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How to Beg

By: robinet_esclave



With gratitude and obedience- your dearest kitten



Begging is act that is not just an art form, but also a requirement in serving as a submissive. To some subs, it may feel awkward or even humiliating to plead for something they want since it has been engrained in them that the needs of their Dominant takes priority over their own. However, begging actually reinforces the position of power in the relationship through acknowledging that the Dominant has the choice to grant or deny a submissive's request depending on how well their level of desperation or genuine need is communicated. For some, verbalizing their needs can be very difficult since it requires deep understanding of their own desires, the ability to articulate personal feelings and thoughts and makes them vulnerable to criticism, judgment and rejection.

Begging can be displayed in many forms such as verbal pleading, hand gestures or kneeling or even facial expressions conveying desperation. Regardless of the type of begging a Dom enjoys or wants performed, the message of sincere need must be conveyed. In my case, my Dom will tease and arouse me to the point where every inch of my body is on fire with desire and I feel as though my heart is pounding out of my chest and my clit is throbbing with intensity and he will tell me to beg for him to fuck me. I can barely stand not having him inside me, so I compose myself enough to verbalize my need for him and how desperately I crave his cock deep in my dripping wet cunt. The first thing I do, is rephrase what he asked of me. Whenever my Dom asks me to beg for something, it is not his words he wants to hear out of my mouth but my own. He wants to hear my need, my feelings, why I truly want what I am pleading for and not just appeasing his command. 

Verbal begging involves articulating exactly what you want and how you will feel once you get it. This includes details of your desire. To say simply "please fuck me" doesn't say anything about what is driving you to plead for it or even what craving you need satisfied. I will say something more along the lines of, "I need my cunt to be consumed by you, to feel you thrust in me, claiming what you own. My body yearns for the heat and power of your cock filling me, having your body grind against mine. I am your slut, your slave, please use me. My juices are dripping down my thighs I want you so desperately, please ease the agony of my lust and tension by fucking me savagely." This brutal honesty tells my Dom what I want and why I want him. He also knows that it embarrasses me to verbalize such nasty, sexual thoughts and the fact that I'm pleading in this straightforward, specific way shows him that I am doing this to please him. 

In addition to begging with your words, you can also beg with you body or express your desire through your facial expressions. If you spout about yearning to be consumed, that your body actually aches with need to be fucked and used, to have some kind of release from the pain of anticipation, it is important to look like this need is affecting you physically. This aids in conveying that your need is genuine. Getting on your knees and looking up with pleading eyes can humble you, and reminds you that you are begging your Dominant to grant your request. I will find myself placing my hand on my chest while begging, because my words are pure and I am speaking from my heart. There is a pain in my chest from how much I need him to fuck me. I also look him directly in the eye, connecting with him, so he can feel my desire through my eyes. I have the tendency to wear my emotions on my face, so if I am desperate to be fucked, my face will express my agony, my yearning for my Dom's cock. While I'm begging, I will hear myself moan through my words because I am overwhelmed with need. I have also begged only using my eyes because I was in too much anguish to speak, all I could do was look at my Dom with intense, vulnerable eyes as tears of lust ran down my cheeks.

No matter how your Dominant prefers you to beg, it is important to remember that having your request granted is a gift. Pleading properly is to bestow mercy upon you which is something that needs to be earned. While begging, your Dom wants to see your true self, all composure and vanity stripped away so all that is left is a pleading, sex driven submissive who would do anything to have their Dom grant their request. As a submissive, we live to serve our Dominant, and begging for what we need is just another way to please him/her done with respect, honesty and love. 

How To Blow A Guy In His Underpants



One of the best kept secrets is how pleasurable it is for a man to be blown in his underpants. Once a guy can relax enough to let it happen, foreplay will never quite be the same. For couples wishing to explore having sex in public, it is vital that men's underwear flies become inviting and sexy, not merely a clothing barrier. There are many situations in which it is too risky to get totally naked, but dropping a guys' pants to his knees is possible and the ensuing underwear blow job is a real pleasure.

Basically, once the pants come down, you will be staring at white or colored jockey briefs (pants, slips, jocks) or trim/full cut boxer shorts. Occasionally a man will sport a thong or a bikini, but generally such individuals will wear briefs as well. Since the techniques herein only work with underwear that have an open fly, you will have to encourage the bikini or thong wearer to switch to briefs, at least for public trysts! In general, men 18 to 30 wear mostly trim or full cut boxers, or boxer briefs, 31 to 45 year olds sport a mixture of briefs and patterned boxers, and 45 year olds and up are more apt to choose tighty whities.

The fly on white or colored jockey shorts and boxer briefs is very similar, so the technique for blowing a guy through these is the same formula. Basically, the piss flap resembles an oval with a little kink in it. Put the index fingers of both hands on either side of the oval, and pull them away from another. Gradually, a very small opening will be revealed as the flaps of the brief begin to part. Move the opening to where the cockhead is pressing against the fabric and make it as wide as you can. Then, stretch the fabric over the swollen glans until just the head peeps out. You can now swallow the cockhead and press down with your mouth so that the prickshaft spreads the briefs fly one delicious inch at a time. Your guy will be moaning and grunting as he revels in the exquisite sensation of his penis spreading his briefs and entering your mouth. If the briefs are very tight, they will function as a cock ring and keep a man's prick rock hard.

When the dork is completely out of the briefs fly, put your hands up the jockeys' legs and gently cup your partner's balls. At the same time, swirl your lips over the cockhead, making sure to dip your tongue rapidly over the frenulum several times. Gradually alternate deep throating the cock with side and top tongue action, taking care not to go too deeply at first. At this point, your man will be grunting like a sweaty pig and will be working on holding back. Move your fingers up the back of his briefs and put a few fingers in his butt. The intensity of the sensations could very well bring him over the edge. At this point, you could either swallow his cum, let it fly all over the place, or have his shirt catch the cream. If the jockeys are tight it is liable to be a very powerful orgasm, so expect a lot of screaming, swearing, and bellowing. Guys that wear briefs are often skeptical about being blown in them, thinking it will be awkward, painful, etc. However, once they have experienced an expert blow job with them on, the second and subsequent times are a piece of cake and eagerly anticipated!

With boxer shorts, you have the added advantage that a guy's balls can be sucked out of the fly as well. Even die hard brief wearers should be encouraged to wear boxers to bed to at least experience the difference in the blow job technique. As the pants come down, the head and part of the excited shaft will try to poke out of the boxer fly. You may have to undo buttons or snaps (fun!) or simply spread the ample pee flap. The fly on most boxer shorts is wide enough to take a man's balls completely out. Beginning with the hefty sacs, move your tongue as far back as you can, bathing each ball with ample spit. Your guy should be moaning and shrieking if you do this correctly, with gentle pressure and maximum tongue area. After you feel the testicles are ready to burst, move your tongue over the prick head and lick the sides and glans vigorously. Then, take the cockhead and part of the shaft as far down your throat as you can. As your man groans into oblivion, alternate deep throating his wang with frantic tongue action on the head. You can also put your fingers up his butt to facilitate a strong orgasm. 

If you don't want to swallow cum, take another pair of boxer shorts, encircle the cockhead with the elastic waistband, and jerk the prick up and down firmly. This will simulate a blow job, and your significant other will shoot the Load of Loads into the spare pair of underwear. Some couples take a break at that point, and then the guy screws the gal/guy with the boxer shorts still on, also very pleasurable, especially if they are silk. 

One way of making an underwear blow job a special treat is to wait for a certain day of the week (TGIF!) or special occasion, birthday, anniversary, etc. Another possibility is to reward the conversion of briefs to boxers or vice versa with some head through the brand new pair. Usually new underwear is a bit stiff and tight, so the above techniques can get the fly opened up easily, to the delight of both participants! 

With public sex, it is preferable to take the trousers down to at least mid thigh, to avoid the tingling sensation of a guy's zipper chafing his cock. The sight of a stiff dork and bloated balls sticking out of a cute pair of boxers or a trapped cock making a vulgar mound in a pair of briefs should turn on even the most jaded partner. Good luck trying this foreplay variation, and public comments are welcomed as to the following:

1. Did your guy like the experience?

2. Would he want it to be done again?

3. What variations have you discovered that would make the experience even better?

4. Can someone write a counter how-to as to how women's undergarments can be used to heighten foreplay so the two essays can be consulted together? 

Have fun, Sack 



How to Boil a Frog



*This short story is an entry for the Literotica Earth Day contest. I hope you enjoy it and, if you do, please remember to vote!*

Joe hefted the metal cylinder and, for the first time in a long time, smiled. He knew the cylinder's contents were worth their weight in gold. Of course, a chemical analysis would still have to be done, but his instinct and experience told him he'd found what he'd been hunting for.

He opened his backpack, carefully placed the cylinder inside with the rest of his gear, and zipped it shut. As he slung it over his shoulders, he looked up at the gray, overcast sky and knew there were only a couple of hours of daylight left. He had to get out of the forest. Had to find a place where he could get a cell phone signal.

Joe knew that if he didn't get word of his discovery to his employer by tomorrow's noon deadline, the cylinder's precious contents wouldn't be worth their weight in mud.

A sound came from the brush on the game trail behind him, and he silently kneeled and wrapped his hand around his rifle. Still on one knee, he leveled the barrel as a figure emerged from the path.

A young woman, her dark hair in pigtails, limped toward him. Her eyes went wide with alarm when she saw the weapon aimed at her.

Joe blinked in surprise as he quickly lowered the gun. "God damnit, I thought you were a bear! What the hell are you doing way out here?"

She put her hand to her chest, trying to calm her pounding heart. "I'm hiking. You scared the shit out of me!"

Joe's eyes narrowed in suspicion. The girl had on hiking boots and a small backpack, but otherwise was only wearing a small pair of khaki shorts and a tight, baby blue t-shirt; far too little gear for her to be wandering, completely alone, this deep into the wilderness.

"Who are you with?" he said.

She took a sip from her water bottle, and said, "Me? No one, I'm hiking alone. I came in by the -- "

"No, I mean who are you with. What organization?"

"Huh?"

"You expect me to believe you just happened to stumble upon me in the middle of nowhere?" he said, and strode toward her.

She took a step backward, trying to balance on her good ankle. "Look, I think I'm lost. If you can just show me -- "

Joe reached out and grabbed her backpack strap, yanking it off her shoulder.

"Hey! What the fuck are you doing?" she said.

"Let's find out who you really are," he said, turning away to shield the backpack as she tried to grab it back.

He held out his elbows to fend her off as he tore open her pack, digging for her identification. And then he saw it, a metal cylinder just like the one in his own backpack. 

"Well, well," he said, "funny thing to take hiking."

"Leave that alone!" she cried, punching his back as she desperately tried to grab the cylinder.

He unscrewed the cap, and when he looked inside his face went pale. The contents weren't what he'd been expecting, but he immediately recognized them.

"Give that back," she cried, as she pulled it free from his hands, "that's my father!"

"I'm -- I'm so sorry," he said, as he watched her carefully screwing the cap back into place, making sure not to spill any of the ashes.

"Are you fucking crazy?" she said, tears streaming down her face as she carefully put the cylinder back into her backpack.

Joe wondered if he was. He'd only been back on the job for a month and he could already feel the old paranoia returning. "No, like I said...I'm sorry. The work I'm doing out here...it's very sensitive, and there are people who -- "

"I don't give a fuck what you're doing out here," she said. "Just show me what direction I take to get out of here."

"Get out?"

"Yeah...get out. That's what I was trying to ask you before you fucking attacked me. I'm lost...I hurt my fucking ankle...I just want to get out of here."

Joe went to help her put her backpack back on but she twisted away from him.

"Hey, it's cool," he said, holding his hands up to show he meant no harm. "I shouldn't have grabbed your pack like that...I've just been under a lot of pressure. I'm actually heading out now too, so if you want I can take you out with me. I'm Joe, by the way."

She hesitated, and then reluctantly nodded as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Okay...I'm Kailey."

"This way, Kailey," he said, and headed down the game trail.

He hadn't gone more than fifty feet when he looked back and saw her limping, trying to catch up to him. He walked back and said, "Put your arm around my shoulder, I can help support you while we walk."

She shook her head as she took a step back from him. "I'm okay. I'll keep up."

Joe knew the look in her eyes. She had the same fierce determination his daughter had. He knew she'd rather crawl back than admit she needed his help. He stepped off the path and found a large, fallen bough. He stepped on it to break off a four-foot length, and then stripped off the smaller branches. He leaned on it to test its strength, and when it didn't give he handed it to her.

"Thanks," Kailey said, and continued down the path using the walking stick for support.

They walked through the forest in silence until Joe finally broke it. "Is that why you're out here? To spread your father's ashes?"

She glanced up at him, wincing in pain as she stepped over a large root, and he could see the bitterness in her eyes. He knew she was still angry over what had happened earlier, but she finally answered him. 

"He said he wanted his ashes to be spread somewhere that made me think of him. And I remembered how he used to bring me here camping when I was little. But I got lost, and I didn't want to leave him somewhere that I'd never be able to find again."

Joe nodded in understanding. "Once we're back at the road I can drive you to your car. There are some clearings I saw on the way up that might be a nice place to spread the ashes. I can show you them if you want?"

Kailey agreed, and looked up when a tiny raindrop struck her cheek.

More raindrops struck the soft forest floor around them, and Joe stopped to pull out his rain gear. 

As he pulled it on, he saw Kailey just watching him, hugging herself to keep warm in her shorts and t-shirt. "Didn't you bring any rain gear?"

She shook her head no.

"You really shouldn't go hiking without being prepared for rain."

She gave him a patronizing smile, and said, "Thanks. I'll remember that for next time."

Joe looked up at the dark sky and knew it was going to be a wet one. He took his Gore-Tex jacket off and tried to hand it to her. "Here take mine."

She shook her head no.

"Please, take it. You'll get soaked without it."

The rain was coming down harder, and she squinted as the drops hit her face. But she still shook her head no, and said, "I don't want your jacket. I just want to get out of here."

Joe sighed as he put it back on and headed down the path. The forest was growing darker and the rain had become a downpour. He continually had to stop as he waited for her to catch up, soaked and limping behind him.

After an hour he checked his watch; they'd only gone half as far as he'd hoped. At this rate they'd never make it out of the woods by nightfall.

He shifted his backpack, feeling the weight of the cylinder inside, and checked his cell phone -- still no signal. 

He'd hoped to make his report tonight, hoped to confirm his findings. But he knew if he was up early enough he'd still have time to make it out to his truck by mid-morning. The deadline wasn't until noon.

"What's wrong?" she said, when he stopped in front of her.

"We're going to have to look for a place to camp tonight. With the speed you're going we won't be out before it's dark," he said.

"Camp? How are we supposed to camp?"

"I've got a small one-man tent and sleeping bag. You'll have to share them with me."

She laughed out loud. "There's no fucking way that's happening."

"Listen, I'm trying to help you," he said. "There's no way we'll be out before dark and we can't keep moving once night falls."

He had to shout so she could hear him over the rain, which had turned into a torrent. She was completely drenched and was shivering. Biting her lower lip as she tried to decide, she said, "What about the cabin?"

Joe wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly over the pounding rain. "What did you say?"

"When I was trying to find my way out I came across a cabin. Maybe we could spend the night there?"

"A cabin? Why didn't you go there for help in the first place?"

"It didn't look like anyone was there, and if someone was there...I didn't feel comfortable knocking on their door when I was all by myself. I figured if I kept going I might find a place where I could get reception on my cell phone and call for help."

"No cell phone reception out here," he said. "Can you find your way back to the cabin?"

"I think so." She limped past him and said, "Follow me."

* * *

Night was just falling when they finally reached the cabin, silhouetted in a clearing. The windows were dark and they hurried beneath the overhang to get out of the never-ending rain.

There was a note on the door and Joe pulled a small flashlight from his pocket to read it.

"What's it say?" she asked, as she tried to stop her teeth from chattering.

"It's from the owner. He says we're welcome to use the cabin, but to please leave it the way we found it."

She nodded in understanding as Joe pushed open the unlocked door.

He swept his flashlight around the single room and saw it was unoccupied. The only furnishings were a table, two chairs and a small bed. 

There was a lantern on the table and Joe quickly pumped the handle, turned the fuel valve and lit it with his lighter. As the mantle caught with a white-hot flame, light flooded the small cabin.

Joe adjusted the brightness and moved to the wood-burning stove. There was firewood, kindling and old newspapers stacked nearby and he soon had a fire going.

As he closed the cast iron door, he looked back and saw Kailey still standing, soaked and shivering, by the door. Her dark pigtails were dripping.

"You've got to get out of those wet clothes," Joe said.

She shook her head. "I don't have any dry ones, I'll just sit by the fire."

Joe reached in his backpack, careful not to disturb the cylinder, and pulled out his extra pair of thermal underwear and a dry fleece shirt. "Put these on," he said.

She shook her head again. "I'm fine."

He stepped toward her and held out the clothes. "You're not fine. You're freezing and you need to get warm. Put these on."

Before she could say another word he shoved the clothes into her arms and turned his back.

Joe had meant to give her some privacy, but as he looked up he realized he could see her reflection in the cabin's small window. Before he could say anything, she'd already pulled her wet t-shirt off.

He tried to look away. He was twice as old as Kailey and had a daughter about the same age, but he couldn't help watching as she unhooked her bra and slid it off, revealing her small, pert breasts.

He felt his cock stiffening as he watched her bend over, pushing her shorts and panties down. His eyes were drifting along the curve of her perfectly shaped ass when she suddenly glanced over to see if he was looking.

Joe quickly averted his eyes, staring at the bed and hoping she hadn't noticed him watching her reflection.

If she had noticed, she didn't say anything. And a few seconds later she told him he could turn around.

Joe was a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than Kailey's five-foot nothing, buck-ten frame, and his oversized clothes dwarfed her.

He fought back a smile and tried not to laugh as she posed for him with a smirk on her face. His long underwear hung baggily on her tiny frame and the legs were so long that they stretched over her bare feet like slippers. The sleeves on his fleece shirt dangled from the ends of her arms and he stepped forward and rolled them back until her slender hands peeked out.

"Is that better?" he said.

She nodded as she pulled up the oversized long johns, trying to keep them from sliding down, and said, "Thanks."

He turned to pick up her wet clothes but hesitated when he saw her soaked bra and panties.

Sensing his embarrassment, she scooped them up and hung them off the bedposts to dry, and then laid out her shirt and shorts on the floor in front of the wood stove. 

Joe didn't know why he was so embarrassed at seeing her panties. He regularly did his daughter's laundry and folded and put away her underwear all of the time.

He checked the shelves and found cooking utensils but no food. He filled a pot with water and set it on top of the wood stove to boil.

Fifteen minutes later he handed Kailey, who had her feet tucked underneath her as she kept warm on a chair in front of the wood stove, a steaming mug with a spoon in it.

"What's this?" she asked, taking a quick sniff.

"Instant chicken noodle soup," Joe said.

Kailey made a face. "Umm, I'm a vegetarian."

"Well, I'd be surprised if there's any meat in there. I think it's just bouillon. And it's all I had left in my pack -- it's either that or plain crackers."

She sniffed the soup again and took a small sip, and then a bigger sip.

"Good?" Joe asked.

Kailey glanced up and nodded yes, but as she went to take a third sip she spotted a white chunk floating on top and picked it out with her fingers and wiped it in disgust on the edge of the table. "Was that chicken?" she asked.

Joe answered, "They say it is, but I'm honestly not that sure."

She held the cup, enjoying the warmth in her hands. "Anyway, this is nice...thanks."

"Not a problem," he said, and sat in the other chair, sipping his soup while he watched the flames through the wood stove's grate. He glanced over at Kailey and noticed her necklace had a small frog for a charm.

"You like frogs?" he asked.

"Huh? I don't know, why? Is that what you're cooking next?"

He laughed. "No, I just noticed your necklace."

"Oh!" she said, blushing with embarrassment as she lifted the pendant to look at it. "Yeah, I guess, but that's not why I have this. My friend gave it to me. It's from an environmental thing called 'How to Boil a Frog'."

Joe's eyes narrowed. "You an environmentalist?"

"Me? No, not at all. I mean, I want to help the environment and stuff, of course, but I don't do all the things my friend does. He belongs to all these different groups...you know, save the planet, save the whales...that sort of stuff."

"He's your boyfriend?"

Kailey smiled and shook her head no. "We're just friends, he gave me the frog so I'd remember to recycle."

"What does recycling have to do with a frog? Is that like Woodsy Owl? You know, 'Give a hoot -- don't pollute'?"

Kailey laughed. "I have no idea what you're talking about, but the frog isn't just about recycling, it symbolizes what we're doing to Earth. We've got too many people using up too little planet, much too fast. 'How to boil a frog', is a metaphor for what we're doing to our planet, and to ourselves.

"It's like, if you want to cook a frog you don't put it in boiling water, it'll just hop out. You put it in cold water and then turn on the heat. The frog doesn't realize that the water is getting hotter until it's too late. And we're the same, with what we're doing to our planet, we won't realize the danger we're in until it's too late."

Joe smiled. "You remind me of my daughter. She's always telling me the same stuff. But I think we're getting better, you know, with recycling and stuff. I think our planet's going to be okay."

"Oh I know it will, it's not the planet that I worry about, it's us. Earth is still going to be around long after we're gone, just like in that movie Wall-E. It's humanity that's in trouble, not the planet."

Joe arched an eyebrow. "I thought you said you weren't an environmentalist. Anyway, I don't think it's quite as serious as you're making it sound, or that you need to be that worried. I'm a lot older than you, but I'm sure we'll both be long gone before anything like that ever happens."

"Probably, but I still think we should start taking steps now to try to stop it. I don't think it's fair for us to leave a mess for future generations to clean up," she said.

"I agree," he said, "but it isn't like your generation is the first to try. My parents were both hippies and they were fighting to save the planet way back before either of us were even born."

"Oh, that's so cool," Kailey said, and looked wistfully at her backpack. "My dad was kind of a hippie too."

Joe leaned over and grabbed her pack. Before Kailey could object, he reached in and pulled out the canister containing her father's ashes.

She jumped to her feet. "What are you doing with -- "

But then she stopped, and watched as Joe reverently placed the canister on a shelf above and behind the wood stove. "I thought your father might like to enjoy our shelter too," he said.

Kailey's eyes welled with tears, and she smiled. "He'd like that. He'd really like that."

Joe sat back down as she wiped a tear away with her sleeve, and leaned over and reached for her sore ankle. "Let's take a look," he said.

She quickly jerked her foot out of his reach and hugged her legs against her. "I'm fine."

"Oh, sure, I was only..." Joe shut up. He could only imagine what was going through her mind, trapped alone in this cabin with a man twice her age that she barely knew. 

He stood up and moved his chair a few inches farther away from hers. "Are you done with your soup?"

She nodded and handed him her empty mug.

After he put the dishes on the counter he sat back down and they were both silent as they watched the flames leap and listened to the firewood crackle inside the cast iron stove.

Joe watched as Kailey undid her pigtails, leaned over and combed her fingers through her silken black hair, which shone like obsidian. She saw him watching, and sat up and swept her long hair back over her shoulders. As he opened the grate to put some more wood on the fire, she said, "Thanks."

Joe glanced up at her and for the first time noticed the color of her eyes, a beautiful shade of jade. "For what?" he said.

"For, like, everything. The clothes, the soup...rescuing me." She listened to the rain drumming down on the cabin roof, and said, "I can't imagine where I'd be right now if I hadn't been lucky enough to find you out there."

"Glad to help," Joe said. "And I'm sorry again for the way I grabbed your backpack."

"Yeah, you did kind of freak me out a bit," she said.

"It's just with the job I do...you get kind of paranoid," he said.

"Your job? I thought you were out here hunting?"

"I'm hunting, but not for animals. The rifle's just for protection; I'm a geologist."

"So what are you hunting for, rocks?"

"Not rocks, coal."

Kailey blinked in surprise. "Coal?"

Joe nodded. "For a mine. There's a ridge near here and, if the samples I found today show what I think they're going to show, we'll be mining coal from it."

Her jaw dropped. "A mine? They're going to buy these woods and tear them up?"

"They don't have to buy them; they already own them. The company I work for has controlled the mineral rights for a while, but every geologist they've sent into this area has had their samples come back negative. The mineral rights expire at noon tomorrow and the company isn't sure if they should renew them or not. That's why they hired me. I've got a reputation for finding coal where others can't."

"And did you?" Kailey whispered. "Did you find coal?"

Joe nodded. "A huge seam. I don't know how no one else spotted it before."

Kailey tucked her feet underneath her and crossed her arms. "But...coal, why do we need coal? Can't people just use electricity?"

Joe smiled. "Where do you think the electricity comes from?"




How to Boil a Frog



"Umm...dams?"

"Well, in some places it does, but nearly half our power comes from coal."

"But my friend, he was telling me how dirty coal was, and what it's doing to our environment."

"Unfortunately, it's a necessary evil. Big cities need big power, and coal is cheap and plentiful."

"But why do we need so much energy?" Kailey asked.

Joe smiled and pointed his finger right at her. "When I was a kid there were six people in my house and we shared one TV and one phone. Now, every person in every home has their own TV, their own phone, their own computer, iPods, Xboxes, Playstations, DVD players...you name it!"

"Well, I don't need that stuff," she said. 

"You don't, but everybody else does. On the list of wants for most people your age, wanting to save our planet is right at the bottom."

She slumped forward with her head in her hands. "I know...I just wish there was a better way. Coal causes so much pollution."

"Yep, but it's the cheapest. And money's all that matters to most people."

"And what happens when the coal runs out?"

"I guess we'll have to find other alternatives for power."

"Then why aren't they doing it now?" Kailey said with a shrug. "If we know we're going to have to find alternatives anyway, why destroy our planet first -- let's find them sooner rather than later."

"Well, I'm sure they're looking, but in the meantime we need coal," he said.

"But coal...that's exactly what my friend warned me about. I didn't even realize he was talking about here, I thought he was talking in, like, third-world countries. He was saying how coal is causing catastrophic climate change, and then there's all the pollution and health problems it causes...like cancer."

As soon as she said the word a silence fell over the room. The wood popped in the fire as the rain fell outside, and Joe twisted his wedding ring as Kailey looked up at the canister on the shelf.

"That's what killed my dad...cancer," she said.

Joe crossed his arms, and said, "I'm sorry, but I doubt coal had anything to do with that."

"No, but I'll do whatever it takes to make sure that no one else has to go through what we went through."

"Kailey, I know what you and your dad went through -- "

"Do you?" she said. "If you did, I don't think you could do the job you do."

"Hey, don't start blaming me. It doesn't matter what either of us do -- it won't make a difference." 

Kailey blinked at him in disbelief. "So we just give up? We just sit by and watch the human race die?"

"We're not going to die from coal."

"Not just coal, but it's part of it. Global warming, overpopulation, pollution, corporations...can't you see it? We're the frog, and the planet's about to boil and we don't even realize it.

"You've got a daughter, don't you want to save the planet for her?"

"Why do you keep asking me if I want to save the planet? I'm just one man -- nothing I do is going to make any impact."

"But it would," she said.

"How?"

She reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing it. "You could start with these woods -- don't tell them about the coal, don't let them build a mine here."

Joe pulled his hand away. "Kailey, it's only one mine, and once the coal is gone the miners will be gone."

"When, in a hundred years? You know what they'll do, you know the damage and destruction that strip mining will do to these woods, slicing them open and bleeding them for coal. It's going to pollute the ground water, it's going to destroy the salmon streams and ruin the entire habitat for the wildlife when they cut down the trees.

"I mean, look around us. Look at this cabin, and the woods around it. It's so beautiful, so peaceful. But if you take those samples back, you'll be signing the forest's death warrant."

Joe sighed. "Kailey, this forest is beautiful, but there are others. The people I work with need to feed their families; they need these jobs and are counting on me to find more work for them. And I need the job too, I have a daughter to think of."

Kailey laughed bitterly. "You think this is good for your daughter? You think what you're doing is helping her future? Well it isn't -- it's destroying it! If you really loved her you'd -- "

Joe suddenly jumped up and his chair fell backward, slamming against the wooden floor.

"Don't ever say I don't love my daughter! You think I'm not worried about what the future has in store for her? Or for her children? That's why I'm doing this -- for her! I quit this business a year ago because I was sick of all the bullshit that goes on with the environmentalists, all the shit you're talking about. But I came back because I need the money to make sure she gets the education she needs.

"And you know why I'm doing that? Because I made a promise! You think you're the only person who has lost someone?" He tore open his shirt and Kailey shrank back as he thrust his hand close to her face, holding the gold ring on his necklace between his thumb and forefinger.

"This is my wife's wedding ring. And you know why I'm wearing it? Because she's dead. Cancer -- just like your dad. But before she died, I made her a promise. I promised her I'd take care of our daughter, and that's what I plan on doing! 

"Paying for my wife's care ate up every cent of our life savings, including the money we'd saved for our daughter's education. And knowing that...knowing that damned disease wasn't just going to take her life, but had taken her daughter's future too...that tore my wife apart. So I promised her, swore to her that I'd get the money back. And tomorrow morning I'm going to keep my promise. I'm marching out of these woods and phoning in my report. And the bonus I get is going to make sure my daughter gets the education she deserves, the one her mother always wanted her to have. I'm sorry I can't help you save the world, but I need to take care of my family first!"

Kailey watched him in stunned silence as he picked the chair up and slowly breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth as he tried to calm down.

"I'll be leaving at first light. I'm going to sleep now," he said.

He crawled into his sleeping bag on the floor and turned so that he was facing the bed, with his back toward Kailey. She quietly got up and turned off the lantern. The only light in the cabin was the soft glow from the embers in the wood stove.

Joe heard the bed creak as she stepped over him and crawled beneath the blankets, and he rolled over onto his back, feeling the weight of his wife's wedding ring on his chest and the weight of a tear rolling down his cheek.

He wasn't sure how long he'd lain there when he heard Kailey's voice whisper, "Are you asleep?"

He looked up and saw the silhouette of her head looking down at him. He waited a moment before whispering, "No."

She reached down and felt for his hand. When she found it she squeezed it. "I'm sorry for what I said. I never should have said you didn't love your daughter. And I'm sorry about your wife." 

Joe nodded and wiped away a tear with his other hand. "Thanks," he whispered, and squeezed her hand back. But when he went to let it go she held on.

"Come sleep in the bed," she whispered.

"I'm okay down here," he said.

"It's cold on the floor. You'll be warmer in the bed."

"I'm fine, my sleeping bag is -- "

"Joe, get in the bed."

He lay there for a few moments, thinking, and then he finally stood up and she lifted the blanket and slid over to make room. The bed was small, barely a twin.

As he climbed in and pulled the blanket over him, she turned her back to him and he could feel her bum against his hip.

He laid on his back beside her, this girl half his age, listening to the rain drumming off the roof. The embers in the wood stove were burning low and the cabin was nearly dark.

She shifted beside him, trying to get comfortable on the small bed, and he shifted toward the edge to make more room for her. But she reached over with her hand and put it on his leg to let him know he didn't need to move.

"There'll be more room if you sleep on your side," she whispered.

He went to turn onto his side so he'd be facing away from her, but she stopped him.

"I meant the other way," she whispered.

Joe turned, facing her, uncertain of what to do as he lay behind her, carefully trying to avoid touching her. But she snuggled back against him, and he felt her warmth.

He tentatively wrapped his arm around her waist and she took it, sighing as she pulled it tightly against herself.

Joe's senses reeled. He hadn't been with a woman or even thought about one since his wife had died six months earlier.

And now he had this beautiful twenty-year-old curled up in front of him. He could smell the cleanness of her skin and hair and felt her soft, supple curves as they pressed against him. He listened to the soft rhythm of her breathing and wondered if she was already asleep.

She seemed so small in front of him, with his strong arm pinning her protectively against his body. Only a thin layer of cotton separated them, and he could feel the soft coolness of her ass seated against his crotch.

He tried to move back but she tightened her grip on his arm, keeping it close to her.

Joe tried to think of other things...coal, mathematical formulas; he even tried to recite the periodical table in his head. But it wasn't working.

He felt his cock thickening against the smooth curve of her ass, and he didn't dare move in case the feel of it rubbing against her soft skin made him grow harder. But it didn't matter; he was soon completely erect.

She shifted against him in her sleep, rubbing her bum against his stiff shaft, and she froze. He went to move back and she squeezed his arm, keeping him against her.

The rhythm of her breathing had changed, and he knew she was awake. He shifted his hip trying to get some space between them, but she pressed her butt back against him.

And slowly, ever so slowly, rolled her hips, grinding her ass against his hard length.

"Kailey," he whispered.

She answered him by taking his arm and sliding it up beneath her shirt until his hand was cupping her soft breast.

Joe squeezed it, and groaned as he ground his cock against her ass.

Kailey sighed as he tweaked her erect nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and planted soft kisses behind her ear and down her neck.

She twisted around and put her hand behind Joe's head, pulling him close until their lips met.

He kissed her long and hard, their tongues locked together as their hands explored each other's bodies, his hand caressing her firm ass while her hand slid down the front of his underwear.

She sighed as her fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, feeling its heat. She slowly stroked her hand up and down, savoring his size and hardness as it slid against her palm.

Joe groaned as she rubbed his cock, and kissed her even harder.

But she broke the kiss with a gasp, and the smoldering glow from the wood stove was reflected in her eyes as she slid down his body.

She pulled his long johns down just far enough to free his swollen cock, and she slid her tongue down its length and gently lolled it against his full balls. She loved the taste as she slid her tongue back up his hot flesh and flicked a drop of pre-cum from the tip.

Joe ran his fingers through her silky smooth hair, and groaned as her mouth enveloped him. He could feel the heat as she worked her soft lips halfway down his rock-hard shaft, and then slid them up again.

He listened to the wet noises she made as she sucked his cock, and when he put his hand behind her head she tried to get as much of him in her mouth as she could. And he felt the heat of her throat as his shaft slid down it.

She pulled him out with a gasp, tried to catch her breath, and then attacked his cock with her mouth again.

Joe groaned, and reached down to squeeze her ass as she bobbed up and down on his swollen shaft. He slid his hand down the back of her long johns and, without stopping sucking, she pushed them down around her knees to give him full access. When his fingers dipped between her legs and started to explore her pussy, she moaned around his thick cock.

Joe was amazed at how tight and how tender she felt, as he gently played with her wet lips and slid his finger down, searching for her clit.

When he found it he lightly circled his finger against it, feeling her twitch beneath his touch.

She pulled her mouth off his cock and pumped it a few times. "Oh fuck, that feels good," she whispered.

She went to suck him again but he stopped her. He pulled her up so her head was resting against the headboard, and then he slid down between her legs.

Kailey gasped at the first flick of his tongue and then sighed, loving the feel of his strong arms wrapped around her thighs, keeping her legs spread.

Joe lapped at her delicate pussy, amazed at how sweet she tasted. And he planted soft kisses on the inside of her thighs as he worked his way toward her clit.

She gasped as soon as his tongue touched it, and as he teased it she grabbed him by his hair, holding him in place as she ground her pussy against his mouth, making sure he hit all the right spots.

