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Alice

By: Sweetshelly50



I stood at the window and watched Alice walk up the path to my front door.

Her coat was open and I could see her tight black sweater moving back and forth across her sweet young tits. Hardening the nipples as she walked. Her long legs striding firmly in and out of a tight skirt which rode high and showed a delicious hint of her sweet cunt lips covered by the thinnest silk.

I opened the door for her and took her coat.

"Come on in sweetie," I murmured as I hung her coat and lead her into the lounge.

"Sit down on the sofa sweetie and I will get you a drink."

She sat, her long legs crossed, her skirt riding up to reveal her tight bikini panties.

"Thank you Shelly," she smiled

I went to the cabinet and poured two glasses of red wine. Sat down on the sofa beside her and handed her one as I raised my own glass to my lips and took a sip.

"So how have you been my sweet bitch," I asked as my hand slid over to her knee, caressing gently and moving slowly up.

"Very good, but I have missed you Shelly," she sighed as she leaned back into the cushions and uncrossed her legs for me.

"I have missed you my horny young bitch," I breathed and moved my hand till it was caressing her soft inner thigh, the back rubbing slowly against her silk covered cunt.

"Ohhhhhh that’s what I have missed Shelly," she whispered as she opened her legs wide for me. 

" I know you have baby, and mommy will look after you and you know that mommy will hurt you real bad baby"

She groaned as I turned my hand so I could feel her hot swollen cunt lips through the damp silk.

Calling myself "mommy" and by doing so also reminding Alice that she should call me "mommy" has always turned me on. She is not my daughter but just the sound of the word brings images of hot incest to my brain. Images of my daughter lay between my legs, her sweet tongue caressing my wet swollen cunt lips and flicking my hot hard clit from side to side till I orgasm. 

Reluctantly I pushed her away.

I leaned over and kissed her slowly and deeply. My tongue sliding between her teeth and caressing hers. I smiled inwardly as I felt her shudder in anticipation.

I got up from the sofa. And walked slowly into the bedroom.

"Come with mommy my horny slut. Come and let mommy work you over like you deserve you."

Perhaps dear reader I should tell you who I am, Who Alice is, and what we are like.

I am Shelly. I am 50 years old, divorced, two adult children , a male 26 and a female 24 and for the last two years I have been fucking them both. I am tall and slim with black hair, small cute tits which are firm for my age with long pink nipples. Alice is my niece. She is 23, blonde, slim but with nice large tits and really huge brown nipples. Alice like most women of her age and standing shaves her cunt regularly and is very smooth, on the other hand I don’t believe in shaving so I have a thick soft mat of black hair spreading over my mound, round my cunt and round my hot tight asshole.

Well Alice followed me into the bedroom and I motioned for her to sit on the bed. I stood in the middle of the room. My hands went to my blouse and I opened the buttons one at a time starting from the top and working down and then shrugged it off. My blood red bra holding my firm tits in place as Alice watched, her breathing quickening, and her eyes glued to my hard nipples pushing sensually through the flimsy material. I smiled at her and unhooked my skirt and let it fall. Sucked her breathe in loudly.

"Oh mommy," she groaned and started to rise from the bed.

"No," I said quietly but firmly, "you stay there sweetie."

My hands reached behind my back and my sweet tits burst free as I pulled the unhooked bra off. Letting my hands come back round to the front I cupped a hot firm tit in each hand, my index finger and thumb squeezing and pulling on the long pink nipples.

"Would my baby like to suckle on mommy," I murmured moving close to her and offering a hot tit to her mouth. She leaned forward and sucked the nipple slowly into her mouth.

God it felt so good, her tongue kneading the soft underside of my tit as the nipple was pulled into her throat. I could feel the sweet wetness spreading between my legs as she started a rhythmical sucking. Resisting the temptation to touch myself but smiling as her hand went down between her own legs and worked up and down between her silk covered hot wet cunt lips.

"Oh yes," she gurgled as she sucked. "My god," she groaned as she sucked on her mommy and started to finger fuck herself through the silk of her panties. My hand was round her head and I stroked the nape of her neck, encouraging her to suck harder. As she pulled hard on my tit I could feel the contractions deep in my own wet cunt. She was going to make me cum and I was going to let her.

"Suck on mommy baby. Suckle hard sweetie. Flick and roll that bitch clit my sweet whore" I was groaning. I could smell the bitch. She was close. I could hear her breathing quickening. Feel her sucking getting erratic. She was about to explode and so was I.

"Oh god," she wailed as her legs came up and my nipple was sucked deep into her. "Oh my fucking god," she cried as she burst, her fingers slamming deep into herself ripping the silk, her legs jackknifing in and out, her tits rising and falling as her hard contractions came. I could see the panties turning dark with her sweet cunt juice, smell her sex, as she squirted and peed a little. 

The heat deep in my own cunt slammed hard up into my brain and exploded sending hot hard jabs of pleasure down to my hot hard clit. My girlie cock throbbing and pulsing as my cunt muscles jerked over and over.

"Yes baby, yes," I stuttered as the waves of heat spread through me.

"Yes my sweetie bitch, yes," as I held her head against me, cunt juice dripping form my throbbing slit. 

I moved away from her and stood again in the middle of the room. Pushed my drenched panties down and off and moved over to an arm chair. I sat and pushed each of my legs up and over the chair arms. Spread wide for my sweet bitch Alice.

"Now come stand by me you hot horny cunt and undress for me"

She got up from the bed. Stood in front of me and pulled her sweater up over her head and unsnapped her bra letting her hot young tits jump free. Her brown nipples swollen and hard. She pushed her skirt and panties off in one motion. 

"There mommy, your bitch is ready for anything now "

My hand slide down to my wet slit, pulling the lips open and moving slowly up till I found the hood of my clit. Pushing it back as far as it would go, my sweet girlie cock hard and ready, blood red and throbbing. I pride my self on the fact that my clit slides at least 3/4" out from under her hood when I am this horny.

"Come bitch, kneel between mommy's legs and suck on mommy's love bud"

She knelt, sweeping her hair from her face, and clamped her lips round my clit. Sucking my baby into her mouth as her tongue flicked and swirled round the tip. Each flick of her hard tongue sending a jab of pleasure up to my womb and back to my tight ass muscles. God it felt so good, but I had different plans for her.

I let her suck and flick for a little while and enjoyed all the sensations as my hot juice dribbled down her chin.

Then. Suddenly. I grabbed her hair and yanked her head away from me.

"Ouch," she practically screamed 

"Fuck that hurt, she groaned.

"Not as much as you are going to hurt bitch," I hissed

Raising my hand I slapped her hard across her full tits. Catching the engorged nipples with my fingers tips.

"Whore," I hissed, "mommy will have to punish you."

With that I stood up and pulled her by her hair to her feet. She screamed in pain and I smiled. It felt so good. I just love to hear the bitches scream.

I dragged her by her hair round to the back of the arm chair and pushed her hard against it. Forcing her arms over the top and pulling her a little away from it so that I could get my hands on her belly. I stood beside her as she lay over the back of the chair sobbing quietly.

I kissed her shoulder and pushed one hand hard between her legs. With the other I parted her buttocks and used a finger to slowly circle her hot tight puckered asshole. 

"Now mommy is going to show you what pain really is bitch"

I pushed three fingers deep into her cunt and forced three into her tight asshole. She screamed with pain as I forced into her shit pipe and groaned with pleasure as my figures played ring around the roses in her hot wet cunt.

"You like mommy to ream your hot asshole don’t you bitch"

"You love mommy to play inside your hot wet cunt don’t you whore"

All she could do was groan as she started to hump, her legs bending and straightening, alternately pulling my fingers deeper into her asshole and deeper into her bitch cunt. I opened my legs and pushed my own wet slit hard against her hip. Pushing up and down. Masturbating my clit on her firm flesh as my fingers worked on her hot holes.

