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Looking For It

By: sr71plt



I stood there, in front of the still-wet painting. It gripped me, pulled me in, made me tingle, feel on edge. I wanted it; I wanted to be it. I wasn't it yet. The painting was of me, but it somehow was more alive, more aroused, nearer the pinnacle. I could see it everywhere, mostly in the eyes, I thought. They were so alive, so satisfied and . . . completed.

"It's . . . it's like something you've never done before, Klaus," I murmured.

"It's in the style of Seligman," he whispered in my ear. "Well, partially the style. I like to think I bring something new, important to it. My counter to Seligman. Do you like it?"

"Yes, yes . . . of course. It makes me . . . it makes me want to be that man."

"But you are that man, Petro, that is you. You are that for me."

Yes it was of me; I was the model. I had just lain there, naked, on the divan, for hours, swirled in folds of the scarlet silk. And yet it wasn't me. It was what I wanted to be, what I wanted to feel, at the height of ejaculation. It was a level I had not attained, although I had sought it for years. The ultimate ejaculation. "No, Klaus. I wish. But there's more, much more than me, in the painting. In the style of Seligman, you say? Who is this Seligman? Where can I find him?"

"You do not want to know, Petro. You think that I am peculiar . . . have special needs. No, do not bother to deny it. But Seligman, he is a man on the edge. I shudder to think of the tightrope he would make you walk."

Moeller was standing close behind me. He too was naked. We had worked for hours, and I could tell by the way he looked at me as he painted, that he would want me again—and in his way. He was enfolding me in his arms, a hand on my cock and one strumming a nipple with his thumb. And his cock was hard and rubbing against the small of my back. He had been hard for some time, as he was finishing the painting. Looking at me in that way. Wanting fucking me to be the high point of his creation, what he would remember when he looked at this masterpiece he had created. And not just any fucking. His way.

He deserved it. It required so little of me. The painting was a masterpiece. It was alive with lust and arousal.

"I love it, Klaus," I repeated. "It makes me feel so . . . so . . ."

I couldn't complete the thought, and Moeller's hand on my cock and thumb on my nipple felt all the answer that was required.

"Please . . . the divan," he uttered in a low, hoarse voice.

"Yes."

He handed me the lubed dildo as he stood between my thighs, my shoulder blades resting on the silk draperies on the divan. I took it and placed it in position as he raised one of my feet in his hands and brought it to his lips and kissed it and stroked it lightly with his fingers.

His eyes slitted as I slowly impaled myself on the dildo, methodically drawing it deep inside me. I kept my eyes on his, knowing that was important, showing him how arousing his lips on the arch of my foot was in consort with the slow inhaling of the dildo inside my ass canal. I made my eyes burn, imploring as his mouth enclosed over my toes, one by one, and he gave suck.

I arched my back and started to slowly move the dildo in and out, in and out, inside me, as he took up my other foot and made love to it.

I moaned for him, as I knew he would want me to and that would arouse him further. I extracted the dildo—slowly—and he moved closer into me, and I took his cock in both of my hands and drew him inside me, as he continued to suck my toes and run his tongue over my feet. He was making little mewing sounds that shortly melted into the sounds of his need. He fucked me faster, deeper, and he was biting my toes and feet, and I was crying out in both pain and passion.

And then it was over and he dropped my legs and collapsed on top of me. His eyes sought out mine, and although I saw pleasure there, I saw also in the reflection in his eyes that I had not attained it—the eyes he had painted for me were so much more satisfied, completed, than the ones he was staring into.

"In the style of Seligman?" I asked in a low voice when we were both able to speak.

"Forget Seligman," he whispered. "You do not want to pursue that."

"But the painting is so alive, so much what I want. So much more," I murmured.

"It is not because of Seligman," he whispered. "I think it is because of what I brought to Seligman's style?"

"I don't understand," I said.

"The eyes; it's in the eyes."

Later, standing in front of the painting, I paid particular attention to the eyes again. They were one of the best aspects of the painting. My initial impression did not change. The eyes were so alive, so deep in passion and lust—and fulfillment. Satisfied eyes. Fully taken and satisfied. The best part of it.

And I asked Moeller again, and he would not tell me. "You do not want to know," was his repeated answer.

"Where is this Seligman?" I asked again.

"You do not want to know," he repeated.

But I would not let him take me again—in the special way he liked—until he told me. And he wanted me so much, in that way, that he did tell me.

* * * *

Seligman's studio was high in the German alps, carved out of the ruins of a small castle keep—what had probably been a remote watch tower and fortification for a small sentry force in centuries past. When I asked in the hostel in the small village at the foot of the mountain, they refused to tell me how to get there.

But we weren't in the dark ages. Seligman had a cell phone, and I was able to contact him. And when I had established that I had modeled for Moeller and Viscuss and even Hollimain when he was still painting—before he was incarcerated for what had been declared as both blasphemous and pornographic—Seligman seemed all too pleased to give me directions to his isolated studio.

He seemed delighted to see me and was quite straightforward. He commanded me to strip and to turn my body this way and that way, which I did expertly, being experienced in modeling and knowing what artists of the male nude wanted.

Knowing also what many of the artists of the male nude wanted to do with their models, I was not surprised when he said, without a modicum of embarrassment or hesitation, "First we fuck, and then I paint. Always I fuck first. It informs my painting."

We did not do so immediately, though. Seligman wanted to charge his paints first, to set his easel and canvas and to set the divan just so. He too used a rich, scarlet silk, seemingly carelessly thrown on the divan, but set just so, nothing careless about it. I assumed this must be some of what Moeller had meant when he said that magnificent painting of his had been done in the style of Seligman.

The walls of the studio were lined with Seligman's work, so as he prepared his paints and set the divan as he wanted it, I drifted around the walls, viewing the paintings. I could see what Moeller meant. It wasn't just the arousing pose of the model, seemingly tousled carelessly in folds of the scarlet silk. It also was the strong brush strokes. The bold strokes that, when scrutinized closely, seemed to be haphazard, wild, almost uncontrolled, but that, as the viewer moved away, all came together. And it came together in tension and unease—a feeling of coldness that was all the more alluring because it contrasted so with the lush setting and vibrant colors, not to mention the sensuality of the model.

It was here that I felt the first chill, felt myself clutch and tighten. At first blush, I hadn't seen the difference, but Moeller was right. There was a difference. Whereas Moeller's study had been alive, arousing, had made me shudder with want, these did something else. I couldn't place it. I moved in closer to the one I was standing in front of again, looking closer into it.

The skin. A slight pallor perhaps, in contrast to Moeller's, where the skin seemed lustrous. Maybe in just this one, I thought. But when I moved down to the next painting, I saw the same thing.

And the eyes. Moeller had said something about the eyes. What was that? He had especially wanted me to scrutinize the eyes. I walked in closer and studied the eyes. Moeller had made the eyes reflect his own lust as he painted me—capturing what he wanted to do with me, what he did do with me. Using me to play his own personal fetish, gaining arousal and satisfaction, for him, that went much further than just fucking.

Seligman's eyes didn't reflect anything like this. In fact, they looked dead to me, as if the model was sleeping with his eyes open—that the model wasn't even here, that he was transported to another realm and had lost his connection to the sensuality of the setting.

All of which accentuated Moeller's talent—his triumph over Seligman. Maybe that's what he was trying to tell me. That I didn't need to search out Seligman. I already was in the presence of the master.

I turned and saw that Seligman was ready, and that he was watching me, his eyes active, alive, full of lust.

I suddenly was scared—without knowing why—and my legs were taking me, slowly, but intentionally toward my clothes, where I had neatly folded and placed them on a straight chair in the shadows. I had seen what Moeller was trying to tell me—or certainly thought I had.

Seligman intercepted me, though. He took my wrist in a firm grip, and I felt all of the power draining out of me. He was a strongly built man, with a grip of steel. But it was his bearing and the power of his eyes that held me. I whimpered under his grip, but I made no physical effort to resist him. The trembling that went through my body was contradictory. I was frightened, but I was also aroused—more aroused than I had been with Moeller. I was hyperventilating, but my body was telling me that something was happening, something I'd never experienced before, something I wanted to know about, to experience.

As we moved to the divan, Seligman was unbuttoning his smock with his other hand. He was naked underneath. Powerful, barrel-chested, heavily muscled, hairy. And in full, monstrous erection.

He gave me no time. He simply pushed me down on my back on the divan, a fist buried in my sternum, holding me on the divan both physically and by overpowering mental control. I was gasping for breath. His other hand was underneath one of my thighs, high up, spreading and lifting my leg with superhuman strength. The bulb of his cock at my hole. Not giving me time. Demanding entrance—and despite my cries and the reluctance of my opening, gaining entrance and relentlessly pushing me open and moving deep inside me.

I writhed under him, entwining myself in the scarlet silk, achieving, I suddenly realized, the effect of the silk draping in the paintings that lined the walls, the paintings screaming at me to escape. Too late.

His fist was no longer on my sternum. He had raised his hand to my face, the palm of his hand over my mouth, his thumb and a finger pinching my nose, blocking my air supply.

I was screaming on the inside, gurgling on the outside, my hips churning in response to his plowing cock, one of my fists clutching at the silk, the other wrapped around my own cock and pumping away. I couldn't breathe and specks were floating in my eyes, dimming out the piercing gaze in his own eyes, holding me in thrall underneath him as strongly as he was doing with the strength of his body. But still my body wanted this. My hand on my cock, working to bring my arousal to the heights, screamed that I wanted this.

He was fucking me like I'd never been fucked before, and my hand was working my cock—involuntarily—because at the same time that I was deeply frightened, sensing that I was fighting for my life, I wanted to explode, to ejaculate.

I was close, very close to coming. I wanted to come. I wanted to breathe, but I also wanted to come. This was so much more . . . so much beyond where I'd ever been before.

But then Seligman stopped. He held me tight, not letting me move a muscle, not moving himself, held me on the edge. And he released his stifling grip on my nose and mouth.

And I gasped for air. I couldn't move, but my lungs were burning and expanding and contracting in my chest cavity—fighting to take in as much oxygen as possible, to replace what they had been denied for so long, almost too long.

But that's not what I wanted to be moving. I wanted his cock to be moving inside me. He slapped my hand away from my own cock and gripped my wrist, holding me away from finishing myself.

"No, please," I was whimpering as I felt myself moving away from satisfaction, losing the roaring sensation of the approaching ejaculation. I didn't think I'd whispered that aloud, but he reacted as if he had heard me. "Please finish me."

He smiled a sneery smile. A "look who is in control" smile. And his eyes. They possessed me. Not unlike the look in Moeller's eyes when he took me. I realized this was a fetish with me—seeing that look in my lover's eyes. There was a wildness in Seligman's eyes, triggered, I now realize, by the fear in my eyes combined with need as he took my breath away while fucking me—and took me to the edge and back and then to the edge again. This is what he liked best, I realized. This look of terror edged with lust in his lover's eyes. This was his fetish. What completed him.

Or was that true? Thinking back on the difference between his paintings and those of Moeller—the treatment of the eyes—I began to think, with increasing trepidation, that maybe it wasn't the mixed look of fear and lust that completed Seligman, that was his fetish. Maybe it was the dull look in his lover's eyes when Seligman was done—when he had choked the life out of his lover. I moaned at the thought—at the danger of it. And, at the same time, my arousal went to new heights.

I murmured, "No, please," again as I felt his hand gripping my chin again, closing again over my nose and mouth. And as I fought for breath again, he recommenced the plowing of his cock. Working me, bringing me to the edge again. I was beginning to black out again. I was . . . right there . . . on the edge. Both edges. The edge of blacking out, the edge of exploding in the most complete ejaculation I'd ever experienced. Wanting breath, wanting the ejaculation. Want fighting want.

And then the release on my mouth and nose, the gasping for breath, the pounding headache. But at the same time, the denial of ejaculation. Holding me still, making me fall off the edge of satisfaction. The jeery smile, the possessing eyes.

The approaching hand; turning my head back and forth, trying to escape the hand, writhing in the silk, but no escape. The fingers pinching my nose, the hand covering my mouth, the cock resuming its deep, possessing thrusts.

The eyes. Oh God, the eyes. Moeller had said, "Look at the eyes." Lifeless.

At the very edge of breathlessness. Not one more second. The glorious release, my release in a cascade of cum up my belly, as I feel the pump of the spurting, the flow, deep inside me. Throbbing temples, spots before my eyes, roaring in my ears. Got to . . . get . . . a brea—

* * * *

I was swimming up from a great depth and slowly becoming aware that I could breathe again—that I was still lying on the divan, entwined in the scarlet silk, but that I was breathing normally. I shuddered and started to move.

"Hold still." It was a command, not a request. And I instantly obeyed. I had known the authority behind that control.

"Stay just as that, please." The voice came from the direction of the easel. I saw from my periphery vision that he was there, behind the easel, painting furiously. Still naked; still in full erection.

I shuddered again, which prompted, "So, you thought that was it, did you? I saw you scrutinizing the eyes in the paintings. You thought of death, did you not? I would have told you—I paint death. I create it, but I do not cause it. I would have told you, but it was better this way, no? More satisfying. Bigger coming. The full range—your fighting wants. It helps with coming. You came well. It takes you to the heights. And watching you—your struggling wants—that takes me to the heights too. I came well too. Very well indeed. My member, it wants it again, now. But it must wait. I am not finished painting."

I opened my mouth to speak.

"No, do not move, please. I'm not finished. Don't speak. When I finish, we do it again, no? You give good fuck. Yes, we do it again, I think."

I shuddered again—but at the same time a chill of arousal went through my body. The height and the depth. Starting anew. The ultimate death. Who said that? That ejaculation was the ultimate death? Some philosopher. Freud? Foucault?

"Yes, yes. I fuck you again, I think. And maybe this time I go all the way. Yes? No?" This was followed by a deep-throated laugh. "No, do not speak. I just toy with you . . . maybe." And then the laugh again.

And I shuddered again. Not only at the thought of him doing it again—and maybe not joking about not stopping. But also because I wanted it again.

Looking For Katie Pt. 01



(c) Copyright 2008 Shiny See. ALL Rights Reserved

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author.  Edited by Mistress Penelope

Authors note: No physical sexual acts occur with minors. All depicted acts ultimately are between persons over 18 years of age. Some are incestuous in nature. If this offends you don't read it, move on to another story.

._oO0Oo_.

Preamble

Recently I nearly lost a close and dear friend. This brush with eternal separation reminded me of someone that was lost to me many years ago.

So I had to write this.

I've changed the names and filled in the quiet moments with porn but Katie, Beth and Katie's dad will still recognise themselves.

Katie? If you're out there? Drop us a line. A post card would do.

Looking For Katie

By Shiny See

Part One

When I was a lad, back in 1973, I lived a fairly normal suburban life. I was a good lad, middle boy of three. I worked part-time at the local bookstore; I was on the swim team at school and I'd even had a steady girlfriend until she ditched me for an older guy. Like I said a pretty average suburban life. And then Katie arrived. She moved in to the two-story villa a couple of houses down from us. The rest of her family moved in as well but I didn't pay them much attention at the time.

Mum, being the neighbourly sort, had us boys troop down and give them a hand moving in. My brothers and I all tried to tell Mum that we had better things to do. I guess the transition from hanging out; bored, to active focused and busy was too abrupt. Besides, when mum gets her mind set on something we had no chance to do anything but comply.

Mum loaded me up with a tray carrying a pot of fresh coffee, milk, sugar, teaspoons, 'cups for Africa' and a plate of cookies. My two brothers had managed to skip out without having to take anything. Mum hauled aloft a huge tray of sandwiches and filled rolls. She was quite miffed at my brothers for leaving us with the load. I smiled inwardly and displayed my best, martyred expression. It was always good to score points on my brothers. They were going to get a good talking to.

I was the last to get there. There is an inherent instability to carrying so much stuff. The cups all seemed to grow legs and try to suicide off the edge of the tray. As things happened, arriving last was the best thing that could have happened to me. My big brother was already commandeered to one end of a huge cupboard and my younger brother was assigned to move a pile of boxes on the back of a trailer nearly twice his height. I had to smile.

That's when I met Katie.

