christopher. I decided to look into one of these groups. The following day I looked up the groups on the internet, and found a couple of meetings to attend and figured out from there where I needed to go. They helped immensely, I decided I liked the one group and made a point to show up regularly. It felt good to be among others who had been through this process before. As promised, Christopher called to ask me to breakfast not soon after that. I accepted and it was set to Bud's Café the following Wednesday. I awoke that morning at the usual 5 AM, went for my run, and paced till it was time to meet up with him. I arrived and saw him already there. He saw me and smiled. He looked really sharp in his vest and I commented that it looked good on him. He asked how I was doing and I got him updated on the support group I liked and we ordered. We both ordered Lori's favorite, Eggs Benedict. I laughed and said it was her favorite here, and he said "I know, I am ordering it in her honor." The laugh changed to a tear. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" "It's OK, I came here wanting to talk about her with someone that knew her, but that caught me off guard, for some reason." "Those still happen to me sometimes. Your mind takes off, and you are crying deciding which bananas to pick at the grocery store." "I would give anything for one more hug from my kids." More tears. "I'm sorry. I thought I was ready for this." Just then breakfast arrived, and the waitress apologized for interrupting our moment . I chuckled and smiled at her, "It's ok, just reliving some memories." I went to the bathroom and splashed water on my face. When I came back, I told him it was too soon, and I needed to leave. I didn't want to make a scene. It was embarrassing, a grown man crying at a table with another man. "Don't go, we'll eat in silence if you need to, but stay." I thought about it, and decided to take him up on it. We ate in silence for a few bites, and I broke the ice. "Look, it was great of you to do this, but perhaps I am not quite ready." "I've been there, it just takes time. You'll see. But there is no rushing this process." "So I'm learning. I know there are 5 stages, but I think I have bounced through them so many times....." He put his hand on mine, "If you force it, it just back fires on you. Relax, and let it out." He talked about my kids, he knew almost as much about them as I did, and asked for me to share stories, and then he asked how I met Lori. I told him that story. I had come to town to meet an old college friend, Lori was one of the girls that hung out with this group, we started talking and then next thing we knew, we were in a long distance relationship. After a few months I moved to town to be with her and we were married the following year. I said it was funny, I think she might have married an artist that she introduced to me, but he seemed like a closet gay guy to me. He laughed. "You don't strike me as the type to have gaydar." "I had a few gay friends, and a roommate once. I think I can tell, sometimes. It isn't a big deal. You are who you are." He laughed again, "Lori was easy to talk to, and she never judged, at least. Must be from her retail days, but she seemed at ease." "I think gay guys are attracted to her." I said. It was then I got that sly look again. He said it was because of her kindness. But his face was saying something else, but I wasn't sure what. We talked about his work, and I even made a comment about some personnel issue he mentioned. He noted that sounded like something Lori would say. "She bounced a lot of stuff off me, and I gave suggestions. I guess sometimes it worked its way back to the theater." I could run their office from what I know about their people. He laughed and said we should continue the Lori Time tradition and meet for breakfast more often. I agreed and we set our next one two weeks later. He walked me out to my car and I thanked him. I let out a huge sigh once I was in my car. It felt good to speak about my wife and kids and not freak others out, and he made it easy. I looked forward to our next breakfast. Breakfast We started going to breakfast every other week, and a funny thing happened. We stopped talking about my family, and spoke about his life, my life, our work, every day stuff. It was the one time of day I didn't get lost in my thoughts over my family. I could concentrate on what ever we were talking about and didn't have to worry about if I was making him awkward. Though I was still waking every morning at 5, this is the one morning I didn't dread. He was always there, waiting with that big open smile of his when I walked in. About a month later we met each other at the theatre for a show, since I still had a subscription, and he sat with me and some other co-workers or friends with him, so it wasn't a date. I still liked going to the plays, it was something Lori and I did for every play they had, and it was a nice reminder of her to go back. There was a party for the cast and crew that night. Christopher asked me if I wanted to go. I had never been to one of these, Lori always went with her staff. I agreed and we met up after the show and walked to the backstage area, which I had never been. He led me back and placed his hand on my ass as he opened the door. I looked and there was that look on his face again. I didn't think anything at the moment, and he moved his hand up as I looked, so I figured it was an accident. It was a wild party. Everyone let loose and the alcohol flowed. I mingled and spoke to a few of the people I knew, and Christopher was all over to all the various groups of folks chatting, dancing and drinking. It got late and I was wiped out. I started to leave, and he walked me out, making sure I was ok to drive. At the door he leaned in and kissed my cheek and said good-bye. I turned and left. I didn't think anything of the kiss, but I did notice that look again. I drove home and thought about him. I hadn't even thought about him in those terms. I hadn't thought about any guy like that in so long. Way before I met Lori. I started to get weird about it, but shook it off. It was Christopher. I had breakfast with him every other week for the last 5 months. I went to a play and a party with him. It was just Christopher. We were friends, that's all, I told myself. I wasn't interested at all in him sexually, not that I could tell anyway. My loins hadn't stirred at all, let alone for a guy. He was much younger than me, so I didn't even give it a thought. The kiss was probably just alcohol related, not really meaning anything. The next week was our appointed breakfast time, but I had to cancel. I had a work event to attend, and couldn't break away. Christopher was disappointed, thinking I was put off by his kiss. "Oh, no, it was ok. I just forgot to tell you earlier," I said. So I asked if he wanted to come to my house for dinner instead, that Friday. I didn't want him to think anything was wrong. "Dinner?" "Look, I haven't cooked for anyone in a long while, and there are some dishes I would like to cook again that are always too much for one. Please." He said ok, it's a date. Dinner I woke at my normal 5, but was not upset, as I was very much looking forward to dinner. I had more energy than normal. I went to the store to get the things I needed before going to work. I usually worked till 7 or 8, grabbed a burger on the way home and collapsed. This was going to be fun, cooking something for someone, something I hadn't done in a long time. It was a date. I got home from work a little early and took another shower. I scrubbed everything twice. I shaved again, put on some cologne. Tried to figure out what to wear to look my best, yet not like I was trying. I was acting like a school girl. I told myself to slow down, it was just dinner. Nothing to be so worked up about He came over at the appointed hour. He looked great, his blond locks were parted a little differently, I think, and his jacket was the kind they pushed the sleeves up on the arms, with a sweater underneath. It hid his lean muscular frame. He was wearing tight jeans, and for the first time, I noticed a very prominent bulge. Why had I not ever seen that before, but I never really checked him or any guy out in a while. But it was noticeable tonight. I offered him some wine, and we drank and chatted small talk while I cooked and plated up. "Dinner is served." I led him to the table and we ate and drank some more. He enjoyed what I made, and for some reason I was pleased he liked it. The conversation flowed with the wine. We cleared up the table together and kept talking and drinking. We finished the wine off so I opened up 2 beers and we sat on the couch. We talked about dinner, and how things were going with me. "I still see their faces when I sleep, and don't sleep very well." "I was asking because you seem happier." "I think I was just happy to have a cooked dinner, not take out." "Have you ever been with a guy before?" Didn't see that one coming. I looked at him. His face was probing for an answer. I told him I experimented in college, but gave him little details about the guys iI was with. I didn't share any of the other stories, especially the cruising incident. It was so long ago, that I don't think about it ever. I explained that none of the guys really meant that much to me. They were just a wild sex fling. I went on to prove my hetro bona fides by announcing all the girls I slept with before I finally met and married Lori. He listened intently, as if looking for an answer to a question he hadn't yet asked. "Seems to me you were over compensating." "I don't know. I really loved being with Lori. Wouldn't' have had the kids otherwise." I smiled. "Besides, I am not sure I could have handled that type of relationship." He then got that sly look, and started in for a kiss. It was tender, soft, and very relaxing. "I didn't see that coming." I said. "You kissed me back...I have been trying to ask you for weeks if you would be interested." "Until tonight, I probably would have said no, but for some reason, it feels right." We kissed again, a little deeper, with a little more urgency. "I think am in love with you." He said. I sat there. I didn't know what to say. I searched my feelings for him, and I couldn't deny it. When I was with him, for the most part, he was all I focused on. One of his mind tricks was to think of something that made you change your brains direction. Every time I started obsessing about one of the kids or Lori, I thought of him. Because it was his trick, I told myself. But lately, I thought of him just as much when I was away from him as them. It flipped in my brain. I just didn't see it till right then. "I love you, too." There. I said it. I told another guy I was in love with him. The emotional impact was strong, but I wanted to be with him. Right then. He started kissing me again, and we went at it with a little more passion. I stood up and grabbed his hand. We went upstairs to the bedroom, and I took off his jacket, and started kissing him again. It was an odd sensation. I hadn't kissed a guy in so long, I forgot how different it was from the girls, Firmer, stronger. I could feel his bulge pressed up against mine. I wanted to see what he was carrying, because I could tell he was bigger. I was a quaking mess. This was my first guy since after college, and the first time with anyone since Lori. I had no idea what or how to think, and I was shaking inside. He looked at me with that very same sly look, and it all started to make sense. We slowly undressed each other as we kissed and sucked at each other's necks and ear lobes. I got out of my pants and looked down as I was removing my shorts. He was hairier than I imagined, or was used to. He had broad chest with tiny nipples. His hair was very light brown, and it covered everything. His biceps were round and firm, but not in a bulky sort of way. All of the guys I had been with before were for the most part boyish, here was a real man. I reached over and grabbed his belt and undid his pants. I never wanted to see something more than what was in his shorts at that moment. I pulled his waistband from his underwear down, exposing him. Slightly bigger than me, and thicker too. "My god, you're huge." I told him. He smiled. "I get that a lot. But you seem to be doing fine there, sport." I did ok, at 8 inches. But my body was not as well defined as his. I worked out every day, but still had a tiny gut. Old age. He still had washboard tight abs and it trailed down to a beautiful uncut rod, at least 9 inches. I bent down and kissed the head, and swirled my tongue around. I stroked him as I did this, and he let out a moan as he placed his hands on my head. I was putting the head in my mouth, but didn't go down on him very far. I kept licking and sucking, but I could tell he was anxious for something more. It was then I realized a huge tactical error. I hadn't needed condoms in forever, and I had nothing in the house to use as lube. I was not going to handle that one without some help. "Um, I don't have any condoms." I told him. "Oh, damn. I didn't bring any. How do you invite a guy over with no condoms?" I started to look hurt then realized he was ribbing me. "I have ways to make you cum." I liked where this was going. We lay down on the bed, and he kissed me and started stoking his cock on mine. We kept that up for a while, and it felt very good. I hadn't done anything in a very long time, and this was heaven as far as I was concerned. I was drinking in our smell, and the scent of him was intoxicating. We kept kissing as his dick rubbed slowly back and forth against me. I put my hand over both of them, squeezing tightly, enjoying how this felt. He started grinding my cock with his with more urgency, and I finally let out a huge cry as I came on my stomach between us. He arched his back as he ground his dick into me further and came as well, mixing his cum into mine. As we slowly got our breathing back to normal, we kissed and I said "Thank you." "Welcome, but it was-" "For coming over, for being you, for helping me get through this. For everything." I placed my head on his chest, and he put is arm around me and it is where I stayed until I fell asleep. Saturday The next morning, I awoke at 5 as usual, and he was sleeping,. I went for my run, and then started breakfast. I didn't hear him come down, but he put his big arms around me. The feel of their strength made me feel warm inside. I lifted my head slightly and he started kissing my neck. I put my arms around his, and pressed my head back next to his and let him nuzzle my neck. His stubble itched but I didn't care. "I am making Eggs benedict. The bacon is regular, not Canadian, the eggs are over easy, not poached, and the sauce, is well, nonexistent, since I don't have everything to make the sauce. But otherwise, it is just like the Café. I promise." He laughed. "Sounds delish." We ate and he asked "What are you doing today." "Nothing special, running errands, fixing a sink, what about you?" "Sounds like I am running errands and fixing a sink." I smiled. He had that sly look again. And that was what we did, ran errands, fixed a sink, went out to lunch, went back to my place and watched a basketball game, it was a fun day. I had never really done that with a guy I was considering as a date. I tried not to be too self-conscience about it when we were out, or act goofy. Around 3, he had to go home to get dressed, he had to open at the theatre, and when we kissed good-bye, I was sad that he was leaving. Christopher and Laura The burning wood in the fireplace crackled pouring light and warmth into the vast room. Walls floor to ceiling lined with books and shelves. The glow of the fire made everything in the room look like burnt sugar and honey casting about a calming sense of feeling. But on the contrary an infuriated man hurled a large thread bound text against the wooden wall in anger letting out an estranged growl in doing so. He let his gaze linger on the dent in the wall. He rubbed his palms over his face and massaged his eyes lightly as he did so. All my life's work stolen and passed off as hers his brain grumbled. Yes it was true that he didn't have to care any more about it because the death of his parents left him with the estate and a fortune to enable that he never needed to work a day more in his life. Still what did he work so hard for? For that wicked wench to get credit? He thought that they were friends, partners. Now he felt betrayed. The sun had not long set and it was cold outside on the brink of winter. Storming out of the room he drew on his long coat climbed into his car and drove to her. Why did he always find himself going to her? Cursing under the stars as he approached the town's tavern he didn't know what he was going to do when he saw her. Christopher Hummington was not the sort of man who hit women. He was well mannered, polite, hardworking and honest like every good man should be. He knew she would be in there. Bursting through the door to the pub, he spotted her almost instantly. There she was, Laura Summer. They'd laughed at her that she was so pale her last name did not define her. But then again Irish women often are. Her hair was long red and wavy against her smooth skin exposed in the open back of her black dress. She was sitting on a stool leaning with her elbows against the bar counter. Everything about her was so feminine. He watched the way her shoulders descended to her small waist and then flared to her wide hips. It had been almost twelve years since he had last seen her, since they had last spoken. His boots monstrously thudded the hard wood floors as he pushed unsuspecting people out of his way in the noisy crowded room. When he reached her she too was unsuspecting as he grabbed her by the elbow. "HEY! What the Hell..." she started, but as she turned she gaped at the site of who was standing behind her. Her eyes widened, "Christopher?" she questioned out loud. "We need to talk," he grumbled still gripping her elbow and dragging her outside. She was all but stumbling as he pulled her. Outside the pub it was much quieter. He pulled her around the building into an alley, cornering her against the wall. "The book Laura, its half of my work. How could you do this? We worked together on the research. And you publish it without my permission? Without my knowledge? Without my reference? Its mine too Laura. But you gave me no recognition!" He said, the words leaving his lips in a soft white condensate as he spoke in the chill of the November air. She looked up at him into his eyes. They were the same icy blue as she had remembered. But he seemed so different now. Laura and Christopher were studying at Cambridge University when they were both working on research in plant pathology. But when Christopher's parents died he had been overcome with so much grief that he left town. There were rumours that he became a monk and some thought that he died. But all he really wanted to do was get away and so that was what he did. He had travelled the world, climbed mountains, sailed the oceans and tried relentlessly to find his soul. But after so many years he found himself back home. He was tired. "What was I supposed to do Chris? You left us. And I was the one who finished our research. You didn't deserve to be given recognition to. I finished it while who knows what you were doing. You left me in the middle," Laura countered in her Irish drawl, "I had no clue where you were for years. No calls, no messages, no visits. You simply left leaving no one with any idea of where you were. I was almost sure that you were dead Christopher!" She was almost angry. But the cold was now biting into her skin and her exposed back pressed against the stone wall made her flinch. Laura shivered. "Where is your coat?" Christopher demanded impatiently. "Well you dragged me out so urgently I didn't exactly have time to grab it so it's still inside." She gritted between her clattering teeth. Christopher sighed and shrugged off his coat and draped it around her slender shoulders. She seemed smaller to him. As if she had lost weight. He was looking at her now. Her cheeks were not this gaunt but they still flushed pink and her hair was still full and beautiful. She was still beautiful with her big brown eyes blinking up at him. Without his coat Laura could see that Christopher was not the same skinny, nerdy boy she was accustomed to twelve years ago. His shoulders looked broader in his crisp blue shirt and the muscles of his flat chest and abdomen was tightly secured under a black vest. Of course she couldn't see it but his shape in the outside was divine. His arms were more muscular and his skin was evidently tanner as if he spent a lot of time out in the sun. He looked good she thought. His black hair was a shaggy mop on the top of his head. Christopher was staring into her eyes and his gaze raked over her face resting on her lips. He thought back to the day he left. He always liked this girl but she never had that interest in him. He had wanted to tell her he was leaving but he decided it would be better not to. He wanted to kiss her then and tell her how he felt, that he felt so much for her but what use would it have been. Standing this close to her and inhaling her delicious smell made him want to kiss her again. NO! He told himself, he hadn't come here for this. But her lips looked just as delicious as it did twelve years ago. And he felt a tension between them building. "Christopher," she whispered quietly interrupting his sentiments. He moved involuntarily into the small space separating their bodies, beaconing to her call. Her breathing grew shallow as she drunk in his appearance. He had been so angry just a moment ago. He placed both his palms flat against the wall behind her on the sides of her head. He leaned in his head and pressed his forehead against hers. They both remained breathing. "Im sorry," she exhaled closing her eyes, "I shouldn't have done what I did with the text, I'm sorry Christopher." There was no denying her guilt. He pulled away from her running his fingers through his thick black hair. "How long have you been back home Chris?" Laura asked. "Just about a week now," he replied putting his cold hands into his pocket. "Where did you go?" Christopher sighed, "It's a long story Laura. When I saw the papers published I was upset that you hadn't mention me. We were partners. I felt betrayed." "I know," she said hastily. "Don't worry about it I just wanted to know why." "Christopher," There was sadness in her eyes now, "I really am sorry. What I did was terrible selfish and unprofessional" "Can we go somewhere less... cold?" Christopher asked. Laura smiled they exited the alley and she retrieved her coat. They got into Christopher's Mercedes and drove back silently to the estate, Chris' parents' home. It was only a half an hour drive but they were forced to share the awkward silence of friends who had changed so much. The tension was palpable in the small cabin of the car as he shifted the gear to speed faster. Laura thought how did he know where she was, but then she remembered they had known so much about each other when they were friends. She wasn't oblivious to his feelings twelve years ago but she always fell for other guys who were bad for her. Eventually she realized what a fool she had been and decided to take a break from those kinds of guys. The kinds that just wanted her for sex. She hadn't been with a man in two years. In the twelve years Christopher had been away he had taken countless women to bed. He had apparently become a great lover. And in turn these women lavished off of his body. All the physical work and activities he found himself into made him stronger and defined his muscles and he used it to his advantage to always get his way. But coming back home and awakening old emotions felt dangerous to him. As he sat just inches away from her in the car he put both hands on the wheel and tried to focus all this attention on driving. Damn she looked sexy in that tight long black dress. He wanted to put his hand on her knee and slid it up to the apex of her thigh. The thought of feeling her there made his stomach clench and made his cock twitch. Laura glanced over at him watching his jaw clench and unclench and watching his Adam's apple bob lightly as he swallowed. It made her want to brush her lips against the sun kissed skin of this jaw and neck. She wondered what her mysterious long lost friend was thinking. Christopher pulled into a long drive way lined with tall leafless trees. The road lead up to a circular drive at the front, behind which stood a large erie old mansion. His parents' estate house. It was his now, being the only descendant of his great great grand-parents owner of the cotton estate. Laura gaped at the sight of the land. She had never seen his parents place before and she marvelled at it dark beauty. As Christopher rolled to a halt the gravel beneath the tyres crumbled softly. He exited the car and walked around to her side to open the door for her. Laura followed him up the stone steps to a pair of large double doors framed with rich oak wood and centered with gold and blue stained glass in an ornate floral pattern. "This is so beautiful," Laura remarked "You've lived here your whole life?" she was astonished. He nodded as he extracted a lone key from his pants pocket to unlock the door. Christopher led her into the house finally. It was warm inside and everything was beautifully ornate with dark furniture and honey colours. It felt mid evil almost to Laura. There was a large staircase opposite the door entrance and Christopher led the way upstairs without saying even a word. He lead her into the study of his private wing where the fire was burning still and it made her red hair dance with its flames. She shrugged off her coat exposing her slender shoulders and long neck. With the mixture of emotions going on in his head this was all to mesmerizing for Christopher. He hadn't expected for such a sudden reunion with her especially under the present circumstances. Laura glanced in the corner where she saw the book almost ripped off its cover and binding lying open on the floor. She moved over to it and picked it up. It was her text. Seeing it in this condition she didn't know how she felt. Did she deserve to feel hurt after what she had done? Christopher watched her he hadn't spoken in so long. He didn't know how to describe nor express what he was feeling. Was it possible to be angry with someone and yet want to make love to them all at the same time? He wanted to touch her skin, feel her breath warm against his neck as he wrung every ounce of passion from her undulating body beneath him. God he was sweating now. He had forgotten his coat on so he peeled it off his shoulders and dropped his body into a large arm chair by the fire. Laura put the almost torn book onto his desk and walked to the far side of room opposite the fire away from him. She eyed the books on the shelves. "You said you wanted to talk Chris, but you haven't said a word in almost an hour," said Laura reading the spines of his books as she touched them with delicate fingers. "Why were you always so loose with men Laura?" She didn't turn around to meet his gaze so he let it rest on the curve of her slender back he bit his lip thinking of kissing her there. "What are you trying to say Christopher? Is this your way of calling me a whore?" she asked knowing that he hadn't ment any offence. "Didn't you want to talk about the book?" She