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The Taking of Amy

By: fantasy123



Author's Note: This is the tale of a married couple who are secure enough in their love for each other to welcome a young woman into the loving circle of their arms. If you find that theme troubling, this story is perhaps not the right one for you.

On the other hand, if you are the sort who would go "Oh, I wish I was in that little mix of limbs," then what are you waiting for? Read on and enjoy. 



The Taking of Amy Johnson



PROSPECT -- Embattled librarian Eve Foucault resigned abruptly Wednesday night after Cincinnatus County Public Schools Superintendent Roy Fraser told a packed school board audience she would not be offered a contract for the 1994-95 school year.

Foucault's dramatic resignation ended a two-month standoff between the 24-year-old Howell Elementary librarian and Prospect Parents for Decency, which in October accused Foucault of stocking inappropriate books and promoting Satanism to children at the school's annual Harvest Festival.

"I wouldn't say that I'm happy about this outcome, but I'm satisfied that Superintendent Fraser and the board have come to the right decision for our children and the community," said Amy Johnson, president of Prospect Parents for Decency. "I consider Miss Foucault a tragic figure, certainly a deceived young person, but she brought this infamy upon herself by insulting Christian values and defying the school community she served."

Foucault left the meeting in tears without answering questions and did not respond to phone messages seeking comment this morning. Her attorney, Delores Apple of Charlotte, said Foucault was "literally the victim of a witch hunt by the Prospect Baptist Association," and called the decision to deny her client a contract "proof that Prospect remains mired in 17th-century bulls**t."

Frasier's announcement came after Howell Elementary Principal Fred August told the board he had reversed his previous decision and would remove all copies of "The Good Little Witch" from the school library. Later in the meeting, Jane Eastway, chairwoman of the Howell Elementary PTA, read aloud a letter from the group promising to present its plans for the 1994 Harvest Festival for public review. 

The 1993 festival became the focus of widespread community outrage after this newspaper published a letter to the editor written by Johnson, a 26-year-old mother of two and the wife of the Rev. Max Johnson, youth minister of Prospect First Baptist Church. 

Amy Johnson, who represented Cincinnatus County in the 1989 Miss North Carolina Pageant, previously made headlines when she accused Foucault of purchasing and circulating copies of a children's book that promoted a Satanic religion known as Wicca. At the Harvest Festival, Foucault organized a "witches broom race," in which students wearing black paper hats raced around an outdoor course while holding a broom between their legs. In her letter, Johnson called the festival "a public insult to Christians" and announced the formation of Prospect Parents for Dignity. 

"We are experiencing a civil war in America," Johnson said after Wednesday night's decision. "God is on one side and Satan is on the other. In New York City and Hollywood and Raleigh and Charlotte they laugh when they hear a truth like that, but we march on. We know first-hand that sin surrounds us, and the Devil wants nothing more than to slip inside us when we least expect it."

-- "Librarian resigns school job under PPD pressure," The Prospect Beacon, by Steve Black and Emily Du Bois, Jan. 6, 1994.

***

Oh, I've certainly had my eye on Amy Johnson for some time -- since before she was Amy Johnson, in fact. Back in those days her last name was Perkins, and the other kids called her "Amy Perky." It wasn't a reference to her personality so much as to her incredible breasts, which developed early and remained both luscious and firm well into her thirties.

Were they perfect? That's an unusual question, I suppose, but one I've often pondered. Because, yes, Amy Perkins' breasts were so awe-inspiring that one couldn't help but notice them, and having noticed them, one couldn't help but remember them, think about them, project them. Had God made them any larger they would have lost their shape, their gravity-defying projection. Had He shaped them differently, or hung them lower, or graced them with smaller nipples, less prone to arousal, would they have burned their way into the memory and secret imaginations of so many of her classmates? 

Hell, forget her classmates. Imagine what those breasts, attached to such a beautiful, fresh teen, did to the older men in Prospect. How many followed their fat matron wives on expeditions to Belks just for the chance to ogle smiling Amy Perky behind the fragrance counter? How many closed their eyes and drilled those matrons hard while images of the innocent-but-provocative perfume girl bouncing across the cinema of their minds?

And so, with nothing but time on my hands, I often wondered: Were they perfect, her breasts, all perfume? Because one time she hugged me, and I felt them pressed against my torso like living, animate creatures. And they burned into my memory, leaving still-painful scars. 

So yes, I determined. Amy's breasts were perfect. 

Perfect for sin. 

Perfect for sin because they evoked its mystery, expressed its power, and cloaked all of it in shame and bitterness. It's not quite sin without of that conflict, so in that light, Amy's breasts inspired sin. Perhaps she knew it. Perhaps they inspired it in her as well. Perhaps she wondered, as I often had, why God would curse her with breasts so certain to arouse the Devil in any man. Or woman, for that matter. 

Which was why, when I finally brought her under my power, when she finally lay spread-eagled and naked on that round wooden table, bound tight at ankle and wrist, knees bent beneath the surface, her downy pubes hanging over the edge, wet and vulnerable, oh how my attention wandered there. 

Middle-aged now, her breasts rippled and swung with each thrust of my cock into her sopping-wet sex. But rather than add my load to those who had come before me, so to speak, I pulled out of her at the last moment, my right hand gripping the base of my cock hard enough to dam the semen coursing upward while I walked to the head of the table and positioned its tip above her face and aimed for her chest. When I released my grip, sperm shot forth with impressive force, releasing contraction after contraction to fall on her once-perfect but still inspiring breasts.

Call it a tribute.

Satisfied with my work, I took my still-wet cock and rubbed it across Amy's lips. Instinctively, like a nursing infant, her mouth opened, taking me in. O how I enjoyed that moment, that visual. 

The former head of the Prospect Parents for Decency, and our famously pious State Senator, bound naked to a table, covered in cool sweat and warm semen, blindly and contentedly sucking my sticky Satanic cock in the dancing firelight.

Anyway, that little Halloween ritual was the first of our encounters. It wouldn't be the last. 

***

The first year was probably the most challenging. Sen. Amy Johnson was a heavily scheduled woman. Man does not live by bread alone, she liked so say, but Amy was a person who by all appearances lived solely by Blackberry. The device kept her schedule when it wasn't attached to her ear, which was most of the time, and she fiddled with it obsessively. I considered it almost an extension of her expansive will, Amy's own magic wand. Through it she kept dozens of people across the state jumping, motivated and perpetually agitated along the various strands of her web. Senate committees, various state boards, the state Baptist Convention, and now half-a-dozen national "values" groups relied upon her direction and leadership. 

And then there was her husband, the aptly named Max Johnson. In public she always deferred to his "steward leadership" of their family and the Prospect First Baptist congregation, but it didn't take a gifted observer to understand that both those worlds revolved around Amy Johnson. In fact, Max's success in life could be fairly attributed to three convergent facts: 

1. Max enjoyed the largest penis in Cincinnatus County, and I do mean he enjoyed it, at least in his youth. It seemed so alive to him, so separate and single-minded, that in his teens it actually felt like a companion, an independent entity. But Max's penis obsession, along with his mother's overwrought erotic horror of it, conspired to make him both enormous and enormously ashamed; 2. Max was, by nature, profoundly queer, perpetually rationalizing his overwhelming temptation to sodomy or desperately seeking God's forgiveness for his most recent furtive coupling; 3. In marrying Amy, and in surrendering to her power in their private life, Max was able to remain safely closeted and plausibly heterosexual. 

So when Amy determined in college that Max would go beyond faith and declare a calling to the ministry as a condition of their marriage, he did it. And when Amy saw a path that could take him past the other associate pastors and straight to the top of the Prospect First Baptist hierarchy, he took it. And when Amy decided that the local Baptist association was shirking its steward leadership duty to the larger community, he saw to it that all the local churches understood what their social policy agenda would be for each coming year. 

Obsessed as I was with Amy, I marked their progress carefully. Max was the only boy in her high school graduating class who wasn't usually calculating opportunities to grope her, which made him a natural boyfriend for a young woman so terrified by and fascinated with the extent of her sexual power, I suppose. Particularly given the circumstances of her home on Washington Street, where Papa Perkins took a great interest in Amy's hygiene routine and sleeping arrangements. An asexual boyfriend must have been a relief, if not exactly a pleasure, during her warped formative years. 

Was Max such a pleasure in their twenties? It's hard to imagine that he was. He gave Amy two children before the bi-sexual libido shut down permanently, probably in self defense, but we're talking about a man with a profound aversion to the vagina, both as anatomy and symbol. As the intimate details of their marriage emerged in our annual confessionals, I began to feel quite sorry for her. 

But I get ahead of myself.

The thing to understand is that the pit of Hell first opened through Amy Johnson's Blackberry. Not as emails or calls, but as service messages and pop-up warnings. Clever little thoughts like "YOUR SIN IS KNOWN TO ME. #666" and "YOU CANNOT ESCAPE MY POWER. #666." Amy was never stupid, but it's safe to say that she lived in a magical world, and this worldview largely defined her attitude toward technology, too. So before long she was conducting secret conversations with Satan through her Blackberry, convinced that Lucifer had turned the gadget into some kind of evil walkie-talkie. 

A service alert would pop up on her phone with some message like "WE KNOW WHAT YOU REALLY WANT. SOON YOU WILL SURRENDER TO IT. #666," and clever little Amy would dash off a text message to the non-existent cell number 666. Answers like "YOU HAVE NO POWER OVER ME!" and "I AM WASHED IN THE BLOOD!" came first, but over time her tone shifted perceptibly. "YOU ARE THE PRINCE OF THIS WORLD AND HAVE WHAT YOU WILL, BUT MY SALVATION IS ETERNAL." 

This kept up through the summer and fall of 2008, as the pretty illusion of America that she knew and loved began to disintegrate around her. Yet for all I could tell, she never mentioned her private banter with Satan to anyone from her circle of church friends.

The next step toward her inevitable surrender took place on Wednesday, October 29, 2008, when Amy's Blackberry chimed in with this message: "AT MY FEAST IN THREE DAYS TIME YOU SHALL SURRENDER TO ME, AS YOU HAVE ALWAYS KNOWN THAT YOU WOULD, AS YOU HAVE ALWAYS DESIRED AND FEARED. YOUR DELICIOUS RESISTENCE TO THE INEVITABLE IS YOUR GIFT TO ME. #666."

The message appeared to her during a prayer breakfast for the directors of Prospect's annual Lottie Moon Offering, and Amy blanched visibly, stood up unsteadily, and excused herself, tottering out of the Shoney's into the bright October sunshine of the parking lot overlooking the Bypass. After composing herself, she climbed into her white Suburban, drove home, went directly upstairs and locked herself in the bathroom. She cried and prayed for several minutes, then stripped down and slipped into the tub, where she spread her legs beneath the faucet and let the hot, pounding stream bring her rapidly and violently to an overdue climax.