I flexed my fingers in her asshole stretching her. Making room for the rest of my fingers. Slamming them in deep and hard.

"Oh fucking god that hurts," she screamed

"Oh fucking bitch it will hurt more," I hissed as I rammed my whole hand up her asshole. Feeling her buck away from me and imbed herself deeper on my fingers in her hot cunt.

Masturbating my clit on her hip. Panting and sweating. Feeling the hot sweet pleasure as my girlie cock slid back and forth. Feeling her jabs of pain as my hand pounded her asshole. Hearing her sweet groans and her wet sobs as I slammed my whole hand into her cunt.

Masturbating my clit.

Grabbing the mouth of her womb and pulling and twisting 

Masturbating my girlie cock as I churned her asshole 

God it felt so good. Hearing her scream. Feeling her pain. My baby sliding over her slick skin.

Feeling the heat. Feeling my muscles shiver high in my cunt. Feeling the fire. Feeling her slime on my hands. Smelling her hot wet cunt. Smelling her sweetie tight asshole. Feeling my fire building.

Jerking and humping 

Yes

Yes 

She was about to cum. I could feel her muscles contracting, feel her swelling and hardening, hear her gulping and gasping for breathe.

"Oh fucking God," she screamed, "here I go"

I felt her contractions as my own exploded. Feel her muscles clutching and releasing my pounding fingers in her cunt as flashes of ecstasy seared through my body. Squirting and pissing on her hip. Pulsing and throbbing. Humping like crazy.

"Oh god yes," she whined.

I curled my fingers deep in her asshole. My long sharp nails digging into her inner flesh. My cunt dripping and throbbing. Waves of orgasm crashing and spreading through my body. Over and over and over again. My nails digging in her flesh.

"Now bitch, feel this, and enjoy the bitter pain"

I slowly, so slowly pulled my fingers down her anal canal.

Feeling the soft flesh rip.

God it felt good as another wave of contractions bust through me and she screamed out in pain.

God it felt wonderful as I felt the flesh ripping, blood and shit oozing form her as orgasm after orgasm exploded through my body.

"Oh yes," I groaned as my hand slid, bloody and slimy, from her hot asshole and she collapsed to the floor sobbing loudly.

When she composed her self and had a quick shower she came back and sat on the bed beside me. She took me in her arms and kissed me hard. Then pulling away and smiling.

"That was wonderful mommy"

"Next time can you hurt me even more, please"

I smiled back, took her hand, looked deep into her eyes.

"Of course bitch. Mommy will hurt you over and over again. Mommy will make you cum and scream and cry and beg mommy to do it harder. Beg mommy to really hurt you. This my sweet whore is just the beginning."

She lay back on the bed, smiling and contented.

Alice



'It's not fancy, but it's nice', he assures himself not for the first time, as he looks nervously at the entrance. The bunch of daisies beside him beginning to look not as proud as they had half an hour ago when he arrived, wet palmed and heart racing. He's had time to cool a bit, and his shirt has had time to relax it's carefully pressed fabric, the anticipation, and self-doubt are beginning to find their own time in the back of his thoughts. 'What if she's not what she said? What if she sucks? What if she doesn't think I'm what I said? What if I suck?'  

He runs their conversations through his mind, bits and pieces of verbal nostalgia playing in his ear, letters, phone calls, all that shared and private laughter. The smile that plays on his lips is as unconscious as the blush at his neck, both the result of their more, sordid conversations. She's everything he's looking for, and no strings. And as that thought comes to him, again his gaze drifts to the entrance.

His heart soars as the world slides into slow motion; the doorway is filled with the same girl from all the pictures, those deep brown eyes, tan legs flashing beneath the wine colored halter dress. He steps to her, stammering, "H- Hi..." and his voice betrays him with a crack and a squeak, because he can't help but imagine those legs opening close enough to his face for him to feel her heat on his cheeks, back arching as the deep red silk slips up her thighs and drapes across her sex like a theater curtain.  

Her smile reads his thoughts, with a playful toss of her hair and a swish of her skirt, she takes his hand, leaning forward she places a kiss at his neck just below his ear and whispers." I know what you're thinking, and yes. But let's get a table first." 

Before he really knows its happening she leads his hand through the slit in her dress, pressing his fingertips into the soft fabric of her panties, warm, not damp, and then it's gone, and the hostess is asking them to follow her to their table. His sad little daisies lay forgotten on the waiting bench.

Dinner, for him, feels like a dream, his mind spinning through the courses laced with her electric touch, brushing his leg, his shoulder. Each new plate seeming to spur on her advances, appetizer to entrée, hot fingertips tracing his hardening cock through his pants, or leading his to that secret paradise between her thighs. Entree to dessert has her voice in his ear, spilling dirty thoughts into it, while images of cream melting across her tongue fill his thoughts. All the while filled with deep eye contact, and her silvery laughter, their conversation falling from them like a moment lost in time.

In the cab, on the way to her flat, she allows him to taste her. Laying supine across the back seat and holding him with those beautiful legs he hears for the first time without a speaker, her sounds. He tongues her swollen clit and toys with the jewelry she has there, three pair of labia rings, interlocked, bar his fingers, but create and intriguing texture against his lips, the taste of the surgical steel mixing with the sweet salt of her bites his taste buds with a coppery sting. She uses her panties from behind his head like a net, pulling at the waistband to lock him to her; and grinds her sex into him, mashing his teeth against her clit as he tries desperately to pull his lips together around it. And between her puffing breath and moans he hears her giving the cabbie directions, and describing what the rearview mirror can't show. 

He's in a world he never thought he'd really know, surrounded by the sounds and textures and scent of her, his cock throbs with need, and he questions, for a moment, the jewelry. She'd never mentioned them, and he was certain from the phone calls that they weren't always there. It's a fleeting thought, though, because he needs this too badly to question any of it. 'It's been so long since I've had a real girl...' he thinks and, his fingers clinch at her hips in desperate gratitude, '...no more silly bitches, Tommy. Only class A kinky thinkers from now on boy!' and that thought sends him reeling, hips grinding against the bench seat in a frantic display of his desire. 

He tries to pull his shoulders in, wanting to slid up, needing to feel her thighs on his, to give his restless prick something to shove, the idea of at least rubbing against that web of metal making him hungrier, but she rolls her pelvis to match his movements, keeping his face where she wanted it, keeping the control she'd promised she could provide. He whimpers and submits, frustrated, and sucks angrily at her clit forcing her orgasm. He feels the cab swerve and knows what the driver is feeling, he's been there. He remembers driving, one hand on the wheel, the other on his cock, and her in his ear lost deep in some dirty fantasy, 'How sweet', he thinks, 'to finally control those sounds, to feel her flesh, to taste her'.

Sweet release finds him in the elevator, twelve flights never felt so long with her lips hugging his cock in a full mouth embrace. Her tongue rolls against his flesh in hot waves, lip and tongue piercings drawing smooth pressure points, proving her abilities in rhythmic taps as she pulls. His climax comes in perfect time with the belly dropping sensation of the lift settling. 

~x~

My new plaything is lost in it's own mind when I shove the decoy aside and start to really play. All night I've been letting her share, she's had to do a lot of work to get us this one. While it's dizzy and weak minded, I lead it to the door, it thinks it'll get sex, so it follows. 

The blind little sheep, stupid little cock driven animal! It doesn't even notice she's gone, that the swing in my step isn't the same as hers. It doesn't notice that I almost choke on my bile as it shoves that weirdly squirming tongue against mine, but it seems to like the taste of itself in my mouth. It thinks the disgust on my face and the strength I show when I shove him to the couch is a game she promised to play. 

She told it there would be ropes, but she was wrong, she doesn't know about the drug. She doesn't even know about the job that opened the door to it. The toy barely notices the needle when I pair it with a well placed bite, and its racing heart and ragged breathing hasten the effect. Curare is a powerful drug. Its eyes widen as it realizes it can't move, blinking rapidly.