hadn't heard him come up behind her so she jumped when she heard, "No," near her left ear. She turned around and he was up in her face. "I don't have to care about the book. I have enough money to throw away. Its simply that I felt betrayed." Laura gazed at his handsome face so close to hers. She couldn't help but stare at his full lips pressed into a hard line. The fire on the other side of the room cast shadows on the smooth planes of his face. She reached out a timid hand to his cheek and touched him feeling his jaw unclench under his skin as he let out a slow breath. He closed his eyes and leaned his face into her hand. "I...I've missed you, you know," Laura spoke softly. "Laura, you know I've always wanted you. I've wanted you to be mine. I've to hold you and kiss you goodbye but I couldn't bring myself to it before I left this place. I hate this place. It reeks of my past, of the boy I didn't want to be, I feel my dead parents in every room. Laura you were my only friend," Why was he confessing this all of a sudden. Laura recoiled her hand and turned to face the window behind his large desk. The room was warm but the chill of guilt ran through her. She always denied what she thought about Christopher. There was a point during their studies together that she did feel something for him. Actually it was more than something, it was love but she was afraid it would have ruined their friendship and so she never told him. Was she hurt when he left? Of course she was. She hugged herself and shivered. But a bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Don't pretend to know anything of my feeling for you. I was falling for you but you left. Then after years you show up here demanding answers? Trying to pick up where we left off. Maybe I wanted you too Christopher." "Oh please Laura. You had no interest in me. I was never even your type. You slept with every other guy on campus. I know I was there. Instead I cared for you." "Yeah! You cared so much that you left me!" He ran his hand through his thick hair, "I had to Laura, If I had stayed here I would have combust and burn in this hell of a town. After mum and dad died in the crash I just had to." "Why did you not tell me anything?" Laura asked her accent getting stronger with her building emotions. "Because, I was afraid I would be hurt...again," he said simply. "Christopher... I," She whispered turning to him he was leaning against the desk behind her now. She bent her head after meeting his eyes. He had his arms folded across his chest. Dammit what the hell am I waiting for Christopher thought to himself. He reached out grasped Laura at her hip and pulled her to him. The movement was so swift and fast she didn't even realise it until she was pressed up against his hard chest. He slid one hand behind her neck and up into her hair and pressed his lips against hers. It was like an electric shock pulsating through her body. Her heart thundering in her chest as he slowly took her mouth with his. She felt her insides melting but suddenly alarm bells were ringing off in the back of her mind. Coming to her senses she pushed him away and extracted herself from his grip. "Christopher, I can't do this with you," Laura started "Why not?" he asked smiling. "I'm engaged to another man," she replied. His smile faded. He turned from her scowling. But then a snide laughter began building in his throat growing louder. He picked up the first thing he could get his hands on, a snow globe paper weight of New York and he hurled it against the wall yelling in frustration. This nightmare of loneliness won't ever end he thought. Swearing aloud he trotted into the master bedroom frustrated at anything and everything. He stripped himself of his vest then tried to unbutton his shirt. He fumbled with the top most button at his neck. Laura walked in at that moment and interrupted his frenzy. "Allow me," she said reaching for his shirt and slowly unfastening each knob from the top down, exposing his chest and abdomen inch by inch. Laura was a thirty three years old woman living with her still alive parents. She always sought to take care of them in their state of old age but as she was increasing in age she found that it was difficult to settle down with a man especially after she left her past behind her. Thereby her engagement was arranged to a man named Collin Harrison the son of a close family friend. It wasn't as if she didn't have dreams of marrying and having a family, but as the years went by she focused on her research and those dreams seemed like less of a priority. Christopher grabbed her wrist as she reached the second to last button of his shirt stilling her hands. He felt utterly vulnerable in this god forsaken place, that he had opened himself to her. he didn't want to scare her away. She was the only friend he had left in this town. He wondered if the kiss would now ruin what they had. Did he think himself a fool, that she had been right to keep their distance. They were friends but could have been much more. How could she not see that? He wanted her to see him as the new man he had become. "You are making this hard for me," Christopher whispered. Laura looked up here eyebrows quizzical and her lips in a smirk. Could he have been that oblivious to the innuendo in his words she struggled to hold back a laugh but she couldn't. Christopher was confused for a moment and realisation hit. "I mean, I didn't mean that," he said and he to laughed a little. It was so easy to break the tension. Christopher and Melissa Christopher Richman. He was without a doubt the most irascible, intractable man she had ever known. Why else would he persecute her so, skulking around her stage door, always with that same amused smile lifting the corners of his immaculately trimmed mustache? They'd hardly spoken in over a year, so what had excited this new attention, this grand patronizing between the dark, dusty curtains of Booth's Theatre? Why her, why now, she wondered, as night after night she recovered from the dishabille of "Hamlet's Mother's Closet," yanking her chemise onto her shoulder as she rushed by him in the wings. He would always yield just short of propriety, so in the closeness of the little theatre she was forced to rake her whole frame against his en route to the dressing rooms. Fiend. Unusually tall, he'd look down upon her with the wry condescension of one who knew a secret. It was infuriating. She swore he splayed his fingers at the opportune moment, just enough to graze the top of her corset. It was the fourth night he'd been so bold and tonight she'd very nearly knocked poor Hamlet down in her indignation. Young Peter Jordan had steadied her, spreading his hands over her hips, rather like righting a clumsy star onto a Christmas tree. She pried the youthful fingers loose and the boy rushed on to change, leaving her nose to nose with her nemesis. Christopher Richman indeed. What the devil? Their history was not unknown. He was more than four years her junior, which was not so very scandalous, but she'd always held it to be a great obstacle as she went through one marriage and a string of hapless lovers. He'd had his share of lovers, including a perfect pigeon of a lass whom he'd tearfully forsaken. Whether they were her tears or his own Melissa did not know but she did know this. The theatre world was small, and Christopher Richman's sudden lascivious hoverings would not go unnoticed. Christopher Richman. Rake. Lothario. He was now quite the man, and he so knew it in his claret colored brocade waistcoat and fur trimmed cloak. With his inheritance, The Richman Playhouse, great spectacle that it had become, The Hope of the Living Drama, apex of society . . . Well Christopher Richman had transformed right alongside the cherub framed proscenium and red velvet curtains. She allowed he'd become a handsome rake, staggeringly so. But she was not about to let him know it. His black-brown eyes appraised her. She a ... slightly . . . aging grand dame, an ephemeral queen, who made the most of it. She had perfected the lift of her nose, the coquettish angle of her neck, and when she did so onstage Christopher Richman would always ... always have to shift in his seat. Yes she was proud, and manipulative, and a very angry woman of experience. Yet he saw otherwise. He knew more. Eighteen years had not passed for naught. It was not always this way, this battle of wills. He had known Melissa since his father was scene painter for Booth's Theatre, before pauper papa could afford his own theatrical digs. She'd been Lawrence Barrett's newest find, and as the lowly stage hand Christopher could only watch as she made love to Lawrence or Edwin Booth in the way that he imagined her voluptuous frame should press against his own. She was a wayward child of 26 then, yes, far too old to be so bold. She should have been married, Christopher would often cluck to himself, yet secretly allowing, "Well done, well done." He liked bold women, and he liked Melissa. He wanted Melissa at any price. But the opportunity never came. There were flirtations and exchanges, marriages and mistresses, fleeting touches. Nothing more. It was fairly maddening. Now the time had come when Christopher Richman had had enough and was ready to pluck his prize from the footlights. There is much to be said of history and he'd written his ten times o'er. Melissa was between husbands. He'd flung the little pigeon skyward. He was ready, nay, aching, for her favor. And so there they were yet again. She'd finished her scene with Peter Jordan, a sensitive gifted boy who just might turn her head if he had the sense to do anything about it. But Christopher knew she had nothing for the young ones. The pups. She needed a man. And he knew he worn her down this night as his fingers grazed the top of her emerald corset, his fingernails fairly imprinting a horizontal brand over her hidden nipples. She'd jolted back, been steadied by Peter Jordan, and pushed the finger of her right hand into his chest to make a point. Her irascible little mouth had only begun to twist into a sneer before he ran his fingers under her corset and yanked her near. "Stop it. It is done," he said, his breath a hot mist on her cheek. "I've groveled like a stagehand for nearly a week. Do you think I've nothing to do but wait your leisure?" "I don't care what you do," she said, but her words were cut short when he jerked her still closer, and the bottommost steel hook of her corset pinged to the floor. "Make no plans tonight." Christopher ordered, and his eyes were two fiery black orbs. She jerked from his grasp, a true melodramatic gesture, but once out of his sight had wilted against her dressing room door. She bit her lip, chewed the circumstance. It had come to the moment of decision. Eighteen years of idle flirtation had come to this. This commanding man, no longer boy, encroaching her world, her sphere. Why now? The play crawled to an end, and after curtain call the buoyant, blushing Peter Jordan had kissed her once, twice, thrice and peered at her with his great puppy eyes until she was ready to beat his breast to be free of his presence. She made promises of oysters and caviar at Delmonicos. She ha-ha-haed and rubbed cheeks with the rabble. She was anxious as a cat as she scrubbed her greasepaint away and drummed her make up table. She could rush her preparations and be out the stage door before he darkened it. She could, if she did not tarry with the past. Christopher Richman was her past. Was he to be her present? How very presumptuous. Melissa dragged the brush through her hair and cursed to herself. She would meet the others soon. This would just be a silly panic, a needless trifle. He did not have the courtesy to knock. What would it matter if he had? They were all gone. All the players. Their revels ended. All those simpering artistes that might protect her. He knew that. She rose grandly and leaned against the table, gripping it from behind. He was unnaturally tall, this she always remembered, and he had the darkest eyes she'd ever seen. When he advanced on her it was supernatural, like an unearthly power. If she'd had presence of mind she might have spit or hissed, because this was an attack, no ordinary greeting, but she could only raise her defiant face to his. He slid his hand around her back and rested it there, sliding pressing his long fingers along the curve of her ass. He laid claim there and pulled her against him. She grunted slightly and lost her grip on the table, very nearly lost her footing. She hated him for a moment as the right corner of his mouth twitched in victory. She squirmed and was about to flail when his hands found her breasts and anchoring her ribs literally pushed her onto the table and against the mirror. "What are you doing, how dare you?" she said, as her arms went up, bracelets clicking against the glass. His hand slid up to her throat and became suddenly gentle, cupping her face. He soothed her with whispers. "Come now, Melissa," he said, "You know me, do you not?" For several moments he soothed her, pressing his lips again her ear, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Saying, "Hush, hush, hush, ..." When she made to protest he pried her mouth with his thumb so his tongue might find solace there. She squirmed at the sensation of this intimacy only to succumb to the taste as they pressed against the glass, a double vision of lechery. She was in her emerald silk dressing gown and he found the hooks easily, as a blind man finds his way. He yanked and pulled, fingers digging, hands cupping beneath her arms and lifting her to a reclining surface. She thought to struggle but when he deposited her on the chaise, and looked at her with those bold dark eyes, she could do little more than recoil. When he straddled her like a mare she had little time to cry out before he yanked at her pantalettes. She pushed at his shoulders, kicked her slippered feet to no avail as he found the pressure points at her shoulder and hips. "Fiend!" She cried. "Villain." He laughed then, and stopped his battle with her garments. "Oh Melissa,' he said, "Can't we dispense with the melodrama?" Again that wicked smile and she could not help but surrender a little, a scolding gasp escaping her throat. He relaxed against her then, a long dark serpent making his nest, settling his long arms and legs into her curves, resting his groin against her own pulsating apex. As her body relaxed, he pulled her pantalettes to her knees and inhaled her scent. She impulsively gripped the hair at his brow, steadying him. It seemed to much too soon to her, this boldness, even for Christopher Richman. He kissed her thighs and kneaded them, nibbling, then partaking voraciously. She pushed against his shoulder and attempted nonverbal fuss. But when his tongue found her mound of Venus she halted, grew quiet, hovered then fell against the chaise, stroked his dark hair, even gripped as he had his way. He divided and lapped her goodness, pushing and splaying like one starving at a banquet. His tongue was his scepter as he sucked her raspberry treat and fingered her hole. He measured his success by the movement of her hips, and then her thrashing moans of delight. Melissa was not one to give false praise. When she gushed around his tongue and fell against the pillows he knew he'd won her . . . But only partly. He kept his thumb on her sweet fruit, made a trail of kisses up her stomach and tugged at his own trousers. As he sank into her, her whole body jolted heavenward. She was shocked and elated and gave a cry not unlike a cat. She ducked her head and sank her teeth into his shoulder, sucking the salt of his skin as he pushed into her. "G-God" was all she could muster. There came the moment, completely in her lover's control, that she bucked and fought for breath, skewered onto his delectable manhood, a complete blithering thing . . .that was the moment she gave herself to him, that the tension ebbed and arms wide she let him take her. Christopher Richman heard her grunting surrender and watched her eyes, those divine blue eyes roll towards his. She threaded her fingers into the dark hair at the nape of his neck, raised her sweet mound against his and met him thrust for thrust. She was wicked good and as her passion grew Christopher Richman could only fumble with the ribbons of her corset, trying to free the breasts he'd forgotten to taste. As his long fingers intertwined the emerald ribbons of Hamlet's Mother's corset Melissa folded her own fingers over his and squeezed them saying, "Yes. It is time. Yes." The simplicity of her words thrilled him, and the longing so long built up reached a crescendo. He gripped her long red hair, held her against the pillow as he claimed her, felt his manhood tense and explode and spill into her. He thought she might fight and scorn his dominance. But for her it was a natural event. She arched her back and took all of him and he spilled into her like one drained of will. He was helpless at the end of it, sucking her neck and licking under her ears. For her part she threw her arms around him, wrapped and pressed her knees against his lower back, cradling, keeping him inside, like a sweet treasure. This time she was the one to still the restless one. She was the one to claim her own, and sealed it with a kiss, pressing against his salty lips. She parted them with her tongue, wiggled and caressed, pushing his linen shirt over his shoulder and kissing his chest. "Why?" he said, when he could speak. "Why eighteen years?" "What does it matter now?" she breathed, "The gap has been bridged. Oh enough of these trifles." She pouted and gently bit his bottom lip. Come on. Once more, my love," she said, meeting those demon dark eyes with her own. "Once more." Christopher Columbus' Slutty Secret "The linchpin that got America discovered." The figurehead, a voluptuous lady reaching for the distance with her velvet blue dress slipped beneath her boobage, rose high into the air for the prow to slam down into the scattered waves of the high sea. A man with a two-month old beard, grime stained pants, and torn shirt was bending over a net. The man was chubby from malnutrition and out of shape from being trapped on the boat. His bare feet with yellow toes stood on the algae green and rotten black planks. "I can feel my canines wiggling. It's about say another two days before another one falls out." He was talking to another man who was sitting on the ground sorting through the same net, a net that had many knots to fix the frayed strings. The sitting man was silent and didn't look up, as if he had grown accustomed to letting the other man talk. "You know why I'm on this boat? The judge gave me a choice. See the ocean or go back in the shoe. What did you do anyway to end up in jail?" The sitting man kept fumbling on the net with grime blackened fingers and calluses of hard labor. "I can tell you what I did. I bit a pig. Yeah, I bit a life pig. This rich faggot in his chariot told me that he can eat pig any day. The three ladies in his carriage were laughing at me with their high-pitched squeals and waving their slender glove covered hands in the air. So, I turned around. I saw a pig in a pen. I went over the fence and bit right into it. It was muddy, dirty, shit covered little piggy. I didn't even break the skin. The pig grunted and struggled. Then the gendarme came and took me to the slammer." Three months earlier, a commoner dressed in his borrowed clothes, sprint-walked through the hallway lined with many columns as fast as his legs would carry him without running. Tears were welling up in his eyes. His fist punished a parchment paper with a tormenting grip. The guards in their pompous, oiled armor and banners stared straight ahead letting the nobody push the heavy wooden door held by heavy iron. Once outside, a throng emotions rushed over him to make his mouth quiver in pain - "How could they not see?" He threw the parchment onto the street ground. It landed in a puddle of fresh lady piss. As was common in Leon, Spain in April 1492, the commoners pissed wherever they were standing. The parchment unrolled to reveal a fictions map of the world's oceans. The commoner pressed through the crowds to get away from the Spanish Court to the little hovel where he had rented a stable for his donkey and a bedding of straw for himself. The donkey welcomed him with a warm hee-haw. The commoner replied by swatting the friendly donkey on the behind and sending the animal scurrying outside. "Your services are no longer needed." Tears welled up in his eyes as he threw a rope over the central beam in his hovel. The tender work of tying a hangman's knot consoled him. He carefully coiled one loop after the next around the central line. His fingers pushed the coils snug and tight. He even smiled a little at the aesthetic appeal. He put in a thirteen's coil. He whispered to himself at the extra coil about the customer six to eight. "You deserve it." A soldier barged through the door. He had a helmet with a nose protection beam. He wore chain mail. He had the red color of the Queen Isabelle over his shoulder. He had to lower the wooden spear with the fire hardened tip to get through the low hovel door. The man stood uneasy with the hangman's noose in his hands. The soldier ignored it and belted out an announcement for the whole hostel to hear. "The queen Isabelle has heard of your rejection by the Catholic court. To demonstrate her independence of the Catholic Church, she wishes to sponsor your voyage. In the name of the queen Isabelle, I pronounce you, Christopher, admiral of the seas. Here are five hundred silver coins. There is a barge in the harbor. Her name is Santa Maria. You have your free pick of the cursed in the dungeons. If you don't accept, I'll behead you right now." Back at current time on the high seas, Christopher was standing high on the quarterdeck looking down at his ship both hands on the railing. The fresh ocean air was blowing across his face. The sails had a healthy belly of wind. His crew was laying on boxes and piles of ropes. Their limbs languidly followed the motion of the sea. The rags on their bodies were torn and tar stained. His personal guard was hammering plank across the stairs that led up to the quarterdeck. The wooden beam went from one railing to the other. A second plank was nailed to it to keep anyone from crawling under the first one. Nail by nail, the access to the quarterdeck was barricaded. A sailor nearby watched with a coal blackened eye and pearly white eyes, making a dark grimace. "Nail a spear to it as well," commanded Christopher. "So, anyone who comes rushing spears himself." The personal guard nodded and left to retrieve a spear. The headman of the sailors respectfully held his bicorn in his hands. He was the only other man on the ship who wore a black vest with gold buttons and gold shoulders. The facial features were obviously more refined, displaying a studied man. The worry furrows had grown deeply into his forehead. His face looked gray. "Christopher, we can slam down another small mutiny with executions. Once the whole ship rises, we won't be able to stand our ground. Let's turn around. We've been lost at sea for three months. If the course were true, we should have fallen off already," said the headman. "So, it's you as well. I'll hang you on the highest mast. Don't worry. I have not yet used my trump card. I'll keep that for last, when the hour feels like it's a minute to noon. And no minute earlier will I pull out my trump card," replied Christopher. "I would never doubt your wise counsel," said the headman bowing deeply to the point of staring at Christopher's boots, where the small toe was looking out of the worn boot. "If anyone tries to lower the sails, shoot him with the bow. As long as the sails stay up, and we control the rudder, those rebellious, lazy fucks can twiddle their thumbs. Nobody touches the sail!" hollered Christopher with a raised voice, so that the whole crew would hear him. That night, the sailor with the case of scurvy was tossing the net over the side of the boat. He liked staying bow of the ship, away from the miscreants and the captain. His hands were running the net down to where the water splashed up the bow into whitewater. "Maybe, I'll catch myself a little fish and a shark comes swimming to eat it. And then I eat the shark. There must be lots of sharks around the ship. They can smell the death on the ship looming, like vultures in the desert. Their noses most tingle them irresistibly like a sneeze, they must be licking their sharp teeth. I can't blame 'em. I'm licking my lips at the thought of eating one of them." His buddy spoke for the first time with a hoarse voice, dried by the salty air and rationed water. Fear, god fearing fear, was twitching on the man's face. "Shouldn't there be demons and creatures from the underworld this close to where the world ends? What are you going to do if a fiery demon, glowing hot like coal, gets caught in your net? Aren't you worried about your soul? Maybe, we should all jump of the ship for it is better to drown a sailor's death at high sea than to fall of the world and drop straight into hell, still alive!" "I'm not worried," replied the man with scurvy with an unusual steadfastness. "How can you not be worried? Half the crew can't sleep, because they are tormented between uprising against the captain or falling into hell. Jonathan died at the sword of the captain. Henrik's blood is still on the deck. The sea gulls have eaten his innards that have fallen out of him after the sword cut him open. How can you not be worried?" "I know things," replied the man with scurvy squeezing a sinister and superior smile between his lips. "Don't tell me that you believe in the Ancient Greek ideas that the world is round? How could that be? I don't feel like I'm leaning forward. You should have gone to mess at least once in your sinful life." "No, I'm a simple man. I only belief what I see. The night before we left harbor, I was the night guard. I saw something. Christopher came up behind me. He told me to look straight at the lighthouse. If my eyes were blinded, I were doing it right. Then, I heard footsteps behind me. A small group of man was moving very fast. All the light in my eyes made me sneeze. I couldn't help myself and doubled over. For a moment, I got a glimpse," said the man with scurvy. "What did you see?" "Well, they were carrying a bag, the size of a pig or a big dog maybe. It was alive inside. I saw it moving. I saw it struggling. They were very quick to hide it in the captain's cabin. The captain has a life sacrifice to pay the ferryman to the netherworld. We will go to hell. That is for sure. But, we have our fare to make it back out." Three months earlier in the port town of Cadiz, Christopher was walking down a road, freshly turned into mud from a heavy rain, with a corpse rotting in the open and blackbirds picking on the body. A shady hooded figure in a dark overcoat was sharpening a dagger peering into the road. Scrawny, raggedy figures were living underneath a canopy of a sailcloth right in the street. The stench of the canalization was heavily mind-numbing. An open canal dropped sewer into the main drainage channel. Turds of feces were floating in it. "Did the church's assassin leave us?" asked Christopher. "Yes, sir," said the soldier at his side. The soldier was covering his face with a robe. His eyes were darting worried into all the dark corners and treacherous allies. "Yes, he left us three blocks away. The sewage canals are