Afterward, she put on a fresh outfit and went to her next appointment, appearing neither upset nor shaken as she spoke about voter registration to the Cincinnatus County Republican Party Women's Auxillary coffee club.

Her big test took place on Halloween, Friday the 31st. The mysterious #666 account sent Amy several preparatory messages, but she maintained her prepared schedule without deviation, beginning with a campaign team breakfast, followed by a mid-morning meeting with the mayor and a noon excursion to Howell Elementary, where a two-person crew from Eyewitness Action 5 interviewed her in front of the building.

"When people of faith say that they're powerless to stop the evil that's taking place in this country, I like to bring them here to remind them that we can accomplish anything so long as we're on God's team," Sen. Amy Johnson told the pretty blonde reporter, who looked something like a cheap imitation of the profound beauty Amy had been in the early 1990s. 

"There was a time not so long ago when this school used to put on an annual Halloween Festival, using public dollars to promote a Satanic agenda. We challenged it, and they changed the name to a Harvest Festival, thinking they could skate by with politically correct language. But we kept on fighting, year after year, until the parents finally rose up and took control of not only the school's event calendar, but of their own lives as Christians." 

After the interview, Amy scrolled cheerfully through her email while her volunteer communication director texted in the back seat and her full-time campaign assistant, a recent college graduate named Betsy Cone, steered the Johnsons' Suburban through lunch-hour traffic back. 

That's when it all got real. The service-message chime went off on Amy's Blackberry, signaling an incoming missive from Satan, and Sen. Johnson silently read the following: "WE HAVE TAKEN CONTROL OF YOUR WEAK-SPIRITED ASSOCIATES. NOW YOU WILL COME TO US. #666."

"Betsy," Amy asked calmly, "you're very quiet today. Are you okay?"

"We are fine," her assistant said without taking her eyes off the road. "It's our highest of holy days." Then she turned and smiled ominously at her boss.

The fact that the controls on Amy's Blackberry had suddenly stopped functioning confirmed it: Satan was finally making his big move. Amy reached out to take the wheel from her assistant, but her volunteer communications director leaned forward from the back seat and restrained her. They struggled only long enough for the young man, a former linebacker at Gardner Webb, to inject Amy with the sedative, and though the scene took place in public, the Suburban's expensive tinted windows kept everything private. 

***

When she woke, Amy found herself staring up into a twilight dome of sky, the tops of the silhouetted trees around the small clearing curving darkly across her field of vision. It took her a moment to remember where she had been, and she sat up with a sudden gasp, clutching at her knees reflexively and casting her eyes back and forth around the circle. 

Forty-one-year-old Amy Perkins Johnson, Prospect's upstanding State Senator, sat upon a grassy lawn in a circular clearing in the woods, a sliver of waxing moon hanging in the dark field above her. Thirteen hooded figures encircling her in dense silence. Each held a burning torch, casting competing shadows across the flickering scene as the cool evening darkened with the rapid retreat of the sun. Amy, dressed only in a sheer while gown, practically glowed at the center of it all, a pool of moonlit quicksilver surrounded by black and red.

"Who are you?" she screamed, grasping at her gown and discovering that she was naked beneath it. 

"You know who we are," I said, taking a step forward. "Just as you've always known who we are. And it's time we became one, Amy."

"You don't know me!" she shouted, then stood up formed a cross with her fingers and brandished it in my direction.

"Let's play a little game then, Amy," I said as I stalked slowly counter-clockwise within the circle, never taking my hooded eyes off of her. "I'm going to tell you things only you would know, and then I'm going to ask you questions. For every lie you tell, there will be consequences. Understand?"

"You don't know me," she insisted, but this time it was only a whisper. A hope. It quivered on her plump lips. 

"I'll go first, Amy. Remember your first sexual experience?"

"No. I'm not playing your games." 

"Oh, you remember. Someone you trusted."

"You leave Papa out of this!" 

"Now here's the part that no one else knows beyond this circle, my dear: As horrible and confusing as it was, the part that frightened you the most was the way that, despite yourself, in the weeks that followed, you found that remembering certain aspects of the experience aroused you."

"You are evil," she hissed. "I hate your evil." 

"Good," I said, purring the word like a big cat. "Now you have to answer a question. And be careful how you answer, because there are penalties for lying." 

"I'M NOT AFRAID OF YOU!" she screamed. 

"Ah!" I said. "I haven't even begun to question you yet, and already you lie. I warned you, Amy, that there are consequences for your actions here." I nodded to two of the men in the circle and they moved quickly to grab her by her arms. She squirmed ineffectually as they restrained her, and shrieked as I ripped off her sheer gown with one quick tug. Amy's legs collapsed beneath her as she grasped at the fabric, suspended above the earth by the two hooded men. 

"Now answer my question, Amy. Did he have an orgasm that first time?"

She closed her eyes, reliving the moment.

"Yes," she whispered. 

"Where?" I demanded. 

"In my mouth."

"Good girl," I said, motioning for the men to release her and step back. They lowered her to the ground gently, and I stepped up behind her, stroking her short, frosted blonde hair with both my hands. "See? You told the truth, and nothing bad happened."

"Why am I here? What are you doing to me?" 

I knelt behind her and whispered "Shhh...." closely into her sensitive ear.

"Here's another thing that only the people in this circle know about you," I said. "You don't usually like giving oral sex to your husband, but when you're alone and you touch yourself, the thought of being forced to suck a stranger's cock always helps you reach orgasm."

"Yes," she admitted. 

"Good girl," I said, and kissing the top of her head as I stood up again. "Now tell us, Amy -- and don't lie, or you will face the consequences -- what did your husband Max do that brought an end to your sexual relationship?"

"How do you know that?" she pleaded. 

"Answer the question."

"Sodomy," she said, looking down. "After a while he only ever wanted to sodomize me."

"And you refused him."

"It's not natural!" she said, bursting into tears. "What's so awful about me? The natural me? What's wrong with me?" 

"Yes, Amy, what is wrong with you?"

"You know! My God, I've always felt you around me, watching me, hunting me, undressing me with your eyes! You're always taking me apart!"

"We want to hear you say it." 

Amy wiped her eyes and composed herself, taking a deep breath and then staring up at the moon. 

"I've always thought sinful thoughts. I've done everything I could to hold them at bay, but they're always there, waiting for me in the darkness. I'm ashamed of how they arouse me."

"And you fought the Devil so hard didn't you?" I said, my voice soothing as I stroked the skin on her shoulders. 




The Taking of Amy Johnson



"Yes. I did my best. But now I've lost. Now I've lost everything."

"I don't think you understand, my dear," I said, stepping around to stand before her. "You've exercised your free will, but what you fight the hardest is also what you call forth. That's why we're here. Because your thoughts and actions called us here. And on this night, this night that you call 'Halloween' and we call 'Samhain,' when our dark power is at its zenith, you are beyond His protection and your free will amounts to nothing."

I knelt before her, my finger caressing her cheek. 

"So what's going to happen next is that you're going to fuck everyone in this circle, beginning and ending with me. You will give yourself completely and willingly to each man and woman, all resistance obliterated, for there is nothing you can do to prevent it, and for your surrender and service you will receive unimaginable pleasures." 

"And then you will take me to Hell."

"On the contrary," I said, standing and parting my robe to free my penis. "Now do as you are instructed, for your surrender is the delight of our Mistress."

"Mistress?" she asked, confused. "I thought..."

"Enough talking," I commanded. "Begin the ritual." 

"No," she said. "You know I want it, but if I..." 

"Hold her then," I ordered the two strongest men. With her arms in their firm grip she seemed to relax, like an infant relaxes in swaddling cloths, and as a final aid in her transition, a woman stepped up and tied a black blindfold at the back of Amy's head. Only then did all tension leave her body, and as she accepted her surrender, her mouth opened in invitation. I stepped forward and placed the tip of my now-erect cock on her lower lip, and feeling it there, Amy opened her mouth wider and extended her neck forward, filling her mouth and then softly closing her lips around my shaft. I felt her tongue swirl an erotic fugue around the head, then the sensitive bundle of nerves beneath it. 

"Will you do what you're told now, Amy?"

She mumbled and nodded her affirmation, beginning to bob back and forth on me. 

"Good. So good. You're not to stop what you're doing, do you understand? Because in a moment you're going to feel another woman licking you, and soon after that you're going to be penetrated by a faceless stranger. But you're not to stop what you're doing. Understood?"

"Mmmff," she replied, sucking faster as I described what was about to happen.

"On your knees then, Amy, and suck harder." She complied, and a slight figure from the circle set her torch in its mount and stepped forward, casting back her hood and dropping her cloak to reveal a petite woman with a slightly bony, weathered appearance and extremely long brown hair. I'd known her vaguely my whole adult life, but watching her lick Amy's pussy revealed her in a new light. 

Mr. Black waited in the background, but I could see him preparing, stroking himself in the firelight, and I practically felt his excited breathing from where I stood opposite him. When I motioned to him he tossed aside his cloak and strode eagerly to the center of the circle. 

I'd expected Mr. Black to move directly to Amy, but he surprised me, kneeling behind the scrawny convenience store clerk and entering her with a single dramatic stroke. After a few assertive thrusts, he withdrew himself and stepped right up to Amy, grasping her buttocks roughly and entering her with a dramatic push that made her cry out. 

"Keep sucking," I reminded her. "Are you ready for me to cum?" 

She nodded her head, mumbling. Behind her the store clerk moved into position under her to suck Amy's dangling clit, and Mr. Black fucked her like Beethoven directing a passionate symphony that only he could hear. 

"I'm almost there, my dear," I hissed. "I've been saving up for you. We've all been saving up for you."

My words, the fucking and the cunnilingus now pushed her over the lip of the abyss, and as Amy began to cum, her knees and elbows shivered and failed. She hung on valiantly to my cock, but in her ecstasy she lost most voluntary control, and as the orgasm wracked her in waves of contractions, I helped her complete her task, thrusting my hips the last few times necessary to tip me into my first explosion of the night. A week's worth of pent-up semen gushed into Amy's mouth in the midst of her orgasm, and in an instant she was coughing and gasping for breath, her world a world of cocks and cum and magic and funk. 