Mum was already being ushered indoors by a tall rather stern looking woman who glanced over her shoulder at me with what I thought for a second was a snarl. I'm sure it was supposed to be a smile but me goose bumps anyway, creepy. I wasn't eager to catch up with mum. I was half way up the three steps that rose to the front porch when Katie came barrelling out the door, blonde hair flying.

That was Katie to a T. Wherever she was going, what ever she was doing, she was full speed ahead, no hesitations, and no doubts.

Katie's blue eyes dazzled me and I nearly dropped the tray. I must admit; having Katie come to a screeching stop only a fraction of an inch away from total catastrophe didn't help my balancing act. One cup did decide that it had had enough and took a header off the tray. Before it could end it's slightly stained existence, shattered on the concrete steps, Katie snatched it out of the air.

"Hi I'm Katie," she said and she took my heart right then and there.

I nearly over balanced when my knees went soft and my cock became hard. Loss of blood pressure in the brain I guess. Katie reached out and grabbed my shoulder to steady me. That moved her even closer. Her scent was light and floral, her touch electric.

And then there were two of them. For a second I thought I was seeing double. She had the same grin the same blue eyes and the same hair. I blinked. They were both still there. This new angel was grinning at me.

Katie was wearing a white t-shirt that said "Beat me I'm bad!" emblazoned across her pleasantly formed chest and dark blue shorts, this new slightly smaller vision had on a light floral wraparound sundress.

"This is my sister Be'elzebub." Katie said with a laugh. Be'elzebub didn't look too impressed. 

"Elizabeth, actually, but friends call me Beth." Be'elzebub said with a frown directed at her sister.

"Hi I'm..." dumbstruck ... er ... what was my name? "Steve."

"Oo ... how clever. A boy that can remember his own name," Beth fired at me.

"I'm sorry, I'm terrible with names. You were ... Be'el ... Be'elze ... don't tell me I'll remember...." Katie laughed. Suddenly I was a having a great day. The most beautiful girl in the world was laughing at something I'd said.

"Elizabeth." She smiled, glanced at her older sister and continued, "But you can call me Beth." There was an echo of her mother's snarl in that smile and fire and ice in her eyes. I had another attack of goose pimples and I was careful that some of the women in this family were dangerous. She walked down the steps and began to unload the back seat of a car.

"Don't mind her." Katie said in between chuckles, "I think she likes you." 

"Then I'd hate to see her if she was angry."

"Oh that's a given." She smiled, "Come inside."

Now there was a phrase that I didn't expect to hear her say again, in totally different circumstances mind you, within a month. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Katie was my age plus a couple of months and I discovered to my delight we had many of the same classes. Because I was her neighbour and all round friendly chap, it fell to me to be her buddy at school for a couple of days while she became oriented.

Katie was way ahead of our class in math but woefully behind in history and social studies so once again I was volunteered to get her up to speed. This meant spending a couple of nights a week coaching her. Did I mind? Not on your Nelly! Tuesdays and Thursdays were marked down on my calendar in thick black marking pen.

I ended up spending more than just a couple of hours a week with the most beautiful girl in the world, Beth and my younger brother became quite good friends as well and on the weekends we were either at our place, we had a swimming pool or round at Katie's, they had tether tennis and croquet. Beth was a mean croquet player and I guessed, deadly with a pool cue too.

After school one Thursday I grabbed my history books and strolled around to Katie's. I didn't bother knocking at the front door; I went straight around back as usual. I had one hand on the doorknob when I saw them through the window. Katie's dad was pounding away on top of her. I could see his thick cock thrusting into his daughter's rose pink snatch again and again.

Kids these days would probably know what to do. They have sex education and are warned against strangers and anyone trying to touch their private places, but in the 70's you were lucky to get a nod and a wink from your old man. My dad went considerably further than most but nothing he talked about covered a situation like this. I knew a fair amount about sex and wanted it badly. Seeing Katie's dad getting some ... with my Katie shocked me speechless. I didn't know what to do. There was no way, in my parochial mind, for something like this to be happening voluntarily. My Katie was being raped by her father!

I nearly went home and rang the police.

I didn't though, and to this day I'm not sure why. I walked down to the park and sat under a tree wondering why my life seemed strangely disjointed, swirling around upside down.

It was at least a half an hour before I could get my head together and I decided that I would go back and have another look. If something was wrong I would still be able to ring for help.

Everything seemed normal. It was creepy. Beth was helping her scowling mum in the kitchen and Katie was sitting at the table with her homework out, ready for me. Of her dad, there was no sign. Everything was normal. Yeah, right.

Katie was warm and bubbly and she patted the chair beside her. I was still a bit stunned and stood in the open doorway blinking for a bit. Had I seen what I had seen? Had I really seen Katie on her back with her legs spread wide and her father thrusting his cock into her? Maybe I had gone to the next-door house by mistake. No way. No chance.

I sat down beside Katie. Her hair was damp as if she had just had a shower and her light perfume was fresh and just a tad cloying. I showed her the important sections to read and sat back still not quite sure what I should be doing. Katie started reading but she kept stopping and giving me a questioning look.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

"Are you?" I whispered back.

Katie leaned closer. "What do you mean?" 

What was I going to tell her? The truth I guess; she had a good ear for a lie. "I ... I saw you ... earlier." Swallow that lump in your throat boy. "I came 'round earlier ... and saw you ... with ... with your dad ... on the couch." I was blushing bright red. "Are you okay?"

Katie went pale and looked over her shoulder at the kitchen. "I'm ... I'm just fine, honestly." She took my hand, "but you've got to promise me that you won't tell anyone. It's no body's business," she looked over her shoulder again, "not even mum's." She looked a little coldly at me. She was her mother's daughter and a chill ran down my spine. "I suppose you want something ... something to keep you quiet."

"What?" All right I admit it. I'm a bit slow on the uptake sometimes.

"What do I have to do so that you will keep your mouth shut?" her eyes were like ice fire. And I had thought her sister was the dangerous one.

"Huh? Sorry I don't understand." It was true my thick and addled head didn't understand what Katie was on about. "I saw you and ... and I thought ... I thought he was raping you!" I said remembering to keep my voice down but only just. "Are you okay?"

"You thought he was raping me?" she looked into my eyes lie detector out in full force.

"Yeah. I thought he was raping you." If he was not raping Katie then ... then ... oh god, was she fucking her dad willingly? She said it was no body's business especially not her mother's if that look was anything to go by. She was! She was fucking her dad! My mind whirled and swirled.

"You're not going to faint on me are you?" Katie gripped my hand tightly. The angry blaze was gone from her eyes, replace with concern. Katie was concerned for me? My world was upside down. "You're lookin' kind of pale for a while there pardner," she said in her best John Wayne accent. It was so bad I had to laugh.

"So were you." I put my hand to my heart and one lofted square at my shoulder and looked her in the eyes. Always the best place. "I promise not to tell and..." I swallowed; this should sell it. "... and I promise not to ask." What did I just say? I promise not to ask? What lunacy? Of course I wanted to know what was going on but I guess a part of mum's training had rubbed off on me. A friend doesn't ask; friends are there with their support always. End of story.

"Really?"

I didn't say anything. I raised one eyebrow and I tried to look as earnest as possible, not as easy as it might seem. One hand was still resting on my racing heart and the other still raised.

Katie's face flushed and she squeezed up closer to me with a smile that melted my heart. "I knew you would be a good friend. You deserve something," she whispered right into my ear, "something very special." Her tongue licked me and I nearly jumped out of my seat. My heart was already racing but it cranked up it's pace another notch and I was scared my instant hard-on would upset the table. 

Katie placed her hand into my raised one and lowered it. As her hand began to return to her side it drifted slowly across my hard cock and she stopped and squeezed it. Deliberately. 

Now as I said, I did have a girl friend before Katie and we had got into some hot sessions kissing and pressing up against each other. I had even felt her breasts ... from outside her blouse. I was sure there was a nipple under there somewhere, under the thick school blouse, under the heavy-duty bra. She seemed to like it ... I think. Never, but never did her hands go anywhere below my belt. I lie. She touched my knees some times. Katie had my cock in her hand! I was beginning to like this upside down world.

Katie had a fire in her eyes again but it wasn't a cold flame it was HOT! She glanced over her shoulder and then she leaned in and we kissed.

Our kiss was soft and gentle until she squeezed my cock again and in my surprised delight my jaw dropped open. Katie speared my mouth with her tongue and our kiss became hot and hard. The hand on my heart turned and this time I could definitely feel a nipple and it was hard and just the tiniest distance away, under her light t-shirt. It was hard and I gave it a squeeze. Katie kissed me harder and gave my cock another squeeze and I nearly came in my pants!

I pulled away, embarrassment flooding through me. Katie's hand released me but lay close by, on my thigh, just in case it was needed again.

"I'm sorry I didn't want to make you ... pop ... not here," she looked over her shoulder, "not now," she leaned back and our kiss resumed not so hard and not so heavy but just as nice. Katie made sure I kept my hand were it was fondling her breast and worshipping her nipple.

"Ewww ... kissing ... that's yucky! Mummy's gonna pitch a fit if she catches you" Beth whispered to us. GOD! She was standing right beside me and I hadn't noticed her.

"Kissing you is yucky," Katie said with a chuckle and Beth blushed. "Kissing Steve is lovely, and if you tell I'll ... I'll tan your hide!" Beth laughed and blushed again. Why was Beth blushing? Women, I admit it; they baffle me.

We did get some homework done, but not much, and Beth was a pretty good chaperone warning us when the dragon in the kitchen approached. I didn't want to go home for dinner. I didn't want to go anywhere Katie wasn't.

I must admit this upside down world needed a lot of thinking to understand it and I got lost in my musings dozens of times that night, hell I got lost walking home and discovered I'd overshot our gate by a house and a half. I was interminably slow setting the table for dinner and by all accounts a poor conversationalist while we ate. I lost count of how many times I returned to my body with mum snapping her fingers in front of my nose demanding attention.

I tried to watch the telly but it didn't make much sense, I tried to read, but in upside down world all the words seemed to have their meanings sucked out. I decided to have a shower and go to bed. I jerked off in my room before I had a shower. I jerked off in the shower. And I jerked off went I went to bed and still my cock was hard and I could still feel Katie's fingers locked around it.

While I nodded, clearly napping, there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. Yeah, right. My half-dream state had my head swirling. My chamber was a half converted laundry with a sloping concrete floor and no lining on the walls, just the exterior weatherboards. There were chinks and holes everywhere. Dad promised to get it all fixed up before winter. Yeah, right.

The rapping came again. What was going on? I opened my eyes and there were a dozen shafts of light blazing across my room, moonbeams filtering through the cracks in the rough weatherboards. A cloud rolled over the moon and my room sank into total darkness again. At the window there was a rapping. I blinked. Katie! Katie was a rapping, hopping up and down outside my window!

As I said, my room was a half converted laundry and what use would a laundry be without an external door? I reached for the old rusty key and hoped the door would still open without raising the household as it squealed and uttered otherworldly groaning. The lock turned and the hinges creaked, a bit. The door was stiff but it did open and Katie came flying in. She bowled me over and pushed me back onto my narrow bed, her lips locked to mine.

Katie ground her pelvis into my hardness and I had to gasp. "You're not going to blow your load right now are you?" she teased rubbing hard. "Daddy warned me you'd cum quickly." Katie's eyes, glittering in the moonbeams, transfixed me. She grinned and wriggled again. "You can cum now if you want to. I don't mind." She chuckled and wriggled again.

I kissed her and squeezed her buttocks, thrusting my hardness at her. I was kind of glad that I had wanked earlier or I'm sure I would have cum in my pyjamas right then and there.

"Ohh I like the feel of that ... hmmm ... and I want to feel it inside me." More kissing. "Daddy says you have to wear these," she raised her hand and a dozen condoms flip-flopped down into a dimpled ribbon, "but I think your first time should be bare," she wriggled, "skin against skin, hot flesh inside hot flesh." There was more kissing. "It is your first time, isn't it?" blue eyes flashed in the dark.

Nothing but truth remember. I gulped. "Yes."

The eyes in the dark sparkled and then there was a grin appearing like the Cheshire cat's. Katie wriggled. "I always wanted to take a guy's cherry," she whispered in my ear.

Suddenly something that Katie had said rebounded into my mind. I sat up. "You told your dad?"

Katie took the opportunity to lean back as well, she was breathing deeply, almost panting and she gripped the front of her nightdress and whipped it over her head. She was naked underneath. She pounced and pushed me back down, her mouth urgent on mine. We kissed for forever or so it seemed. And then we rested again. I had never touched a naked girl before. Never been kissed by a naked girl before. Hmmm upside down world, I think I love you!

"Of course I told daddy," Katie sighed, "I thought it only polite to tell him I was taking another lover." More kisses.

"Your daddy's your," I shut my mouth quickly nearly biting my tongue in the process. "Sorry promised not to ask, forget you ever...."

"Shhh." Katie pressed a finger across my lips. I licked it and she giggled. "Now! Off with yer kit. I'm jest 'opin' I ain't bought no pig-in-a-poke." She poked me in the ribs and tickled. Oh dear I was in trouble. I squirmed and cried and begged and she stopped. I just lay there panting. I'm sooo ticklish. It's unmanly but I can't help it.

"Come on," Katie giggled and threatened me with the tip of her finger. I writhed away gasping, but loving every second of her threat. I was sorely tempted to let her catch me so she could hold me down and tickle me some more ... maybe later. I wriggled off the end of my bed. Katie twisted around and sat on the edge with her arms wide, beckoning. 

I took one step closer and grabbed the bottom edge of my pyjama top. I took another and ripped it upwards over my head just as she had done with her nighty. At least that was the way it was supposed to go. Probably would have worked better if I'd undone a couple of buttons first. I was stuck in a tangle of my pyjamas with my elbows somehow locked over my head.

Katie just laughed and grabbed me. Her arms encircled my waist and she blew raspberries on my stomach and tongued my navel. I was still stuck with my elbows trapped above my head and I struggled to free myself but it was hopeless. I felt fingers running around the elastic of my pyjama shorts and they reached in and peeled them down my legs. I could feel Katie's hot breath move across my cock and then something else, something wet.

Katie moaned and I could feel the vibrations through that wet thing that was sliding across my little head. Oh god! That was Katie's mouth! She was rubbing her lips across my cock! Oh god! Katie's mouth wasn't on my cock any more it was all around my cock! I could feel her tongue slipping around my glans and my knees trembled. "Oh Katie ... oh ... if ... oh ... if you keep ... keep on doing ... oh Katie!" my knees were shaking now.




Looking For Katie Pt. 02



(c) Copyright 2008 Shiny See. ALL Rights Reserved

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author.  Edited by Mistress Penelope

Authors note: No physical sexual acts occur with minors. All depicted acts ultimately are between persons over 18 years of age. Some are incestuous in nature. If this offends you don't read it, move on to another story.




"You have to come over, after dinner; after seven-thirty. Mum's going out." Katie was leering again as she leaned on her gate.

"What about Beth and,"

"Daddy will, er, look after Beth. Don't worry about it." Katie grinned and walked to her front door.

I wandered on to my place still lost in upside down land. My younger brother was intolerable when I arrived home. He'd heard it from ... from someone who'd talked to so-and-so and now my older brother had confirmed it. I had a girlfriend. Steve's got a girlfriend. Steve's got a girlfriend. Steve's got a girlfriend. Steve's got a girlfriend. Steve's got a girlfriend. Steve's got a girlfriend. Steve's got a girlfriend. I don't think he knew it was Katie. That wouldn't have mattered in the least, it was just something he could try and beat me up with. Me? I didn't care that he knew I just wanted him to SHUT THE FUCK UP! Strangely enough my big brother took pity on me and dragged him off to the shops for a while.

Mum worked late on Friday nights so it was only dad that I had to coerce into letting me see Katie. Not that I put it like that, "She's borrowed a ... a book that I needed for a report I'm working on this weekend." Anything to do with advancing my education was 'A1' as far as dad was concerned. It was too easy really. Didn't even say anything, just nodded and waved his hand at me.

I went straight 'round to the back door as usual. Katie was sitting on the couch looking demure, reading a book. Her eyes lit up and the book hit the floor the moment she saw me. I tiptoed in and Katie bounced over to me, wrapping her arms around me and giving me the noisy wet kiss I had been waiting all evening for.

"Where is everybody?" I whispered.