too dangerous. I'm afraid I will have to leave you as well. The Queen Isabelle has ordered me to protect you from earthly dangers. Death himself may be walking here. If that wooded man with the dagger would come here, I would not know if I fight man or demon. You've achieved your schemes goal to get rid of the assassin. I beg you with all my heart for the sake of my family, let us leave right now." "My scheme wasn't to shake the assassin. I have an important meeting here for safe passage. If you are a mere soldier and not a warrior, you may go now. With the church's assassin gone, I don't require your services anymore," replied Christopher. Not a word said more, the soldier dropped his spear and went running in full speed the opposite way. The footsteps splattering the mud puddles rang out. As Christopher's ears adjusted to the silence, he could hear the moans of the sick in the street. A tavern wench was moaning in ecstasy as a patron fucked her for a quarter silver coin. She would have lifted her ruffled skirt to let him fuck the filthy, sperm coated pussy. A man was doubled over in an alley silently bleeding out, a hapless person who had said no to a mugger and yes to a dull, rusty blade to his stomach. Christopher gripped the metal rung of a ladder with his hand. The twisted iron was rusted and grimy. Step by step, Christopher descended down to the main sewage channel. The stench was so overpowering that his thoughts were wiped clean. His belly was revulsing. He threw up a little green bile as he descended into the darkness. The splattering sound of water sent shivers up his spine at the imagination of what refuse was falling down. "Who is there?" asked an old man on a chair. His eyes had been gouged out. The closed eyelids were fallen back. The man was bald. He was wearing a Jesuit monk garb, a brown robe with the emblem of a cross torn off. His feet were bare. The white hair on the back of his hands with the age spots painted him old. "My name is Christopher. My counsel tells me that you sell the Spanish Dragon," said Christopher. "Oh, yes, the Spanish Dragon. Why else would a surface man come visit me? You didn't come to see if I was alright. You didn't come for my wisdom. It's give me the Spanish Dragon, and I'll be on my way," replied the old man bitterly. "It is the crowning achievement of your life's work, even if the church doesn't see it that way. You were their chief alchemist, and they banished you into this abysmal place, as bad as purgatory could be," replied Christopher. "Ha, no you insult my home. Didn't the aboveground people teach you if you want something you must charm the man, smear honey around his mouth, until he feels like the most desired and amazing person in the world. And here you come to insult me," the old man spat on the ground. The white of his spit was a welcome respite from the layers of most despicable filth. "My honorable saint, how can I right the insult?" said Christopher coyly. "Have a seat with me," said the old man pointing at the ground. Floods had covered the floor over and over with diluted human feces. Christopher sat down on it, his butt cheeks denting into the feces. His nose was perking up as high as he could. A candle was throwing fickle light on the stones that formed a dome over the canalization, a long tunnel that was running from the depth of the city to the shore. "The Spanish Dragon, yes, I discovered it. I still remember the day. The snow had recently melted. The roses in the monasteries garden were budding to open soon into a soft pink. The priest had brought me another altar boy for my experiments. I gave him a tea spoon of these local herbs with an herb that a trader had brought from the orient. It was a strange herb. It looked like a black root. Yet, it stained red. It was a terrible stain. A soft touch and my fingers were red. I could not rub it off. So, I gave that lad a spoonful of black stew. When I asked him to open his mouth, his whole mouth was red," spoke the old man. "The hallucinations were terrible. My voice could not reach his mind anymore. I had to put him inside of a box. The darkness of that box was a blank canvas that made his hallucinations only more vivid. A bad experiment, it may have been. That's maybe that was all to it. I had gone through half the monastery town's children on my quest. The children were clogging up the cemetery. The local bishop kept encouraging me. The funerals brought in a lot of donations. There was something else to it. That oriental herb..." the old man trailed out. "The altar boy got aroused. The arousal had turned him mad. He chased all the nuns around. The Spanish Dragon is the world's most powerful aphrodisiac. Kings have sent messengers down here to buy a little vial. I never sell it to Kings even if they offer me a trunk of gold, because I know what would happen to me if a King took it and went insane," the old man shook his head. "You should have seen the state of the monastery after that altar boy's rampage. You can't imagine how horny a man can be. When the church send an inquisition party, half the monastery had to be put down, because their minds were too damaged by what they had seen. The monk with the golden helmet came with an axe. And he was chopping down my dear friends, priests, monks, nuns. That blade went down over and over. The whole monastery was drenched in blood. When the monastery was purified, the bishop came. He had me put in chains and banished down here. Death would be too good for me," the old man lifted his hands out of the lap to show the heavy iron chains that tied him to the wall. He rattled them to send an echo down the tunnel. He laughed at the scare that they put into Christopher's heart. "Haha," the old man broke into a bitter laugh. "I know your little heart is racing, trying to get the Spanish Dragon into your hot, sweaty hands. Did your consult tell you the price? It's your soul and 400 silver coins." Christopher got on his knees and bowed his head down. With an earnest face, he looked down. His breath was tight. He shut out the filth of the place to feel the moment of offering allegiance. "I'll give you my soul." The old man took Christopher's head onto the old man's lap. He pressed the cheeks against the thighs. He got a knife out and cut a lock of hair from Christopher. "I'll take ownership of your soul. I'll let you keep it for the length of your life. This lock will be my deed on your soul. When you breathe your second to last breath, I'll come and take your soul. You shall die a soulless man. And I will sell your soul to the highest bidder. There are many a non-human bidders paying handsomely for a soul," said the old man. Then he reached into the folds of his robe to hold up a thumb sized vial. "May you die a swift death if you are fool enough to drink this magic potion." Back in present time at high seas, a sailor was standing over an empty water casket. His fist hit down on the casket over and over. Bam-bam-bam... His face was fiery red with anger. His face was full of unshaved hair. The skin on his head was peeling. His teeth were yellow. He was missing two front teeth. He had a plain face of someone who was told what to do all his life. "Blood of my blood. We have been pushed down by the world. Everybody gives us less respect than a dog. Yes, they make us eat dog feces for sport," he hollered across the crowd of grim sailors who were looking on to him. "Today is the night that we rise up. Today, we claim our rightful spot on the world." The men around him grunted in approval. "When I look at you, I see respect. I see love from one brother to another brother." The men rattled whatever stick and hanger they had in their hand. "Against all this love and respect is one man, only one man. And he is up there in the captain's cabin. He is eating juicy chicken and drinking wine right now. He is writing denigrating poems about us, while we toil." The men screamed in anger and pain. "I say we take this ship. It is ours. We are seaman. He is a land man. Land man don't belong on ships. I say we toss him over the railing and make him find the ground a mile beneath!" The men broke out in excited screaming. Christopher looked coolly over the mutiny brewing in the night. The headman had the look of a haunted animal in his eyes. Christopher grabbed his hand forcefully. "Don't jump," said Christopher. "We have until sunrise. I will play the trump card then." The headman looked longing for the ocean. "Let us die right now. The sea is so peaceful. She will embrace us. Those monsters down in the belly of the ship will tear us apart, torture us, and feed us to the seagulls." "Have nerves as steel! When a bear charges you, you must hold your position until he is in striking range of your sword. I can see the red in his eyes already. He still has a few paces to charge. Have nerves as steel!" encouraged Christopher. A year earlier in the province of Andalusia, the court room with its white marble rock was packed with people. The judge with a might wig of curls was presiding high above the stammering crowd. He knocked the gavel to rouse the crowd to order. A young woman was thrown on the cold marble floor in front of him. Her white ruffle dress was torn exposing her rosy skin. A nobleman was standing high in his finery with an indignant face. His wife was screaming from the gallery at the top of her lung. "I want to hear the young woman's story. Start with your name," ordered the judge. "Slut," screamed a heckler from the back. "My name is Maria. I was born Carmona. My parent worked at a flour mill. When I was eighteen Visconde de Atamaria took me in his service. He was riding through our village on a return from a hunt. He spotted me pulling a water bucket up from the well. He sent one of his hunters on horse to retrieve me. The hunter caught me and pulled me onto his horse," recounted Maria her voluptuous breasts were shaking. Her arms were waving wide and graciously. Her motion exposed the skin on her leg and little glimpses of her tender belly through the tears in her white ruffled dress. Christopher Columbus' Slutty Secret "I've served Visconde de Atamaria well in the kitchen. I was the runner. When the chef needed something, he'd send me to pull water, gather strawberries from the garden, or carry flour bags from the barn. I did honest work 16 hours a day. I slept with the other servants in the barn on hey. Visconde de Atamaria treated me well. Once a month, he permitted me to visit my parents for an hour. He paid me handsomely with a silver coin for each month of service," continued Maria. "Some nights, he would be restless and walk around his property. He'd come into the barn with the servants sleeping. He'd rouse me by kicking my sides with his boot. He'd lead me to the stables. He'd send the stable master to the tavern with a silver coin in hand. And he'd gain carnal knowledge of me," recounted Maria with her head blushing so deeply red that it was purple. "I told him to pull out before his semen would shoot. He never listened. Last summer, I became pregnant with his child. His wife found out about the affair. I miscarried. I deserve the care for my wellbeing," said Maria reaching her hands forward to plead. Her face had a tentative expression. "So, you confess to adultery," said the judge while looking into thin air. He knocked the gavel down. "I sentence you to the dungeon in Cadiz." The judge looked over papers without paying notice to Maria. Maria threw herself on the ground in front of the judge. Her white ruffle dress spread out. The court enforcer grabbed her harshly by the upper arm and dragged her across the smooth marble floor. The last impression of her wear the juice, young calves that were bared underneath her dress as they dragged across the floor. The crowd turned into uproar. The Visconde de Atamaria smiled smitten. Back in current time at high sea, Christopher's boot kicked against the wall with a loud bang. The headman roused in the hammock swinging with the motion of the sea. He had been falling asleep after worry had eaten him up all night. His eyes were bloodshot red. His curly hair was a mess. With wired anxiety, he jumped out of the hammock. Christopher was holding the woman by her lush hair. Her head was pressed forward and down by Christopher's low hold. It was the woman that Christopher had smuggled on board at the night and kept locked up out of sight in the captain's quarters. Only the headman and the guard new about her. She was young, tall, and voluptuous. She had all the curves on her body, the round boobs that heaved. The boobs swapped around as Christopher was moving her around. She had a big round ass. Everything was taut on her body from youth. She had full lips. Her eyes were dark, deep, and loving with two blue jewels inside. Her lips were full and red. Her dark hair gave her a regal appearance. If she weren't born to lowly peasants, she could have fooled one for being a knowing woman of command. Now she was being led around by Christopher like a dog, actually more like a lantern - an object. He moved his hand around in wavy ways as he paced the captain's cabin. Her feet hurried to catch up to her center of gravity ever shifting. The headman had dreamt frequently about fucking the woman. He could not understand why Christopher had absolutely no interest in the diamond in the rough. Christopher seemed too obsessed with his voyage to care about anything. "Retrieve the box now," commanded Christopher. The headman bowed with a "yes, sir" and ran. The dawn was nearing. The dark blue sky was lighting up barely perceptibly in the East. The headman pulled the wooden box out. It was roughly a yard by a yard. It had a pattern of tiny holes drilled into it. It was mostly a roughly made crate with a few ornaments around the edges. It showed scenes of elves, unicorns, demons, and Cockaigne. There was a strong metal lock on it. The headman opened the empty box a little confused. "Drink this," ordered Christopher. He pressed a vial against the lips of the woman. The woman pressed her lips together so that they pursed. She shook her head vigorously as Christopher tried to force the vial through her lips. "Hold her head," commanded Christopher. The headman obeyed cradling her head almost loving between his hands. Christopher forced her head to recline. With the brute force of brawn, he forced the vial passed her pressed lips. The vial emptied inside of her with bubbles percolating up in it until it was empty. Then, Christopher placed his palm flat over her mouth and pinched her nose closed with his thumb. The fear-stricken young woman showed the white of her eyes. Not being able to breath, she struggled against swallowing the liquid. She held it in her mouth. Her body writhed with her head locked down by two strong man. Half minute of air starvation made her swallow. Her throat moved up and down. Christopher kept holding her wrung out of air until she turned a light blue. Then, he let go of her mouth. Wringing for air, the young captive fell to the floor. Christopher wrapped his arms around her torso from behind. "Grab her legs," he commanded. The headman grabbed her bare legs. He couldn't help but ogle the tender bare skin. The young woman was fighting with her legs. The headman hungrily stole a glimpse deep underneath her dress to catch her undergarment. With iron resolve, Christopher dragged the fighting animal to the crate and lowered her into it. He pushed all the limps that fought to get out down until he got the lid closed and engaged the lock. He sat down on the box letting out a sigh. "It's almost done." She found herself locked in a box. Her knees were pressed onto her chest. The back of her head was pressed up. Her butt was pushing against rough wood. Her arms could barely move. She could only see black. It was dark. The light that had collected in her retina was still firing. It gave her the illusion of a gray haze in absolute darkness. Cloudy shapes were chasing across her vision. She closed her eyes. What she saw stayed the same. All the images were simply leftover afterimages. They'd ring out over the next half hour in darkness. Like a Rorschach test, she could recognize a lamb flying for a while. The lamb turned into a dancing monk. The monk turned into the grim face of her elementary school teacher. The furrow lines across his face looked like stems of flowers. It was a bouquet of daisies. They had colors. And then she could see an entire field. It was her home, Carmona. She recognized the field. She had been running across it as a kid chasing butterflies. Her visions turned dark. An old man in a robe appeared. He stood in front of her. His eyes were pulled out. They only left eye lids that were indented into the skull. The old man stood there staring at her without eyes. Then, he raised his arms and let his robe fall down. He had the most amazing penis: Long, thick, smooth skin, marbled with deep veins, perfectly symmetrical. The shades of pink attracted her like a glow bug is attracted by light. She wanted to reach for it. Her knuckles only hit against the wood of the crate. The old man laughed out loudly. She saw the Visconde appear in her dream. He was having sex with his wife. When he noticed Maria, he pulled out and turned around. She saw his penis. It had always been small. However, it had a glow today. It was a sparkle, like a flying fairy has a sparkle around her. She remembered all the pleasure that little cock had given her. All the memories of her pussy around his cock came flooding back. She wanted to suck that cock with her mouth. She raised her head to engulf it with her warm lips. Her head only knocked against the wooden crate. A little gnome with a red hat took her by the hand and led her. He led her into the forest. She protested, "I want the Visconde's cocks." The little gnome waved with both of his little hands, "there is so much more for you." He pointed at the trees. She looked around. She noticed that the trees started sprouting sticks. She could see the trees grow. No, this weren't sticks. They were cocks. One was more wonderful than the next. One had a big head. Another one had a really thick shaft. One had a cute little upward tilt. There were real character ones, like the one with a mole on the side. She left the trail to walk among the trees. Both her hands reached out and caressed the cocks in passing. They felt so wonderful. They were all hard for her. She felt bewitched by the beauty that was glowing everywhere, hundreds of cocks. And they were all growing for her. A horse walked into a clearing. She could see the long penis of the stallion. It was as long as her forearm and hard for her. She followed the long lines of the penis. "Oh, is that all for me! I want an even larger cock," she whispered to herself. The horse flicked its ears. It had a big white spot running over its face. The fur was so slender. It gave her a little shiver. The shiver came from a little breeze. The breeze brought colorful butterflies into the clearing. The butterflies flew in a random pattern. She got closer to follow them. That's when she noticed that underneath their wings, they grew penises. There was a dozen micro penises underneath their wings. They were artworks, like an African craftsman working with wood to create statues. She ran after the butterflies lifting her palm to tempt them to perch on her hand. Then, a rumbling happened on the clearing. A mushroom head lifted out of the boggy ground of pine needles, dead branches, and mulch. No, it was a penis head. It kept growing and rising. The penis grew to the height of her hips. It kept growing until she was looking eye to eye with the penis. It was of the size of her body. The penis kept growing until it reached up to the canopy of the trees. She couldn't resist anymore. She ran up to the giant penis and hugged it. Her arms couldn't even reach around it. She pressed her penis against the tender penis skin to feel the pulse inside of the penis skin. The penis kept growing and pressing her arms apart. It reached high into the sky. Maria undid her panties. She straddled the penis sitting down on the boggy ground. She pressed the outside of her vagina against it. It felt so good. She tilted her hips forward and back to rub herself against the giant, warm penis. She clutched her legs hard to get a tighter grip on the penis. She clutched it so hard that the continued growth of the penis lifted her up in the air. Quickly, she was lifted above the trees. She was in the sky, riding up on the penis. She reached the clouds. The penis grew at an even more rapid speed. She was lifted into the universe riding the penis. She passed plants riding the giant cock through the universe. The universe grew to the size of the entire milky galaxy. She glided along the stars on the penis like gliding down a giant slide at light speed. Her pussy rubbed on the penis giving her immense pleasure. "The only dick that's large enough for me," she moaned with lust dripping hard in her voice. "She's ready. Lower the box down to the sailors," commanded Christopher. The headman was holding onto a rope that was running up to a hoist. From the hoist, the rope ran down to the wooden crate that was swinging in the air with the motion of the sea. A skeptical mutinous crowd had gathered beneath them. They were armed with sticks and ropes. They had started prying away the barricades that protected the quarterdeck. The sun had barely risen a few minutes ago. Bright light was shooting across the water pane with a perfectly clear blue sky. "You can't placate us with a few bottles of rum," hollered the mutiny leader. "We put your head on a spike and drink all your rum." The crowd responded with approving hollers and banging. They were dirty and ragged, the worst of the dungeons. They were the sucks that had been lost in the cracks, the thugs that had their judgments lost. So, nobody knew when to release them. They had accustomed to living in a wet dark dungeon. They had accustomed to raw human interactions of being beaten and abused. That's how they treated each other - insensitive, dumb, and raw monstrosities of humanity. They were stricken with disease and deformities from untreated diseases. These were the only prisoners that Christopher was able to convince to go on the voyage to the end of the world in exchange for the promise of a pardon should they survive. The box hit the ground loudly. A curious sailor, who was a drunkard more than a rebel, eagerly kicked the lock open. The lid swung open. Maria appeared. She took one bewildered look at the crowd of poor, shabby, dirty souls. Then, she moaned with a frightening hunger, "COCK!" She ran up to the drunkard, pulled down his sodded pants and stuffed his greasy, hairy cock in her mouth. Freeing her right hand, she reached for the nearest sailor, a guy walking in a peg with a gnarly scar across his face. She reached into his pants. Her eyes lit up holding his limp penis which was rapidly hardening inside of her palm. "Cock," she said muffled by the hard cock of the drunkard in her mouth. Her left hand went searching for the next cock that an eager, young sailor offered to her. He was barely older than a teenager and still horny as a teenager. His cock was already hard by the time her left hand got a hold of it. It was a skinny long thing, like a pencil. Her chest bend forward with a deep sigh of joy for holding his cock. "Is there any more cock on this boat? I need more cock!" screamed Maria desperately into the drunkards cock as if it were a swallowed microphone. The fat guy with the look of a retard didn't need to hear this twice. Not even the tavern wenches would fuck him for money. He quickly pulled off his pants. He was jumping on one leg to get the pants over his ankles. He had a twice crooked cock. It had a bent to the left and another one near the head downwards. It didn't seem possible to get that obstruent cock into a pussy. Though, he grabbed her hips and lifted them up. Then, he shoved and kept shoving until it was all the way inside of her. "Doesn't anybody hear me? I need more cock. I desperately need more cock. Please! I'll suck your cock. I'll bear your babies. I need more cock!" screamed Maria in angry lust without stopping to suck the cock in her mouth and rubbing the dicks in her hand. A big man walked up to her. He was born in the high mountains. He was 6' 5" tall. He had a full, black beard. His hands were huge. He was a hefty man. With the brute force of a steer, he tore is pants apart to bear his nine inch cock. He lifted his leg over her body. He moved down to be butt to belly with the crooked dick sailor. Then, he shoved all nine inches into her dirty butthole. He slammed her hard. Every time he slammed her, the other cocks felt the impact. Maria loved it. She was grinding her pelvis against the dick in her pussy and ass alternatingly, whichever gave her more pleasure at the moment. The mutiny leader was standing with an axe in his hand. He still had the same posture that was ready to storm the quarterdeck. However, his facial expression was deflated as he watched his supporters abandon him to fuck the ship wench. The ship wench was lifted to cock height for easier fucking. Sailors crowded around her. Only her bare feet were sticking out from the gaggle of sailors. He threw the axe down. He pushed his way into the crowd at her side. There were sailors to whose cocks she wasn't attached. They were merely caressing and grabbing her body. When he was up close to the hot sweaty center, the inner circle of sailors actively fucking her, he grabbed the back of her dress with both hands. With a powerful pull that took all the strength in his chest muscles, he tore the dress apart and let it fall on the ground. The crowd cheered at the sight of her nubile skin. He moved the crowd of fuckers closer to a crate. He laid himself in the grate on his back. Then, he moved the man to lift her body over her. He placed her full titties around his cock. Then, he pushed the melon sized things together around his cock to titty fuck her. The drunkard that she was blowing was pressed right next to him. He was the sixth sailor to join fucking her. All the sailors were pressing tightly around the fuckers. A lad grabbed her feet. He bent the legs around the vagina fucker, so that he could hold his penis with the soles of her feet. He gave himself a foot job on her warm, soft feet. The other sailors tried rubbing their penises against her anywhere they could, the side of the torso, the knee, simply anything. If they could reach it, they were happy watching the fucking, rubbing themselves, and shooting the semen in between two sailors to land on her body. She was soon more salt crusted than the ocean itself. Whenever a sailor jizzed inside of her and turned a little weak in the knees, another sailor would immediately push him to the side. The drunkard had a weak moment. The boat painter immediately seized the opportunity to shove his cock into her mouth. He grabbed her by the hair and skull fucked her. The skirmish of sailors fucking her and succumbing to orgasms made the pack move around the deck of the boat. Christopher and the headman watched the skirmish from above. There were 39 sailors on the ship. Giving them time recovery time, let them come for thirds, fourth, and fifth. Christopher got his rocking chair out and stuffed a pipe. The headman watched the fuckery. He bit his lips and whispered, "I'm missing out on the fuck of a lifetime. All I can hope for is a fat chick back home that only wants to pop out children and gossip with her girlfriends. This