As Amy receded, rolling blissfully on her side, her face covered in my sperm, her own juices trailing down her thighs, her fingers kneading the grass like a blissful kitten, I motioned to the rest of the group. Mr. Black stepped aside, lifted the little convenience store clerk and deposited her on his penis, and she rode him like that, the two kissing each other deeply, until he came inside her. Meanwhile, the rest of the group began stroking and caressing Amy, lifting her onto the round wooden table we'd brought along for the event. 

I watched them with a strange sense of completion. This seduction had been years in the making, years of planning and preparation. To see it all executed with such wicked beautifully gave me great satisfaction, but also some much-needed closure. 

I'd admired and feared and loathed and desired Amy since childhood, and finally here we were, in middle age, softer around the middle than we once were, worlds apart in our understanding of life. Yet for the first time in all those years, I felt connected to her. 

In her teens and twenties Amy had been a world-class beauty, but her need to control the world had rendered her ugly, hard and resentful. To see her recast in the role of a polyester ice queen, a cutout caricature of a pageant princess turned family-values enforcer, had long hurt my heart. I understood that she wasn't a good person, but I was far from perfect myself. 

But here she was, freed from the tyranny of her public self, one phony myth replacing another. With her projection of control and order removed, she softened in a way that moved me, and she seemed to grow younger and more beautiful with each longing kiss she so sweetly returned. Amy sucked and was suckled. She kissed and stroked and opened herself, again and again, a shifting, surreal kaleidoscope of skin and flesh. Men and women. Cocks and pussies. After years of violently denying her erotic self, Amy Johnson was suddenly, blessedly freed from the demands of her shame. 

She was no longer having sex. 

She was sex. 

"Happy now?" I asked Eve Foucault. 

"Blissful," she said, her voice disembodied in the shadows behind me. "Speaking of which, you looked pretty blissful yourself with your cock in Amy's mouth, Fred."

"Incredible," I said, watching as one of the men lifted Amy's curvy body up and deposited her atop another man who lay face-up on the table. With her back on his belly, Amy slithered down a bit and found his erect cock, then enveloped it with a strong, well-lubricated stroke. Hands and lips and cocks covered her, enveloped her, and she disappeared beneath them. "She is absolutely incredible."

Eve stepped out of the darkness in her cloak and took my hand, squeezing it. "Thank you, Fred."

"Thank you, Eve." I meant it sincerely. She had re-emerged in my life at its lowest point, just a few months after Amy Johnson and her PPD had finally gotten me fired from my job as principal at Howell Elementary after destroying my reputation through years of campaigning for my removal. I'd barely left the house in the weeks after it all came crashing down. Everything in my life -- my job, my career, my marriage, my self-esteem -- felt broken, trampled, soiled . That the agent of my destruction had been my secret crush in high school only made my humiliation worse. I couldn't help wanting to please her despite everything she had done to me. How I loathed the pathetic failure I had become. 

But then Eve showed up. She was the first person to penetrate my shroud of gloom, and she began by forgiving me for the way I'd betrayed her 10 years. Amy hated beautiful, free-spirited Eve in a way I had been too young to understand at the time, and when she came after my newly hired librarian I didn't immediately recognize the shit-storm that was headed our way. I held out for a while, protecting Eve as best I could, but ultimately I'd buckled beneath Amy's relentless pressure. I was only 27 when it all began, the youngest principal in the county and woefully unprepared for such controversy.

And so I'd failed Eve, and in sacrificing her in hopes of saving myself, I had failed even to penetrate the protective shell around the core of Amy's hidden humanity. I'd betrayed an innocent girl, embraced hypocrisy and ruined my pride, all for nothing. Yet Eve forgave me. 

And then she thanked me.

Because as it turned out, Eve's career disaster here in Prospect wound up being the best thing that ever happened to her. Unable to find work as a school librarian in North Carolina, she moved in with a friend in Brooklyn, got a job waiting tables, and started writing fiction in her spare time. 

Dark fiction. Erotic fiction. New York Times Bestseller list erotic vampire fiction, with dozens of books in her catalog and a three-movie deal, all of it under the pen-name Vispera Venganza. 

Eve's Revenge. 

Because the best revenge is living well. And Eve Foucault lived very well. Well enough to hire me full-time to run her plot to undo Amy Johnson's hateful little feudal duchy here in the moldy ruins of the Carolinas' defunct textile belt. Well enough to fund a network of Blackberry hackers and phony campaign volunteers. Well enough to purchase a private home on the outskirts of town and donate its use to the furtive swingers club that had previously migrated from home to home, always careful to disguise their comings and goings. With Prospect's only network of sexually adventureous couples engaged in our secret work, it was only a matter of time before Eve and I could begin to acquire all sorts of sexual intelligence about sleepy little Cincinnatus County. 

By the time we pulled that stunt in the Suburban, with Amy's trusted campaign workers acting like they'd been possessed by demonic adversaries, we had infiltrated so many corners of town and compiled so many sexual dossiers on Amy and Max and their friends that we knew things we suspected even the married couples didn't know about each other. 

And in a town run by shame, when you know a person's sexual secrets, that person becomes your slave.

"So what now, Eve?" I asked. "Are you going to join in? I mean, you paid for this party." The massed sexing of Amy Johnson had now morphed into a full-fledged orgy, with couples and triangles forming and shifting on the perfectly manicured circular lawn.  

"On another night, sure," she said. "But watching Amy Johnson like this is my payoff. Getting fucked myself right now would just be a distraction." 

"Amy's licking pussy like its her last moment on Earth," I said. "Wouldn't that be a nice moment for you? The prude who got you fired, lapping at..."

"No thank you, Fred. Seriously, this is enough." 

As we watched in silence, Amy rearranged herself on the man beneath her, removing his cock and positioning it at the entrance to her tight little rose. It took her a few tries to get it inside her, but with the man's cock firmly embedded in her ass, she beckoned to an unseen lover, anyone, really, to come and fill her the rest of the way. Within a matter of seconds, both men were thrusting into her vigorously, and Amy screamed with each push, her howling rising across dark forest and field like the spirit of the pagan wilderness.

"Wow," Eve said. "Didn't see that coming." 

After watching Amy give and receive a few more orgasms, I instructed the group to bind her to the table as I'd explained before. "Sure you don't want some of this?" I asked Eve one last time. "Because once I fuck her this last time, the evening is over."  

"Thank you again, my friend," Eve said, then squeezed my hand again. "But ask me how I feel later tonight after everyone goes home and you just might get lucky."

"Seriously?" 

"Seriously. I think I'm going to be horny as fuck after I watch the final act." 

"Lucky me."

"Goddamn right." 

With a wink to Eve, I pulled the hood over my face and walked back to the table, then removed the cum-stained blindfold and petted Amy's face as she tried to catch her breath. "Last one, my dear," I whispered. "It's almost over."

She was beyond words at this point, communicating only with moans and whines and the purring, straining movements of her body. Standing between her bound thighs, I could see the evidence of Amy's magically rough night. Sperm leaked from her ass and pussy and puddled beneath her, a mixture of fluids that would have worried me if I'd not carefully screened the evening's participants. We had no interest in infecting Amy with any diseases, and once we had a copy of her medical records and knew that she'd had her tubes tied after the birth of her second child, I'd encouraged each of the men to cum inside her if the opportunity presented itself. As I stood there marveling at her erotic tableau, Amy's body ground and writhed, eyes closed, pussy reaching out for the last cock of the night.

I didn't need her help getting hard, and I entered her sweetly this time. She gasped slightly, then began a low moan.

"Amy, do you recognize me?" 

She kept her eyes closed and shook her head. I pulled my cock out of her pussy and positioned its head against the opening to her ass. Her hips rocked forward to receive it.

"Tell me my name, Amy," I said, and then slid the first third of my cock inside her.

"You're Satan," she blurted out, then bit her lip as she pushed herself against me, trying to take me deeper inside. "And I'm damned to Hell forever." 

"No, my dear, you're not," I said. "Is there any sin He won't forgive?"

"No," she said. 

I pulled out of her ass and buried my cock to the hilt in her pussy.

"Then what you do with this night is between you and your maker." 

"Don't stop fucking me," she purred. "I've been so alone for so long." 

"Then that's your Hell," I said. "Not this." I put my cock back in her ass, and this time gave her everything I had.

"And this is like heaven," she moaned. "Don't stop fucking me." 

"I won't." 

With my fingers rubbing her clit and my cock going back and forth between ass and pussy, Amy didn't hold out long. I almost came with her, but pulled out just in time and stood panting for air, holding back my semen, waiting for the impulse to subside. I motioned to one of the women in the circle, and Miss Dubois brought me the soap and wash cloth, gently cleaning my hard, jumping cock. When it was fresh again, she kissed its tip and smiled at me, then returned to her place. 

Turning back to Amy, who writhed in her wordless oblivion on the table, I placed my cock by her face and she turned to it languidly, dreamily sucking me as if by little more than instinct. I had to make her stop after only a few strokes, because I didn't want it to end. 

I returned to fucking her. I was gentle this time, cockstroking her with long, smooth thrusts, own pending orgasm tingling and aching all the way into the small of my back as her body cleaved to mine. This was the body that had hugged me once after I hit the game-winning shot, its erotic completeness so electric against mine that I couldn't ever erase the sensation from my memory. And now I had experienced all of it.

I leaned down across her, so that my belly touched her and I could whisper to her in a voice that no one else could hear. 

"What's my name, Amy Perky?"

A little smile creased her cum-covered lips. "Fred August," she whispered. 

"And how did you know?" I asked.

"Because we've always wanted each other, haven't we?" Her eyes flashed opened, and had her arms not been tied down I believe she would have thrown them around me and held me tight. Instead she merely lifted her neck up to kiss me hard. "I tried to destroy you, Fred, I hated you so much." 

"Do you hate me now?" 

"Are you going to kill me when you finish with me?" Her eyes gleamed in the fire as if she wished for nothing more than to be consumed in this perfect moment.

"No." 

"Then no, I don't hate you. Or maybe I do. I don't know. Just fuck me."

That was all I could take, and so I pulled out and rushed around the table to deliver that tribute shot across her breasts, in bitter, loving memory of everything she had been to me. 

Afterward, we blindfolded Amy again and together the group walked her back at the house to bathe her. After dressing her we led her back to her Suburban, where her campaign assistant and her communications director, both of whom were also on Eve's payroll, waited patiently, still in glass-eyed possessed-by-the-Devil character. Each was now due a six-figure bonus from Eve. 

I opened the door for Amy.

"Thank you for a memorable evening, Mr. August," she said, shaking my hand as if we were saying goodnight after a fund-raising dinner. "I'm so glad I got to see you again after all that ugliness at the school board around your untimely departure. But I trust this is the last time we shall meet." 