"Out. Daddy knows I want a little ... quiet time with you." She chuckled and ground her pelvis into me. She sniffed, "You're a bit smelly." And grinned, "Shall we have a shower?"

I must confess to wanting to toss her onto the couch and fuck her immediately, but a shower sounded nice too. Damn it, I was too much of a gentleman to go against my Katie's wishes, at least I was then. Later though, when I knew Katie a bit better I did find the courage to toss her to the ground, couch, table, what ever was handy, and rip off a quick one. Especially when I knew she liked me taking charge like that. I think she was 'ripping off a quick one' with her dad that day I spied them going for it on the couch.

Katie wanted a slow start to the evening's pleasure but she didn't tease me. She knew what I wanted and after we had gotten wet and kissed and soaped each other up and kissed and rubbed our slippery bodies together and kissed some more, she reached down and slipped my hardness into her wet heat and I took her standing up, our wet bodies slapping together, pressed up against the tiles. This time I was quick. Much quicker than I expected to be. Katie's 'love tunnel' was hyper-sensory overload for me. She didn't seem to mind at all.

"I love feeling your body go into overdrive when you cum." She said as I trembled and panted, my knees shaking. "Makes me even hornier." We kissed and slid our bodies together. "Suck me Stevie, suck me off." She panted into my ear. So I did.

I slid down her slim body to my knees and squatted between her thighs, the hot water pounding on my head. I leaned in and ran my tongue around her belly button and Katie squirmed. My hands were helping me balance as they slid slowly up and down her thighs. I kissed and licked my way down her tummy and over her soft blonde pubes. Her knees opened for me and I wormed my way in closer. Katie's pink slash glistened. I had only seen hints of it last night and now I was entranced. Thick white cum was slowly dripping from her magnificent opening, mingling with the hot water and dissolving away as it ran down her thighs. I didn't care. I had tasted my cum more than once last night and if Katie could handle it so could I. It was my cum after all.

I opened her lips wider with my tongue and Katie sighed. I sucked her clit and flicked it half a dozen times with the tip of my tongue and her legs shook. "Oh yeah baby suck me off, suck momma off!" I sucked and licked and licked and sucked and her hips began to gyrate. Katie's hands were clasped firmly on the back of my head and she was fucking my face with intermittent spasms. When my tongue tired, (now who would ever have thought about having a tired tongue? Only in upside down land!) I sucked and sucked on that little nubbin of hot flesh. When the feeling returned to my tongue I licked her button like a cat at the cream.

Katie's puss got even wetter if that was possible in a shower and she began humping my face and humping it and humping it with ever greater urgency. It made zeroing in on her clit a little tricky but Katie's screams and cries rewarded my efforts. After trembling for the longest time, all the while rubbing her puss in my face, Katie relaxed and sagged to the floor, into my arms. She looked flushed, as is she had just run a marathon. All right, a half-marathon.

"I love you baby," I whispered into her mouth as we kissed and her sparkling eyes popped open, lie detector at the ready. She didn't need it so she put it away. Her kisses be came more insistent and then the water began to cool. We shared a towel and walked naked through the house to her room. That was an erotic experience all by itself. I was hardly ever in the nude except in my room and the bathroom. My life was filled with little titillating marvels.

There was not much evidence of lacy things in Katie's room. Not that there was none, just that lace didn't dominate. There was the usual assortment of posters on the walls, most of the current rock gods were there: Beatles, Zeppelin, Clapton, Jagger, same as now really. She didn't have a double bed but it was a damn side bigger than mine.

To tell the truth, I was quite nervous, love-struck but nervous none the less. While I had somehow managed to pull off a miracle last night I had no notion of how I was going to ... to perform tonight. I shouldn't have worried. It was like ballroom dancing, one partner skilfully leading the other. Katie showed the way gently and sometimes firmly as she revealed how I could give her pleasure with my hands and mouth and cock and much else besides. At some stage I heard sounds in the house but nothing came close to interfering with our lovemaking.

I wasn't snoozing, honestly; I just had my eyes closed. I was wide-awake with my returning hard-on still buried in Katie's arsehole. I was lying on my right side, spooned up behind her, fucking slowly in and out. Katie was purring, slowly returning my thrusts.

The door opened just a crack and I opened my eyes just enough to see through my eyelashes. Katie stopped moving so I become motionless as well. It was Katie's dad. No matter how times Katie had referred to dad as her lover and how he arranged this time for us to be together, I still expected him to call us out. He didn't. He crept in, quiet as a mouse and knelt down beside Katie's face. He leaned in and gave her a tiny peck on the cheek.

"How are you babe?" he whispered.

"Huh? What time is it daddy?" the sly doggy, Katie was pretending to be asleep too.

"Early enough princess, the dragon won't be home for hours yet."

"Good." She wriggled. I watched her hand reach out and worm its way into her father pants. "Daddy, you're still hard. Didn't Beth?" she whispered. Didn't Beth what, I thought? And then it hit me, Beth too? My semi-hard snapped to attention. Was Katie's dad fucking both his daughters?

"It's the smell in here, pure rut. You're going to have to open a window."

"Later daddy, come here." Her fingers expertly flicked open the button on his pyjama pants and they fell away. She pulled his hard cock closer and she leaned in and took him into her mouth.

"My daughter's a wicked girl," he said, and I realised he was looking at me, right at me. Suddenly my quite rational fear of being caught fucking someone's daughter evaporated. I had no need to hide from this father; his dick was in his daughter's mouth!

I opened my eyes and grinned, "Lucky us."

Katie's dad laughed, then groaned as Katie pulled away from him. "Lucky me!" she declared. She winked at me over her shoulder and she rolled her hips. "We are gonna get up now, and you're gonna stay inside me, yes?" Katie had asked the same question a little earlier; made the same demand except in reverse. We had cum to a grinding, orgasmic halt after my first experience butt fucking. She had wanted to rest but still feel me inside her. I was still there and getting harder.

"Sure babe, on three?" I replied, she grinned and nodded.

"One, Two, Three!" Katie punctuated each count with a hip thrust. I don't know how we managed it but with way too much giggling for what was surely a federal offence, we did it, I was back on my knees with Katie's butt hole still firmly clasping my cock. What was she up to?

I discovered very quickly what she was planning when Katie, who was now on all fours, lifted her arm and her dad crawled in beneath her. There was some more wriggling and giggling before the penny dropped. Oh! Was that what she was going to do? Wow!

I've never had such intimate contact with another man's genitals. Feeling our scrotums rub together when we were totally inside his daughter was ... disconcerting at first, but it wasn't bad enough for me to consider withdrawal. Katie was in a world of her own, hissing and squealing.

Despite the lack of coordination between Katie's dad and me, Katie was already cumming wildly, that is, if the contractions I could feel spasming around my cock were any guide.

Almost from the moment her dad's cock was lined up I could feel her body pulse and spasm. By the time she had her dad seated in her pussy as deeply as I was in her arse she was gasping and hissing, not like a cat, more like a kettle on the boil.

At various times Katie's dad and I would slip into sync, moving deep into her at the same time but it never lasted very long, Katie's orgasmic spastic thrashing always drove me off beat. Between you and me, I think Katie was beyond caring whether we fucked her in sync or not.

The screaming did eventually die down to a gentle whimper but Katie wasn't going to let things lie. "Fuck me lovers," she groaned, "Fuck all of your cum into me. I know you want to daddy that's why you didn't wear a condom, you wanted to blow you load inside your little girl, well do it daddy, fucking well cum in me daddy, cum in me!"

I knew what Katie wanted from me, without a word. She wanted me to let rip, to unleash the lusting, raging animal inside me, to fuck her as hard and fast as I could. Cum in two strokes or twenty, Katie didn't care, she just wanted it real and unguarded, honest rut she called it.

Katie got just what she asked for and she was cumming again as I shot my load into her rear. Her dad came seconds later and we all collapsed into a sweaty heap.

"I think we're all lucky." Katie sighed.

._oO0Oo_.

Boy was I in trouble when I got home. When I arrived home from school I hadn't noticed that my bed had been made. My bed was made, so what, but as I approached my house, my knees still week from that last fuck with Katie, I could hear mum and dad having an argument and my sheets kept on being mentioned.

"She been in here, she's been in his bed! I didn't come down in the last shower you know. I know what a bed looks like after it's been fucked in!" Wow. In the upside down world my mum knows how to swear. I had never heard my mum say 'fuck' before. I certainly wasn't willing to show myself. I stayed quiet hoping that dad would say something in my defence. Dad? Anyone?

"Could be worse." Finally dad spoke. Whew.

"How?"

"You said that there were condoms."

"So what?"

"Sounds like he's acting responsibly."

"Responsibly?"

"Yeah, responsibly. He's showing that he knows coping with a pregnancy at his age would be pretty tough. We used condoms for years successfully. He's a smart kid." Hear that mum, I'm smart. I was a little embarrassed to think that I had not actually used any of the condoms.

"Look Deirdre, if the kids wanna fuck, they're gonna fuck. You won't stop 'em. And I would prefer that it happened here where it's safe rather than out there somewhere, in the back of a car, or out at Chip's Point." Chip's Point was the local 'Lover's Lane'. Hmmm, sounds interesting, now all I need is a car.

"I guess you're right. You're going to have to give the boy a good talking to though. I won't have this house disrespected!"

Dad chuckled. "So tell me dear where did you loose you virginity?" Yeah mum, tell us?

"You know as well as I do." Suddenly mum's voice had a husky tone.

"Where?" dad asked again.

"On the couch in the sun porch at home, you know very well Henry Jones, you were there!"

"But we weren't married were we?"

"No." Pause

"And how old were you?" another long pause.

"Fifteen."

"And I was twenty." Dad! You dirty old cradle snatcher! "And we didn't even use protection! Just how fucked up our lives would have been if you had gotten pregnant then?"

"I guess so."

"So, were you disrespecting you father's home?"

"Well, maybe just a bit."

"You were the one who wasn't wearing underwear! What's a man to do when an adorably sexy girl-child climbs into his lap?"

"Stop it Henry Jones. You're ... you're confusing the issue."

"Am I? You're the one who is angry; you're the one who is projecting fear." Oh dear. It's tough to get away with anything when your dad's a psychologist. I've always tried to use misdirection but even then I had to be totally cool about it. Do parents actually teach their children to lie?

"You're right I am angry, and confused. I want some ground rules. Does her mother know? Or her father?"

"Probably not, did you tell yours?"

Silence. I still wasn't ready to go inside. Not until they had reached some kind of consensus. 

"All right I'll speak to the boy. I'll set some guide lines, if that's possible."

"I don't want them ... flaunting ... they'll have to ... do it in his room. I don't want to come home and find them entertaining Kyle while they ... they fuck on the couch. You know how he's into peeking at the moment."

"All right no fucking on the couch, and no flaunting. I'll try. I promise. Anything else?"

"Condoms."

"Sexual health and pregnancy is already on my list."

"Good."

"Anything else?"

More silence.

"Not that I can think of right now. I'm going to have a shower and go to bed. I've had a harrowing day."

"I'll be up in a minute."

"No you won't you're gonna sit there until your promiscuous son comes home."

"I wonder where he gets that from?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh just thinking back to a certain little miss no-pants." And then there was a muffled squeal from mum.

"Stop it Henry Jones, you put me down."

"Down right here?"

"Ohh you know I like that ... stop it ... ohhh ... stop it ... now. What if he comes in and sees us?"

"Might get a few tips you mean?"

"Oh you're incorrigible Henry Jones."

"Well stop in-corraging me." Mum gasped and then giggled. I could hear the chair creak and then it creaked again and again. Wow. In upside down world my mum seduced my dad when she was only fifteen and she seems enjoy fucking dad in a chair. I wondered just how long I was going to have to wait out here.

Well I got my talking to. It wasn't too bad. I would be careful that my younger brother wouldn't catch a glimpse let alone a whole peek.

Dad also helped me oil the lock and the external door's hinges and he took me to the store the next day and bought me a new bed. It wasn't a double but it was big enough for two ... just.



Looking For Katie Pt. 03



(c) Copyright 2008 Shiny See. ALL Rights Reserved

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author.  Edited by Mistress Penelope

Authors note: No physical sexual acts occur with minors. All depicted acts ultimately are between persons over 18 years of age. Some are incestuous in nature. If this offends you don't read it, move on to another story.





It was a very warm night, too warm for even the modesty provided by a sheet. The outside door was open in the hope of catching a stray breeze. Katie appeared as a sexy silhouette framed in it. A broad smile spread across my face. Her nighty was almost transparent revealing her wonderfully curvy body.

"It's too hot in here," she said as she walked in and sat on the edge of my bed. She leaned in for our first kiss of the night. I had discovered that Katie's first kiss was a good indicator of just how horny she was. From long slow and sensual to hot and hard and every flavour in between, Katie's kisses told me just what I needed to know about where she was at.

Tonight? Tonight Katie was fired up but there was something she was holding back, something that was making her really hot as it burnt, confined.

"Let's do it outside," she whispered into my mouth. Katie's eyes sparkled. May be that was it. I was always amazed at the way Katie would fence hop in just her nighty, from her place to mine. I would love to watch her one night. She almost always arrived excited, fizzing. Being outside, almost naked, seemed to be a turn on for her, and I wondered for a moment what would happen when winter rolled around?

"Sure," I said with an enthusiastic grin. My hands were already under that transparent nighty and caressing her smooth skin, softly stroking her thighs, around her back, her small firm breasts, paying special attention to her sensitive nipples. Katie was purring and she sounded disappointed when I rolled away. Well? What did she want? Inside or outside? But she was grinning wildly as she stood up, so I guessed I had made the right choice.

I grabbed my blanket, which was rolled up on the end of my bed, as I got to my feet and Katie smiled as she wrapped her arms around me. Mmm, more kissing.

"That was to say thank you," she glanced down at the blanket in my hand and back into my eyes. "I've trained you well." I reached out for the box of condoms and Katie stopped me. "And you won't need those tonight." When was she 'ripe'? That's what Katie called it, when I had to use condoms, when she was fertile. Ripe. Made me hard just thinking about it.

._oO0Oo_.

Despite all Katie's training, I hadn't mastered thinking in a lunar calendar yet, or in Katie's case twenty-six and a half day month. Give me time. I'd get the hang of it. Katie and I had only been lovers for six weeks, two days and twenty odd hours. I'd only experienced one period. I wasn't totally stupid. I knew that women bled every month but damn I got a fright one night to find Katie's most beautiful pussy bleeding. God! I thought I'd hurt her. Katie was pretty embarrassed but she did sigh with relief. I passed her some tissues and she began to clean herself up. 

"So you haven't gotten me pregnant." Of course, I get the picture. I'm slow but I do get there. Katie wanted me to say something. I could see it in her eyes. She wanted me to surprise her again. I could tell that she was pleased with me when I didn't totally freak out at the sight of blood.

"May be next time," popped out of my mouth. I didn't need to hold my breath. Katie just laughed and her eyes sparkled. Bingo! Katie kissed me. That's always cause for celebration.

"One day." She sighed into my mouth. "One day I'll take you up on that most generous offer, but not yet young man." Katie was getting hot again. "I want to have a baby Steve, not now, but one day. I want to feel full of baby, gravid." Katie kissed me hard. "But not today."

I was just amazed and tried to imagine how I would feel if one of my orifices bled every month. Damned inconvenient if you ask me. I was just surprised that Katie wasn't in pain. My only experience with blood involved some level of violence and thus, pain. And here was the most beautiful girl in the world bleeding and grinning.

"Sorry about your sheets." Oh wow. Map of Australia. In blood. Freaky! I washed my bed linen now, part of mum's new regime. I didn't care. I was learning something new about my Katie.

I had learnt lots in the last six weeks, two days and twenty odd hours. I learnt that I was deeply in love with Katie, but I think you know that. So much had happened.

The first night Katie was able to stay for the whole night was wonderful and the next morning, well it was pretty funny. We had been on our first month anniversary date, dinner and a movie, don't know what we watched. We couldn't get home and into bed fast enough. The kicker was that Katie's mother was away for the weekend and I had the most beautiful girl in the world in my bed for the whole night! There is a special magic waking up in your lover's arms.