one is superhot and actually likes sex." Christopher caught the words, "Don't worry, another two hours and they'll settle down. You can take your turn then." In the afternoon, a quiet came over the ship. The sailors were passed out in post-coital sleep. Maria crawled around on her knees, because she had gotten fucked so well that she couldn't walk. She was searching for a hard code. Though, every sailor that she crawled up to was limp and snoring. "I can't believe I ran out of cock," she whimpered in frustration. Christopher was looking on with amusement. A pigeon came flying and landed on the railing near Christopher. "In the nick of time," he said with relief as he knocked the pipe against the ground to empty its contents. "I'll be able to unleash her on the locals." Christopher Gets a Jeff-Massage Saturday Morning, 11:30 a.m. I just had a real hot date with a young man named Christopher. He lives right in the next town over from me, in Asbury Park, and he took the train here, took him 15 minutes from his house. I picked him up at the train station for our first meeting. When he got in my car, I was taken aback for a second by his stunningly-handsome face. His trim 5'9" frame was hidden under a heavy fleece cotton jacket. I forget how old he told me he was, but he cannot be more than 25. And he had never in his life been with an older woman, so I could tell he was extremely nervous and he would have been too nervous to have sex with me today, I could sense that from him. So after 5 minutes of sitting on my sofa, I asked him if he would like for me to give him a massage, and he said, "OH MY GOD YES!" I led him into my bedroom and undressed him like a little boy while he stood at the foot of my bed. As I took off his shirt, each of his upper arms revealed huge bands of darkly colored, intricate patterned tattoos -- absolutely gorgeous ones, all of Celtic symbols and designs. I turned his back toward me while I lifted his arms over his head to pull off his t-shirt, and there, right smack dab in the middle of his upper back, between his shoulder blades was a huge Celtic Cross tat. A bit further down his torso, toward his lower back, just above his waist, was another large, wide band of dark blue Celtic designs. Oh, my, I am realizing now that I really have a fetish for tattoos! Nope, no doubt about that, I have a real bad fetish for them now. LOL!!! I laid Christopher on my bed on his belly, and told him to tuck the cervical pillow under his neck and stretch out his arms until he was in a totally comfortable position. I then pulled the quilt up over his body, all the way up to his shoulders. "I am gonna get undressed, baby, and I don't want you to get cold while you are laying there." He was smiling at me shyly, with twinkling eyes, as if to say, "I hope you don't mind me watching you undress." And of course, I did not mind at all, I wanted him to get a good view of my whole body, because it would soon be upon his backside! And I stripped completely naked, save for my black thigh high nylon stockings. I slowly drew the cover from his back, and perched myself above his rear, with my one knee on either side of his ass. Warming several huge dollops of lotion in my hands for a minute, I then told him softly, "This is just lotion now baby, and it might be a bit cold at first." I began smearing it all over his backside, from the bottoms of the cheeks of his ass all the way up to his shoulders and neck. And there it was..... that gorgeous sound coming from his throat already. He was moaning and sighing in ecstasy just from the touch of my hands on his backside, smoothing and smearing the lotion around in deep, wide circles. I took the bottle of cream again and filled both my hands with a portion, this time smearing and spreading it all over the front of my own body, especially my big, bulbous, boobs. And getting myself onto all fours now, I leaned my boobs, belly, and pussy mound full onto his back and pushed down just hard enuf so he could feel each of my individual body parts touching his individual body parts! After a few minutes of massaging his upper back with my boobs, I skidded my giant knockers further down his spine, until they were just touching the cheeks of his ass. "Oh, baby, I am pushing my hard nipples into your skin now," I whispered to him as I pressed my bosom into his buttocks with all of my might! He let out a long grunt, and he was moaning so continuously now that I could no longer distinguish whether the sounds were coming from his throat or my own. I made big circles around the outer part of his cheeks while I felt as if I was drilling my nipples into him. And with each circle, each nipple would come to his ass crack, and when it did I would take a break there and run the nipple up and down against his asshole a couple of times. After what felt like a hundred passes, I leaned down my head to his behind, and began passionately kissing his cheeks! My kisses were the wettest-of-the-wet kind, cuz I knew I was drooling uncontrollably, as I tongued, sucked, licked and kissed each cheek equally. His torso was pretty much writhing on my bed at that point, he was really hot and bothered by what I was doing to him, there was no doubt about it. After teasing his rear long enuf, I gently yet firmly spread the whole length of his crack apart, and in one gliding motion, I JAMMED my tongue into his asshole! Man, I was using muscles in my mouth that I did not even realize I had there! LOL!!! I rimmed his asshole for a good fifteen minutes, barely ever coming up for a second to even take a breath! He tasted and felt so fucking good, his skin was so pale and soft, and he was spanking clean, just like a freshly bathed baby's ass! He was getting into it bigtime, too, and as I stretched my tongue out further to lap at his balls a couple of times, I could see his hard rod nearly bent in half under his heavy balls! I reached between his legs, and very tenderly cradled his curved cock in my hand. Using a combination of gentle stroking motions and cupping actions, I could tell his load of cream was beginning to build up inside of him. "Baby, stay still, I will be right back, I have to go get something," I apologized to him. 'Dammit, Leslie, you left your vibrator in the living room,' I was thinking to myself. I sprinted out to get it so fast, I think he did not even realize I was gone yet. "Christopher, I am going to put my vibrator on you, ok, baby?" "UMCHGH!!!!" God only knows what he grunted, but I got the idea it was cool with him if I did my will with my vibrator on his ass! So, I jacked it right up to high, and began circling his asshole with the well-lotioned tip of my green glow-in-the-dark 10" vibe! Recupping his now throbbing penis in my hand, I started my stroking action on him, in perfect rhythm with the insertion and withdrawal of my vibe from his asshole. I must have been pushing about 3" worth of my tube into his hole, when suddenly he blurted out, "Push it in further!!!" So, push I did, and two more inches of length extended into him. "IIIII'''''MMMMMMMMMM CCCUUUMMMMMMIIINNNGGG!!!" he screamed out. At that instant, the bed between his legs flooded from his explosion, with creamy-clear slippery love syrup. The only sound in the room was the low droning sound coming from Chris's mouth, as I collapsed on top of his behind in near exhaustion. Christopher in Cancun The Bellfore-Cancun Hotel is an exclusive Mexico vacation destination. A beachfront property, it hosts vacationers from around the world. On this sunny June morning, Michael, the pool man, escorted two attractive women to the two empty chairs at poolside. Susan and Laura are starting a long weekend vacation. A well deserved four days away from their husbands and children. Each woman was very attractive, but with different bodies. Susan was a 38-year-old mother of two. She was an even 5'0" and weighed 110lbs. Her gym toned body held her B-cup breasts and shapely bottom. Her best friend Laura was 36. This natural blond beauty was tall at 5'9". She had an hourglass figure and was also toned to perfection. As Michael indicated the woman's lounge chairs and accepted their tip, he winked at the man in the next lounge. In his stylish dark wraparound glasses the man seemed to be sleeping, but Michael knew the man was watching the women with much interest. The man was Christopher. Most knew him as successful salon owner from West Hartford, CT. He had another much more profitable business. He was a very successful pornographer and had used the profits from his porn web site to buy a large portion of this hotel. Christopher had spotted the women the previous evening as they checked in. He had arranged with Michael to have them seated next to him at the pool this morning. Michael had just earned a $100 tip. As they dropped their bags on the cement deck, Christopher heard the blond say, "Remember, what happens in Cancun, stays in Cancun," and they both giggled. Stripping to their swimsuits, the women readied themselves for a day in the sun. They did take notice of their neighbor. He looked about 40 and they were both secretly impressed by his build. A 44" chest tapered to a 33" waist. His arms, legs and abs looked rock hard. He didn't have huge muscles, but hard well-defined ones. He was in much better shape than their husbands. Both were good men, but they worked too hard, drank too much, were over weight and were away from home too often. Although neither woman had been unfaithful, each suspected their husband was a cheater. They hadn't talked about it, but if they found some trouble while on vacation, they would take advantage of it. Little did they know but they had found big trouble and his name was Christopher. As the girls settled in, a woman approached and said, "A call for you Mr. Christopher," and handed their neighbor a phone. He talked quietly for a few moments and as he hung up a waitress immediately appeared and took the phone away. The woman noticed that the hotel staff paid a great deal of attention to "Mr. Christopher". They brought him drinks, snacks, the phone and even a computer. They admired his build and bearing as he walked to the pool and dove in. After swimming a few powerful laps, he walked back to his spot. He smiled, nodded at both woman and said, "You should try the water, its just perfect." He continued, "By the way, I'm Christopher. I'm here on vacation from Connecticut, but I'm also a part owner of the Bellfore-Cancun. I'm happy to have you here as my guests." His introduction broke the ice. Christopher ordered his new friends drinks and snacks as they chatted. They talked about Mexico and Cancun. He told stories about his many adventures in the city. He shared his favorite restaurants, fashion and jewelry shops and most interesting tourist spots. Both women found Christopher sexy, charming and just plain fun. They wondered if one might get lucky with him. Michael, the pool boy appeared and said, "Ms. Laura, the salon has had a cancellation. We can fit you in, but you'll have to come now." Laura looked at Susan. She wanted a haircut, but didn't want to leave Susan alone with their new friend. Susan read her mind, smiled and said, "Go ahead girl," and laughed to herself. She was looking forward to a little time alone with this stud. She could feel her nipples harden and knew her pussy was soaked. Christopher spoke to Michael, "Arrange for Laura to have the full treatment and charge my account." Then he got to his feet, held out his hand and helped Laura to her feet. He looked into her eyes, kissed her cheek and said, "Go get pampered, you deserve it, sweetheart." Both girls noticed it at the same time. They could see the outline of a half hard cock running down his leg. Jesus, he was handsome, had a great body and personality, loads of money and he had a huge cock. As Laura walked away, Susan felt a wave of excitement. Christopher was about to settle back into his lounge then he suggested that Susan needed some more sun block. Before Susan could decide, he had grabbed her lotion and was pouring it into the palm of his hand. Susan was lying on her stomach when he took command. He first untied the two strings of her bikini top. "We don't want tan lines do we?" He said this more to himself. He started at her neck and moved over her shoulders and down her arms. It felt more like a fabulous massage than a quick covering of sun block. He rubbed more of the oily block onto her back and he rubbed down to her string bottom. He didn't miss her sides and she wondered if he purposely rubbed the sides of her breasts. She felt herself getting excited as he started on the tops of her thighs, really the bottom of her ass. He didn't miss an inch of her body and when he finished with her left foot he slide her big toe into his mouth and bite it. "Hey," she yelled and she looked over her shoulder at him. She couldn't stay mad. He had a huge grin on his face. He winked, slapped her ass and sat back into his lounge chair. God this man was sexy and she was getting hornier by the minute. After another hour of chatting and flirting, he asked if she would join him for lunch. She accepted and he called to a waitress. He ordered for both of them, "Lobster salad, oysters and ahi tuna." In less than fifteen minutes the waitress came and said "Christopher, your private table is set, lunch has been served and you won't be disturbed unless you call for assistance. Christopher thanked the servant, got to his feet and offered his hand to Laura. Laura reached for her wrap, but Christopher suggested that the sun would be beautiful and they could eat in their swimsuits. He led her across the pool deck, up the stairs to his private elevator and they were lifted to his private room on the top floor. Laura couldn't believe the view. Her smile and the wonder in her eyes indicated that she was in awe. There were windows surrounding the room. "I'll give you a tour later, if you would like, but lets eat now. Holding her hand again, he led her to a huge terrace, complete with hot tub and a private dinning area. He held the chair as she sat and together they started eating a world-class lunch. As good as the food was, the wine was even better. Like a good host, Christopher made sure her glass was always filled. He let her talk about her life in the Charlotte, NC area. She never complained, and he liked that but he could tell that she wasn't satisfied. She admitted that she and Susan needed to get away for a little adventure. "I can't believe I said that," she thought to herself and she blushed. As they finished their lunch and the conversation started to slow, Christopher got to his feet and said, "Your shoulders need some lotion." He grabbed a near-by bottle. He again started at her shoulders, neck, arms and then his hands slid to her upper chest. Her breath became shallow as his fingers brushed over her upper breasts. He bent and whispered into her ear, "Take your top off baby". As if in a trance, she reached behind her neck and untied the string around her neck. Next, the string behind her back was undone. Christopher took the bikini top and dropped it to the terrace floor. He covered both her bare breasts with coconut-flavored lotion and again whispered, "You excite me so much". With her eyes closed and her breath shallow, she just moaned, "Oh god!" His fingers felt great as they rubbed her breasts. When he started pinching and lightly twisting and pulling her nipples, she thought she would explode. Her tits hadn't had this kind of workout in years. His left hand continued to maul her tits, while his right worked lower over her stomach. When she spread her legs, he took his cue and cupped her pubic mound rubbing her cunt through the small bikini bottom. "I hope your ready for a workout, because I'm going to fuck you hard", he teased as he assaulted her. She was panting like a slut. He pushed her bottoms to the side and jammed three fingers deep into her tight wet cunt. Her eyes and mouth opened wide, but no words came out as she had a silent screaming orgasm. Out of breath and more than a little disoriented, she sat in the chair as Christopher walked in front of her. His fingers were still playing with her pussy as he dropped his pants to the floor. The biggest, thickest cock jumped out in front of her. "I'll do the work," he said as he rubbed his cock over her face. He rubbed it on her lips and she automatically opened her mouth. He worked magic as his nine-inch cock slide into her throat and started to slowly fuck her tonsils very deep. "You are so fucking exciting," he said. This was all new to her. She loved sex and she and her husband had a varied sex life, but this was off the wall. She was sitting in a chair. A stranger's 9" cock was fucking her throat and the man had three fingers being jammed into her gapping pussy. She was riding a wave of one orgasm to the next. Her husband would cum in minutes, but Christopher had been fucking her mouth forever. As her jaw started to ache, she heard his breathing change. He pulled from her mouth and caught her off guard as he unloaded onto her face. No one had ever cum on her face and she was disgusted. She wanted to wipe off the cum, when he grabbed her hand. "God, you look so sexy, I'm going to clean you with my tongue." He licked the cum from her cheek and offered her his tongue. She took it in her mouth and tasted the salty cum. He continued licking her face and tongue feeding her until she was clean. Then, taking her hand, he guided her through his apartment to his lavish king size bed. He laid her on her back, kneeled at the side of the bed, slid her sloppy bikini bottoms down her legs, spread her wide and kissed her bare pussy. He had given her a good finger workout and her lips were swollen. She was moaning quietly and enjoying his oral assault. She jumped when his tongue hit her clit and she grabbed the back of his head and ground her cunt into his face. She came bucking on his face and screaming loud. She started to settle when she felt something new and very dirty. His tongue was licking her asshole. She was going to push his head away, but a thrill shot up her spine. "So dirty, but it felt so good," she whispered softly. His tongue traveled from her asshole to her clit and then back. She didn't think anything could feel so good. Then he stood and lay next to her on the bed. "Climb on my dick, baby." She lifted her exhausted body off the bed and straddled his body. Cock in her hand, she lowered herself down letting inch after inch slide into her. "Fuck, your cock is so big!", she moaned as she bottom out. He reached out and palmed each ass cheek and she moaned again. "It seems like you like a little ass play, darling." His finger entered her crack and found her asshole. His middle finger slid into the incredible tight hole. "Jesus," she screamed, "what are you doing to me?" "Turning you into a slut, sweetheart. Do you like it?" All she could do is scream, swear, and cry from one orgasm to the next. After a half hour of her on top, Christopher chewing her nipples, fingering her asshole and fucking her cunt, he rolled her onto her back. He slides two fingers back into her ass and started to pound her pussy. He was in great physical shape and was going to fuck her until she couldn't take anymore. Another 30 minutes of brutal fucking and she started to beg him to stop. "I need another cum, baby. Get on your hands and knees." She could hardly move and Christopher needed to help her into a doggie position. He thought, "God, her ass is perfect, this is going to be fun." He found the hidden tube of lube and coated his cock. He got behind her and teased her pussy with his dick. Laura was so tired, that she hardly reacted. That changed when he positioned his cock at her asshole and pushed in. He had to hold her hips tightly, because she went nuts. "Get out of my ass", she screamed. But the more she squirmed, the deeper he slid in. When he was five inches deep, he slapped her ass, very hard. A startled Laura started to cry as Christopher explained, "I'm going to cum in your ass, baby. You can either enjoy it or fight it, but I'm going to cum. Do you understand?" She whimpered and nodded her understanding. "Rub your cunt", he told her. He could feel her balance on one hand and bring her other to her pussy. He let her rub herself until her breathing started deepen and then he started to slowly ass fuck her, just a few inches at a time. Her ass was tight and griped him like a glove. When he got close, he instructed, "Play with my balls." Her hands found his nuts and as she squeezed his sack, he exploded deep in her bowels, yelling, "You're so fucking hot". His cock softened and popped from her ass as an exhausted Laura fell face down in the bed. Christopher stretched out next to her, covered her with a sheet, and whispered, "You're so fucking hot. I'm so excited we were able to spend time together." He kissed her cheek and rubbed her back. "He could be so gentle and could be such an animal". She couldn't understand why he excited her so much. After a bit, he got out of bed and got a bottle of Champaign. Opening the bottle, he called for Laura to join him on the terrace. Christopher guided her to the hot tub and they got in together. For the next hour, they sat together, talked, kissed and drank Champaign. Laura made him promise not to tell Susan about their time together. With the promise of this secret affair, Laura could enjoy the rest of her vacation. Later that evening, Laura and Susan were enjoying a late dinner at a near-by restaurant. Susan was bragging about the message, facial, haircut and other extras. "I don't think this vacation could get any better," she bragged. Laura smiled to herself. Susan wanted to know about the afternoon with Christopher. Laura told her that they sat by the pool and talked all afternoon. She offered that he was sexy, interesting and a lot of fun. "Do you want to fuck him?" Susan asked. Laura smiled and shrugged her shoulders. The woman planned their next two days in Cancun. As they finished dessert, Susan was ready for some dancing but Laura said she wanted to go to bed. She complained that the travel was catching up with her. In reality, Christopher had fucked her to exhaustion. Her pussy and asshole were nicely sore. The hot tub had helped, but she wanted some sleep. Susan promised to pay the dinner bill. She told Laura to go back to the hotel. She was going to the bar on the other side of the restaurant and listen to the jazz band. She promised to meet Laura back at their room before midnight. Susan made her way into the jazz club and took a seat at the bar. Although the place was crowded, most of the patrons were couples. "Oh well," she thought. "I'll enjoy some music and head back to the room early." She was about to order a glass of merlot, when the bartender approached and put a glass of Champaign in front of her. The bartender smiled and said the man in the corner booth sent it. The lighting was low and it took Susan a few seconds to find the booth and a few more to recognize the man as Christopher. He was smiling and toasting her from his seat. When he stood and started toward her, she felt the excitement of a thousand butterflies in her stomach. He was dressed in a sport jacket and slacks. They were well tailored and hung from his body, just perfect. She watched as he looked over her body. Her black thigh length mini dress hugged her body. It advertised her cleavage and breast, her ass and long legs. Other than her dress, she just had a matching black push-up bra and thong set. He brushed his lips against hers, kissed her cheek and said, "You're the most beautiful woman here! I'd be honored if you would join me in my booth." He held her hand and led her across the room to his booth. Most noticed the attractive couple and thought they made a good pair. As Susan sat and slid into Christopher's horseshoe shaped booth; her legs spread slightly exposing her upper thighs and her black thong under her short dress. She blushed as she noticed his eyes on her thighs and hers were drawn to his crotch. She noticed the outline of a huge cock running down his leg. Her mouth watered, nipples ached and pussy watered as he slid into the booth next to her. He was such a gentleman. He complimented her haircut, dress and her "dazzling" smile. They talked like best friends. The Champaign was delicious and the music perfect. She was surprised. When the band finished their set; they joined Christopher and Susan in the booth. Four large black men and a petite stunning white woman slid into the booth making for a tight seating arrangement. Susan was quietly happy that she was pressed into Christopher. He introduced the band to Susan. They were old friends and Christopher traveled the world to hear them play. He set up their current gig in Cancun and the group played at this club monthly. After a short rest, the group left to start their last set. Before leaving, Christopher had invited them to his penthouse apartment for an after-hour get together. He invited Susan also. Susan was a little disappointed. She had been entertaining a fantasy about fucking Christopher. "I guess it won't happen tonight", she thought. After the last song ended the seven friends jumped into Christopher's limo for the short ride back to the hotel. A quick elevator ride to the top floor and the group was on Christopher's terrace, drinks in hand and a joint being passed around. Susan hadn't smoked pot since her college days, but toked the joint as it was passed to her. After a few tokes, Susan was wasted. She laughed at all the jokes, but couldn't contribute to the conversation. Bruce, the bands sax player complained about a sore back. Christopher invited him to soak in his oversize hot tub. After a second of thought Bruce walked toward the water, while shedding his clothes. Susan was shocked as the now naked man climbed into the tub. No one seemed to notice and the conversation continued. The group edged their way closer to the tub, so Bruce could stay in the conversation. They soon surrounded it. The water looked inviting and without a word being said, Natalie and Stan started to undress. Christopher shrugged at Susan and everyone but Susan began undressing and climbing into the warm water of the tub. The naked Christopher walked over to Susan and whispered, "Your among friend, please join us." His rock hard cock brushed her leg as he reached for the hem of her dress and lifted the dress over her head. He gave her a quick kiss, reached around her and unclasped her bra. Last, her thong was pulled off. Christopher held her hand and walked with her into the tub. The seven resumed their talk as the warm water bubbled around them. Someone lit another joint and after Christopher took a toke, he held it to Susan's lips. She inhaled deeply and seemed to relax a bit. Two more rounds found the group stoned and uninhibited. Christopher in Cancun Christopher was still holding Susan's hand and she smiled as he secretly guided it to his rock hard cock. With her eyes closed, she gripped the largest shaft imaginable. She secretly stroked up and down the nine-inch tube. She played with plum sized head and his huge balls. His hand caressed her upper leg and she spread them slightly as his caress explored her upper thighs. She had to bite her lip to stop from moaning as he traced his finger around her bald pussy. The fingers probed her swollen lips and rubbed her very sensitive clit. She was confused when she heard a low, sexy moan. His fingers were gently fingering her cunt, she was excited beyond belief, but she new the feminine