"This stuff," I say, waving the syringe so it can see, "works quickly. Without respiratory aid the diaphragm paralyses within several minutes, good for us I don't need nearly that long to see what you're made of."

I raise its arms, working quickly, but carefully rubbing the warm, dead, palm against my nipples, my other hand expertly releasing the jewelry she didn't know she was wearing, I take his greedy flesh into myself rocking and working myself against a cock I know will die happily inside my orgasm.

"I know you feel everything," I say, letting laughter play in my voice, taunting it, " you told her you wanted to be helpless, vulnerable to a powerful creature to use for pleasure. She told you to be careful what you wished for. You should have listened."

The pupils are drawn to pin-pricks now, it's close, the buzzing starts, the gift begins. From below the cushions I draw my blade, making sure it sees, squeezing my muscles around it mimicking the way she used her tongue in the same place, using it now to press against the sacred mound within me, the chain mail web grinding against it's testicles, a few rings swinging with my movements. 

The eerie silence when there should be screams as I bring the skin from its ribs away from its torso and use the crimson wine to paint my breasts, my belly; its cheeks, spur me to come stronger than I've ever known. The gift presents itself in perfect time; I watch its eyes and know that the last moment between this world and that was split equally with the crest of my orgasm, a perfect way to start the game. 

My toy is now complete, and still oh, so warm and sticky. I lose myself to my playtime, spending hours taking things apart, and learning things, tasting, touching, using it. I splash around in its insides a bit before I prepare it. Experience has shown me that a popsicle stick works just beautifully to keep the penis useful. The hands I remove and place in the lockbox in the bedroom. I take the rest to my temple, to use later, when time has had a chance to change it a little for me.

Chapter 2 -- Looking Through the Glass

~x~ 22 years earlier ~x~

"I worry about Layla," We hear the Mommy saying into the phone, "she plays so strangely sometimes!" 

She wants to listen, I feel our heart grow warm and still at the sound of her name from the Mommy's lips. I know Layla wants to go to her, press her face into the Mommy's lap and try to calm her. I try to remind her that the Mommy isn't like us. Just to prove a point I tug our hair a little, Layla cries out when a bunch of it comes off in her hand, I laugh, "Did that hurt?" I tell her, "Funny! I didn't feel a thing!"

The Mommy and Layla catch each other's stare and I stop, it's not good to confuse her, I don't know why, but somehow I know you can't let them catch on. You can't let them know we're different. I have to be a secret. 

"Ssshh!" I whisper, "I'm not really here..." and I can't help but giggle while I take us to our room. I know the Mommy is watching me go. She almost always does when I forget, when I come out in the living room. I have to be more careful. I need the Mommy.

"Al-ice!" Layla whines at me as soon as we have the door closed, "You're gonna get us in trouble again!" Her voice is so much sweeter than mine; I think that's how the Mommy can tell, because Layla can sing. The Mommy always looks at us funny when I try to sing with them. I start to sing now, while we pull the boards from the closet wall, 'Golden Afternoon' from the movie where we got my name. We saw it at the Grandma's house last year. I almost never come out at the Grandma's house, the old lady smells funny. I let Layla go there alone; I play by myself in our mind. 

I like to watch the movies, though. Layla snuggles up next to the Grandma. Usually we fidget and fight, and the Grandma gets upset, but this movie was special. Something about that little girl and her daydreams caught me. We sat still as stone and the Grandma was so happy she gave Layla a cookie. After, in the backyard we found a family of opossums and played Queen of Hearts; I told Layla she had to call me Alice after that, it just felt right, and I never had a name before. That's how we know Layla's the real one, I'm just something else.

The air is hot in our lungs and Layla wants to rub the sweat out of our eyes, but I like the sting. Its not easy crawling between the walls, but it's the only place where I can be with my things. I don't think the Mommy knows about the little room, I think it sits between the hall bathroom and the den, there's pipes. Layla always tries to stop at the entrance, she doesn't like it here. 

I like it here. It's dark, and hot, and I don't have to worry about them seeing me, I can take over for a while, in here it's my turn. Layla doesn't know how to go away, but I don't let her steer, she has to just sit there and watch. The pipes make a lot of noise, so I can even talk and play with my treasures and not have to worry about being heard. 

"Boxes of boxes of boxes," I say to myself with a smile, the sound of my real voice as refreshing as the feel of the Daddy's old cigar box in my hands. A whiff of that deep, sticky, oily scent, puffs from the box when I open the lid. Looking at my treasure makes me smile, I think back to the woods, playing with the opossum family, how upset the Grandma got when she found us, fresh blood on our cheeks; the taste of it on our lips. It was a hard moment for Layla, for sure, but she got through it. The next time we were there, the Grandma kept a stronger eye on us, but I got a little time and I was able to find where she put them and bring a piece back to my secret place. I pet the small patch of fur with one finger, and dream about the treasures I will find, and create, in time.

Chapter 3- Chasing Rabbits

Seth is pulling at my blouse again; it's become some kind of nightly ritual. Hot breath in my ear, and his tongue tracing the ridges, his other hand is at the back of my neck, and I'm getting all kinds of dizzy. That weird, electric glow growing between us and it's like we're feeding on each other or something, my hands are everywhere, his chest, his shoulders, his face, his hips, grasping and clawing, and sliding across his skin. 

When his fingertips meet my nipples there is a great crashing wave through my body, my eyes are locked on the moon, lost in it, afraid of it, and wanting it. Knowing, just like I know that the bright question mark of stars above me is called 'Cassiopeia', that what Seth and I are doing will end me. As his lips find the skin between my breasts, that wave crests again, and I know Alice is watching.

She leaves me alone, mostly, on date nights, but I know the moon trumps all our best laid plans. I don't blame her, that Cheshire-cat grin in the sky is all she really feels. She's waiting her turn now, being patient, playing nice. She's not fooling anyone; we both know she can rule me, just like we both know how much she needs me. And Seth mistakes the smile on my lips, he gnashes his teeth against my nipple, and misreads the air between my teeth and pulls away with a mumbled apology, I lose my orgasm to misinterpretation. 

A few moments later our bodies twisting, repositioning, we work our way around each other's skin like a pair of sex driven creatures. I'm on all fours, knees dirty, twigs and pebbles beneath them digging in, biting a little, hands bracing against the tree, breasts swinging free, Seth is behind me, his hands on my hips, bringing me to him, his cock, like steel, pressing into me, prying open the space between my legs. His need, so firm within me, feels like the whole world has entered me, like all of existence is being pounded into the center of me.

When it's over, Seth walks me, as usual, as far as the park. Our paths home separate halfway down the path, and I hear his boot heels making their rubbery clomp as they fall on the concrete. My own soft soled trainers making almost no mark on the quiet summer night.

My eyes travel to the sky, its white grin starting something. I take a deep breath, and on my exhale am no longer steering. Just like when we were a kid and learned to ride our bike no-handed, I lean back inside myself and let go, and just like back then, I feel a rush of air across my face and an invisible force take over. It always scares me, a little, trusting something I can't see or control, it also scares me how welcome that feeling really is.

~x~

I come in on Layla's exhale, as though the air moving in our lungs were some sort of toggle switch between her and me. I barely have time to revel in my freedom when I hear a voice behind me.

"Hey 'candy'", the voice calls from the shadows, somewhere under the wide fan of the willow I'm passing, "got something sweet for me?"

"Fuck off" I hiss to him, and feel Layla shiver inside me.

"Oh!" He calls, "Tough little bitch are you? We can play it like that, if you want." There is an amused tone in his voice, as though my retort has fed something in him. I turn, and lower my eyes onto him. I don't need to try to make him see how big a mistake he wants to make right now. As I had guessed, the pathetic animal shrinks within himself, and I pass unmolested into the night. I can feel his eyes traveling over our body as I leave him, and something inside me knows that this dog will have to be put down.