Kailey arched her back, her nipples erect, moaning as he pushed her closer and closer to the edge. And when he finally drove her over she tried to clamp her legs shut, but Joe wouldn't let her. His strong arms forced them apart and he kept teasing her pussy with his tongue as she cried out in pleasure, thrashing her head back and forth as she came over and over.

"Oh fuck, I can't take anymore," she begged, trying to push his head away. And when he finally relented she collapsed on the bed, her head tilted back as she tried to catch her breath.

He moved on top of her and pressed his mouth against hers. She could taste her juices on his tongue as he explored her mouth, and she whimpered when his hard cock brushed against her clit.

Kailey looked between her legs and saw his thick shaft aimed at her tiny hole. She reached down and grabbed it, rubbing his knob back and forth against her slit until it was slick.

And then she lined his cock up with her opening and put her hand behind Joe's hip, pulling him forward. She moaned as she felt him parting her swollen pussy lips, and as he slid inside her she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close.

Joe kissed her again, gently this time, and savored the feel of her as she enveloped his shaft. Once he was completely inside her, he waited a moment, letting her get used to his size. She was incredibly tight and he knew he was stretching her wide.

The rain had stopped outside, but he could hear a heartbeat thumping and wasn't sure if it was his or hers or both of theirs in tandem. He slowly started to stroke his cock in and out with long, gentle thrusts.

By the faint glow from the wood stove he could see Kailey's face; her head was tilted back and her mouth was open while her eyes were shut. She was in a state of bliss, and her ecstasy was etched on her features.

Joe looked down and saw his wife's wedding ring swinging back and forth on his necklace as he fucked the twenty-year-old sprawled beneath him.

He grabbed the ring and clenched it gently between his teeth, holding it there as he kept stroking his cock in and out of Kailey. But as he felt the smooth band with his tongue, he squeezed his eyes shut and couldn't help thinking about his wife.

Kailey opened her eyes and looked up. One of Joe's tears had fallen and landed on her breast. She put her hand to his chest, felt his heartbeat, and whispered, "Are you okay?"

Joe opened his eyes, and gazed at Kailey through his tears. And in that instant he remembered the other promise he'd made to his wife. When he'd held her hand in her hospital bed and she'd made him swear that after she was gone he'd move on, that he'd find someone else.

The ring tumbled from his mouth and stopped, suspended between them. He nodded at Kailey, and said, "I'm okay," sniffling as he brushed the tears from his cheeks.

"Want me to turn around?" she asked.

Joe nodded and moved back as Kailey got on all fours in front of him.

He moved behind her and she groaned as he sheathed his thick cock in her tight pussy once again. He held her hips as he slowly started to fuck her, and she gently bit her lower lip as she bounced on his cock.

The old bed creaked as it rocked back and forth.

"This bed might break," Joe said, as he pumped his cock in and out of her.

"Who cares?" she moaned, as she braced herself against the headboard and slammed herself back and forth, impaling herself on his thick shaft.

Joe had stopped pumping, and just watched Kailey's beautiful ass bouncing against his hips as she humped back and forth on his cock, driving herself to another orgasm.

She groaned as it rolled over her like a tidal wave and then slumped to the mattress, completely exhausted. "Holy fuck, Joe," she gasped, "I can't take much more...please hurry up and come."

"Sure, babe." Kailey was lying completely flat on the mattress, face down with her legs spread, and he was above her in the prone position. She moaned as he fucked her with long strokes, but as he picked up the pace they became shorter and shorter.

Her ass was bouncing off the bed and she was frantically clutching the sheets as he pistoned his thick cock in and out of her. Finally, he groaned, "I'm gonna come."

"Come on my back," she gasped.

And he did. He whipped his cock out of her soaked pussy and fired a thick shot of cum that landed halfway up her back, the second shot landed in the small of her back and the rest rained lightly on her beautiful ass.

"Oh, wow," she gasped, feeling the hot liquid on her cool skin. "That's a lot of cum."

"Uh huh," Joe gasped as he sprawled, completely exhausted, beside her. "It's been a while."

Kailey glanced over at him and saw his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. And resting on his chest was his wife's wedding ring.

She leaned over, careful not to let any of the mess on her back spill off onto the mussed-up blankets, and softly kissed the ring. And then she kissed Joe.

* * *

When he woke up the next morning the first thing he did was reach out to Kailey's side of the bed, only to discover it was empty.

Last night felt like it had been a beautiful dream, but he smiled as he stretched and looked up at the bedposts where her bra and panties were still hanging. And then he noticed the long underwear and shirt he'd lent her bunched up at the foot of the bed. The cabin door was open and sunshine and fresh air were streaming through.

Joe pulled on his long johns, walked sleepily through the open door and did a double take; Kailey was bending over fifteen feet in front of him, doing yoga completely naked in the morning sun.

"Hey, sleepyhead," she said, smiling back at him through her legs.

"Do you always do that completely naked?"

"Why not? We're part of nature, so why not be natural?" She stretched, smiling as she felt the warmth of the sun's rays against her skin while morning mist wandered through the shade of the trees. "There's a river near here, want to go for a dip?"

He laughed. "Are you crazy? That river's glacier fed; you'll catch pneumonia."

"Wimp," she said, as she walked up the stairs and wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her back, and as she explored his skin with her fingers and played with his chest hair, she said, "I was actually hoping you'd be naked too, so we could really enjoy the outdoors this morning, if you know what I mean."

Joe kissed her softly on the top of her head as his rough hands felt the smoothness of her back and shoulders. "You're amazing," he said, "but we really need to get going."

"No, we can't leave yet," she whispered, as she locked her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his chest.




How to Boil a Frog



"We have to, it's nearly -- "

She rubbed herself against him and felt his cock stiffening in response. "Mmm," she purred. "I don't want to leave until we break that bed."

Joe laughed. "The sign on the door said not to break anything."

"I'll leave him money to buy a new one."

Joe checked his watch; they did have a little extra time. "We'll have to make it quick, let me start the coffee first."

"Yay! I'm just going to go down to the river to wash up, I'll be right back." 

Joe watched her as she headed off naked through the trees. She glanced back over her shoulder, and when she saw him watching she wiggled her bum teasingly.

As she disappeared from sight, Joe closed his eyes and drank deeply of the piercingly fresh forest air. He savored its cool cleanness and listened to the sounds of the woods around him; the whisper of the wind through the trees and the soft whistle of the whiskey jacks as they searched for their morning meal. He could hear the river she'd mentioned in the distance and imagined it's clean, white waters tumbling over boulders that had sat undisturbed for millennia.

Joe went back inside the cabin and put his backpack on the table to get out his instant coffee. As he reached his hand inside the pack and touched the cool metal soil sample cylinder, he stopped.

He looked around the cozy cabin at the cast iron stove that had kept them warm last night and the small bed where they'd slept together, and smiled at the memory. And then he spotted Kailey's father's urn, still sitting on the shelf where he'd left it.

He walked over and nodded to it. "Morning. Kailey never told me your name, but I'm Joe. I just wanted to tell you that I think your daughter's beautiful and that you did a great job raising her. If the rest of this generation is anything like her, I think our planet's in pretty good hands."

He went back to his bag, pulled out the soil sample cylinder and smiled. Minutes later, Kailey appeared through the trees.

She was rubbing her arms trying to stay warm as she hurried back to the warmth of the bed, and her skin was covered in goose bumps from the dip she'd just taken in the icy river. She had a grin from ear to ear as she raced naked through the trees, and she saw Joe waiting for her with the cylinder in his hands.

As she hurried up the porch steps, he wrapped his arms around her and tried to warm her up.

"You're freezing!" he said.

"The river was really c-c-cold...it was fantastic!"

"Well, let's get you back into bed and warm you up," he said.

She eagerly nodded.

"And after that, maybe we can go for a walk and find somewhere nice near here to spread your father's ashes," he said.

She shivered as she looked up at him and the smile disappeared from her face. "I don't want to leave him here, not now. I don't want him to see what's going to happen to these woods when your company comes."

Joe gently stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "They won't be coming."

She blinked in surprise, not sure she'd heard him right. "What do you mean?"

"I destroyed the sample and grabbed a new one from the side of the cabin. They won't be mining any coal here. Not if I can help it."

Tears of joy streamed down Kailey's face as she crushed Joe with a hug and pressed her lips against his. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Thank you," he said, "now let's get you back in bed where it's warm."

She hustled back into the cabin. "If we're staying, should I make a fire?"

"Sounds good," he said, and went to straighten the bed and fold the clothes she'd left crumpled up at the end.

And as he was folding them he spotted it -- the edge of a picture frame peeking out from between the bed and the wall.

He pulled out an old framed photograph, and as soon as he looked at it he realized he knew the man in the picture. He also recognized the girl.

Kailey had loaded the wood stove with some old newspaper, kindling and wood. "Joe, where's your lighter? I need it to -- "

As soon as she saw what he was holding, she fell silent.

"You're Wayne Smith's daughter?" he said.

Kailey sheepishly nodded yes.

Joe stared at the picture. Kailey couldn't have been more than ten years old as she held her father's hand, proudly standing in front of this very cabin. "And this place? It's yours?"

A tear rolled down Kailey's cheek as she forced a smile and nodded again.

Joe stared at the picture, stunned. Wayne Smith was one of the leading environmentalists against coal. For years he'd been battling the company Joe worked for. But he'd died over three months ago from the cancer he'd claimed coal mining had given him. And then Joe realized what had happened.

"When you ran into me yesterday...that wasn't an accident. It was all planned...everything, the ankle, the cabin, the -- 

"Oh my god," he whispered, "I'm the frog."

"What?" Kailey said.

"I'm the frog, aren't I? Everything that happened between us last night...I'm the frog, and you were boiling me. Turning the heat on so slow I didn't even realize what was happening. All just to stop me from turning in my findings on time."

She put her hand on his arm and shook her head. "It wasn't like that, Joe."

"Please, Kailey," he said, pulling his arm away. "Look at you and look at me. You're so young and I'm so...old. When you took me in that bed last night it was for one reason and one reason only -- hoping I'd destroy the samples. And your plan worked, you turned on the heat so smoothly I never knew what was happening."

Kailey grabbed his hand with both of hers and squeezed it, refusing to let go when he tried to pull away again. "Joe, when my dad was alive he was the one who protected these woods. He had a friend at the company you work for who made sure the samples they found here always came back negative. And it was that friend who told me you were coming out here. And I did follow you into the woods to lure you back here. And I did lie about my ankle; it's fine. But I brought you back here to talk, that's all. I just wanted a chance to try to convince you not to let them destroy this forest. This cabin is mine, but the woods aren't. No matter what a piece of paper says, they belong to everyone, not some mining company. But what happened last night...between you and me -- that was something else. That was special."

Joe rolled his eyes. "Don't try getting me back in the pot again."

"Please, Joe. Just like you made a promise to your wife, I made a promise to my dad. I promised him I'd do anything I could to save these woods. But not that. I'd sacrifice almost anything to protect this place, but I draw the line at sacrificing my self respect. You and me last night? That was real.

"And I know you. I know you wouldn't destroy those samples just because we'd slept together. Was it really something as simple as sex that made you want to give it all up? I know it wasn't Joe; you did it because of what you saw outside...the trees, the birds, the river. And you did it because of something you saw inside...inside of you, Joe, that told you what you were doing was right. 

"You promised your wife you'd take care of your daughter's future, and when you destroyed that sample, you kept your promise."

Joe sat on the edge of the bed, and as he hid his head in his hands, the tears flowed.

Kailey sat beside him and he sobbed when she hugged him.

He looked up with red eyes and wiped his tears with his sleeve. "You're right. It was my decision, and mine only. And it was right. No matter what happened last night or what happens in the future, it was right.

"I never even wanted to go back to this, I was only doing it for my daughter. But there's other ways. Other companies I can work for."

He stood up and said, "Let's get dressed. I'll take you back to the road."

Kailey smiled. "I don't need you to lead me, Joe. I've walked these woods a thousand times."

"Oh...okay. Well, I should get going then," he said.

She squeezed his hand. "Don't go yet. I missed the picture that you found, but when I hid the rest of them I also hid the food, it's all in a cache nearby. There's more than enough for us to stay here for another few days."

Joe sniffed, and said, "Why?"

Kailey wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on her tiptoes as she kissed him. "Because I still want to break that bed."

* * *

Author's note: Thanks for taking the time to read my short story, and I hope you enjoyed it. As previously mentioned, it's an entry for the Earth Day contest and any votes or comments are greatly appreciated. And finally, don't wait for Earth Day to show your love for our beautiful planet -- show it every day! ~ Seanathon 



How to Break a Bad Rabbit



SMOKEY SAGAS #11:

"How To Break A Bad Rabbit"

***

Well, I did one for Christmas in December ('13), so though at the time of writing and publishing this it's still a bit early for it, here's my little BDSM homage to Easter. Again, thank you, Wired Pussy, thank you, Whipped Ass. You having provided me with virtually all of its inspiration, this story (also) is dedicated with love especially to you two Kink divisions. Not least but last, there are several similarities between this and "Hell And Back" (part one)—however, this one DOES actually have a happy ending. Still, these dark ones just keep getting more and more wicked and perverse...I guess I have a pretty effed-up imagination. Therefore, once more, as with the other "sinistories," proceed at your own risk, Beloved Reader(s).

***

March 24th, 4:25 p.m.

In the heart of downtown it was hustle and bustle. A typical weekday afternoon. Streets were jammed, filling their air with exhaust and impatient horn-honking. Off the pavement, the concrete was just as occupied with folks on foot. The city was populated with individuals of all kinds, from all walks of life, belonging to all sorts of different occupations.

This totality was exemplified for one by the activity of two people who dwelled in the left ventricle of downtown's aforementioned heart, comprising a husband-and-wife swinger couple: Lou and Sandra Burton. Both in their late 30s, they'd been together for about fifteen years. Their shared life was something of a mystery to casual acquaintances—a mystery which also served as the reason they were so choosy with whom they allowed into their small circle of friends.

Lou and Sandy made a very nice living and kept home in a very nice residential dwelling, the affordability of which was supplied by this same mystery of theirs. It was the reason they kept something of a low profile regarding their rather lavish arrangements of home and living. By late morning and afternoon, Lou worked on wait staff at a restaurant, and Sandy was an on-commission department store salesperson. Given these professions, lined up with the state of said living arrangements—even as a two-income couple—it could be seen how one was baffled by their situation.

This was of course where their previously referred-to mystery—and swinger lifestyle—came spiraling into play. Their later hours of sleep and operation were a result of their supplemental mutual career, and their major source of income on the sly. They managed an organization of pornography and BDSM together. Its name, The Fetish Buffet, was Sandra's idea—a gimmicky identity designed to encapsulate the wide span of sexual interests and kinks in which they engaged and specialized (she was originally going to call it "Buffetish," an amalgamated name she liked the thought of until she said it out loud and realized how clumsy it sounded). They produced video presentations based on their session content and scenarios, and ran a web site to give online users a preview of these videos, the option to purchase them, and also web pages giving an overview of their enterprise and introducing visitors to themselves and their models. While they both participated and featured in their projects as performers themselves, on the whole Lou was more of the cinematographer, leaving the better part of actual performance to his wife, as while Sandy herself would be a bit too modest to agree, Lou insisted she provided a much, much more appealing camera presence, given their medium and chosen line of material.

They started out renting a warehouse space to use as their private studio for session shoots and videotaping, then once they started doing well enough, they scaled up and obtained themselves a two-story house, in which they turned the generously spacious basement into their studio. A number of years under the belt in their ever-growing BDSMpire, they had since recruited quite an accumulation of attractive male and female models and erotic actors, of several different age groups, ethnicities and backgrounds. As for their own histories, Lou had taken a few film school courses, Sandy's academic experience more in the area of psychology—a helpful combination in fields involving the erotic cinematic arts, as with Lou's camera and composition skills and Sandra's acumen of visual(/audial) appeal to the human senses, they managed to co-direct and edit decently successful films.

Ads were placed for actors and models to add to their payroll, but actually quite a good little portion of their applicants and participants were candidly met and selected right on the street. Lou or Sandy would be out and about, see someone who looked like a cute potential new colleague/plaything, simply approach and introduce themselves. Sometimes the potential candidate accepted their invite, sometimes not. It was truly hit-and-miss, they quickly learned. They approached more folks on the street than responses they got to their ads overall, but the percentages were also better to make a connection via an ad, so the two methods came out to about 50-50 in terms of successful encounters.

On this typical Thursday afternoon, it was Sandra who was out scouting for any new possible talent to add to their roster. She was combing the northern face of downtown, currently on 18th Avenue and Juniper Street (Juniper was a major highway that covered virtually the entire city, north to south. Its intersection with 18th was in a much more secure and upper-class region of town than other intersections with Juniper such as, say, Double-T Street, or Kent Street, or Lumbard Street, intersections closer to where Lou and Sandy used to live). For their latest video venture, they were looking for a timely concept and an equally tasty piece of female eye candy. Easter was right around the corner, on April 3rd, and so, natch, they wanted a new "bunny."

Actually, when it came to finding new talent, upon decision-making time, it was indeed Sandy who did most of the approaching. They determined jointly that persuasion to appear in an adult-themed film production would be accomplished much more effectively (and easily) by a woman, be the possible candidate either male or female. Besides, she had the better understanding of the human mind. However, both halves of the marriage were by chance bisexual, both with eyes equipped to catch sight of attractive specimens of either sex. And Lou also scouted occasionally, if Sandy was already out and they were more hard-pressed to find performers—and he'd managed to bring one or two amateur stars onboard in their several years—but overall, it still remained Sandy's territory.

Understandably, some days they did better than others. It was important to keep note of where they'd scouted already, but just to a certain extent, as the chances of finding performers at a location they'd looked for the second time were only slightly reduced. Luckily, as expansively large as the city was—especially the downtown district thereof—years would pass before they'd hit every nook and cranny twice. Rounding 18th and Juniper, Sandra had entered a corner of the main business borough, where she and the other citizens shrank into the labyrinth of seemingly limitless office buildings and skyscrapers piercing the blue spring sky at hundreds of feet tall.

A cool breeze tousled her hair and kissed her face. The vernal equinox had just descended a few days ago, and spring was literally in the air. Statistically speaking, summer was their best season for finding new talent, as the population on the average bared more skin, thereby displaying more of their physical...assets, for prying eyes to be laid upon. But spring was a close second. She wasn't too far right now from the mall where she worked. She'd driven dozens of times by this enormous building around which she was now wandering, the Klondike Complex, but had never traversed its lovely landscape to thoroughly take in all the niceties of its grounds. Looking around, she gazed upon a pedicured, checkerboard-patterned lawn stretching around the whole environment, decorated with outdoor umbrella'd dining tables and chairs, bicycle paths, rock gardens, running streams, fountains, tennis courts, even a...she squinted off into the distance. Was that...a swimming pool?

Wow, people who get to work here are really lucky, she thought to herself. She could only imagine the amenities on the interior of the Klondike office suites. They probably have a four-star café in there somewhere, and I have to choose between Arby's and Panda Express at the food court, she thought, shaking her head with a smirk.

Well, time to get down to business. Sandy slipped on her sunglasses to conceal her predatory eyes, and began people-watching as they went about their business. It didn't take her long to see they were mostly wearing business suits, the men also with neckties. Hardly surprising; an upscale building and work atmosphere commanded upscale dress attire. She smiled as she imagined the thought of getting her mitts on one of these savvy, no-nonsense professionals in their expensive suits—or, should she say, out of their expensive suits—bending them over, "branding" them, in her own special way, and "marking her territory" on them.

There was indeed a healthy amount of both male and female eye candy to be found here. Reminding herself they were specifically looking for a young lady at the moment, she checked out one to the next, confident in what she was seeing. Nice...nice...ooh, QUITE nice...cute...also nice and cute...HOT... she thought, giving each one she saw a quick once-over and a brief evaluation before settling on any one individual like the vulture she was at this moment, surreptitiously treading the property. She didn't worry in the least about anybody asking her what she was doing here. She was good at thinking on her feet and manipulating people, and could satisfy anyone's curiosity by readily supplying a fake name, with a fake story and a fake occupation explaining her presence. If she was in a particularly playful mood, she'd even add a fake accent. The occasions in which someone did ask were few and far between anyway.

More and more of the day's hours had elapsed, until it was close to 4:30 in the afternoon. Inconspicuously slipping around one suite to the next, she had made her way around more than half of them by the time she finally found her girl. She didn't even have to look twice. Her eyes locked and zeroed in on her. Sitting in a chair at one of the umbrella tables, she was an auburn-haired young thing in a black lady's pantsuit, doing what looked like texting on her phone. Her shoes were overturned on the grass, her bare feet up on the seat of another of the chairs, legs crossed one over the other, idly wiggling her toes. She may not have been classically model-gorgeous, but something sweet and pleasing about her attracted Sandra. The candid footplay was just a delightful bonus.

Sandra smiled, heading in her direction. As she neared her, she noticed something else. The girl looked kind of...upset. Her face seemed to be reflecting a mixture of anguish and disappointment. Naturally, Sandy briefly wondered what was wrong. Whatever it was, Well, perhaps I could cheer her up a little, she thought, sauntering the rest of the way on up.

At about the same time the girl noticed her shadow and looked up, Sandra merrily smiled and said, "Hi there!" This smile was genuinely kind and friendly, though it was difficult to discern a pleasant smile from a ruthless one with her Aviator sunglasses on.

The girl paused, looking at her blankly for a moment. "Uh...hello," she replied uncertainly.

"How do you do?" asked Sandy cordially. "My name is Sandra Burton."

Still with a vacant gaze in her eyes, the girl again remained silent for a moment. "...Well hi...Sandra," she said. "I'm Heather..." She let the tone of her voice hang, as if she was going to continue speaking, but let it trail off. She held onto her phone. She didn't exactly offer her hand, and so Sandra didn't extend hers just yet either.

When she realized that's all the girl was having for the moment, Sandy continued, "Okay, well, it's lovely to meet you, Heather." She gestured to one of the empty chairs at her table. "I, um...I know this may sound a little strange, or forward, but, do you mind if I join you?" she asked. "Unless of course you have to be running off somewhere; I don't want to keep you." Okay, that's kind of a lie, but she doesn't need to know that, she said to herself.

Heather seemed to be upset by some part of what Sandra had just said. She dropped her eyes and emitted a small sigh.

"Wh-..." Sandra hoped she didn't hurt her feelings somehow. "Oh, I'm...I'm sorry, did I...did I say something wrong?" She'd thought up to this point that the extent of their exchange was polite, friendly pleasantries.

Heather shook herself out of it. "Oh, no, no," she perked back up, looking at Sandra. "No, uh...it's fine. Go ahead." She indicated the unoccupied chair where Sandy had just gesticulated. "Sit down if you want. I don't care."

Hmm, thought Sandy. She was getting the impression something was bothering the lass, but she didn't want to pry. She decided to simply employ her tactics of easing into her mind. "Well, thank you, Heather," she graciously rejoined, pulling out the chair to accompany her. "So then...do you, uh...have a few moments free?" she gently asked.

"Sure, why the hell not," answered Heather gloomily.

My goodness, something really IS bothering you, isn't it, Sandy thought. "Well...I...I really do hope I'm not pestering you, or being a nuisance in any way," she reiterated.

Heather put her phone down on the table, slightly forcefully for a not-so-frivolous electronic device. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm being rude. I-I'm just..." She covered her face with her hand. "This has just been kind of...well, a...crap day."

So she was right, Sandra regretfully realized. "Oh, dear," she said, "I'm so sad to hear that. Well, we just met; you probably don't want to talk to a virtually total stranger about it," she went on, hoping her reverse psychology would work.

It did. "Ah, who knows, might help to get it off my chest," Heather said. "My boyfriend dumped me."

Her face dropped. "Aw," Sandy said. "I'm sorry, Heather. That's really tough."

"No shit," muttered Heather. "Oh—'scuse my dirty mouth. He cheated on me."

Sandra turned surprised. "You're kidding me! He cheated on you, and he dumped YOU? That's horrible!"

"Yeah, well, much as I'd like to throw all the blame on him, I can't," admitted Heather. "I cheated on him too."

Sandra's eyebrows arched. "Oh," she replied in a quieter voice. "Well, forgive me for sticking my big proboscis where it doesn't belong, but perhaps it wasn't exactly a Heaven-made match."

"No foolin' you," Heather said with a dash of feistiness in her voice. "I mean, we got into this huge fight, it got ugly, and he said some stuff that really hurt me. And I wanted to get even with him, so I fucked one of his friends, right? So when he finds out, he freaks on me. He calls me a whore, says he never wants to see me again, next thing you know I find out he was making out with some other chick behind my back. You believe that?" She shook her head with a scoff.

Sandra was having a little trouble processing this. She was sure Heather's feelings had indeed been quite hurt, but describing having had sex with another man—if she was in fact understanding the girl correctly—her tone sounded pretty matter-of-fact, as if it were no big deal. "But..." she said, "If y-...how d-..." After another second she shrugged it off. "Y'know what, never mind that. Why don't I tell you why I wanted to come over and talk to you. I know this is gonna sound very random, but let me ask you if I may, Heather..." she took a strategic pause. "Have you by chance ever done any work in the field of modeling before?"

Heather raised her gaze to her with a skeptical expression. "You...think I'm a model?" she asked with a caustic chuckle.

"Well, I'm just asking right now," explained Sandra. "You see, my husband and I run a small film company, we do a lot of...what you might call documentary work, and we're always looking for fresh, new faces. And being young is also a plus. And while I was around the area today, something about you happened to catch my eye."

Heather took a moment to just stare at her. Then she looked around to her left and right as if she thought Sandy was talking to someone else. Finally, she pointed to herself and dubiously said, "...Me?"

"Yes, indeed!" Sandy confirmed. "Certainly someone finding appeal in your facial features and the structure of your physicality can't be the most wildly mind-blowing thought in the world?"

Actually, her bared feet on display helped very much. They were quite lovely, Sandra thought. Not too wide, not too flat, nice soft-looking soles, the curve of the instep from the fair skin tone of the tops to the tender-looking pink bottoms, the clear toenail polish...she kept coercing herself to maintain eye contact with Heather while sneaking glimpses at her petite tootsies, which she was guessing were about a size 7. She was absentmindedly flexing them, stretching them out and scrunching them, curling them up, back and forth, over and over again. And the fact that Heather was wearing dress pants as part of her business attire, baring no leg, just isolating the feet, made them even more enticing.

She wondered how ticklish they were. She wanted to find out, if only to try and get the girl to smile one time. Lou would love those babies, she thought, her husband very appreciative of a pretty couple of peds. Sandy had let him do everything to her feet: rub them, lick them, nibble them, tickle them, et cetera, and also worked her feet into some of their more hard-core activities. Though she'd never admit it, on both of her own soles Sandy had an extreme weak spot, just below the arches. Once that spot was activated—on either foot—she was melted putty in the hands of the activator.

Though she didn't know if it was in her case officially a fetish, per se, Sandra's shared fondness for the sensuality of the human feet was the reason she made Lou be certain to take good care of his own—washing them, lotioning them, keeping the nails clipped nice and short—and she took them out to get semi-regular pedicures together, so that later she could enjoy returning the kindness of the massaging, licking, nibbling, et cetera.

Heather, meanwhile, was answering her question. "Well, considering what an ugly fucking duckling I was growing up and how the boys always went after the pretty girls and the cheerleaders, and that it's not that dramatically different at 25, you'll forgive me if I DO find that a little hard to believe," Heather groused while Sandra wondered if there were any weak spots on her feet.

"Well, that's unfortunate to hear, but perhaps I can convince you otherwise by inviting you for an interview with us? Say, next Wednesday?" she proposed, pretty sure this was a day both she and Lou were off. "Early, mid- or late afternoon could all work."

Heather gazed at her cynically. She flipped her feet up from the chair and dropped them on the fortunately soft grass so she could shift position, put her elbow on the table and prop up her chin with it. "All right, what's the deal, lady?" she asked Sandra suspiciously. "What's really going on here?"

Okay, this is a tough cookie, Sandy thought. But she didn't allow herself to be rattled. She picked up her purse, opened it and took a business card from one of the mini-compartments. "Well, Heather," she began as she did so, "If you're having doubts about me or my husband being on the proverbial level, so to speak, I assure you that everything about our operation is legitimate..."




How to Break a Bad Rabbit



She handed it to her to have a look at. The business cards were innocuously printed up to read:

BURTON PRODUCTIONS & TALENT, INC.

LOUIS OLIVER BURTON

SANDRA ARIANA BURTON

6307 WEST RICHGATE STREET

FOR LOUIS: 555-4789

FOR SANDRA: 555-0182

BURTON@BURTON-----.ORG

CONTACT US TO SCHEDULE AN INTERVIEW OR SESSION

MODELING, ACTING, FILM WORK

CONVENTIONAL AND EXOTIC

Lou and Sandy had phrased the last line as "Conventional and erotic" originally, then cleverly altered the second letter in 'erotic' to lure unsuspecting prospective new up-and-comers.

Heather glossed over the card for about three spectacularly blasé seconds. She let it drop on the table, picking up her shoes from the ground and slipping them on one at a time. She grabbed her phone and purse and got up to leave. "Sorry, lady," she mumbled apathetically. "Not interested."

She started away, leaving Sandra at the table on her own.

"Suit yourself," said Sandy, just loud enough for her to hear. "Starting female salary's $1000 a day."

Something in that sentence made Heather immediately spin back around. She returned to the table.

Sandra noticed. "Oh," she said innocently. "Change your mind?"

"Did you say...a THOUsand dollars...a day?"

"Why, yes I did," she confirmed. She dug briefly through her own purse and pulled out her checkbook and a pen. She scribbled out a check to just that amount, signed it, tore it out and handed it out in her direction. "You may consider this your advance..."

Heather came promptly back and sat down with her again. She snatched the check and took a look at it, but Sandy continued, "...But only if you're willing to come to the interview. If you don't attend the interview, or decide you don't want the job, the check won't be any good."

Heather just studied the check for a moment. Yeah, that was a one and three zeroes all right, no hidden decimal in there. And opposed to any other form of currency, that was definitely a dollar sign in front of the numbers.

"So, Wednesday afternoon, around this time or so?" she asked.

***

March 30th, 4:51 p.m.

The Burtons had prettied themselves up for Heather's arrival, Lou in a three-piece and Sandy in a conservative blue cocktail dress. They were conducting the interview in the top-floor living room of their home-slash-studio. They brought out a veggie-dip plate and set it out on the coffee table, as they found that to be a pleasing welcome to any and all guests and future staff. There was also an additional reason they'd particularly gone with veggies.

A short while later came the fateful knock on the door. Three slow, sharp raps. To one who didn't know Heather, a fraction of her personality could be discerned by the knock alone. Actually a fair percentage of Lou and Sandra's visitors considered themselves to be whimsical, quirky individuals, demonstrating so by banging out their inaugural knock to the beat of "Shave And A Haircut."

Lou opened the door. There stood Heather, again dressed in one of her pantsuits. Lou diagnosed mainly apathy and indifference in her face at first glance, though to Sandy, who had met Heather previously, just a tiny trace of sadness could also be read around the edges of her eyes. She held her purse in front of her with both hands at thigh-level, as if she were a child who had just gotten the first purse she'd ever had.

"Welcome!" grinned Lou. He held out his hand. "You of course must be Heather."

Heather said nothing for the moment. She hesitated, then just gave a slight nod and weakly returned the handshake.

"Come in!" said Lou. "Make yourself at home."

"Hi, Heather!" greeted Sandra in the same cheerful tone of voice as when they met at the Klondike building. "It's so nice to see you again!" The hand-shaking appeared to make her less than comfy, so she gave her a nice smile and a wave instead.

Heather gave Sandy a nod as well, trying to make eye contact. She was really sincerely trying to be polite and make a good first impression on them, but...it was exceedingly difficult for her. At 25, Heather Annie Hoffen had had a pretty rough childhood and adolescence. She did okay scholastically, but she'd never had many more than one or two close friends, and always felt cast out of place in school. There was truth in what she'd told Sandra outside her corner of the Klondike too; she was considered unattractive by the boys in school. She wasn't asked to any dances, but she wasn't exactly dying to go to them anyway. Her home life wasn't much better, brought up by two verbally abusive parents whose love for her seemed questionable, and who couldn't afford to give her the things her classmates' could give them. Her life was a virtually perfect mirror image of Janis Ian's song "At Seventeen."

As a result of this lousy hand of cards, she couldn't catch a lot of breaks. The truth was, Heather had always had a secret desire for attention—preferably of the positive nature, of course, but at this point, if all available attention was less so, she had to settle for what she could get. Deep down, she knew terminal shyness and visible disinterest were easily mistaken for quiet hostility, and she certainly knew that wouldn't win her any friends. The roadblock lay in her approach to become more outgoing and extroverted. But also deep down, at the same time, she was terrified that if she allowed herself to open up to others she would just be setting herself up for more rejection, heartbreak and lonesomeness. Working up herself to be friendly and sociable took energy at this point, and when she still didn't seem to be rewarded for it, it was all the more discouraging, which turned into an unfortunate cycle.

Her desire for attention clearly steered her in the wrong direction in regards to her ex-relationship as well. She had cheated on her boyfriend, in the worst manner possible, and she knew she wasn't in her right mind at the time. The reality of someone else actually also being interested in her majorly clouded her better judgment, and after she realized what she had done, she felt awful. The man with whom she'd abandoned her boyfriend was essentially a user who'd just wanted cheap sex, and she'd ended up losing the man who'd genuinely liked her and might have made a future with her. And she'd broken her own heart on several levels, perhaps the most disappointing being the feeling that however she tried, she just wasn't a good person. She couldn't stop persecuting herself.

All this had happened a couple of months before, and she was having trouble getting past it. But she'd been cleanly and matter-of-factly honest with Sandra about her infidelity because the continued lack of attention (positive or otherwise) drained her of any want for privacy about her personal life, and also because outside opinions no longer fazed her. There was nothing anyone could tell her that she hadn't told herself a hundred times already. No one could punish her more severely than she'd punished herself. It was true, her ex-boyfriend was becoming very friendly with another girl remarkably soon after the breakup, but she didn't know how long it had been going on. She honestly didn't know if he had been with her while they were still together, or if her act was what thrust him into the other woman's arms. She knew she didn't have any right to be upset about it, but when she saw the two of them together, she nevertheless couldn't help wishing she could drive a stake through that girl's heart. Oh, if only she could go back in time.

But it was just as well; she couldn't repair the damage she'd done her boyfriend, and trying to get him back wouldn't accomplish anything at this point. She still felt terrible, but she couldn't change the past, it happened, it was done, and so she decided she had to move on, try to make a fresh start, learn from her mistakes and hope she could be lucky enough to meet someone else as good. This experience definitely hadn't helped improve her social skills, but perhaps fate would give her another chance if she gave herself another chance. And though she remained baffled by Sandra's belief that she was a model, she thought meeting her and her husband for this interview could encourage her to do more new things, draw herself out of her self-loathing rut and make a fresh start.

Lou and Sandy took her into the living room and they sat down together.

"That's a lovely purse, Heather," Sandra complimented her.