moan was not her. She opened her eyes and was shocked beyond belief. Natalie was sitting on the edge of the tub. A black man was on each side of her and each had a nipple in their mouth. A third man had his head between her spread thighs. Susan had heard about group sex, but had never been involved in anything like this. As Susan watched the foursome across from her, Christopher moved an arm over her shoulder and pulled her closer. His fingers were still playing with her pussy and her hand was full of his cock. The last band members moved next to Susan, sandwiching her. He was huge and dark as night. She watched his black hand cup her breast. He squeezed her breast and pinched her fat nipples. When Susan moaned, he pressed his fat black lips into hers and his tongue filled her mouth. The Champaign, pot and sex made her head swirl. The black stranger took her empty hand and brought it to his crotch. His cock wasn't as big as Christopher's, but it felt great. For the first time in her life, she had two cocks in her hands. Susan looked across the tub. Natalie was standing with her back to her. She was bent over and had a black cock in each hand. She would suck one cock while playing with the other. Then she would switch and suck the second, while stroking the first. The third was behind her, fucking her in a standing doggie. Susan was excited out of her mind and exploded in the first orgasm of the night. Christopher could feel her pussy clamp around his fingers as she came. "You want some dick, don't you?" She moaned a loud "Yes!" Christopher guided her so she was straddling him as he sat in the tub. He grabbed her ass cheeks and lowered her onto his mammoth cock. She let out a scream as she came and as her mouth opened, the black piano player eased his cock into her mouth. The black man grabbed a fist full of hair and used it to guide his dick in and out of her mouth. From below, Christopher fucked her like a bull. His mouth sucked her large breasts and his fingers played with the pucker of her asshole. Susan was in overload and she had cum after cum. "Her mouth is good, but I want some cunt. Lets move her around." "Sure", said Christopher, "I want her asshole." Susan had anal in the past and secretly enjoyed it, but Christopher's horse cock would kill her. Before she could protest, Christopher said to her, "I know you have enjoyed everything to this point. Just trust me and you'll enjoy the rest." He picked her off his cock, stood and sat back on the edge of the tub. He grabbed a tube of lube and coated his dick. Then he sat her back and positioned the plum head of his cock at the entrance of her ass. He winked at his black partner and nodded. The black man kneeled between her legs and began to suck her clit. Christopher whispered into Susan's ear, "He'll only stop eating your pussy, when my cock is balls deep in your in your ass." Over the next 30 minutes she had ten hard orgasms. The piano player ate her cunt; she wiggled her ass and slowly took Christopher's cock deep into her bowels. She had never been so stretched. She had never been in so much pain. She had never been so turned on. "Time for some DP," said the black man as he stood in front of her. He and Christopher held her legs obscenely wide and pushed his cock into her stretched pussy. In three hard pushes, she had a cock deep in her pussy and one in her ass. "Fuck her hard!" said Christopher. The black man was a machine and he fucked her as hard as ever, pistoning in and out of her. She started to cum and didn't stop, just reaching higher and higher levels. Her screams were constant and after twenty minutes the black piano player groaned and came deep in her pussy. Susan didn't have time to rest. Christopher moved her into a doggie position, his cock still in her ass. He started fucking her ass hard, pulling all the way out and slamming back into her bowels. Like an animal, he hammered into her and after a long hard ass fuck, shot his cum into her ass. The three sex partners looked across the tub. Natalie was on her knees. Her partners were standing over her, jerking their cocks at her face. One after the other, they shot their loads onto her smiling face. She licked up what she could, then climbed into the tub, submerged her body and cleaned herself. The band dressed and left a few minutes later, leaving Susan and Christopher alone. They finished there night together with a deep, long kiss. Christopher helped her dress and walked her to the door. "Please don't tell Laura about tonight, I want to keep it a special secret." She whispered as she walked out of the apartment. "I promise," said Christopher. "I'm leaving tomorrow morning for Connecticut, so I won't say a word." They kissed again and he watched her well-used ass walk out the door. With some quick editing, the video of Susan and Laura would be on his website before they arrived home in North Carolina. Christopher Leach Christopher Leach is a transvestite English artist whose erotic work is, at times, reminiscent in style of that of Aubrey Beardsley's art nouveau sketches and in theme to that of H. R. Giger. Many of his pen-and-ink drawings are black and white, but his work includes color sketches and some oil paintings as well. He describes his early output as including "softer, more decorative" work of "tasteful Art Nouveau Style drawings" and "tasteful nudity," and his later work as "fetish and transgendered erotic art" and as "hermaphroditic art" that features his "alter-ego Tgirl, Jojo." He mixes symbolism, surrealism, and expressionism with his distinctive decorative Art Nouveau style, having learned to mix media in creating the collages that characterized his early years' production. Leach idetifies these artists as inspirations for and influences upon his own work: L.S. Lowry, Marcel Gromaire, Raymond Bertrand, Otto Muller, George Grosz, and Ernst Fuchs. Leach's work is identified by unusual titles such as Teasel Tine and the Toy Boy, Black Forest Clinic, Where Do Dreamy Traffic Wardens Go When It Gets Wet, and Fetish Tram. They are crowded with bizarre figures--men, women, and transsexuals--who, partly or fully nude, engage in strange activities that often do not seem to have any relation to the works' titles. When they do wear clothing, the garb often comprises odd costumes. A female figure central to Happy Valley, for example, wears a bonnet, a mask with antennae which may or may not be intended to represent a butterfly; a tall, spiked collar; a bustier of sorts, made of crisscrossed laces with cutouts to expose her breasts; black gloves that rise to the middle of her biceps; a garter belt; and fancy mesh stockings. Her left arm is around the shoulders of a smaller male figure who wears dark sunglasses and a brassiere, the left strap of which is looped around his left biceps, revealing a breast, and she paints upon his bare belly while his left hand hovers before his erect penis. In Happy Valley, the mostly nude male transvestite whose belly is being painted by the lady in the mask, high spiked collar, bustier, gloves, and stockings has an erection, the glans looked like a glans, but it also resembled the cleft of a vagina. This ambiguity of male and female and of masculine and feminine is repeated throughout the drawing, as it is in many of Leach's other sketches. Vaguely penile and vaginal shapes abound, as do suggestions of disembodied buttocks which sometimes make up parts of the figures and sometimes parts of the landscape or of the buildings. Ambiguity is everywhere present, as shapes that first seem to be phallic later appear to be buttocks or breasts and vice-versa. Even inanimate objects, like the earth itself, are strangely and ambiguously sexualized, even more so than the same objects were sexualized (again, ambiguously) in Beardley's work. As in Giger' biomechanical art, human beings sometimes merge, literally, with man-made or natural objects. Leach's "surreal illustrated fantasies" of "a world of copiously-breasted sirens, latex-clad dominatrixes, and happily humping hermaphrodites" have also been compared to that of the medieval Dutch artist Hieronymus Bosch and has been declared "Definitely some of the strangest and more original erotic artwork we've seen in a while." According to Leach, his work is not intended to convey any specific message. Instead, he says, the images in his drawings "just unfold across the page like energetic surreal daydreams. . . ideas and images just weave themselves together as my libido and imagination does the thinking for me." Although Leach denies that his work has any unifying theme, one such connecting idea seems to be his work's insistence upin the unity of all things. Rather than living in a world of distinct and disassociated objects wherein there are clear-cut divisions between the objective and the subjective and among the many and varied categories of existence, Leach's art suggests that such dichotomies and classifications are artificial rather than actual or natural and that, therefore, if they are taken literally, they are false and potentially hazardous. Human figures interact with plants and inanimate objects as well as one another. In An End to Waiting, several transvestites wearing nothing but stockings are penetrated per anum by the tendrils of a flowering vine. Similarly, in Jyllinge Girl, a flower grows from the small of a back, just below a pair of legs wearing stockings; bent at the knees, the legs combine to become the forearm of a woman holding a wand. The back above the buttocks form the woman's left shoulder, which is extended straight out from her body. As the title of another work, Cello Woman, implies, a woman's upper body forms a cello. She has no legs, but is supported by a pair of bare feet that grow at the bottoms of her severely truncated thighs. Reading from a sheet of music on a stand before her, she plays the strings of herself, which emerge from her pubic region, run along the center of her midsection, and merge with the wooden neck of the instrument that rests upon her left shoulder. This image is repeated, with a variation, in If I Ruled, in which a masked, bare-breasted woman holds a cello that consists of a woman's torso; she has neither arms, legs, nor head, and her neck, greatly elongated and wooden, is the neck of the instrument. In Boy Venus 550, a pair of buttocks, a lower back clad in a corset, and a pair of upper thighs wearing stockings form the hills of the background landscape. In Joys of Gardening, a woman's body merges with the front of a building, the large front window of which is centered just below her bare breasts and, below it, the door is centered in her belly. Legless, her belly and groin, which appear to be made of brick or stone, fuse with the ground below. In the same picture, a woman's well-lashed buttocks give rise to the back of a corset that resembles the back of a chair or, perhaps, a trellis (in Leach's sketches and paintings, one object often resembles another, adding to the complexity of his "daydreams" and multiplying the ambiguity of his symbolism, the intent being, it seems, to suggest the interconnectedness of all things, natural, technological, psychological, social, sexual, and otherwise). Jojo On his Web site, Leach discusses his muse, the Tgirl whom he calls Jojo. He met her, he says, in a 1919 Pablo Picasso painting, Italian Peasants, that he studied as he tried to learn how to draw faces. His alter-ego as a transvestite, Jojo is a stand-in, as it were, for the women whom Leach lacks in his life as he maintains a bachelor's existence between periodic girlfriends "who through no real fault of their own have brought mostly heartache and loneliness." Leach admits that he is partial to young women; girls captivate him because "for me a slim teenage girl in particular can be just perfection itself." He describes women in biomechanical terms much like the images of Giger, referring to them as "A beautiful living machine with moist lips and bright eyes." All the men in his pictures, he says, are versions or images of himself: "Sometimes I was an angel, sometimes I was a figure of fetish fun: I was even a hermaphrodite with an erect ejaculating penis moving amongst the excited women like a busy humming bird. At more serious times though I was just the artist or even a fully clothed slightly bewildered voyeur." However, he also adds that "The hope for my art is that by creating beautiful images it will not only help break down sexual barriers, I also convey something very personal for others and future generations to share." Leach says that: "Artistically I am an uninhibited erotic free spirit that has no sexual preferences as I am neither man nor woman. I don't really understand it myself but I believe the male figures I create are hermaphrodite lesbian rather than gay or transsexual. But I must control my art to a degree as I leave out all the things that most disgust me like any form of real violence or abuse." At the Firenze Biennale Internazionale Dell'Arte Contemporanea in 2003, art critic John T Spike said, of Leach's 1994 drawing, A Taste of Honey: "This is erotic art. Christopher Leach has great fun doing these drawings. He is stronger in the black and white than in the coloured work. He does erotic drawings a' la Beardsley. Technically fine, he provokes and challenges with these fetishes." Leach's art has been shown at the Cannock Art Gallery (1978) (Amsterdam); at The Gallerie Erotique 'D'Lammerberch (1991); at Annecy (France); at The Torture Garden (London); and at Southampton and has been published in six counties in the following publications: Twilight (Berlin, Germany); Rouge et Noir (Nantes, France); Some Bizarre, (Stockton on Tees, UK); Unleashed (Leeds, UK); Jade, Scarborough, UK); Paramour (Cambridge MA/USA); Bitches with Whips (Seattle, USA); Redemption (Vancouver, Canada); Fullsize (Rhinefelden), Switzerland). * Bibliography http://www.christopherleach.co.uk - This is the artist's homepage, which showcases his work, contains a brief biography of his life in which he discusses his muse and technique, and mentions where his work has been shown. Christopher Leach Pt. 02 One of the first impressions (besides the perception of the surreal) that one has upon viewing the wonderful, bizarre drawings and paintings of transvestite British artist Christopher Leach is of being overwhelmed by the sheer intricacy, density, and incongruity of the works' imagery. For example, No. 129 (If I Ruled the World I'd Be Head Girl): viewing the drawing from left to right, across the top, one sees not only three figures, but the bare-breasted one on the left, who is wearing a mask, a spiked and studded collar, an open top, and stockings with open-toed sandals, has a phallus, the testicles of which are buttocks, the shaft of which forms the body of a violin, and the elongated and narrowed glans of which makes up the instrument's neck; the middle one of which, who wears biceps-length gloves, a brassiere-like top (pulled below her bosom), and fishnet stockings, and whose buttocks and breasts are displayed, seems to float against the coils of an elaborately decorated dragon; and the third one of which, who wears only stockings, leaps forward, her arms outstretched before her and her head down, looking more like a ship's figurehead than a woman, her pert breasts protruding, proudly, from her abdomen, nipples erect, the numbered dial of a telephone behind her. Below and to the right of the first figure is a huge, disembodied female face, the violin-buttocks extending out from its upper lip. A teardrop flows from the corner of the head's left eye, and a webbing of fine lines, or filaments, swoop over the bridge of the nose and across the face. To the right of this gigantic head is the merged confusion of two torsos, one showing the side of its left breast, its back, and its buttocks, while the second trunk, armless and ending at mid-thigh, shows breasts, from the front, its belly, and an engorged and rigid cock. The violin bow, held in the left hand of the violinist, points between the lips of a woman who stands at the right edge of the drawing. She wears a spiked diadem similar to the crown worn by the Statue of Liberty. From her crotch, a large, erect penis protrudes, the glans pointing into what appears to be a pair of gigantic, disembodied lips . To the left of the lips is a strange series of what appear to be airbags stacked, accordion fashion, one upon the other, the top one of which forms a pair of breasts, the upper portions of which taper into a timepiece fronted by a silver crescent. Following the penis to the accordion-like set of airbags, the eye encounters the erect penis that juts from the groin of the corseted torso that joins the smaller trunk comprised of breasts, back, and buttocks, the tip of which points toward a spread pudendum situated below the thighs of the first figure on the left of the drawing, with which the eye started its roughly circular journey around the drawing surface. All these images are crowded together--so much so, in fact, that some of them merge with another or with others and all overlap one or more of the work's other pictures. The title is curious, because the picture shows four female figures and a fifth figure that is a hybrid of two other incomplete forms. Three of the heads are conspicuously large. Which, if any, is the "head woman" of the drawing's title? The answer is, like so much of the rest of Leach's oeuvre, vague--deliberately ambiguous, one assumes. The question as to which of the figures is the "head girl" is made even more perplexing by the fact that several of them are equipped with either a penis or a phallic substitute for the virile member. No. 92 (The Joys of Gardening) is also a fabulous work of art, just as complicated in its way as Head Girl is in its way. Again, the viewer is apt to feel overwhelmed by the profusion of incongruous images, but the trick to viewing Leach's art seems to be to let the eye wander where it pleases until it has taken in all there is to see (it won't, because there is always something else to see, something that escaped the initial survey, but one does tend to suppose that, at some point, he or she has seen all there is to see), and then to take a slower second look, noting one's observations. For me, this approach yields the results detailed below. Unlike Head Girl, .which is in black and white, The Joys of Gardening is in color; it appears that the artist used chalk to color this drawing or, perhaps, watercolor paint. The work shows three female--or, at least, feminine--figures, a female torso, a gigantic pair of buttocks, and a pair of breasts out of which rise two circumcised penile shafts. The first figure looks into the center of the picture from its left edge. She wears an outfit that only a fashion designer (or a transvestite artist) could imagine: a high collar; a blue-green-and-yellow-striped, tennis-style top; and white shorts with a thick, pleated waistband. The yellow straps of the top are down, over her upper arms, and her full, light-brown breasts are fully exposed, showing stiff nipples surrounded by smooth areolas. She holds something that looks similar to a rug beater. To her right, a redheaded woman seems (at first glance) to be seated upon a stretch of green lawn, a pair of sunglasses perched above her brow and a diamond necklace draped over her upper chest. Her breasts are bare, and between them and down her belly are an arched window above a balcony, below which is the front door to the living building that she personifies. What appears to be sequins, one discovers after making the association of her body with a building, are really bricks, just as the biceps-length glove on her right arm is decorated, as it were, with a column of windows. She is not seated, as one first supposes, for, from the waist down, she merges with the ground, having no lower body at all. Behind her are treetops resembling lemon and lime tufts of cotton candy and a chimney. Between two huge arches of a stone bridge in the background, expanses of blue sky resemble huge bubbles shining with reflected light. To her right, seated astride a pair of big, buoyant breasts that belong to a headless and armless female torso, is a harlequin-like female--or feminine--figure. Slender, with a fountain of platinum blonde hair, she is dressed in a corset that is laced at the side and in a pair of fishnet stockings. Her hips, groin, and buttocks are bare, allowing her slender, erect cock to stand upright before her tummy. She reaches out, but her lower arms and hands are nonexistent, seeming to have disintegrated in midair. Behind her, to the right, a pair of gigantic buttocks, striped from the marks of a cane, form the seat of a chair, the back of which is the framework of a wooden corset. The lawn upon which the building-woman seems to sit (at first glance) turns out to be a brook, the edge of which overflows the breasts upon which the slender hermaphrodite is seated. A disembodied pair of huge lips seem to kiss the torso's right breast as it rears heavenward, alongside its also-up-tilted twin.. Below the breasts is a pulled-down bra festooned with strings that resemble vines. A string bikini bottom covers the torso's buttocks, but not the pudendum, the hairless cleft of which shows that someone has shaved the figure's groin. Since she lacks arms (and a head), it obviously wasn't the figure herself who debilitated her own pussy, but someone else, the identity of whom remains another of Leach's many marvelous, incongruous mysteries. A pair of lovely stockings completes the attire of this incomplete figure. Inside a half-folded image that could be that of a leaf, a caterpillar, labia, or a combination of two (or all) of these items are two doll-like, miniature female figures of slender build. To the right of this image are a pair of breasts, the nipple of the right one of which juts, phallic-like, from its orb. The other breast lacks a nipple altogether. The round mounds also resemble testicles, which helps to create the illusion that they are parts of the privates formed by the corseted penis that juts from the left breast of the breasts-testes combination and the unambiguously erect and circumcised prick that extends from its twin on the right. From the tip of the right penis, instead of semen, a bud sprouts, blossoming into immediate fullness of life. Not all of Leach's art is as intricate as Head Girl and The Joys of Gardening, but it would be misleading to suggest that more than a few examples are relatively simple. However, No. 11484 (Cello Woman), is one work that is simpler than most of Leach's drawings and paintings. In full color, it is a striking work, its effect stemming from its metaphorical character. The single figure, a redheaded woman clad in a light smock and matching trousers, sits, barefoot, on a throw rug, playing her cello as she reads music from a sheet displayed on a stand. Lined up behind her are a pair of houseplants. The foliage of the one to her right (the viewer's left) looks like a clump of seaweed that might easily wave in the breeze, while the one on the other side of her has more solid-looking tendrils of wood upon which are rubber tree-like leaves of a dark green color. The pot is decorative, with red-orange bands alternating with broad, dark green stripes. The bands of color are themselves decorated with green diamonds. The plants and the pot, like the woman's red hair and her blue smock and trousers add color to the painting, but what stands out most is the instrument she plays. It is she herself! The strings of the cello are anchored in her groin, pass up, over her tummy, through the steg that is set in the middle of her belly, and between her bare breasts, where they extend over and along the wooden neck (griffbret) of the instrument that rests against her left shoulder. In stroking the strings with her bow, she is, in effect, playing herself, for she and her instrument literally are one. This painting demonstrates the truth of the notion that the artist puts him- or herself into his or her work. Leach's work is masterful, intriguing, and wonderful, mixing sex and gender as easily as it combines nature and technology, breasts and male genitals, flesh and brick, and organic and inorganic materials. The world, as men and women usually discern it, is full of opposites and opposition, but these polarities are due more to the human mind, Leach's work suggests, than to nature itself. Opposites need not conflict, his art implies. They can be reconciled, just as ambiguities can be clarified. Even if one is a hermaphrodite or a transvestite or a transsexual, it is not he or she who is out of synch with the universe, but human beings' dichotomous separations of reality into this and that--for example, into male or female--when a whole array of other potentialities and possibilities exist between such somewhat arbitrary extremes. That's the serious point, perhaps, that Leach's art makes--or one of them, at any rate. However, it's the beautiful and creative way that his images make this point that transcends the ordinary and makes his work extraordinary. View it, enjoy it, appreciate it, love it. UPDATE: Since I write this review, the artist himself, Christopher Leach, added the following note in an email that he sent to me. Hi Cal Y. Pygia, thanks for sending me the transcript of your latest review. You obviously get a great deal of enjoyment studying the detail trying to make sense of it all. What I find fascinating is the way others read my work as no doubt you find meanings that weren't intended and no doubt miss more important things I was perhaps subconsciously wanted to say. For your interest, in 'Head Girl' the figure on the left is very much the dominant one and she's very much the 'master of ceremonies'. She could even be a circus ringmaster or the conductor of a sexual orchestra. Often I am represented in my work and in this case it's the figure with outstretched arms wanting to be loved and enjoyed as a woman. Obviously 'Cello Woman' is an oil but my graphic colour work is done with pen and watercolour inks. However the softer colours fade and having made xerox copies I've had to sharpen and enhance this one with pencil reworking it. It is a big favourite of mine and the colour really brings it to life. In this instance I'm the figure in the rubber corset of my tetish party days enjoying the erotic garden, one of my recurring favourite themes. The woman on the left is busying herself with a garden rake. You might wonder at how I find my titles. Well I work my best when I drift off into my imagination and I'm not trying to think too hard about it and one of the distractions is thinking what I'm going to call it. Often the title only comes almost as I'm finishing it off which means there might be the addition of lets says a clock or some falling snow. Rather than putting over a conscious message I see my drawings as a puzzle or game of chess. As I solve the drawing I create more than just the composition. A few do readily find the right name like 'Hermaphrodite Hockey', 'Teasel Tina' and 'The Swiss cheese Girl' or perhaps even inspire the creation. Others I finish untitled which means annoyingly they remain unfinished till I find one. They are just as important as the drawing and often the hardest bit to resolve. So I think it over and then maybe have to hear the right song or pass a road name I can wrap the fantasy around and it comes together. So there's a bit more for you which no doubt will help you understand it. I'm sure you won't though as my work comes