I have to keep Layla from steering for the next few weeks, to make the arrangements. I'm as close to excited as I've ever felt, for years now, my Cheshire-cat moon has been calling me, wanting this, and promising this will make life real for me. I want to share, at least part of this with her, but I know she'll have no taste for it, the moon doesn't have the same hold on her, she's real, I'm something else. 

It's been a long month, waiting, pretending to feel, kissing Seth for Layla so she won't lose him, and trying not to vomit while his greedy hands work my body. He's frustrated because Layla doesn't come beneath him while he uses her, I can't tell him why that is. He also doesn't understand why I won't let him walk her through the park anymore. I can't tell him that it's best the animal who lives there forgets he ever saw us.

When I'm ready for him, I find the dog in the same place I left him, under the willow tree in the moonlight, my smiling Lord, has returned to bless my actions tonight. He's dosing, a light snore escaping him on random breaths. Any fear, or second thoughts are cancelled as my eyes focus on his right hand, a pair of bikini-briefs adorned with little red cherry blossoms are clenched within it, the smooth wet reflection from the lamplight tells me he's used them recently, the coppery smell of semen fills my nostrils and feeds my desire to end it for him. To give this animal that sweetest of release. 

Working quickly, carefully, I bind him, my foot kicking an empty vodka bottle as I cross his left side, drunk and post coital, he's made this almost too easy for me. He only wakes when I have him completely trussed to the tree, and am shoving those panties deep into his throat. His eyes open, confused, and widen as he seems to recognize me.

Naked beneath my clear plastic rain coat, I know our body will distract him enough for me to keep control. I raise my blade above him and begin my work for the first time, and really feel our heart beating rapidly in our chest. I hear Layla screaming in my mind, and block her voice. She still hasn't learned to go away, she still has to sit and watch, but right now I'm so real, so alive that I almost wish she didn't have to share. I get a little excited in my work, and feel the creature's blood splashing this way and that leaving trails along the walls of my coat, the heavy plastic keeping me clean, but still allowing the heat to come through to me.

I know what an orgasm feels like, because Layla's are strong and she can't help but share them with me, I'd never felt my own until this moment, the salted wine spraying across my barely covered skin, the power of this gift feeding into all the other sensations. 

Just as the moon promised I am alive tonight, I am real, and now, I'm sure, I can never stop. 

 Chapter 4- In the Tolgey Wood

We're in Gym class when it happens. Standing in line, dressed in that strange bright yellow uniform, and listening to Mz. Feinlin give elaborate instructions on how to properly execute a jumping jack, because we're apparently all assholes who can't get it right. 

We've been a little crampy this morning, not enough to cause concern, but this is a sudden, deep searing, pain. It rips through our abdomen and causes me to double over, bringing visions to our mind of a giant, using his big meaty hands to squeeze our insides, sending me into a cold sweat, setting our whole world ablaze.

"Alice..." Her name spills from my lips as the tears spill from my eyes; a Pavlovian  response to the pain, Alice always takes the pain. But Alice isn't coming; I can hear her laughter as I move, still crouching, toward the locker room. Mz. Fienlin is at my side, her big man-hands on my shoulders, worry thickening her deep german accent. With some confusion I understand that she wants me to lie down in her office, something about a cot there, and a cool towel.  As I enter the locker room she's motioning to Silvie to go with me. Poor little Silvie Jacobs looks panic stricken; Mz. Feinlin doesn't know that Silvie's scared of me, Silvie doesn't know that it's Alice she's really scared of. She also doesn't know that she has no reason to fear Alice, Alice likes Silvie. There's something about that untidy brown hair and too big glasses Alice finds endearing.




Alice



"Um... Layla?" Silvie's voice is cracking; she looks lost in her clothes. They're rumpled, like they've been jammed in the bottom of a back pack, and are so baggy they look like they were bought for someone else, all Silvie's clothes look that way, it's why Lucy Sumner and the rest of the cheerleaders won't give the poor girl a second's peace, Silvie thinks I'm one of them because I'm a cheerleader, too. It's guilt by association, but who can blame her, really?

"Yeah?" Lips pursed and breathing heavy, little droplets of sweat flying from my mouth as I answer.

"Here." She presses a cool towel into my hand; I push my face into it, welcoming the cold cloth against my fevered forehead. I'm trying my hardest to call to Alice in my mind, begging her to come and take the pain. Silvie half helps, half rolls me onto the cot, I have enough time to force a deep breath and a slight smile of thanks before that sadistic giant wraps his hands around my abs and rips my insides to bits. 

Rolling back off of the cot and crawling, with shaking limbs, I barely make it to the bathroom and into the handicap stall before the blood lets loose across my thighs. With the site of it, comes that sweet release on my exhale, Alice has come, at last, to save me.

~x~

I let Layla take the first part of the pain because she needed it. I knew it was coming. My smiling Lord has made me stronger since that first beautiful night, a gift for pleasing its need. When I come to take the pain for Layla, I use this new gift, I send her completely away. I see her, in our mind crawling, between the walls in our old house, to that special place only we knew about; I make her hide there. The pain I let her feel makes her grateful to do it.

Layla's internal giant begins to push its poison from our body; deep cramps force my breathing into shallow gasps the pain is coming in waves now. I pull myself up, hugging the toilet, reaching in to bring some of the cold water in the bowl to my skin. There is a deep pulling from within me as the thing inside finally breaks loose and finds its way out of my body. There is a soft, wet splash on the tile as it comes to rest between my knees. 

Sweet Silvie is just outside the stall and hears the small thud made by the dead thing as it lands. I hear her gasp, telling me she's peaked under the door, she knows what was happening, just like I've known for weeks now that it would. 

I figured it out while I was in control, making plans to silence that cur in the park. The blood wasn't coming when it was supposed to, and the calendar confirmed. For weeks, every night, while Layla slept, I worked the pressure points at the insides of our hips, first fingers of both hands pressing deep, trying to choke our ovaries, to end the thing inside us. 

It lays there, now in its puddle of blood, that salty wine covering what would have been a face, if given time. A life that has never been is not the same as one that I have taken; this fleshy blob will not make a good gift for my grinning God, and therefore will not have a place with my other treasures. 

Coming back together, using the locker room showers to clean my body and free my mind, I decide on the next step. Dressing, and telling Silvie to get back into street clothes, I take her hand, without another word, and lead her off campus, a few blocks from the school to a park nearby. Unlike the park by our house there are no willow trees here, just a few medium sized apple trees, and one old and gnarled oak. 

This park stands near the center of town, and this tree has to have stood for nearly a hundred years. The roots are as thick as your arm and sticking up in places, crisscrossing on themselves, leaving you with the impression of knotted ropes. Up close to the trunk there is a place where the roots entangle; with a little imagination you can see the shape of a heart. Layla and I found it when we were little, and as far as we can tell, we're the only ones who know that if you lift carefully from the center point of the heart and slide the roots to the left, there is a hollow in the trunk beneath it. 

Silvie catches my eye as I reach for my bag, she's confused by my silence, and moves her mouth as though to speak, I hold a finger to her lips and pull the package free. I'd long been keeping my pot stash in my gym locker, to keep the Mommy's thieving hands off of it. Away from Silvie's curious eyes, I'd emptied the blue aluminum box into my bag and placed the fetus, wrapped carefully in bandages from Mz. Feinlin's first aide kit, inside. For close to three months this thing had tried to live inside me, the fleshy result of it's attempt is not longer than three inches and the weight of the bandages swaddling it are more than that of the thing itself. 

I hear Silvie gasp as I lean close and kiss the lid, before placing the box, carefully inside the tree. There is a new kind of pain in this action, something so much more real than any pain I've ever felt. As the tears spring from my eyes and make their salty tracks I realize the difference in this pain is that it comes from within. The wound that has caused it is not something one can dress, or suture, it is the pain of a human soul, and it is entirely new to me. 