"Oh, uh...thank you," she said timidly, working up a tiny smile. She summoned up some words she wanted and arranged them in her mind. "By the way, Mrs. Sandra, ma'am, I wanted to apologize if I came off at all as dismissive or aloof last week." She looked around the room as she said it, having trouble making steady eye contact, feeling a little awkward about it all. "I didn't really mean to, 's just..." She shrugged and let it drop off.

"Oh!" Sandy scoffed and gestured it away. "Don't even worry about it one bit. Go ahead, sit, sit. Have some veggies, help yourself."

As Heather sat down, Sandra deliberately turned the veggie tray around so that the carrots were closest to where Heather was sitting, encouraging her to begin with them.

"Well, it's indeed wonderful to meet you, Heather," said Lou as he and his wife also sat. "Sandy's told me a little bit about you."

Heather threw Sandra a look.

"Oh, don't worry," she assured her. "I also told him there were a couple things we talked about that wouldn't go any further than the two of us."

Heather relaxed a little. Lou said next, "Although it's really okay either way, Heather; believe you me, I'm truly the least judgmental person in the world. Seriously, someone could tell me the single worst thing possible about themselves, and I'd still try to give them the benefit of the doubt."

Heather was pleased to hear that, though her countenance still reflected apprehension.

"So, I understand Sandy's filled you in on some of the details of our little operation here?" he asked.

"Well, uh...kind of..." she said uneasily, unassumingly fingering one of the carrot sticks, not bringing it to her mouth just yet.

"Heather, hon, you seem a bit nervous," remarked Sandy. "You know what, maybe it would help relax you a little if you took off your shoes and put your feet up." She patted the top of the coffee table. "You know, like you were that day outside your building. You did seem more at ease then." She nodded with a smile. "Really, please do, go ahead!" she encouraged. "We want you to be as comfy as possible with us."

While this seemed a bit of an out-of-the-ordinary request, Heather nonetheless said, "...Okay," slipped them off and rested her bare feet upon their table, crossing her legs just as she had on the other chair outside the office.

When she unknowingly put her feet on display for them, Lou and Sandy both mentally marveled at just how petite and soft and pure they looked. One might not exactly say they were flawlessly immaculate, but she certainly looked after them. Sandy was close in guessing her size; she was actually a 7-and-a-half.

With one slight glance to one another at which no one could suspect a thing, Sandy and Lou communicated an entire conversation.

See, babe, what did I tell you?

Wow, Sands, you weren't kidding; those little sweeties are adorable. They're almost as cute as yours.

Honey, they ARE as cute as mine. In fact, they're even cuter. This girl may be grown up, but she's still just a kid; she's only 25.

They ticklish?

Dunno; haven't found out yet. Don't worry, we will.

"There! That's better, huh?" Sandy said. "Now, let's go ahead and get on with the interview. Now Heather, you told me you'd never done anything like this professionally before, right?"

Heather dipped one of the carrot sticks and took a bite out of it. "Right."

"No film work at all?" asked Lou. Heather shook her head. "Mm-mm."

"How do you feel about exhibitionism?" was the next question Sandy asked.

Her expression turned a tad surprised. "Like...taking my clothes off?" she said through bites of carrot.

"Well, yes," she answered. "I know you don't have any experience, but it's okay, that can't hurt you here. And what we're looking for requires a bit more exposure than your average day of modeling."

"...All of it?"

"Well, we can ease into it, and work our way along," Lou explained to her. He could see she was becoming reluctant, so he steered her back in their direction. "Oh, and Sandy did tell you about the salary, didn't she? That it's $1400 a day?"

Heather's eyes popped open as she swung her gaze back to Sandra. "I...thought you told me it was $1000."

"Oh, did she?" asked Lou, feigning. "I'm sorry, sometimes my handy little Sandy gets her figures a little mixed up. It used to be just a thousand total. When our sales increased we upped it to $1400."

"Ah—he's right," said Sandy. "At that point I'd become used to telling candidates the salary was an even thousand. I'm sorry about that, Heather," she apologized with a small chuckle.

Actually, both of them knew full well it was $1400 at that point and had been for a long time. The part about upping the money when they sold more product was true, but the initial—intentional—little white fib about the figure was a deliberate move on their part, one of Sandy's techniques from her psychological bag of tricks. If a person goes into a job opportunity being told what they'll be making, she'd explained to Lou long ago, and then finds out they'll actually be making even (much) more, they will feel that much more eager and inclined to take the job and perform any tasks involved.

"Oh my God!" exclaimed Heather. "That's almost ten grand a week!"

"Total, yes," said Lou, "If you're willing to work every weekday and weekends as well."

"Of course, if we keep you on payroll through the end of the year, there's an annual $5000 Christmas bonus," added Sandy, to Heather's amazement.

"WHOA!" said Heather, about two hundred percent more excited about the position than she was first setting foot on Lou and Sandy's doorstep. "Is there really that much money in modeling??"

"Heather, if we decide to hire you and keep you on staff, this would just be the beginning," Sandy told her, drawing her in further. "Remember, I told you, that daily $1400 is only starting salary. And furthermore, traditional modeling often lasts only a few years, but here in our little academy, if you take excellent care of your face, and especially your body...who knows how far this could go."

By this point Heather was becoming truly excited. Sandy took another carrot from the vegetable tray, dipped it and handed it to her. "Here, hon, have another carrot."

"OH my GOD!" repeated Heather. "Just for taking my clothes off? What am I going to be doing, modeling lingerie or something like that?"

"Well, not exactly," said Lou. "Heather, let me ask you this: how do you feel about performing in front of a large live audience?"

Heather thought about it. If she did this, it appeared that her constant thirst for attention would be quenched, if only temporarily. The source of the attention did not matter quite as much to her as the attention itself; she found it hard to care if she was applauded for her mind or for her body. Hey, maybe they would let her be a "smart" model, if such a thing existed, and she could earn applause for both. Their magic was working better than they planned; she was indeed getting more eager by the moment.

"I think I'd like that," she said, starting to smile.

"Okay then, good, next question," Sandy asked her. "How do you feel about being...touched, on camera?"

Her hint of a smile retreated. "Touched?"

"Yes."

"Touched how?"

"Well, we won't lie to you, Heather," Lou took over, "Touched in a rather intimate manner. Our material deals in very...shall we say, familiar...and friendly subject matter."

Hmm, thought Heather. With those high monetary figures, she figured something more on the demanding side was involved. "So..." she hesitated, "You're saying I might be, like, what, in my underwear, together with a guy, pretending to...make out, something like that?"

Lou and Sandra looked at each other a moment with a nod before turning back to her. "Well...yeah," said Sandra. "The content may shift back and forth in terms of the intimacy and intensity, but, yeah, you've got a decent idea of it."

She processed it. "Okay..." she discreetly commented.

"Well, Heather, we've got a few more details to lay out, but how do you feel about this opportunity so far?" asked Lou.

How did she feel...well, on the one hand, she felt rather nervous about taking her clothes off in front of a bunch of strangers, but, she reasoned with herself, they probably wouldn't ask her to be completely naked...or would they? On the other hand, first of all, $1400 a day—just to start, no less—and she also reminded herself that she never knew what it felt like to be visibly attractive. It sounded like this would be a good way to find out.

"Well, it...definitely sounds interesting," was all she could think to say at the moment.

"Good!" said Lou. "So then let me tell you a little bit about the whole process. Basically, as you're in center stage, and the audience is watching, Sandy'll give you cues and direction. The two of us do in fact also participate and do some performing ourselves."

"Oh...'kay, I see..."

"And also," Sandy chimed in, "We're always looking for new ideas and crowd-pleasers for our productions and shoots. We're very timely with the annual holiday schedule. This Sunday, for example, the first project for which we'd like to use you, if you're interested, is going to be our Easter greetings show. It will take place on the holiday itself, Easter Sunday, and it will start at 9:00 p.m. It basically, essentially entails portraying the Easter Bunny."

"Yes, but I must let you know a few things at this point," Lou stepped in. "You see, for one, Heather, there is no rehearsal. One of the twists of our material is that everything is done impromptu. Rehearsing a shoot of this nature beforehand can result in losing the natural spontaneity. We strive to make our productions as real and natural as possible. Make sense?"

"I...think so."

"Excellent. The next thing you need to know is, there is no questioning our direction. Pardon me for being firm, but I remind you that you are working for us, and you will need to do everything we say, exactly as we say."

Heather nodded, in complete agreement with that.

"That's right," added Sandy. "The secret to our success is those ingredients: spontaneity, impulsiveness and compliance."

"So, Heather," said Lou, "All of this in mind...do you think you might like to be our Easter Bunny?"

Heather tried to see the cons of the situation to properly weigh things out, but the money and the attention kept impeding her vision. All she could see were the pros. Much as she attempted to, she could not bring too many negatives to mind regarding how this job sounded. However, one thought that made her anxious continued to return.

"Uh...would I have to, eh..." She cleared her throat and asked quickly, "Would I have to be naked?"

They took a second, and Sandy fielded this question. "Well, Heather, the circumstances vary. It's like I told you before, the line of the intimacy-slash-intensity moving back and forth. This is a very challenging business, and there're lots of reasons most don't make it. One reason is they don't have what it takes. Some have opted out at this point. But I will be honest with you: the answer is yes."

Heather widened her eyes and gulped.

"But not all the time," Sandy went on. "It will depend on the particular scenario in play at that time. Should we decide we'd be able to use your talents in a particular video shoot, and you decide to participate, you may be naked or you may not, depending upon what that scenario entails."




How to Break a Bad Rabbit



"Right. Oftentimes, everyone is nude. But there will be some times when you would be nude and others would be clothed, and then other times when you would have clothes, others nude. So it's just vice versa, you see?" elaborated Lou.

Heather thought this through. It was a startling thought, though she was a sensible person; she knew they wouldn't be paying her this handsomely for nothing. Still, at the same time she felt the anxiety of baring herself to all those strangers, a part of her found it somehow intriguing. If they cheered on her nudity, it could be taken as a compliment. A big compliment. Something thought of as genuinely good and appealing about her. She liked that idea. And yet...it remained a tough decision.

Sandra broke into her consideration. "I will tell you this much, Heather—and we can't go into much more detail at this point, but I can tell you one thing right now, and that is: the Easter Bunny will be brought on stage in her bra and panties."

That seemed a little much right off the bat. "Oh, gosh," said Heather.

"And—oh, actually, there's one other thing we can tell you right now about the show," said Lou. "We may be on stage with you as well, but that's all. There is no supporting cast in this show. The Easter Bunny is the only performer. So not only is this a starring role, it's the only role, really. Should all of us be interested in you participating, all of the performance would be yours."

Well, that sounded pretty cool, she thought. Absolutely ALL of the attention on her, and only her.

"Do I need to, like, memorize anything? Is there a script or something?" she asked.

"No," Lou said. "'S like we said before. It's basically improv. We'll tell you what to do and say. Just leave the direction of your performance up to us."

She thought some more. She had to admit, they were making it sound pretty tempting.

"Do you need an answer right away?" she asked.

"Actually, I'm afraid we do," said Sandy. "I know the timing is a bit unfortunate, Heather, and I really apologize for that. This was the only day both of us were free, as were you. You can have a little time to think about if it you really need some, but I'm sorry to say it's a gamble. It's pretty risky. During that time you're thinking about it, if we decide we're interested in someone else who's also immediately interested, we would have to offer them the job."

"Oh, gosh..." Heather let herself go back and forth on it for a few more moments, and then decided with herself, Y'know what? Fuck it. What the hell. Maybe it's about time I did something wild like this. It sounds a little scary, but it also sounds like it could be really fun! And maybe doing something crazy'll help take my mind off all the stupid stuff I did recently. Just maybe...what the hell!

"Okay..." She took a breath. "So...are you guys definitely offering me the job right now?" she asked eagerly.

They both nodded. Sandra said, "If you want it right now, it's yours."

Heather accepted before she could talk herself out of it. "I'll take it!"

"Oh, wonderful!" "That's great!" Sandy and Lou said, respectively and simultaneously. Sandy, sitting nearer to her, took a carrot stick, dipped it and fed it to her. "Here you go...bunny," she said.

***

Easter Sunday, April 3rd, 8:33 p.m.

The sun was arc'ing down, waving goodbye to the moon. The baskets had been given out. The families had taken themselves to church. The stores' candy shelves had been reduced to barely a single M&M, Peep or jelly bean. The dairy sections hadn't a single case of eggs left. They had all been purchased, and the ones that were not eaten were dyed, painted and decorated, hidden and found.

Lou and Sandy had asked Heather to show up at their door half an hour before show time, which would have been 8:30. She got there just a few minutes after. She apologized to them for being late, but they told her it was no big deal. They asked her to please wait upstairs while their guests arrived and were ushered down into the basement. Sandra kept her company on the top floor while Lou greeted the visitors who would collectively form Heather's audience.

Heather was now in their living room where their interview had taken place, wearing only a translucent lace bra and panties. Sandra had given them to her and said she could change in the bathroom when she'd arrived.

"So, how you feeling?" asked Sandy.

She took a breath. "Uh, well...not too bad...few butterflies, y'know, but...well, I'm excited!" she smiled. The enthusiastic part of her kept trying to convince the anxious part of her to just relax and have fun.

Sandra smiled too. "Excellent," she replied. "Would you like a little snack or drink before we get started?"

"Ooh, ummm, I probably shouldn't," Heather said. "If I do, and then I get real nervous in front of everybody, I might do something...bad," was the word she went with.

Sandra nodded. Her mouth said, "Completely understand." Her mind said, Oh, hon, if you only knew.

She explained to Heather as the remaining minutes ticked down that Lou would be introducing the show, and she would escort her out on stage later, and that she was not to go anywhere near the stage until Sandra brought her out. She nodded.

Lou, meanwhile, was checking the guest list. He'd asked everyone who wished to attend to show no later than 8:45. He went over it several times, as always, and at 8:52, after a final confirmation that everybody had indeed arrived, he went upstairs to check on Heather.

"How's our new little bunny?" he asked with a grin.

"Oh, she's just a teeny bit nervous," said Sandy. Turning back to Heather, she said, "Don't worry, you're gonna do great. Just remember, you don't have to come up with anything yourself, I'm going to feed you all your direction. And just remember too, you must do absolutely everything I tell you, and absolutely only what I tell you."

It was almost 9:00. Another minute or two went by as Lou checked himself in the mirror, glanced at the clock, threw them a thumbs-up and headed downstairs to begin the show intro.

They heard the door creak open, followed by a mild wave of applause, then the door shut. Heather couldn't hear anything once it closed again.

"Good evening!" Lou called as he stepped to the middle of the studio. It was a large rectangular room, somewhat narrow though not extremely so, and on three sides of it sat dozens of the Burtons' friends, colleagues, reviewers and other guests, leaving only vacant the side of the room bearing the door and curtain. The curtain concealed the small "backstage" area, where technicals such as props, toys, other sexual aids and recording equipment were kept.

When they bought this house, they'd had the room specially built with a widely-spaced three-step staircase that expanded around its occupied three sides, so that they could set up chairs for audiences on it. They knew they would need a vast open space. Fortunately, the maximum room capacity was just a bit upwards of a hundred, and there was still plenty of space left for the entertainment. They'd also had the forethought to hire a carpet expert to come in and craft them a massive rug to run the length of the stage, made of impossibly soft sheepskin fibers, thickness healthy enough so that stunts could be performed on it without any serious injuries. It was as soft as insulation; it was like stepping onto a cloud.

Sometimes, like this evening, a few additional touches were made around the room. For example, in front of the audience chairs, about every three or four seats apart, sat Easter baskets filled basically identically with grass, eggs, candy and other goodies.

There was another small round of applause. "Welcome to our Easter spectacular!" said Lou. "We're delighted and honored by your presence this evening. As you know, we've got a special performance in store for you tonight, presenting a brand-new bunny in her Burton Productions debut!"

Lou continued. At a couple minutes past 9:00, Sandra finally took Heather downstairs to stand just outside the door and wait for her cue. Lou's voice of course grew more audible the closer they came.

"Ready, hon?" whispered Sandy.

She gave a few excited nods. "I, uh...I think so, yeah."

Finally, after a few more nerve-wracking for Heather but perfectly run-of-the-mill moments for Sandy, he said, "And now, without further ado..."

Sandra turned the knob and quietly slid the door the first few inches open.

"...I give you...our Easter Bunny for this evening: the, lovely, Heather!"

Sandra tossed the door the rest of the way open and led her in by the hand. When Heather walked in to a generous hand of applause and gazed around at what she saw, her tummy did a flip. Her feet suddenly felt very cold. She felt herself flush just a little in the cheeks. She was quite nervous now. There must have been eighty people in the room!

GULLLLLLP.

She abruptly felt very self-conscious. She had no idea the audience would be this large on her first shoot. It looked like about a 60-40 ratio of men to women. She wanted to cover herself, but forced herself to keep cool and remember what led her to the decision. Just go with it, she kept repeating to her timid self. Just go with it. Behind them, Lou silently shut the door. Having earlier readied the camera, he began rolling. There were also a couple of other stationary cameras placed strategically among the corners of the audience, zoomed at the appropriate degree to capture just the optimum footage. They all rolled at the same time. This way, when Lou compiled his film, he could use the preferred angle for any scene or shot, cut and splice, and produce a quality video.

Sandy was smiling big and lovely and waving to the audience, Heather noticed as the applause continued and finally started to die down. She did her best to smile big and wave along with her.

Placed on the rug a few feet in front of where they were standing was another large basket, but this one was extra-sized to hold props specific to the occasion. Not letting Heather see what was in it just yet, Sandra took it in her other hand.

"Good evening and welcome once more, everyone!" she said. "We'd like you to meet our brand-new, pure-as-silk virgin, Heather." She clearly meant "virgin" only in terms of never having participated in their activities before. "Tonight is her first shoot, so..." She tossed out a shrug. "...go easy on her."

She flashed the audience a wink, then turned to Heather, who was staring at her a little alarmedly, wondering what exactly she meant by that. Sandy gave her a benevolent smile that seemed to say, Don't fret, I'm just teasing you. The audience threw her back a few provocative knowing laughs.

"Well, guess we better go ahead and get started, huh?" Sandra asked everybody. "You wanted a bunny rabbit, you got one." She retrieved the first item from the basket, a hair band with a pair of bunny ears attached, which she handed to Heather. "I presume you know what to do with this," she instructed. She did. And she did with it what she knew to do.

As she put them on, Sandy slipped the basket down her arm to free both hands and got the next two items: a small capped black watercolor and a paintbrush. "Okay, bunny, turn this way, please, my girl," she said.

This would be Lou's cue to come out from behind the camera and bring her a small glass of water. She dipped it, and readied the paint. "Now, this isn't going to harm your skin; it's just a watercolor. You might want to close your eyes, though. Now don't move..." She painted the tip of Heather's nose black.

Heather shut her eyes tighter with a stifled giggle. "That tickles."

"Yeah, usually does," Sandy smirked, dipping it a few more times and drawing whiskers on her cheeks.

When she was finished, she stepped back. "Aw..." she smiled, "Adorable." She deposited the brush in the water glass, snapped the watercolor shut, dropped it back in the basket and gave Heather a rotating finger gesture. "A'right, turn around, bright eyes."

She obeyed. The next thing Sandra took from the basket was a case of petroleum jelly. "Now hold still, head straight forward," she ordered, popping it open and smearing her hand with it. She bent her knees, squatted, subtly slid down the back side of the panties and applied the jelly to Heather's rear end.

Heather wasn't expecting that. She twitched, and her fingers curled up a little. She was becoming a little uncomfy and embarrassed, but the audience was already very amused by this opening act. Once Sandra had finished liberally applying a healthy layer of jelly to her ass, she gave her a punctuating spank and wiped the excess jelly off her hand on Heather's lower back. Once that was done, she seized the next object from the basket, the reason for the jelly. It was a plastic bag with a large ball of cotton in it.

"Theeeeeere we go," said Sandy, fastening on her tail with just enough force that it stuck. "You are SO damn cute!" she chuckled, adoringly gliding a finger down the back of her right leg, making her quiver a little more.

"'Kay, honey bunny, close your eyes and turn back around," she said, returning the empty baggie to the basket and swapping that for a sizable, thick, full carrot, as opposed to the small carrot sticks they'd given her at her interview. When Heather turned around again, Sandra said, "Now keep 'em closed...and open that bunny mouth nice and wide..."

Heather raised her closed eyes' brows and slowly, cautiously did as Sandra said. "Wider..." She affixed the carrot sideways between Heather's teeth. It was large enough to keep her mouth open with her jaws relaxed. "...Keep holding still...aaaaand, close." Heather again did so, hearing and feeling a light crunch. As Sandra removed her hands, she heard the audience laugh. Popping open her eyes and looking down, she couldn't see far past her painted nose, but with a little discernment from her tongue, she determined that it was indeed a carrot.

It made the audience giggle, but again, it felt a little embarrassing to Heather, who was now feeling a little like a pig with an apple shoved in its mouth. But she left it there, knowing she'd probably get in trouble if she removed it.

"Now you're starting to look like a bunny!" Sandra exclaimed with a clap of her hands. She turned to the audience. "Now, ladies and gentlemen, if you recall, Lou asked you to take a one-question poll before the show. So, I say we do this by applause. Now how many vote for choice A?"

The crowd produced a mild round of applause.

"Okay, good...B?"

A slightly milder cheer for choice B.

"And...C?"

The audience roared for C. "Wow!" said Sandy, returning to the basket. "I think we've got our answer; cuffs it is!"

Heather whipped her gaze to her. "Wuhh?" she asked, her mouth gagged with carrot.

Sandy gave her a smile and the rotating finger gesture again.

"W-...wuhh uh iu guhwuh oo?" an alarmed Heather shouted.

Sandra manually turned her around herself. "Why, honor the voice of the people, of course," she answered, pulling a set of leather-lined handcuffs from the basket. Letting the basket drop to the floor, she took Heather's wrists from behind, one at a time, and proceeded to cuff them together, prompting a muffled inquisitive squeal from Heather once she realized what was happening.

"You heard 'em, Heth," Sandra told her in a no-nonsense tone. "The question was how to properly restrain you. You know bunnies; if you don't catch them early on, they run away."

Heather couldn't believe it. "Yoh guhwuh rie ee uhh??"

"That's right, sweetie. Option A was rope—or twine—B was chains, C was cuffs. They picked C."

An impulse was suddenly awoken in Heather. For one half-second, she tried to turn and run for the door, but Sandy had her by the arm and held her back.

"He—!" The handcuffing complete, Sandy seized her elbow and pulled her back in front of her. She pushed her shoulders down, making her bend over, and gave her a disciplinary sharp smack on the side of her ass, where there was no cotton. "Bad bunny!" she admonished, triggering another whimper from her and another chortle from the crowd. "You're not going anywhere."

She brought her back up again. "Now be a good girl, and behave."

The audience tittered. Some of them feigned sympathy with a giggly "awww." Heather was beginning to feel humiliated. She would have tried to spit the carrot out, but it became more and more difficult as it slid and dug further back in her teeth, almost cutting off her airway. She tried to bite through it, but it was more carrot than her jaws and teeth could chew off at once. She tried to open her mouth as wide as she could, if only to ease it back towards her front teeth.

She whimpered again as she next felt Sandra cuffing her feet. Her legs were shaking, but she couldn't do anything now. Once her feet were fixed together fast, she felt the light breeze of air as Sandra stood back up behind her again.

"Almost all set, cinnamon bunny," she said. "Just one more slight adjustment to make here..."

Heather felt her doing something to her back around the spine, and then a cold chill assaulted her spine as she realized what it was. Sandra was...yes, she was! Unhooking her bra!

The audience was starting to whoop and whistle. "Uhhhhhrr!" Heather protested.

When all the hooks were undone, Sandy said, "Silly rabbit, have you ever seen a bunny wearing clothes? Of course not!" She slipped around to Heather's front and tugged on the straps, which Heather was desperately trying to hold pinned down on her body with her arms. She gave Heather another, harder smack, on the side of the other ass cheek. When Heather again yelped at the sting and her guard was knocked down, Sandra yanked the bra off her and flung it into the basket.

The audience cheered. Her breasts were on full display, completely exposed. The 25-year-old lass wasn't bargaining for that. Heather yelped once more, a step higher in pitch and two additional seconds in length. She knew deep down she still couldn't do anything, but her body reflexively jerked about, as if she thought she could wrench out of the shackles and cover back up.

"I khauk iu kheh I wukh guhwuh hwee ih hwy hraw auh hwahheekh!" she shouted.

"Ah, ah, I said I'd bring you out in your bra and panties. I never said you'd stay in them."

Each second seemed to amp the intensity of the situation, and the ever-upping ante was upped again next. She felt Sandra slip her fingers into the sides of the panties and whip them down her legs. Heather screamed, spastically jerking and jumping again, but the scream was inaudible over the audience's even bigger cheer this time. She knew it was going to lead to more trouble, but she tried to hop and shuffle her feet around to turn her back to the crowd. Of course, Sandra halted her halfway through.

"SIT...still, you naughty little hare whore," scolded Sandra. Heather let her eyes shut with a cringe, beginning to want to cry. She dropped her sad eyes to the floor, wanting to sink and vanish into it. She didn't notice Sandy taking another object from the basket, a fresh stick of lipstick, until she put it to work on her.

"Bend over," Sandy ordered her, shoving her down by the shoulders again. As Heather did so, Sandra popped the lipstick open and out, and Heather felt the sensation of Sandra doing something on her back with it. She felt an alternating pattern of curvy and straight lines being lipstick-scrawled first across her upper back, then her lower back. Finally, Sandy rolled the lipstick back down, capped it, put it away, pulled Heather's body up again and pulled her hair from her back over her shoulders to the front.




How to Break a Bad Rabbit



"Okay, now turn around." She spun her 180°, making her shift her feet around like a penguin, now indeed turning Heather's back on their guests, and after a second Heather heard a mixture of cheers, laughter and mock-sympathetic "awww"s. Heather had no idea what Sandra had scribbled or drawn on her back—all her mind could concentrate on was the nightmare this "model shoot" had become. She had adequately deciphered it as some sort of bizarre porno thing. She couldn't believe she had allowed herself to be lured into this prison of shame.

Sandra turned her back around. "Why don't we address our little rabbit friend by the new pet name we've just given her?" she requested.

Heather looked in the dozens and dozens of eyes in the audience to see them shout at her, "SLUT-BUNNY!!"

When being addressed by that terrible phrase struck Heather's brain, it pricked her in the eyes so hard she cried immediately. Breaking into tears, it was hard enough breathing already, mostly through her nose, under normal circumstances, but now standing stark naked, cold and making her whiskers run sobbing down her cheeks, she had to concentrate extra hard just to circulate her oxygen. The audience regarded her crying with varied reactions, but she couldn't care so much anymore. Sandy fetched a pair of scissors and snipped the panties in half to get them off from around her ankles, but she didn't care about that either. This was making her feel so mortified and crestfallen, all she wanted right now was to make it go away.

The audience's response settled down, but she was continuing to weep just as hard. She might consider this just about the most horrific day/evening of her life, but even if not somehow, it was definitely in the top three. Sandra looked at her. "What's the matter, bunny? You look upset. Aren't you having fun?"

In a moment of ire, Heather's larynx croaked out a phrase she regretted instantly. "Hrukh iu."

OH, no, she promptly thought. Tell me I didn't just say that. Even though her voice was muffled, she was pretty certain Sandra would still be able to comprehend it.

And she was. "Excuse me..." she said to Heather, placing an ominous hand on her shoulder. "Just what was that again?"

Heather was starting to shake, and a whole other stream of tears was coming on from a totally different source. "Uhkhiw," she pleaded. "UHKHIW. I' khahwee. I' khahwee! I hwihwi hwee ih! I' KHAHWEE!"

"ARE you now," Sandra hissed at her, squeezing her shoulder. "That's funny, you know, because for a moment there it sounded like you said..." She took Heather by the back of her hair. "...fuck you."

A low, sweeping "oooooooohhh" emanated from the audience, anticipating the poor girl's demise.

Sandra didn't have her by the hair hard enough to hurt her, just to frighten her. Heather emitted another terrified muffled wail. "Wihwih Khahhee, I' khoh khahwee! Hweekh, I hwihwi wee ih..." she spat out between her wracked sobs.

Eventually, Sandy nodded, releasing her grip. "All right," she said, "You didn't mean it. I will choose to believe you." She stalked back to the basket and grabbed the lipstick again. "But yet, when a bunny is bad, a bunny must be punished nevertheless," she said sternly. Making sure all the hair was brushed away, Sandra started writing something else across her forehead. "And this bunny," she continued, recapping the lipstick and getting another as yet unused object from the basket, a hand mirror, "Has just earned herself a new nickname."

Heather heard her voice approach again until she was right in front of her. She looked up into the mirror and promptly regretted it. Staring back at her on her forehead was the backwards reflection of the letters "TNUC." She cringed her eyes shut and let a shamed whine drip pitifully out of her. She sank to the floor until she was a humbled heap of ignominy on her knees. The audience's reactions were many, varied and merciless. Clearly, some things are worse than death, she thought to herself.

"All right, perk up now," she heard Mrs. Sandra say. She took Heather by the arm and slowly pulled her back up to her feet. "We're not just going to have you standing still all evening, of course not. It's time for you to entertain our guests."

Heather held off on the sobbing long enough to turn her puffy red eyes to her. "Khahw?"

"Why, how else?" Sandra answered. "By bunny-hopping!"

The audience applauded. Heather was surprised to find herself not utterly horrified by the thought of this latest exhibition. The response from the audience felt strange. On one hand, they seemed to really like her...well, really like seeing her humiliated, that was to say, on the other hand, they intimidated her. And yet, the shy meekness of her nudity was wearing off, and she was growing used to being naked in front of all these strangers. After all, she reasoned, they had being staring at her entire body for several minutes now, and the one bright spot was that now there was no more left to hide. And they seemed to like her body...or did they? Or were they just applauding and cheering out of what passed for support?

Well, she thought, maybe the worst was over. She'd been stripped, cuffed up, publicly disgraced and mocked, labeled a slut and a cunt, and forced to bawl her eyes out, and her teeth were really starting to ache, but if she tried to put it in perspective...at least it had all been done now. Even though it was still happening, the act of setting such events in motion was in the past. Maybe she could get a little more used to it...

Sandy had recapped the lipstick again and this time removed all the items left in the large basket. She brought it back to Heather and commanded her, "Now hold still, my little bunny-whore..."

Heather obeyed her, submissively looking at the floor. The words still stung her feelings and made her weep, but at least the sting was starting to dull. Sandra unlocked her left hand from its cuff. Heather raised her eyebrows and looked at her.

"Nope," Sandy said. "Don't get used to it." She slipped the basket around her free arm and recuffed her. "Now get on your knees." Heather again expressionlessly did as she said. Sandra scooted her ass up and forward a bit, getting another good look at those lovely soles. "Oh, look at your little pink bunny paws," Heather heard her say. She stroked one of them.

"Y'ticklish?" she heard from behind her. Her body jiggled at the sensation and her teeth sank further into the carrot as her facial muscles were forced into a smile. She felt the other one stroked, and again twitched and giggled through the carrot.

"Awww, how adorable...sweet little bunny's ticklish on her paws," Sandra told the crowd. "Isn't that cute?"

Heather made a point of taking an especially deep breath in through her nose, having a feeling she was going to be needing it. She started exhaling just in time to hear Sandy say, in a low, scary voice, "Sweet little bunny's gonna love this then."

Uh-oh, she thought, turning afraid again. Maybe the worst wasn't over. The next contact she felt was unfamiliar. Something was being attached...to the bottoms of her feet, it felt like. What was going on now?

After another moment, Sandra pulled back up once more, concealing the two objects now in her other hand. "Okay, bunny, one more thing, what is it...oh yes!" She dangled one of the two objects, a long, narrow, opaque scarf, just in front of Heather's eyes and nose. "What do you think, ladies and gents?" Sandra asked. "Blindfold her?"

The audience threw out a huge cheer. Heather panicked.

She looked at Sandy, begging her and shaking her head. "Auh-auh," she cried. "Hweekh ohhh! Hweekhhweekhhweekh ohhh!"

Sandy clutched her chin, looking back into her sad-puppy eyes. "You heard 'em, bunny. The audience calls the shots here."

Heather Hoffen had just had a LASIK procedure done to her eyes a couple of years ago, which was a very big relief. Her whole life until then had involved wearing glasses to correct her extreme nearsightedness, which she hated. She didn't hate the way they looked or being teased about them, but she did hate the total blindness that instantly assaulted her senses when they came off. Being blind had become one of her most mind-crippling fears. She didn't even like having to close her eyes to go to sleep very much. She was sure she wouldn't be able to handle this.

Once Sandra tied it over her eyes, she freaked. She started juddering, shaking and whimpering. The basket too jumped and bounced off the side of her body. Sandra took hold of her other, unoccupied arm, and said, "ALL right, bunny, it's all right, I've got you. Come on now. I'm going to guide you down the bunny trail." She nodded to the audience on Heather's basket-bearing arm's side to bring their respective baskets into play. "Because that's the name of this first little game we're gonna play; it's called Bunny Trail! And as you go along, our guests are going to fill up your bunny basket! Doesn't that sound fun?"

The only thing that sounded fun right now was yanking the infernal blindfold off.

"Well, it will be," said Sandy with evil glee. "Take my word for it. All right, bunny, straightforward. Time to get hoppin'."

Not too many noticed the thin, elusive thread of wire that was running from the bottoms of Heather's feet up inside Sandra's hand. But they did notice a moment or two later Sandra raise her hand, with the words, "I said, NOW," and press the button, on the other object in her hand.

"AAAHHHH!" Heather shrieked as the jolt in her soles propelled her involuntarily upwards. She heard the big audience response, but couldn't focus on it one bit. Prickly agony swelled in her feet, just beneath the arches—the exact spot which was Sandy's favorite. It felt like they were being poked with a thousand tiny pins. It was a little unclear to Heather what was happening, but anyone else in the room right now could see that there were electrodes on her tender soles, and Sandy had just activated them.

"That's more like it!" Sandy praised her. "You see? Sometimes you have to goad a wild animal a little to get it to cooperate." She pressed the button a second time, but just halfway this time, sending only half a jolt of hell through Heather's hind "paws."

"EEEEKH!" Heather squeaked, performing another small painful hop in the air.

"Now if you'll just be a good little bunny-whore, and keep hippity-hopping, I won't have to do that again," Sandy said convincingly.

It was enough for Heather to understand. She raised herself a few inches on tippy-toe, bent her knees, leaned her body forward and started hopping. Her breasts started to bobble and bounce in all directions, delighting the audience. Sandra indeed guided her by the arm, and she soon felt small bats and splats lightly pelting her as the audience tried to land the eggs in her basket. Some of them seemed to come harder than others. Some of them started to feel like they were deliberately trying to hit her instead of the basket. Oh my God, she thought, ARE they really trying to hit me instead of the basket?

It was hard for her to believe otherwise, especially after the audience's aim went farther and farther off. The first eggs just whapped her in the left arm, left side and left hip, but then the targets expanded to include her stomach, her shoulder, her boob, her leg, her thigh, her foot, her ass cheek, even as far up as the side of her face. Someone popped her one right on the cheek and temple, just narrowly missing her (human) ear. Besides which, one would speculate that to land the eggs in their destination, the audience would lightly toss them under-handed. Some of these really didn't feel like gentle lobs. Some of them were really starting to sting. Laughter from the crowd generated, and then intensified.