After a long slow love making session that morning we were both pretty whiffy and it was only natural to put on our bathrobes and go and have a shower, together. Dad was at the breakfast bar reading the paper, mum was floating around with a cup of coffee, I don't know where my younger brother was but my older brother was stuffing clothes into a bag, his surfboard leaning up against the front door.

My big brother's expression was the funniest; his eyes bugged out and his jaw bounced against his knees. He knew Katie and I had a thing but sleeping over? Mum was surprised and became a little skittish. Dad just smiled. He was doing that a lot lately.

Mum flittered about asking Katie if she needed anything, toiletries, a toothbrush?

Dad asked my brother if he had anything to contribute, if not scoot! Thanks dad. My brother scooted. I think that's the first time I made my older brother truly envious. 

Mum looked at her watch, "Oh god. It's so late. What will your mother think, you out all night?"

Katie smiled. "She's away all weekend."

"And your father? Won't he notice?" dad asked.

"He knows." Mum's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "As you might know I don't get on too well with mum," Katie said, "But I can tell dad anything. I told him when I lost my virginity," yeah I can imagine that, 'Oh daddy, daddy, your hard cock's just popped my cherry!' I tried hard not to laugh. "And I told him I was staying overnight. He won't be worried."

"Sensible girl." Dad muttered and went back to his paper. Mum was shocked, surprised and delighted with Katie. Mum had always been a bit stand offish with Katie but that morning changed everything. From then on it was like they were best buddies. I have forgotten the times I would find the two of them chattering away and the moment I would walk into the room they would fall silent, look at me, and almost inevitably mum would giggle. Mum, giggling. I stopped being embarrassed after a while.

And then there was the time I asked dad if I could he could get some more condoms for us.

Mum looked at me with surprise on her face. "But I bought you some the other day, didn't I?"

"Yeah mum but it was just a twelve pack. We need some more." What's the problem?

Mum gasped and turned bright red. Dad laughed and nearly spilt his coffee. What was wrong? So Katie and I had used twelve condoms in two and a half days? What was the issue?

"Hey, you're only young once," dad said with a laugh. Mum joined in a small chuckle but she was still crimson.

._oO0Oo_.

The air was warm and only the streetlights bouncing off the low clouds gave us any illumination at all. There was a coolish breeze and it felt wonderful on my naked skin. Our backyard wasn't large and the aboveground swimming pool occupied a fair chunk of what remained, but there was a nice grassy patch at the far end that looked particularly inviting.

I unfurled my blanket on the grass and Katie and I rolled around together smooching and kissing and generally just rubbing our bodies together. "I wanna suck you," Katie whispered, "stand here."

Stand? My sweet angel wanted to suck me while I was standing? Sure where do you want me? Katie had something specific in mind. There was a whole back yard I could be in but Katie wanted me, right there. Okay. I'm your love slave; put me anywhere.

Katie loves giving me oral but tonight she was sparking. Her eyes were aflame and she grabbed my hips to place me, just so before she took hold of me with her mouth. Her hips were wriggling as if someone was back there working on her pussy, and her sucking was getting harder and faster.

"Oh baby," I muttered as I began fucking her mouth and I wondered just what Katie wanted. Did she want me to let go quickly? She was sucking with enough urgency. I gasped as her tongue whipped around my little head and my hands fell gently to the back of her head. "Oh Katie."

"Oh," said Katie and she backed off with a cheeky grin. "Sorry. I was getting a bit carried away." She sucked me more gently a time or two. "Can you wait a bit?"

Gurgle, strain, "Of course." Gasp. There was something really wicked in her eyes and her little wiggles began to look more familiar. I dragged Katie to the blanket and pulled her on top of me, top-to-tail. Katie squealed happily and climbed on board wriggling her pussy in front of my face but only after we had aligned ourselves to whatever ley line she was using for guidance that night.

Katie's pussy was wet, I mean really wet and my face was covered in her fragrant nectar from chin to forehead in seconds. Katie moaned and thrashed as I licked and suckled my way around her most beautiful pink lips. There was a definite squeal when I started to concentrate on her hot nubbin. I had seen Katie this hot before. Now when was that? And then I remembered.

We had been 'fooling around' on the couch in their sunroom. The same couch I had espied Katie and her dad fucking on. I didn't know where the dragon, Beth or Katie's dad was but if Katie thought it was safe I was happy. Suddenly Katie went from a gentle simmer to a rolling boil. She wanted me hard, fast and NOW! My fingers had been doing a slow dance under her panties. I grabbed the crotch and pulled, in an attempt to slide them off. Her panties didn't budge from around her hips but I did manage to rip the crotch out of them. 

Katie gasped, moaned, writhed and grinned. She was very happy with me. She grabbed my cock and tried to stuff it into her pussy and I still had my pants on. She was so wet and hot. I had never felt her like this. I mean Katie could be hot and then sometimes she would be HOT. The difference? Try the difference between an erupting volcano and the surface of the sun! Her pussy was so wet it was like I was getting sloppy seconds.

Katie started cumming and I ploughed her as hard as I could, pounding quickly into my own pumping cum. It was only then I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I was either in deep shit or everything would be fine. It all depended on which parent this was. It was, of course, Katie's dad and she started to play to him.

"Did you see him daddy. Stevie's cock is inside me daddy. He's been fucking me. Did you see?" God! I was in the middle of some kind of perverted game between a father and his over-sexed daughter. Wasn't I having fun! Katie's 'dirty talk' with her dad was only getting me harder, again. 

"Yes I can see his cock, still inside you, you wicked girl. You know how that makes me feel don't you."

"Yes daddy. I know. It makes you hard, doesn't it daddy." Katie was writhing, wriggling her hips on my cock, getting super wet all over again. "Come here daddy, I'll make you feel better." I started to slowly fuck Katie again and was rewarded with a smile flung over her shoulder. "You don't mind do you?" she asked.

"What ever makes you happy." Katie got very happy with two cocks to order about and bring her pleasure.

Katie's wriggling hips, they were the first clue, how hot and wet she was, was the second. Some one was watching us, I was sure of it. I knew I could get the truth out of her; I started blowing raspberries on her clit. Gets her off every time, really fast.

While she's in the throws of orgasm Katie's quite pliable and easy to move about, she's not a big girl you know. So I flipped out from beneath her and gently rolled her onto her back. Before I returned to making raspberries on her clit I whispered in her ear, "Who's watching?" Katie's eye's popped open and she bit her lower lip. It was going to be like that eh?

Katie had barely started to come down when I began to wind her up again, licking and sucking and just when she least expected it more raspberries. I climbed over Katie's quaking body and pushed my hard cock into her super heated pussy. She gasped and wrapped her legs around my hips. I fucked hard and Katie groaned and hissed.

"Who's watching Katie?" I fucked hard again and Katie's fingers dug into my shoulders. I thrust into her, again and again and it became impossible for Katie to do anything else but moan and groan and gasp for breath.

"Who's watching Katie?"

"Bbb ... ohhh ... be'el ... Ohhhh ... Be'elzebub! OH!"

Be'elzebub? Beth was watching?

"Beth's watching?" I whispered.

"Oh yeah ... she likes watching." Pant, gasp. "You know we wouldn't be here at all," gasp, "if it wasn't for Be'elzebub."

"What?"

"She started it all." Gasp, gasp. "She seduced me first, oh, she did," hiss, "then dad." Gasp, sigh. Beth? Cheeky, dangerous Beth? My upside down world was going topsy-turvy.

I slowed my thrusts into Katie's hot body and looked around. There she was, or rather just the shine of her eyes. The wicked young woman was watching from deep in the shadows.

"You can come out now." She stepped out of the gloom wearing a baby-doll pyjama top and nothing else. "Your sister's just been telling me wild and wicked tales about you."

Beth grinned and she posed coquettishly, pulling down the front of her pyjama top.

I continued to slowly stroke in and out of Katie. She was purring again and kissing my ear. "She told me that you seduced her. Is that right?"

Beth nodded her head, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Well I think we need to talk about it. Why don't you come closer?" I patted the blanket beside us. Beth smiled and bounced over.

"I was ... was worried that we'd shock you." Katie sighed.

"Katie, you can shock me all you want but you'll never disappoint me," I leaned down and Katie rose up and met my lips half way. "I love you Katie." I whispered.

"I love you Steve." Sigh. Katie's pussy pulsed and she squeezed me inside.

"She means that you know. Katie never lies." Beth was now snuggled up beside us. Oh, she can talk can she?

"But don't I remember her saying that kissing you was yucky?"

"Yeah but she was only joking."

"Really? I don't believe it. Kiss her and show me it's not true. Show me that she thinks kissing you isn't yucky."

Beth just grinned and pushed between us. Her lips came down firmly on Katie's, who moaned and opened her mouth to her younger sister. At the same moment Katie's pussy pulsed and she became very wet all over again. Beth's fingers plucked and pulled at her sister's nipples and Katie started writhing. I thrust a little harder and Katie groaned her approval.

"Oh yeah! Fuck me. Fuck me harder. I'm," gasp, "Cuming! OH! OH! OH!" Katie cried out between kisses. Her pussy was going wild on my cock, squeezing me and squeezing me, pulsing and pulsing. Finally Katie lay back panting. She looked so beautiful her face flushed, an enigmatic smile ghosting around the corners of her mouth.

Beth let me have some room and Katie and I kissed slowly and softly. The hot night had us both sweating and our skin slipped sensuously together, hot flesh to hot flesh. "I love you Steve." Katie whispered into my mouth.

"I love you too, sweet Katie. I love you too." I returned truthfully.

"Come on you guys. I'm beginning to feel a bit left out." When we turned to her, Beth had a big smile so I knew she wasn't too serious, but you know what they say, 'Many a truth is spoken in jest'. Katie's eyes met mine and she smiled when she absorbed my relaxed attitude. If she wanted to bring her younger sister in on our love making activities I wouldn't say no. Hell, I hadn't said a thing when she invited her dad to join us; I wasn't going to object to Beth.

We pulled Beth closer for a passionate three-way kiss. Beth squirmed pleasantly as she rid herself of her pyjama top and then it was on for young and old! Beth was as voracious as her older sister, hungry for my lips and tongue as she was for her sister's. She was just as eager for the feel of hands on her body; her nipples were hard before my fingers even touched them. She hissed and arched her back when I began sucking on them. She gasped when Katie began exploring her pussy.

"OH! Yeah Katie, you know just what I need, you always do. OH!"

"Yes I do don't I?" Katie chuckled. "And I know what you want now don't I? What you need."

"Will he mind? Do you mind? I know I promised not to steal your boyfriend but with dad gone all week," Beth was squirming. Will he mind? Did she mean me? Would I mind what?

"Stevie?" Katie's eyes were sparkling. "Stevie, my little sister's a horny little girl," Hmm, Beth wasn't that little but I wasn't going to spoil her game, "and she's misses her daddy's cock so much. Can Beth, borrow you? Just for a bit? She'd love to feel your cock inside her, wouldn't you?" Beth just bit her lower lip and nodded trying to look as innocent as possible. That was fairly difficult considering she was lying naked in my back yard with her sister's fingers sliding around her wet pussy. Still she did a reasonable job of being an innocent, it was difficult keeping a straight face though.

"So she likes her daddy's cock does she?" I asked. Beth nodded vigorously, biting down hard on that lip.

"Oh yeah, she loves daddy's cock. She didn't tell me she was fucking daddy for nearly six months. I was quite jealous at first but Be'elzebub made me feel better didn't you, lots and lots of times. Didn't you?" Beth still wasn't saying anything but her eyes spoke volumes. She just wriggled and grinned.

"So just what does this demon actually want?" I found that I was quite enjoying this silly game. Katie was too; her pussy was on liquid overdrive. I was going to have to ask mum how to wash this blanket tomorrow.

Katie looked at me, her serious expression offset by the glint in her eyes and the way she moved her hips, sliding into my still hard cock. Katie had trained me well, although I was enjoying every moment of being buried deep into her body, I felt in no danger of cumming, not until Katie wanted me to that is.

"My horny little sister wants you," she glanced at Beth and then back to me, "she wants you to, to fuck her."

Suddenly Beth wriggled, "and?" And? And what?

Katie's eyes flicked back and forth between us. "She wants you to, to, to cum inside her. Daddy never does that does he?" Um? Never? I can remember one time, no, twice in the last six weeks, two days and twenty-one odd hours. But did I say a word? Not I. I'm a gentleman see. I don't kiss and tell.

Beth was nearly bouncing on the spot. "Oh please, please Stevie. I always love it when Katie comes home with her pussy full of your cum. Can I have some please? Pretty please?"

I frowned and pulled an earnest and serious expression. Katie started giggling and then she tried to stop by clearing her throat and frowning too. Didn't help me. Katie looked hilarious trying to keep a straight face.

"Well," big pause. "Well if your big sister says that it's all right," another big pause. "Well I could fill your cunt with my cum." Pause. "But just this once you understand?" Just this once? Who was I trying to kid?




Looking for Love



As Janet Phillips paged through the thin personnel file she became more impressed. This file belonged to Frank Williams a part time distribution supervisor. Part time supervisors were rare; generally they came from the ranks of recent retirees who wanted to augment their retirement income. Frank didn't fit that mold. He had worked for her company, Global Partners, a $2 billion a year distribution firm for less than a year. He had also worked in each of the four regional distribution facilities for approximately three months averaging two or three days per week. 

Job hoppers are always viewed with suspicion. Frank had not hopped jobs or companies---just locations. She had asked her Human Resources Director if he had any idea why. There was a rumor that possibly his wife had a security job with the government and had been moved often to potential trouble spots since the 911 attacks. Asking a non-exempt employee questions about his or her spouse's employment status was strictly against the rules; all she had to go on were rumors.

He had distinguished himself in Ontario, California, Atlanta and Dallas. He seemed to be on the same track here in the largest of the company's mega centers north of Chicago. He had been offered full time status and had respectfully declined the offer. He had been interviewed for exempt status---to become an entry level manager---and had again declined. He was never late for work, always passed his drug tests, didn't smoke and was in all regards an exemplary---and unusual---part timer. His file had a small handful of perfect performance evaluations accompanied by strong and obviously genuine letters of praise. He was recognized as extremely knowledgeable of the company's logistic system and a natural leader. The people he supervised seemed to love him and his managers at each location rated him as their top employee.

The Chicago area had recently had an unusual spring blizzard which brought the windy city to a screeching halt. Many regular employees could not get to work. Many of Global's customers had life critical products that had to get out. Frank had worked virtually around the clock over a weekend---even driving one of the trucks when the driver couldn't get in to deliver critical supplies. It turned out that he had a trucker's license, although it had not been noted in his file. 

He had refused to put in for overtime. His boss and the man who managed this particular facility, a man who reported to Janet, wanted to recognize and reward Frank---financially---with some sort of bonus. Since Janet was Global's Senior Vice President—in charge of all four of their giant facilities---she would have to approve any sort of out of the ordinary payment to a non-exempt employee. She had no doubt that she would do so.

As she got to the last page of the Frank Williams story she found his official employee photo. While such pictures are seldom flattering, she assumed his might be. He was a handsome man with an easy smile and a far more relaxed and human visage than most official photos captured. The color photo captured the essence of his clear blue eyes, strong features and full head of dark blonde hair. It appeared that he was just shy of forty, had declined benefits, had an honorable discharge from some branch of the military and had attended some technical school in Massachusetts which she had never heard of---but no degree was listed. 

He had no criminal record---not even a speeding ticket. Frank would easily have earned over $1,000 in the overtime that he refused to put in for. She walked down to the facility manager's office to get his opinion. It would be a $1,000 award. He would be the, 'Part Timer of the Month' a title he had earned at each of the other locations every month. They would have a little get-together two days hence in the break room with punch and cookies. She checked on Frank's work schedule and discovered that he was indeed working today and decided she needed to go meet him.

Before going down on the distribution floor she watched Frank and his crew from the catwalk above. It became quickly obvious that Frank's crew moved with a singular purpose---and accomplished more than the other teams she had observed. She also noted with satisfaction that Frank considered himself a working supervisor---more than pulling his own weight. There was a synergy at work below her that she wished she could capture, bottle and serve to every other distribution team in the country. She had picked her time carefully; Frank and his crew would break for lunch shortly. While she hated to disrupt any employee's lunch break she knew that most---if not all---ate on the premises and that interrupting their work routine would be far more disruptive—and resented. She had checked productivity cards and noted that this exact team did well with their normal supervisor---but always accomplished more under Frank's leadership.