Chapter 5- Sitting for Tea

We've been juggling a lot. It's more me driving than her now; Layla's kind of stopped trusting herself. I was able to get us rid of Seth, she still doesn't really know what happened, but I was able to convince her we're better off without him. 'Besides', I told her, 'it's senior year and all those pretty bitches and their pom-poms need you.' She hates it when I call them that, but she agrees with me, they need her now more than ever. I only care about the team because the training has proven useful to my smiling Lord.

Something happened to Lucy, she went missing from the mall. They made a really big deal out of it, it was all over the news 'What happened to Lucy Sumner?' her Daddy's big leaky blue eyes, looking desperately into the camera, begging, "Anyone who knows anything, please ..."

And there's us, it's Layla on the screen, but those are my words she's whispering, "She said she was going to meet someone, a college boy, she was real excited about it, bought a new dress and everything, I asked her not to go..."and then she turns our face, looking a little more determined now, a little more sure, "Lucy, please, if you're out there watching, please come home, at least call your folks?"

I even had her start a 'Finding Lucy' hotline, it worked like a charm. The cops did only a cursory line of questioning, and for weeks Layla had to endure all manner of people telling her it wasn't her fault Lucy disappeared. It made it easy to talk her into letting me have a few more turns. She knows it's me that has kept us safe, she can trust my decisions.

Silvie knows she doesn't have to be afraid of us, now. Layla and I talked it over; she knows we need a friend. Silvie's different, too, she's not different the same way we are, but she has her own special strangeness. She's got the market pinned on rage, it's almost creepy to watch her when she really lets go.

It was an even bigger deal when they found Lucy. Words like 'monster' and 'depraved' flew around like pigeons in Trafalgar Square. I'll agree, we got a little carried away, maybe had a little too much fun, it had to be a shock for them to find her like that, tied to that bicycle, with all those things Silvie left inside her, and all those pieces missing. Silvie serves her gods with a certain artistic grace; it was a celebration, a baptism, if you will. She laughed when we talked about it, "If they'd really known Lucy, they'd use words like 'fitting' and 'punishment'."

I know there was more than just Lucy in Silvie's rage that day, but for Silvie, Lucy was the poster child for high school tormentors. I put Silvie on the team. Of course, those dumb whores took some time to accept her, but with a little grooming Silvie's almost normal looking, and the one thing that makes Layla invincible is our gymnastics. No one can pull off the stunts we can, well with a little training, now Silvie's got a few tricks up her sleeves, too.

It's kind of nice to hear my name aloud, in a voice that isn't Layla's. Silvie understands about the moon, she sees the same smile I do, but it doesn't own her. Anger and pain are her masters. I'm growing quite fond of this particular human; she's the only one who hasn't made my skin crawl at her touch. The three of us talk for hours in the park, naked in Silvie's arms, under the fan of that old willow. This place is special to me, Silvie understands why, she can't wait for her own temple to be ready, she knows it may be a while before they get the place cleaned up and stop watching it, though.

And, still, something needs to be done about Layla. With Seth out of our picture, she's back to swinging our ass around and flirting with every boy she sees. Silvie and I going to Tainted Flesh on the weekend, she wants a tattoo to remind her of Lucy, I think it's silly, but I have an idea that will keep Layla chaste. I can't let her do something stupid again. It's been months since my grinning God has given me orders, and I know that in a few days, I'll be allowed to serve again. There's no way I'm gonna let her screw it up for me.

Chapter 6- Crossing the Chessboard

That horrible grin hangs foreboding in the sky tonight, as if mocking me and I feel that chill, that rush of need, and the pain that comes from its denial. I feel the restless thumping from the thing inside me, that part of me I must never again allow to escape. My shoes make a hollow sound that echoes off the alley walls, other than me, and the restless chronic coughing coming from inside the shelter, this night is perfectly still. The fog rolls in from everywhere, it's December in the city, and fingers of ice try to grab me with every step. I reach the spigot and begin to clean the filthy buckets and brushes, used so often to clear the vomit and human waste from the floors inside. The freezing water turns my fingers an angry red as I work; the pain twists my lips into smile. The payment for today has begun. Once I ran from even the slightest pain, gratefully letting Alice take the wheel, now I make myself feel it, because not giving in means a small victory. 

For years I thought that Alice was my better half. She was stronger than me, and quicker to know the answers, it took me a long time to realize that just because you have an answer quickly, doesn't mean it's the right one. I was weak, and needful, I thought that she knew how to make us strong; I didn't listen when everything else inside me was screaming that we needed to be good as well. I let her drive for so long, and watched as she tore at the walls of our little world until they came crumbling down. I watched her destroy a transient in the park, because he tried to make a victim of us, I watched her tear apart one teenaged girl to help another feel a little more real, and then turn, disloyal as a serpent, and betray her as well. She thought I couldn't see from inside that place, she thought I had no idea what she was up to, but I found a window, and sometimes I peeked. I'll never forget the look of panic and shame on my sweet Silvie's face when she realized that Alice wasn't human. I let her do these things because I thought I was not strong enough to stop her. These are my sins. 

I have sought forgiveness the traditional ways; I begged a meeting with a priest. Unable to be completely honest with him, but wanting desperately to find hope in his words, I learned that as far as his God is concerned, I'm a lost cause. I guess it's better anyway; you can't pay penance something you're sure is a lie. I've always kind of admired the type of people who can believe in things like Gods. It's like getting to believe in magic forever. Even Alice had something to believe, her 'Smiling Lord', often guided her to things and acts that normal people would have no part of, but at least she has something to blame, something she believes in that will exonerate her. 

I had to create my own means of salvation. First comes sacrifice, I must relieve myself of all pleasures; that means cold food, uncomfortable furniture, and I must never so much as make eye contact with a man. I must pay back the carnage she dealt with my hands, so I work at the shelters and at the high school, doing the most disgusting, most degrading, things I can find, and return my pay to these causes. Atonement means a lot of things. Tomorrow I'm scheduled for a visit with my darling Silvie; her doctors think it will be good for her; they gave her a pass. I think it's a sweet irony that we'll meet, nearly unsupervised, in a park. I must face her and accept all the things I'm sure she has to say. 

"Just a reminder, gentlemen, it's curfew in 15 minutes." I say in a clear voice, without looking up, as I slip past the walking dead and through the back door, their cloud of nicotine swirling in my wake.

My thoughts unbroken I begin to strip the beds, the musty air from too often soiled mattresses creating a foul wind across my cheeks. I breathe deep, payment comes in many forms. After Silvie comes confession. I must find a way be done with half truths and whole lies. I'm smarter than to go anywhere near a therapist. All those afternoons, bored with Dr. Ashton, trying to find something to say that sounded real and didn't lead to Alice, taught me therapists are either idiots, or not to be trusted. Alice had served her master twice before we met the good doctor and he never took his eyes off my tits long enough to see that we were lying.

There are guards around the palace; even as the commitment of speaking her most guarded truths sets its dark chill on my heart, I feel an absent twitch in my left hand, her hand. The movement is unnerving, it draws my suspicion that she will strengthen as she stews, but those horrible dreams filled with pain-ridden gore and moonlight celebration come less often now, something is working. That gives me hope that someday I will finally claim ownership of this body. Unbidden to the front of my mind come two images; the first is almost comforting in its familiarity, her face, not so different from mine with just subtle changes, she has green eyes and a more slender chin, high cheek bones and bright red hair, cut close to her head in the back and lengthening to points at her collar bones. She is a powerful beauty; one I am hoping very much to miss.