Sandra noticed when she got nailed in the cheek. "Oh!...Talk about having egg on your face!" she laughed.

The game was also torturing her psychologically as well as physically, having to pause momentarily just to take quick, necessary breaths through her nose, having to just hope the pauses would be short enough to avoid the pedal electrocution. Eventually, they reached the far side of the room where the center audience sat, and Sandra spun her around to guide her back. And the audience continued literally egging her on. Heather had been wrong. The worst, she could (figuratively) see, was from far over. This was too humiliating for words. Heather couldn't remember when anyone had ever thrown such derision and ridicule upon her before. The trip back was made even worse by the trail of cracked eggs left there in the first half of the game. Heather actually broke and cracked a lot of the eggs when her feet came down on them, which also provoked small pings of pain. She did a certain amount of wincing and cringing on the way back.

The Bunny Trail felt endless. She was almost the rest of the way back when the worst part happened. Just when she was beginning to think this couldn't be any worse, she made one of the last hops, and she landed on a half-broken egg in just such a way that when her feet squashed it and cracked it open, she slipped on it. She lost her balance, the egg's contents squirted out from under her, and then so did her feet. She slid out of Sandy's grip, let out a yelp and plummeted to the floor, on her hands, which were behind her back. The crowd gave her a low "ohhhhh," feeling her pain on that one. Miraculously, just the way she fell, the basket landed right-side up, and none of the eggs inside tumbled out.

"Oh, no!" exclaimed Sandy to the empathetic audience. "Our bunny's had a slip!"

Thank goodness the rug was soft. They got her back on her paws. When she finally got back to the other side of the room where she started, Sandra let go of her arm and gave her an enthusiastic "Yay!" leading the audience in applause for her. Heather bent down on her knees to catch her breath and give her feet a break. Sandra took her sticky arm, uncuffed her sticky hand, removed the sticky basket and recuffed her.

"Now let's see," said Sandy as Heather tried to circulate oxygen. "You got..." She counted them. "...one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine...ten eggs!" Some of them were in pieces, but the contents added up to the equivalent of ten whole eggs. The audience cheered and applauded again.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, I'd say that deserves a reward, wouldn't you?" Sandra proclaimed. She lifted Heather's chin up to see her tearful eyes and her red cheeks pleading for mercy.

"Open wide," said Sandy. Heather stretched her mouth open as wide as it would go, and Sandy plucked out the carrot.

"Oh!" heaved Heather in relief, throwing her breath out.

Sandra patted her on the shoulder. "Breathe...breathe..." she advised, fake-nurturingly. "Just take a little rest. We're gonna let you relax a few minutes."

"Oh...th-...tha-...ank...you..." Heather puffed out between wheezes.

They gave the audience a short intermission. Lou came out from behind the camera and starting getting the eggshells swept up. They would of course thoroughly vacuum and shampoo the rug later, as always.

About eight minutes later, the shoot resumed. "Welcome back, gals and guys!" Sandy called to them. She had taken the electrodes off Heather's feet, toweled her off, and refilled the basket with a different arrangement of items and brought it back out on stage. "We've two more games to play with our bunny here this evening, my friends. The next one...is called Funny Bunny. And for it I'm going to need two volunteers."

Several audience members let out excited "ooh!"s and raised their hands. "Okay, now we're not going to reveal who you are to our bunny," explained Sandy. "We can't have her being able to expect anything or anybody in particular—that could compromise the fun of the game." She looked around. "Um...let's see, how about..." She chose a young lady and a young man, around Heather's age, give or take. "...you, and...you. Why don't you two come with me..." The audience gave the volunteers a small ovation as Sandy brought them back over to Heather.

"Okay, bunny, why don't you go ahead and lay down, on your back," instructed Sandy, taking her arms and helping her down to the floor. "Something tells me that might be a refreshing change for you."

Even though her capabilities of coherent speech were no longer impeded by a jumbo orange vegetable, Heather didn't say anything. She had no idea how she felt anymore. This experience had taken a turn for the surreal for her. She just sank into the soft, inviting rug, carefully lowering herself, placing her hands flat, palms-down, on the floor, feet pointed to the audience. Once she was down, Sandy instructed, "Okay, you two, go ahead and sit on either side of our bunny, I'll be down here." The volunteers sat where she asked. Sandy sat in front of Heather's feet, at an angle so as to not obscure anyone's view, the three of them forming a triangle around Heather's body. "All right, bunny," she said, "This is the reason you're blindfolded. And the reason we took the carrot out of your mouth. Here's how we play this one. My two accomplices here and I are going to be tickling you."

Heather shut her eyes tight under the blindfold. "Oh no-o-o-o..." she moaned.

Sandra laughed. "Don't worry. We're not going to torture you." She smiled and silently winked at the volunteers. "What we're going to do is simply tickle several areas of your body, with a collection of different tools. We're each going to be using the same implement each time, for fifteen seconds, and when we finish, you're going to have to guess what the implement was."

Heather didn't say anything for a second. That actually almost sounded like fun, but still seemed more like not fun.

"Got it?" asked Sandra.

Heather nodded slowly and helplessly. Part of her wanted to ask her to repeat the rules, and if she did, ask her to repeat them again, and again and again, just to postpone, but that wouldn't exactly get her out of this. One of the volunteers stroked a finger along her ribcage, making her snicker and wriggle.

"Hey. No jumping the gun," smiled Sandy. "Are you ready for the first implement, bunny?"

Heather let out a little whine. "Ready as I'll ever be..."

"Excellent," said Sandy. "Audience, reaction kept to a minimum during the tickling, please...no revelation of the implements. Thank you very much. And volunteers, please tickle with nothing but the implement currently in play." They nodded. She put an obligatory finger to her lips and quietly reached into the basket. Heather kept her head still to avoid conspicuity, but she tried to look down to see if she could detect anything under the blindfold. But even if she could, it would be of no use; all she would have seen would be the basket. The first item of three Sandra produced from it was...coincidentally enough, carrots. She gave one to each of them, put the finger back to her lips, then counted silently with her fingers, one, two, three...and off they went on her.

Without any warning or notice to prepare her, Heather broke out in wild laughter. Her head dropped back behind her on the floor. The ever-active audience cheered at her laughter. The two volunteers almost started raucously laughing too, but held their laughter inside. Sandy was taking care of Heather's feet—finally getting to find out just how truly ticklish her lovely tootsies were, holding on to the cuffs to keep her from going anywhere—and the volunteers were covering every inch they could of her upper body, about to break out into their own hysterics. And not without reason; no one could look at the smiles on Sandy's and their faces and not smile themselves.




How to Break a Bad Rabbit



Sandra watched Lou for the cue. After the fifteen seconds, he signaled her. "And...stop!" said Sandy. Once the tickling was over, Heather took an enormous breath and threw her heaving breasts into the air and back down, prompting a few excited whoops from the crowd. All the action and contact was actually beginning to stiffen her nipples just a bit. When she settled back down and exhaled, her cotton tail detached from her bottom.

"Oh, you rascaly rabbit!" Sandy said, tsk'ing her with a finger. "You laughed your ass off!"

Heather blushed in embarrassment as the audience took another moment to laugh themselves. "Okay, Heather, our little slut-bunny," teased Sandy, "What do you think those were?"

Heather was so worn out she could barely think. "Uhhhhhhhhh..." she groaned, "...no fucking idea."

"Why, those were carrots!" exclaimed Sandy, prompting another laugh from the audience. "You sad little bunny, you don't even know a carrot when you feel it! Shame on you!" she playfully chided her, giving her a light smack on the leg.

Yet another laugh. Embarrassing, yes, but no more embarrassing than a lot of what had happened so far this eventful evening. "Okay, no points so far!" announced Sandra. "Next tickle tool!"

The next thing she gave them was a couple of ballpoint pens, already clicked out. Those of course gave them the opportunity to give Heather some more little not-quite-tattoos, doodling little words and pictures on her. When they finished with the pens, Sandy asked her, "All right, bunny, what were those?"

"Ehhh..." Heather was still finishing laughing. "They...they felt like pens."

"That's correct!" shouted Sandy. A big wave of applause followed. "That's one point!" she added.

After the pens logically followed small pencils, just sharp enough to emphatically tickle but just dull enough not to injure her. She guessed them correctly as well, but unfortunately for her, those were almost all the correct guesses she ended up with. In due course they worked their way through four-tined forks, goose feathers, letter openers, hairbrushes, toothbrushes, and full-size feather dusters. Some carried more severity than others, but all of them made Heather adorably surrender under uncontrollable laughter. Finally, not least but last, they went to town on her just with their fingers, which she was definitely able to guess.

"Yay! And that's Funny Bunny! Let's have a hand for our volunteers!" said Sandra, again to tremendous applause when they were done the second time. The audience once again settled down. "Okay, my bunny, you got three correct out of ten in Funny Bunny. Now, here's the deal: we set aside the rest of the time for you this evening to finish game three, in the event you got all ten right in Funny Bunny. You got three, so we're going to give you eighteen minutes. You get it? It's six minutes per correct answer. Just be glad you got some correct at all. If you hadn't gotten any of them, you don't want to know what we would have had to do to you," she said with a lovely smile and a chuckle that made Heather very nervous. "Oh yes, and you also got ten eggs in Bunny Trail, so that's eighteen plus ten, so we're going to give you 28 minutes total for the third game.

"Are you ready to find out what it is?" she asked Heather saucily after a moment.

The audience was silent.

Getting more anxious, Heather made herself say, "I...I guess so."

"All right, little rabbit friend...Easter Bunny game number three..." She paused for dramatic effect. "...is called...Fatal Attraction."

The audience's reaction was as chilling as Sandra's voice. They let loose a chorus of whistles, "uh-oh"s and "OH NO"s.

Heather squeaked like a mouse. She started quivering and trembling on the floor.

"Okay, now, the first thing you need to know is that we're most certainly NOT going to kill you," Sandra smiled. "Nor are we going to throw you in a cauldron of boiling water. Would you like to know what our Fatal Attraction entails?"

Heather emitted a high-pitched moaning sound.

"Well, I'll tell you." Sandy stretched out cat-like and lowered herself to her side next to Heather, propping her head up on her elbow. "In Fatal Attraction, my dear..." She was saying the game's name several times, for the sole purpose of instilling fright in her. "...First of all, my loving husband Lou is going to join me on stage and we will all be playing it together." She turned back to Lou. "Hon?"

Lou handed her a very specific device, which she held up for the crowd to see.

Sandra started to ask, "How many people know what we've got here?" but she didn't get past the word "know." As soon as she asked the first half of the question and showed it to them, the audience blew up in a big cheer.

"We-ell!" a pleased Sandy called back to Lou. "Apparently they all do!" Laughter accompanied the cheers. "Guess that just leaves our little virgin bunny then," she said, leaning down to leer into her face. "Let me ask you something, Bugs..." she said.

The audience chuckled. Heather realized Sandy meant her.

"If I say the name...Hitachi...does that mean anything to you?"

Heather's eyes shifted back and forth under the blindfold. Wasn't that a grill or something? she thought. "Ummm..." she stammered, stalling for a bit of time, "...it...uh...sounds Japanese?..."

"That's right, very good!" Sandy congratulated her. "And now if I say the words 'magic wand,' does that tell you anything?"

Oh. Maybe it wasn't a grill. "Uhhh..." Her mind conjured something whimsical up. "...you're going to pull me out of a hat?"

This time everybody, the audience, Sandy and Lou, all laughed.

"Oh, you are a package!" Sandy giggled. "How can you not love this girl?" she asked the audience. "She is such a card!"

That gave Heather her next guess. "...you're going to do a card trick?"

"Silly rabbit," she scolded her. "Tricks are for kids." The audience laughed again. It was turning into a bit of a comedy show. "Okay, no, but seriously," Sandy continued, "I could tell you what this Hitachi magic wand is, but instead, I think it would be more fun to show you first, and then tell."

Heather didn't have anything left to say or do now. Sandra went on, "Lou, come join us. Ladies and gentlemen, my lovely husband, Louis Burton!"

The crowd applauded yet once more. Sandy handed him the magic wand, sat up, grabbed the basket, dragged it back over near Heather and said, "A'right, bunny, now allow me to explain about Fatal Attraction."

Heather gulped. That name just frightened her. Heaven only knew why...

"It's time to give our audience their money's worth," she heard Sandy say. Then she felt something in between her knees which seemed to be pushing her thighs apart. Then she heard her say, "Lou, show her."

Her feet still together but the rest of her legs spread a little from each other, Lou flipped on the magic wand and touched it to her. And predictably, Heather starting going crazy. Her nipples were already semi-erect from the tickling, and now with the juice starting to flow to her pussy, her fearful hesitation and reluctance to this point had transformed into fearful arousal. She realized that, amazing as it seemed, she was being sexually turned on against her will. She relinquished her resistance and willpower, gave in, and moaned in distressed passion. She'd thought up till now they only wanted to humble and humiliate her, but now, suddenly she realized the other reason she was naked. And cuffed. But after just another second, he turned the wand off again.

"Now, those of you whose view may be blocked may wish to come have a closer look," Sandy encouraged them. The audience got up from their seats and came closer to kneel, sit and lie nearer Heather.

"Listen up, bunny...Fatal Attraction is going to test your powers of concentration," Sandra explained to her. "Now before we go any further, I have a question for our lovely guests this evening...who here feels like they could use a bit of luck?"

A bit of tittering followed, a few audience members raising their hands.

"Okay, how about the two of you..." said Sandra, pointing to a different young man and young lady raising their hands sitting down by Heather's legs. "...since you want a little luck, you can rub the rabbit's feet."

Heather curled her toes and scrunched up her feet.

Sandra went on. "Because just by tic—oh, see?" she said, pointing to her scrunching feet. "Just by tickling her, I'm pretty positive this bunny has VERY sensitive little paws." She turned back to Heather. "Don't you?" she asked, running her index finger hard up the bottom of her foot. Heather laughed wildly.

"Huh? Don't you? Huh?" Sandra continued teasing her, alternatingly raking both her soles with her finger, driving Heather crazy. She made her guffaw just a few seconds later, then finally went on. "Okay, now for the rest of the explanation. Heather, you've got 28 minutes...to come...to a nice little bunny-gasm."

She paused. Heather didn't say anything for the moment, so she went on. "Now Lou, and our two volunteers, are going to help you. These two helpers of ours are going to rub your paws, and Lou's going to put the wand on you. What I'm going to go is distract you. How, you'll find out when we get started. We're also going to need a timekeeper. Would anyone like to volunteer to keep track of the time for us?"

Some more hands were raised. "Hmm...how about...you, sir," said Sandy to another fellow, who was wearing a digital watch. "Okay, good. Now listen up, bunny, 'cause here're the twists of the game. Lou's gonna have the wand, like I said, on your little bunny-pussy, but...it's going to be repeatedly turned on and off at random."

Heather swallowed, not liking the sound of that.

"You two, just go ahead and regularly massage her paws," she told the foot-rubbers. "We could mediate that too if we wanted to give her a little extra challenge, but it's her debut with us, she's our virgin, so we're gonna go a little easy with her. Not extremely easy..." said Sandra, putting a finger to her lips as she reached into the basket one more time, "...but a little..."

Holding the finger to her lips, she took out the gnawed carrot, the same one that spent all the time in Heather's mouth, put it down, tapped the finger on her lips for emphasis, reached in the basket again and retrieved the very last item. It was a Violet Wand in the shape of a candle. The audience provided some intense facial reactions, but honored her request and kept silent. "Last rule, bunny: our 28-minute round of Fatal Attraction will bring our presentation this evening to a close. In the event you do not manage to reach your orgasm in 28 minutes, I'm afraid that not only will you not be allowed to come at all...but, your $1400 for the shoot will be donated to the audience to divide up however they see fit."

The crowd cheered loudly one more time, but not loudly enough to drown out Heather screeching, "WHAT?!"

"Ah—!" Sandra put her finger now to Heather's lips. "The bunny is not allowed to speak during this game. Moans, giggles and screams are permitted. Words are not."

Heather began uttering, "But-but-but-..." Sandra cut her off. "Is everybody ready??" she called out. The crowd affirmatively began cheering and clapping. Sandra pointed to the gentleman with the watch. "Timekeeper, please count down ten seconds to the top of the next minute and note the time for us."

"Okay..." he said. "You want me to give you a countdown when it's over, or...?"

"No, that won't be necessary," she said. "Just say, 'Time up!'"

They waited another fifteen or twenty seconds, then he counted, "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one...zero!"

Lou activated the Hitachi and started massaging her with it, and the lucky volunteers starting rubbing her feet. Heather dropped her head again and started moaning and squirming. Sandra gave her the first two minutes free, then leaned down towards her with the carrot. "Open wide," she said in a playful, sing-songy voice.

Heather thoughtlessly obeyed her, but also wondering open wide why exactly. Once she opened her mouth just a bit wider, Sandy jammed the carrot down into it again. Heather reacted with a start and began to shout muffled protests, but that was why Sandy had the Violet Wand in her other hand. Lying on Heather's right side, she let the tip of the Wand rest on her right nipple. It lit up with an orange flame-like electric surge and made a bzzzt! sound.

Heather screamed through the carrot. She tried to spit it out, but it had been lodged too deep. She tried to shout at Sandra, but that too was to no avail. Holy shit! So THAT was what Mrs. Sandy meant by saying she was going to "distract" me? she thought incredulously. Did she say "distract" or "destroy"?? Goddamn it, that HURT! She wanted to bend her head down to soothe her nipple with her mouth, but she couldn't reach. Besides, the massaging her pussy and feet were receiving was already taking her mind back off the pain.

Another couple of minutes passed, and soon Heather couldn't even remember having her delicate titty electrocuted. Around minute four, she still felt the tender loving rub on her paws, but the Hitachi wand switched off.

What the—? She was starting to enjoy that! She raised her head. "Mmmmph?!" she said.

The audience responded with delight. Lou and Sandy chuckled. "Ah, ah, ah, we warned you, bunny," Sandy reprimanded her patronizingly, tickling her under the chin. Heather let her head drop back down on the floor with a whimper. But after another short while, the wand turned on again and slowly, degree by degree, she started to become turned on again.

And then at minute five, she felt the other Wand again. The scary one. The painful one. On her black-painted bunny nose.

"Errrrggghh!" she squealed, turning her face away, feeling more tears being brought on, from the physical agony this time.

Oh, this was not fun at all. Nor was it funny, to her, yet the audience was of course enjoying it a great deal. She'd just start to get used to the massage, and enjoy it again, for three seconds, then bzzzt! Pain! On her side, her cheek, her tummy, her arm, her (indigenous) ear...around minute eight, the intervals of the Hitachi started to become shorter as well. It clicked on and off every what seemed like thirty seconds or so. It was beginning to drive Heather utterly insane. She was starting to writhe on the floor.

Around minute ten, Sandra pulled the carrot from her mouth, but then she shoved it back in again. She started to lift her head, but Sandra pushed it back down ramming the carrot into her throat. And ramming. And ramming.

"SUCK your carrot, slut-bunny!" she ordered demandingly. "Suck it like the wretched fucking little whore you are!"

Oh my good God! her mind exclaimed. Sandra was ramming the carrot down into her mouth, again and again, almost triggering her gag reflex. She remembered when it was lodged into her mouth the other way, and tried to concentrate on breathing through her nose. But trying to get a good breath started right now was anything but easy.

Minute twelve. The audience was cheering her on. The vibrator was still going on and off and making her crazy. Sandy pulled the carrot fully from her mouth and whapped her in the face with it. Her own saliva smacked her cheek.

"Aaaaooow..." Heather whined, starting to say "ouch" before she remembered she wasn't allowed to talk.

"You worthless little cunt-rabbit!" Sandra reproached her. "You call yourself a bunny. Pathetic! You can't even suck a carrot! No wonder you lost your boyfriend! Just a filthy little brat! You're just begging to be dick-slapped! You want me to fuck you with this instead??"

One half of Heather's mind was thinking, Hey, lady, you're really hurting my feelings! Her parents may have yelled at her a lot, but at least they never hit her, or called her a cunt or a whore. The other half, however, in response to the inquisitive end of this little rant, was thinking, ACTually... The idea of sticking anything up her vagina—especially food—that had been in her mouth and throat did seem unpleasant, but right about now, her time was almost halfway up, and if it would stay down there, penetrating her at a good, steady, regular rate, and not switching on and off like this Hitachi wand from hell, it could be a carrot, a penis, a remote control or a bar of soap and she'd be game. The verbal abuse was merely an act, purely for entertainment purposes, but Heather didn't know that. The cruel words were starting to make her feel degraded and down on herself. This was that same sweet woman she met at her office?

Minute fifteen. The halfway mark had been passed. She was squirming and wriggling, praying the Hitachi would stay on—and stay on her—then she had a terrifying thought. What if whatever that source of agony was, was applied to her pussy? Her entire body tensed and shivered just thinking about it. She just had to pray that didn't happen. So far, the Hitachi had stayed right there on her clit and not moved (although it had started and stopped pleasuring her about a dozen excruciating times), but would it continue to stay there for the rest of this "game"? At least she had the continuous and constant comfort of the paw-rubbing. She really wasn't giving these two who were massaging her feet enough credit. They were good at what they were doing.

Minute eighteen, and Hitachi on or off, Heather was in fact really starting to get turned on. Her head was rolling around, her hands were flexing into fists, her back was arching, her toes were curling and flexing, and her heartbeat rate was increasing. A few more random times, the Hitachi would cut off, and/or Sandra would shock her somewhere with the Violet Wand—it didn't matter so much exactly where—but even the Violet Wand's surging lightning was somehow beginning to light her up. She couldn't explain it; it made no sense or logic. The electrocution hurt like hell, and yet...was jolting her juices into motion.

Minute twenty. The audience were on the edge of their (figurative) seats. Many of them were starting to get pretty turned on as well. Had Sandy or Lou or the two rubbing Heather's feet looked up or around them, they would have seen a number of audience members rubbing and fondling themselves to the display. Some were mostly turned on by the nudity, some by the bondage, some by Heather's whole submission, some by the clit-vibrating, some by the electrocution. Heather herself could barely have cared less at the current moment. Actually, she couldn't even remember the crowd was there.

By minute twenty-two, she was starting to mentally plead for any sort of physical contact on her genitalia that would take place. Suddenly losing the feel of either wand was now making her angry. Sandy was striking her with more contemptuous words of disgrace and indignity, but she wasn't hearing them or caring very much anymore. Sandy put the carrot in her mouth, and before it got too far down, she did bite right through it.

"Well, well, well!" a surprised Sandra told the crowd. "Seems our bunny's starting to get pretty hungry!"

"Hungry" would about cover it at this point, yes. At minute twenty-four, Heather was flopping about the rug like a fish out of water, giving her lungs quite a workout with her moaning, and emitting a highly displeased growling sound when she lost the good vibes. She could tell what made this game so challenging. But she was getting determined. She knew she couldn't have had too much time left, but she had made up her mind. She wasn't going home without her orgasm (not to mention her pay).




How to Break All the Cybersex Rules



Ever wondered how nice, normal people wander into the world of cybersex? Ever wondered what cyber is, how it feels, why people bother? Here's my personal journey, written at the time and annotated later! 

I hope that you enjoy reading and get a new perspective. I realize that some of my advice/ hints go against the grain, but, hey, I broke the rules and ended up happy as a clam!!

=================

Foreword-

I am a nice person, I swear! I've been married for 15 years, never cheated, and I love my sweetie husband SO much!! I live in hope that our hot sex life will come back, but for now we seem to be in a holding pattern. How long since we've um, done it? A YEAR and counting! And the past 8 years haven't been that hot, either...but I live in hope, remember what we had, and...well, I already said live in hope, right? Here's where my journey began, six months ago that feels like a lifetime!

=================

"Boy, do I feel dumb. I was feeling lonely and went online to an adult chatroom and invited the first person who said hi to me to private chat. Even though he was hanging out in the Japan chatroom, he was from somewhere in Europe, very polite, not great English. I am ashamed to admit that I started to feel bad for him for having to chat about my job and pets, and suggested we have some sexy chat...next thing I know (yes, I clicked the accept button, but I didn't know what I was doing!) I was staring at his giant **** on a webcam . Since he was (obviously) ready to go and happy to have been asked, I gave it the old college try, with the predictable results...then we said goodbye and I thought...well, that was fine, not the guy for me, but maybe if I can find someone who is better at English and typing with one hand, no webcam and more imagination, this cybersex thing is not all that bad... "

=================

Note to those who have read this far...I STRONGLY recommend keeping your cyberfrolics one-on-one, at least at first!!!!! What do I mean by this? DON'T bring any third parties, real or imaginary, into the special world that the 2 of you are creating. If that is your freaky thing, feel out the situation and wait 'til there is a good level of trust before telling stories involving third persons or having a virtual orgy...for many cyberpartners, the intimacy that comes from having a virtual playspace with someone who knows and understands them is very healing...risk that at your own, well, risk!

My best advice about the "HOW" is to, beyond all other considerations, try to start out with someone sympathetic and expressive! Lit is a GREAT place to find a the right match. If you are female, just make up a sexy username and when offers come in (and they will!), check out the person's story submissions and profile, then, when you're too hot to resist, send a friendly private message.

If you're a guy, find a woman who has written a story that appeals to you and write and compliment her!! 

If you need it bad, you can get it anytime by contacting random people who are online, but if your needs/ preferences don't match, you may well wish you hadn't! In any case, be kind...we are all just people with needs, trying to find someone to brighten our days and/ or nights.

OK, enough of a lecture, back to the journey!

=================

"Then, back to another chatroom, this one less general and more "I need it bad, right now" type (I know, I know, what was I thinking??). Again I intelligently invited the first guy who said hi to private chat and again there was this weird 30 minutes of polite talk about my pets and favorite music (I thought the first guy was just shy...NOT). Me (now that I've read this forum, I know that I was acting like a major cyber-ho), thinking to speed things up a tad, suggest that perhaps we should cut to the chase a bit, and next thing I know we're virtually doing the deed...No webcam this time, thank goodness, and the guy was nice enough to explain that his "endowment" was very average (not nearly as scary as what I found myself landed with the first time), and he was very sweet...He asked me to be his Net GF, whatever the heck that might entail, and I said sure...we said 'bye. and I sent him a note to say hi and thanks...me and my ideas of netiquette! I think I actually got a virtual crush on him, or, more accurately, on my image of him, since I have no idea what he might be like in person. He replied that night and said he is coming to my country and let's spend the weekend together and lots of "honey" and "sweetie" and "my girl"...and I started wondering what exactly I had agreed to! I made an appointment to meet him at a certain time a few days later to talk, thinking that I would be able to explain how clueless I had been."

====================

WOW! I was SO shocked and clueless! Read on for the 7 lessons I learned PDQ!

NOTES- 1) On privacy!

This was a VIRTUAL appointment to meet him...be VERY cautious about giving out personal info if you don't want your new paramour to show up on your doorstep with flowers...the power of cyber is...powerful! 

2) On the uses and misuses of technology!

Guys, I know that you love to show off and get excited by the thought of a woman looking at you, but to be 100% honest, the brain is the most powerful sex organ. I know that you spent good money on that webcam, but that doesn't mean you have to use it indiscriminately! If she wants to see, she'll beg! Maybe she never will...maybe that's ok!

Try it without the technology first. If you are very verbal, very aural (no, I did not misspell that...look it up!), and have a decent imagination, I VERY much doubt that you will need anything more.

There are plenty of voyeuristic women out there if you find that you feel the lack of a look...but try it without first, just to check! There is something about the imagination that makes us get, um, close up and personal. Trust me on this for now.

3) On honesty!

- Guys, we are WOMEN! We are interested in YOU, your hopes, your dreams, your fears, your heart! Share at least a bit...who knows? You might find a soulmate on the internet, in the most improbable of ways. At the very least, maybe you can make someone's day.

-Women, they are GUYS...they get overexcited and pushy at times. TELL your cyberpartner if you are feeling weird or if they are turning you off rather than on...guys aim to please, and also understand that you might have things in your real life that you might need to get a guy's perspective on...just don't bore their sox off!

-A note about bodies: 

Piece of advice #1- you can have perfectly good mindblowing cybersex WITHOUT describing your equipment! A nice penis is hard, beautiful, thrilling. A nice vulva is wet, lovely, willing. Don't get into the measurements if you don't want to...you MIGHT find serious compatibility issues, and why lose a potential orgasm, or a potential cybersoulmate, over something so pedestrian?

Piece of advice #2- If you must get into the nitty-gritty, be honest! Guys, there are women out there who would be ripped to shreds by a 10-inch penis. If yours is 5 1/2, TELL her...she might be thrilled! Women, there ARE (believe me!) guys out there who will get super-excited by your A-cups...don't make up an internet body...many, many people like the velvety, erotic feel of a soft, voluptuous waist or the tickly feeling of a hairy back. You are YOU! Be proud of your body, love it, enjoy the feelings you can get and give, and never, never change it just because it doesn't match someone's mental image.

(if I sound like a crusader, maybe it's because I finally got sick of trying to be a shy, submissive girl who keeps her handbag well-organized and never, never asks for what she wants...and guess what? Once I decided I liked what I liked and that my body was a source of pleasure and that I should be grateful instead of trying to change it, I have felt a heck of a lot better about myself!)

4) On prejudice!

As far as I am personally concerned (and for those who are wondering, YES, I have talked about this with my [hopefully temporarily] out-of-comission husband), cybersex is NOT cheating!! In fact, it might well be the last resort of the super-faithful. If you are not comfortable doing the virtual deed with someone who's attached, just say no. This goes back to being honest...if they ask if you are married or connected, by all means give them the (short version of the sad and depressing) story. 

A note about stereotypes- Piece of advice #1- check them at the door! You can have mindblowing cyber with someone across the world, half your age, from a different culture, with limited English, of the opposite gender, or differently abled. If it works, it works, don't limit yourself.

Piece of advice #2- free your mind, and the rest will follow! 'nuff said!

4) On preferences!

DO ask, DO tell...if you have had a history of editing your wants/ needs/ desires in real-life relationships, now's your chance!! Just make sure that you don't bore their sox off, and keep it mutual...your partner may have unmet needs, too.

A few ideas, for what they are worth-

-if you wish you had lost your virginity differently, lose it again, with your cyberpartner.

-if there's something you've always wanted to do, but you're too shy, do it.

-if you had a bad experience in your past, and IF you have a trustworthy and compatible cyberpartner, suggest re-experiencing it...let your Net boyfriend smash that guy's face in and rescue you!

5) On love! Make sure to be sweet to one another!!! Pet names, cuddling before and after, caring and love...these are what make life worthwhile, and just what might make the difference in someone's life, so don't be stingy with your heart or your hugs!

6) On c'c'c'commitment!

Consider an exclusive online relationship...aka Net BF/ GF. Cyberfidelity is NOT a dirty concept! Of course you need it bad, or you would not be loving the cyber, but if you are NOT exclusive, just tell your partners so they don't get (cyber) hurt. Sorry to tell you, folks, but cybersex can be very emotionally real. Wouldn't you really rather be monogamous in real life AND in the parallel universe of cyberspace? If your answer is "NO WAY!", fine...just give your partner a clue that that's where you are coming from!

7) On this brave new world!

Keep it real, or, rather, keep it virtual! For a sensitive heart there is nothing worse than having your newfound online soulmate interrupt the hot online sex by constantly complaining that they would rather be doing it in person, or that what they REALLY want is to come to your town and attack you. Real is real, cyber is cyber. Keep them separate. Appreciate what you've got. Quit wishing for more. Don't get obsess-y! Remember, taking pleasure as it comes is fine, it is the attachment to and pursuit of pleasure that leads to trouble.

=================

Wow, what a long digression! Back to my journey-

=================

"Next day both guys are IMing me at all hours of the day and night, clamoring for more where that came from. I put them off as nicely as I knew how, and Mr. Crush/ Be My Net GF didn't show up for our meeting, probably because I wouldn't "do it" at 3 am when I had to work early the next day. 

The thing that people should know, and I had no clue about, is that I seem to be having the same emotions as if all of this had happened for real. 

Fortunately, I learned how to block them, but gosh-o-gosh I honestly had no idea and feel like I just stumbled into a whole 'nother world. 

In real life, believe it or not, I am a responsible adult with a busy job and a conservative lifestyle...but online I managed to break all the rules without knowing there were any and now I feel like cybervixen."

=================

*Note on all of the above- This advice is coming from someone who DID meet her net BF...and is very glad she did! And NO we didn't cheat! But that's a story for another day! 

=================

The moral of the story...cybersex ROCKS!

...to be continued!



How to Break the Ice



Here's a little (okay, actually it's pretty long) story about love in the wintertime. 

It's about two people who manage to melt the ice between them. It's also about ice fishing (seriously). I wrote it as a tribute to the Canadian winter which I am currently in the midst of.

I hope you all enjoy! As always, I welcome feedback and comments.

All the best, Leora

***

They'd spent the last two hours bumping along the rough, gravel road in their rented four by four. Rebecca cursed as her head slammed into the side window for the fifth time. 

"Are we almost there?" she asked.

"I think so, the directions said we follow this road to the end then take a left onto a new road, that's ones supposed to be really bad, then drive another kilometer and we're there!" Leah replied brightly, clutching the printed directions in her hand.

"Wooo-hoo! Eagle Ridge here we come!" Tom shouted as he maneuvered the car around a particularly large dip in the rutted road.

"Yeah, I can't wait. No internet, no cable, just lots and lots of...snow. Sweet" Rebecca grumbled.

She'd initially been looking forward to this trip. They'd been planning it for months now. The cabin that they'd rented online was always booked and scoring it for a week in November had necessitated booking in late August. The thing was, in late August she and Liam had still been together. More than that, they'd been deliriously happy. The idea that they might not still be together in November had never crossed her mind. Now she was stuck spending a week in a cabin with her best friend and her best friend's boyfriend. She loved Leah and Tom but she knew watching them cuddle in front of the fire or soak in the hot tub was not going to be easy. At least she had this weekend to look forward to. This weekend they'd invited a few other friends to come and join them at the cabin so it was really just the Monday to Friday drag that she had to survive. 

She was grateful she had remembered to bring her camera. She was looking forward to taking some great shots of the scenery up here. Photography was one of the few things that had kept her sane after she'd found out Liam was cheating on her—with one of her colleagues at Sweet, the fashion and lifestyle magazine she worked at, no less. Well, photography and alcohol. Oh, and hagen dazs. She knew she's become quite a cliché, drunkenly crying into her ice cream bowl night after night, watching trash reality TV, but she didn't care. Going to work every day and seeing the bitch that Liam had cheated on her with was no treat either. It had already been a bit of a trial there, she hated her managing editor and she knew the skills she'd picked up in journalism school and in the three unpaid internships she'd been forced to do afterwards to pad her resume were being wasted writing blurbs about mascara and miracle creams. She used to love reading Sweet...before she'd started working there. 