from somewhere else and I don't even know how sometimes. Christopher the Vampire 01 "Hello dearest Annalise, I am writing this from distant lands. Where the trees touch the sky and the sunshine never ends. But all of this beauty could never compare to your face. Your crystal blue eyes. Your raven wing colored hair..." This is as far as I could read before I burst into crimson colored tears. She was my everything. And I let her slip through the cracks of mortality. I wanted to hold her once again. I needed to smell her honey and jasmine scented skin. I needed to touch her supple satin skin. And feel her warmth next to me as I feigned sleep I could never have her back and I knew it. I can't help but to force myself into this hole of self pity. I just could not let her become the monster that I am. I am a murderer, a demon, I have even been called Satan himself. I find this a laughable notion. For I have met Satan. He is an angel with no free will. Jealous of humans. And still a follower of God. Believe you me. I am far worse than Satan. He only tempts, and I can bend the will of the strongest men. My name is Christopher. I am a Vampire, and I need to tell you the tale of my heart break and redemption. As I was walking down the streets of Nashville, alone in the dark, I caught the attention of a few whores. They looked sickly and cold. I felt something resembling pity, although it felt more like disgust. Possibly a mix of the two, its been so long since I have felt anything but loss and blood lust. I decided to have a little fun tonight although I would come to regret it by dawn. I signaled the pair into a dark ally, I knew this would satisfy my blood lust, I haven't been able to satisfy the lust I had in my loins in quite a while. I asked them to strip on the spot. The first girl barely 18 with the sickly sweet smell of drugs coursing through her veins asked "Are you sure you have the money for the both of us?" In an overly sultry tone. "We will negotiate later. Now off with your clothes whores." I said in a fierce needy tone. They both stripped and showed their wares. The second girl was maybe 19, with a small patch of pubic hair right at the cuff of her womanly lips, said "You can fuck us, after we get the cash." I flashed them the unnecessary money, their eyes lit up with glee at the thought of such a stroke of luck. I almost felt bad that they wouldn't even have a chance to touch the money. I ordered the first girl down on her knees. She started playing with my zipper giggling in a fake girlish way. She pulled out my flaccid member and stared to suck it enthusiastically. The second girl rubbed her perky breasts on my light jacket. I could feel her hard nipples pulse with excitement. My cock hardened and the second girl sank to her knees with the first one. They both toyed with my cock for a while, until the first girl said she wanted to ride. I had no opposition. I laid down on the pavement in that dark ally and let them fuck my still body. The girl on my cock faked an orgasm in thought that it would hurry and speed my climax along. I willed my cock to spew its dead seed into her womb with little more than a grunt. Rolling her eyes she said "your turn Bri, he's still hard." I said "There will be no need for that." In the blink of an eye I had the two girls pinned in a matter of seconds. I was finally able to fuck them in the way that I wanted. I plunged my hard throbbing cock in and out of the first whores cunt with so much vigor and force that her vaginal walls were charing. It was so surreal. Like I was there but only in spirit, not body. I knew my real climax would kill her. With laughter that only comes with the blood lust I came, so hard that it ripped through her cervix and my dead seed came to rest somewhere in the trollops chest cavity. Then, with much delight, I tore in to the first girls flesh as easily as tearing a piece of wet paper. She was drained in a matter of seconds. And the second girl had but a second to scream as I ended her life as well. I find little joy killing. But it's the only way to soothe the demon inside. Christopher the Vampire 02 The guilt had already set in. I had snuffed out these lives. I have been a monster for so long now. So many lives are gone because of me. I have lived for so long yet I still fear death. I had to dispose of these whores' bodies. As I hoisted them both on my shoulders, I looked for an abandoned building. Not hard being in the bad part of Nashville. Walking a short distance there was one, the door crumbled like a worn piece of styrofoam under my boot. Shuffling down toward the basement I heard the faint whisper of a heartbeat. Not from the whores but that of a homeless vagrant. "Oh, joy, more vermin to eat." I thought. I found the basement and dumped their bodies in the darkest corner and went in search of the small heartbeat. When I got close to the sound, the person bolted. I laughed because those human muscles are no match for mine. I snatched the filthy human and slammed it to the floor. With a pained huff the human said "Please." How I love to hear them beg. I got closer to the face and almost cried with fear. This human looked just like Annalise! "What is your name vagrant!" I shouted Sobbing, the woman said "Zyn." When she said it it sounded like zen. I jerked her off of the floor and swiftly whisked her into the night. She would not stop screaming and wiggling. Did this woman not know that I was taking her to safety? "Hush, now woman. You are coming to my home." I angrily whispered. "Please, just let me go! I saw those women you dumped! Is that going to happen to me?" She sobbed. "No, you are coming to my home, you will be fed and bathed and safe." I replied "Why?" She half sobbed and half yelled. "Because, what I say goes. Always." The authority in my tone let her know I was not joking. With my mind I willed her to be silent and fall into a deep sleep. When we arrived at my home, which is little less than a mansion on the outskirts of Hermitage, I started stripping her. I would not have these rags in my home. I flitted as fast as I could to the master bedrooms' bathroom. I filled the tub as quickly as I could. Before setting her in the tub I laid her limp body on the floor so I could get the rest of her clothes off of her. I unsnapped her bra and shredded her panties, and rubbed my hands up and down her soft body, pausing not so briefly at her breasts. So big and supple. So mouthwateringly pale like fresh cream. She looked just like Annalise. It was almost too much. I was rock hard from simply touching her. I picked her up like she was little more than a rag doll and gently laid her into the water. I flitted to the cupboard to fetch the soap, washing cloths, and jasmine scented oil I used to torture myself into guilt every now and again. I was glad to have held on to it. Now not only will she look like Annalise she will smell like her too. I poured the oil into the water and used my hand to mix it about. Dunking the cloth into the water, I skimmed her upper thigh, it felt so good so smooth. I slid my hand further up and stroked her pouty pussy lips. I delved deeper to feel the silken warmth of her womanhood. I could just imagine how good her wet pussy would feel sliding up and down my cock. I had to mentally shake myself. She wouldn't like me playing with her unconscious body. I washed her thoroughly and pulled the plug on the tub. Pulling a towel from the rack, I wrapped her clean soft body in the clean cloth. I got up off of the floor a little too fast, and she stirred. I touched her mind and she fell back into her sleep. I walked into the bedroom and sat on the corner of my bed with her still sleeping in my arms. She looked so peaceful, I stroked her cheek. I had to rearrange her on my lap because she was resting uncomfortably on my rock hard erection. I held her for what seemed like minutes but was hours. The dawn was soon approaching. I am so old that I don't need to sleep, but I cannot go outside. I am very photosensitive. The sun leaves rashes and boils on my skin. To newborns the sun is a death sentence. And they sleep. That is such a waste. I spend my time reading, and trying to learn all that I can with my time. My time here is infinite. For eons I waited. Doing nothing but sitting like a statue. Letting the years pass by. My 6'2" frame never changing. I have dark hair and golden skin as though I had a suntan. Thanks to my middle eastern heritage. But the quirk that called to my maker, was my brilliant blue eyes. No one had that color, but me. And Amun was dazzle by them. But the blue of my eyes could never compare to Annalises' eyes. Picture a summer day, a cloudless day. The warm yet cool color of the happiness and joy. Two feelings that I haven't felt in so long. The dawn had come and gone, it was dusk now. It was her time to wake. She opened her eyes, let them focus, and then she screamed. A horrifying blood curdling scream. It tore at my heart. "Calm yourself, Zyn." I said in the most soothing tone I could muster. "Please," she begged. "Let me go." "This is your home now, be calm." I said. "I don't have any money, but I can give you my body." She whispered with tears streaming down her face. Christopher the Vampire 03 "Zyn, please don't do that." I said as my heart sank. "Then why am I here?"she whispered. Her voice full of fear. I could not tell her the truth. I could not tell her that she resembled my love Annalise so closely it almost brought me to tears just being in the same room as her. "Zyn, all you need to know is your safe and you are warm. You don't have to worry about food or a place to sleep." I truthfully said. "Why?" Zyn asked. "Because I said so!" I picked her up off of my lap and tossed her on the bed with little effort. The towel fell from her body and revealed her luscious breasts. I could not think of that right now. The master bedroom had no windows for her to escape from. I stormed out of the room and locked it from the outside. My frustration getting the better of me. I flitted into the kitchen and started making one of Annalise's favorite breakfasts. Cooking, even though I couldn't eat, has always calmed me, I was cooking Oatmeal with cinnamon and toast with marmalade, with apple juice. Not a hard feat to master, the meal was finished in minutes. I put the food on a wooden bed tray and walked back to the room. I knocked on the door and I heard her cry out in pain. I busted the door down, it was in splinters, and the food tray crashed to the floor and the plates broke. I saw her in the bathroom. She was bloody. I almost couldn't comprehend what had just happened. She was still clutching onto the straight razors that I kept for appearances. I rushed over to her. The blood was pouring from the deep vertical cuts on her wrists. I was so close to letting the bloodlust take over. If I were a century younger I would have killed her on the spot. With all the courage I could muster I picked her up and took her to the sink to rinse the blood off. She was fading fast and in my soul I knew she wouldn't last long enough for me to take her to a hospital. I did what came to my mind first. I bit into my own wrist and let the thick blood ooze from the punctures. I put my wrist up to her mouth, and with all the strength she had she tried to wriggle away. I pushed my wrist up to her lips. She latched on like a babe to a nipple. She drank like it was her last drink. My head became light, and I willed her to let my arm go. She wouldn't turn. She would just heal. The slits healed as fast as they were made. She cried. I held her and whispered near tears myself "Why, Anna? Why?" Over and over again. "My name isn't Anna, and what are you?" She slurred. The tears being replaced with a lustful grin. The high of vampire blood to a human is much like being drunk, with a few exceptions. The first exception is that instead of putting a damper on the sex drive it kicks it into overdrive. I could already smell her sex dampening. My mind was at war with its self. I wanted to fuck her so bad, the sweet and tangy smell emanating from her nether region was intoxicating, but I knew if I had her, I would kill her. I am too strong for mortals. "What are you?" She repeated. "I am your savior. I am the one who wants to pull you from the gutter, I am the one who wants to help you get your life together." I said all of this in truth. She craned her neck to get a better view of me. And with a suddenness that shocked me, she planted a wet kiss on my lips. Her lips were so soft and tasty. I could feel the remnants of her tears on my cheeks. I was rock hard again. I chastised myself. This is not the time nor the place for this. "Zyn, please don't." I said "Why not? I can feel that you want me." She said as she grabbed my crotch. What kind of demon was this? Annalise never did anything like this. I shook myself mentally. This is not Annalise. This is a human that merely looked like her. It all became suddenly, violently clear. I would have to win Zyn's heart, and her love. "Would you like to go to the kitchen, for something to eat?" I asked hoping to diffuse the situation. "No let's stay here" she said with the sultry tone wonton women have. It was almost too much to bear. I leaned down and kissed her cheek tenderly. "Food first, Zyn." I said with a pleading tone. She gracefully arose in all her naked glory and said "Lead the way." The shattered plates and wasted food on the floor forgotten. I dusted this thought off, the maid would get it. My cock hurt with need. The sway of her hips as she moved enticed everything male inside of me. "What a shapely ass she has" I thought. I smirked. What a male thought. I willed my body to cooperate and I willed my cock to soften, I could feel an ache begin. I needed blood and release. We arrived in the kitchen, and I asked, "Would you like oatmeal and toast?" "I would like much more than food." She grinned. "Zyn, drop it."I was becoming so angry. "Not until you fuck me." She said with a lusty giggle. I couldn't take it anymore I had had enough. She just wasn't going to listen to me. I needed to make her see that I was not some mortal to be fucked with. Christopher the Vampire 04 I couldn't take it anymore I had had enough. She just wasn't going to listen to me. I needed to make her see that I was not some mortal to be fucked with. I calmly set the pot that was in my hand down, and quickly as a blur I picked her up and flew out of the house. All the while willing myself not to just drop her, and forget about Her, Annalise, and the whole masochistic trifle mortals call love. I slowed when I saw the river, the Cumberland to be exact. The demon in me howled to just drop the bitch and kill more whores. But I couldn't do that, I was too soft and I knew it just as well as the demon that beat at the fragile bars inside of my mind knew. I gently descended upon the muddy banks of the vile repugnant watercourse, and began dragging Zyn along the dirty shore. "Where are we going?" implied Zyn. "Do you ever stop asking questions you harlot?" I quipped with more malice than I had meant. She whimpered, I could smell the fear returning to her veins. My blood was diminishing in its potency. I really love the smell of raw fear and hers was like water to my parched demon. I let him surface for just an instant. It felt good to let my face twist and wrinkle into a predatory snarl. I clutched her arm tight and pulled her to face me. "Your fear dances sweetly on my palate Zyn, I wonder how it would taste as your hot blood drained down into me, filling me with your essence."I purred "Please at least let me know the name of my murderer." she said brazenly her courage striking the demon aback. "Oooooh, Little Zyn acting brave, this warms my cold long dead heart." the demon barked. "Pl- please?" Zyn's voice cracked. "Christopher." I said coming back to myself, and reigning the demon back under my control. Walking took little effort for me, but Zyn seemed to be sinking with every step, the weight of her morality weighing on more than just the loamy soft noxious bank. She whimpered with every step, in pain it seemed, my heart felt pity for her. With a sigh and a light longing caress of her face, I swept her into my arms. She all but melted to my chest. Making my loins ache, I wondered how long I could keep this up. A fresh, sweet,disease free, not so innocent feast was in my arms. I wanted to pin her to the ground and eat her sweet pussy, and fill all of my senses with her. Then, I wanted to crawl up her sweat slicked body and make her taste herself on me. So many images flashed through my mind I became dizzy. The sooner I changed her the sooner I could act out all of my sick deeds. All the chains, clamps, phalluses' and plugs. All of the leather kissing her flesh inflaming it with the blood of a fresh kill. My demon purred and basked in the icy chill of my immoral thoughts. "Zyn, this is what you will become within a years time." I spoke gently to her, gesturing to an emaciated half alive woman, struggling to pull in the next breath. Her exhales coming in sharp ragged moans of pain. Almost as if she were sobbing. "I see, but why are you showing me this Christopher?" Zyn said in a whisper. "Because, Zyn, my wish is not to kill you but to give you everlasting life. But it also comes with a price. A price so deep, that you may never forgive me if I give what I am to you." My voice never wavering as I bent to the vagrant woman. I scooped up the frail woman and bent her neck and swept her greasy locks to the side. I looked Zyn right in the eyes as my fangs elongated and sank them into the uncared-for woman's neck. I willed her to enjoy it, the vagrant in my arms put up no struggle, no fight and no sound was uttered from her ragged body, I could feel Zyns eyes on me, questioning everything she knew to be right in this world. I could feel her faith of the Lord God fading, and it felt wonderful. I hoped she was coming one step closer to me and my eternity. Christopher with a Vengence Swartz, Bond & Lewis is a fixture in West Hartford Center. The 78-year-old jewelry store was the oldest in greater Hartford area. Their customers included the beautiful people. Customers who demanded top quality jewelry and service and are willing to pay for it. Forty-six year old Gloria Bond owned the store. She took over the day-to-day operations after her husband died. Together with her son's Michael and Joe, the store was still the best in the area. Christopher was in his back office and waiting for Gloria. They had worked hard together over the last number of years as leaders of the business community to revitalize downtown West Hartford. Their efforts had been hugely successful. In addition, Gloria was one of Christopher's sluts. They met once or twice a month and each time Christopher fucked her mouth, cunt and asshole. She always left his trendy salon smelling like sex and a very well satisfied woman. What Mrs. Bond didn't know was that Christopher taped their sessions and showed them on his website "married fuck sluts." His website customers loved her. She came to him as a well dressed, sophisticated, older women. Each time she slowly transformed into a sweaty, begging slut. She turned Christopher on and apparently did the same to his web customers. Today, Christopher was as angry. Gloria had been running her mouth off. Two nightclubs had opened recently in West Hartford Center. They were upscale clubs and added a needed variety to downtown. Gloria had complained about "a certain element" now coming to "her downtown". Everyone knew "certain element" this was code word for "black". Christopher hated racists and was worried that her comments might spread. The West Hartford merchants had worked too hard to build up the area and this loud mouth wasn't going to start a downfall. Tonight she would get a little black loving. Actually, a whole lot of black loving. There was a short knock on Christopher's office door and Gloria stepped in and closed the door behind her. God she is hot. She stands 5'5" with bleach blond hair piled into a tight bun. She's dressed in a navy pinstriped suit and white blouse. The skirt ended just above her knees. The suit is tailored to perfection. Her 38" x 25" x 36" body is showcased in the suit. Very professional, very sophisticated and very sexy. She also wore her trademark pearls. In her ears, and around her neck and wrists. Best of all, she had that twinkle in her eyes. They had some business to discuss, but she new she was going to be fucked hard tonight. Her pussy had been wet all day in anticipation. "Its good to see you darling", he said as he got up, walked around his desk and kissed her cheek. She looked into his eyes and kissed him again hard, her tongue jammed into his mouth. His hands made there way to her bottom and squeezed her ass cheeks. He pulled her close grinding his hardening cock into her pussy. He kissed her again, and then whispered, "Let's get our business over with so I can enjoy your killer body." They sat in leather armchairs around his small round conference table and she handed him a file. As they started their discussions, he could tell that Gloria was distracted by the sounds coming from his computer. After a few short minutes, when her distraction turned to intrigue, he whispered, "Sorry baby. I've been so horny thinking about you, I had to switch on my favorite porn website. Let me go turn it off." She reached over and kissed him again. "That's so wicked. Lets go watch it together. We can finish this work another time." He guided her around his desk and pulled her onto his lap. He pulled her lips to his and there tongues danced with a real urgency. He quickly found her hard nipple and squeezed. She moaned loudly into his mouth. "This is my favorite part," he said, indicating the movie on his computer screen. She turned to watch a sexy blond bent over an office desk. A man with a huge cock was fucking a blonde's ass. She couldn't believe that such a small woman could fit such a huge cock into her back hole. "Suck my cock slut," said a voice that was oddly familiar. Gloria watched in horror as the movie showed an image of her being lifted off the desk by her hair. The man in the movie spun her around and jammed his cock down her throat. Tears were in her eyes as she chocked on his cock. When he finally pulled his dick free, he sprayed his load of cum all over her face. The camera pulled away and the very satisfied face of Christopher appeared. His last words to the kneeling Gloria were, "Keep me hard slut, and there's a lot more to come." Gloria's speechlessness turned to blinding anger as Christopher reached around her to turn off the computer. She reared back off his lap and slapped his smiling face. If possible her anger increased as his smile widened even more. "How could you do this to me, you fucking asshole." "Easy," he answered, "lots of money." She slapped his face again, jumped off his lap and walked quickly to the door, cursing him the whole way. "If you leave this office, a copy of this movie will be sent to your sons, your customers, Rabbi Jacobson and the membership at the country club." The threat stopped her with one hand on the door. Looking over her shoulder at him, she asked, "What do I have to do to make this stop." "Gloria, I've been troubled by your racist comments over the last few weeks. You can't be allowed to continue. I'm going to teach you a lesson tonight." "Please," she begged, "I've learned my lesson, just let me go home." "Not a chance baby. I've got an event filled night planned for my favorite slut. Come over here and stand in front of my desk." She hesitated and then did as she was told. "What's the worst that could happen?" she wondered. He is a great lover. She would work on a plan to get even, tomorrow. For tonight, she would enjoy his cock. As she stood before him, he reached into a desk and took out a switchblade knife. He placed it in the middle of the desk. He walked around and stood behind her, his hard cock pressed into her skirt-covered ass. "Put you hands on the desk and spread your legs. If you move, I'll hurt you". He could feel her body tremble as he reached up and undid the bun of hair. He ran his hands through it as it tumbled to her upper back. He reached around, picked up the knife and pushed the bottom. A gleaming five-inch blade sprang open in front of her face. "Don't move a muscle, I'm going to undress you." Using the knife he cut along the seams of her skirt, jacket and blouse until they were a small pile of ruined cloth on the floor. He left her thigh high stocking in place, but cut the side of her g-string panties and hacked off her bra. She was now naked and her hands never left the top of his desk. All her clothes were ruined and lay at her feet. He took the knife and threw it into the corkboard behind his desk. He heard her sniffle in fear and that turned him on. His hands grabbed her sagging tits and squeezed hard. She was used to rough play, but this hurt a lot. When she started to complain, he slapped the side of her head and told her to shut up. He continued to maul her tits and moved one hand between her legs. She was soaked and groaned as three fingers easily slid into her pussy. As he fingered her cunt, he undid his belt and dropped his pants around his ankles. His thick 9" club was ready and he stuffed it into her hard. He grabbed her hips and started a fast hard fuck. She was pretending to be mad, but he could tell that Gloria was enjoying herself. "Good," he thought, "things are going to get ugly, fast." "On your knees." he commanded as he grabbed a fist full of hair and pulled her off the desk and onto the floor. She struggled into the proper position, opened her mouth wide and took his club to the root in the first swallow. "To bad she is going to get ruined tonight," he thought, "She's such a talented slut." He throat fucked her until he was ready to cum, then pulled out and sprayed her face with cum. "Don't wipe it up, just leave it", he ordered. He walked over to his office couch, undressed completely and sat down. "Get over her and make me hard", he ordered. She was completely submissive now. She crawled to him and started to suck his cock and balls and like a well-trained slut, she tongue fucked his asshole. He never got completely soft and was soon hard and ready to go. "Look into my eyes." he ordered. When their eyes met, he instructed her, "Stand up, turn around and work my cock into your asshole." Over the last year, he had turned her into an anal freak. She smiled as his cock popped from her mouth. She turned around and he spread her cheeks wide exposing her brown hole. She reached between her legs and grabbed his cock, then squatted and sat back onto his tool. She had to work, but slowly his cock disappeared into her tight anus. No matter how many times he stretched her, her asshole was as tight as a virgin. She bottomed out with a groan and leaned back, her back into his chest. She just sat there, her bowels stretched, legs spread wide and let him play with her clit. He could feel her squirm around and new he was working her good. "Are you ready for a surprise baby?" "Oh God, just keep ass fucking me!" she begged. "Tell me, you want a surprise." he continued as he cruelly twisted a nipple. "Aaaahhhh!" she screams, "Ok, what's the surprise?" He smiled to himself and called out, "Come on in Ralph." The office door opened and in walked the Reverend Ralph Jackson. Gloria screamed and tried to escape, but Christopher held her tight. His dick in her ass and his arms wrapped under her knees, spreading her legs obscenely