"It is," I said. "Until my mistress deems otherwise."

"Yes," she said, "Do tell me about this mistress of yours." 

Instead I telling her, I handed her Eve's envelope. I'd never asked Eve what it contained. That was her business. But with all the infrared camera and audio equipment we'd set up around the house and the magic circle in the woods, I had little doubt that a few things were going to be changing around Prospect in the years to come.

"Goodbye, Mrs. Johnson," I said as I shut the passenger's side door. "Merry Samhain."

The white Suburban disappeared down the wooded driveway.

State Senator Amy Johnson's annual demonic abduction by Prospect's forces of erotic darkness has taken place every Samhain since then. The conditions and rules of the pantomime are all part of Amy's larger private deal with Eve, although who included those clauses, and why, remains their intimate secret. Whatever they are, I couldn't care less. They work for me.

And as for Prospect, let me put it this way. Not only have I been rehired as the principal at Howell Elementary, every fall we put on an extremely popular Harvest Festival. And at each festival, Sen. Amy Johnson stops by to award the prizes to the winners of the Broomstick Race. Her graying hair is longer and more sensual these days, and there's a new ease to her yoga-trained body and charisma to her evolving public persona. Party leaders have openly encouraged her to run for governor. 

Which is all nice, I suppose. But my favorite thing about the new normal in Prospect are those photos in the local paper of Amy hugging the Broomstick Race winners. Every shot reveals an expectant gleam in Amy's shining eyes. 

And I know it's because Halloween is only a few days away.



The Taking of Amy



"So how did it feel," I asked her, "to have all the men in the room want you and probably most of the women too?"

When she looked shocked, I whispered, "I know Victor did."

Her body shuddered in my arms. She tried for a brief moment to pull away, but I was holding her too firmly.

"Don't look so shocked, sweetheart," I said, softly stroking her hair, "I would be alarmed if he didn't notice beauty like yours. Our marriage is honest. We admit that we can be attracted to other people. He plays the field when the fancy takes him. We both do."

I lowered my voice to whisper in her ear.

"And occasionally, he brings his latest conquest into our bed and we toy with her all night."

Her eyes were as wide as saucers. Time, I thought, for the final twist of the knife.

"You know, when I said earlier that most of the women in the room probably wanted you, that included me."

She moaned softly at my words. I lifted her face up with a finger under her chin.

"Are you upset, sugar, that I said that?" I asked her gently.

She lowered her eyes, unable or unwilling to meet mine.

"No," she mumbled into the skin of my throat.

After a pause during which she seemed to be resolving some inner struggle, she said, with a tone of wonder in her voice, "I'm actually flattered that you would want me."

"Who wouldn't want you?" I asked, "You are so sweet, so innocent, so heartbreakingly beautiful."

I gave her a moment to ruminate and then decided to take the plunge.

"Come home with us tonight, sweetheart," I coaxed.

When she seemed about to speak, I silenced her with a finger on her lips. They were trembling.

"Don't say anything now. Think about it and give me an answer in the car."

We gently disengaged as Victor returned to the table.

"Are my lovely ladies ready to leave?"

"Yes, we are," Amy replied, with a new firmness.

As the car pulled away from the curb and the lights of the restaurant began to fade behind us, I drew her into my arms and kissed her softly on her lips. She was tense for a moment, her eyes anxiously scanning Victor's face for any sign of displeasure. When he smiled warmly, her body finally melted into mine.

I knew only too well what Amy was going through. I remembered, as though it were yesterday, the first time I had been kissed by a woman. I remembered drowning in the softness, being drunk on her taste. Amy's lips yielded readily to mine. She began to moan as I nibbled her lip, sucked the soft wet flesh into my mouth and painted wet trails of desire on her tongue. When my hand slid upwards from her knees, her thighs parted to let me softly cup her mound.

When I finally broke our kiss and retreated, she followed, searching for my lips blindly, her forehead furrowed in a sweet frown, making urgent little noises in the back of her throat. Her hips began to surge, softly pushing her crotch into my palm. She no longer needed to answer my question. Her body was doing it for her.

"Be patient, my pet," I whispered as I gently blew into her ear, "We're going to take you soon enough."

When we arrived at our villa, I helped her out of the car and supported her in the driveway with an arm around her waist as the vehicle pulled away. When the taillights finally disappeared into the darkness, Victor scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the entrance. She wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled his cheek. He waited patiently while I opened the door and then carried her to the main bedroom.

When he placed her softly on the edge of the huge four-poster bed, she sat quietly, her hands in her laps, her fingers twining. For a long moment, both of us just drank in the vision on our bed -- of Amy sitting patiently, her head bowed, now a little shy and uncertain, not knowing what the night would bring her. For our part, we were determined that the night would bring her pleasure so intense, so devouring that she would be unable to bear it.

I slipped off my shoes, climbed onto the bed and slid behind her. I reached around her body, gathered her tiny hands in mine and gently lifted them above her head. She looked so open then, so vulnerable that my pussy ached at the thought that we would claim that fragile little body tonight. As she obeyed my wordless command and kept her arms raised above her head, I gripped the hem of her half tee and peeled it off her body. As I did, the hem caught on her nipples for a fraction of a second and then flipped loose, making her soft breasts bounce deliciously.

I tossed her tiny t-shirt on the floor and then slid backwards on my knees taking her with me until she was lying flat on her back on the bed with her head resting on my lap and her legs dangling off the edge. Her pale breasts looked so ripe and luscious that for a moment I was tempted to cup them with my palms and softly knead them. I wanted to hear her moan as I worked her flesh. But there is time for that, I warned myself. Make her wait. Make her seethe. ... Make her beg.

I nodded at Victor who seemed transfixed by the erotic vision spread out before his gaze. He tore his eyes away from her breasts and lifted her legs, one by one, to slide off her high-heeled shoes. He gently massaged the sole of each foot with his hands, restoring the circulation. She sighed with contentment in my arms. She barely noticed Victor's fingers undo the clasp of her shorts or unzip her, even though the room was so quiet I could hear each metal tooth of the zipper tear loose.

"Raise your hips, sweetheart," I cooed.

As she did, Victor gently peeled off her shorts and her lace panties, which were still wet from her little performance at the restaurant and sticking to her skin. She was finally naked. We had both held many eager bodies in our arms -- more than would bear counting -- but we had rarely seen anything so beautiful.

Her pussy was so perfectly formed -- like a delicate shell or an exotic flower. Her outer lips were already swollen and had parted to reveal the soft pink flesh within which was shimmering with the juices that had pooled in her slit. Her clit was unusually long, the pink tip peeking out of its fleshy hood. Her sex was framed by a dusting of golden curls, neatly trimmed, which were glinting in the soft light. Our eyes met over her body and they held the same hunger, the same burning need, the same wonder that this miracle was ours tonight. Victor was almost drooling. I shook my head gently. He closed his eyes with a shudder and fought the impulse to bury his face in her crotch and to taste that sublime flesh. 

It is a curse to be so beautiful, I thought. I imagined that her earlier erotic encounters were probably unsatisfactory, hurried fumbles that left her wanting. For what man could resist, after a glimpse of that promised land, the urge to soak himself immediately in her flesh?

"My God, you are beautiful," I marveled.

She blushed, suddenly all too aware that she was stark naked while we were still fully clothed.

"Would you like to see him naked?" I asked her softly.

"Yes ... please."

Her eyes never left his body as it unfurled from the clothes that he carelessly discarded on the floor. By the time he was naked, he was already hard and erect. As she looked at him, his cock twitched and she gasped, her thighs opening of their own accord, offering him the homage of her cunt. My God, she is so hungry, I thought.

"Do you like him, baby?" I asked her.

"Yes ... Oh, God, yes," she stammered.

"Good, because you're his to use tonight."

That brutal assertion of ownership, the sudden realization that tonight her body wasn't hers, that it was ours to savor seemed to arouse her and her thighs parted even more in an unconscious act of submission.

"Would you like to see me naked too?" I asked.

She nodded dumbly. She seemed too overwhelmed to speak. I gently eased her head onto the sheet and then stood up on the bed, above her. I slid the dress off my shoulders and it pooled on the bed in a rustle of silk. I wasn't wearing a bra. When her gaze fell on the soft underside of my pert breasts, I heard her sharp inward breath. As I drew my panties over my thighs, shin and ankles to finally toss them aside, she moaned. Her eyes were riveted to my bare, smooth shaven pussy, which was already shining with the evidence of my arousal.

"So beautiful," she mouthed, her fingers sliding up my shin and past my knees towards the wet flower of my sex. I let her get very close, within a breath of my cunt, before I slapped her fingers away. She yelped, an injured look on her face.

"Not so fast, sweetie. You are not getting to touch that for a long time."

"Why? ... I want to," she whined fetchingly.

"Because we are going to play with you first," I teased, "and do unspeakably delicious things to your body."

She shivered in anticipation and rewarded me with an impish little smile. She shrieked as Victor suddenly scooped her up in his arms, walked around the bed and laid her on her back in the middle of it. We clambered on, on either side of her. Her eyes drifted between the two of us, wondering what we had in mind.

I dipped my head and ran the tip of my tongue along her quivering lip, tracing its outline in a slow, sensuous circle. She moaned quietly as I tasted her. As her lips parted to draw my tongue into her mouth, Victor grabbed a fistful of her hair and twisted her towards him. He held her like that for a long moment, his lips almost touching hers, his breath teasing her skin to let her sense her own powerlessness. When she finally whimpered, desperate for the relief of his lips, he kissed her ... hard, almost bruising her flesh.

When he released her, she was gasping for air. I placed my palm gently against her cheek, turned her towards me and then soothed her swollen bruised lips with one long wet lick. When I sucked her flesh softly into my mouth, she groaned. Soft, hard ...soft, hard. That's the way it was going to be tonight. I knew it would drive her wild. Much more of this and the synapses in her brain would begin to misfire and her mind would slowly disintegrate. And then, when she was wallowing in that secret place where pleasure is a constant and raw sensation the only truth, we would finally take her sweet little cunt.

As we passed her back and forth, for her soft trembling lips to be abused and to be consoled, her body began to jerk, her back arching off the sheets, offering us the sweet mounds of her breasts. Incoherent little noises were issuing from her lips, but I knew what she wanted. She wanted to be touched, to be fondled, to be caressed. She wanted more ... Oh, God, so much more ... than we were giving her. I smiled at her eagerness.

"Do you want us to touch you?" I asked.

"Oh, God, yes ... please," she stammered.

"You have only to ask," I whispered as my hand rose to her breast.