The second image cuts into my heart with the implication it brings, the thing I found in the nightstand drawer. So small I hoped it wasn't real; I couldn't even bring myself to touch it. The tiny white triangle not half the size of my pinky nail, the slender cone and point of the canine, a trophy from that opossum eighteen years ago in Grandma's woods. A trophy I thought I had destroyed; she must have ripped this tooth out of its skull before I cleaned house.

Chapter 7- The Jabberwalkie

Somehow the narrow hall from the stage to the dressing room collects all the air from the club. Everything from the stairs to the lobby, even the smell from the private showrooms gathers here. I leave the stage and move toward the hall, breaking the vortex of smoke, bravely spinning its silent witness to the desperate fantasies we sell, as I pass. Upstairs I pull my next outfit from my locker and make sure Layla's mousey brown hair is still hidden beneath my wig, while trying not to really see the mirror, sometimes you see too much when you look too hard, and sometimes someone else looks back.  

Layla thinks she'll win; Layla has always been a little blind. She gives every day to her little plan, she thinks she'll kill me, or fix me, or something. Six days a week it's high schools, shelters and old folks homes; servitude. Those hands the Mommy insisted were bred for holding tea cups and babies are getting rough and red from the scrubbing and scraping Layla fills her days with. I use strong lotion to fix the damage. Six days a week she pays. She pays for what she thinks are my sins and Silvie's, she pays for her compliance. She keeps herself elbow deep in shit, and cries herself to sleep every night from loneliness. And she'll keep paying, even though she knows there's no one manning the till, as long as she thinks its working. She hates us that much.

Finished changing, wearing the blue dress now and having traded the black leather knee boots for clear sling back stilettos, I make my way back downstairs and into the lobby, different dress, different shoes; same animals drooling in the dark on cheap vinyl benches and lounge chairs. I missed last month's moon, but tonight one of these dogs will bleed for me. Three nights a week I steal her sleep. Before she locked me in, I tried to tell her that it doesn't matter what we want from this life; my God has a plan of its own, and true deities can't be denied. She might have found a window, but I was given a key. My laughing Lord is proving its plan, paying back all those years with Layla's band of jumping whores in green. And with the green It brings me choices, oh so many choices, all those dirty dogs and filthy bitches that need to be put down. It wants them all, but I discriminate, sometimes less is more.

Phoenix is up next. She's a cute brunette with a tight ass and great moves, I hate this music, but I love this bit. She's playing schoolgirl to Britney Spears, and sporting that classic catholic uniform, knee socks, glasses, pig tails, lollypop, the works. Its camp, but the spoons love it. With her back against the mirror, and her hands on her knees, she lowers herself, its one fluid movement that finds her squatting, knees open hands crossed, and lifting her skirt just enough to let the cat tease the dogs. Then she rolls forward and begins crawling, shoulders so low her pigtails drag against the stage, that crisp white top opening to give the spoons a peek at her artwork. At the edge of the stage she tucks her head and pulls a somersault, landing legs open, straddling the shoulders of the dog sitting at the foot of the stage. Pulling his head into her navel lands her another five spot, and with a nod and a wink she's got him on the hook for a private show when she gets off stage. Anyone can use these moves, but Phoenix takes the time to use the music, to actually dance. Just for that she takes more tips off the stage than almost any other girl here. It's with a slight edge when she tells me that she makes less money when I work; I tell her she needs to use the pole. We're both only half serious, she's got moves to spare up there, but when it comes to the pole, I fly. 

After Phoenix is Candy; awkward as always with shoes as cheap as her name. Her song is short with heavy bass and lyrics that barely meet the rhythm, she moves like she's never heard the music she chose; no commitment to the character. She looks like a girl trying to be sexy instead of one that just is. She doesn't understand why she doesn't make the kind of money we do, and often begs Phoenix and me to teach her. Phoenix might help, but I settle the girl with a dismissive glance, the last thing I need is another Silvie. I was watching from the window that day, I heard her trashing me to Layla when she should have been thanking me for sending her there instead of making a gift of her. That twisted fuck almost ruined everything with her 'Legacy of Pain'; if I'd let her play her cards she would have gotten us both the hot needle. Layla couldn't see it, but when you're as close to your monster as I am, these things get easier to see. 

Silvie wanted everyone to see her pain. I thought at first she cut herself because she was lost and hurting, but she needed the badge. She said 'People won't learn, Shadow, until the scars they make on the inside cut so deep they show on the outside too.' After Lucy came the tattoos; smiley faces, each with some injury or defect, a scar, a bullet wound, one of them had a cancerous tumor bulging from its forehead. One smile for each of her 'lessons', she was eight deep by the time I had to stop her. The calling I've been given made it easy to understand most of Sadistic Silvie's punishments, but when she wanted to take those two little boys for fighting in the park I knew I had indulged her too long. I nearly threw up when I saw those twin smiles on her hip; she had them clawing at each other's eyes. Lucky for me, Silvie could barely maintain, when they came for her she broke quickly and began to rant so deeply they soon stopped paying attention to anything she said about me. It hurt to have to lose her, she was the only human that ever knew me, but I need to be free to serve my purpose, I have a higher calling.




Alice



There's a pair of spoons in the corner, desperate dogs these two. The one on the left straightens when we make eye contact; it's a done deal before I even reach the table and all I have to do is quote a price. Taking one grubby paw from each of them I lead them into a private room, using my hip I topple the first onto the bench seat and apply a little leverage to fling the second into the space beside him, I give Charlie the bouncer the nod and he draws the red velvet rope across the entry. I position them knee to knee, straddling the seat, and place myself on the smaller one's lap with my back to him. I'm going on memory, now, using the movements and expressions I remember this body making when Layla let the boys play with our body. The big dog is almost a cliché, broad shouldered and slightly intimidating, dark shaggy hair, thick stubble across cheeks that feel like sandpaper, and eyes as dark as midnight; his partner is slight, at least a head shorter with long bright hair and a neat little goatee. As the music begins to climb I raise my arms and grab the ceiling rail, I use this to control my weight against their laps, making my movements more fluid. I present my bosom to the greedy eyes before me and rest my shoulders against the other one's heaving chest. Using a combination of my memory and the music I slide my hips back and forth between them, the first and second beats of every measure belong to the darker one, the third and fourth to his companion. These dogs are well trained and although I can feel their appreciation clearly, they both keep their hands at their sides; I can tell the larger one is having a hard time being good, his big meaty paws clench and release in spasms and his breath begins to grow ragged against my nipples. The lesser one has better self control, and proves his nerve as I feel his lips against my ear; his hot breath delivers the question I've been waiting for, "So how's a guy get a little more friendly with hot little piece like you?"

"612 Foccia Point, midnight, and its double for two so make sure you bring at least a thousand." " Foccia? Like the bread?" "Just like the bread." "A thousand sounds steep-" "A thousand gets you both. Vanilla, you get me? You want more, you pay more. You want to pay less go find yourself a cheap whore and you'll get what you pay for." As I'm saying this I've turned to face him, I speak the words with my lips pressing against the creature's smooth white belly, I feel it tremble and know I own him now.

When I turn my face up to him the world spins slightly and suddenly I feel like I'm using a mask; another face, another us, I'm pulling her strings like she's some kind of sex puppet. I feel the heat growing in her thighs as I rub her ass against the silent partner's chest, there's something awake in her now; some deep need I can only vaguely feel. It's not the same as sharing with Layla, there's no person here, no other mind; there's just a doll. But somehow the energy feeding from her sex is guiding me, helping me know what strings to pull; giving reason for my movements and lessoning my need to rely on the memory of those hot, sticky fumblings with high school boys that I found need to excuse myself from at the time. The smile my face shows is truly mine for a moment, another gift; another tool to serve my Master's purpose.