wide. Her cunt was open to the world. Ralph was a huge black man, standing 6'3" and weighing 260lbs. "Hurry up Ralph, this slut needs some black dick." Ralph was a man of few words, but great action. He undressed quickly and soon stepped between her spread legs, his angry 8" cock as hard as a rock. Ralph grabbed her hair and pulled her forward, guiding his cock into her mouth. "I'm doing you a favor bitch, I'm letting you wet me up before I fuck your pussy. Can't wait to double fuck this rich white slut," Ralph said half to himself. He pulled his cock from her mouth, pushed her into Christopher chest and pressed into her pussy. She screamed as he drove into her. Inch by inch, he pressed in. Both men held her legs open. Ralph started to fuck her at 4 inches. He pulled out two and pushed in five and continued until he was balls deep. The black man sweated like a pig. His sweat was running off his huge frame and covering the socialite. It felt like she was in a shower. She was moaning like a whore and every few minutes would scream in orgasm. "No more, please!" she panted but they just kept fucking her. When they tired of this position, Ralph picked her off Christopher and turned her around. She now faced him and Christopher guided his cock into her, this time deep in her pussy. He pulled her forward and started chewing on her swollen nipples. She knew what was coming next as Ralph pulled her ass cheeks apart. He jammed his cock into her cunt next to Christopher and together the double fucked her pussy. Ralph then pulled out and pushed into her ass. Gloria was beyond pain and was out of control. She just had to endure the next hour until they were worn out. It ended sooner than she thought. Pulling out of her pussy and ass, Christopher ordered her to kneel on the floor. Together they jerked off, both launching streams of cum onto her face. "Use your fingers and eat our cum," Christopher ordered and they laughed as she ate their cum. "Get dressed and get the fuck out of my sight," he yelled at her. "My clothes are ruined, how am I going to get home?" He went to his closet and took out a worn UCONN Basketball t-shirt and tossed it to her. She pulled the shirt over her head. It barely covered her ass. " I can't go out dressed in this shirt, at least not alone." "Would you like a ride home?" asked Christopher. "Please, I'll do anything," she begged. "You'll get a ride home, if you agree to fix me up with five married sluts from the country club. They must be attractive and they must be horny sluts. If you agree, you'll get a ride home." With her eyes looking down at the floor she said a quite, "ok". Christopher walked up to a totally humiliated Gloria. He kissed her gently on the cheek and said "ok sweetheart, we have a deal. You get a ride home and I get five of your friends to fuck and videotape for the website. I've taped our date tonight. If you back out, the tape goes out to your family and friends. Do you understand?" Again she weakly nodded. He lifted her chin, looked into your eyes and gave her the sweetest, most dazzling smile. He kissed her mouth and led her to the door of his office. She thought he would drive her home, but as he opened his office door and led her too the reception area, she saw to her horror that five young black men were sitting around. "Guys, this is Gloria. Would you mind giving her a ride home? She screamed as the boys started to their feet. "No, you can't do this!" Christopher wrestled a ball gag into her mouth, and cuffed her hands behind her back. "Guys, you have directions to her house and a key to her front door. You can leave her after you have each cum in her mouth, cunt and asshole. Do you understand? They all nodded as Christopher handed over the key to the handcuff. "And Gloria, I expect a call by noon tomorrow with the name of my first new slut." He watched as they led Gloria into the back alley and into the passenger seat of her Jaguar. He was smiling because he had wired Gloria's home with video cameras. A tape of her black gangbang would be on the web by tomorrow morning. Christopher "See you later." He waved. It was the first full day I hadn't thought about my family, and now I was alone. Then I was saddened by the fact that I wasn't thinking about my family. And that somehow that was bad on my part, that I was forgetting them. But I kept going back to him, and our conversation the night before. I really did love him, and I wanted to be with him. I thought about jumping in the car and going down there, but then, I didn't want to seem needy. Who does that? Or maybe they do now. I was so confused. Being out of the dating world you don't keep track of the rules. I was pretty sure that if you say the three little words, you are dating. I was finishing up dishes from left overs when I heard the doorbell. It was Christopher. ""I decided later should be sooner." And he walked in and kissed me. I kissed back. I was so glad to see him. "Just cleaning up, can I make ya something?" "No, just you." He said. I kissed him again, hard. I never wanted anything so badly, as I wanted him right there. I stared to lead him upstairs when he took control. Pulling my by the arm, he ran up the stairs. When we got into the bedroom, he moved me to the foot of the bed, facing the bed, and held my arms down. He started kissing my neck, then reached up and started undoing the buttons on my shirt. As kissed on my neck and ear lobes, he pulled my shirt off. I could then feel his strong hands on my chest. He rubbed slowly, up and down my chest and abs, still sucking and kissing my neck and chewing in my ear lobes. Every time I reached up to respond to his touches, he placed my hands back to my side. He never said a word, but after two tries, I figured I would leave him do his thing, and let him move me as needed. He was rubbing and squeezing my chest and nipples as he started kissing down my back, I felt his hot breath, and his lips on my back, and it sent a shiver down my whole body. It is an experience I had never felt before, and I started getting goose bumps all over. As he made his way down my back, he started unbuckling my belt. He got my pants undone, but and pulled them down, I stepped out of them and he smacked my ass. OK, leave every movement up to him. Got it. The sting faded as I felt his lips through the cloth kiss my ass, and then my thighs. Another shiver as he touched parts of my body with tender kisses that have never felt anyone's touch there before. We went back up around the top of my waist band, and started licking as he slowly lowered the band past my cheeks. He then squeezed and molded my ass as he licked and kissed. He put his hand upon the center of my back and pushed while keeping his other hand at my navel. I bent over as he gently nudged me, and put my hands on the bed as he continued playing with my cheeks, kissing and licking closer and closer to my hole. It was driving me wild waiting for him to touch my anus with his tongue. I started to move toward his mouth, and he smacked me harder again. I guess I am a slow learner, but that was it. He pulled my underwear all the way to my ankles, where I let them be, as h continued kissing me all over except the center, his one hand still firmly ensconced right above my pubes, holding me in place. My rod was totally stiff, and rubbing the back of his hand as it twitched in excitement. I felt his hot breath on my hole as he finally flicked his tongue on my waiting hole. I was in agony waiting for him to plunge in, but he kept the slow tease going. His hands moved away and I heard his rustling behind me, but I didn't look back as I wanted to spare another smack. He resumed what he was doing and I felt his bare knee press inside my legs urging them to spread. I obliged and that was when he went in full tongue. I reached back and pulled my ass open further, urging him deeper inside me. He explored my insides as deep he could and I just stood there, moaning. He kept it up for a few minutes, getting me and his face totally wet, then he started making his way up my back, kissing and rubbing my chest. As he was now up near my neck and shoulders, I could feel his cock hard against my ass. I never wanted anything more than him, inside me. He reached to my front and started stroking me as I felt his cock dig in under my ass. I turned to kiss him, and as I did, he forcefully put me down on the bed, and lifted my legs up. He knelt behind my thighs and leaned down and kissed me hard, or cocks rubbing together just as the night before. He held that position for a while but slowly was working his cock to my ass. I finally felt the head pressed up against my hole, and I held my arms around his neck and implored him with my eyes to take me. He slowly pushed in and kept rocking his hips back and forth as he forced his way past my sphincter. It hurt like all get out, but I was determined to see him in. he finally gave up and pulled some lube from his pocket on the floor. After lubing himself, he worked a finger in me as I watched him. When he got two inside he smiled at me, and I nodded. I was ready. He got back into position and pushed gently but slowly, and with a pop entered me. I let in a huge rush of air as it was way bigger than his fingers. I kept breathing hard as he eased back and forth. The pain eased as he kept this slow rhythm, deeper and deeper with each stoke. I threw my legs around his back as he propped himself up with his arms, and I kissed him hard as we moved to meet each other and back again. I was totally his, like no one before him. I never felt so connected to anyone before this, and I wanted this to not stop. He started moving faster and I was working to keep pace with him. He stomach rubbing against my cock, his cock stroking my insides. He reared up and I could tell he was nearing impact. He lifted his head and groaned out as I felt his cock, hard as ever twitching inside me. He shot his load into me and I was his willing receptacle. It was then that I too let loose with an explosion between us. My toes curled up in an orgasm I never before felt as intense. I started kissing him again, not wanting to let go. And I started to cry. Joyfully but I was very happy he was right there. I thought about all the guys before him, that I had pushed out of my life, and quietly wondered what would have been if I had surrendered to my true feelings for them. It was a light sadness for what could have been. It was a sadness for my wife and kids, as they slowly faded from center stage of my life. But more than that, it was happiness. I just wanted to be right here. Right with this man, no matter what anyone thought. He asked if there was anything wrong. "I love you, is all." "You realize you shouldn't say things in the throes of sex or after glow." He smiled. "I am pretty sure I mean it. That was amazing, and I can't help but think we could do that a lot" We kissed again, as he slowly slipped out of me. I rolled him over on his side and we faced each other, gently exploring and kissing, till he fell asleep in my arms with me. I awoke the next morning to sounds of banging in the kitchen. I looked over, it was 8:40. I had slept past 5 AM for the first time in almost a year. I went downstairs and found him trying to make coffee. He was dressed. "Oh hi, sleepy head. Where do you keep the filters?" I pulled them out of the cabinet as I kissed him. "Right above the machine, natch." "I was gonna make you coffee before I left, but now I guess you can make it." "Where you off to so early?" "I need to get a few things and come back. I'm thinking I might stay a few days." And he hasn't left since. Christopher's This is the first in the "Christopher" series and my first submission to Literotica. Thanks to the volunteer editor program. Your suggestions brought this story to life. It was 5:00am and he felt good as he pulled his jet black Vette to the curb in front of Christopher's, his exclusive West Hartford salon. He was at his best in the early morning. Perhaps it was his ten- year hitch in the Army. First, as an Army Airborne Officer. Then as an Army Ranger. What did the commercial say? "We do more before seven than most people do all day But that life was long past. There are only three left over effects of his Army days. At forty-three, he still had the body of a Special Forces snake eater. He was 5'10", 175lbs with 44 inch shoulders and a 32 inch waist. Woman looked two or three times when he walked past. The only thing thick on his body was his 9 inch cock. The second effect of his military life, he was fanatical about his appearance. Whether dressed in a tux or finishing a two-hour workout, not a hair out of place and his clothes… just perfect. Last and most important, he retained his military bearing. The merchants, club owners and restaurateurs that surrounded his West Hartford Center salon came to him for advise and direction. Over the last twelve years, he had helped lead the revitalization of this once sleepy New England town. Today, West Hartford Center was a destination for the rich and trendy. He also had a command over his staff of 17 employees. They were the most talented stylists, make-up artists and manicurists in the area. Clients drive from all over the State, to Christopher's and pay top dollar for the privilege. Although he pampered his wealthy clients, he commanded them too. He got what he wanted from them, their money, respect and the most enjoyable rewards, their throat, pussy and assholes. Robin was waiting at the front door of the salon. Her friend Carol was a favorite client of Christopher's and, unknown to most, one of his many sluts. Christopher had bumped into Carol and Robin at an area restaurant. Robin was getting married and wanted her hair done, just right. She asked Carol to call Christopher and arrange an early morning appointment on her wedding day. Carol had called a month prior and begged for the 5:00 am appointment. Christopher had refused the first two requests for this early morning appointment but he was playing with the woman. The third time Carol called, he told her what he wanted. She pleaded with him, "Please, not on her wedding day!" The pleading was to no avail. "You'll do as I've instructed," was the last thing he said. He heard her sniffle as he hung up the phone. All-American is the best way to describe Robin. Dressed in a crop top tee and shorts with A&F Gym scrawled across her butt, she stood 5'4" in her running shoes. She had strawberry blond hair and perky C-cup breasts. "No bra!" he noticed immediately. Very firm for a 30 year old, he thought. Her face was perfect, sparkling blue eyes, high cheek bones and a dazzling smile. He smiled as he approached. "Good morning," he said and stepped toe to toe with her. Taking control from the start, he grabbed her hair and examined it. "Mmmmmmm," was all he said. He looked into her eyes smiled, unlocked the front door, took her hand and led her to his private work area. He could tell she was a little uncomfortable and that was perfect. He would maintain his control and keep her off balance. She quickly took out two magazine pictures and held them out. "This is what I want my hair to look like," she said. He maintained his smile but ignored the picture. Instead, he continued to run his hand through her shoulder length hair, pulling and prodding and shacking it loose. He walked in back of her, hands still roughly running through her hair. He leaned in close, pressing into her firm butt and whispered into her ear, "Put the pictures away, Christopher is going to create a master piece. Jump into the chair," he ordered as he patted her bum. Her eyes sparked with immediate anger. The anger of a spoiled rich girl. "This is my wedding and you'll do my hair the way I want!" He smiled and shrugged. "Get the fuck out of here, its way too early for your bullshit!" And he started walking to the front of the shop. "What? Get back here and do my hair now!" The confusion in her voice was clear. She was used to getting what she wanted. "You have two choices. You can leave now or you can sit your cute little butt in my chair and keep your mouth shut. This is my shop and I don't take orders from anyone!" He stood with his hands on his hips, his eyes looked like daggers. She lowered her eyes and retreated to the chair. The haircut took a quick forty-five minutes. She didn't talk much at first, still mad at him. But, he was professional and confident. She liked that in a man. As her hair started to come together, he started to draw her out, asking questions about her wedding and the honeymoon. He was a well-practiced flirt and was able to get her to describe her Victoria Secret teddy for the wedding night and the g-string bikini for the Hawaii pools and beaches. As he flirted and coaxed more information from her she found herself becoming more attracted to this handsome older man. Carol was right; he is a hunk. She would ask her matron-of-honor and oldest friend more about this man. They would share some girl-talk when they met later that morning. They would meet at Robin's mother's house at 9:00am to get ready for the 10:00 a.m. ceremony. Robin couldn't believe her eyes as he finished. Her hair was perfect, just what she wanted. She felt foolish about the argument earlier. Her hair certainly is a masterpiece. But, her feelings turned to nervousness as she realized he was finishing. She had a favor to ask, something Carol suggested. It was a honeymoon present for her husband… something he has fantasized about. "Christopher", she started nervously. "I have a favor to ask. Carol said you might help me with a problem. My new bikini is very small and my hair sticks around the edges. My soon to be husband has wanted me to shave my private area but I've never done it. Would you shave me?" His eyes widened in surprise and she thought he was going to decline but he was laughing deep inside. Carol had followed his instructions perfectly. He wanted this beauty and now she was his. He started slow, "Can't you do this yourself? It's very personal." She answered, " I want all of the hair removed and its very delicate down there "Would you please do me this favor?" After 'reluctantly' agreeing, he instructed her to remove her shorts and panties and stared as she slowly rolled her clothes down her tanned legs. There wasn't much hair. He could see her pussy lips were wet and swollen. "You have a beautiful pussy. Your husband is a lucky man." She was embarrassed, but thanked him and she noticed for the first time a growing bulge in his pants. It looked huge and she felt some excitement. He continued to stare at her body. "Spread your legs", he ordered. When she hesitated, he continued "over the arms of the chair, now!" She took a deep breath and did as she was told. Spread open completely before him, he reached for his tools and grabbed a pair of scissors. He knelt between her spread legs and looked into her eyes. "You smell delicious, do you like having your pussy eaten?" Eyes wide, she admitted that Michael didn't give her oral sex. "Fool!" Christopher muttered under his breath. It took ten minutes to trim her bush and Christopher took every opportunity to brush his fingers along her pussy lips and clit. He grabbed tuffs of her hair and pulled quit hard. Slowly the discomfort turned to pleasure. Her breathing increased and soon she was panting. She couldn't hide her growing excitement. When finished, he stood and stepped back to admire his work. He replaced the sisccors on the counter and took up his straight edge razor. Looking her in the eye, he slowly opened the tool. Her eyes couldn't meet his and seemed to be hypnotized by the danger and excitement of the straight edge. He saw her shiver as he rubbed the tool along a thick leather strap. "I'm going to shave the hair around your asshole first. Kneel on the seat and lean on the back of the chair." She wasn't used to such crude words. Her face turned red and she was about to say something, but one look into his eyes and she did as he ordered. He smiled as she positioned herself. Her ass was a work of art, firm and heart shaped. "Spread your cheeks apart". Her hands reached behind her, cupping each cheek. Her pink asshole spread before him. He resisted taking his tongue and spearing it deep into her ass. 'If he doesn't eat her pussy, what's the chance he tongue fucks her ass?' he thought. "I'm going to spread some shaving cream on you. Don't move." It was a command not a request. It doesn't take much effort too spread shaving cream around such a small area, but he took his time. He spread the cream deep into her crack. His fingers slowly rubbed back and forth over her asshole. She was going out of her mind, breathing hard and softly moaning. "Oh God, what are you doing to me", she cooed. "I said, don't move." The tip of his finger penetrated into her ass and she jumped. Three quick swipes of the razor and the few hairs around her asshole were gone. "I'm going to rub in some baby oil. You don't want razor burn, do you?" All Carol could do is moan as he rubbed the baby oil into the crack of her ass. No one had ever touched her there. Her pussy was soaked and she had never been so aroused. She was losing control with this man. He was just a sexy stranger, but he was somehow taking control of her. She was four hours away from her wedding and a stranger was touching her virgin ass. "Turn over and spread your legs over the arms of the chair again. Its time to shave your cunt." Out of control and filled with lust she spread herself over the arms of the chair. She watched as he got more shaving cream and she knew what was coming next. Again, between her legs he applied the cream. Rubbing her pussy, clit and the surrounding stubble, he spread the cream. This ten-second job took forever. He enjoyed watching her turn into a panting slut. As much as she wanted, she couldn't tell him to stop. Her eyes were closed and he could tell she was approaching orgasm. He stopped and grinned when she let out a shivering moan. He opened the razor again and in a few expert strokes her cunt was as bare as a baby's. "We won't need baby oil here, your pussy juice will work fine." With the palm of his hand, he cupped her pussy and started to rub. Carol was out of control and all she wanted was cum. He watched her eyes, listened to her breathing. As her orgasm hit, he shoved three fingers deep into her cunt and wrapped his lips around her clit. He was glad it was early morning, because her scream could easily be heard on the quiet downtown street. He kept finger fucking her pussy and licking and sucking her clit. He reached up and with his other hand and lifted her crop top. He took a cherry red nipple and twisted cruelly. She moaned and launched into another loud cum. She was now begging him to stop, but the assault continued. When she started her third orgasm, he let her nipple go, took two fingers and stuffed them deep into her asshole. Her virgin ass gripped his fingers as he fucked her cunt and ass together. When she finished her third cum, he pulled his fingers from her body. "Open your mouth," he said. When she did, he jammed the fingers from both hands into her mouth. Without any further commands, she cleaned his fingers with her mouth. When she was finished, he stepped back and pulled his shirt over his head. She wondered how an old guy could be in such good shape. Next, he pulled off his pants. She absently started rubbing her pussy when she saw the size of his cock. Carol wasn't a virgin, in fact she had a number of lovers, but this guy had a horse cock. "Please fuck me; I need your dick, please!" "I have three rules", he explained, "first, I don't fuck single woman, you have to be married. After your wedding today, you can come back for my dick. If you want to fuck this cock, you have to be my married slut. "Second, my married sluts give me all their holes." As he said this he approached her. "They give me their mouths," and he jammed three fingers deep into her mouth, choking her. "They give me their cunts," and he jammed the same fingers into her sore pussy and "They give me their assholes," and he worked hard to stretch three fingers into her ass. "Do you understand?" Tears ran down her cheeks as she nodded her understanding. "Finally, my married sluts obey me. Will you do as I command?" She nodded a submissive yes. "Good, get on the floor and suck my cock!" She lifted her legs off the chair arms and slowly slid to the floor. "I'm not going to fuck your pussy today, but you are going to use your mouth to fuck my cock. If you do a good job on your own, I'll let you come back after you're wedding for a pussy and asshole pounding. If you do a lousy job, I'm going to grab your perfect hair and face fuck you. After I cum on your face, I'll throw you out the front door and never let you back in. Now get sucking." Carol was a possessed woman. She wanted to please this man. She started chocking on his monster at five inches, but she kept trying. He didn't make it easy telling her she was a shitty cocksucker. She reached behind him, grabbed his ass and pulled him deeper into her mouth. She was chocking and crying as she felt her nose reach his washboard belly. "You've bottomed out slut, now mouth fuck me" She slides him out then swallowed him over and over. Her husband would cum in a minute or two, but this guy was lasting forever. Finally, with a sore jaw and aching throat, she felt his cock expand. The first blast went down her throat; the second in her mouth and the rest all over her All-American face. He lifted her up and licked a load of cum off her cheek and then offered it to her on his tongue. She swallowed his tongue and they ended with a long tongue kiss. He sat her back in the chair and touched up her hair. Just perfect he thought. She'll make a beautiful bride and a great future slut. He dressed her tenderly and walked her to the front of the shop. "Will you be back?" "I don't know", she said, but they both knew she was lying. "Have a great wedding, you're a beautiful bride," then he kissed her cheek and let her out the door. After watching her drive away, he relocked the door and went back to his private workstation sitting in his chair. "You can come out now," he said. The closet door slowly opened and Robin stepped out. She was naked as instructed. Behind her was the electronic equipment needed to tape his affairs. He had hidden cameras around the salon and was able to tape all the action. There was a lot of money to be made in the hair business and even more money in the blackmail business. It was so easy to blackmail these sluts. He blackmailed them for cash and sex. But the most profitable business was porn. His web site showed his many married sluts following his orders and commands. The web site was raking in $100,000 a week and most was profit. He owned three buildings in West Hartford Center and an interest in a Cancun Hotel. He draped his legs over the arms of his chair in the same fashion that Carol had. "Eat my asshole and get me hard, slut." Robin had the body of a ten year old, A-cup tits with long red nipples, a slim build, no hips and a bare cunt. She dropped before him and leaned in. She was a well-trained slut. He grabbed her by her hair and pulled her face tight against his ass. Her tongue probed between his cheeks and found his asshole. He loved a good rim job and she was licking him like a pro. He was soon hard. "We're trading places." She sat on the edge of his chair. He hooked her legs behind his elbows and nearly doubled her over. He reached out and pinched both nipples tightly. She winced in pain. "Your asshole first," and