I fluttered my fingers over her right nipple, dusting it with the faintest of caresses. She moaned, pleasure mixing in her eyes with something like regret that she had asked for this -- this fleeting touch that would set her nerves on fire, but leave her thirst unquenched.

And then, Victor's thumb and forefinger closed around her left nipple, squeezing it hard and tugging until the weight of her breast was suspended from that puckered nub. She screamed and her body flung itself off the sheets, trying vainly to relieve the pressure on her nipple. We eased her trembling body down and then began to play. While my fingertips danced over her milky globe, Victor kneaded the breast that he had claimed, squeezing, milking, massaging. Her eyes were wild, her mind already confused by the flood of opposing sensation.

"Do you like what we are doing to you, baby?" I asked.

"... Yes," she managed.

"If our fingers can do this to you, can you imagine what our tongues can do?" I whispered.

"Oh, God," she groaned, "What are you doing to me?"

"Just driving you slowly insane, sweetheart," I cooed.

I spoke the truth.

I shifted my weight on the bed and slowly ran the flat of my tongue wetly along the tip of her right nipple. Her lips parted in a shuddering sigh that lasted as long as that endless lick. Victor was right on cue. He bit down firmly on her left nipple. She shrieked. And then he began to softly chew the rubbery flesh of that rosy peak.

She couldn't seem to stop trembling. Her hands rose to gently hold my head and Victor's to press our faces into her heaving orbs, almost as if she were fearful that our lips may abandon her at any moment. We had given her no reason to believe that we might not. But for now, we were content to devour those quivering globes.

I worshipped the perfection of that sweet soft orb by nibbling and nipping her skin, sometimes pausing to trail my tongue wetly over her flesh. As I circled her breast, teasing, tasting; I kept returning to her nipple to suck it softly again and again into the wet cavern of my mouth. I gazed into her eyes, now glazed over with lust, as I drew her nipple out from between my lips, trailing a silvery thread of spit. That gloriously fragile connection between our heaving hungry bodies made my pussy lurch.

Next to me, Victor was sucking greedy mouthfuls of her flesh hard enough to leave pink circles on her pale flesh. Her breasts would be a sight when we were done, I thought. Her right globe, flushed with excitement, but smooth as milk and her left marked by the soft bruises of Victor's need.

As we ravished her tits, her legs were opening and closing fitfully. She was rubbing her thighs together in a desperate attempt to ease the tension building in her body. My little baby needs her pussy stroked, I mused.

We moved almost as one. Our hands reached out to claim the soft inner flesh of her thighs to flatten her on the sheets. Deprived of the relief, however evanescent, of movement, her body arched, her eyes rolling back in her head. Her fingers tightened in our hair and a strangled moan issued from her lips. I shook my head loose from her grip and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"You are so hungry. Tell us what you want, baby."

"Touch me ... please."

"Where? ... Tell me where."

Her lips were gurgling.

"You know ..." she gasped finally, "there ... between my legs."

"Oh, we already are," I said flatly.

She groaned at my cruel masquerade, my pretence not to understand.

"Oh, God ... touch my pussy ... please."

Her body shuddered while she said it, aroused by the act of pleading so graphically for what she wanted.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" I asked her in a voice like the soft rustle of silk, "to ask us for what you need?"

As our hands began to travel upwards towards her molten core, she struggled to stay still, fearful that sudden movement would dissuade us from our purpose. When my hand reached the junction of her thighs, I gently caressed her pouting lips, tracing its corrugated edge with my fingertips. Victor was, of course, more impetuous. He split her cunt open with his finger from her hole to her clit. He retraced that wet path with his thumb and sank it into her waiting depths. She wailed as she was finally impaled on his flesh. Her lips began to surge fucking herself on his thumb. We let her. She wasn't going to cum that way, but she was going to drive herself crazy.

After a while, Victor replaced his thumb with two fingers, placed the flat of his other palm on her mound to still her and began to slowly ... oh, so slowly ...fingerfuck her. Meanwhile, our lips were still working on her soft heaving breasts, which were now slick with our spit and shining in the light. Her head was thrashing from side to side.

As that delicious ravishment continued and showed no signs of ceasing, she finally snapped, desperate now to ease the ache in her body. She tugged weakly at Victor's hair and as he raised his head to look at him, she pleaded, "Fuck me ... please fuck me." 

My little baby is learning to talk, I thought.

"I can't, sweetheart," Victor was telling her, "Not unless she lets me," he added, nodding at me.

She turned to me then.

"Kathy ... please," she moaned, "Make him fuck me."

I smiled at her softly as I smoothed the hair back from her sweat slick forehead.

"Let me understand, Amy," I said gently, "You want me to make my husband fuck you?"

She opened her mouth to say something, but then swallowed hard. At that moment, she realized that she couldn't form the words; that she couldn't ask me for my husband. Her eyes fluttered closed and she buried her face in my neck with a groan.

"Oh, God ... Kathy ... I ..."

I placed my hand behind her head to draw her close and rocked her gently to console her.

"Of course I will," I whispered into her hair, "I'm going to make him fuck you out of your sweet little mind. But it's too early for that, isn't it ... too early for him to soak himself in your juices? We haven't even tasted you yet. Would you let us do that, baby? Would you let me taste you?"

"Oh, God ... Yes," she groaned.

"Now?"

"Yes, now ... please."

I suppressed a smile at her eagerness. As I began to crawl down her trembling body, I relinquished her breast, which I was still cupping softly in my palm, to Victor.

"Treat it gently," I admonished.

As Victor's lips closed softly over her nipple, I settled myself between Amy's outspread thighs. Victor reluctantly withdrew his wet fingers from her sopping hole to allow me free access. As a preview of coming attractions, I grabbed Victor's hand and stripped her juices off his fingers with my lips. God, she tasted good. I couldn't wait to wet my lips in the source.

I looked at her for a long moment, committing each fold, each crevice to memory. She looked delectable, a feast fit for the Gods. The stuff of Greek myth and you get to taste her, you lucky bitch, I told myself and grinned. I blew a gentle breath over her cunt, cooling her heated flesh. I chuckled as I heard her moan. As that whisper of air traveled over her folds, she was heaving, trying to smash out of the prison of my hands pinning her thighs, reaching for more contact. When it seemed she would hurt herself, I relented and ran the tip of my tongue along the length of her swollen lips. I slowly traced their outline as I had traced the outline of her other lips which were now mewling in appreciation of what I was doing to her.

I sucked each swollen petal into my mouth, wetting it and then gently drawing it between my teeth before releasing it to snap back against her flesh. After they were slippery with spit, I turned to the hot valley between. I traced its length with the tip of my tongue all the way to her clit.

I resisted the temptation to suck that luscious little polyp, now engorged with blood and peeking out of its fleshy hood, into my mouth. But I traced tiny circles around it, stimulating her nerve endings. My lips roamed the surface of her slick inner folds to gently suck in small sweet mouthfuls. By the time I retraced my path and plunged my tongue into her wet hole, she was moaning continuously. I couldn't get enough of the taste of her, of the pearly liquid that I scooped out of her hole. I must have been thirsty. But, at the same time, I didn't want to be too greedy and make that hot little cunt explode in my mouth. I had other plans for her. I crawled back up her body. As I hovered over her, her nostrils dilated at the scent of her own arousal. 

"Your nipples are lovely, sweetheart. But lets give Victor something more, shall we?"

She just groaned in answer. I scooted around to lie on my back and then with Victor's help, flipped her onto my body, her cunt now floating before my eyes. This is what heaven must look like, I thought. She was groggy with a surfeit of pleasure, but she suddenly realized that her face was between my thighs and what lay before her.

I felt her soft hands on my thighs, parting them. I felt her breath on the wet tissues of my cunt, felt her fingers gently part my swollen petals, splaying me completely open. She is looking at me, I thought, Oh, God ... let her find me beautiful. I wanted her so such to taste me, to want me as I wanted her. I willed her on silently, each muscle in my body rigid with anticipation. When I finally felt her lips land in a soft tender kiss on my wet folds, I heaved a sigh of relief and reached for her hips. 




The Taking of Amy



She was eager, but tentative. Her delicate touch, her soft yearning kisses were driving me crazy. She was being too gentle. I wanted more. I softly licked the wet open flower of her cunt and she began to mirror my movements.

As her head began to bob up and down as she worked, Victor got on his knees behind my head and gently parted the leaves of her ass. I heard his sharp intake of breath as her tight little butthole was finally exposed. I saw him lean down and run his tongue softly, wetly through her crack and over her puckered anus.

She gasped at the liquid contact and her body sought instinctively to jerk away from that insidious pressure. But I was holding her too firmly for that. For a moment, her body was rigid; but then as Victor's tongue traveled that terrain once again bathing the forbidden flower of her butthole in his spit, she moaned and her muscles relaxed, surrendering to her new hunger.

I reached up to push Victor's face away from the warm crease of her ass. As he looked at me quizzically, I smiled, trailed a fingertip through her cunt and began to anoint her anus with her juices. I did it slowly, savoring the way she shuddered at my touch. By the time I was done, Victor's eyes were burning with lust. With a groan that seemed to come from his loins, he dipped his head again and began to lick her juices from the tiny folds of her asshole. She moaned into my cunt.

By the time we had done that a few times ... Victor can get really greedy ... her limbs were jerking spasmodically, no longer under her control. I finally eased out from under her body and rose up on my knees. Victor was still holding her cheeks open, gazing longingly at the tight pink hole of her anus.

"You want that sweet little hole, don't you, baby?" I whispered, "You'll have it. And I promise you she will beg you to take it, but not tonight. Tonight, I've other plans for her."

As we watched her body on the sheets, twitching and shuddering under our prolonged assault on her senses, his forehead creased with concern.

"She's going crazy, sweetheart."

"Isn't that the idea?" I asked him gently, stroking his cheek. Victor can be weak sometimes.

I rolled her over onto her back and eased her thighs open. I placed a hand behind Victor's head and drew his face towards her waiting cunt.

"Suck her," I said gently, "but don't make her cum. Just keep her boiling over. I want to cum first."

As Victor's head dipped into the wet grotto of her pussy, I straddled her head and lowered my sex onto her lips. As she felt the wet kiss of my pussy on her mouth, her eyes fluttered open.

"Suck me, baby," I whispered, "Make me cum."

Her tongue burned a long wet furrow in my cunt as she began to lick. She more than made up for her inexperience with enthusiasm and just the sight of that angelic face working between my legs was threatening to tip me over the edge. But before I went tumbling into dizzying pleasure, I wanted something else and I hoped she would give it to me.