Janet was just shy of thirty six. She had an undergrad degree from Northwestern and a Masters in Logistics Management from USC. She had moved up quickly; she had earned quicker than average promotions at every level. The core business of Global Partners was distribution---and she ran it. Sales and marketing where important—but they didn't have a job if she didn't do her job. No one would be surprised to see her become COO by forty---unless the company ended up being acquired. That rumor had been in the wind for almost a year. She was universally respected up and down the line. She had few if any real enemies within the company and a loyal following at every level. Global Partners was her life.

She had never married; as her biological clock was ticking down she regretted the fact that she would probably never bounce grand children on her knee. She had had several relationships over the years but none that stood out. She was taller than average, just shy of six feet. She had a commanding presence and hit a golf ball straighter and farther than most men. 

She was actually quite attractive and made no effort to hide her body. She could be very tough when she needed to be in a very male business. She didn't flirt on the job and while always openly friendly, had a no nonsense reputation and an icy stare when she needed it.

She had spent three years as a Marine Corps logistician before coming to Global. She had never lost that Marine Corps bearing and most of the people she worked with assumed what actually was the truth—that she could kick virtually any man's butt in the company---not that it ever came to that. She was a Marine as her dad had been a Marine. Semper Fi and ooh rah. USMC is for life. There is no such thing as a former Marine---she occasionally corrected people on that count.

Back to Frank Williams who was just dismissing his charges for lunch. He was much more impressive physically in real time. He was tall, probably six four and carried himself well, like a military man. His boots were highly shined and his work uniform was pressed and lightly starched. His arms were quite impressive; his shoulders were broad and solid. In spite of their differences in station of life, Janet thought she would like this man. Anything beyond a business friendship was not in the cards. Janet was not a snob. Her parents had been solidly blue collar, but any sort of a relationship between two people vastly separated in education, financial means and general socio-economics was out of the question---particularly in the same company. As she approached, she noted no ring---but that could be nothing more than a prudent safety measure.

She called out to him. "Frank, Frank Williams. Have you got a sec?"

Frank turned toward her like a predatory cat sighting prey. He immediately smiled and replied. "Yes ma'am?"

As Janet extended her hand and got within hand shake distance she realized that the employee photo had not remotely done justice to this man. The blue eyes were captivating. Frank Williams was an extremely good looking man. He extended his hand in response to her gesture.

"Frank, I'm Janet Philips, Senior VP of Distribution. I don't want to take away from your lunch break but I just wanted to chat for a few minutes." She said, probably overly formally.

He shook her hand making no attempt to show his bone crushing ability----just a nice warm firm handshake. "It's very nice to meet you Ms. Philips." He said, never breaking eye contact.

"Frank, we're kind of like the Australian Army here at Global---it's Janet. Call me Janet. Is there someplace we can talk?" She said, trying to be a bit more cordial.

"We'll, spring has finally arrived in Chicago. I was planning to go outside and sit while I eat my lunch." He said, picking up the small paper sack at his stand up work station. "Would that be okay?"

It was a warmer than normal day for this time of year and she was glad to get out of the building. She noted a couple of picnic tables under a large oak. She didn't remember them being there.

As if reading her mind, Frank spoke. "My guys came in with me and built them one Sunday afternoon. You will note that there is one set off a little from the others. Unofficially that's my employee counseling area. I think we'll have a modicum of privacy at that table."

Not that modicum was that big a word, but it was not part of the normal argot of a distribution worker. He was obviously reasonably literate.

They sat down on opposite sides of the table. Frank offered her half of his sandwich—she declined. She proceeded to thank him for his exemplary service and tell him about the award and the presentation in the break room on Friday. He never lost focus; his eyes never left hers. He was relaxed and had an easy smile that spoke of confidence and comfort in ones own skin. She wanted to get to know this interesting man without prying.

"Frank, I noticed in your personnel file that you had been in some branch of the service---which one?" She asked.

"Just like you Janet---as it states in your official bio on the corporate web site. Semper Fi." Frank said, with a huge grin.

"Ooh-rah." She growled, also grinning from ear to ear. It was the only appropriate response between Marines when one initiates the greeting with the familiar shortened form of Semper Fidelis---always faithful. Regardless of gender, age, education, religion, race or financial status, the bond between Marines is instant and strong---though they may have been strangers a moment earlier. They were both Marines---the Corps finest. They would always be Marines---never former Marines. 

"I was with the 1st Marine Division, 5th Regiment---the S4---my entire four years---I never did a 'B' billet." Janet said. Indicating that her entire time in the Corps had been with the fleet in the logistics staff. A 'B' billet might have included recruiting duty, an instructor assignment or anything that wasn't a line unit. Fifth Marine Regiment of the First Marine Division was one of the most decorated unit in the Corps' history. Janet assumed Frank had been enlisted---she had been an officer, having left active duty as a First Lieutenant.

"I worked with airplanes, Janet---First Marine Air Wing. I got called back briefly for Desert Storm in 1991, but fortunately I was too old for the current conflict over there." Frank said.

Frank did not offer details on what he did with the first Marine Air Wing and it wasn't her business to pry. She told him that her dad was a Marine, thirty years, having retired at the top enlisted rank. He had been in 2/5, the 2nd Battalion, 5th Regiment, the most highly decorated unit in USMC history during the Vietnam conflict. They chatted briefly about the Corps as all Marines do.

She asked him where he grew up; he answered with several places much as she had. Feeling that they had crossed the formal threshold she asked how his wife liked Chicago.

"I don't have one of those, Janet. I'm not proud of the fact, but life just seemed to keep getting in the way of---a life." He replied softly. She knew exactly what he meant. Neither felt the need to dwell on it.

His break was nearly up and he needed to get back to work. She could have talked to Frank for the rest of the day. He was comfortable. He smiled easily. He was very easy on the eyes and very easy on the psyche. 

She had one last question. "Where did you go to school? I saw the name---or the initials---in your personnel file. Was it MTI---Massachusetts Technical Institute? I've never heard of it."

"Ah, Janet the subtle bias of those Human Resources people to those of us trapped in the ranks of the blue collar. I told her clearly, she just didn't want to hear. It's MIT, Janet. Massachusetts Institute of Technology ---not particularly relevant for a part time distribution supervisor, though, is it?" He smiled again, clearly indicating no offense. 

As he shook her hand and prepared to return to work he fixed her once again with those beautiful blue eyes. "Thank you for coming to see me, Janet---I truly enjoyed getting to know you. I hope we can chat again in the future. You're far more attractive than any other jar head I've ever had lunch with."

Frank returned to his crew and Janet made the long trek back to her office. What the hell is this guy doing here? MIT? Did he graduate? Why is he working part time at what amounted to glorified manual labor? I need to check this guy out. She knew no one at MIT---and had no authorization from the employee to snoop. Maybe her dad could help. He was still connected to the Corps. As soon as she returned to her office she called her father, gave him Frank's vital statistics and asked him to snoop.

Her dad called her back a few hours later. "He's a pilot, honey. Flew F14s in the med and the gulf war. He's still in the reserves in Virginia---not far from where we used to live and where you did a lot of growing up. It looks like he's inactive reserve right now. He's currently listed as a Major, USMC reserve. He was highly decorated—to include a Navy Cross. He shot down five Migs in his career---makes him an ace." Her dad told her, providing further fodder to the mystery who was Frank Williams.

She couldn't get Frank out of her mind no matter how hard she tried. Was he some sort of Labor Department spy? No, he had told her a little too much. She anxiously awaited the award ceremony in the break room on Friday.

After the award and distribution of punch and cake, she cornered him in a table by the wall. He was the guest of honor and she was the big cheese so no one would interrupt them.

"Hi, Frank---or should I call you sir?" She said, with a warm smile.

"You're a very good detective, Janet. I figured you'd check me out---bet your dad helped, didn't he?" Frank said with a grin, then added. "No salutes required unless in uniform and under cover. All of my crew assume I was a Gunny---Marine Gunnery Sergeants are a lot meaner than Majors. Let's keep it under wraps---shall we?"

"So, what are your plans for the long weekend?" Janet asked, casually.

"Well, I'm going to be here for a few hours on Sunday so one of the full time supervisors can be with his family." Frank replied. "Saturday, I'll be at the Yacht Club all day starting at 0700."

"Don't tell me you're a member of the Yacht Club---another detail of your secret life?" Janet said.

"No, hardly. Every year in many cities around the country---those that have a lake, calm river or ocean in close proximity---there is what is known as Junior Regatta. Adults who know something about sailing teach kids---many from the inner cities---how to sail. The Regatta is the culmination of the two week sailing camp. It's not much of a race, more of a gaggle. The well heeled volunteers provide the money for the tiny boats, meals, transportation and so on. The working stiffs provide the one-on-one instruction." Frank explained to her.

"Well, you're of man of mystery, Frank Williams, I had no idea you were a sailor." Janet said.

"Don't even call me that in jest, Janet---you know how sensitive Marines get about being associated with their Navy brethren." Frank replied with a grin, then continued. I "grew up on the East Coast of Florida---until I turned ten; both of my brothers sailed so I learned early. My step father had a place on Chesapeake Bay---everybody sailed. There were always sailing clubs associated with the Navy/Marine Corps bases to which I was assigned."

"I haven't sailed in years, but my dad's career in the Corps often put our family near the water. I used to love to sail—did it every time I could when I was younger. There hasn't been much time over the last few years, but I still love it." Janet replied wistfully.

"Why don't you come down to the Lake tomorrow? We are always desperately short of volunteers; we never have enough adults to provide adequate one-on-one time that is so important." He continued, more seriously. "It's odd. The very well heeled---those that have little more to prove---are exceptionally generous with their time and money. At the other end of the social spectrum are lots of people holding down two jobs without two dimes to rub together and families of their own who give everything they have to give. If we could get a scintilla of participation from those in the middle---those too busy proving their worth or grasping at the next rung---we'd be able to touch more kids."

Realizing his comments had hit a personal nerve, Frank continued. "Janet, for years I was too busy. I wrote checks, but just couldn't find the time to be there. I meant no offense with my rant regarding the state of volunteerism in this country." 

Janet placed her hand over Frank's hand, not in a romantic gesture, but in an understanding one. "Frank you just hit me right where I live. And you're right on target. I'd love to help. What do I need to do to sign up?"

Frank removed a business card from his wallet and handed it to her. "This gentleman is the overall coordinator. He actually takes the whole month off from his corporate duties to organize this affair. Give him a call. If you get an answering machine, just tell him who you are, your experience level and how you'd like to help---then show up at 7:00 AM."

Janet looked at the business card. It was the card of a man who was on her company's board of directors and was additionally the Chairman of the Board and CEO of their largest customer---Jack Middleton. She had met him once when she had addressed the board. Did Frank know this captain of industry well? 

"I met him once—very briefly when I was pitching something to the board." Janet said, inviting Frank to elaborate.

"He's a very special guy---also very special to me, personally---Janet. Also a Marine, I might add. He served with distinction during Vietnam. He well could have avoided the military and service in that war. He went out of a sense of duty and honor—as a Marine. He left active duty as a Captain---commanded a rifle company with the Third Marine Amphibious Force. Just greet him with a hearty Semper Fi and you'll have the inside track." Frank said with a grin.

Janet knew instantly that Frank Williams and Jack Middleton had some history---special history. The fact simply added to her confusion---and interest---in this enigmatic man she had only met two days earlier. If Jack Middleton is a friend---a personal, special friend---if Frank attended, possibly graduated from the top science and engineering school in the world---what was he doing here? Had he once been---like her---on the corporate ladder and gotten burned out, chucked it all? 

Had Desert Storm had something to do with it? He was, quite obviously today a man bent on making a difference. Could this be part of the reason he worked part time for an hourly wage---so that he had time to do the things that really mattered to him? As she mulled it all over in her mind she liked this man even more---and was more than a little ashamed that she hadn't chosen to contribute to those less fortunate on any level in a very long time. Frank went back to finish his shift; Janet returned to her office.




Looking for Love



Sticking her head in her Human Resources director's office she asked him to do a search and see if there was anyone, anywhere in the company who had attended MIT. She knew that Frank was just shy of forty. He would have to have attended college somewhere between 1983 and 1988—give or take a year. She couldn't contact the University directly, but maybe she could find someone who knew a Frank Williams at MIT---her Frank Williams.

There were five such individuals in the company. One was a very recent graduate. One was in his late fifties. She began her search by calling the ones closest to Frank in age. As is often the case in Corporate America, she hit voice mail. She marked the message urgent. She was high enough in the company that it would be unlikely that her urgent message would be ignored---even if it was a Friday prior to a three day weekend. Just before she was ready to wrap up and leave, the phone rang---she had hit pay dirt. The person who had called her was a woman---with an ambiguous first name---much to her surprise. There weren't a lot of female MIT graduates back then. Janet described the Frank she knew feeling no obligation to explain her motives.

"I didn't know Frank Williams intimately, but I always wanted to." The women began, with a hint of wistful---almost sexual---longing. "He was two years ahead of me---well, sort of. Frank got his BS in Engineering in two years---probably a record even at MIT. He was brilliant---light years ahead of a pretty bright group of people. He completed a Masters---Physics, I think—in half the allotted time. He was Summa Cum Laude---as I recall, a perfect 4.0 average. Every big company in the country was hot on his trail. He played several intramural sports and was active in several clubs---mostly civic oriented---not party ones. I remember reading that he went into the Marines right after he got his Masters---what a waste." The woman, who while slightly older, was also junior in rank to Janet said---not realizing that she had just insulted another Marine. Janet let it pass---but she would not forget.

Since the female MIT grad had little more to tell he and Janet was not a chatty person, she ended the call fairly quickly. The phone rang again. This MIT grad had graduated before Frank and didn't know him---but knew of him from his alumni organization. He had little to add, other than to affirm that Franks stay at MIT had been near legendary. The last of the MIT grads that might have known Frank called as she was walking to the door. He knew Frank but seemed almost evasive.

"I know---knew—Frank quite well. I've, ah, sort of lost touch with him recently. We were also in the Marine Corps together—or at least at the same time. We did serve together in the Med and briefly ran into each other during Desert Storm. What, if I may ask is your interest in Frank Williams?" And with that, the phone grew silent. 

This guy was pretty senior in the company---virtually a peer. She decided not to push the issue. She was opening a can of worms. She told her caller that she too was a Marine, gave a short bio of her time in the Corps and indicated that it had something to do with a Marine society that she was planning to join. He seemed to accept her answer and the call ended. If this guy still is in contact with Frank she hoped Frank didn't become offended if he discovered her snooping.

Janet drove home to her empty house. She had two large dogs gracing the large fenced back yard and a lady who came over repeatedly during the day to keep them company. It was a big house in a very nice neighborhood ---befitting her position. It was not your typical development. She had opted out of the typical corporate trophy neighborhood, opting instead for a couple of acres for the benefit of her beloved canines---a pair of large Dobermans. 

She loved her home and the land around it which gave her a sense of freedom and privacy. If everything went as expected, she had one more move to go in her corporate ascent. Oddly, while this was the company's largest and most critical distribution center---and where she had chosen to place her office---the corporate headquarters was not here. It was in a small Midwestern town on the edge of a mid-size Midwestern city. It was the home to a number of well known and respected corporations---including some of their key customers. She had been there numerous times. She had worked there and loved the area---and looked forward to going back.

She wondered where Frank lived. Did he have pets? He seemed like a dog person---not, heaven forbid---a cat person. She wondered what he was doing at this very moment. She was becoming very fond of this mysterious man. Does he have a house—an apartment? Does he have a girl friend---something serious? He must go out---what does he do? Her feelings were, at this moment, not romantic---just very interested. 

Could she be romantically interested in Frank? He was attractive. He was bright. He did things with his hands---built picnic tables. He seemed to give a shit about the right things—the important things. Why was their no Mrs. Frank Williams? Could he be gay? She didn't think so. He was very manly; Janet had long since tired of the overly sensitive Alan Alda types. She was a strong woman---physically and mentally---she was a God damned Marine! She liked strong men—but not macho shit heads. Frank did not seem to be one of those. 