Chapter 8- Gazing At Mome Raths

612 Foccia Point stands at the end of the street and on top of the hill, this city was built in its shadow in more respects than one. The fact that the smaller dog seemed confused means they must be tourists, that's good news for my Master, tourists are less likely to be missed quickly and a lot harder to track once they've gone. I checked with Marcie, those boys didn't run a credit card at the club, more good news. It's 11:00pm, expecting to see the bright splash of headlights I'm standing at the long wall of windows in a room that used to be one of The Weighs and Kneads test kitchens, watching the fog slip past cloaking the city's secrets in its cold embrace, and waiting. 

The windows shake slightly with the force of the speakers behind me and bring my focus from the fog outside to the images reflected from within. Layla destroyed most of my treasures from before, but I managed to save a few of the smaller bits and smuggle them here. My eyes find the twin shadow boxes, like bookends on the wall that frame gifts created for my grinning God. Staring closely at the box on the right, from here you can just barely make out the ear that used to belong to that old cur all those years ago, in the other sits Lucy Sumner's pinky finger resting forever still, now mounted in its bed of cotton. The center of this display is given to much larger, fresher gifts; a trio of prizes for my Master set out on a low ebony table. I close my eyes breathe deep and feel myself settle inside, lids flying open on my exhale I take a moment to revel in the memory of each offering.

To the extreme left lies a souvenir of freedom. Recalling my first post-enclosure offering plays a smile across my lips, it was cheap and pretty; something meant for my own amusement, the way a real girl takes an afternoon to spend her husband's money on a new dress and a manicure. Palms stitched together; frozen in an eternal, silent clap with wrist separated at an angle drawing a sharp capital 'V' that ends just before the absent elbow; rests a withered pair of forearms. I took them from an old bitch I found wandering in the fog one night, filling the air around her with random curse words and shaking her fist at the sky. Pretending I was her granddaughter, I used her dementia to bring her into one of the lesser buildings and fed her thick potato soup that, I must confess, was more than sufficient in its strychnine content. Playing "Shiny Happy People" I giggled wildly as I watched the miserable thing convulse on the cold concrete floor gagging on her own vomit, and fouling herself. It was the funniest damn thing I ever saw and the release I got from that celebration helped me to understand why humans laugh.

The empty face that hangs on the beautician's bust to the far right used to belong to a girl I found in the campus library. Too pretty for her own good, and blissfully unaware of it she let me lead her here in the name of a study session I let her come run gratefully across my tongue before she felt the heavy shackles slam closed around her fragile wrists. Her strength surprised me; not much more than a puppy and that baby bitch lasted a week against the wall while I came, nearly nightly, to use her body against her mind. I took so much delight in that bitter little toy that her face was the only thing that could be saved. Even her shoulders had tasted sweet, slow roasted with onion and thyme I sliced them thin and, for a midnight picnic, had them on sourdough with bitter apple cider and fresh vanilla ice cream.

My eyes and mind travel, lost in the yesterday of my most treasured prize to date, a set of nearly limbless torsos I saved from a breeding pair of wandering dogs that tried to befriend me in the subway. Watching the waves slam the beach at Carter's Cove with my Lord's blessing shining down on us from a cloudless sky; he made dinner over a fire while she babbled mindlessly about free trade and how hemp could save the world; I woke that night before the moon faded, and smothered the dirty clueless bitch while she slept. Then in the pre-dawn silence I brought him out of his sleep and into the arms of my Master panting and moaning his way to orgasm; his eyes flying open as he walks that razors edge With his hips bucking between my thighs I leaned forward, letting my nipples drag against his squirming torso, watched closely as his eyes drift into emptiness as I slipped my blade into the hollow place where his collarbones meet, and savored the sweet gurgle of his trachea's desperate search for air. I used their bodies to please myself, painting us all in his blood; before I relieved them of their heads and most of their arms, keeping their necks and a good portion of her hair as well as the tops of their thighs. Now they rest in a macabre sort of embrace; upright with bellies together, her breasts pressed tight to his chest; her sex open against his eternally greedy cock. I took special care when I attached the hinges to their backs and mounted the slender wire stands, I haven't permanently joined them to each other yet, because they're still fresh enough to use on the nights I need a little company.

"So this is what you've been up to." Layla's voice breaks into my reverie like a hammer through a sheet of glass. My eyes shift and refocus on the window and suddenly I'm starring at her reflection next to mine, as always she comes to me in that pure white nightie, her hair softly hugging her shoulders and looking for all the world like a child lost in her mother's body. 

Chapter 9- The Queens Ways

At first, I thought it was a dream, and then I looked around the room and wished it was a nightmare. The dark need of the, so appropriate, Moonlight Sonata bouncing off the red walls, the scarce but completely white furniture placed with such careful precision; it's dim, the only light given by twin standing lamps, meant to highlight that sick display of devastation; all these things confirm in an instant that restless fear I've had for weeks. Turning my eyes to the windows I see her, at once from where I'm standing behind her and face to face from the icy reflection; this impossible view showing my place in the moment. She was startled to hear my voice, but covered it well; that tells me this wasn't planned. Her surprise is good, she may be driving but she's not really in control. I steady my nerve and speak again, "Fox in the hen house I see."

In the kind of leather boots I've only seen in porn she stands at the window, our body covered in shiny black liquid latex to the neck, our long brown hair tamed and hidden beneath that a-line red wig, making us look like both a wet dream and a walking nightmare. Our crimsoned lips twist into a slightly sinister grin as she speaks, "So good of you to join us, Layla."

"Us?" I say as she spins on one four inch heel to face me, the world swirling into nonexistence as she does so, when she stops we're not real anymore. The room looks similar to the one I found her in, same blood red walls with their macabre decorations, but now sliding to the right, circling us slowly; the movement playing with my senses. We're sitting, now, opposite each other in a pair of her white linen seats, separated by the low round coffee table, where a nude girl spins and twists silently between us, her face constantly shifting from Alice's to mine, and more briefly to that of someone I don't recognize and so must assume is her own. 

"We have another now," She gestures to the dancing doll between us; "I haven't given her a name; she's just a doll, no mind of her own." The pride in Alice's voice is tenuous; I can tell there's something disturbing her about this new girl, but she shrugs as she speaks feigning nonchalance, "She's a decoy. I ignored too much of your sex, so now I need a dog-catcher. She suits her purpose." 

"So you're completely given over to madness." It's a statement, not a question, and Alice treats it as such, dismissing it before she really digests the words. I continue, "Alice, do you ever wonder why you do these things? When we were young we studied, remember? Have you forgotten all those nights in the library, trying to figure out what we were? I remember how upset you were when we realized they'd call us sick, that they would put us away just because you existed in me. Remember how you swore they'd not do that to us, how you vowed to give them no reason to think we were less than sane?"

"Those were the promises of a twelve year old, Layla, a confused girl who thought she was meant to be like you." He voice shakes slightly, tone of the last two words betray her, the emphasis showing her confusion, at once proving the distaste she has for me and the longing she has always felt toward what she calls 'being real'. 

"Sour grapes, then." I say, knowing what it will create in her.

"Aren't they though? Just as sour as that fox thought them to be. Don't you live every day feeling ashamed of yourself, of what you are? I understand all humans to feel this way. I used to, too, but this is better. I may be the shadow Silvie always called me, but now it doesn't have to hurt. I don't hide, I stalk; keeping low showing myself when the time is right, that's strength, and when I drive, my existence has purpose. I don't have to try to act the way people would expect you to, just so they don't know I'm here. When I come out now, they know who I am, what I am; they see me, my strength and they bask in that reality." As her confidence rises the girl between us begins to echo Alice's aggravation with her movements; twirling fiercely, her arms flailing expressing in gestures the conflict in Alice's mind. I try not to focus on her, or those weirdly revolving walls; but my eyes keep sinking into the motion. "I'd much rather this, that to be some social meat puppet again."

"Meat puppet?" I say, struggling to keep my head against the tide. "Is that what you think of me?"

"Isn't that what you are? I see you out there, endlessly trying to pay, to make amends to society, apologizing for what you are, for what you've been."