I braced myself on my hands and shifted slightly forward. She hesitated for a brief second before her tongue flicked out, branding the soft little hole of my anus. She continued to lick, painting with her spit the folds that radiated from my tiny hole as I threw my head back and moaned. When I could no longer take it, I shifted backwards and offered the plump little morsel of my clit to her lips. She understood my silent plea, slid my clit into her mouth, closed her eyes and sucked. I exploded, screaming my pleasure to the century old rafters of our bedroom.

When my breathing quieted and my heartbeat returned to normal, I looked over my shoulder at Victor and gasped in a strangled whisper, "Finish her."

Victor tenderly cupped the cheeks of her tight little ass in his palms and lifted her cunt into his waiting mouth. I watched as Victor sucked the soft flesh of her pussy into his mouth whole. I looked down at the face trapped between my thighs. Her eyes had widened and there was something akin to panic in them and shock that such pleasure was possible.

It didn't take long. It couldn't, not with Victor lashing with his tongue the wet pulp of her pussy in his mouth. She moaned her pleasure into my cunt. Her lips fluttering helplessly in my wet folds almost tipped me over into another orgasm. I marveled at what this little angel could do to me. I was still shuddering from the aftershocks of my first release.

I held her pinned down as her body shuddered and shook in the whirlwind of her release. She was still twitching when Victor finally lowered her delectable little bottom onto the sheets. I got off her then and began to lick my juices from her lips, her cheeks and her throat. Victor was washing her pussy with long laps of his tongue. She groaned, barely conscious, as her body trembled in our arms like a leaf in a storm.

When the tremors subsided, I whispered in her ear, "Victor did you so beautifully, didn't he? Don't you want to thank him, baby? Don't you want to taste him?"

"Yes," she groaned, her fingers scrabbling on the sheets, reaching out blindly.

I signaled to Victor to lie on his back on the bed next to her. I placed an arm tenderly around her shoulder and raised her up. Her body was still drunk on the exquisite torture it had suffered and her fingers gripped me softly to support herself. When her eyes fell on Victor's prone body and the hard glistening pillar of flesh that crowned it, her lips parted in a little sob. I moved to the other side of him and gently gripped his pulsing shaft in my hand. My fingers barely closed around his girth.

"He's all yours," I cooed.

She didn't seem to hear me. She seemed mesmerized by the sight of his rampant cock, now trapped in the prison of my fist. As she neared, I relinquished my grip on Victor's flesh and his cock twitched. A tiny little shiver ran through her frame as she reached out to grip the throbbing shaft.

"It's so beautiful," she marveled and then she bent down to plant a soft achingly gentle kiss on the straining head. She held it carefully as though something infinitely precious. Her gentle adoration of his flesh was having its effect on Victor who was struggling to stay still. I leaned forward to prize his cock from her grip and then ran the tip of my tongue slowly along its length from his balls to his tiny leaking lips. She immediately followed my cue. She traced the length of his cock with her tongue and then sipped the shimmering pool of pre cum that had gathered at the tip.

The next few minutes must have been the longest of Victor's life thus far. We made love to his cock, Amy and I, our lips and tongue working simultaneously to wet, to taste every inch of his throbbing flesh. Our lips met at his tip and we kissed softly as we engulfed the bloated head of his cock in our mouths.

When I broke that kiss, she claimed him for herself and slid the purple crown between her lips and softly suckled. I had never seen anyone look so contented. Her eyes were closed and she was purring in her throat like a happy little kitten. That gentle vibration was going straight to Victor's balls. He was clawing the sheet into sweaty clumps, desperately fighting the urge to empty his balls into her soft fluttering throat.

I cradled his head in my arms and whispered, "She's beautiful, isn't she? She's going to be such a hot little fuck."

He groaned like I had buried a knife between his ribs. I knew he wouldn't last very long in the unbearably sweet prison of that mouth. I gently gripped her throat to prize her away from his flesh and whispered, "If you keep doing that, baby, he's going to cum in your hot little mouth. You don't want that, do you?"

"I want ... I want," she mumbled around his shaft, holding on for dear life and refusing to relinquish his cock from the tight ring of her lips.

"No, you don't," I explained patiently, "You want him to fuck your sweet little cunt. He wants that too. He's wanted that from the moment he saw you in your sexy tee and your tight shorts. You'll let him have it, won't you, baby?"

At that, she finally looked up, her innocent blue eyes filled with a new hunger, eager now to have her body split open by his rampant flesh. I held her close to me and softly stroked her golden curls as I whispered, "Time to get fucked, sweetheart."

She shuddered deliciously in my arms. I arranged her on the bed, on her back, a pillow under her hips to raise her dripping hole for Victor's invading cock. Victor kneeled between her legs and gazed down at her pliant flesh, hungry now to be claimed.

I took him gently in the circle of my fist and placed the tip against the sopping wet hole of her cunt. She mewled in anticipation of her coming violation. I decided to make her wait. I decided to tease them both until their nerve endings were screaming to be joined. I dragged the tip of his cock through her pussy, marking fiery trails on her wet eager flesh. Her hips were jerking, her hole desperately seeking the relief of his cock. I let her find it and when I saw the relief wash across her face, I pulled it out. The cry that tore out of her throat was no longer human.

Then, finally, I pressed her hips flat on the pillow, aimed his cock like an arrow into her weeping hole and let him bury himself in her depths. I saw his eyes widen at the heat and the tightness of her and his lips parted in a groan that seemed to come from his balls. Then, he began to fuck her with long steady strokes, almost coming out before plunging all the way back in.

Her eyes were wild and no sound would emerge from her open mouth, her moan of pleasure at being fucked so deliciously trapped in her throat. I kissed her softly and sucked the moan from her lips. I caressed her with my voice, wheedling, seducing, stroking.

"He feels good, doesn't he -- long and thick and hard? Is he fucking you good, baby? Is he fucking you nice and deep?"

She groaned, her eyes glazed over with a hunger that she could no longer control. As I looked at those unseeing eyes, I decided that it was time to up the ante and really melt her into liquid lust. I got up to kneel behind Victor and then gently pushed him down until his body was flat against hers. Her lips immediately latched onto his and her fingers scrabbled hungrily on his back. She wrapped her legs around his waist to pull him closer to herself. For what I had in mind, that was perfect.

I gently pushed Victor's legs wider apart and knelt between them. My head dipped to the junction of their bodies and my tongue swept wetly across the tiny little rosebud of her anus. I felt her body jerk and I smiled to myself. I ravaged her tight orifice mercilessly with my wet muscle until she was moaning like a whore into Victor's mouth. 

My lips drifted upwards to capture Victor's velvety balls. I sucked each into my mouth only to release it, wet with my spit. Then I began to lick the wrinkled skin gently, bouncing his soft vulnerable flesh on the flat of my tongue. By the time my tongue trailed over his perineum and dipped into the puckered flower of his anus, they were both delirious with need. I sensed that they were close ... very close.

He was no longer fucking her. They were just writhing together ... one flesh, one desperate raging need. She came first, her body jerking helplessly under his, her scream of pleasure muffled by his mouth. Her spasming cunt finally tipped him over into blessed oblivion. As I saw his balls tighten as a prelude to his release, I lowered my head and rewarded them with a long lazy lick. He bellowed like a stuck bull and his swollen cock boiled over into her cunt. As he came, I kept licking him, laving him ... loving him.

It was an eternity before their bodies quieted and her ankles slipped from his sweat soaked back, relinquishing her grip on his body. I tugged gently at his hips until he lifted himself off her body with a groan and rolled onto his back on the sheets. He had not softened and his cock was glistening with a mixture of his cum and her juices. I delicately gripped his cock between a thumb and a forefinger and licked it clean with long loving sweeps. When I looked up, his eyes were filled with a tenderness that made my cunt weep.

"Come here, you witch," he growled, holding out his arms to me.

I crawled up his body and curled up in his arms, my head resting on his shoulders.

"Didn't you like what I did?" I asked sweetly.

"I loved it," he whispered softly, "I love everything you do to me and for me every moment of our lives."

I felt my heart lurch with a hunger for this man that was so intense that if Amy hadn't emptied his balls with her hungry little cunt, my body would have eaten him alive. I would have thrust his hard throbbing shaft into my womb and never let him go. I felt a momentary stab of regret that I couldn't claim him then, at that very moment, but it passed.

He gently cupped my mound with his palm and grinned at how wet I was. I slithered against his palm, rubbing my wet hungry flesh against it.

"I assume you're not done yet," he said.

"No," I replied coyly.

He laughed and then kissed me tenderly on my forehead.

"Go for it, girl. Take her to heaven," he said, "but I'm going to pass. You two little devils have milked me dry."

I watched his naked body as he walked out relearning the beloved lines that I knew so well until the door closed behind him. Then I turned to Amy who was still lying where I had left her, her sweet body racked by an occasional tremor.

I gazed at her for a long time -- at the face shining with sweat, at the rise and fall of her breasts, at her thighs softly parted and the thick trail of cum oozing out of her cunt. I spread her thighs wider and knelt between them. As my head lowered, her eyes fluttered open. I held them with my own as my tongue gently scooped up the thick white cream leaking out of her pussy lips.

She groaned, unbearably aroused as I was at the thought of my licking up my husband's cum from her swollen cunt. I licked her softly, steadily with long sweeps of my tongue, cleaning her up. When I was done, I slid up her body to fold her into my arms. I let the intimacy of that shared moment sink in before I whispered, "Victor's had you. Now it's my turn."

She looked startled and then bemused as I got up and slid off the bed to rummage in the bedside drawer. Her eyes widened as she took in what emerged from it. I stood brazen and naked before her as I pulled on the leather harness and clicked the thick red latex dildo into place. I wanted her to know what fate awaited her, to see how she was going to be taken that night. She moaned as the red latex cock quivered and bounced as I clambered onto the bed.

"Have you ever been fucked by someone who doesn't have to stop, by something that won't go soft?" I whispered in her ear.

I knew I had her attention. The full meaning of what I had just said was sinking in. Her eyes were riveted to that pillar of red and her thighs fell open of their own accord. She was ready.

I grabbed a fistful of her hair and thrust the dildo between her lips. She drew it into her mouth with a soft moan and began to wet it by running her lips along its length, her eyes closed in quiet bliss. The sight of the dildo emerging from her lips, wet with her spit and glistening in the light was incredibly arousing and I felt a sympathetic pulse in my clit. I had already cum tonight. I wanted now to pound her sweet little cunt, long and slow and hard, until she was reduced to a moaning quivering mass of flesh. But I wondered now if my own desire, my own hunger for her young ripe body would not overtake me and prevent me from doing just that.