He worked with kids—poor kids. Instead of trying to act like a sensitive male he actually did things that demonstrated that he cared—that he was sensitive. He had not flirted with her—not even remotely. He'd never undressed her with his eyes. He had never shown a hint of inappropriate behavior. Maybe, she thought, I'm just the kind of woman he can't stand---too wrapped up in myself and my career. That's not who I am---not who I was raised to be---she mused. I know I'm better than that; I also know I haven't done a damned thing to show that side of me in a long time.

She awoke early on Saturday to prepare for the hour drive to the yacht club. She changed outfits several times. She finally settled on longish shorts and a polo shirt. With her height and exquisite long legs she looked good in anything. The shorts would have made many women look dumpy but her height precluded that. The polo shirt clearly demonstrated that she had breasts—quite attractive ones, actually---without giving anyone a peek at them. She wore a bathing suit underneath—a fashionable one piece that was neither lewd nor doughty. She arrived early and parked her car. She began her search for a familiar face---finding both of them fairly quickly. 

Frank and Jack Middleton were in an earnest discussion about sixty yards away. Frank saw her and waved her over. Deciding to take the initiative as she approached the men she yelled out a hearty Semper Fi which was greeted with the expected ooh-rah as both men growled it in unison and broke out in wide grins. They all shook hands; Frank and Jack briefed her on the day's events and advised her on how she could be most helpful. As they parted, the older man took Janet's hand in both of his.

"Thank you so much for coming, Janet---it means a lot. I remember your presentation to the board a few months back---hell of a job. Frank will get you started here in the right direction; he'll take good care of you---take good care of him!" The last part delivered with a twinkle of the eyes.

As the Regatta progressed it was at times a bit of a gaggle. It was also the most rewarding thing she had done in memory. The sheer joy on the children's faces----their sense of accomplishment and wonder brought more than one tear to her eyes. She so hoped and prayed that they would touch many of these children and have an impact no matter how minor on their futures. She had been unofficially paired with Frank; she would often steal a glance at him—as much as anything to get pointers on what to do.

He was so patient—so caring—so comfortable in this environment. He never got irritated and never uttered a terse word. The children worshipped him, hung on his every word and worked their hardest to accomplish what was expected of them. He led his young charges with tenderness and love---always praising, never criticizing. He'd make a great father, she thought to herself---why isn't he one? Why wasn't she a mother? She loved children—wanted children. She had come to the sad realization that she would probably never have them.

They got through the morning Regatta with no serious mishaps. After a picnic lunch, all of the kids would get to go on a ride on a real sail boat. The Yacht club, or more correctly, the well heeled boat owners had provided a fleet of forty-one foot Morgans---each of which could easily accommodate fifteen to twenty kids. Two or three volunteers would crew each boat while two or more would tend to the kids on each yacht so no one got hurt or fell overboard.

Frank came over to her. "You did a fantastic job this morning!" He beamed. "You should make more time to have children around you. It suits you very nicely." He added softly.

Frank continued. "I'm going to captain one of the boats; it belongs to, ah, well hell I'm not really sure. Do you feel like signing on as first mate? We're not going to do anything too arduous, but we've got a decent breeze and should be able to a get a little plane---or at least as much as these tubs can handle. "

Janet knew that Morgans were not tubs---but nor were they terribly spirited boats. They were relatively easy motor sailors to handle and quite lady like. She got Frank's drift.

"Love to!" She replied. They acquired their two handlers and ushered the giggling children toward one of the wide beamed boats. Janet slipped out of shorts and began preparing the boat to sail. It had been a few years, but Janet had crewed this model boat and recalled what was expected of a first mate. Frank had stripped down to his bathing suit; Janet found it difficult not to steal an occasional glance in his direction. Frank could not have had an ounce of fat on him. He had broad shoulders and strong arms---muscular without being muscle bound. Great legs, she thought---oh, and a tight little tush!

Frank knew his way around this boat. They cast off and were quickly underway motoring out of the crowded yacht area. As they reached open water on the lake, they got under sail in the surprisingly stiff breeze and the children squealed with glee. They planned to take a long tack into the wind for maybe an hour---get the kids out of sight of land---then gibe back home deploying the spinnaker. Once the sails were deployed and trimmed, Janet's duties were minimal until they turned back to shore. She worked her way back to the captain's station and joined Frank next to the helm. The man belongs at the helm of this over priced toy, she thought to herself; a beautiful boat commanded by a beautiful man.

For the first time in her memory, Frank checked out her body. "That sure doesn't look like USMC issue, Lieutenant!" He said, teasingly.

"Sorry sir, it won't happen again sir!" Janet replied giving Frank a playful mock salute.

"Don't change your wardrobe on my account—there aren't many women I've ever met that do it justice the way you do." He replied, softly, with the first evidence in her memory of flirtation. 

She liked the fact that he had finally flirted with her. She enjoyed his appreciative scrutiny of her lean well appointed body. She felt stirrings.

You don't look so bad yourself, Captain, sir, if I may be so bold." She responded, making no attempt to avoid flirtation.

Frank changed the topic, but never lost his delightful smile. "I got an interesting call last night from an old friend. He actually tracked me down through Jack. Seems like Nancy Drew has been checking up on me again." His calm, warm smile indicated no offense.

"I like to know as much as possible about our outstanding employees." She said. "Not to mention very mysterious and interesting men I meet in my daily travels." When she had used the phrase, interesting men, she knew she had crossed a threshold in her relationship with Frank. It was openly flirtatious---she found him interesting---and the smile that accompanied it had bordered on---was---a sexy smile.

"We're not at work here, Frank. So I'm going to pry---pry in a manner that would be inappropriate at the office. You got two degrees in something under four years from one of the toughest schools in the country---Summa cum laude no less." She began.

As she prepared to continue, she moved in closer to Frank---closer than she had ever been to him—probably closer than she had been to any man in a long time. The swell of her sleek hip touched his muscular thigh---skin to skin. She felt a jolt of electricity that she was completely unprepared for. The warmth of their body contact---welcomed warmth---almost made her lose her train of thought. 

For the first time in ages she found herself intensely attracted to a man---this man---Frank Williams. She felt the rising heat and moisture emanating from her crotch. For way too long that heat and wetness had only resulted from her own nimble fingers caressing her own treasures. 

She hadn't been laid since---shit! She couldn't remember---how pathetic. She wanted to fuck him. Had they been alone on the boat she probably would have gone to her knees and sucked his cock on the spot. It had been too long since she had taken a man in her mouth---tasted his salty essence. She wished they were alone so he could bend her over right there and have his way with her. 

She had not had thoughts so carnal---so intensely erotic---in many years. Janet usually got her way---she got what she went after. She would make him fuck her. No, no, no---that's not what you want. You want more. You want him to make love to you---fairy tale love---passionate love---hot, long, wet, sticky---all consuming love. Does he want to fuck me? Is he thinking about my naked body---is he getting hard? With her well honed ability to focus—thanks to the Corps, in no small measure---she got back on track.

"Frank you have a first rate education. You're a decorated war hero---a Marine Major, for Christ's sake. You're one of the brightest, most interesting, most erudite men---people---I've met in a long time—ever. You have some very special friends---all of whom are very protective---caring---of you. I like you. I like you a lot. I can't remember the last man---person---I met that I wanted to get to know more than I want to know you. I desperately want to be your friend---have you as my friend---possibly more. This little girl is laying it out here---I'm way out on that limb—please don't saw it off. You at least owe me a glimpse into who the hell you really are."

Frank's eyes were moist. His gaze was warm, tender---affectionate. "Janet, you are a stunningly attractive woman; you're bright, charming and tough. I would be lying if I didn't tell you that I am attracted to you---against my better judgment. I was the first time I saw you. As I watched you today, giving every ounce of the love in your heart to these wonderful children, it was all I could do not to take you in my arms and kiss you. Bluntly, I still intend to do that at the earliest possible opportunity. Get ready to come about and let out the spinnaker. When you get back, we'll talk. I have a lot to say to you—not all of it over the next hour on this damned boat."

Janet performed her required duties as they turned with the wind to their stern and headed back to shore. Oh, God, Janet thought. I'm falling---shit, I've fallen---for this man. He's attracted to me---certainly physically, lots of men are---but something more. 

She trembled like a leaf as the absurd serendipity almost overwhelmed her. She had always believed, deep in the recesses of her heart—since she was twelve---that every little girl had her prince charming somewhere out there---he just had to find her, kiss her, awaken her---and they would live happily ever after. It doesn't happen in real life---does it? Could it? Was it about to happen to her---to them?

As she returned to Frank's position at the helm her USMC training was doing it's best to keep her on track. She stood very closely to him again; their bodies touched. The wonderful warmth of his skin against hers enveloped her. He put his arm around her waist. Had he wanted to caress her fine, taut young butt, she would have let him. He didn't, keeping the hand just above her hip.

Frank began. "I'm going to give you the bad stuff first---it's only bad because I have not told you the truth. It's also bad because I am not exactly who I appear to be. I would like you to consider---after you hear what I have to say---not sharing it at present. That's going to be your choice—your decision. You may feel obligated to share it—I both understand and respect that."

Frank handed her the wheel and moved to adjust the main sail. He returned to the helm, leaving it in her hands and continued. "You drive for a while---I'll talk. Jack Middleton and I are very good, very dear---very old friends. He was my dad's best friend in the world. He was at my christening---he is my godfather. After my dad died in an accident, Jack became like a father to me. My mother remarried; my step father was also a very loving man---I ended up with two dads to replace the one I had lost."

He paused, composing his thoughts and choosing his words carefully. "Janet, I went to work for Jack the day after I left active duty in the Marine Corps; I work for him to this day. I am the executive vice president of your single largest customer. If I want to, I'll take over as President and COO in short order. The current COO, age wise, is a peer of Jack's---he will retire in the next couple of years---possibly sooner. I am here for one simple reason—to spy on you and spy on your company. Before you kick my ass over board---let me tell you why."

Janet was too shocked to speak---too spellbound to interrupt. Frank continued.

"It is no secret that we have been looking to acquire or merge with a logistics company. You do most of our work; three or four other companies do the rest. Your company was always the leading candidate. Not only do you have most of our products in your supply chain---you have always handled those products better than anyone else. We maintained alternate avenues purely to keep our business relationship competitive---should anything ever go wrong at Global Partners. As we looked at your company, there were three possible reasons why you were head and shoulders above your competitors. First, you could have the best logistics system in the industry. Second you could have great people---lose key people and the whole thing falls apart. Third, it could be both—the best system and the best people."

Pausing again for a swig of water, he went on. "There is no room for an extended run up or feeling each other out in this potential merger or acquisition. If it fumbles the interruption in the delivery of our products---many of which as you know, have life or death implications---could ruin us and devastate our ultimate customers---and kill people. It has to be seamless---it has to work on day one. After pouring over boxes of crap from the analysts and consultants, I was still not satisfied---Jack was, but indulged me."

Another swig of water, then more of the saga. "First, I had to know. From my perspective, I had to get inside---not as an executive---but on the distribution floor. I needed to touch the system and touch the people. For the record, when I'm not working for you or doing things like this---I'm still the executive VP of my company. I telecommute a lot---but also log a lot of Citation time. Between the day I met you and the day you gave me the award---that would be last Thursday---I flew down to Dublin in the jet to work in my office---then back late that evening. It's only a thirty seven minutes flight. I live next to a private air strip and land five minutes from the office. It would involve several hours if I had to fly commercial. By the way, the $1,000 award was endorsed over to the Junior Regatta---it paid for lunch."




Looking for Love



He paused to refresh, then continued. "I had an ulterior motive as I went under cover—Jack sensed it and understood it---that's why he let me do it. I was getting burned out in the ivory tower---losing touch with the business—the people. I needed a break. I was not born with a silver spoon in my mouth—my folks were decidedly middle class working people---not unlike your parents. I'd lost touch with the real world and real people. I hadn't shared a beer after work since the USMC with people who don't care much about what Hillary is doing, don't view work as a career and are just trying to provide a life for their families. My experiences over the last eleven months have made me a better executive---I've already made some revolutionary changes in how we deal with people in the last few months."

Frank prepared to wrap up, as they neared land. "The final chapter? Well, I'm pretty much done here. Telling you would have ended it anyway---the data would become tainted, as they say. I'll formally resign on Tuesday. I've seen enough---and Jack wants to get on with it---we agree. Your company is that perfect mix of people and system. It will be an acquisition, not a merger, but only because we have a higher profit margin than a distribution company and hence more cash. It will feel like a merger---there is no hostility between the two companies. It's a win-win for all involved. Based on my recommendations, we don't want your company to change a single thing---nor do we want to lose a single key executive."

Frank continued. "We will pay substantial retention bonuses if needed. I don't think they will be. We have a better benefits package than you do, better stock ownership and options and a better 401K and retirement. We really don't want to do a hell of a lot of integrating but acquire you more as a wholly owned subsidiary. Your CEO will go to the new board as Vice Chairman; he wants to retire from the day to day anyway. Your current President and COO will remain as President of the subsidiary business unit---he's okay with that and wants to retire in the next few years in any event. The money he will make on the stock valuation more than makes up for any loss in status. He's not a status guy anyway---another Marine, who, I believe hired you in the first place?"

"Jack will step away from the day to day also---staying as Board Chairman. Our COO will become CEO of the new corporation—he started with your company many years ago and is also a Marine. He and I are like brothers. We complement each others styles and have worked together well for many, many years. I, Frank Williams, will become the President and COO of the whole ball of wax. Your company doesn't have an Executive VP---ours does---me. So many of the details always get discussed before the merger becomes official. It was the unanimous recommendation of your senior management and your board of directors that you become the new Executive VP---I had absolutely nothing to do with it---but when asked before I even met you, I told Jack that it made nothing but good sense. I've watched you from afar—observed up close the results of your pain staking nurture of the distribution business. You know it inside and out---you know how to make it sing---pack your bags---you're moving to Ohio."

Completely stunned, Janet was even more unprepared for the final bomb shell, as Frank wrapped up the saga. "One last thought---our fraternization policy allows dating as long as it's not more than one level different and not a direct reporting relationship. Now, technically, I will outrank you---by that one level. But we view our top three officers as a single entity---a true executive suite. The three of us---you, me and the CEO actually will share one huge office and run the company as a team---so you won't report to me. I plan to resign from Global—I can do it right now if you like. The resignation letter is in my briefcase in my vehicle. So, since neither of us work for the other, I'd like to ask you out. Janet would you like to go to dinner with me this evening? Before you answer—if you'll grab the rope at the bow, we need to get this damned thing parked."

Janet dashed to the front of the boat still trying to absorb the magnitude of what she had just been told. I'm moving to Central Ohio. I'm going to be in the executive suite. I'm going to dinner with Frank Williams. After dinner, with any luck, he's going to fuck my brains out. I'm okay with all of that.

The four adults on the boat carefully guided their young charges to their waiting rides as similar scenes unfolded across the yacht club. It had been an overwhelming day for them—as it had been for Janet. As the dock area cleared of children and volunteers, Frank and Janet were left standing alone. She had grabbed his hand several minutes earlier. She held onto it for dear life. Jack Middleton had not missed the gesture and smiled in approval as they had said their goodbyes. She kissed Frank. Frank's arms enveloped her strong young body. They stayed that way for a very long time. It was a beginning---an unfathomable beginning. 

Reluctantly, they broke their embrace. They knew they had much to discuss---personal, not business things.

"Janet. I have dinner reservations at eight o'clock at a place your secretary told me was your favorite. Not that I was being over confident---but I was thinking I might get lucky. We're going to dress for dinner. I'm sure you have that special little black dress that hugs your body alluringly and makes every man in the room gasp. Wear it. Why don't you follow me to my place? I'll shower and change---then follow you to yours so you can do the same. I do know where you live---we're almost neighbors." Frank said.

"What are you driving?" Janet asked as she slipped behind the wheel of her SUV. 

"It's that big old pickup truck over there. Part of my undercover image---although I do actually have one of my very own back in Dublin; I rented this one." Frank replied with a grin.

Frank's home was literally less than a mile from hers. It was an old farm house with several fenced acres. She was shocked to pass the car owned by her dog sitter as they drove up the long gravel driveway. The two women paused, rolling down their windows in recognition.

"Janet!" I didn't know you knew Frank—I just left your pups. Are you headed home now?"