She felt the truck turn onto a new road. They hadn't lied, this one was actually worse than the last one. She felt grateful she didn't get carsick...usually. She opened the window a crack to dissipate some of the stream that had built up inside the car from the defrost they'd been blasting. The cold air refreshed her immediately. It smelled ridiculously fresh out here, nothing like her downtown neighborhood where she enjoyed the tang of garbage in the summer and the stink of car exhaust and spilled fuel on dirty snow-drifts in the winter. She loved the city but sometimes she felt totally cut off from the world—the real world—in her glassed in downtown condo. 

"We're here!!" Leah squealed, popping open the passenger side door. 

Rebecca opened her door and stepped out into the crisp air. It was a beautiful afternoon and the sun glinted off of every snow-covered surface. The cabin was just as gorgeous as the pictures had promised. It was really a glorified log cabin, big enough to sleep up to ten people comfortably. Made from long, fitted slats of red pine, weathered to a beautiful finish and trimmed with red paint around each of the huge picture windows—it couldn't have been more charming. Towering trees stretched as far as the eye could see to the right of the house while on the left a towering granite rock face provided a stunning backdrop. Rebecca smiled. 

Yeah, I can do this, she thought. 

They took a few minutes to wander around the wrap-around deck to the front of the house. The deck became even larger at the back, with room for a table and chairs and a large hot tub. It was the view that really took Rebecca's breath away. The cabin was perched on a slight hill overlooking an enormous, sparkling frozen lake covered with what looked to be at least a foot of packed snow. Small, colorful ice fishing huts dotted the lake, some with smoke curliqueing out of the chimneys. In the distance, a line of dark pines marked the edge of the lake. It was amazing. Rebecca had a vague memory of going ice fishing with her dad when she was little and the huts called to her begging her to take their picture, to capture this perfect winter wonderland. 

"Pretty great, eh?" Tom said, coming up to stand next to her.

"Yeah, it's pretty great," she replied smiling. 

A car rumbled up the drive and they walked back around front in time to see a smiling, heavy-set woman bundled up in a brightly colored wool coat step out of its driver side door.

"Hello! You must be Rebecca," she said extending her hand. "Welcome! We're so glad you decided to come here. I just came by to give you guys the keys and then I'll get out of your hair, I'm sure you're keen to get settled after that long, bumpy ride," she handed Rebecca a keychain with a big fake moosehead on the end.

"Thanks, you must be Mrs. Mitchell, it's so great to put a face to the voice. The place is beautiful."

"Oh it is, I know you'll have a great time here. If you need anything just give me or my son Ben a holler. Our numbers are next to the phone." She shot them a wide smile, then, good as her word, took off.

"Should we go in and check out the rest?" Rebecca asked. Leah and Tom nodded enthusiastically.

The cabin was just as beautiful inside as out. The main room comprised a kitchen to the left with a large granite island and a table big enough for at least ten and a large, airy living room area in the centre dominated by a huge stone fireplace. Cozy sofas were placed at right angles around the fireplace and a worn antique rug covered the floor. Off to the right of the living room was the master bedroom with an adjoining bathroom while upstairs in the partial loft there were three more bedrooms, two with queen size beds and one with two single bunk beds. Rebecca knew as the only single this weekend she'd be stuck in one of those bunks. 

Oh well, she thought, it's only until Monday when everyone packs off for the week then I can snag a big bed. 

She heard a car rumbling down the driveway and looked out the window to see another black 4 by 4—the only kind of car that could make it on these rough, icy roads—pull into the drive. Four people got out—well, two couples really, James and Riley and Doug and Marc. Despite their presence forcing her into the "kiddie room" she was glad to see them. You could always count on James to be the life of the party and Doug and Marc, two die hard gay-hipsters would definitely be amusing as they adjusted to this more countrified lifestyle for the weekend (well, she reflected looking around the place, not exactly countrified, more like cushy-countrified). Riley, well, Riley was her own thing. She and James had been together for about six months now and if anything, Rebecca would have bet that it would have been them, not her and Liam who wouldn't make it to this November get-away. 

They all settled in with a flurry of suitcase, duffel bags, shopping bags packed with groceries, and twice as much beer and wine as they needed. A big soggy pile of boots lay dripping inside the door and seven parkas were strewn carelessly over the banister. Everyone had come prepared with their fiercest winter gear. They'd read that the cabin was equipped with sleds and other sporting equipment and they were as eager as any city folk off for a weekend in the woods to experience it all...after a few drinks by the fire of course. Rebecca headed upstairs to unpack her stuff, automatically heading into the room with the two bunk beds. 

"Oh my god, this is soooo cute!" Riley squealed, popping her head in the bedroom door. "Don't you love it?"

"Yeah, it's great. I'm really glad we're doing this." She smiled cheerily at Riley, hoping she'd take the hint and disappear. 

"It's not, like, too weird or anything is it? I mean, being here, you know, without Liam? But how cute is this room? I mean, don't you just love bunk beds!?" 

"I guess it is a little weird Riley, I just feel...so sad, like there's a big hole inside my chest and...and...I'm so angry too, you know? I really feel like I just need to get it all out, really vent..." Rebecca pinched her hand behind her back sharply, willing tears to come into her eyes. She knew Riley avoided any kind of genuine emotion like the plague and she hoped the younger girl would leave her alone for the rest of the weekend if she thought she might want to cry and moan about her break-up.

"Ohhh...poor you," Riley said awkwardly, her eyes darting into the hallway, "I guess I'd better go help Jamie unpack, he'll probably just throw everything on the bed, ha ha..." she trailed off as she backed slowly out of the room.

Rebecca sniffed loudly. "Yeah...Liam was just like that..." she wiped her eyes as she pretended to choke back a loud sob. Riley almost ran down the hall in her haste to get away.

Well, that worked like a charm, she thought with satisfaction.

After she'd finished unpacking her small bag she wandered down to the main room, settled into one of the oversize leather armchairs and idly picked through a magazine entitled Outdoorsman. It was pretty much the antithesis of Sweet—chock full of advice on hunting, fishing, snowshoeing, and other rugged activities. The pictures were all of burly men in winter gear or camouflage toting guns, rods or other phallic equipment. There was a section at the back called "The Trophy Wall" where men (and they were all men) posed with their latest kills or catches. Rebecca wasn't a die-hard animal rights crusader, her inability to give up meat or leather really interfered with that, but she still couldn't get her head around the idea of killing things for fun. Or for sport, she supposed she should say. She wondered if any of these guys actually ate what they killed or did they just snap the photo, whack off the head and mount it? As she said this her gaze drifted up to the wall just above the big French doors leading out onto the balcony where a large deer head presided. 

The deer gazed down at her with glassy eyes. It made her vaguely uncomfortable so she decided to go out and take some pictures before the light faded. She pulled on her bulky Sorel's, a warm Canada Goose down jacket, a knitted tuque and her finger-less gloves and stepped outside with her camera around her neck. She walked a little way down the driveway and was about to turn into the woods when she heard someone approaching.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a deep voice said, "if you head in there in those boots you're likely to get stuck in the snow. It's four, five feet deep in places and the ground is uneven. You'd be better off sticking to the road."

She turned to see a man standing a few feet away. He was tall and well-built, at least 6'2", wearing jeans tucked into heavy, studded boots and an old worn plaid flannel jacket. His hands were bare and his shaggy brown hair was tucked most of the way under a blue wool tuque. 

Underneath the dark scruff that covered his cheeks and chin he had strong cheekbones, the picture was completed by a pair of pouty lips and clear blue eyes. His expression, however, wasn't overly friendly and dispelled any thought Rebecca had been forming about him being cute. 

"Oh, well I just wanted to get some pictures of the trees with all the ice on them. I won't go far," she said eyeing him curiously, "are you the caretaker?" When they'd made the booking with "Sandy" they'd heard that her son, Ben, might drop by occasionally to see if they needed anything. He worked as a caretaker for this cabin as well as five others the family owned in the area. 

"Yeah. I'm Ben," he said, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat and leaning back on his heels. Apparently people around here didn't shake hands. 

"I'm Rebecca, I'm part of the group that just arrived..." as she said it she felt idiotic. 

"It's a beautiful place you've got here. We're really excited to explore the area. Do you have any recommendations?"

He stared at her for a moment, seemingly eyeing her up, taking in her pristine boots and coat (that she'd picked up just last month, partly just for this trip, but, she'd reasoned there wasn't anything more practical for a Canadian than a really great pair of boots and a parka).

"Well, I don't really know what you guys are into. There's some equipment in the shed. People always seem to like sledding for some reason, there's a nice big hill just east of here. I guess there's the ski hill too, it's about an hours drive North, they have fancy restaurants and stuff," he said, in a condescending voice. Obviously sledding and skiing were activities only city folk enjoyed. That kind of attitude always set Rebecca off.

Why bother to try and entice people to come out here and enjoy themselves if you're going to judge them the minute they get here? she thought with annoyance. 

"Okay, thanks. I'll let the others know," she said shortly determined not to let Ben make her feel ashamed of not being 'country' enough. 

If he only knew where I grew up. Rebecca thought. 

Her childhood in Pictou County, Nova Scotia hadn't exactly been cosmopolitan. 

He nodded curtly then continued walking towards the house. He turned after a few steps, "Y'know, if you're really determined to get into the woods you could just strap on a pair of snowshoes. They're in the shed." 

"Oh, okay thanks," she called back. Snow-shoes sounded like fun. She'd never tried them before. 

She had visions of the huge birch and hide versions she'd seen in those old educational movies in grade school that taught you all about Mic Mac culture but when she unlocked the shed and looked in she saw ten pairs of small oval shaped shoes with a slight elfin curl at the end made of what looked to be lightweight fiberglass. They had buckles that allowed them to be snuggly fitted onto any kind of boot. She grabbed the nearest pair and strapped them on then practiced walking a bit down the road. They were remarkably easy to use, and much lighter than she'd expected. She decided to test them out properly. She stepped over the drift at the side of the road and gingerly placed her foot onto the packed snow. It held. She began walking slowly. With each step her feet dipped slightly into the crusty snow but she stayed on top. It was amazing, she felt like she was walking on water. So much easier than trudging though the snow! She wondered why she'd never done this before. The late afternoon sun was shining brightly through the trees, and everything was illuminated in a bright wintery sparkle. She could vaguely make out the snow covered shapes of boulders, small bushes, and fallen logs as flashes of brown, green and grey breaking through the white landscape. The tree branches glittered with ice. 

It was so quiet the crunching of her feet on the snow was the only sound. She began taking pictures, letting the branches form architectural patters against the blue sky. She had to change her lens and her setting a few times in order to truly capture the bright, clean snowy vistas.

After a few minutes she stopped, her ears tuning into the sound of boots on the crunchy road. She turned to look and saw Ben headed down the road away from the cabin, whatever task he'd had to do there apparently finished. He seemed to sense her looking as he stopped and met her eyes. Their gazes locked for a minute and she began to feel uncomfortable.

I guess he's the gruff, silent type? she mused.

She was determined not to speak first. She wasn't going to try and win him over just because he'd been rude to her—though that was usually her first instinct—she was a born people pleaser but that was something she'd recently begun to question, especially after a few of the girls form the office had decided to shut her out of their social circle a few months back for no reason at all. She'd spent weeks trying to figure out what she'd done, she'd been sweet and funny to them, even gone so far as to manufacture reasons to help them at work. None of it had worked and she'd gradually given up. Now she'd resolved that if someone didn't like her, fuck it. So she didn't say anything just shot him a 'yes, can I help you?' look. Ben looked a little taken aback but then he smirked, nodded and walked off. 

Whatever, she thought, mentally shaking off the encounter.

She spent the next hour or so enjoying the silent company of the woods. It was so rarely quiet in the city that it felt incredibly strange—wonderfully strange—to be surrounded by such peace. When she eventually got cold and returned to the cabin she found everyone draped on sofas around the fire, drinks in hand.

"There you are! We thought maybe the evil lumberjack had carried you off into the woods!" Marc said snickering.

"Did you meet that guy? What an asshole," Leah said grimacing, "I guess he's the caretaker or something."

"Yeah, I met him on the road. He was kind of an asshole," Rebecca laughed. "What did he want?"

"Oh, he just came by to scowl at us and give us condescendingly obvious advice about how to operate things. He also told us it gets cold here at night...like, newsflash! It's northern Canada motherfucker of course it gets cold here at night," Leah rolled her eyes.

"He was cute though...," Doug broke in, "you know, in like a rustic, burly-man way."

"Yeah, you obviously go for the big burly type," Rebecca laughed, gesturing to Marc, whose slight form barely took up one of the sofa cushions on which he was perched. 

"I'm just saying...if you like that kind of thing. Me, obviously, I don't," Doug said, giving Marc a kiss on his cheek.

"Ah, lover. Well, I do like that kind of thing actually. You're a bit of an anomaly for me actually. I usually date men more his type, I had a bit of a bear fetish going on for awhile there y'know," Marc said breezily.

"I saw your last boyfriend Marc, if that was a bear then I'm goldilocks," Jamie broke in laughing.

"Whatever," Marc retorted. 

Rebecca chuckled as she listened to her friends continue to tease each other. She poured herself a glass of red wine and joined them on them around the fire. 

Maybe this week won't be as hard as I thought, she thought.



The next morning Rebecca awoke with a slight hangover. The night had turned into a bit of a party and they'd ended up playing some crazy role playing card game, drinking too much and sitting in the hot tub until three am. It had been fun though. She sat up and immediately hit her head. 

Right, bunk beds.

She eased herself slowly out from the lower bunk and headed to the bathroom. Once she'd gotten dressed and cleaned up she went downstairs to the kitchen. They'd organized the meals by person (or couple really) so each couple was responsible for one meal over the weekend. Jamie and Riley had made dinner last night and this morning it was Rebecca's turn. She'd prepared her staple breakfast treat last night—overnight French toast—and all she had to do now was flip it and throw in the oven. Garnished with some maple syrup and berries, it would be delicious. She started the coffee maker going and got out the milk and cream, setting up a little "coffee station" to the side of the island. Her hangover faded quickly as she drank the strong filtered coffee. She wandered out the side door and onto the deck. She breathed deeply and closed her eyes, allowing the morning sun to warm her face. It was cold out but not unreasonably so, she was perfectly fine for a few minutes in her fleece pajama pants and pullover. 




How to Break the Ice



About twenty minutes later the smell of the French toast in the oven managed to rouse everyone from their beds. They all dug in eagerly to the sweet, mapley goodness as they sat around the table.

"What do you guys want to do today?" Jamie asked around a mouthful of food.

"I want to get out on that lake!" Tom said eagerly.

"Yeah, me too," Rebecca agreed, "if we all put snowshoes on we can probably hike right across it. I'd like to check out some of those ice-fishing huts too. They look pretty cool." 

Everyone nodded their heads in agreement. 

"Okay, well that's settled then. I'll wash up. Do you guys want to head out in like twenty minutes or so?" Rebecca said, eager to get going now that they'd established a plan.

Forty minutes later (two showers, seven people) they were all gathered beside the tool shed strapping on snow-shoes. 

"These are sooo cool," Riley said, trying to do a little dance in hers.

"Yeah, they're great, and they're really easy to use. Wait until you guys try them on the deep snow, it's amazing how quickly you can move in them," Rebecca was in such a good mood even Riley seemed manageable this morning.

They all walked awkwardly down the hill toward the lake. Though the snow-shoes were easy to use they still took a few minutes of getting used to, especially when going downhill. In order not to trip on the front tip of the shoes you had to walk in a but of a side step, it was almost like having two mini snowboards attached to your feet. 

Once they'd emerged onto the flat surface of the lake they all picked up the pace and started off towards the cluster of huts in the center of the lake. Though the huts didn't look that far away from up at the cabin once you were at their level it was actually a fair distance. By the time they'd arrived they were all panting slightly and almost everyone had removed their tuques, stuffing them into their pockets. A few guys were gathered near some of the huts, some on folding lawn-chairs, some standing. All of them looked like versions of Ben. Big guys, wearing worn in clothes, most of them bearded, all of them holding cans of Canadian or Blue in their hands. One of the closest guys called out to them.

"Hey, you guys staying at the Eagle?'

"Yeah, we got in yesterday. Thought we'd check out the lake. How're they biting?" Jamie asked, trying to swagger and sound like he knew what he was talking about despite not having the first clue about fishing, let alone ice fishing. 

Rebecca met Leah's eyes and they both sniggered.

The guy laughed, but in a nice way, "Oh, pretty good. But normally we don't catch much at this time of day, this is mostly drinking time," he said, raising his beer can in a mock salute.

"Right, yeah," Jamie said.

"You guys want one?" One of the other guys gestured to a nearby snow pile in which at least twenty beer cans were nestled.

They all nodded assent. Why not? Rebecca cracked open a can and took a sip. There was something perfectly fitting about sharing a beer with these guys out on the ice. 

It was just like the pictures on the website, Rebecca mused. Wonder if they pay these guys to be nice to tourists? They certainly seem to have the 'local charm' thing down...if they do though, I think someone forgot to pay that Ben guy...

As if her thought had conjured him up Ben appeared from within one of the huts. He was carrying what looked like a large metallic drill, it was curved at the top with two plastic handles. He shot them all a curt nod then placed the tip of the drill, which came up to his shoulder, into the ice. He began to twist it with both hands, and the tip sunk into the hard packed snow. 

"Cool, is he like, drilling a hole?" Riley asked.

One of the guys, who'd introduced himself as Greg, chuckled as he replied, "Yup. Go on over and see if you like."

Riley and Jamie headed over. Rebecca hesitated at first but she wanted to get some action shots so she joined them. She stood just to one side of Ben and watched as he propelled the drill into the thick ice using all of his body weight. 

"Mind if I...," she said, gesturing at her camera.

He looked up and shrugged his shoulders. She began taking pictures, angling up into the blue sky, making Ben and the drill look gargantuan in perspective. The contrast of his red checked jacket against the sky and snow was vivid. 

Gradually he began to slow and then they saw the drill sink a few feet. He pulled it out and smoothed away the snow to reveal a perfect three inch round hole through the ice. The ice was at least two feet thick. The water she glimpsed below was dark and the ice along the sides of the hole was a light, clear blue. He walked over to a pile of equipment and grabbed a lightweight, brightly colored short rod with a flag attached to it. He laid the rod across the hole and sank the line, which was anchored by a small hook and lure, into the hole. 

"How does that work, it's not a regular fishing rod is it? I mean, you don't hold onto it...," Rebecca asked, curious despite herself. 

"Well, if the fish were running hard right now I'd use a rod but right now this is better," Ben said grudgingly. Each word seemed to be painful.

Greg came up behind them. "What Ben here is trying to explain," he said laughing, " is that this is better for mid-day, when the fish are scarce and we're really just here to drink. You see, if a fish bites then this little flag will come up. That way we don't have to sit right by the hole and you can keep your eye on a few holes at once," he gestured around the small area where they spotted multiple set-ups like the one Ben had just rigged.

"Thanks, Greg," Rebecca said rolling her eyes at Ben. 

Greg laughed in return. "No problem." 

Ben watched their exchange with a frown and she blushed, suddenly feeling bad for not giving him more of a chance.

"So how many do you usually catch in a day out here?" she said, determined to try and be nicer to Ben.

"Depends," was his curt reply.

She sighed.

Well, so much for that.

He glanced up at her and stood, tucked his hands into his pockets and cleared his throat. "It depends on where the fish are running and whether we drill in the right spots, it also depends on the time of year and the time of day, the weather...it's pretty complicated really," he said, his tone implying that she likely didn't need to know much more than that. He was right. Jamie and Riley wandered off hand in hand, seemingly bored by the exchange now that the drilling was done. 

"That makes sense, um, how's it going today?" she asked, trying to draw him out more. 

"Pretty good, I guess," was his reply. 

Okay then, well, I tried, she consoled herself. A valiant attempt actually. 

"Well, great." She smiled and walked off, trying not to show how annoyed she was. She wasn't sure why his gruff attitude bothered her so much—well, she was to an extent—rudeness always bothered her, it was just so...unnecessary. And it wasn't very Canadian, either.

She wandered over to the main group where a few of the other guys were showing Marc, Doug, Leah and Tom the fish they'd caught that morning which were now in a large cooler packed with snow. The fish were relatively small, apparently mostly Pikes, Trouts and Walleyes. They explained that they usually caught a couple dozen fish a day, enough for a sizeable meal. It made Rebecca feel a little better knowing that they actually ate the fish they caught. As she watched two of the guys explain how they determined where to drill her gaze wandered across the lake. They were about halfway across, square in the middle of an icy plain. Thinking about the fact that only a few feet of frozen water separated her from the icy depths of the lake sent a shiver through her body and she clasped her arms around herself. She felt conscious of someone staring at her and she turned her head to find Ben standing a few feet away watching her with an impassive gaze.

"Cold?" he asked.

"No, not really, just thinking about all the water underneath us," she replied.

"Right," he cleared his throat as if to say something more then stopped. She was about to turn away when he spoke again "So, did you get some good pictures yesterday...in the woods?"

She was taken aback by his sudden desire to make conversation. "Yeah, I did. I mean, it was tricky getting the setting right, the light is so bright and clear here, its pretty different than in the city, but I think I got some good shots. I won't really know until I get them on my computer though."

He nodded his head. "So, what do you do with them?"

"Usually not much—it's really just a hobby but I have had some photos published in magazines, online. It's pretty hard to make a career out of it. You really need a niche. I mostly just do it for fun, it's a way of looking at the world that's totally different, like a whole new perspective...it helps me to connect in a way I might not if it was just me and...I don't know my eyes," she laughed, "plus it's a great conversation starter, you'd be amazed—even the surliest people secretly like having their picture taken," she said teasingly.

Ben let out a low laugh. "I guess I deserve that," he said.

"Becca! We're going to head across to the other side now, you coming?" Leah called out.

"Yeah, I'll be right there!" she replied.

"Good luck fishing today, hope they're biting for you," she said as she walked off.

Was that a smile? Will wonders never cease...

"Wow, looks like you managed to get grumpy to crack a smile back there, what were you two talking about?" Leah said, as she sidled up alongside Rebecca.

"Photography actually. He seemed almost...interested. I know, shocking after how surly he was yesterday but maybe he's not such a bad guy. Maybe it was just a bad day or something."

"You always assume the best Becca. He's still an asshole. I mean he measures out his words as if they were friggin' gold, like it's just too much bother to actually talk to us like proper human beings."

"Yeah, I know. I'm just saying he's not a total dick, maybe just 70%?" 

They both laughed. 



The next day they hit the ski hill then spent the night drinking wine and relaxing by the fire. Rebecca wasn't particularly looking forward to everyone leaving in the morning. Though there was plenty to do in the area she worried that she'd spend the week feeling like a third wheel.

She knew, however, that if she had stayed home she'd have regretted it and spent the week wondering what her friends were up to. It was rejuvenating being outside all day and she loved the cabin, it oozed Northern country charm without being cheesy or stuffy. Sitting by the fire at night with a glass of wine in her hand she felt the most relaxed she had in months. 

Not having a boyfriend anymore is no reason to deny myself this...all the more reason to be here actually, she thought defiantly.

To singletons everywhere! She toasted herself—and Bridget Jones in absentia, recognizing that she might be a wee bit drunk. 

That realization was confirmed when she woke up in the morning with a headache and a dry mouth. She cursed as she hit head on the bunk bed—again. 

When she emerged downstairs everyone was in a flurry, Jamie, Riley, Marc and Doug were packing up their stuff and grumbling about not being able to take more time off work while Leah and Tom made breakfast for everyone. Within an hour, the place felt empty. Leah and Tom went back to bed "to nap" and Rebecca decided to head out into the woods once more. She showered quickly, donned wool leggings, a sweater, her clunky boots, and her parka and headed out to strap on her trusty snow-shoes. It was another beautiful day and the bright sun reflected off of every surface. She thanked her foresight in remembering to grab her sunglasses from the car. 

After a few hours the light began to fade within the woods so she headed out onto the lake. She wanted to take a few more shots of the ice huts and figured they'd be pretty deserted on a Monday afternoon. She was taking close-up shots of one of the huts—a particularly brightly colored red and yellow hut with painted shutters and a Canadian flag painted on the side—when she noticed smoke coming from one of the far huts. 

She walked over, intending to ask the owner if she could take some interior shots. This particular hut was plainer than some of the others—made of weathered wood with red trim it almost looked like a mini replica of their cabin. She knocked softly.

"Hello?"

There was no answer then the door swung open. It was Ben.

"Oh, hi. Um, I was just taking some shots of the huts when I noticed the smoke. I was wondering if I could take some interior shots inside the hut?" she said poking her head inside the door. 

The interior was illuminated by the large window cut out of one wall although light curtains covered it, dampening the blinding sunlight outside. A bench covered in an old quilt ran along the short side of the room, in front of which a wide, even hole had been drilled. A small electric heater complete with faux flames sat next to the bench and across from it were two folding chairs, two coolers—presumably one full of beer and one for fish—and a stack of blankets. The heater was attached via a long cord running out the door to a generator pumping away noisily outside. It was cozy and inviting. Rebecca took a step inside before being invited to.

"Uh, yeah, I guess, be my guest," Ben said, his tone implying that she was clearly going to come in whether he said she could or not.

"Great," Rebecca said absently. She noticed a few paintings on the walls, brightly colored folk paintings depicting bears and geese and other animals. "It's really great in here, are they all this nice?"

Ben smiled, seemingly despite himself, at the compliment. "Nah, most guys just chuck a few chairs in and a cooler but I tend to spend a lot of time out here so I figured I'd may as well make it nice," he seemed vaguely embarrassed at this omission that he cared about his surroundings as if it was unmanly.

"Well, it's awesome. Do you mind if I close the door? The light will be better that way," she said already latching it shut. She started framing some shots then noticed Ben standing awkwardly next to the bench. 

"Sit down, keep on doing what you were doing. Do you mind being in some of the shots?" she asked.

"Nah, I guess not," he said, sitting back down on the bench and picking up his rod again.

"So you use a regular rod in here," she asked.

"Well, this time of day they're usually biting pretty thick so it works better this way."

She took a few shots of Ben, the stack of blankets, the paintings, and then capped her lens and took a seat next to him. In the short time she'd been there he'd caught three or four small to medium sized fish and she wanted to watch him in action. His rod jiggled every few minutes and he easily jerked it out, deftly extricated the fish from the hook, placed them in the cooler and tossed the line back in. 

He shot her an amused glance, "Wanna try?"

She nodded and took the rod out of his hand.

"You gotta jerk it a little back and forth, like this," he said, placing his hand on hers.

A small current of electricity shot up her arm, she'd taken off her gloves when she'd entered the warm interior of the hut and the feel of his calloused hand on her own felt unexpectedly... exciting. She swallowed and nodded, imitating the movement of his hand. She felt a tug on the line and squeaked in girlish excitement, then blushed.

Could I be any more typical? she thought, chagrined.

"That's good, you got one, now pull it quick, don't jerk it though...yeah, sure, just like that," he said laughing as she jerked the line wildly out of the water and sent both fish and hook flying. He grabbed the line and tossed the fish—her first!—into the cooler.

"Nice, you're a real natural," he said smiling.

"Yeah, right, a natural...actually, its really not that hard is it?"

"Nope, it's the simplest thing in the world. That's why I like it. Just sit here, you don't have to think to think about anything much, have a beer or two, it's nice and quiet and peaceful...well, usually it is," he said with a laugh as she squealed again when the line jerked in her hands.

"Sorry! It's just kind of...exciting I guess. I used to fish with my dad when I was little but I barely remember it. Mostly we were on the ocean but a few times we went lake fishing."

Ben seemed surprised, "You didn't grow up in Toronto? I had you pegged as a die-hard city girl."

"I know you did. That was obvious. But, no, I'm from a small town in Nova Scotia. But I've been in Toronto for about six years now so it does feel like home. I know it has a bad rap with you...'country folk'," she said with a laugh, "but it's actually a pretty great place to live. You can get any kind of food you want, hear any kind of music you want, there's art, theatre, you name it. And it's so multicultural, I mean on one subway car you hear about ten different languages, it's amazing really..." she laughed at the passion in her voice, "sorry, I'm just used to people slagging Toronto, all my relatives back home can't believe I moved there and they really can't believe I actually like it there."

"Yeah, I guess I shouldn't really judge it too much. I've only been a few times—it's just too much for me, you know? Too noisy, too many people and it fucking stinks, am I right?"

Rebecca laughed. "Yeah, especially during the garbage strike, oh my god...that was the worst, the park near my house was piled five feet high with rotting crap," she shuddered, "but it only really smells in the summer and only in some areas...," she laughed, "though I guess if you're used to breathing the air around here it must seem pretty bad."

They chatted for a while about Ben's job, his family, life in the country. His father died when he was little and he and his mom ran the family business. His dad built the four main cabins himself and Ben had built the two newer, smaller ones as well as the cabin that he himself lived in, about a kilometer down the road from where they were staying. His mom managed the customer service side of the business—the websites, bookings—and did the cleaning while Ben made sure all the properties were sound and in good working order.

"Sounds like a fair trade," Rebecca said, "although, given you're truly dynamite people skills I'm surprised your mom doesn't have you greeting the customers."

Ben had the grace to laugh. "Yeahhh, sorry about that. I guess I can be a little...unfriendly sometimes. I don't mean to be, it's just, when I don't know people I don't always, I don't know, bother to exert myself too much. We have a lot of people coming through here and some of them, well, they're not the greatest, in fact they're snobby, arrogant assholes used to having people wait on them hand and foot. They come out to "escape" supposedly and then they flip out when everything's not exactly like it is back home. They're always hassling my mom and making her work too hard, you know she does her best to keep everything just right for you guys and, well, it's just pisses me off...," he trailed off, then blushed, "sorry, I guess I got a little over heated there, and you guys all seem really nice, so, um, sorry I guess."

Rebecca was a bit taken aback at the heat in Ben's voice. She could understand what he was saying but she had to wonder why someone who clearly didn't enjoy interacting with strangers was basically working in the tourism industry. "Isn't there anyone else that can help your mom out? I mean, I know it's none of my business, but it doesn't seem like you enjoy it very much"

"No, not really. For now, it's just me and her. And I mean, I like working on the cabins, I guess I just don't like some of the more...er, interpersonal stuff," he laughed, "mostly mom handles that, I only came by the other day because she forgot to tell you all a few things and I didn't want her to have to trouble herself too much so I figured I'd just go and do it myself. Plus I like people to know that it's not just her running this place, people can take advantage if they think it's just some little old lady"




How to Break the Ice



"Your mom doesn't really give off the 'little old lady' vibe Ben," Rebecca said thinking back to the robust, vibrant woman she'd met.

"No, I guess you're right, I'm just protective..." 

"It's nice, I can understand that," Rebecca said.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the fish gradually piling up inside the cooler as the sun sank lower and lower in the sky. Ben offered her a beer and she accepted, this morning's hangover all but forgotten—or chased away by all the fresh cold air. Rebecca found she was actually enjoying herself and, what was more surprising, she was enjoying Ben's company. He was actually surprisingly easy to talk to, he listened attentively while she talked about her job—well complained really—asked her intelligent questions about the journalism industry and her photography and revealed that he had a self-deprecating sense of humor when she teased him about his gruff, outdoorsman persona.

"Am I really a such cliché?" he laughed.

"Well...a little. I mean the plaid jacket, the beard, the tuque, the canned beer, you could be the third McKenzie brother," she said poking him in the arm. 

"Oh man, Bob and Doug! Do you remember that show? Classic. My dad used to love that...I swear I'm not just some hoser. I went to university, I've traveled, I've read books, I just like living in the country, it suits me."

"It does suit you," she said eyeing him. It was true. She couldn't imagine him in a suit or in the typical hipster uniform of skinny jeans, low cut shirt and ironic eye-glasses all the guys in Toronto wore these days. He was rugged and it worked. 

It's sexy... Rebecca blushed as she thought it. The hut, already small, suddenly seemed to halve in size and her heart pounded in her chest. She resolutely looked at the corner of the hut. She could feel Ben's eyes on her and she forced herself to turn her head and meet his gaze. She felt foolish, sure that he'd picked up on her sudden surge of interest. But when she met his eyes they merely looked...amused? That made her blush even more furiously. 

I'm such an idiot, of course I would have a crush on a guy who's only being nice to me because it's like, his job...

As she thought it though she knew deep down it wasn't true. Ben wasn't the type of guy to do anything just to be nice, she'd learned that the first day she'd met him. The way he was treating her now...the way he was looking at her now...was genuine.

Ben cleared his throat. "I don't think they're really biting anymore," he said, gently taking the rod out of her hands and placing it on the ground.

"Yeah, right," she laughed self-consciously. Truthfully, she'd forgotten she'd even been holding it.

He was staring at her intently now, a questioning look on his face. She felt panicky—half of her wanted to grab him and kiss him and he other half wanted to run, as fast as her snow-shoes could carry her. She stood.

"Well, I guess I should get back, they'll think I fell through the ice or something," she laughed nervously.

Ben stood, a flash of disappointment visible in his eyes. "Yeah, right," he said.

"Um," they both spoke at once. She felt his hand light on her shoulder.

Rebecca turned back, her hand on the door to find Ben standing inches away. She could feel his breath, hot on her face, it smelled of mint and beer and something sweet. She licked her lips. Before she had a chance to think or do anything Ben pushed her gently against the door, she felt the metal door handle hit the small of her back but she didn't care, her mind was too distracted by the sudden feel of his mouth on hers. He kissed her roughly at first, with a hungry passion that seemed totally at odds with his usual calm, reserved demeanor. The contrast made her pulse quicken and she met his kiss with equal desperation. It had been awhile since she'd been kissed—and even longer since she'd been kissed with this much urgency and force. 

The contrast of his beard, rough but just long enough to avoid being scratchy, and his full soft lips was exhilarating. He clasped her hips on top of her parka then moved them down and underneath her jacket so that only the thin wool of her leggings separated his hands from her bare skin. 

She moved closer to him and let out a little moan of appreciation as she pressed her body into his. She cursed the thick layers of clothing that separated their bodies. She wound her hands behind his neck and ran them up into the back of his hair, it was soft and shaggy, curled in thick whorls around his ears. He groaned as she kneaded his head with her fingers. His tongue probed her mouth, sweeping its way across her teeth, explorative and firm. 

She could feel his breathing quicken as she moved her hands from his head down his back and pulled him more firmly against her. His hands tightened on her hips and he ground himself into her. She gasped at the passion in his kiss as he rocked against her, pressing his hips into hers. Her heart thudded in her ears. He gradually slowed his kiss, his lips melding softly into hers as he gently probed her mouth with his tongue. He pulled his mouth off of hers slightly, their breath mingled, as he cupped her cheek with his hand and met her eyes questioningly. Whatever he saw there was encouragement enough and he drew her face forward and kissed her again—this time with a slow, searching intensity that left her knees weak and sent shivers all down her body. She moaned as his right hand moved around to grasp her ass cheek firmly, drawing her hips into his. She could feel his erection through his jeans as he thrust his hips unconsciously against her. She thrust back with equal abandon, the thin cotton of her underwear was soaked through and she felt her leggings grow damp between her legs. 