he felt her hand grab his cock and guide it to her back entrance. She was a smart slut and had come prepared. Her asshole was well greased, but she still screamed as he pushed his nine inches deep in her bowels. She knew he had just cum with Carol and that this would be a long painful fuck. For the next hour he switched between her cunt and asshole. She felt like she was on a roller coaster, pain, pleasure, cum, and sweat. She was a mess when he finally pulled out of her asshole and unloaded on her little tits. "Baby, you're my best slut. You have to be over at Carols Mom's home in an hour for the wedding preparation. Lets fix your hair." She rested for the next hour as he pampered her and got her ready. Finally, at eight, as the shop was opening for a Saturday full of customers, Robin got dressed and headed out to her best friends wedding. My editor was great help in bringing my story to life. I'd like everyone's feedback, but most importantly, girls, what do you think? Thanks. TSG. Christopher's Sexy Teacher I celebrated my eighteenth birthday during the middle of my senior year in high school in 1988. Soon after this, I had an experience I will never forget. Miss Pikes was my English Composition teacher. She had just recently turned 40, but she was hot. There was a rumor that at one point in her life she had posed for Playboy. I hadn't seen any of the glossy photos of her in print as proof positive, so I couldn't attest to the truth of the rumor. But I certainly saw how it could be possible. Her mother was a full-blooded Native American, and Miss Pikes took pride in her Cherokee ancestry. She was tall, with olive skin, high cheek bones, and deep set bright brown eyes. Her silky black hair fell to the level of her well-rounded breasts. The short skirts she would often wear to class revealed long firm thighs and a nice ass. She had never married, and that fueled another rumor, one concerning her sexual orientation. Actually, it was about this very issue that precipitated my experience. It happened on a Monday in April. I was sitting in Miss Pikes class busily watching her ass wiggle in her short skirt as she wrote on the blackboard. Suddenly, I had a funny thought, the kind that needed to be shared immediately. I tore a sheet from my notebook and wrote, if she's a lesbian, I would be willing to put on a dress and shave my legs to get a chance to lick that pussy. I chuckled and passed the note to Bill, who sat beside me in class. I didn't expect him to laugh out loud, but he did. This caught Miss Pikes attention, and before Bill could hide the note, she saw it. "Bill, would you please bring that piece of paper to me," Miss Pikes said, holding out her hand. "Uh, I'd better not, Miss Pikes," Bill said, squirming in his seat. "Bring it to me now, Bill," she said. He slowly rose from his seat and started toward the front of the class. I couldn't believe this was happening. The sound of giggling filled the classroom. I wanted to get up and grab the note from Bill and tear it to pieces before he reached her, but found myself frozen in my seat. Miss Pikes took the paper from Bill, read it without any change in her expression, then placed it in her desk drawer. "Was that your note, did you write it?" she asked Bill. "No . . . Miss Pikes . . ." She looked out over the class and asked, "Who wrote it?" I couldn't let Bill or anyone else take the blame for what I had done. Feeling the flush in my cheeks, I slowly raised my hand. "Christopher, it was your note?" she asked, as her gaze never left my face. "Uh huh," I said. I felt like I was going to puke. "Well, I want to see you after school today. Four O'clock in this classroom, understand?" "I understand" She continued the rest of the class period as though nothing unusual had happened. I knew I was in for trouble. I just didn't know how much. I spent the rest of her class and the three that followed, going over in my mind the possible forms of punishment I might receive. Certainly being expelled was close to the top of the list. At precisely four O'clock I lightly tapped on her classroom door. My knees felt rubbery, and it seemed like my heart was going to explode out of my chest. I heard the sound of her heels on the floor as she approached the door. "Come in, Christopher," she said, as she opened the door. She walked to her desk, without turning around, and pointed to a chair on the front row. "Sit there," she said. I sat down and folded my hands together on top of the desk trying to look as innocent as possible. She took a seat atop her desk facing in my direction. She crossed her legs, giving me a nice view of her long legs, along with quite a bit of her upper thighs. She looked at me for several seconds without speaking. The silence deafening. Then she leaned backwards and retrieved the note I had written from her desk drawer. As she did this, her short red skirt rode an inch or two higher on her thighs, and I got a momentary glimpse of the white outline of her panties. Despite my fear, I could feel my cock growing inside my jeans. "I think we need some privacy to discuss the issue of this note, don't you?" she asked. I simply nodded. She rose from her desk, and I watched as she locked the classroom door, and then lowered the blinds to cover the windows. After she finished, she again sat on her desk facing me, holding the note I had written firmly in her hand. "Now," she said. "Would you like to explain this, or shall I give you my interpretation?" "I . . . don't know what to say," I said, shifting nervously in my seat. Even under the circumstances, I couldn't force myself to look away from her legs. "I think you're a horny young man," she said. That comment took my eyes momentarily away from her legs to her face. She was wearing a wry smile I had never seen before. "Understand," she continued, "my sex life is none of your business. But since you seem so curious about it, and I am a teacher, maybe some after school instruction is needed. After all, English Composition is not my only subject of interest." She stood and walked toward my desk, as she began unbuttoning her blouse. I was totally dumbfounded. Here I was, expecting to be punished by being expelled from school, and now I was alone in a locked and empty classroom, with my gorgeous teacher removing her clothes. "You like my body, don't you?" she asked, in a husky voice. "Oh yeah," I managed to stammer. She slipped her blouse from her shoulders, revealing a black lacy bra completely filled by her large breasts. I was totally oblivious to my surroundings as I watched transfixed. "You're a nice looking young man, tall and muscular. I've seen you working out in the gym and playing basketball. Tall men with dark hair and blue eyes have always been a turn on for me. Besides, I've seen the way you look at me in class, so I assume the attraction is mutual. Am I correct?" she asked, as she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra. Again, I could only nod. Then she hesitated. "You are eighteen, aren't you?" she asked. "Yes" "Good, I wouldn't want to be accused of corrupting a minor," she said, and laughed. She let her bra fall to the floor. I gasped, as the most beautiful pair of breasts I had ever seen was exposed to me, large and firm, with dark nipples, without the least bit of sag. "Have you wanted to see these before?" she asked, leaning toward my desk. "Oh yeah," I managed to say. "I know you've thought about them at night while you were alone in bed and playing with your cock." She cupped her hands under her breasts and squeezed them. "Yes I have," I said. "Suck them," she said softly. I stayed in my seat, and as she leaned closer, I took both of her breasts in my hands and worked each nipple slowly with my tongue until they were completely erect. Taking my hands, she helped me from my seat. "Oh, how nice you feel," she said, as her hand squeezed the bulge in my jeans. "Help me move some things on my desk." After moving a few books and papers, she climbed on her desk pulling me on top of her. Our kiss was deep, and passionate. She licked and nibbled my ears. I felt like I was on fire, and would erupt any second. "Slow down, sweety, not yet," she whispered in my ear. "This isn't a race." I tried desperately to slow my movements, but found it nearly impossible. I was a horny eighteen-year-old boy lying on top of the half naked body of the sexiest woman I had ever known, as she moaned and squirmed beneath me. I moved my mouth to her breasts again, as my fingers traced along her inner thighs. Soon, my fingers found the warm dampness of her crotch. Miss Pikes shifted her ass on the desk to give my fingers more room to explore. A small hum escaped her lips when I slipped my hand inside the waistband of her panties, and let my finger slide along the wet and swollen folds of her pussy. Turning on her side, she unsnapped my jeans and circled her fingers around my shaft. Reaching the waistband of her panties, I helped her slide them off. "I want you to leave your skirt on," I said. I wanted to fuck my sexy teacher in the short skirt like I had fantasized about so many times. Not wanting her hand to move away from my cock, I nevertheless stood and turned her around on her desk. I leaned her back, spreading her legs while her heels remained on the desk top. Placing my hands on her waist, I lowered my mouth to her soaking pussy. Her pubic hair was dark, soft, and neatly trimmed. I flicked my tongue slowly along her lips savoring the sweet taste of her arousal. Opening her with my fingers, I teased her clit with soft kisses. "Oh Christopher that feels sooooooo good," she whimpered, as she arched her hips, trying to push her pussy harder against my mouth. I continued my attention on her clit as my tongue picked up its pace. Her thrusting quickened along with her breathing, and I knew she was close to cumming. Now, with each thrust she panted, "Oh . . . Oh . . . Oh . . ." I pulled her hips forward, as I buried my mouth firmly against her pussy and sucked hard on her clit. "Oh, god!" she cried, as she stiffened with her orgasm, while coating my mouth and chin with her juices. She let her legs drop over the edge of her desk, and as her breathing slowed, she murmured over and over, "So good . . . so fucking good." As her orgasm began to wane, she sat up, reached for my jeans, and pulled them down. "Now I'm going to show you what a naughty, naughty squaw I can be," she said, as she took my cock in both of her hands. She slid from her desk and took me in her mouth. She cupped her hands under my balls and gently massaged them as she completely engulfed my shaft. I had never felt such an exhilarating feeling in my short life. I couldn't hold it for long and I told her so. "Mmmmmmm," she moaned, looking up at me, never removing her lips from my cock. I felt the rush of cum from my balls moving to the tip of my cock, savoring that instant just prior to release. Giving in to the pleasurable pressure, I pushed my hips forward and released what seemed like gallons of cum deep into her throat. She swallowed eagerly with each contraction, until finally she used her tongue to lick the last drop or two from the tip of my cock, which caused what felt like small tingles of electricity in my groin. Not surprisingly, within a few minutes I was ready again. We kissed, and I could taste the mixture of her saliva and the salty after taste of my own cum. I helped her stand, and was about to lean her forward over her desk when there was a knock on the door. "Is everything all right?" a male voice called from just outside the locked door. "It's Carl, the evening janitor," she whispered to me. "Be very quiet, don't say anything." "Everything's fine, Carl," she said. "I'm just finishing up some after school work." "I thought I heard a funny noise in there," Carl replied. "No, Carl, I'm fine, really. Thanks for checking on me." I expected to hear the lock turn on the door as Carl used his key to make sure things were okay. I was holding my breath. Instead, I heard him tell her to have a nice evening, and listened as his footsteps grew fainter down the hallway. "Now, where were we?" she asked, as she pulled me again toward her desk. "We were just about to do this," I said, as I leaned her forward over her desk and raised her skirt above her waist. The sight of her naked ass, with her wet slit exposed to me, had my cock throbbing to attention again. I spread her cheeks and rubbed the tip of my cock along her wetness. She moaned, and placing her hands firmly on her desk, tried to push herself back against me. I reached around and squeezed her breasts as I pushed myself forward into her. I lowered my mouth, and let my tongue trace a line along her spine just below her neck. "Oh . . . yeah" she groaned, as I withdrew, and then pushed into her again, as her warm tightness massaged me. "Fuck me hard now . . . faster," she said. I quickened my pace, as she pushed more forcefully back against me. Lubricating my finger with her juices, I slipped it inside her ass, and she growled with lust. Her desk slid forward against the blackboard, and her heels scraped along the floor, as I continued pounding into her with all my strength. We were like animals in heat, sweating, groaning and thrusting toward release. Soon, it would come. We were so close. The sound of our sex filled the classroom, along with the pounding of her desk against the blackboard with each forceful thrust. "Ohhhhh . . . my god! . . . Oh . . . I'm cumming again!" she nearly wailed, as her body shuddered again and again, her pussy gripped tightly around my cock. I too, neared release, and just at the last second, pulled out and with a few quick strokes, shot two or three jets of cum all over her lower back and ass. Nearly breathless, I leaned over and kissed the nape of her neck. After several moments I said, "That was awesome, Miss Pikes." "Yes, it was. Did you learn anything, and was your curiosity satisfied?" "Oh yes Miss Pikes, definitely. But I think I might need some more tutoring," I said. She brushed her hair back and smiled, "Would this Friday at seven in my apartment work for you? Maybe my friend Denise will join us." "That would be great," I said, as I walked toward the door. "Christopher?" I turned. "Yes?" "For your information only, it was the October issue 1973, pages 48-51," she said, and winked. "Wow" was all I could manage to say as I closed the door behind me. Christopher's story I was fifteen sexually active and pregnant with an already unhealthy child. When I think back now upon the choices set in front of me at such a young age, I feel the severity of the time coming full force and reckoning with me. I was young, a mother to be, a teen pregnancy. You have heard the stories of the heartache and heart break of teen pregnancies. Mine is not much different from those in most senses except that the choice I was forced to make might be inconceivable to most. I was told in the beginning of my pregnancy that my unborn child would indeed have some birth defects. I was seen by the Neo natal specialist she informed me that my son was unable to urinate in the womb. Now I at least knew what was wrong with him. The doctor explained that having a child with dissabilities was a huge responsiablity. She I do believe thought that a fifteen year old girl was not ready to raise a child with special needs. She was coarse with me and giving me the most gruesome possibilities. The tact to scare me just made me more determined. She told me that she would like to do a procedure called the amniocentesis, her reasoning for this particular procedure was to ensure the baby was not going to be mentally handicapped as well. For if this was the case then the doctor would terminate my pregnancy. The amniocentesis consisted of a very large needle being injected into my stomach and into the incredibly delicate umbilical cord. Then the fluid of the cord would be with drawn and tested for mental retardation. The results from the procedure were normal indicating that the baby would be healthy mentally. The doc was still not convinced not knowing the extent of my sons problems, that a teen could care for a child that would for sure be a ridiculous amount of energy and time. After again voicing her opinion she gave me two weeks to think over my decision to have the child or medically abort. As soon as the words left her mouth an uneasy feeling subsided over me for the next few days. What a terrible thing to think of much less decide. Many have to make decisions on rather or not to keep a child but few have the decision of rather or not to keep an unhealthy child. I admit I was young and scared I turned to my family for support. My mother being the kind and giving women that she is did not impede her opinion on to me like some other parents have done to their children in the past. She simply told me if I deiced to keep my child she would support us. As you know that is the most unselfish gift a mother could offer her child and unborn grand child who is sure to have health issues. My grandmother was alive at this time and being a most spiritual and understanding women I spoke with her of my concerns. I had several of course I wanted my child but would it be fare to bring him into the world knowing he would not be healthy. Could I really handle a child with special needs? Give him the love and attention he would need. I was torn between the dream I had of being a mother and the cruel reality. My grandmother listened to me earnestly and then said there was only one piece of advice she had to give, it was the most honest intriguing thing and it made all the difference. She said "Jenny the baby is alive now if god wants him home early then let god take him, but don't you send him home early." That one sentence that one piece of advice clenched my decision and once it was made I never looked back. After several failed attempts to implant a shunt into the baby's bladder while he was still in the womb the doc decided she would like to try an experimental procedure on me and the baby. As I sat and listened to the plan and all of the pros's and con's versus what was already facing us. I decided to do it after signing several legal documents stating that I understand the experimental procedure was no guarantee that my child would live through it or my self. We began. I reported to my doc's office three days a week for the first week. The procedure consisted of this. Inserting an amniocentesis needle through my stomach through the baby's stomach and into his bladder. Now there was a syringe attached to the needle and the doc would drain the badder by drawing the urine into the syringe, then pulling the needle out of the bladder and stomach of the baby and stopping just in side the amniotic sac. She would inject the urine trying to fill the dry amniotic sack. Thus increasing the baby's chance of survival by helping to develop his lungs. This procedure seemed to be working wonderfully for the first two weeks. Then I started to have complications. I began to go into labor after each session and the doc had to subside my labor with medication each time. The more we did it the harder it became to stop the labor. Finally I had hit my 36Th week and the doc's wanted to give me steroid shots to develop the baby's lungs. This would prepare him for birth as a c-section was schedule for the following week. I was to receive two shots. Begining Tuesday and Thursday of that week. Tuesday I arrived for my app and received my shot. After,I went home and as I felt in tuned with the pregnancy noticing and paying attention to every movement and non movement of the baby. I noticed a slight tugging nagging feeling in the back of my stomach not pain, no not labor, something else. I knew that I would be sent home but on the side of caution I had a family member take me to the hospital and drop me off at the emergency room which had been like a second home through my pregnancy. The monitors were placed on me and in no more than 20 minutes time. I was informed an emergency c-section was needed. They gave me 15 minutes, before surgery and time was allowed for me to contact family. They lived ten minutes from the hospital. I am told the family arrived seven minutes later and I was on the table already being cut for the delivery. I woke up some time later and was presented with a beautiful baby boy. He had already had surgery when he was born then he spent three minutes with me. Then suddenly he was being whisked away for more hours of surgery. In those brief minutes that I held my son I saw how generous God really was. The baby was born with all his fingers all his toes and no other physical deformity was visible at that time. Christopher's Surprise "I'm going to kill you." When Christopher said that, his pupils contracted and the whites of his eyes turned pink. I'd seen that look in his eyes before, with victims I'd brought him, and I knew that he meant what he said. "Wait, please! Haven't I served you well? I only want to please you!" "You have, and you do. Too well. You know too much. Don't worry, I'll make sure you have a good time." Unbelieving, in shock, I didn't struggle as he stuffed my discarded panties in my mouth and tied them in with one of my stockings. But when he laid his hand flat on my belly, I jerked my hips away, desperately trying to reach the buckles or the clips I knew should be somewhere at my wrists... but discovered instead locks. The links of the chains didn't even groan as I pulled with all my strength to break them or pull the hooks from the walls. He watched my struggles, stroking me here or there as I protected one part of my body to open up others for his touch. "Your struggle makes this much sweeter for both of us, dear one. Fight as long as you like." Even the might which was supplemented by regular ingestion of his blood could not free me or even weaken the bonds which held me. I fell still when I had exhausted myself, but for the sobs that began to shake me. I rolled partway on my right side, my left arm straining back, turning away from his sight as I trembled and wept. I felt his knee bend the mattress, then he lay down behind me, his clothed legs over and under my left leg, his arm under me and the other wrapped over me. His smooth and cool leather arm braces pressed against my chest as I shook in his embrace. His tongue traced the edge of my ear, his voice sounded tender, wounding me through with the tone of the Ageless that I loved. "My dear, sweet girl, there is no way I can make you understand what or why I do what I do. I can only show you. If you wish, struggle against it. But if you struggle too much, I cannot ease the pain this will cause. It would be easier for you to just accept it, and enjoy the pleasure to be had. Yes?" I nodded. "Good girl." He grabbed a fistful of hair at the back of my head then, stretching my neck out painfully and sinking his fangs deep in the muscle of my shoulder. He pulled back a little to lick gently at the blood that welled from the holes. He pricked my neck gently here and there over the deep river of blood that pulsed beneath, kissing and licking down back my shoulder blade. Rolling me back, he licked the sweat of fear that chilled my skin, sucking one hardened and puckered nipple into his mouth, one fang grazing the aureole. When the hard pebble expanded in his mouth, he bit down. I screamed behind my gag at the pain which soon blossomed out through my body. Shame quickly followed, as always the pain brought intense pleasure and I was unable to control the wetness between my legs or the writhing of my body for a different reason. He laughed, and suckled the blood that flowed from my breast, making me lust more deeply, moaning in pain and desire. He sucked the other nipple into his mouth, again biting down, exulting in delight as again I screamed and moaned behind my gag, begging. It was like all of the other times; I felt a part of me warm with happiness that I had pleased him. I almost wished him to kill me right then, and knowing that my death would satisfy him brought me a distant feeling of completion. But I didn't want to die. He licked and nipped his way down the undersides of my breasts, my belly, and scooted down to put his head between my legs. I lifted my head to look at him as he spread my swollen labia wide apart to examine me. He stroked the slick sides of my inner lips, puffy with blood that had risen to the surface, and he smiled up at me. "Death cannot diminish your beauty, sweetness, only increase it." I shook my head, but he winked at me, and lowered his mouth. His tongue, I felt first, teasing my tunnel's entrance with just the tip, circling around and poking just inside, then swirling out to lick the lips which swelled to meet his mouth, lapping the sensitive tissues. His lips closed over my clit and suckled it rhythmically, swiftly bringing me close to orgasm, but stopping just before I could. His hands reached up to grasp my breasts firmly; his thumbs and forefingers pinched both my nipples as he bit down on a vein running through one side of my pussy. He held me down as my body convulsed, twisting and bucking -- one orgasm crested. He shifted his hands, rolling my nipples between his fingers, and lifted his mouth for just a moment before repeating the same thing on the other side -- this time I felt the fire of his fangs precede them as the teeth eased through my flesh more slowly. He reached the vein, and my blood flowed doubly to his desire. His mouth closed over both wounds and my clitoris as he sucked the liquid of my life from my cunt. I couldn't stop coming, so I rapidly lost consciousness. I awoke to feel him cleaning the nearly-dry blood from my breasts with his tongue. He looked at me at the change in my heartbeat, and knelt up, unbuckling his belt, opening his pants to show his erection, large and hard, straining out from his black silk briefs. He pulled it out the front, and I could remember every time he had used it on me, how it always filled me anywhere he put it, the pleasure I had experienced at its use. I began again to cry. "Oh, my little one, this will soon be all over." It sounded as if he meant the words to comfort me, but it made me cry only harder. "Hush, hush..." He caressed my hair, and put the fingers of his other hand into my cunt, his thumb circling my sensitive bud until my hips rotated to meet his hand. I continued crying, the tears flowing faster. He placed his cock at the gate of my pussy, pushing in as he closed his fangs over my neck. It was time to die. Slowly he pumped my cunt, the walls clinging to his smooth hard flesh. His cock was large, stretching me with its familiar fullness, but he was the biggest and hardest I'd ever felt him. I couldn't help tilting my pelvis to meet his thrusts, but I was able to do only that as he held me down. His arms gathered me up, lifting my torso to meet his, as my arms were pulled back by the chains at my wrists and my head lolled back. I could feel the warmth of unconsciousness creep in at the edge of my senses. He kept his mouth on my neck but stopped sucking, to thrust harder, bruising my cervix with the head of his cock. The pain and pleasure built to fever point -- he pierced the vein again, tearing my neck as he slammed himself into me like a battering ram. I came, and my body gave out. As I died, I felt his cock spasm and pulse inside me. All in all, I think it was the best death I could have had. He could have told me of his plans, but he didn't... I woke the next night, starving as we all do when we wake from that dream. It was the best surprise ever.