Janet told her that she was, but would appreciate another visit to her dogs later, since she was going out---with Frank. As they prepared to drive off, Janet asked about Frank's dogs.

"Two---just like you. Big ones---just like yours. A beautiful and feisty Chinook female and a goofy but lovable male Weimaraner pup---a year and a half. He's never going to be a show dog---he's too tall and too damned big." The sitter informed Janet.

I knew he was a dog guy. I hope they like my dogs---and vice versa, she thought to herself. The house was old, small and quite probably had historic value. It was tastefully but modestly decorated. First he introduced her to the dogs, who obviously smelled her dogs. He let her get acquainted as he poured them each a glass of wine. The Weimer was not standoffish at all---just a lover who quickly made friends. The Chinook, as is their temperament, was a bit more suspicious. Within five minutes, she had won the furry female sled dog over and she and her new found canine friends were sitting—butts touching on the sofa. 

Frank told Janet to help herself to anything she wanted while he showered. Totally on impulse and very unlike her—she decided to help herself to Frank. She removed her clothes and the underlying bathing suit. She tip toed into the bathroom and quickly joined him in the large, walk in shower. He surrounded her with his strong arms under the warm stream of water and she felt as if she had just stepped into heaven. They kissed, exploring each other for the first time. His hands were strong yet gentle. He was not a grabber or a tweaker. The motion of his powerful hands along her sleek thighs spurred her to action. She went down on her strong fit haunches and engulfed his fine hard prick, moaning in ecstatic anticipation as he quickly filed her mouth with his wonderful essence.

Frank gently stroked her labia and softly probed her insides. Returning the oral favor, he moved under her standing form and began to probe her moist little quim with his lips and tongue, carefully massaging her back hole with his fingers. She liked that, she thought to herself. I've never let a man do me there she thought. That might change. Not having had her cunt eaten—or even touched---in a very long time, she came quickly; as he continued his oral efforts, she came again. He again stood in front of her; she spun around, grabbing the bar in front of her and presenting her delectable posterior for his inspection. She'd always liked it liked this; somehow it seemed more natural. Needing no further invitation Frank slowly inserted his more than ample fuck stick up inside her quivering and underused birth canal.

It was a great fuck for both of them; it was animalistic at times as they moved in harmony as rutting beasts often do. It was also tender and loving as he lavished attention on her neck and back with his mouth. He touched her there again, at the entrance to her most private hole—even inserting a finger inside. She liked it as she realized that there was nothing her body had to offer this man that she would ever refuse. They came virtually together, sharing a few moments of post coital bliss as they realized the hot water was fading.

Janet recovered her clothing and sipped her wine as she waited for Frank to dress. She didn't bother to dry her hair. She could fuss with it back at her house. She was one of those lucky women who had good hair that with the right cut didn't need much work.

Frank came out of the bedroom carrying a light weight blue jacket and looking---well, good enough to eat again. It seemed so unfair she mused; clothes really do make the man. In spite of his looks and his bearing, Frank had looked like a man who worked in a distribution center in his gray/blue uniform with his first name stitched over the pocket. With a simple change of attire he looked like who he really was---a senior corporate executive. 

When the got to her house a scant three or four minutes away she realized that Frank had the same effect on dogs that he had on people. Within less than a minute, her standoffish Dobermans had accepted Frank and were curled up submissively at his feet. 

Janet moved to the bedroom to change into the little black dress that she had not worn in a long time. She considered a quick douche, deciding instead that she liked the feel of Frank's male essence in her cunt and didn't want to wash it away. Raising her skirt she slipped her fingers into her dripping little quim, aroused again at the realization that for the first time in longer than she could remember a devastatingly beautiful man had filled her pussy with his special cream. She could still taste his sweet load in her mouth. She sucked more of it off her fingers. She felt delightfully sexy---even slutty---and reveled in it. She found a pair of thigh high stockings in lieu of panty hose. At the last minute she removed her panties. She'd also decided against the bra that her still firm, upright breasts really didn't need. Examining herself in the mirror she knew she looked hot and very fuckable. She was very fuckable, at least as far as Frank Williams was concerned; he could have her anytime and anyway he wanted, she thought, briefly fingering her tight little anus as she fantasized about what anyway could mean.

"Wow!" Frank exclaimed as she came out of the bedroom. "You clean up pretty good, Marine."

Frank walked to her and took her in his arms, kissing her gently and lovingly as no man ever had. As his strong tanned hands worked there way across her tight young butt she knew she could deny this man nothing. At that instant, she simply wanted to be his fuck toy, to give herself to him completely. As he raised the rear of her skirt and slipped a hand in the tight cleft of her superbly toned buttocks she began to tremble like a leaf. If at that moment he had chosen to spin her around, push her skirt up over her waist and fuck her---anyway and any where he wanted---with that magnificent cock of his, she would have been a very happy little girl. He didn't, but she knew---hoped---he would later. She wanted his thick cock in her pussy, in her mouth---even in her ass if he wanted her that way. The Doberman's began to whimper as the two humans both realized there would be plenty of time for that and they needed to get on their way. They both wanted to fuck right then and there; they both knew they had a lot to talk about over dinner.

It was a dark and subdued restaurant, delightfully appointed in oak and leather and renowned not only for its exceptional steaks but also for its professional and unobtrusive service. The waiter pulled out the chair across from the one Frank was prepared to sit in. She chose the one next to him; they needed to talk and she just didn't want to be that far away from Frank Williams at this special moment in her life. They started off with a couple of Vodka Martinis up and dirty with extra olives. She remembered eating at a very similar restaurant near the corporate headquarters in Ohio. She found it comforting that the man she had so quickly and so desperately fallen for liked his Martinis just the way she did; that had to be a good sign.

Was it crazy lust or sublime serendipity? Was Frank Williams her prince charming? Was this seemingly wonderful man the one she had dreamed about since she had been twelve years old? Was this that one and true love of her life? The one she had waited so agonizing long for? The one she would marry and grow old with? Did he want babies? Were there issues that would pose a barrier? Religion? Politics? Her heart told her what she wanted it to; her brain had other inputs. As head over heels as she was at this moment she was also a practical Marine. She had no intention of being married more than once. Everything she had seen up to this moment---everything she sensed and knew about this man---told her he was the one. Frank started the conversation.

"Janet, I've been looking for you my whole life. I do believe in fate; I believe we found each other because we were supposed to find each other. I've always known, as silly as it may sound, that for every man in the world there is a special someone, a sleeping beauty who is hiding somewhere in a tall castle behind a hedge of thorns waiting to be kissed and awakened. As unrealistic and adolescent as it probably sounds I knew it was you the first time I heard your voice and you touched my hand."

Janet almost choked on her cocktail. This wonderful man was a romantic as she had always been but had pushed it to the deepest recesses of her mind for far too long. "Are we talking about love, here, Frank?"

"I think so, Janet, I believe so---hell, I know so! Love, marriage, children, cuddling in front of a crackling fire, growing old together---depending on how you voted in the last two presidential elections, of course." Frank replied, with a grin.

The two lovers laughed in unison breaking the tension of the moment. It was quickly established that their respective political views were quite compatible. Frank took the lead. 

"There is no question that I'm physically attracted to you...like no other woman I've ever met. I've watched you work and respect your character and style immensely. Janet, when I watched you today with those special children, watched you pour out your heart and soul to bring them happiness, I fell head over heals in love with you and have completely thrown caution to the wind. As you said today on the boat, I'm way out on a limb here. I'll still buy dinner if you tell me that you don't feel the same way about me. I'm very much looking forward to taking you home and fucking your brains out, but I'm bent on something a lot more permanent than that. I know we need to get to know each others hopes and dreams. Unless you are addicted to rap music, are a card carrying member of PETA or are a seriously practicing Scientologist, I believe in my heart that you and I are meant to spend the rest of our lives together. In case you missed it a few seconds ago...I love you."

"Kiss me Frank Williams. Show me this isn't just a crazy wonderful dream." 

As their lips met it was if the earth stood still...as if the heavens opened and a deep voice said----yes. Neither wanted that amazing kiss to ever end. It was as if at that unique moment Frank Williams and Janet Phillips became forever connected and their destiny together was assured.

"You're not out on that limb any more, baby. I love you so much I ache." And the two new found lovers kissed again as the waiter realized it was not the right time to take their wine and dinner order.

As their lips parted, the waiter moved in deftly. They both ordered steak, Frank the Delmonico, Janet the rib eye...same part of the cow, just a different cut. Both ordered medium rare. They each perused the wine list. Janet looked at Frank expectantly. 

"Janet, let's see how close we are on this subject." Turning to the waiter, Frank pointed to three choices on the list. "Any of those would be fine with me, in that order but it's the lady's choice this evening." Janet knew that a disagreement over wine was something too trivial to spoil what she and Frank had found with each other, but was enjoying the first steps in their journey of discovery. 

"That one would be my choice, but that or that would be fine also." Janet told the waiter, pointing to her choices on the list.

"How long have you two been together?" The waiter asked. "You both picked the same three wines in the same order."

"This is our first date." Janet replied softly. "Do think we've got a chance to make it as a couple?"

"It would seem that you two were made for each other." The waiter responded with a gentle smile.

"We're kind of thinking that, too." Frank replied, taking Janet's hands in his own.

As the waiter scurried to the wine cellar to procure their mutual selection, Frank spoke.

"Let's start with something easy...music?"

"Well, I hate rap music, but in spite of the fact that I haven't danced with anyone in years, a little dance pop now and again gets my ass moving. I like classical---Mozart and Beethoven rather than much of anything after them. Jazz...Coltrane, Miles Davis, Parker. Some of the news guys...Crusaders, Sanborn. Southern Rock...Skynard, Allmans, 38 Special, Bad Company. Rock and roll...Zeppelin---love Zeppelin. Country...George Strait, Patsy...the standard bearers. Am I doing okay here?"

"Did you sneak a peek at my CD collection?" Frank replied. Janet shook her head. "You hit most of my favorites. Top in each genre? Zeppelin, Mozart---although I must own a dozen versions of the 9th---Skynard---although the Allman Brothers at Fillmore is right up there, George Strait is king and no ones has every come close to Patsy."

As the evening progressed they exchanged thoughts on everything from philosophy and religion to politics, dogs, houses and automobiles. Both marveled at how in sync their respective loves and peeves seemed to be. Frank took the initiative to raise that all important question as they sipped their coffee and brandy.

"Babies." Frank said, very seriously, more a statement than a question.

"I want babies Frank. More than anything in the world I want babies. I want to make babies with you...not a dozen, but a couple at least. My biological clock is ticking down. I want to be pregnant---sooner rather than later," Janet responded softly, her eyes misting as she knew in her heart that not having children would, for her, be the ultimate deal breaker.

"Thank God." Frank replied, his eyes filling with tears. Touching her face softly and kissing her full lips tenderly. "Shall we go home and practice?"




Looking for Love



A starling realization confronted Janet. She and Frank had fucked in the shower. She had not been on the pill in years---hadn't needed to be. She owned a diaphragm, but it had probably disintegrated from lack of use in its thin plastic case. They had not used protection. Her periods were exceptionally regular. She was at the fertile stage.

As they got in Frank's truck to drive back to his house, and before Frank put the vehicle in gear, Janet knew she needed to tell him.

"Frank we very well may not be practicing. You fucked me in the shower. I didn't douche. You may very well have already knocked me up when you had your way with me. I could be pregnant right now---and if we end up fucking the night away---which is what I'm looking forward to--- I certainly will be."

"Then we better start making wedding plans, my love." Frank replied. "Janet, nothing could make me happier at this instant than for you to be correct. I love you. I want to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you. I want to have children with you---enjoy grand children with you."

"Frank Williams, are you asking me to marry you?" Janet replied, almost coquettishly.

"Well, I have to ask you father for permission first, then get down on one knee and put a ring on your finger to make it official, but a preliminary yes from you at this moment would ease my mind a great deal." Franks responded soberly.

Janet moved across the seat and fell into Frank's arms. "Yes, Yes, Yes! I want to be your wife. I want to be Mrs. Frank Williams. I've never wanted anything more desperately in my entire life. Now take me home and fuck me just in case you didn't get the job done in the shower."

As they drove home, Janet had an important thought. "My dogs! I can't leave them alone all night.

"Well, at some time the four pups were going to have to meet. Better sooner than later."

Janet and Frank decided to take her dogs to his house. Janet piled the two large beauties in her SUV and followed Frank back the short distance to Frank's place. As dogs do, there was more than a little suspicion as the four dogs got to know each other. There was a lot of butt sniffing, some barking and even a growl and a nip. 

The Chinook, the smallest but the most territorial was not initially happy to have her turf invaded. The Weimaraner was more excited than anything else---excited at the prospect of two new playmates. He had been raised from eight weeks by his surrogate mother and was submissive to her. The Chinook, the one female in the group and historically a true alpha dog, quickly established the pecking order with the two new boys. 

The three neutered males ran around and played energetically as the female matriarch sat on a small hill and surveyed her domain. She seemed pleased that, thanks to the new additions, she wouldn't be constantly bothered as much by the big gray ghost who always seemed to want to play. She looked on with a disapproving scowl as the three pups frolicked and rolled and acted like typical children as they explored every inch of Frank's expansive yard together. Each dog in turn came over to the beautiful little sled dog to pay homage to their mistress. In no time at all, she licked each muzzle affectionately leaving no doubt who was in charge but allowing the big Dobermans to stay as long as they played by the rules---her rules.

Dogs don't really have a sense of each other's size. Chinooks are notoriously territorial, outrageously protective, initially suspicious of strangers---and they are accomplished scrappers. There had been a time when Frank had been entertaining guests when a neighbor's dog, a massive and unfriendly Saint Bernard right out of Cujo had bounded into the yard and made a dash directly toward one of his female guests. The dog weighed over 180 pounds, stood close to four feet tall, had gotten into a couple of fights with other dogs and had a reputation as a nipper. The little Chinook tipped the scales at just over sixty pounds and at the time was sleeping at her master's feet. The St. Bernard was in full gallop and could have, at the very least, seriously hurt the young woman just by knocking her over. Sensing potential disaster the lovable little fawn colored former orphan covered the greater distance in a flash, setting up her fighting stance a few feet in front of the terrified young woman.

Emitting a low, menacing growl that was terrifying to both man and beast alike, the fluffy little girl made it clear to the invader that he would die. This is my yard and my master's home. I will not back down. It's just not who I am. I am prepared to die for these people...but you will certainly die if you try to hurt them. She then proceeded to escort the not so gentle giant out of the yard with his tail between his legs barking, growling and nipping at his heels. He never returned. The very special dog then returned to the frightened young lady, licked her hand, gazed into the young woman's face with her big brown eyes and curled up at her feet. No harm will come to you as long as I am here. You are my master's friend, therefore you are my friend. Have no fear.

One other time the Weimer, at abut six months, had escaped into an adjoining yard and was surrounded by three unfriendly canines. Not able to quickly discern where he had escaped, the twenty inch tall surrogate mother cleared a four foot horse fence with little room to spare to rescue her terrified little boy. With some sort of innate sense, she sensed which animal posed the biggest threat---not the biggest dog---but the most bellicose of the three...the resident Alpha in that yard. She quickly cleaned the opposing bitch's clock, sending her squealing and yelping in terror. Frank had witnessed the encounter as he was rushing to head off the conflict. The other two dogs, seeing their boss lady subdued, no longer had any fight left in them and retreated in submission. The dear Chinook escorted her young charge back home, nipping his ears and lip all the way, chewing his young butt out for breaking the rules. The big gray never again tried to escape. 

The ferocity and quickness of his most favorite canine had amazed even him. This was his special baby, who spent almost every night asleep on a special pillow at his head, occasionally nuzzling his ear and touching him with her delicate pink tongue. A more gentle, loving creature did not exist. When it came to what she viewed as hers to protect, she simply did not know the meaning of fear. This man had saved her. He had found her roaming a highway when she was only eight weeks old. Having escaped a cruel life and almost certain early death, she discovered with Frank undying love, affection, care and a pretty nice home in which to grow old. She would very quickly become completely attached to the new human in her life and totally win over Janet as she won over every other human she allowed to get close to her.