I gently cupped her chin and withdrew the thick latex cock from her lips like a sword from a scabbard.

"Let me take you, sweetheart," I whispered throatily.

It was as much a plea as a statement and she sensed the hunger in my voice.

"Oh, God, yes ... please. Take me," she moaned.

When I knelt between her legs, her hips were already weaving tight little circles in the air, eager now to be penetrated. I held the end of the dildo poised against her hungry hole and then pressed forward, burying it to the hilt in her cunt. She gasped.

I remained still for a moment to let her get used to that alien presence in her flesh and then began to thrust in and out. As I drank in the glorious vision of her naked body splayed open before me, a wave of tenderness washed over my body making me shudder. I wanted to possess completely this precious gift that I had received and to claim her in every way that a woman can be claimed. I wanted to hold her, soothe her, shield her, fuck her.

I gently took her wrists in my hands and raised them above her head. As she looked at me questioningly, I covered her palms with mine and pressed them firmly into the sheets. She smiled softly and yielded to that gentle pressure as her hips tilted upwards to meet my thrust, offering her cunt as a sweet sacrifice to my mounting lust. My hips seemed to have a life of their own, wanting to become a silken blur pounding her into submission. But I resisted the temptation and fucked in and out of her with measured slowness, wanting her to feel in the depths of her being every inch of that cock plundering her tight pussy.

As her eyes rolled back in her head and her lips began to tremble, I sensed how close she was to her climax. I removed my hands from hers and wrapped them softly around her throat. I squeezed ... gently, not hard enough to suffocate her, just hard enough to make her gasp for air in urgent little sips. She opened her eyes to look at me. When she saw the infinite tenderness in my eyes and the rampant hunger, she gripped my elbows in acquiescence and her eyes softened in surrender. I fought back my tears at that sweet little gesture of trust and began to fuck her with long deep steady strokes that made her body jerk. She twitched and jerked like a rag doll when she came. I didn't stop.

As I continued fucking her, soft noises bubbled from her throat as a second orgasm shook her and a third. I reveled in her helplessness, in the way her throat fluttered in the loving prison of my fingers, in the waves of mind numbing pleasure that washed through her flesh. I stopped only when I saw the desperate plea in her eyes and knew I had taken her to that point where pleasure becomes so intense as to be pain. She moaned as I finally withdrew from her now exquisitely sensitive cunt.

She watched me, her body twitching and jerking in the aftershocks of her release as I struggled to unscrew the latex cock from my harness. She shuddered as my fingers slipped on its slick surface, drenched with her juices. I finally wrenched it loose, stepped out of the leather harness and crawled into bed beside her.

When I drew her into my arms, she snuggled against my body and sighed softly. She seemed to be drifting off to sleep when she suddenly jerked upright. Her soft hand reached between my thighs, into the wetness of my sopping cunt.

"You didn't cum," she said, her eyes full of soft concern, "please ... let me do you."

"No, baby," I moaned as her fingers trailed through my wetness, "you are exhausted."

"I want you to sleep in my arms tonight," I added, "and I want to ache for you all night. In the morning, I want you to spread my thighs apart and eat me out until I explode in your mouth. I want to be the first thing that you taste. Will you do that for me, baby?"

"Yes ... Oh, God, yes," she replied, shuddering as my soaking cunt kissed the soft skin of her thigh wetly.

I held her in my arms and rocked her gently as she sank into an exhausted stupor. She mumbled softly in her sleep and I wondered what dreams were playing in her head. Was she dreaming of us, of the night of passion that we had shared, of the pleasure that had seared her soul tonight? I gently brushed back behind her ear an errant wisp of golden hair which had fallen over her forehead and thought of the nights to come and the pleasure we would wring from the sweet hungry body of our new playmate.




The Taking of Amy



In a week, Christine would join us in St. Tropez. I was looking forward to her arrival. She had been the first to open my eyes to the pleasures of a woman's body and had a special place in my heart. She was arriving on her birthday and I knew the perfect gift for her -- Amy, naked on our bed, spread-eagled, her delicate limbs lashed to the bedposts with silk scarves, those beautiful blue eyes covered by a blindfold. Maybe I would tie her neck in a silken bow. Gifts have to be wrapped, after all.

I would watch as Christine plundered her young flesh, wrenching moans of helpless pleasure from her shuddering lips. And then, when she was so far gone that her mind was swimming in a soup of endless bliss, I would lower myself over her beautiful face and soak her lips in my juices. A delicious little shudder ran down my spine at the thought and my pussy began to pulse.

Fortunately, I thought, I would not have to wait that long to drip my juices into her sweet mouth. I drifted off to sleep, my mind filled with visions of Amy whispering my thighs apart in the morning, dipping her lips into the wet valley of my cunt and slurping my juices. I couldn't imagine a sweeter way to wake up or a more delicious alarm clock than this golden body nestling in my arms.





The Taking of Angel



It had been a long day, starting at 6:30 a.m. Sending her husband and son off to school, then cleaning house all day, only to have to go to work that night. 

Awww yes, work. Nothing seemed to go right that night. She usually enjoyed working outside at night. However, tonight was awful. It seemed like every time she went outside, it rained. No, rained was not the correct word. Poured!! That's it, it poured. Of course, she left her raincoat at home too. By the time her night was over, she was wet clean through. Now she knows what a drowned cat feels like.

She wearily dragged herself into the house. She strips down to her underwear and drops her clothes in the laundry room. As she heads to her bedroom, she stops to check on her son. Kissing him lightly, and tucking him in she walks through the house to her bedroom. On the way through to the master bath, she glances at the bed. Her husband is sound asleep, curled on his side away from her.

As quietly as possible, she strips off her soggy underthings and steps into a hot shower. Trying to chase the chill off, she turns the water as hot as she can stand, just letting it stream down her body. 

Sighing, she takes her silk like sponge and starts gently rubbing in her favorite body wash. Her nipples have been wet and cold most of the night and are now very sensitive. "Mmmmmmmm, this feels wonderful," she thinks as she slowly runs the sponge down her body. "I'm so tired, but this is so relaxing." 

She softly runs the sponge between her legs. Lightly scraping against her clit as she massages the soap into her pussy lips. Feeling the excess hair, she gently and quickly shaves herself smooth. Though her husband never touches her there with anything other than his cock, he likes her shaved. Yawning, she rinses off and steps out of the shower to wrap herself in a big soft fluffy towel.

"Damn," she says softly. Checking her closet she realizes her night shirts are still in the dryer from earlier. Not wanting to walk back through the house, she decides to just sleep in the nude tonight. She's up before everyone anyway, so her husband will never know. He wouldn't like to find her like this. He's very religious, and thinks to display her body is vulgar.

She quietly slips into her dark bedroom and into bed beside her husband. She's too tired tonight and doesn't want to disturb him.

As she settles back into her pillow, her husband rolls over on top of her. "No, dear," she says. "I'm too tired tonight."

Not saying anything, he kisses her hard, thrusting his tongue down her throat. He feels her body tense as she realizes --- THIS IS NOT HER HUSBAND!!!

He chuckles quietly as she starts to struggle. Her sweet smelling damp body rubbing against him. Using his body to pin her down, he grabs her wrists and forces them above her head. He slowly lifts his mouth from hers. She takes a deep breath, preparing to scream, as he holds her wrists in one hand and places the other over her mouth.

"No, no, no," he whispers harshly. "None of that now. You just be quiet and I won't hurt you. Understand?"

She thinks for a minute, then slowly nods her head.

"That's a good girl. You be nice, and I'll leave without anyone getting hurt."

"Where's my husband? What have you done with him?" she asks fearfully.

"Oh, he's tied up out in the shed out back. He's not hurt, just a bit uncomfortable. You do what I say and he'll stay healthy. Him and your son."

"Who are you? No, I don't care who you are. Leave now and I won't call the sheriff," she says angrily. She's trying to appear unafraid.

"Nope," he chuckles again as he runs his free hand down her side. "I'm not leaving until I have some of this luscious body."

"You do exactly what I say, and you just might enjoy yourself too."

Struggling again, "No.....leave me alone."

"Ok...I see you just have to do this the hard way," he says as he reaches down beside the bed. He anticipated this. He takes a length of rope and ties her wrists together, then attaches them to the rails of the headboard. "Perfect. Now I have both hands free."

She tries to raise her knee up into his groin. To no avail.

He lightly slaps her face. Just to get her attention. "Do that again, and I'll bring your son in here to watch."

"No...please don't....I won't do that again. But, please..just leave. I've never been with anyone other than my husband," she pleads.

She's thinking to herself, why did I have to come to bed naked tonight? What am I gonna do? She notices her nipples have started to get hard again, and her pussy is starting to get wet. No, I can't let this happen.

He places a mask over her eyes saying, "I'm gonna turn on some light now, and you don't want to see my face. I can't let you identify me. Understand that? If the mask comes off......" He let the sentence hang.

She slowly nods her head. He doesn't know she can see just under the edge of the mask. As he turns the light on she can see him clearly for the first time. He's well built...broad shoulders....dark hair in a crewcut. As he turns around, she catches her breath. He's handsome ..... Emerald green eyes, chiseled features. Very clean cut. She expected someone looking like a bum. Not someone with a smooth, well formed chest....down to tapered hips. She feels her body responding, even as she denies it to herself. --- OH....I KNOW HIM! but from where?

He looks at her laying there, arms above her head. Her shoulder length brown hair spread out on her pillow, like a cloud around her head. He can't see her eyes, but her lips are full, and trembling with fear. He watches as she worries her bottom lip with her teeth. She's laying stiff and unyielding, legs together. Her breasts are large, but firm. He smiles to see the nipples semi hard. He knows now, she'll respond whether she wants to or not.

As he continues to look his fill, he gently touches her lips with one finger. She jumps slightly. Chuckling, he slowly allows his finger to follow the path of his eyes....slowly down between the valley between her breasts.....to her belly button....lower....

Bending down close to her ear, so his breath tickles her as he speaks, "MMMMMM, you keep yourself trimmed nicely.....I bet your pussy is totally bald."

He smiles as he feels her shiver. Whether in pleasure or fear is yet to be seen.

She crosses her ankles, trying not to let him touch her. "Please," she begs, "Please stop"

"Oh no, baby. I'm not about to stop. I've been watching you," he says, smiling as she gasps. "Oh yes, I've been watching you for a while. Always so prim and proper. But not tonight, baby. Open your legs for me."