Sensing her arousal, Ben's hand on her ass grew more confident, he kneaded it enthusiastically with his long calloused fingers, and when he cupped it roughly, his hand encountered the spreading wet spot between her legs. He groaned and worked his fingers between her legs, pressing them into the smooth crevice between her ass and her pussy. He pulled his lips away roughly and began kissing her neck. He moved his other hand to her ass, using both his hands to enthusiastically explore the area. She tried vainly to press her body more firmly into his, willing his hands forward to where her clit waited aching and throbbing in anticipation. 

"Fuck—" he groaned into her neck as he felt her need grow. 

Growing frustrated with the layers of bulky clothing impeding their contact Rebecca wedged her hands between them and unzipped her parka, then threw it on the bench. Her lightweight sweater was slightly damp—the combination of the heat produced by the small electric stove and their combined body heat meant that the hut was almost steamy. Ben drew his head back and looked into her eyes as he moved his hands up and along her sides, then cupped her full breasts in his hands gently and ran his thumbs along her hardened nipples. She gasped. His touch sent electric shivers all down her body. She moved her legs so that she was straddling one of his thighs and pressed herself into it firmly. He took the hint and moved his leg against her pussy rhythmically. Being suddenly granted the friction she'd been craving made her gasp loudly as she bucked against him. Ben chuckled low in his throat, seemingly pleased by her response. He moved his right hand down, then back up to cup the underside of her breast—apparently reluctant to let it go—then traced his fingers back down to the waistband of her leggings.

Yes, she thought, imagining his fingers deep inside her. She knew it wouldn't take long to bring her to her release. 

He slipped his hand into her leggings then ran his fingers along the waistband of her panties. She was thankful she happened to be wearing nice underwear today—a purple lace thong—rather than her usual cotton special from The Gap. His kissed her roughly, his tongue pliant in her mouth as he slipped his hand inside her thong. He moved his fingers down her neatly trimmed mound. When he encountered the dripping wetness below he groaned and pushed himself against her. She kissed him roughly, mentally encouraging his exploration. He traced one finger along the seam of her pussy, then dipped it inside only to pull it back out immediately. She pressed against him in frustration and he chuckled. Sensing her impatience, he pushed two fingers inside her inside her, encasing them to the knuckle in her wet channel. She gasped at the sudden feeling of fullness as he penetrated her. 

He scissored his fingers apart, stretching her drenched opening, then began kneading her clit with his thumb. The silky nub, already throbbing and surging with desire inflated under his touch. 

He thrust into her over and over. Each time her tailbone hit the hard wood of the door behind her but she didn't care. It felt too good. After each penetration he withdrew his fingers almost completely then plunged them back inside, reaching an aching needy spot that she'd forgotten she'd even had. Soon she was bucking in place; driving into him as he drove into her.

"Ben, oh god—" she gasped in his ear, her arms wrapped around his neck as she bucked against him. 

She was close. She could feel the telltale tingle in her thighs, the sense of pressure and almost painful need that coalesced around her clit. She spread her legs further apart and Ben added another finger inside her, sweeping his long calloused digits in and out of her pussy as he dragged his thumb in a relentless pattern around her swollen clit. 

Her thighs tensed and her breath came in rough gasps as she strained for release. She felt the walls of her pussy begin to tighten and spasm around his fingers, clenching them deep inside her. She arched into his touch and cried out loudly as pulse after pulse of searing heat shattered through her and she gushed hot liquid all down his hand. Ben buried his face in her neck and groaned at the sound of her pleasure. She panted and laid her head on his shoulder as the last few shudders wracked her body. Ben slowly withdrew his hand from within her and pulled her more closely to him, kissing her neck softly. 

"Wow...," she said, her breathing gradually returning to normal. 

"Yeah, that's what I was going to say," Ben said smiling. He kissed her softly on the lips. 

"Why have I never been ice-fishing before?" she asked, a smile on her face. She knew she should feel a bit embarrassed about the intensity and well, volume, of her orgasm—at least that's how she'd usually felt after coming with Liam—but she didn't she just felt relaxed. Limp and loose like a rag doll. A very satisfied rag doll. 

"Having you here makes the sport way more interesting I gotta say," Ben said shyly. "So...it was good?" 

"Um, yeah. Good doesn't really cover it. It was awesome actually, ah, thank you," she giggled, "is that weird to say?"

"I don't think so, though I, um, feel like I should be the one thanking you, that was so hot, you're so hot, I never expected this..." He blushed and kissed her cheek.

"Me neither but, well, I'm glad it happened," she said turning her face to capture his lips with her own. They kissed softly for a few minutes. 

She could feel Ben trying to hold back, and she was abruptly conscious of the bulge in his pants, now pressed against her thigh. She moved her hand down and squeezed. He groaned low in his throat.

"It's okay, you don't have to—" he started to say then broke off as she unzipped his pants and slipped her hand down the front on his jeans. 

He was rock hard. The thin cotton of his boxer briefs was wet where the tip of his cock had been freely leaking pre-cum. She moved her hand firmly along his thick shaft then squeezed the tip firmly, milking another few drops out of it. Ben gasped. She worked her hand into the waistband of his briefs then explored the soft, silky skin of his cock with her fingers. She felt herself getting turned on again, and started rocking against him as she pulled his cock out of his briefs until it sprang free, bobbing thick and long out of the fly of his pants. She pushed the material of his briefs down until it was wedged under his balls then began stroking his distended cock. He pumped into her hand, and she felt his cock swell and plump even further. She ran her thumb over the tip, dipping into the weeping slit at the end and using the moisture to coat his shaft. He shuddered and his breath hitched. He arched into her touch and clasped her shoulder with his hand. She began stroking him faster, her hand moving up and down his shaft and over the tip with each progression. His breathing was coming in sharp pants now and she sensed he was going to come. She moved her hand quicker and squeezed his shaft roughly. Ben bucked under her grip, thrust forward into her hand then gasped as hot jets of juice erupted out of him. She slowed her movements and gently milked the last few drops of his pleasure out. She pulled his briefs back up, zipped up his jeans and surreptitiously wiped her hand on the back of her leggings. 

Ben drew her in for a kiss. "Jesus, Rebecca...," he said as he pulled away. He pressed his forehead to hers and cradled her face with his hands. 

They stood like that for a minute kissing slowly and softly until they heard someone shouting outside. 

"Oh, shit, it's Leah, she's probably worried, I guess I have even gone all day," Rebecca said, pulling on her parka and tidying her disheveled hair.

"Well, at least they have good timing," Ben said with a blush. 

There was something very vulnerable about Ben that Becca hadn't expected, it was hugely endearing. She kissed him quickly on the cheek before opening the door and calling out.

"I'm here!" she yelled, waving at the two figures in the distance. It had gotten dark outside while they'd been wrapped up in each other but luckily Leah and Tom had brought a flashlight and Ben clicked his on as well.

"Oh my god Becca! There you are. We were worried!" Leah said as she approached.

"I'm sorry guys, I went for a hike then I ran into Ben and he, ah, he taught me how to ice fish...I guess we lost track of time. Were you looking long?" She felt genuinely bad. 

Leah gave her a skeptical look and raised her eyebrows as she looked from Becca to Ben and back again. "Well, you must be a real pro now," she said archly, "no, we weren't looking too long, we know you like to go off on photo expeditions but once it got dark we thought we'd better search you out. I can't say I expected to find you here though..." 

Becca cleared her throat in embarrassment, she knew she'd be hearing about this later. "Well, yeah, you know I love these huts...um, well, I guess we should be getting back," she turned to Ben with an apologetic look. "Um, guys, why don't you go ahead and I'll be right there," she said shooting daggers at Leah who didn't look like she'd be going anywhere soon. Leah sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, sure, we'll see you in a minute. Night, Ben," she said as they turned and walked off.

Becca turned to Ben awkwardly, she wasn't sure what to do now—was what had just happened between them a fluke? A one-time thing—or more? 

"Um—," they both said at the same time, again. 

They laughed and Becca's mind eased. 

"Listen, Becca, I have to go do some work at one of the far cabins tomorrow but, um, maybe you'd like to, ah, come over for dinner tomorrow night? I mean, I'm not a great cook and my place, well, anyway, if you'd like to come that'd be..." he trailed off.

"I'd love to," she said kissing him on the cheek. "What time?"

"How about seven? I'll come get you. I don't want you getting lost in the woods on the way over," he said with a smile.

"Sounds great, I'll see you then," she gave him a quick peck then ran off to catch up to her friends. When she'd joined them she turned back and watched the thin circle of light that was Ben's flashlight as it progressed across the lake and disappeared into the trees. 



The sun was just beginning to set. Rebecca dug through her suitcase for something suitable to wear to dinner. When she'd packed she hadn't exactly expected to be going on a date so her suitcase was full of warm, practical clothing, nothing remotely sexy. She finally settled on a pair of skinny jeans and a cowl neck sweater. It wasn't ideal but it would do. 

Ben didn't seem like the kind of guy who would care much what she was wearing anyway, Rebecca mused. 

She'd spent most of last night lying in bed thinking about Ben and what his hands had done to her...what her hands had done to him. The memories had caused her to toss and turn until her sheets had been a tangled mess. She still couldn't believe that she'd actually done that—it was totally unlike her to be so spontaneous and, well, slutty, she guessed the word was. But the strange thing was she didn't feel bad about it and she didn't regret it. At all. In fact, the singularity of what had happened, its unpredictability, was part of what excited her when she thought about it. Maybe it was being away from home, or maybe it was because Ben was so unlike any guy she'd ever been with or maybe she was just discovering a new, less inhibited side of herself, but she had a feeling tonight would also bring some unexpected surprises.

She applied some makeup, fluffed up her hair and added earrings then headed downstairs.

"So...are you excited for your date?" Leah asked giggling, "I cannot believe you're having dinner with him! I mean, he's cute but he's so grumpy, and that's never been your thing."

"I know it's totally weird but he's actually not as, well, grumpy as he seems. He's just kind of quiet and reserved and, okay, a little judgmental but aren't we all? He's pretty easy to talk to once you get him going. And he's sexy..."

"Oh my god! You guys totally did it! You did it in an ice hut!" Leah squealed.

Rebecca laughed and held up her hands, "No, we did not do it. We might have...made out a little..." she giggled then collected herself. 

The memory of her time with Ben in the hut yesterday brought a flush to her cheeks and caused her pussy to throb in anticipation of seeing him again. Tonight it would be the two of them, alone, for as long as they wanted. She felt a pang of nervousness for the first time. 

What if he's actually a crazed murderer? She giggled nervously at the thought, causing Leah to look at her in concern.

"Oh my god, this is crazy. I'm going on a date to a log cabin in the middle of nowhere with a guy I barely know and probably won't ever see again after this week, am I crazy?" she wailed.

"No! You're awesome. Every vacation should have a little romance in it, I just never expected you to find it here, or with him!" Leah laughed. 

"Just don't over think it, you deserve a little fun, okay? So go have it!"

Leah embraced her in a big hug and she thanked whoever was responsible for giving her a friend that always knew what to say to make her feel better. Just then she heard a knock at the door. Her stomach fluttered in anticipation. She opened the door to find Ben standing there. He looked much the same as he had every other time she'd seen him, jeans, boots, plaid jacket...but he wasn't wearing a tuque despite the chill in the early evening air and his beard looked neatly trimmed. Her momentary panic swept away at the sight of him. He looked nervous, and shy and...adorable.

Oh god, I've totally got a crush on him...she thought.

"Hey," she said shyly. 

"Hey," he said smiling, "you ready to go?" he held out his hand to her. It was bare and warm from being in his pocket.

Her heart thudded as their skin made contact. She waved goodbye to a grinning Leah and Tom and shut the door behind her. Ben still had a hold of her hand.

"Oh I forgot my mitts...," she said, suddenly noticing the cool air on her bare hands. 




How to Break the Ice



"I can keep this one warm," he said gruffly, tucking her hand inside his and placing them both in his jacket pocket. She tucked her right hand into her own pocket and smiled in appreciation. 

It took about fifteen minutes to make their way to Ben's place, they followed the road the whole way, passing one or two other cabins, their windows illuminated. 

"Are these yours too?" she asked gesturing.

"Yeah, those two and a few others farther along. They're all full right now, it's been a pretty good year."

"Must be busy for you though," she said, thinking of the amount of upkeep that must be required to keep them all in such pristine condition.

"Yeah, it is, these last few months especially. My uncle's usually around to help out most years but he's been laid up for the last few months, he twisted something in his back"

"Oh, that's too bad. When do you think he'll be able to help you out again? It must be tough to never have a break," she said, thinking, for selfish reasons, that she'd like Ben to be able to have some time off to come and see her in the city...

She knew she shouldn't be planning anything beyond this week—that she barely knew Ben but she felt something special when she was with him and it wasn't just the physical attraction she could feel coursing through her body, though that was powerful. It was more like...a feeling of safety and comfort, like she was at home with him in a way she hadn't really ever been with anyone. She had a momentary urge to stop him in his tracks and bury her face in the warm crook of his neck, feel the scruff of his beard on her face and nuzzle into the warm flannel of his jacket. She flushed, glad the light was dark enough that he couldn't spot the telltale reddening of her cheeks. 

"Yeah, it has been, but he's pretty much recovered now, maybe another few weeks or so and he can start helping out again. It'll be nice to have a bit of free time to...I don't know get out of her for awhile, I mean, I love it here, I can't imagine ever living anywhere else but I used to like to travel a bit, see the country and it's been awhile since I've been able to get away for more than day or two."

"I imagine it could be kind of lonely up here too...I mean I know you have lots of friends, but..." Rebecca trailed off, she knew she was digging a little here, what she really wanted to know was whether there were any girls up here—she hadn't seen any since she'd arrived, the place seemed like some sort of male wonderland. 

"I supposed it can be a little lonely. I...well, for awhile there I ah, had a girlfriend, Jenna, we were together for two years. She moved in about six months ago and well, I guess she realized pretty quick that this life wasn't really for her. I mean she was country but not, well this country." Ben laughed, gesturing to the dark, towering forest around them. Despite his humor Becca could tell the memory was painful. 

Now that they'd passed the few cabins within sight of her own the road was completely dark, Rebecca was grateful that Ben's flashlight was powerful. 

"So she went back home?" Rebecca said, now that she'd somehow maneuvered Ben into talking about his past relationship she wanted—no needed—to be clear on how it had all ended. Make sure it had ended. 

"Yup. She lives in Haliburton, about twenty k's from here. It's over, Rebecca, I haven't seen her in more than two months," Ben said, intuiting her line of questioning.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be nosy, I just, well didn't want to have some angry ex attacking our cabin with an axe or anything," she said squeezing his hand.

"Don't apologize, I understand why you'd want to know," Ben said. He stopped walking and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her so the light from the flashlight formed a pool around their feet. She could barely see his face but she could feel his breath on her cheek. He kissed her cheek softly and she shivered. His kissed her mouth next, gently. She drew him closer and met his lips. They kissed for a minute then he drew back.

"It's just around this bend," he said gesturing ahead.

She could see them glow of light through the trees. As they rounded the bend she drew in a breath. 

"Oh, it's beautiful, Ben," she said, meaning it. 

The cabin was set just back from the lake, upon which the thin moon reflected a white glow. It was smaller than the one she was in but with a similar constriction. The wood was dark and gleaming and the trim was a dark red. Four brightly colored Adirondack chairs were placed on the big front deck. An old tin lantern hung near the door casting a soft glow on the house's façade. Ben opened the door and she blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting slowly to the warm bright light of the interior. The inside comprised a large central room with a kitchen off to the left. A large navy sofa was placed in front of the stone fireplace that dominated the room. A bright crackling fire burned in its hearth and a generous supply of wood was stacked nearby. The floor was the same dark wood as the outside and was smooth and worn. Patterned rugs in red and blue covered the floor. Next to the door was a long low cabinet full of books on top of which sat framed photos and several antique bird decoys. A pile of quilts and pattered wool blankets were neatly stacked in the corner. The kitchen, open to the main room was small, the fridge only half the size of her own at home. On the gas range a cast iron skillet sat empty, next to it was a generous pile of lemon slices and a plate with what looked like a dusting of flour and spices. A large mixed salad sat heaped in a wooden bowl on the sideboard and fresh bread sat next to the oven, waiting to be heated.

"You want a tour?" Ben asked, clearly proud to have inspired he look of admiration in her eyes as she took in the cozy scene.

"Yes, definitely," Rebecca answered smiling. 

Ben showed her the "office" off to the right of the main room that he currently had filled with sporting equipment. The only concession to the word office was the small desk upon which a computer sat and the piles of books stacked against one wall.

"I ah, haven't, really sorted this room out yet," Ben said laughing.

The spacious bathroom, complete with an antique soaker tub and a shower lay just off to the left of the main room next to the kitchen. Two bedrooms took up the back of the cabin. One with a queen size bed, covered in a red and white checked quilt, the other, Ben's room, was directly behind the fireplace. One wall was entirely taken up by the stone back of the fireplace, which provided heat to the whole room. The king size bed was covered in a white quilt with a large navy eagle on it and small wooden tables stood to either side of the bed. Navy curtains covered the window looking out towards the back of the house and a large armoire took up the left side of the room next to the door. A soft cream colored raglin rug covered the floor.

"This is amazing Ben, I really cannot believe you built this yourself, it's, well, it's amazing," she laughed as they walked back to the living room. 

"Thanks," he said, his cheeks flushed a little red at the compliment, he clearly enjoyed showing her around, "I'm really glad you like it, it's, well, it's home," he said.

"It feels like a home. And it's very...you. It just feels like you," Rebecca said then blushed at her presumption.

Ben smiled. "Yeah, I guess it is," he said. 

Ben offered her a drink. He uncapped a beer and she sipped on white wine as they sat on the sofa in front of the fire. Rebecca curled her feet up under her and basked in the warm glow of the fire. Ben brought out some stuffed olives and some cheese and crackers and they nibbled while the talked. Rebecca told Ben a little more about her life in Toronto, her recent break-up (really briefly, and she made sure to underscore the fact that it was over) she told him about her childhood in the country and her family about how much she missed living surrounded by nature.

"In some ways you seem like such a city girl, I mean, you look like a city girl," Ben said, "you know, all glossy and stuff," Ben laughed, "but I can see the country in you...a little," 

Rebecca laughed."Just in my accent, right?" 

All of her Toronto friends teased her about her "Canadian" accent—her propensity to say "hoh-use" instead of "how-se," "a-boat" instead of "a-bowt" and her sometimes unconscious use of "eh?" as a sentence finisher. 

"Yeah, pretty much," Ben said, "well, no, I mean you just seem to like it here, I mean you appreciate things, you really look at them and you, you see them," he finished uncertainly.

"Thanks," she said, "that's a real compliment for a photographer."

Their eyes met and Rebecca felt a wave of electricity pass between them. She was suddenly conscious of how good Ben looked in his soft, light blue button down shirt and jeans, how close his leg was to hers...

Ben cleared his throat, "I'd better get dinner on, you okay with fish?" he asked.

"Like, fish you caught?" she said excitedly.

"Yup, the very same. I went out this afternoon once I got back."

"That sounds great, I haven't had fish that fresh since I was a kid," she said smiling, "can I help?"

"Nope, I'm cooking them like my mom does, pan fried with butter and lemon, so it's really easy—of course I'm not doing it that way because it's easy," he chuckled, "but because it 'brings out the flavor of the fish the best' as my mom puts it," Ben said opening the fridge and pulling out a platter of small white fillets. 

"Sounds perfect," Rebecca said.

And it was. The fish was cooked perfectly. It fell apart and in flakes at the touch of her fork and the flavor of butter, lemon and a bit of floury coating melted in her mouth. They had a green salad and fresh crusty bread. It was the best meal Rebecca had had in ages. Getting Ben to believe that took some convincing, he was sure she'd eaten better at one of the fancy restaurants in her downtown neighborhood, but eventually she managed to convince him she was telling the truth. Simple sometimes was best. 

She helped him clear the dishes and he briefly tidied the kitchen before they retired to the sofa, drinks in hand. Rebecca felt satiated in so many ways, although when Ben sat next to her, his thigh pressed against hers, she realized there were many different ways to be satiated. She put down her wine glass with a deliberate clink and turned to face Ben. He followed suit, and deposited his beer on the floor next to his feet. 

They lips met halfway as they both leaned in simultaneously for a kiss. This time it was not gentle and sweet, instead it was hungry and forceful. Rebecca leaned back so that she was resting against the pile of cushions at the end of the sofa and pulled Ben on top of her. His body was pressed to hers all along its length and he used one strong arm to prop himself up and cradled her face with his other hand as he kissed her. His tongue probed her mouth firmly, and she shivered as he ground his body into hers. She raised her hips to meet his and felt the bulge of his erection through his jeans. 

"Ben—" she said drawing back briefly, "can we go in the bedroom?" 

She didn't care how bold she sounded, she wanted to feel his naked body on hers, to feel him inside of her. 

Ben stood and held out his hand. They walked the short distance to the bedroom, her heart thudding in her ears. She'd never wanted someone so badly. 

As they got inside the door, Ben shut it behind him to conserve the warmth that had built up in the room courtesy of the roaring fire on the other side of the wall. He pulled her to him and kissed her again, this time with an almost violent intensity. She met his passion with equal force. His hands traveled along her body then clasped the edge of her sweater and drew it over her head. He stepped back slightly to look at her his gaze traveling slowly over her bare midriff and up to her full breasts, encapsulated by her black lace bra. He pulled his own shirt off, not bothering to undo the buttons, then removed the white undershirt he wore underneath. His chest was broad and well muscled, furred lightly with brown hairs across his firm pecs that tapered down to disappear into the waistband of his jeans. Suitably, his body looked like that of a man who worked outside all day, not like the carefully sculpted, hairless torsos of the guys who worked out at Rebecca's gym. He was sexy as hell and Rebecca felt herself growing wet at the sight of him. 

Her breath hitched in her throat as he drew nearer and kissed her once more. His hands began lightly exploring her back, her stomach, then trailed over her breasts. He groaned and gently squeezed one soft mound. Rebecca pressed herself into him encouragingly, wanting, needing, him to explore further. He slipped his hand inside her bra and ran his fingers over her hardened nipple, it inflated further under his touch, every nerve ending in her body seemingly centered in that one hard, peaked nub. He stroked and pinched it lightly, causing her breath to come in broken pants. He withdrew his hand and deftly undid the clasp of her bra, allowing it to fall carelessly to the floor. He cupped her breasts in both hands then brought one distended nipple to his mouth and began teasing it with his tongue, tracing circles around its hard peak and sucking it gently. 

"Ben..." Rebecca moaned. She'd never felt this turned on by such small movements. 

Her pussy throbbed in time to the beating of her heart, and the light cotton of her panties was drenched with her juices. Ben walked her slowly backwards over to the bed, then laid her down on it. He stood over her, looking down, his desire evident in his eyes and by the massive bulge in his pants, which he cupped in one hand briefly, seemingly unable to control himself. 

He undid her jeans slowly, then pulled them free of her body so she lay spread beneath him in only her black thong. She spread her legs a little wider, dying to feel the touch of his fingers between her legs. He undid his own jeans then slid them off, tossing them with hers on the floor next to he bed, then lay down on top of her and began kissing her neck. Now that they were only separated by thin cotton she could feel his cock straining against his briefs as he ground his body on top of hers. 

She sighed brokenly and arched into him. He moved slightly to one side, supporting his weight on one bent arm then cupped her breasts in his palm and dragged his thumb over her nipple causing her to moan and flex her hips upwards. He trailed his fingers down her stomach and slid them along the waistband of her panties. His eyes darkened with desire as he looked at her spread form, and he slid his hand inside her damp panties to caress the dripping flesh within. She moaned as he skimmed her flesh with his fingertips, then pushed them inside her two at a time. She shuddered, her body in ecstasy as she finally felt the penetration she had been craving. He began kissing her roughly as he thrust in and out of her soaked pussy with his fingers. His breath grew hoarse and ragged. He suddenly withdrew his fingers, pulled her panties to her knees, dragged his briefs off and climbed on top of her. She felt the hard, distended tip of his cock at her entrance briefly but he pulled back, rubbing the full length of his shaft along her pussy, creating a delicious friction on her clit and coating it in her sweet juices. He leaned over and opened the bedside drawer, his hand emerging with a fistful of condoms. He opened one with his teeth and sheathed his impressive length with it. He straddled her, his legs between hers, her legs fully spread. She was open to him, wet and waiting. She panted beneath him as he looked into her eyes. He kissed her as he slowly lowered his body to hers then, as she bent her knees and opened herself even wider to him, he angled his hips and thrust inside her in one smooth movement. She cried out at the small flash of pain brought about by his impressive size stretching her tight passage then waves of pleasure overtook her as he began thrusting into her in a slow, building rhythm. 

Their tongues entwined as they kissed. Their bodies glided against one another as sweat built up between them. Rebecca clasped her hands on Ben's firm ass and drew her legs up, urging him further inside her, wanting to feel him fully. She felt his hard swollen member along each inch of her clinging passage. His balls slapped against her ass wetly with each powerful thrust. She arched her head back and Ben buried his face in her neck, his breath coming in hard, hoarse pants. She made small needy sounds as she felt her climax build. He pumped into her hard and fast several times, then slowed, and eased himself up so he sat on his knees between her legs. His cock was still engulfed within her as he pulled her hips up roughly onto his thighs. He began to rock into her slowly again, with each thrust he withdrew almost completely then pushed back inside her, watching with dark, hungry, eyes as his cock penetrated her sweet hole anew each time. It was too much. The feel of his thick cock stretching her each time he thrust alongside the look in his eyes as he watched his plump head slide between her lips and into her slippery, clinging hole pushed her over the edge. She cried out as her muscles convulsed around his shaft. Ben leaned forward and thrust into her twice as she arched back then he took his own release, groaning as he arched his hips into hers and filled the condom with pulse after pulse of hot juice.

They lay panting, still entwined, for several minutes. Then Ben withdrew his cock from within Rebecca with a wet slap. He gathered some tissues and deposited the condom in the waste basket next to the bed. He leaned over her and kissed her deeply, his hand cradling her face.

"Fuck, that was..."

"Great? Amazing?" Rebecca finished for him helpfully, with a laugh.

"Yeah, all those things," he said kissing her. 

She snuggled into him and they lay side by side for a long time. Content to be in each others company, listening to the crackle of the fire in the next room.

"You know, I actually have dessert too," Ben said eventually.

"You mean that wasn't dessert?" Rebecca said playfully, kissing him.

Ben laughed, "Want me to go get it?" 

The idea of capping off the best sex of her life with desert in bed—in her opinion, far superior to breakfast in bed—was too much to resist. She nodded eagerly.

Ben stood, and she admired his firm ass and long, lean legs as he walked out the door. He came back a few minutes later with two slices of pecan pie. 

"Okay, so I didn't make it but it's from a really great bakery and it's fucking delicious," he said handing her a plate and a fork.

"I don't bake so I wouldn't expect you to," Rebecca said laughing. 

She moaned as she took a bite of the pie. It really was delicious. The sweet smooth caramel-y, burnt sugar taste of the filling, the crunch of the pecans and the flaky, slightly salty crust combined in her mouth like heaven. 

"S'good," she said around a big mouthful. Ben laughed, and kissed her nose. "I know," he replied.

They finished their pie then reclined back in bed. Rebecca felt herself drifting off, now she knew she was fully satiated, in every possible way. 



They spent Wednesday and Thursday enjoying each others company. While Ben worked around the properties Rebecca took photos. She discovered a deep fascination with the minute details of the tiny ice huts out on the lake. Each one seemed unique, each one told a story about its owner, its creator. Some were made of corrugated tin, some of plywood. Some looked ramshackle, like they would barely withstand the season, while others, like Ben's, looked like they'd resist even the foulest storm. One was painted bright blue with a huge Toronto Maple Leafs logo on it, another was clearly the work of a woman or a very self-confident man, was a deep magenta with the outline of darker magenta hearts tracing their way up the side. When Rebecca peeked inside it was decorated better than a Martha Stewart catalogue. One had a large yellow moon painted on its side, a howling wolf highlighted against it's bright surface. 




How to Break the Ice



Most of the huts were arranged on long wooden or metal "skis" or had wheels attached to their bases , enabling them to be easily towed on and off the lake or moved to different locations depending on where the fish were biting. Others had a more permanent look, the owners obviously chose a spot at the beginning of the season and stuck with it. 

In the evenings Rebecca made her way over to Ben's cabin where they took turns cooking dinner and made love all night. Neither of them talked about the fact that Rebecca had to leave Friday. 

On Thursday night Ben came over to have dinner with Leah and Tom; a sure sign, Leah claimed that things were "getting serious." Of course, this necessitated a long chat with her friends about "where this was going"—a question that Rebecca didn't have the answer to. She knew what she wanted to happen—she wanted to keep seeing Ben—but she had no idea how that could practically be achieved. She had her life in the city and he had his here. She supposed they could see each other on weekends? But driving six hours on terrible roads in the winter every weekend, or even every other weekend, wasn't exactly something Rebecca relished doing. She'd had so many friends try and do the long distance thing only to have it fail. It made her nervous. 

Christ, it's not like we live on opposite ends of the country, surely we can make this work? she wondered.

It seemed that Ben had been having similar thoughts. After dinner that night—a dinner through which he'd managed to charm both Leah and Tom with a chatty, easygoing personality she'd never seen him display with anyone but her—he asked if they could talk. They went upstairs to her room and sat on the bed, Rebecca had snagged a queen size bed after everyone had left Monday but, ironically, she had yet to sleep in it. 

"Look, Becca, I know we've been trying to ignore the fact that you're leaving tomorrow but I think we need to talk about it," Ben said, looking down at the duvet. He seemed uncomfortable.

"I know, I agree. I've been thinking about it all week but I felt like if I brought it up it would make it real and it would spoil things, we've just been having such a great time and I don't know, I've just been so happy with you..." Rebecca blushed.

"I know, me too," he squeezed her hand, "but we can't ignore the fact that we live in two different places, that we come from two different worlds—sorry, that sounded pretty cheesy," be laughed, "but it's true. I, I can't live in the city Becca and I know you have so much going on there, your job, your photography, your friends, I don't want to ask you to spend every weekend here or..." he paused, swallowed and met her eyes, "live here, or anything..."

"I'm not saying I should move here," she flushed, embarrassed to be fast-forwarding their relationship so quickly. 

Well, he brought it up first, may as well lay all the cards on the table...she decided inwardly. 

"But I do think I could be happy here for awhile, maybe forever. I don't know how the practicalities would work out but I'm willing to give it a try." She looked at him steadily, hoping that he felt as strongly about her as she did him.

Ben swallowed. "I don't want to force anyone to live a life they don't want, that they aren't suited to," he said, clearly thinking of his experience with Jenna, "I can't do that."

"Ben, I'm not Jenna. And, yeah, I guess I've become a city girl in some ways, but that's not who I am, not totally. I love it here. I've felt more creative, more alive this week than I have in ages." 

"Becca, I know it sounds easy know but you know that you'll just end up resenting me every time you have to make this drive, every time you have to miss events at the magazine or nights out with your friends. You'll come here and you'll be bored, pretty soon you'll think I'm boring. I could come and see you but you know I won't fit in there, you'll try and drag me out to events, I'll feel uncomfortable so I'll be surly and unfriendly and all your friends will start to hate me, they'll start to ask you why you're with me. Pretty soon you'll start to ask yourself the same thing," he sounded defeated.

"Fuck that, Ben, You can't just imagine away any sort of future for us with some doomsday scenario! It doesn't have to be like that," she said, emotion choking her voice. 

She was angry with him for saying those things but even angrier at herself for having to recognize, deep down, that what he said might be true. That he just might be right. In all likelihood they wouldn't survive the weekend visits, the pressure of him trying to fit in where he was miserable, her being forced to try and relax after a long week of work and a six hour drive only to inevitably be thinking about how she'd have to do it all again in a few days. Ben's eyes shut off, and he released her hand. 

"No, you're right, maybe it doesn't have to be that way but we both know that's how it will be. I don't want you to start to resent me, to start to hate it here, I don't know if I can go through that," he looked everywhere but at her as he said this.

"So that's it? We have a week like we just did and we say goodbye? Maybe I'll see you next winter?" her voice rose in anger. 

She knew that he was trying to be practical, realistic, that he was trying to protect himself, and her, from being hurt but her heart refused to accept his dispassionate appraisal of their chances.

"I don't like this either Becca. I really...care for you, a lot. I wish that there was some way we could do this, make this work, without making ourselves miserable but I just don't see it," he said, reaching for her hand. 

She pulled out of his reach angrily. "Okay, fine then. I think you should go," she wanted him gone before the tears clouding her eyes spilled out onto her cheeks.

"Becca—" his voice choked with emotion.

"Ben, just go. Please," she said thickly.

He got up and walked out the door, she heard the front door click closed behind him and she collapsed on the bed sobbing. Heartbroken twice in six months. But this one felt worse, she'd opened herself more fully to Ben in just a week than she had in a year with Liam. She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and Leah's voice consoling her. 



Two months later:

Becca took a sip of wine and looked over the portfolio one more time. Since she'd returned from Eagle Lake she'd spent the majority of her free time editing her photos from the trip. After flipping through the hundreds of shots she'd taken she felt herself being drawn over and over to the shots of the ice huts, there was something intrinsically charming about them. 

Apparently, she wasn't the only one who thought so. She'd posted an album labeled "Ice Huts" on her website and received a message from an independent publisher. They were publishing a series of Canadian themed coffee table books organized around the seasons, last fall they'd published one on scarecrow festivals around the country and it had been wildly successful. Becca even remembered seen a copy at her parents place. They were interested in using her shots for their winter theme, and they wanted her to travel across the country and taking photos of ice huts, concentrating on the regional differences between provinces. What was more, they were willing to pay her a decent amount of money to do this. It was, quite literally, a dream come true. She'd celebrated with her friends when she'd signed the contract but her happiness was all on the surface. Looking at the shots reminded her of Ben, and she knew she'd spend the next six months traveling thinking of him and nothing else.

She'd hoped that time would heal her heartbreak, that the memory of that week with him would slowly settle into the back of her brain. She'd tried to convince herself that it had merely been a fun vacation fling, like a Spring Break hook-up, but she knew it for the lie that it was. She missed him with a dull ache that panged through her body every time she was reminded of him. What was more, that week in the country had only served to make her disconnect with her life in the city—her job, the traffic, the noise—more profound. She felt like she was sleepwalking half the time. Even the quitting her job at Sweet hadn't been as satisfying as she'd always imagined it would be. 

As she flipped through her photos her heart lurched. She spotted something she hadn't noticed before. In the background of one of the photos she'd taken in the woods her very first day there was a figure. She zoomed in, blowing up the tiny figure twenty times. It was Ben. He was standing just at the edge of the frame, hands in pockets. His face was intent. He was watching her. He had a small smile on his face and his eyes were warm and appreciative. She felt sick. He'd been so rude to her that day, so it surprised her to know that he had looked at her like this. The Ben in the picture was the Ben she'd spent the week with—lazing in bed, making love, laughing—and this was the only picture she had of him. 

She started to cry, first small gasps then long hiccupping sobs. She'd thought that her heartbreak had dulled slightly over the last two months. She was wrong. Pain and loss ripped through her stomach. And anger. Why had she given up so easily? Why had she let him push her away? 