The Chinook understood the rules of men and women; she seemed to understand that when her beloved master provided each pup with a fresh Bison bone and closed the bedroom door that her master was not to be disturbed. She made sure the other three pups behaved accordingly. Soon, they were all exhausted from play and bone chewing, falling asleep in a pile just outside the couple's door. Janet's pups, as was their nature, were very protective of their mistress but quickly sensed that Frank was going to be a permanent fixture in their lives. 

One would have had to laugh at the thought of some poor hapless thief who decided that Frank's house might be an easy mark. If the racket that the four guardians would have made hadn't scared the robber off, it was doubtful that even an armed man would have prevailed over the several hundred pounds of fiercely protective canine that the four pups represented. The house was well protected by four dedicated dogs and two very accomplished and well armed Marines. Pity the fool, someone once said.

The sweet little sled dog outlived her much larger canine companions, living to the ripe old age of twenty-four; neither Dobermans nor Weimaraners are particularly long lived breeds. Over the years she educated numerous new canine inhabitants of her special domain, and even as her health and vitality waned, she never ceased to be the alpha mother. She died peacefully in her sleep, still curled up in the special spot that had always been reserved for her, at the head of the bed on a soft pillow touching both her long term master and mistress. Frank and Janet cried softly in each others arms as they laid the amazing creature to rest under a large Oak in a special place long since reserved as her final resting place. Frank had been her master virtually her entire twenty-four years; Janet had been her beloved mistress for almost twenty years. There were and would be other beloved canines, but none quite like Samantha.

As there were other beloved inhabitants of the sprawling farm on the edge of the Midwestern city where Frank and Janet chose to make their life together as man and wife...three children...two boys and a girl. One was in college, one would move away in the same pursuit in the fall and the youngest was a little over a year from also leaving the nest.

For Frank and Janet, formal retirement was on the horizon. It would not be abrupt for either of them but a gradually disengagement from the corporate milieu. Both looked forward to it. They would stay busy. There would always be their beloved canines and their special children. Theirs was a close knit and loving family and both parents looked forward to sharing the events of their kids' lives that would unfold...and hopefully provide grandchildren.

Frank and Janet had become inveterate homebodies, boring, some might have said, and seldom strayed from the special place in which their love had matured except to visit their children or very special friends. As they aged together, their three children spent a great deal of time with their loving parents, bringing their spouses and their children. Over the years that ensued all three young families drifted back to Ohio...because family and the love and comfort it provided had become more important than almost anything else. Ultimately all three built their own homes on the sprawling farm, leaving only occasionally when the harsh Ohio winters drove them south, and even then traveling together to a special place in Florida that could accommodate the entire clan.

Frank had retired the Citation and moved up to a Gulfstream IV, needing those extra seats for his brood which now included nine grand children. As he neared eighty, he seldom took the controls, leaving the pilot duties to one of his children---all of whom were accomplished pilots. He and Janet sailed a small boat on the man made lake a few miles from the farm several times a week, and enjoyed family outings on a Morgan at the Florida home. He'd never really liked Morgans, but he'd fallen desperately in love with his special bride on one so many years ago...and there was plenty of room for everyone he loved on board.



Looking For Love and Foucault



"Remember, you have type 3 hair, so promise me you'll use a good conditioner, and don't borrow some other girl's," she said.

"Okay, Mother, you can leave now, my hair and I will be fine."

"And sweetie, the most important part of this year is rush. So start researching the sororities early, and focus on a few superior ones that you think you really have a good shot at."

"Yes, Mama--"

"And don't fall into the habit of snacking. The 'freshman 15' has doomed more girls' chances of getting that M.R.S. than drugs or getting you-know-what."

"Okay, Mama! You can go--"

"My little girl, gone to college--" she started to tear up.

"Not here, Mother!" I said, getting more formal again.

"Right," she said, and pulled herself together. Years of competition-- she had been Miss Low-Till Farming in 1977 and Miss Soybean in 1978, and I had been Miss Cledmore County and come in third at the state finals last year-- meant that she knew how to conquer her emotions and put on a brave face. "Have a wonderful time and find a wonderful boy, preferably pre-med or business school," she said, kissed me on the cheek, and then there was just the clacking of her heels down the hallway.

I looked around my private room-- Mother had insisted on paying for one, she was very concerned that I not end up with a roommate who might stand in the way of landing the right husband. Well, considering how well she had done with Daddy, and Stepdaddy Jim, and Stepdaddy Brad, she could afford to give her little girl the very best. It didn't entirely have Mother's personal touch-- she hadn't had time to paint it dusty rose-- but it did look like a flower factory had exploded in here. That was her style, for sure.

I unpacked some things and thought back, a little nostalgically, on my last few days in Croweville before moving up here to the university in Sparta. My last date with Trent had gone badly. He knew he was being dumped, that Mother wanted me to find someone more collegiate than a guy who was likely to work in his dad's body shop the rest of his life, so he tried to finally get me to do it with him. 

I got out of it, as usual, by giving him a BJ-- Mother had taught me early on that there were ways to keep a boy happy without risking a baby-- but as I worked on his thick, bumpy, stinky little pole until he splattered his goo onto the Kleenex I kept handy, I couldn't help but think that this was a pretty high price to pay just for having a boyfriend to go places with once in a while. Would sex with the future doctor husband of Mother's dreams be any more satisfying? Or would it just be the price I paid for the house and the cars and the trips, too?

That night, as I lay in bed on my first night away from home, I thought about the path Mother had laid out for me-- for the first time, or at least it seemed like the first time. It was so simple, and it had worked for her so well, that I had never questioned it-- find the first husband, if things didn't work out encourage him to have a fling by cutting him off in the bedroom, then catch him in the act, big settlement, find next husband, repeat as often as necessary. It sounded like a great plan, except for one thing-- what about love?

Where did love fit into it? Where did finding your soulmate and growing old together come into it? Mother had nobody but me now, and now I was gone from her house, at least, if hardly her control. Was that how I saw myself, 20 years or so from today-- sending my girl off to college and coming home to a big, admittedly very big and nice, but empty home?

Suddenly college was making me very sad, and scared.

* * *

The social life in a dorm is so busy in the first few weeks that I had no trouble meeting lots of boys. But there were so many of them and they were so much the same-- all bony elbows and pawing-- that I think my doubts started to show. I heard a couple of stray comments about "boring" or "stuck up" or "doesn't seem interested." And you know what, they were right. I was just kind of freaked out by the whole thing-- that I was supposed to look over all these young stud bulls and decide which one had the best earning potential for me, and then rope him and brand him. ("Ring by spring...")

Meanwhile, I was kind of getting into the school part of college, believe it or not. High school work had always been easy for me, but for the first time I had professors who weren't just teaching to the dumbest kids in the class but actually forcing me to think, analyze things, use my head. Mother had always warned me about seeming too smart, that that rarely helped a girl get a man, but suddenly, smartness didn't seem such a liability, even if it was a surprise for them sometimes to hear something bright come out of a tall blonde with good beauty habits.

So I kind of let my participation in the social part slide and focused on my classes for a bit, as much as that would have disappointed Mother. We talked every day and I could tell she was getting a little frustrated at how vague my answers were about who I was seeing, and what social events I was planning to attend in the next week.

One afternoon I went to the campus bookstore in search of books by an author one of my professors had been talking about, that sounded like it had some interesting things to say about sex. I only knew how the name was pronounced, not how it was spelled, and I wasn't having much luck finding the author on the shelf, so I tried to find somebody who could help me. The first guy was helping another customer, so I kept wandering in search of someone who could help and soon found myself in the kids' section. 

Then I saw her.

What was it about her that struck me so? It certainly wasn't beauty. She was overweight and, at that moment, displaying an ample crack in the back of her jeans as she sat on the floor, shelving a stack of picture books. It wasn't style-- she had wildly unkempt black curly hair, black hornrim glasses and no makeup, all of which gave her a certain boyish look.

No, what wowed me was that she seemed free. Free of all the things I'd come to school with-- the need to dress up like every day was a job interview (which, to Mother's mind, it was), to impress boys, to be somebody I didn't know if I wanted to be.

She looked up at me. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, I'm looking for a book on a French philosopher-- it's something like Fooko or Fuckall--"

"Feuh-kohhh," she said, trailing the last syllable out.

"Right," I said.

Then she kind of smirked at me and said "I'll see if we have something... for you." As if someone like me was never, in a million years, going to be capable of understanding this big-brained French dude. I felt my face flush-- fortunately my blush would disguise the fact-- as she led me to the philosophy section.

We looked at the books for a minute-- she reached for one called Foucault For Dummies and I dismissed it with a haughty glare-- and eventually arrived at a thin introductory volume. All the while, though, I was looking at her-- her fat breasts loose under her Obama T-shirt, a roll sticking out on one side of her hips, her ample butt squishy in her jeans. There was something monstrous about her, large and hairy as she was, something repellent and yet magnetic, the sight of a woman my age so completely devoted to a different way of presenting herself to the world. I tried to imagine letting myself go like that-- no, it was too awful. And yet I couldn't tear away.

I took the book and thanked her, and as I walked away she sort of shook her head a little and smirked again, as if in amazement at the exotic creature she'd met today.

* * *

I devoured the book and was back at the bookstore within two days. I was eager to tackle Foucault's major work, The History of Sexuality, but just as importantly, I wanted to buy it from her, show her that I had been capable of reading such a work and understanding it.

I had thought about her a lot in the past two days, trying to puzzle out what it would be like to be such a person. To present yourself that way to the world. Could I do that? Could I make such a radical change to myself and what I was here for? Could I stand the conniption fit that Mother would throw as a result?

I wandered the aisles, Foucault in hand, but didn't see her. Resigned, I found the philosophy department, and looked through it, but didn't seem to see volume one, The Will to Knowledge. I leafed through the second volume, but it was about ancient Greece, and seemed less interesting.

"Still looking for Foucault?"

I turned around and there she was, just as I'd remembered her-- rough and unkempt. Yet there was something lovely about her pale skin set off by black hair, even if some of it grew where it really should be plucked.

"I finished this, so I wanted to read his History of Sexuality," I said.

"You finished it?" She still seem bemused by me, the bitch. "What did you think of it."

"I thought it was interesting," I said, wincing at such a lame opening statement. Hurriedly I added, "I was interested by his concept of repression as being not just an instrument of control over our sexuality, but also, how we define ourselves. Like, if society wasn't there to set the boundaries, we wouldn't be able to, you know..."

"Construct an identity," she said.

"Right," I said.

"Because the one thing we see around us is that some people have very strong constructed identities," she said, peering at me through those black hornrims.

"And it may lead people who have their own constructed identity to make assumptions about others which might be too narrow," I said.

"Where in fact, their identity might be more fluid," she said.

"There could be a lot of fluidity," I said. 

"So which one are you looking for?" she asked. "Which book, I mean."

"Oh, uh, volume one of The History of Sexuality," I said. "But it doesn't seem to be in stock."

"I have it," she said.

I looked at her, wondering what she was implying.

"If you'd like to come over for some tea, I could lend it to you," she said.

* * *

"Power isn't just about ordering people to do something," she said. "For Foucault, it's a whole system that makes you want to do something. That could be morality, it could be science, it could be marketing. It doesn't have to be a guy with a gun ordering you around."

We were sitting on a big puffy couch, reclining face to face with our tea cups in our hands. She was puffy too, a landscape that rolled and curved over the couch, I felt very bony next to her. "So that's what he means by hegemony? The ideas are so deeply ingrained that it's how you view the entire world--"

"Right. Any other way of acting would be unthinkable."

"And that's why he's so focused on discipline--"

"Well, maybe not the only reason," she said, with a sort of smirk.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he was also a gay guy who was into S&M and stuff like that," she said. "So I think his interest in discipline was more than academic, if you know what I mean."

"Oh," I said. We were quiet for a moment. "So what about freedom? Is there such a thing?"

"Well, I think that's his point about power," she said. "We create power by rebelling against it and defining it."

"But is that a bad thing? Aren't we at least affecting it by pushing against it?"

"Yeah, I think that's part of how Foucault is different from a lot of other philosophers," she said, kicking her sandals off, exposing her long toes. "Marxists view power as a very rigid game with two teams. Foucault's view of it is much more dynamic-- it's not just religion or the state--"

"It's in all the ways we deal with people," I said. My hand bumped into hers. It stayed there, feeling the warmth coming from her skin.

"Right," she said.

"Like in how members of different social groups act to each other on campus. They assume certain things about each other, when maybe..." I said, trailing off.

"They want the same thing and don't know it," she said. "And they need to break through how society defines them--"

At that moment I was done talking about Foucault. So I leaned forward and kissed her.

Her lips were so soft and yielding, it was unlike any time I'd kissed Trent or any boy. I loved the heat coming from her mouth as our lips mashed together. I wanted to eat her up.

She put her hand to my breast and I grabbed hers, roughly, the big round blob of tit that it was under her cotton T-shirt. I could feel her nipple getting hard under her bra and I knew I had to suck that nipple, now. So I grabbed her shirt and pulled it up. She laughed, someone's in a hurry, she seemed to be saying. She reached behind and popped her bra and then those beautiful fat tits came tumbling out and I dove for one of them, sucking her nipple while mashing the other against my face. God, they were so soft and wonderful, big spongy boobs, I wanted to suck on them forever, to live between their soft pink bounciness.

She pushed me back and began unbuttoning my blouse. I just stared at her, topless, the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, her unruly black curls falling over her face, her big boobs dangling in front of me, her soft tummy swaying from side to side, a mole with a little hair sticking out right under her tits, adorable. She unsnapped my brassiere in the middle and then she grabbed my smaller breasts and began flicking her tongue over my nipples, my toes curled up, it was wonderful. She came back up and kissed me again, and I sucked her tongue in, greedily, while squeezing her dangling tit.

Then I rolled on top of her, her fat breasts lolling to either side as I kissed my way down, past the hairy mole to her stomach. I grabbed her pants and began to pull them down, and as I did, a magnificent forest of curly dark hair sprang up. Her crotch was as untamed and hairy as the rest of her, maybe moreso, and now it was my wild place, to lick and suck into submission. I felt no hesitation about the step I was about to take; I knew that this was what I was, that I felt about her pussy as I never felt about any of the cocks I'd had in my hands or my mouth, spewing their stinky cum onto me. A pussy was a natural and beautiful thing, and this one would be mine to lick to ecstasy.

I spread her legs apart and there it was, in all that black fur, slimy purple lips dripping with anticipation of my tongue. I dove in and spread them apart with my tongue, licking up and down the length of their slippery warm womanliness. They tasted of salt and metal and wet velvet— no, they tasted of themselves, pussy, the thing I knew I needed from now on. What was that about identities being constructed? This was my identity, from birth I now knew, licking her slick wet snatch, feeling her petals undulate under my tongue as I kneaded her big round bottom. Oh, the hours I would spend loving that fat bottom.

I slid a finger into her pussy and then another, slowly fucking her as I lapped her clit. She started moaning, her big ass shaking the world in front of me, and then she clamped her soft thick thighs around my head and I felt her pussy squeeze my fingers, rhythmically. I'd made her cum, me and my fingers and tongue, her pussy was responding to me, it had given herself over to me.

We cuddled for hours, feeling each other all over, playing with the newfound joys of soft fat breasts, squishy tummy, hairy bush, long toes. I was inexhaustible, I wanted to lick at her womanliness for hours, I saw stars when she climbed on top of me, fucking me with her fingers while she sucked my nipples, kissed her own juices off my face. We couldn't have been more different, me blonde and well-groomed and long and lithe, her pale and dark-haired and messy in every direction with her wild hair and monobrow and chubbiness. But she was everything I wanted under me, in my power.

Foucault would have understood, I think.

* * *

Mama took it badly at first— if you can call a pretend suicide attempt taking it badly (four Midol and a glass of champagne is unlikely to be fatal, even if you do leave a three-page note). But over time I saw a change in her attitude toward Liz and me, and finally I realized what it was— she saw that we were in love, and I think that was something she'd never seen before.

Now we go shopping together (she's slightly femme'd Liz up, though there's a long way to go to make her Miss Low-Till Farming) and hang out together during break, drinking chardonnay and talking girl talk. I've even started to wonder about Mama— could she have been so unhappy in her relationships, at least in every way except money, because she...? It's a funny thought, but she's taken good care of herself, and her marriages certainly have left her well fixed. She'd make a nice catch for some gal. Maybe she should go back to school for her Ms.