She doesn't respond. She thinks :::I'll just lay here....when he gets tired of this game, he'll leave.:::

"Open your legs, baby," he whispers as he draws little circles in her neatly trimmed bush. His finger dipping lower...urging her legs apart. He leans down and takes her right nipple in his mouth. Slowly circling his tongue around the hard little nub....his tongue matching the pattern his finger is drawing lower down.

Slowly releasing the nipple, his teeth gently tugging as he goes, he whispers, "Come on baby. You know you want to. Your nipples give you away. Oh so hard and getting harder. You can't resist me baby." 

As his mouth finds the nipple again, his hand abandons it's quest for entrance and moves to the other nipple. Circling one finger around it softly. He watches it pucker and get harder, longer. Straining for his touch. He smiles against her breast and quickly pinches the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, while biting the other nipple.

"OH... ohh... nooooo," she struggles. All the struggles do is inflame him more. He feels her weakening. 

Her body is betraying her. Her breasts are full and heavy.....her breathing coming in quick short gasps. She feels like she's suffocating. Her legs are shifting, rubbing together unconsciously. She's not sure what's happening. Her husband never touches her breasts. He usually just kisses her politely, gently climbs on top for a few minutes, then rolls off and goes to sleep.

His voice rough now, he whispers harshly, "That's it baby. Cum for me. You are so responsive, I'm going to enjoy fucking you."

She moans softly as her body responds to his words and his tongue. "Nooooo," she moans as she arches her back and pushes her breasts up harder into his mouth and hands. He can see her legs moving gently up and down....her hips catching the rythym of his sucking on her nipple.

"Oh yesssss, baby.... you want this.... go with it.... ride the crest high... cum for me baby. Cum for meeeee!!" He sucks harder, biting the nipple and pulling it out from her breast with his teeth. Twisting the other one in his fingers. 

Her hips move faster....she's gasping for breath. Her legs move apart of their own will. Her hips are humping air, in time with his mouth. "Ohhh, ohhhhhhh," she moans louder. Her whole body tenses as she hits the top of her first ever orgasm. She cries out, "Oh pleaseeeee, pleaseeeee," not knowing what she's asking for.

Chuckling softly, "That's it baby....that's it. Cum for me baby. My Angel, cum for me." He's pleased to be the first to see this side to her. Her body flushed, nipples hard as pebbles as she arched her body off the bed.

As she gently comes down from her high, she realizes he's just sitting there gently stroking her body from her breasts to her pussy. Watching her. She blushes as she realizes her legs are spread wide, and he's sitting between them. She half heartedly tries to close them.

"Mmmmm, still fighting, Angel? No need for that now. See?" he says as he slowly takes one finger and runs it between her pussy lips. "You are so wet, so hot. Don't be frightened of your feelings, baby. Go with them."

She shudders as she watches him suck her juices off his finger. "Please," she whispers, "Please just let me go now. Haven't you done enough?"

"Oh no, Angel, I've just begun to show you what you are missing. And you are missing it, aren't you Angel? I know this has to be a first for you. I know your husband. There is no way he can satisfy you."

She stays silent. How can she answer him without either lying or betraying her husband.

As he moves his hand toward her pussy, she flinches. "Uh oh....can you see me, Angel?"

"No, no, I can't see you," she says, remembering he doesn't want her to know who he is.

"DON'T lie to me, Angel!!!," he says sternly. "How much of me can you see?"

"J-j-just your h-h-hands, and l-l-lower body," she confesses.

He adjusts the mask. Now she is totally blind. She lays there tense....waiting. She feels him shift between her legs. :::Now he'll take me....let it be quickly...I can't take much more. I'm trying so hard not to respond.:::::

He leans up and takes her lips with his. Softly, sweetly, his tongue licking her lips, asking for entrance. His hands roaming her body slowly....teasingly. His tongue slips inside her sweet lips as she softly moans. He's playing her body like an instrument...an instrument of pleasure.

Breaking the kiss, they are both breathing hard. His cock is hard and throbbing. He wants to just take her and ride her hard and fast. But he can't. He promised himself he'd awaken the passionate woman he has seen behind the facade she presents to the world. HE will be the one to teach her.

"This was your first orgasm, wasn't it Angel?"

No response.

"Answer me, Angel. Tell me how much you loved it. You are so responsive. You came just by me suckling your breasts and pinching your nipples, " he says as he continues his assault on her senses.

"That's ok...don't answer me yet. I'll make you not only answer me, but I'll make you beg me to make you cum," he laughs gently.

Sliding slowly down her body, he kisses and licks his way to her pussy. As his breath touches her pussy lips, she tenses and tries again to press her legs together, to keep him out. 

"Oh baby, you are going to love this," he says just before he slowly licks her clit.

"NOOOO," she continues to struggle uselessly. He's so much stronger that she is. Though he easily subdues her, he doesn't hurt her.

"Yesssss, baby.....relax and enjoy this. You really have no choice." He is now kneeling between her legs, using his ankles crossed over hers to keep her still. Slowly, starting at the area between her pussy and her ass, he licks slowly up and around her lips.

"Mmmmmmm, you taste so sweet, baby." He teases her lips....licking around them, over them, but not through them. Gently licking her clit, his tongue circling it ever so slowly. He smiles as he listens to the mewling sounds from deep in her throat. She's his for the taking.

Her lips are getting thicker, fuller. Her hips start moving, trying to get him to lick her pussy itself. Her hands are clenched around the rope that's secured to the headboard.

"That's it, Angel. You want more, don't you? ... Now ..... Answer my question. This was your first orgasm, wasn't it? You've never felt so good, have you baby?" he chuckles as her body betrays her. He slowly enters her pussy with one finger, while licking her clit lightly.

"Oh...oh...nnnooo...oh...," she moans as her body responds. She can't help it. It's so wonderful, his voice so sexy. She feels her hips raising to meet his finger and his lips.

"That's it baby....let your body decide. Forget everything but the pleasure I can give you."

"Pleassssseeee.....pleassseeee....ohhhhh"

"Please what? Tell me Angel....tell me what you want, what you NEED," he whispers softly. His breathe tickling her pussy.....pushing her closer to her orgasm.

She shakes her head....not wanting to give in, but she knows it's just a matter of time. She's helpless and what he's doing feels sooooo good.

He slowly removes his finger and smiles as he hears her moan of protest. Oh yes, he has her. He slowly licks between her lips....his hot wet tongue tasting her sweet nectar straight from her love hole. "Mmmmmmm, baby..... so sweet....." He teases her pussy with his tongue, just the tip entering, then leaving to suck her clit.

He raises up and leans over her. "We taste good together. Taste yourself on my lips, Angel. Taste your sweetness," he says just before he takes her mouth in a long deep kiss. She initially resists, then suddenly starts sucking on his tongue. Sucking her juices off of him.

"That's it baby....give in to me, to the feeling," he whispers against her lips as he takes them again. He slowly slips a finger back into her hot, wet pussy. Her hips raise to meet him, matching his rythym. He teases her, just the tip of his finger in and out....then slowly slips two fingers in her tight hole.

"Mmmmmmm, baby.... soooo tight. I've got to get you ready to take me. You are going to feel soooo good."

Moaning, she gives in. Her legs spread wider....her hips move faster....closer to that feeling, that wonderful feeling. "Ohhhh...yesssss, please yes."

"Oh no baby.... tell me....tell me what I want to hear," he says as he slowly removes his fingers. Not letting her cum. She must give in totally....she must beg him.

"Noooo, don't leave me like this," she cries. "Please let me cum again...pleassssseee. I've never felt like this before. You were right, this is my first time...pleassssseeeee!!!!"

"Not good enough," he says roughly as he gently teases her clit with his fingers. She has to submit to him totally.

"Your husband never gives you pleasure like this, does he? SAY IT!!"

Sobbing, she replies, "No, he never makes me feel like this. Please, pleasssseee, let me cum?"

"Tell me how, Angel. Tell me exactly what you want me to do to make you cum." His body pressed to hers, his cock throbbing between them.

She whispers, "I want your fingers, your mouth. I NEED you to fuck me with them. Fuck me, pleasssse fuck me. Make me cum. PLEASE!!!"

"Oh yes, baby, that's what I wanted," he says as he slides down and quickly sucks her clit into his mouth. His tongue rubbing hard, while his thrusts 2 fingers into her pussy. He finger fucks her fast and hard as he sucks that clit. Her clit is hard and about a half inch long now. Sticking out, begging for his tongue.

"Yeessss, fuck me....fuck me hard....pleasssse make me cum, pleasssssseee."

He feels her pussy tighten around his fingers. As her orgasm builds, he adds a third finger. Building her orgasm......her hips begging, her juices soaking the sheet beneath her.

"Yesss, ohhh... pleasssseee yesss. I'm ccuuuummmmmiiiiiinnnnnnggggg," she cries.

As she cums, he thrusts his fingers in deep and hard, wiggling them around as her pussy clamps down hard on them. Her juices flowing, hot and thick. He places his mouth over her pussy as he takes his fingers out. He laps up all her juices. He doesn't want to miss a drop.

"Mmmmmmm sweet, sweet baby. That's it," he says gently. Her body shaking with spasm after spasm. "That's my sweet, Angel."

Her hips continue to move with his tongue, as she slowly comes down from her orgasm. She shudders every time his tongue gently moves between her lips. He smiles softly as he gently licking her clean.

He raises his head and slowly kisses the inside of her thighs, then her stomach, teasing her belly button with his tongue. He slowly, gently, kisses his way up her body to her lips. She's smiling softly.

"That's My Angel. So very responsive. I knew you would be," he says as he gently turns her to her side to snuggle up behind her. He continues to stroke her body lightly.

Sighing, Angel snuggles back into his embrace. "What did you do to me? What have I done?"

Kissing her neck and cheek, he replies, "I've shown you what you are missing. I've shown you a need you didn't even realize you had. You have just responded naturally, instinctively."

Angel snuggles back and feels his cock between them. "You're still hard," she whispers.

"Yes, baby. Tonight was just for you. I've wanted to feel your skin next to mine for so long, but I know you're not ready for me yet."

"Will you take the blindfold off now? And the ropes? Pleaseeee. I want to know who you are."

"Soon you'll know me for who I am. Not just yet. You have to be able to honestly tell your husband and the sheriff that you didn't know your attacker."

Suddenly there are noises from the back of the house. 

Sighing, he kisses her one last time as he eases out of bed. "I've got to go, baby. I think your husband has finally found a way to get out of the shed. I didn't tie him too tightly. I'll see you soon, My Angel. Don't forget me."

He quickly gets dressed and glances around to see that he hasn't left anything that can be linked to him. As he turns out the light, he lingeringly kisses her one last time.

"Goodbye," she whispers as he slips out the bedroom window and into the night.