She didn't care that they'd only spent a week together, she knew she loved him and she was pretty sure he loved her too—despite his bullshit. The same instinct that caused him to shut himself off to strangers had caused him to push her away before he got hurt, or before he hurt her. 

Well, fuck that, she decided angrily.



Rebecca turned left onto the bumpy road with a feeling of excitement and dread. She'd sold her condo and packed most of her stuff into storage, the rest was in Leah's garage. She was supposed to be headed east to capture the ice huts on PEI but she had to make a stop first. The publishers had given her two months to get the photos she needed and asked her to find someone to help her write copy—they'd been impressed enough by her freelance work and her copy at Sweet to allow her to exercise control of that aspect of the book, for which she was exceedingly grateful. She just happened to know someone who was a bit of an expert on ice fishing. Now she just had to get him to agree to do it. 

She pulled into the driveway in front of Ben's cabin and got out. It was early evening and she could see lights on in the kitchen. 

She knocked on the door and waited, her stomach clenched in nervous anticipation. The door swung open and Ben stood before her. Though it was only what she'd expected the sight of him caused her mouth to freeze and any opening statement she'd had planned died on her lips.

"Becca," Ben said in surprise, he stood there staring at her mutely for a minute the collected himself "what?...come in," he ushered her in and she followed. 

"Can I get you something? A drink?" he said.

"No, I'm fine. Look Ben...," she trailed off, she knew why she was here—it had all seemed so simple when she'd devised the plan—but now, seeing Ben here, in his home, she realized that getting him to agree with her plan might not be as easy as she'd thought. 

What if he doesn't even have feelings for me anymore? she asked herself, suddenly feeling sick.

It was hard not to worry but she'd heard—from a reliable source—that he'd been miserable these last few months and she could only assume it was because he felt the same way she did. She took a deep breath and looked up. Ben was standing about two feet away staring at her. By the look in his eyes, she knew she needn't have worried. 

He took two faltering steps towards then drew her to him, his lips meeting hers with a crushing intensity. They stood, kissing, lost in each other for several minutes. Becca's head was spinning, it felt to good to be back here, with Ben, kissing Ben.

"Ben—" she said breathlessly between kisses.

He laughed, "sorry, it's just, damn, it's so good to see you Becca," he said, trailing a calloused thumb over her chin.

"You too," she said softly. "I'm not just here for a visit though. I, well, I have a proposition for you," she swallowed then continued, "did you know that ice fishing huts in Saskatchewan don't have sleds or wheels on them but are tapered at the bottom so they can fit onto the flatbed of a truck?" she stammered nervously.

Ben looked at her incredulously, "um, no I, ah, didn't know that but it makes sense I guess...then you wouldn't need a trailer...wait why the hell are you telling me this?"

As she outlined her plan she watched his face. He seemed to be listening intently. He interrupted her when she told him about the publisher's contract for the coffee table book. "Becca, that's amazing! I'm so proud of you—" 

She stopped him with a wave of her hand. Now that she had his attention she wanted to explain her proposal quickly, build on the excitement she could see building in his eyes as she outlined her plan to travel across the country photographing the huts and cataloguing their differences. 

"So, the publisher, they want me to hire someone to help me out, do some research, talk to locals, someone who's an expert in the field so to speak...naturally, well, I thought of you," she paused.

Ben sat staring at her for a minute his face a mixture of emotions. He looked excited, pleased and worried all at the same time. "Wow, that's, well, that sounds amazing, really amazing. But you know I can't leave my mom here, she needs my help...I can't just pick up and go for two months, you know that Becca," he sounded genuinely disappointed.

"I know. But I spoke to your mom. She told me you've been miserable these last two months, 'even snarkier than usual' was how she put it," Becca laughed, "she also told me that your uncle is back on his feet but that you haven't been letting him help out, that you've insisted on doing all the work yourself like a madman," Becca looked at him accusingly.

"You talked to my mom?" he looked genuinely shocked.

"Well, yeah, I know it all sounds crazy Ben, but it's not. If you think it through it makes total sense. I mean, your mom told me she could manage without you for a while and I know you've been itching to go traveling again, what could be better than this? And they'll pay you. And, and, we could be together," she said that last, most important bit, quietly, hoping that it meant as much to him as it did her.

In the end, it took awhile but she managed to convince him. They went over every detail of the plan, she showed him the itinerary she'd agreed upon with the publisher, the contracts he'd have to sign, and outlined her vision for the book. 

The way she saw it each ice hut was a reflection of the person that built it, a reflection of their persona but they also reflected local culture. In PEI, for instance the huts were often decorated with scenes of local folk art. She wanted to showcase both the diversity and the ubiquity of the huts—their essential Canadian-ness. As they went over her thoughts she knew that her instincts had been right, Ben was more animated than she'd ever seen him and he had amazing ideas about why and how people constructed their huts. 

"You've really thought this all out, haven't you," he said in wonder.

"Yeah, I have, but you know it's not just that it makes sense, it's that, I don't know Ben, when I was looking at these pictures I just kept thinking of you, in fact, I've been thinking of you nonstop since I left here," she looked at him steadily, a question in her eyes.

"Fuck, Becca. I have too. You don't know how many times I've gotten in my car and started to drive, to come and see you, tell you what an asshole I was, that we should try to make this work, no matter what kind of bullshit I said but I always stopped myself, I just figured you'd gotten back to the city and resumed your life and...forgotten about me. I mean, I know I can't compete with all that."

"Ben, you don't need to. I don't want that. Being here, being with you, it made me realize that I wasn't happy there. I hated my job, I hated being so removed from nature. In a way, despite being in the center of everything I felt totally shut off from the world. And, I just, well," she gulped, "I love you," she said the last part quietly, her heart in her throat.

Ben smiled broadly, his eyes bright. He pulled her to her feet and led her down the hall to the bedroom. They undressed each other in silence, slowly, reverently, until they stood naked before each other. Rebecca's breath was shallow. She could feel every inch of her body tingling in awareness of Ben's proximity. As she raked her gaze over his tall, lean, muscled form, his bobbing cock thick and hard between his legs, she yearned for his touch.

He stepped closer and drew her face to his. "I love you too Becca, so much," he said kissing her.

They began to make love slowly, savoring every touch, every caress. Becca gasped when Ben entered her and cried out as he began to thrust. She dug her nails into the skin of his back, urging him more deeply inside of her. He kissed her neck, her breasts, her shoulders. His breath grew hoarse and labored and he groaned her name as he released inside of her. She found her own release then, her body wracked and spasming underneath his weight.

He kissed her softly and she stared into his eyes. She smiled. She knew, in that moment, that no matter what happened in the future, they could make this work. It was worth fighting for.



How To Break the Literotica Toplist



Have you ever wondered why some authors seem more popular than others? Why do some stories get so many views and votes, while others languish without the hope of a little red "H"? Why does it seem easier to get into the toplists in some categories but impossible in others? Is there some secret formula for writing a popular story?

Yes, actually, there is—at least to some degree. Every category at Literotica has its own essential theme, something that a majority of readers are looking for when they click on a story. These vary, of course, but just as there are real examples to fill any stereotype, there are formulas and reader expectations that apply to stories in each category. So if you're a writer who's always wondered how to break into the "toplists" on Literotica, read on!

First of all, I want you to note that the following advice is about how to write popular stories. I didn't necessarily say the most literary, or the best. We all know the books which make it to the NY Times Bestseller lists aren't always the most well-written or important, and so the stories that make it to Literotica's "toplists" aren't always, either. They just happen to appeal to the masses. This is a guide that will tell you what's popular and how to make your stories conform more to those guidelines so you'll be likely to draw in more readers. 

Secondly, everything that I'm about to say is a huge generalization. Of course there are exceptions, and none of these are true 100% or even 99% of the time. All I'm doing here is trying to give you an idea of what most readers want, so as a writer, if you want to cater to readers in order to write a more popular story, you can. This guideline, then, by no means encompasses all of Lit's readership, and sometimes categories are split almost 50/50, making them even more difficult to navigate and readers harder to please. 

Literotica "Toplists" consist of the first 75 highest ranked stories in each category. If your name is anywhere on that page, you will be much more likely to have your story—and any other stories you write—read by more people. If that's something you long for, then knowing what most readers want is going to help you write a story that appeals to the masses. Each category, though, has its unwritten rules and requirements, and not all of them are obvious. So, let's delve into what a majority of the readers are really looking for in each category...

Anal

Readers in this category want long, detailed, lurid descriptions of anal sex. I know, I know, that seems so obvious—but haven't you read stories in this category that are pretty much just a normal sex story with only a paragraph or two tacked on at the end, like an afterthought, where the anal sex actually occurs? That won't fly here if you want a popular story. Anal readers are... well... anal! They want the details, every last one, including long, preferably realistic descriptions of how it's done and how it feels. If you can do that, you'll rock the anal reader's world. Some authors on the toplist to look at: selenakittyn's Unfolding series for the female's view of anal and Mindfiend's Ass-ignation, for excellent, detailed descriptions.

BDSM

True sadism and masochism aren't often topics found in this category on Literotica. Popular stories are primarily varying versions and degrees of the domination/submission aspect of BDSM. The most popular stories explore the dom/sub relationship, how it manifests and how it looks and feels. Techniques and tricks and toys (which are all part of the BDSM world) are good, but secondary to the emotion and connection between the dom and the sub. If you want two good examples of BDSM, check out  A Good Student by Dr_Mabeuse or The Birdcage by Ohida.

Celebrities

This is one of the least read categories on all of Literotica. Celebrity fantasies tend to be very hit and miss, and their success is usually dependent on whether or not your reader has a fantasy about the particular celebrity you're writing about. So the key is: write about celebrities who are popular and hot. Of course, that's a broad range, since everyone's tastes are so different. My suggestion for this category, if you want to be on the toplist, is to know your subject, whatever it is, and write a real story. Don't just write a scene where the names could be changed, and instead of Sarah Michelle Gellar, it could be anyone having sex. This works best for fanfic stories, like the popular Buffy the Vampire Slayer series. Mindfiend writes excellent Buffy stories—his voice is accurate and dead on. That's key when writing in celebrities. See his Buffy and the Corruptor story in the celebrity toplist for a sample. 

Chain Stories

This is another low-read category, but the good news is, if you're involved in a chain, you'll at least get views and votes from the other chain members. If it's a big chain, you'll get lots of views and votes and most of them will be good (because the other authors won't want you to vote their story down when it comes time to post their own.) Most chain stories start with authors seeking a challenge, and they're more for writers than for readers. That said, there are good chain stories out there. So the best way to write a popular chain story is to get involved with a good chain, preferably a large one. These are found most often in the Author's Hangout, but there is a Chain Story Directory you can check on the Survivor board for contestants. Ordinary Lit readers are more likely to read your story if there are well-known authors in the chain, or if there is a title and theme that attracts them. It's helpful to have an original idea with broad appeal. A good example of a recent chain like this is the Laresa's World series. 

Erotic Couplings

This is the missionary position, the catch-all category of Literotica—if it doesn't fit anywhere else, writers put it here. Readers in erotic couplings are mostly looking for a good quality story with a sensual, erotic sex scenario. This is almost like the softcore porn channel of Lit—the hardcore stuff here is going to most likely get voted down. Things usually not liked in this category: m/m or f/f pairings (which should go in gay male and lesbian, respectively). "Couplings" in this case means hetero, if you want to write a popular story in this category. Look at Babes in the Wood by thewritemike if you want to see what's popular in this category.

Erotic Horror 

A misunderstood category if there ever was one... Perhaps it's a pet peeve of mine, but there should be a sign on the door: No Vampires and Werewolves Allowed. Those should go into the non-human category. But unfortunately, you'll find lots of Anne Rice wannabe's here along with your "I'm not a dog, I'm a werewolf!" stories. True Erotic Horror should encompass both eroticism and horror, in a way that's not always titillating, but should at the very least be shocking and—here's the important part—integral to the story. If you can take the sex out, and still have the horror, it's not really erotic horror. Okay, down off my soapbox. How do you write a toplist story in this category? Make it scary and horrific, make sure the sex and horror are somehow related, and make it a good story. Erotic horror readers are truly looking for a story, not just titillation. A great example of this is Scold's Bridle by BlackShanglan.

Exhibitionist and Voyeur 

Exhibitionist and voyeur are two halves of the same whole, but that doesn't always translate on the page. In a popular exhibitionist story, the arousal is in the enjoyment of exposure, which is usually accompanied by a certain amount of reluctance and shame. In a voyeur story, the focus is on the secret enjoyment of watching, unseen. Both of these require a different perspective and unfortunately often split the readership. The good news is that, while readers often prefer one perspective or the other, most can and do enjoy this category from either side. So what makes for a popular exhibitionist/voyeur story? From the exhibitionist side, it's all about the exposure and the thought of being seen. There are also common devices deployed in these stories: binoculars, cameras, dressing rooms, two way mirrors, watching from a crack in the door. A popular story in this category will give the reader lots of teasing and titillation. These stories require a definite slow build and rise in the action, culminating in some sort of satisfying final climax. A good example of this is Waking Up To Dawn by en_extase. 

Fetish 

You can't please everyone in this category. To write a popular fetish story, you really have to know your subject, specialize, and focus. Fetish stories are all about obsession. Pleasing readers in this category is all about getting into the particulars. Whatever fetish you're choosing to write about (and there are so many—panties, pregnancy, fisting, water sports, pantyhose, hairy women, milk, feet, you name it!) you must focus on the minute details. Readers will find the fetishes they're interested in, and you can become quite popular if it happens to be your fetish as well and you focus enough interest on it. A great fetish story writer is Oggbashan, and if you want to see an example of someone focusing on the details, check out Marianna Lends a Hand by furryfan—a story about the "hairy women" fetish.

First Time 

Stories in this category are primarily about the loss of virginity, and the most popular ones are about girls. Readers in this category want innocent teens being gently and lovingly led toward adulthood by a caring boyfriend. There usually isn't a huge age difference between the two main characters, and the girl should be a little hesitant, as good girls should be, but still willing and sweet. There are readers who want first time stories that involve young men as the main character as well, but innocence is still paramount and key. This category is truly about the loss of innocence, and the impact of that upon a character. A great example of this is Goodbye La La Land by MLyons.

Gay Male 

In spite of the category name, don't assume your audience consists only of gay men. They aren't the only people reading this category—there are many bicurious men out there, and believe it or not, lots of women adore this category. You have to be familiar with and know the ins and outs (ha, pun intended) of hot, sexy man-love. There's a strong, physical aspect to gay erotica, a lusty sort of passion, whether it's a story involving emotion and love, an in-depth exploration of sexuality, or a quickie in a parking lot. Whatever story you want to tell, in order to write something popular in this category, you need to make it hot, physical, and descriptive. An excellent example of something from gay male to look at is Sweet Music  by Tom Collins.

Group Sex

A very popular category on Literotica, but in spite of the name, it really isn't about "group" sex, in the sense of orgies. There is the odd gangbang or swinger type of story, but really, the most popular stories here are threesomes, and it's primarily the female/female/male version that readers want. There are some male/male/female versions, but if you're going to write one of those, I'd suggest a disclaimer at the top, because there are readers out there who might be offended by the gay male aspect of such a story outside of the gay male category—and don't expect it to make it to the toplist. A popular story in this category should have two women, one man, and will suspend the reader's disbelief that jealousy and fear aren't an issue for any of the people involved in the three-way. Remember, Lit readers want a fantasy, not what might really happen in that situation. Usually these stories involve a couple who adds a third (often the wife's best friend) and leaves the reader with a warm fuzzy feeling at the end. A good example of a group sex story from the toplists is King Size Bed by strickland83.

How To 

The most popular how-to's are easily readable, humorous, contain personal examples, show the writer's personality, and are about sex. There are exceptions, of course, but if you really want a shot at the toplist in this category, you'll follow that sort of formula. You also really need to know your subject or have done your research, because if you have errors in your how-to, readers will let you know it! BatsandGlamour writes great how-to's, and his  Breaking the Rules of Sex & Marriage currently sits at number one on the how-to toplist as I write this. 

Humor and Satire

This is a tough category, because humor is such a personal experience. Everyone's idea of what's funny tends to be different, so it's hard to tell you how to "make it funny." There honestly isn't a formula for this one. You can't appeal to the masses. Your best hope is to write what you think is funny and then post it and cross your fingers! Your response will probably be relatively small, but people who "get" your sense of humor will give you positive feedback, I'm sure. I'm not even going to attempt to give you an example in this category...!

Illustrated

If humor is one of the hardest to nail down, then illustrated is one of the easiest. This category is very straightforward—supply realistic, sexy illustrations to complement your story. It's that simple. Okay, maybe it's not that simple. It has to be a good, engaging story, and you have to be able to actually draw (or know someone who can!) With the new computer drawing programs, you might be able to circumvent that last requirement, although it seems that most people still enjoy hand-drawn work over computer-generated stuff. You can do a story with abstract images, or ones that aren't meant to be sexually arousing, if you want to, but don't expect to be on the toplists. Readers will feel cheated and invariably vote you down. One of the toplist stars in this category, Chris Cross, has a great example in Rock Chick.

Incest/Taboo 

This is Lit's money-maker, as they say. Probably eighty to ninety percent of Literotica's readers come to the site specifically to read this topic. There are writers out there who, after seeing the sheer numbers this category generates, will write incest stories just to get that volume of readers! The primary ingredient in any popular incest story is (are you ready?)... love. It's true. There are very few nonconsensual incest stories and they rarely do well. 

Readers of incest want to see love, and they want that bond to be so overwhelming the two (whether it's brother/sister, mom/son, father/daughter, doesn't matter) simply can't deny it—the very strength of that love is what compels them to commit such a taboo act. Yes, sexual desire, teasing, obsession, all of those are involved in the beginning, but ultimately, readers want to see the emotion driving the characters. If you can give readers that, in whatever pairing you're writing, you're already halfway there. 

Another aspect of incest that you have to pay attention to is dialogue. Remind readers of the familiar bonds by having characters state them—often. Have the brother call his sister "Sis" or "Sissy." In father/daughter stories, the daughter should call him, "Daddy," and in mother/son, "Mommy" should be reiterated (as in, "Mommy loves her little boy...") Without this, all you've got is another sex story. When you focus on those familiar bonds, you give the readers what they really want—the extra heat of the taboo. Just having related characters isn't enough—they have to be extremely aware of that relationship and find it arousing. That's why so often writers get their hand slapped when they write about "in-law" incest. Readers in this category find incest to be "cheating" because it doesn't highlight the taboo nearly enough. 

On top of that, each incest pairing has its own set of genre requirements. Brother/sister tends to be about the older sibling fulfilling the role of sexual teacher, leading the younger one into the adult world with love and knowledge. 

The mother/son pairing focuses generally on a reluctant desire to give in. Mother should be full of angst over her attraction, but eventually, she finds it too much for her to deny, so she falls into a sexual relationship. There's a great deal of reluctance at first, but she ultimately finds it totally amazing and fulfilling. As with any older woman story, here or in the Mature category, the reader wants to hear about certain physical attributes—larger breasts and copious amounts of pubic hair symbolize her maturity and maternal nature, for example. 

The father/daughter category tends to split on whether the reader is male or female. Women who read this category want a daddy figure, and men want the young, nubile Lolita. For the most part, the popular stories in this category should be a father lusting after an innocent, beautiful young girl, and being drawn into a sexual relationship. The girl should be teasing and tantalizing, but in fairly innocent ways—just testing out her sexuality, but still generally sweet and pure. There are physical requirements here as well. The daughter should be petite, small-breasted, and have little or no pubic hair (all which symbolize youth and virginity.) Mindfiend's Stacy series is a good example in the incest category of the brother/sister pairing.

Interracial Love

The politically correct tyranny of our society today often keeps this category from going as far as it could. Still, the most popular stories in interracial remain black men and white women, with racial language playing a major role. Yes, the black man should be well-endowed, the woman usually fair-skinned and petite. If you want to know how to get into the toplists, you need to give readers what they want. In this category, it's still the stereotype. If you're going to write a less popular interracial pairing, make sure to highlight the differences and the obvious taboo in the pairing of two races and cultures. Remember, that's the titillating part for readers in this category. Housewife Porn Star by karenkay is a good example of what readers are really looking for in this category.




How To Break the Literotica Toplist



Lesbian sex 

Do you know the answer to the question: "Who watches the most girl on girl porn?" If you answered: Men! You're correct. The majority of the readers in this category are male, followed by bi-curious females, with actual lesbians bringing up the rear. So the majority of readers will be looking for stories of (legal, of course!) teen girls having gentle, exploratory sex with their friends. If you want to make the toplist, I wouldn't write about rough sex, fist fucking, dykes, butches or ass play. To write a popular story in this category, think about male-oriented fantasy porn, and you've pretty much got it. Secret Kisses by stepjones is a perfect example. 

Letters and Transcripts 

The key element here is in how realistic you can get the piece to seem. The readers want to believe it's a letter or conversation that actually happened, rather than a creative piece. My Moment of Weakness by RebeccaBrowning is a great example.

Loving wives

This is the strangest category. "Loving" in the title at first seems like a misnomer, because basically, this category involves some sort of infidelity. The idea, often, is that the wife or husband "loves" their partner so much they're willing to give them anything they want—even another lover. Be forewarned, writing in this category takes a strong ego and the ability to withstand some pretty caustic criticism, because fans of this category are very vocal and opinionated, and often use the story comment sections to argue and debate their beliefs about infidelity. To write a popular story in this category, you need all the details. Readers here want to know characters' histories, motivations, all the details of their lives that led up to the infidelity, etc. and often the aftermath as well. Revenge stories are popular in this category. Usually, you're going to split your readership no matter what you do, because there are those that like the cuckold fantasy, and those who feel anything short of shooting a spouse who cheats makes the wronged partner a "wimp." There are authors who succeed here, though, and if you want to know what a popular Loving Wives story looks like, check out the Fool's Envy series by S-Des.

Mature 

The most popular stories in this category are men with older women fantasies. There are a smaller percentage of stories that are younger woman/older man. The key to writing a good mature story is that the older partner should be comfortable in their sexuality, knowledgeable, and willing to fulfill the teacher role. For older women, there should be a physical indication that she's older—larger breasts and thick pubic hair, for example. For the older man/younger woman fantasy, the girl should be the petite, small-breasted, Lolita type. A good example of the older woman as teacher can be found in The Process of Illumination by Barb36D. 

Mind Control 

The most popular stories in this category are about sexually immature males with little or no experience who dream of being able to have the power to make women fulfill their sexual desires. To write a popular story in this category, you usually need to have a male adolescent main character who can suddenly get all the popular cheerleader types who have always been mean to him to do whatever he wants them to sexually. Revenge scenarios are popular, here, too. The Alan series by juliancoreto is popular in this category.

Non-Erotic 

This is a pretty self-indulgent category on a sex site. Stories here are most often about writers working out a personal demon of some sort, and those that are popular happen to coincide with the personal demons of the masses. All By Myself by leapyearguy is an example.

Nonconsent/Reluctance 

This is a complex category and, like Gay Male and Loving Wives, one that's difficult to excel in because so many readers will vote stories down simply because they don't agree with the basic premise. The readership is also split along gender lines, making it even harder to write something that appeals to the masses. This category is about power, either having it or not, and sex just happens to be the method by which it's expressed in a non-consent story. Like the exhibitionist/voyeur category, it's two halves of the same whole, but it isn't always expressed with the same perspective. Women who read and have rape fantasies want to experience a loss of control—they want to be dominated and forced. For men who read and have rape fantasies, it's about being in control, dominating, and forcing a woman to his will. The most popular stories in this category will come at the power dynamic from one of those two perspectives, and will give the reader a vicarious experience that is "safe" to live out in story form. Hunted by furrybert is an example from the masculine perspective.

NonHuman 

Now here is where we find our Anne Rice vampire wannabe's and "I'm not a dog, I'm a werewolf!" stories. Also stories about aliens, ghosts, androids, fairies, demons, catgirls, things with tentacles—you name it. If you want to write a popular story in this category, you have to have a good grasp of the genre the creature you're writing about usually lives in. For example, most vampire lovers want the dark, brooding, irresistible sort. Also, readers here want sexual descriptions involving the weird and surreal aspects of these characters, so detail is important. Yes, they want to hear about large, hairy wolfman penises and tiny, little fairy vaginas. I'm not kidding. To write a really popular story in this category, it helps to have a little bit of a fetish in one of these areas, to make the details appealing to the reader. A great example is Dirty Alice Black's Wolf Man series.

Novels and Novellas 

Novels and Novellas can be split into chapters or posted whole, but most readers seem to prefer the chapters, released a day or so apart, sort of like reading a serial story. Novels and novellas implies a longer work—don't post short stories here (anything under a total length of 25,000 words, I'd say, should go somewhere else.) Any genre goes here, of course, but the most popular are the romance novels. DanielleKitten's Saint's Quest is a good example, and even won a monthly award. 

Reviews and Essays 

I know this category says reviews and essays, but reviews are less popular than essays. For essays, as with how-to, the most popular are easily readable, humorous, contain personal examples, show the writer's personality, and are about sex. Again, BatsandGlamour excels at this with In Praise of Older Women.

Romance 

This category is fairly simple to excel in, actually, especially if you've read a lot of formulaic romance novels. If you want to write popular stories here, make your characters larger than life, the situation pushing the boundary of belief with lots of adventure and conflict, have tons of sexual tension and banter between the hero and heroine before the first sex act, and make the sex more prosaic and softly done than hardcore descriptive. The number one requirement for a popular romance story, though, is some sort of Happily Ever After or Happy For Now ending. The queen of Literotica romance is DanielleKitten, and her A Gift of Love is a good example of what is popular in this genre. 

Sci-fi and Fantasy 

Storytelling and world-building is the key element in this category. Writing popular stories in this genre is all about how well you can immerse the readers into your created world, whether that's an alien universe or some magical realm. Colleen Thomas wrote superb lesbian sci-fi stories, creating worlds of depth equal and beyond many professional authors. See her The Run for an example. The sex in these tales is really just an incidental bonus as your readers are mostly focusing on the world you're creating. The Danica series by Darkniciad, does a good job of balancing both—great sex and great world building.

Text with Audio 

Readers in this category are seeking a sexual experience beyond that of just reading words on the page. In these stories, you need to get to the action quickly, or at least put something in at the start to grab and hold the reader's attention. The other primary thing that makes these popular is a sexy, woman's voice reading the story. If she orgasms (or at least sounds as if she does) during the story, it's even better. Women with accents are very popular, as in Kitten's Playtime by sxy_kitten and Just For You by Asian Princess. These are stories that don't have an actual text to follow along with. There are popular authors who do write stories and read them in a sexy female voice, though, like the Bluebeard's Wife series by SelenaKittyn, which has proven quite popular.

Toys and Masturbation 

This category caters primarily to men who like to see women masturbate. The most popular stories here should be female narrated, and about women. Toys and fingers and lots of detail will make the readership here very happy. My Time Alone by LilacWine is a great example. 

Transsexual and Crossdressers.  

This category is almost a cross between fetish and gay male. As in fetish, detail is paramount, especially in the case of a cross-dressing story. Also, your primary readers are probably men with latent homosexual/bi fantasies that read this category who refuse to read gay male, so the pronoun "she" is important here, even if she has a male appendage. My Initiation by cdandy is a good example of how to write a popular story in this genre.

Now, those are obviously just guidelines about what makes a story popular in any given category. It doesn't take anything else into account. If you write a story with any of the above elements so riddled with errors and human sexual positions which defy the laws of physics that your reader can't get past the first paragraph, you're going to seriously lessen your chances of getting onto the toplists. 

If you already manage to write a decent story, though, and you employ the aforementioned formulas, you're going to increase your readership considerably—and probably make it into a toplist or two. Once you've made it there, you need to decide if and how you want to keep your momentum. There are writers who have made it to the toplists once or twice, and that's it. There are writers who have written hundreds of stories, whose names are all over the toplists. You need to decide which you want to be. 

If you want to keep and maintain a readership, there are three more ideas I will leave you with. My first suggestion would be to write as a woman. A huge percentage of Literotica readers are male, and most of them really enjoy reading stories written by a woman (or someone they believe to be a woman.) I would also suggest never writing a story in 2nd person—1st or 3rd person is best. And my last suggestion would be to keep your readers happy—write what they like, write it well, and write it often. 

----

I hope this little how-to helped give you an idea of what a majority of readers are looking for on Literotica. Remember to take time to enjoy your newfound fame and all those little red H's! One last little hint... remember that the toplists are based on votes, so ask the readers to vote at the end of your story, something that looks like this: Thank you for reading! Please leave me feedback and remember to vote if you enjoyed my story! 



How to Break Up with Your Girl



Lisa Richards was a hot looking little redhead that I was dating back when I was going to CSUF. Her true defining feature was her cute little round upturned ass and the fact that she loved to give head and swallow. When it came to oral, very few girls even came close to her abilities. The problem with Lisa however was that she was a royal bitch.

On our first date I took Lisa to the Red Lobster in Fullerton for some dinner. Back in the day Red Lobster was considered fine dining for us poor starving college students. On the way there Lisa asked me if I had ever gotten a blowjob in a car before. I lied of course and told her that I hadn't. Well the girl dove right down in my lap and started giving me great head. The way that woman treated the head of my cock made me think of all the lollipops she must have practiced on to get so good.

Lisa had a very small mouth and couldn't go down very far, but made up for it with her enthusiasm. Her dyed red hair flew all over the place as she bobbed up and down and around on the head of my cock. People driving by probably thought I had some crazy furry critter jumping up and down in my lap. Up ahead the intersection light was red. I thought about telling Lisa to stop when all of a sudden a police car pulls right up next to me on the passenger side. Right then and there I knew I was going to get busted my the cop and took a deep breath. Lisa asked me if everything was alright and I told her just to stay still. I then glanced over at the cop who is now watching the show. The cop grins and gives me the thumbs up sign before driving off. 

Lisa then starts to jerk the shaft of my cock really hard with just the head in her mouth. I start to come very intensely and all of a sudden realize that I'm going to be a mess and we still have to go to dinner. Lisa pulls her lips off of my cock with a smile and I look down at my dick anticipating the mess I need to clean off. Lo and behold, not a drop of cum left. This fine little ho has sucked me dry and swallowed every last drop of my juice. Not bad for a first date.

The food at dinner was decent as was the conversation. We chatted about classes and what companies we wanted to work for when we graduated. One thing that started bothering me was the level of sarcasm that Lisa put out. She had to make fun of everything and everyone. Lisa even made fun of the waitress and made some rude comments in front of her about the service. I didn't really care at the time since I was still glowing from the great blowjob she had given me.

Back then I was living in the Nutwood apartments across the street from CSUF so I invited Lisa to come over for some drinks. I made a few Long Island iced teas and put on a video. One thing led to another and soon we were both naked. Lisa of course dove on my dick right away and started slurping to her hearts content. Now that my balls were free from the previous confines of my pants she paid much more attention to them. I wanted to fuck her, but she told me to just lay back and enjoy.

All of a sudden I felt Lisa's tongue start to move south of my balls towards my anus. I'd never had a girl do this before but had heard the term salad tosser from a friend. Lisa then put both hands under my ass and dove her tongue right into my ass crack. My ass must have bounced a foot in the air. I'd never had this happen before and to tell you the truth, it was quite enjoyable. Lisa spent at least ten minutes down there giving me the most intense rim job that I've ever had, even to this day. The whole time Lisa was sucking and tonguing my asshole, she continued to stroke my cock very slowly with her free hand. I couldn't take much more and begged her to stop so that I could fuck her. In a voice that was muffled by my ass crack she told me that she never fucked on a first date. For some reason that put me over the edge and I started shooting hot cum towards the ceiling. As soon as I started coming, Lisa dove her tongue deep into my asshole. As I came my puckered ass squeezed her tongue hard with each shot. The juice landed on my groin, stomach and some even hit the cheek on my face. 

Lisa removed her face from my ass crack and placed my still hard cock back in her mouth and started sucking slowly. Thirty seconds later I shot even more cum out of my dick and into her waiting mouth. Lisa then started sucking up all the come on my body from my first shot and swallowed it all. She even licked the cum off of my cheek. I pushed away from her when she tried to kiss me. The smell of ass and my own cum doesn't really do it for me. Lisa then hit the shower, thanked me for dinner and took off.

I spent the next day with a big smile on my face imagining how good Lisa would be in bed. If this girl can fuck as good as she gives head, I'm set. 

Later in the day I run into a couple of friends on campus and tell them about my adventures with Lisa the night before. My friend Steve immediately warns me that I've made a big mistake. Turns out that Steve has heard some bad things about Lisa and is trying to spoil my fun. Not really taking anything that Steve ever says to seriously, I continue on with my day and look forward to seeing Lisa in class later.

I ended up getting to class a little late and had to walk in while the teacher had just started talking. As I walk in the door, Lisa jumps up and runs over to me and plants a kiss on me. She then grabs my hand and walks me over to sit next to her where she has saved me a seat. The instructor frowns at me, but doesn't say anything. Four times during class, Lisa reaches over and grabs my dick through my pants in plain site of the neighboring students. This activity is a little embarrassing, but still a turn on none the less. After class she invites me over to her parent's house. She breathes into my ear that her parents are out of town and she wants me to fuck her on their bed. Her words give me an instant boner which I have to cover up with my backpack for the next fifteen minutes.

Turns out that Lisa's parents are on the rich side of life. Their house is huge and sits on some nice acreage. Good oral and rich parents start to put Lisa in a very favorable light with me. As soon as I get inside Lisa jumps me and goes for my belt buckle. This is one impatient girl. I then tell her to chill for the moment and show me the house so that I can make sure that no one is there. Looking mildly irritated she gets back up to her feet and shows me around. 

When we get to her parents room, Lisa strips down immediately and jumps on the bed. Lisa is about 5'4" tall and has a great little athletic body. Small boobs, but a very round little butt and narrow waist make up for it. I strip down as well and we start making out on her parent's bed. Right away she dives down on my dick, but does it in a 69 position. This is great for me since I haven't had a chance to eat her pussy yet. Her pussy is the perfect shape with very little hair. My tongue has a great time dancing around her small clit and puffy little pussy lips. Lisa then goes for my asshole again with her tongue, but this time while we are in the 69 position. The feel of her tongue trying to penetrate my ass while her small tits rub on my dick is quite enjoyable. 

After a few minutes of this fun I roll her off of me and attempt to mount her missionary style. Right as I'm about to penetrate her she pushes me away and starts struggling against me. I of course stop and ask her what's wrong. She then asks me why I just stopped. I'm really confused now. This girl just pushed me away and is now asking me why I stopped. I attempt to mount her again which causes her to push me away and struggle once more. The bitch even slaps me across the face. Now I'm pissed and ask her what the fuck is wrong with her. Lisa smiles at my frustration and explains to me that she likes guys to force themselves on her. She tells me that no matter what she says or does I can still fuck her.

Suffice it so say the next hour or so was pretty crazy. I fucked the shit out of Lisa in every position I could think of. One problem however, Lisa didn't fuck me back. The whole time she laid there as if she really was being raped. I also noticed that even though she liked to toss my salad, she didn't seem very fond of having her puckered hole played with. After I came all over her she let me know that she loved how I had taken her and fucked her on her Daddy's bed.

Later that night I got home and found eight messages from her asking me to call her and telling me that she loved me. I then decided that this chick was too fucked up in the head for my liking and that my friend Steve might have been right when he warned me about her.

For the next week Lisa hounded me night and day. She begged me to let her come over. She would even tell me nasty shit, like how she missed the taste of my cum, etc. Lisa was also starting to fuck up my chances with the other girls around campus with her constant cock blocking. After hearing the tenth call on my answering machine that day from Lisa, I came up with a plan and invited Lisa over to watch some TV. 

As soon as Lisa came over, I grabbed her and threw her into the bedroom. She tried to resist, but was no match for my size and strength. Her eyes gleamed with sexuality and obvious horniness as she realized that I was going to force myself on her and there was nothing she could do about it. I pushed her on the bed and ordered her to strip naked. She refused so I reached down and grabbed her by the throat. Not hard enough to cause damage, but just enough to show her that I meant business. 

She quickly stripped and lay back. I then thrust my cock in her mouth which she obviously liked and told her to start sucking. As I mentioned before, Lisa was great at working the head, but couldn't go much deeper. I took the opportunity to teach her how to deep throat. Grabbing her by the back of the head I started thrusting deeper into her mouth. She quickly put her hands on my hips and tried to push away. This won't do I told her and thrust her back on the bed. I then went into the closet and found my toolbox. I told her to roll over onto her stomach which she refused to do. I then jumped on her and forcefully rolled her over onto her stomach. Taking both of her arms I duct taped her hands together behind her back. Pulling her back up me then reintroduced my dick to her mouth. I could tell that this new treatment was sort of freaking her out, but at the same time her pussy was dripping wet with excitement.

My dick had softened while I was taping her up so I took the opportunity to shove my entire dick in her mouth. She immediately gagged so I pulled back out. As soon as she regained her composure I shoved my dick back in her mouth. This time I could only get about half of it in since I was so hard now. My cock head was jammed up against the back of her throat and needed to go deeper. 

I then took Lisa and laid her on her back with her head hanging over the bed. In this position I had a much better angle to start throat fucking her. Lisa had stopped gagging and now seemed to be enjoying what I was doing to her throat and mouth. I decided to kick it up another notch and with one thrust buried my dick all the way into her throat. Lisa body started shaking and thrashing around on the bed. Her natural instinct was to get away since she couldn't breathe, but couldn't since her hands were tied behind her back and I was holding her down with my dick in her throat.

Lisa started shaking from lack of air, so I pulled my cock out of her throat and rolled her over. Here is where my plan came into action. I had noticed that Lisa wasn't into having her ass touched, but she had given me permission to do whatever I wanted and not to stop no matter what she said. Still limp from the throat fucking I had just given her, she lay on the bed face down catching her breath.

I then climbed on top of her and started rubbing the head of my cock against her ass crack. She moaned at first obviously thinking I had plans for her pussy. When I pushed the tip against her asshole she yelled out that I couldn't fuck her ass. I told her to shut the fuck up and pushed my lubricated thumb inside her ass. She yelped loudly as my first knuckle made it past her tight sphincter. Since I was tired of hearing her complain and she had given me carte blanche earlier I shoved her face into the pillow. 

After removing my thumb from her now quivering butt hole I placed my cock head against it. At first her asshole wouldn't give, so I put more spit on my dick and forced the tips of two fingers inside. Lisa howled into the pillow at this invasion. My plan was definitely going to work. I had planned to push this girl way beyond her limits so that she would quit harassing me. Now that her asshole was a little looser from my two fingers I decided to try again. 

Lisa clenched her butt hole so tight that I couldn't force the fat head of my dick inside of her. I then tried something that I had read about in a Penthouse letter. I smacked Lisa on the ass cheek really hard with my left hand. The shock immediately loosened up her ass hole and my dick plunged right in. For the next half hour I fucked the hell out of her ass while ignoring her pleas for me to stop. Her tight little sphincter gripped me so hard that my dick swelled up to maximum size. I finally pulled out of her ass and forced my dick back into her mouth. I was going to make sure that this chick never wanted to hound me again. Forcing my dick deep into her throat caused Lisa to start convulsing again. I'm also pretty sure she was repulsed by the fact that the dick that had just been in her ass was now in her mouth. I was now determined to throat fuck her until I came. Ignoring the tears streaming down her face I kept wedging my dick into her mouth and throat until I shot load after load straight into her stomach. I then told her to get dressed and get the fuck out of my house. She's never called me or bothered me since. :} 



How to Buy a New Car



Did you notice that the name of this article is how to buy a new car and not how to get sucked into buying an SUV, mini-van, or a pickup truck?

I love cars but I hate SUV's, mini-vans, and pickup trucks. SUV's, mini-vans, and pickup trucks are too big, too heavy, gas hogs. Okay, pickups are cool if you live on a farm or on a ranch or if you need that type of vehicle for work, otherwise, do not buy one. And SUV's have some value if you have the need to go off-road, live in the back country, and cannot possibly drive a car on the unpaved road, unless you are motoring in an Audi Quattro. Yet, how many of you who own SUV's have ever taken your vehicle off road? I figured as much.

So, why should you not buy an SUV, mini-van or a pickup truck? Because they are not as safe as cars, and the reason why they are not as safe as cars is because the Republicans, back in the '80's under President Ronnie, who should have won an Oscar for his starring role as Mr. President, duped the public by working with auto manufacturers' lobbyist in creating a legal loophole that bypassed the CAFÉ laws.

What are the CAFÉ laws? Corporate Average Fuel Economy that stipulates that the cars sold by automobile manufacturers must average, throughout their fleet of cars sold, 27.5 miles per gallon by 1985. Exempt from the CAFÉ laws were, you guessed it, trucks, ergo, the legal loophole. 

Do you know what the first thing that General Motors did when they passed that loophole to circumvent the CAFÉ laws? They closed the plants that made the big, safe, body on frame, Chevy Caprices, Pontiac Bonnevilles, Oldsmobile's 88 and 98, Buick Roadmasters, and Cadillac Fleetwood Broughams. Why? Because those cars cost more to build than the shit that they threw together calling them SUV's, mini-vans, and pickup trucks, GM made a fortune.

And those mini-vans and SUV's that you people put your beloved children in are, yep, right again, trucks. Did you know that trucks are not as safe as cars? Why? Because trucks do not have to adhere to the same set of safety laws that cars must. Trucks, until just recently, did not have to have head restraints, side impact beams, or gas tanks relocated so that they were not behind the drivers' seat, blow up in a crash, and douse the occupants with gasoline.

All of those rollover crashes that you read about where people are thrown from their SUV's or out the back door of their Chrysler mini-van, which has since been fixed, opens and bounces junior along the highway or the roof caves in and dents your head just enough to kill you, well that is your lawmakers not protecting you but lining their pockets instead with free vacations and other perky gifts given to them by the auto industry. Trucks, as do cars, do not have to have doors that, once locked, will not pop open. Whereas a car roof must hold 1 ½ times the weight of the car on it's roof, trucks only have to hold as much weight as two cases of beer, which is why their roofs collapse in an accident.

You don't believe me? Just go to a junk yard. Do you see that crumpled up piece of metal that looks like an erector set gone bad? Yeah, that was a mini-van. Nice, huh? Trust me; anyone sitting in that piece of shit did not survive that accident.

"Hey, Freddie, what is erotic about buying a car, anyway? Did you forget that this is Literotica?"

Cars, not SUV's, mini-vans, and pickup trucks, are rolling erotica. Whether it was Elvis's pink Cadillac, the Beatles' psychedelic Rolls Royce, Janis Joplin asking the Lord to buy her a Mercedes Benz, the Beach Boys singing about their GTO and the Chevy 409 or the 50's hit, Hot Rod Lincoln, cars are erotic. What about the sports cars from Italy, such as, Maserati, Lamborghini, and Ferrari, now those are erotic exotics? And who would not want to be seen pulling up to an expensive nightspot getting out of a 16 cylinder, 1,000 horsepower, 253 mile per hour Buggati Veyron? Talk about erotic, if you were a guy pulling up in that 1.4 million dollar car, you'd have your choice of gals or if you were a woman pulling up in that car, you'd have me.

"Welcome to Chez Exorbitant's valet parking. I will park your Buggati for you?"

"Not on your life, pal. I'll park my own damn car." 

For me, put me in the driver's seat of a Mustang Cobra 500 coupe, orange, with black racing stripes, black wheels, and a six speed transmission. Man, I can't believe this is 2007 and not 1967 all over, again. Suddenly, I feel like Mark Donahue reincarnated. Now, this is what Carroll Shelby and Lee Iacocca had in mind when they teamed up over the Mustang to create the Shelby Cobra.

You just have to look at the two-door convertibles, such as, the Mazda Maita, Porsche Boxster, Chevrolet Corvette or the Dodge Viper to understand what the designers were thinking about when they designed those low slung, sexy cars. 

"Honey, I don't understand how having sex with me three times a day helps you to design the interior of a Mercedes CL 600?"

And what about Oscar Meyer's wiener mobile, now if that vehicle is not an erotic phallic symbol on wheels, then nothing is, and phallic symbols are, yes, erotic. Some think that a Checker Marathon taxi cab is erotic while others find the Mini Cooper erotic, no matter, what I am attempting to do here is to help you buy your dream car, be it an erotic vehicle or a practical vehicle. Do you remember those big station wagons back in the '60's with the shag carpeting and mood lighting? That was erotic, especially if you were taking one of those to the drive-in with Becky Sue. Hey, you may like your car so much that you may want to have sex in it or sex with it. Now, there's a story.

"I was on my knees in the driveway with my ass up in the air as he slowly backed up the driveway until the exhaust pipe of the Lexus 430SC convertible penetrated me anally. It felt so good, so hot, that I thought I had blown a gasket. Just to be fucked by my automobile was like no other experience I have ever had. I was blowing out exhaust fumes for a week."

"The court remands this woman in the custody of the state for 30 days observation."

Besides, you cannot turn on your television without seeing a new car ad with some sexy woman behind the steering wheel or sitting in the passenger seat. If you don't believe me, just go to an auto show if you doubt that new cars are not about sex. Sex sells and scantily clad, pretty women sell cars. Do you remember all of those X-rated calendars that they had hanging in the full-service gas stations, when they had full service gas stations and the stations were owned by Joe or Bob or Ed and before they were owned by Muhammad, Habbib or Ali Babba? Additionally, you can tell a lot about people by the cars that they drive. Unfortunately, that is, yet, another story for another time.

"Hey, did you see the guy driving the Yugo? You can tell he's not getting any sex."

At one time or another, starting with Dinah Shore with Chevrolet, every celebrity has stepped in the shoes of a sales representative and pitched a car to the public. "See the USA in your Chevrolet." From the Nash Rambler to the Volkswagen Beetle to the Brinklin to the DeLoreon, cars and sex have unified in creating a need and an image, an erotic one at that, to sell cars. We Americans are in love with our cars and have had an ongoing love affair with the automobile since Henry rolled out the first Model T. Now, what part of love is not erotic?

Nonetheless, no matter if your dream car is designed to pick up chicks, if you are a guy, or guys, if you are a chick or whomever, if you are gay or lesbian, or if your dream car is designed to drive back and forth to work, haul the kids to soccer games or to run to Wal-Mart, this how to story should help you to buy a new car.

That's right, new car. This article is written for new car buying and not used-car buying. The reason for that is simple. Unless you know the previous owner, I do not trust buying a used car from a dealership or from a private seller. There are way too many variables that can cause you to buy a lemon. There are still too many flood cars sitting in used car lots throughout the United States with transferred titles from Louisiana and Mississippi.

"Hey, look, Honey, I found a fish in my engine compartment. I wonder how it got in there."

The first step to buying a new car is to remove sex from your purchasing plan. That's right, get that girl wearing the mini-skirt and low-cut blouse out of your car and out of your head. Seriously, that red Mustang may attract babes, but did you forget that you are married with children? Hey, a mini van can be sexy, kind of, not really, not at all, you are screwed, Dude, if your dream car is a Plymouth Voyager or a Honda Odyssey.

Decide on which car you want and stick with it. Believe it or not, this is the most difficult part of buying a new car, making a decision which make and model to buy. So many people change their mind in mid-sale, flip flop because they think this one is on sale or the dealer has the exact color that they want on the lot for the price they can afford, only in a different make and model.

Pick the make and the model and do not allow the salesperson to change your mind or to bait and switch you. Yet, before you amble down to the dealership, buy a book, like Edmunds new cars or you can do this on line, too, at their web site, and go through the options picking out the color, the interior, and the accessories noting all the prices. When you have your dream car priced out, take your list to the dealer, and tell him what you want to pay for the car. If he does not want to sell you the car for what Edmunds tells you to pay for the car, get up and start walking out. He will stop you before you reach the door.

"Hey, while you were walking towards the door, my sales manager came over and gave me the high sign. He has accepted your offer of $100 over invoice and not the $2,000 over manufacturer's sticker that I wanted."

Next, never buy a car off the dealer's lot. In case you were not paying attention, allow me to repeat this. Never buy a car off the dealer's lot. Oh, trust me, they will tell you that it is cheaper to buy a car that his been sitting on their lot for weeks or for months, but it is not. They will try and convince you to buy that car that has been sitting there all winter. Why? Because they have been paying finance fees to have that car sitting on their lot in the hopes of selling it. The longer that car has sat there, the more that car has cost the dealer in overhead and the more the dealer must ask for it. Moreover, the dealership is giving their sales staff more incentive, ergo commission, when selling cars off the lot. The salesman will try and dissuade you from ordering a car because he will make more commission when you buy off of his lot. Order the car. Let me repeat that because this is really important. Order the car. 

Most people do not know that you can order a car and those who do know that they can order the car do not order the car because they do not want to wait the 8 weeks for the manufacturer to make the car; they want it now. Fewer than 5% of all new cars sold are ordered vehicles. Besides getting the color that you want, you can pick and choose the options that will really make your car not only last longer but also perform better. The good items that improve the performance and/or durability of a car are never found on a car that is already sitting on a dealer's lot nor will you ever find that special custom color.

Dealer lot cars do not have sport suspensions, posi-traction, heavy duty brakes, heavy duty suspensions, engine oil and transmission oil coolers, wider wheels, performance rear end gear ratios, and performance tires nor will they have the really good colors that will make your car stand out from all the other Chevy Impalas or Toyota Camry's. Dealers' cars only come in black, blue, red, white, and silver. You want a gold, green, purple, yellow, or an orange car? That's a special order.

I'll give you an example. One of the best cars on the road is the BMW 3 series. Now, I dare you to go to any BMW lot and find a new BMW with a sport package. What is a sports package and why do I want it? Well, if you are buying a 335, the sports package is only $400 more and if you are buying a 328, then the same sports package is $1,200. And what you get for that additional $400 or $1,200 are two Recaro seats, wider wheels, better suspension, and better tires. Now, if you were to duplicate that package after you bought the car, well, just the Recaro seats would cost you $3,000. You will only find that package on an ordered car or on a car that was previously ordered by a customer and cancelled.

Matter of fact, if you are one of the lucky few buying a Bimmer, you can order a new car right from the factory. Once they make your car, BMW will pay your airfare and hotel stay to go to Germany to drive your car around before they ship it home to you. Moreover, most BMW dealers in the United States will not discount the car, but if you buy it in the mother land, they will discount it 7%. Now, 7% of 40,000 is $2,800, which more than pays for your trip to Bavaria.

It will take approximately 8 weeks for the manufacturer to make your special ordered car but you will receive a car exactly how you wanted it. And, surprise, it is cheaper to order a new car than it is to buy a new car from a dealer's lot. Why? Because an ordered car is like a consignment vehicle, the dealer never takes ownership of the car. The automobile passes from the manufacturer to you, the customer and the dealer does not incur any additional overhead in finance fees that they must recoup and pass along to you in the price you pay for the auto.

When is it a good time to buy a car? Today or tomorrow, it does not matter which day. Oh, they will tell you President's Day or the end of the month when the salesman are struggling to make their quotas or when the manufacturers are offering rebates. Nope. Not true. Whether you order your new car today or tomorrow, unless there is a price increase, you will pay the same price.

What do you need to order the car? All you legally need is $100 as a deposit. The dealer will ask you for a $1,000 or a $500 deposit, but all that is required under the law is $100, so do not give them a free loan of your money for two months. Besides, if something was to happen, you lost your job or if you were suddenly unable to afford the car, you may lose your deposit. I'd much rather lose $100 than $1,000.

Sure, if you are in the market for a Cadillac Seville and if Cadillac is having trouble moving Sevilles, then that is your lucky day because the manufacturer may have instituted a rebate program that the dealer will pass on to you, if you know it exists and if you ask for it. Some manufacturers' incentive plans can be as much as $5,000. Again, you can check the Edmunds web site to find out which manufacturers are offering what incentive programs and how much they are offering.

Should I trade in my old clunker? No! In case you missed that. Allow me to rewrite it. Never trade in your old clunker. Whatever you get by selling it to someone is more than the dealer will give you. Yeah, but the dealer offered me $1,000 for my junk box that is worth $100. Sure, and instead of giving you the 7-10% customary discount that he would have given you had you not traded-in your car, which, depending on the price of the car, is anywhere from $1,400 to several thousand dollars, he will gladly give you $1,000 off the retail list price of the car.

Even if you sold your old clunker for $100, you'd still be ahead because not only will you be $100 richer, but also you will have received your 7-10% discount on the purchase of a new car.

Lastly, whatever the dealer is selling, do not buy it. They will try and sell you Scotch Guard for your interior, rust-proofing for the car, alarms, and warranties. All of these items add to the purchase price. You do not need it. As a rule, if it does not come with the car from the factory, do not buy it.

Now, those that already are burdened with SUV's, mini-vans, and pickup trucks, set them on fire, collect the insurance money and reread this story to find out how to buy a car.

Good luck with your new car. Oh, you don't have to thank me. Just a 5 vote for my story and a nice comment is good enough for me. 



How to Buy a Sex Toy - FOR MEN



Author's note: This is for you, anonymous! You asked, you receive! Now you too can know just as much as I know about male masturbatory aids!

—

Fap... fap... fap... sigh... fap... fap... sigh... aw, is my poor little baby getting sick of using his hand to jerk off? I'm sorry to hear! What is that you say? You can't get laid? Awww.

But that's okay! Because there's a solution for every problem, and the problem of being plain and sick of ordinary jerking off and the secondary problem of being too hideous, fat, picky, drunk, addicted to video games, busy, only attracted to Asian hermaphrodites, wearing ugly plaid, nocturnal, sparkly, married to someone who doesn't put out, or gay to find a woman is a problem experienced by many men currently among the living. Because let's face it: either she's too picky, you're too picky, or a myriad of other things all cumulating in an essay on human sexuality, which wasn't why you came here.

You wanted to get off.

And you're sick of using your hand!

The personal topic of male masturbation is one experienced by likely many who visit this site, searching stimulation amidst the masses of literary works and quick to the point stroke-fics cluttering up Literotica. It's just you, your hand, and a bottle of lube. You know how to get satisfaction! But it's just not satisfying anymore!

BUT THAT'S OKAY BECAUSE you just need a sex toy, that's all! As great as Rosie Palmer and her five sexy daughters are, there's only one thing left to do.

HOW TO BUY YOUR FIRST SEX TOY—for men experiencing ennui, horniness, or a critical lack of a partner, or of course women experiencing penis envy. Itching, breaking, weird rashes, or STDs (sarcasm transmitted, duh) may occur. Use at your own risk.

Let's face it. Sex toys are a primarily female-centric industry. There are dildos coming out of the sex toy industry's fucking ass, and if you want something that looks like a disembodied penis that vibrates, well, you can throw a crappy porno DVD and hit twelve. This is because women have a lot harder of a time reaching orgasm, or perhaps because the male creators of sex toys have this strange fetish for vibrating disembodied cocks thrusting faster and faster into female pussies.

If you wanted a dildo, you won't have a problem.

Male sex toys are a bit more elusive.

STEP ONE - determine that this is what you want. Have you been fapping your penis raw? Have you jerked it so many times that there are finger shaped indentations in your cock? Does it take you three hours of masturbation just to come? Have you watched and downloaded every single bit of free porn available on the internet and you still can't reach satisfaction? Are you just plain and simply unsatisfied with your life?

Weigh the pros and cons. On one hand, you may need a male masturbatory aid. On the other hand, you may simply be experiencing ennui and wanderlust due to your midlife crisis. Maybe you just need a new job.

If your hand just isn't doing it and you're sure this is not because you're gay and not because you really, really want to bang a good looking woman, move on to...

STEP TWO - analysis your funds. If you are currently experiencing feelings of dissatisfaction due to the crickets in your piggybank and bats flying around in your bank account, you may not wish to dump several thousand dollars on the gold plated prostate vibrator. You can get a bullet vibe for a few bucks; you can get something to insert up your ass for a similarly cheap price. You can also spend absurd amounts of money on a really expensive ass toy.

The most well known male masturbation aid retails for approximately sixty-five dollars. If you want quality, you're going to be looking at the range between fifty to a hundred dollars.

Do you want your cock to enjoy the best? OF COURSE YOU DO. Can you afford a few thousand dollars on a masturbation machine? PROBABLY NOT. Would you rather buy a car? PROBABLY.

STEP THREE - Acquaint yourself with the various models of male sex toys on the market. You're going to find the following: artificial vaginas, artificial arses, artificial mouths, artificial hands, artificial OH GOD WHAT IS THATs, artificial inflatable women, and artificial things covered in fur and spikes. You will also find a wide variety of prostate massagers, buttplugs, and anal vibrators. Then there are the cock rings: either they vibrate or they don't. There is a significantly smaller array of male masturbators, as for the most part, your hand cannot be replaced and costs absolutely nothing.

The first category, artificial somethings, all have one thing in common: they're designed for you to thrust your hard throbbing cock in and out of repeatedly until you reach orgasm. One toy alone dominates this market: the Fleshlight. If you want cheap, you can always go the jar of peanut butter route. If you want a quality and lasting artificial something to thrust into, you're probably going to go the route of the Fleshlight.

There are, of course, other options. You can buy a silicone ass, a silicone face, a silicone stimulation of a real woman, a blow-up doll... take your pick. In the end, they're all intended for you to insert yourself into and repeatedly thrust until you reach orgasm.

One of the major deciding points in an artificial something should be how easily it can be cleaned. There are single use pocket pussies, and there are some that come apart to be easily cleaned post-orgasm. Do you want a one use novelty that looks like a take-out ramen container, or do you want something that can be reused and won't be filled with crusty dried sperm next time you indulge in a night of porn, lube, and tissue paper? It's the difference between your hand, a sock, and a condom.

Another deciding point should be, of course, transportability and discretion. The infamous Fleshlight is modeled to look like a flashlight. A real, modeled after life sex doll is not going to be so discreet. Do you want something that can be chucked into the back of your car for a camping trip without looking like you're kidnapping a rather sullen hooker? Or can you have Miss Blowmeup in your closet and feel safe that no one will ever knowwww?

Materials don't really matter quite so much in the realm of artificial pussies. Everything is likely to be made out of silicone. You won't find glass or metal here (ouch!), and you don't really have much choice. Go with silicone over the dubious 'jelly', which reminds me of the can't-hold'm toys from my childhood. Almost everything you encounter worth buying will be silicone. Do you want to thrust your quiveringly hard cock into a dubious blend of chemicals? Probably not! Go with the tried, tested, and true.

The second category of male sexual aids is of course, anal. Anal toys will not make you gay. Repeat after me: IT WILL NOT MAKE YOU GAY. A good prostate toy will add a whole new dimension to your orgasms.

Anal sex toys all have something in common: they have the weirdest names on the planet. MANGASM. Well, you wanted to mangasm all over the place anyway, right?

Make sure everything you get to stick up your tight little ass has a base, so that it won't vanish up your tight little ass. Sodomy is a fairly common household accident, if the ER has anything to say about it—and you really don't want to be rushing over to the hospital because a huge black dildo just vanished up your ass. Really, it'll be embarrassing. Toys intended for anal use will have a flared base, to keep them from disappearing. Do not just sit on a dildo. It will disappear.

Many ass toys for men will also include a ring on the end so that you can easily control its movements. Look for a toy with these features for usability.

Your options here include toys that vibrate, and toys that do not. This is a personal preference, and if you want something that vibrates, keep in mind that your options are significantly smaller than that of the female audience buying things that vibrate. Check out whether or not your toy will be rechargeable, and if not, what batteries will it require?

Otherwise, you have the choice of beads and buttplugs. Size isn't everything. Start small before working your way up to the massive, soda can wide plug with a massive flare. You don't want to hurt yourself. Hurting yourself will remove the fun.

If you get a silicone ass toy, do not use silicone based lube. Before inserting anything up your ass, involve copious amounts of lube. If there is any blood, you did not use enough lube. There should not be blood.

Again, silicone is probably your best choice for material. You want something that can be sanitized. There are also metal and glass anal toys available, and depending on your preferences, you may enjoy the solid feel of something metal in your ass. Whatever you pick, make sure it can be cleaned, and if not, pop on a condom. Especially with something that's going up your arse, you want to make sure that it'll come clean. If the sight of shit will bother you, definitely slide on a condom before any insertion play.

The third category of male sex toys is of course, things that go on your cock for sex. If you have a partner, a cock ring might be a valuable investment. But vibrating cock rings are more for her pleasure than yours. If you just want to jerk it, go with a pocket pussy, a prostate massager, or a combination.

There is of course, option four: buy a female sex toy. A vibrating bullet or egg can be used on the head of your penis, or held in your hand while you jerk it. Nothing says you can't use a penis shaped vibrator to vibrate yourself intimately if you want! And a Hitachi Magic Wand can be used by anyone, plus have the bonus side effect of being usable on a potential partner later.

There are a lot less creepy male sex toys out there, so chances are you won't run into the really, really weird ones unless you try (Baby Jesus plug, hairy toothy masturbator, etc) so check out the reviews, and buy the one you think will suit you best. Cheaper is not always better, but neither is expensive. You don't need a full life-sized doll to get off.

STEP FOUR - go and buy your sex toy! 

Either hop down to a porn store, or hop onto the internet! If you want discretion, the internet is the way to go. You can shop around and find decent sales, and most adult stores will ship discreetly. Heading down to an adult store may be the more embarrassing route, but you can also pick up other interesting accessories while you're there. You do, after all, want something to provide visual stimulation too, right?

The people who work in adult stores have seen it all, so brace yourself and head on down with your dollars and a budget. They can answer questions and will probably be able to direct you to a toy in your budget. If you're shy, hit the internet. Pick your toy, pick some lube, sweet talk Rosie Palmer into sharing for one night, and get back on Literotica for the self love of your dreams!

And for the love of donuts, don't forget the lube!



How To Buy Your First Sex Toy



You're of majority and now you're just plain and bloody well sick of using that electric toothbrush as a sexual object. Let's face it: bristly spinning brushes are not intended to be objects of lust and mysterious desires of the flesh. You want pleasure, and you want it now. And now that you're all warmed up, your fingers just aren't going to cut it anymore. You need something bigger, something better, something that has twelve different speeds of vibration and wiggling pink appendages, something that's jelly-coated and squishy and ejaculates lubricant into your moist and waiting pussy as it pulses in beat to the tune of your iPod and makes you a sandwich.

You need satisfaction and you need it fucking NOW!

Except maybe with a few less of those pulsing, squirming appendages, and a few less spikes and oh good Lord they make things like that to go into my what?

Welcome to the real world, where there's five bazillion different brands of sex toys that stimulation all twenty-seven erogenous zones on your body all at the same time with spikes, bristles, wooden revolving heads, coils, and carefully applied heat, cold, liquid nitrogen and irritating techno music while Hello Kitty's head spins and vibrates to stimulate your ass. You can get them in any color of the rainbow, in fifty-seven interesting unknown chemical forms. Next thing you know, there's going to be a periodic table of ways to relieve horniness. "Oh, good God," I can hear you saying to yourself as you creep away from the overwhelming list of terrifying sexual stimulants.

BUT WAIT! Don't go!

I promise they won't bite you... unless of course you happen to buy that one.

HOW TO BUY YOUR FIRST SEX TOY — without attempting to gouge out your own eyeballs from shock, horror, or sheer overwhelming fright, for women likely of the conservative genre, but also for anyone else who wants to buy a sex toy, or possibly just enjoys a bit of sarcasm in their how-tos.

Step one — Determine that you are bloody well sick and tired of whatever you're presently using for stimulation. Kitchen sink? Done that. Bathtub? Old. Spin cycle? You caught your mother's parrot doing it. Hairbrush? Toothbrush? Face scrubber? You just don't get off on looking at bristly objects attacking your pussy while you're trying to indulge in the common carnal practices known as masturbation. You need something sexier.

So go on. Throw out that DIY toy. Put it over there, off to the side, and come closer. This was the easy part.

Step two — make sure you're financially set to buy pleasure devices. Sure, you can buy a ten dollar vibrator, but you can also buy a several hundred dollar gold plated clitoral stimulator. On one hand, quality isn't cheap. On the other hand, that's just showing off. What are you going to do, go around and brag about your new Mercedes-buzz-for-her-pleasure? If you're reading this, probably not. So go ahead, check the bank, and see how much money you have to fling around in the general direction of your crotch.

A cheap bullet stimulator can be purchased for mere dollars. Whatever your price range, there's something that will fit your needs... and in your pants. A reasonable quality toy can probably be had for under fifty dollars, and you can certainly find something workable for under a hundred. Don't throw all of your money at one really expensive toy until you know what you like.

Set aside your dollars, count up your soon-to-be-illegal-pennies and move on to step three.

Step three — find out what you want.

I can hear you saying "oh god" to yourself right now, and that's not the good moaning in pleasure and inhuman ecstasy sort of moan I hear. That, my dear, is the moan of someone who has no bloody clue what to buy. There's so many choices! So many colors! So many weird wobbly appendages that are probably supposed to simultaneously insert themselves into your anus, clitoris, tongue, and nipples all at the same time and not all of those are even intended to have something inserted but due to a lack of knowledge of the female anatomy that's what the site says anyway!

But ignore all of the psycho toys for now. Maybe later you'll discover you have a fetish for male sex toys that look like they're growing fur on the outside, or that you really, really, really just need that strange vibrating coil with the spikes and the lock on the end in order to get off, but chances are, you'll probably be just fine with a normal toy for now.

Don't panic, don't assume that just because they actually make those you really, really need one, and get to know what's available.

Most toys for women serve one purpose: to stimulate the clitoris, which is the only part of the female body intended solely for delivering sexual pleasure. As it happens to be such a significantly wonderful addition to the female anatomy, it is your duty (and therefore that of creators of pleasure devices) to make sure it gets used as often as possible. Others stimulate the g-spot. But they have one thing in common: they vibrate. Goodbye, stress; helloooooooooo screamy, moany, thrashy orgasmic bliss!

Some sex toys don't have any fancy functions but are merely insertable for those who find a sadistic pleasure in things that look like disembodied cocks, or more likely, simply enjoy the feeling of penetration and don't have anyone around to do the penetrating. Dildos are either fashioned in the likeness of a penis, or are designed to look as non-penislike as possible. There is a vast array of available dildos in many shapes and sizes. Some are meant to stimulate the g-spot, and others are meant to fulfill every function of a penis except for the inevitable emotional attachment. When I say vast array, I mean extremely vast. Big heads, balls on the end, swirls, curves, knobs, bumpy ridges, massive, tiny, ejaculating, inflatable...

If you're looking to purchase a dildo rather than a vibrator it's best to look at what you currently use for self-pleasure. Bigger isn't always better. Pull out a tape measure and take some measurements! The materials are also important. Glass may look amazing but might be too hard. Silicone is one of the best materials but is often expensive, and you cannot use a silicone based lubricant with it. Cyberskin tears easily. "Jelly" is dubious and made out of unknown chemical concoctions, though it's cheap. Weigh the different options. In the end, I feel it's best to spend a bit more money for a dildo that will last a long while and is safe to insert into your body, but if you don't have the money to shell out for a silicone dildo, slip a condom on beforehand and keep the inside of your body safe!

If you will be using an insertable toy with partners, make sure that the toy can either be safely sanitized, or use a condom. Don't forget the lube!

But don't be bought in by the notion that you need penetration to feel pleasure. Most women derive most of their pleasure from clitoral abuse, and that's nothing to be ashamed of—it's perfectly normal! A rabbit will fill both the need for penetration as well as provide clitoral stimulation, but for many women, a simple bullet or egg vibrator will do the job nicely.

Examine the options. What do you want in a toy? Does it have to be whisper quiet? Rechargeable? Use only AA batteries? Waterproof? Aquamarine? Usable with a partner? Read reviews on toy review blogs to find out if the toy you're thinking of will meet your needs and do your research. Post in the Literotica forum and ask for thoughts. (Someone will tell you to buy the Hitachi Magic Wand, and not to use jelly.) A little bit of research will pay off in finding the toy that is perfect for you—I assure you exactly what you want is out there somewhere, because this is the internet. Someone's already found out that it's their fetish.

And remember: this is something personal to you. It doesn't matter what someone else thinks. Ultimately, if you find yourself absolutely lusting after a toy, go with your heart. It's going to be used on your girly bits, after all, not that random forum poster's, not that review blogger's, and not mine.

Step four — so you've found the toy of your wet dreams.

Great! Now you have to go out and purchase said toy. Count up your nickels and dimes and hop down to the nearest adult shop.

Oh, wait, you can't do that? You don't have a nearby adult store, or you're too embarrassed, or one of a hundred other reasons why you can't just stop in at a shop that happens to sell enormous disembodied cocks for your pleasure? Well, that's okay. We're here on the internet for a good reason! Put your pennies in the bank and make an account with Paypal, or get a credit card, or some other method of transferring money across the interwebs and make way for the online stores.

These are pretty safe. No one's going to see you here, and you can easily shop around to find the best price for what you want. If you live in the States, with a bit of shopping you'll probably be able to get a good deal. Many stores offer free shipping for purchases over a certain cost, and have email newsletter deals to save even more money. If you don't want your toy now, a bit of time may pay off and save you a good amount of money!

Check out reviews for the stores. If you're feeling really distrustful, Amazon sells a wide variety of adult accessories. But most adult online shops will ship discreetly for no higher cost... just check their FAQs or shoot them an email to ask how the package will be shipped, and what will appear on your credit card statement if discretion is an issue. Adult sellers are generally quite sympathetic in regards to the need for privacy and go out of their way to make sure no one knows that innocent brown box contains a collection of techno-colored vibrating things.

If you live out of the States, shopping around online might be a bit more difficult. Often shipping internationally is insanely pricy, and it can be difficult to find websites that ship from your country. Most sites will ship internationally, though, and it's just a matter of finding one that will.

Toss your toy in the card, check out, and wait until it ships. Presto! Pleasure in a box, in the mail, just for you! You've bought your first sex toy, and you didn't even have to take that humiliating step of going into a porn store. Now if you can just convince that postman that this is a porno and not real life...