"I'm paying for you. Trying to put right what you destroyed."

"Don't lie, Layla," She hisses, the dancing dolls face contorting to show her distaste, with ice on her voice to slice through my mind, "it doesn't become you. You're trying to end me; to trap me inside. I told you it wouldn't work, but there you are everyday, trying anyway."

"It's cause and effect, Alice, every action needs a consequence. We both know I've always paid the price for both of us. I'm tired of paying for you; I thought if I devoted myself I could teach you to be good, too."

"Your desperation is showing, L, you're reaching, trying to find an excuse for what you've done."

"No, A, I'm trying to explain."

"Enough," she says, "You're boring me." Rolling her eyes and blowing her bangs she dismisses my words with a wave of her hand, "There's a way, Layla, that we can both be whole." And there it is, the reason I was brought here, I knew there had to be one. We've never been face to face like this before, and I knew somehow, the powers that be had to have a motive. "I think my smiling Lord has proven that this cannot be stopped. I am an instrument meant to serve my God, you are meant to be a vehicle for that service. Come inside with me, Layla, join me. If you live this, you can have everything, you can have a life, the attention of men, and the freedom from your conscious you have always craved. We were meant for this, L, give yourself to it and stop fighting your truth. You don't have to make the gifts, you only have to bring them to me."

"What about her?" I say, gesturing to the girl before us, now stopped in her dance and crouched on the table and hugging her legs. Her still shifting face hidden behind her knees, and the table sliding ever left, against the walls that promise me sweet oblivion.

"She's a shell. All empty inside. I can use her to move for me at the club, but I can't hunt there much longer. I need a human to bring them to me. I need someone who can react like a person, someone who knows sex, and how to use words as well as movements."

"But how does that help me?" I ask, the truth dawning on me even as the words spill across my lips and I relax, just a little, feeling a rush of warmth like the last kiss of sleep on a cold winter morning. And somehow out of reality and into this place my ears again find the Beethoven, that lonely piano urging me to listen.

"You know as well as I do that you can't be anymore, not unless you want this hidden life of servitude and degradation for the rest of your days. Come inside with me, Layla, we'll give you a new way. We will rename you; you will be reborn in a fresh mind. Take with you the memories and the tools you'll need to do our work and leave the parts of you that conflict with this behind, here, in the mind you use now. When you give up those false morals and give in to what we are, you'll have no more shame. It is so incredibly freeing to do the Lords work, to be what it is you were meant for. We can stop the pain, we can stop the shame. Come inside, Layla; let the Lord make us whole." 

I feel the way Eve must have, staring at that shiny apple, all God's knowledge being offered with just a taste, and hearing the truth through it all in that rattle at the serpent's back. There is a difference between Eve and me; her serpent was working against Eve's God, the archangel in my ear works directly for hers. There is a truth in Alice's words, I can feel it like the wind in my lungs, if I go inside with her, if I leave this self outside and willingly become something new, then all the pain that is Layla Murphy has to end. Everyone wants, at times, this chance to be more, to change into someone that's ok with what they are. As much as it hurts me to lose, to admit defeat, I know the true victory is in finding a place for me.

I close my eyes, breathe deep, and let the tide take me. Washed through a deep hole inside me I stand and, with solemn tranquility, wander the aisles in a warehouse of my life; picking and pulling out the things I will need to do the Lord's work. I keep the things closest to me, my schooling, my laughter, my music, I take Seth's small platinum heart, but leave Silvie's blue steel box with its pretty silver bow in place, there's too much pain there for my new soul. I take a last look at the walls of my mind, now beginning to burn out all evidence of its own existence. One look, one breath, and I return to the place where Alice waits. I reach with one shaking hand to the girl between us, and pull her by the shoulder to me, I feel myself slipping in her embrace, sinking into her and becoming something new. 

~x~

There is a rush of air around me as I watch the embrace, my heart tearing with the swell of joy and sacrifice, driven by the rush of a Chopin concerto. Layla was born, she was real, but she didn't know what to do with it. She's gone now, and I'm real and I'll miss her. She was my sister, my twin, and she's gone inside forever now; changing into something more. Hot salty tears streak my cheeks as I reach to hold to my breast the woman-child before me, a moment of maternal instinct for her, and then I place her cheeks in my hands and watch her eyes to see the spark that tells me Layla made it in. I watch a simple, frightened, shudder escape her before her mind builds a new soul that shines with talent, experience, and eager subordination. 

"Clair." She whispers, with a sly smile and an air of salutation, and we kiss. She melts into me and it feels like the world spins on the tips of our tongues. When it ends, we're back to reality and I can see through her eyes and feel her mind beside mine, as we draw the curtain across the museum and change the music. In this state our body is like a second skin to me, I can feel her using it, but know the overall control is mine.

Our eyes fly to the clock, 11:45. My smiling Lord may not have thought to warn me of It's intentions for this evening, but you have to give a God credit for timing. A glance to the chair on the right, the last place Layla ever was, and I'm biting my lower lip as I move to regain my place at the window. Not long into the second track of Pretty Hate Machine, Clair and I see lights of a small truck climbing the hill, and the Moon takes it's rightful place in my thoughts. I settle into a lounge chair in my mind as Clair presses the buzzer to open the heavy steel gates that guard the factory grounds. She moves like a pro when she meets them at the lift and leads them, panting and tripping over their own cocks, down the hall to our door. I let her play first, so I can get a feel for the new talent, before I take over the game, and celebrate the complex pains and simple pleasures my Lord has shown me under the light of It's ever grinning gaze.



Alice



I'm a 45 year old divorced college professor. I'm tenured, and have been teaching for nearly forever. I teach history. It's a subject that most of my students take because they must. They consider it the lesser of evils. We once had a history major, but it got canceled when the president realized that we were only graduating two or three people each year. That's also when they got rid of the other full time history professor.

I actually enjoy my job. It's boring at times, but I can more or less do what I want. I don't have to spend a lot of energy preparing for class. History doesn't change very much and neither do the interpretations that we bring to the lower level courses. I try to stay well read and interested, but it's entirely for my own benefit. Mostly my days are quite routine and predictable.

My wife left me almost ten years ago. I foolishly had an affair with a woman I met at a conference. I deceived myself into believing we would live happily ever after. Alas, it turned out that she was married too. It was really rather pathetic.

When I'm not teaching or reading in the library, I enjoy concerts, gardening, photography, and hiking. I try to keep myself in good shape with regular work outs. I use the college's gym, much to the amusement of my students. They kid me about my gut or my legs but the truth is that I'm in better shape than many of them.

This particular semester started more or less like any other. I greeted the students in my usual, routine way, and handed out all the usual, routine paperwork. Everything unfolded exactly as it has before. I've taught my classes so many times that I could probably do it in my sleep.

It was about four weeks into the semester when I got an email message from one of my freshman American History students named Alice. "I could use a little help with the reading assignment," she wrote. "I have some questions about it." I often get email from students so there was nothing particularly odd about Alice's message. I wondered what kind of questions she had. I replied with an invitation to stop by my office later that afternoon.

Alice arrived right on schedule. She was dressed very smartly, but conservatively. She had on a light blouse with dark pants and a dark jacket. The color of her jacket contrasted strikingly with her long, blond hair. I indicated a chair, and as she sat down she took out her glasses and her notes.

Alice's work was steady, but not exceptional. She wasn't sure about some of the questions at the end of the reading, but she seemed to understand my explanations well enough. "I'm glad you came by," I said and she seemed pleased. "It's good to try and get these issues cleared up before class. It will make the discussion in class easier to follow and you'll get more out of it."

She smiled. "I just wanted to come by and see your office anyway. I figured you'd have a very nice office."

I laughed. "Well," I said with a wave of my arm. "What do you think?"

"I like your pictures," she said getting up to take a closer look at them. "Did you take them?"

"Yes, I did," I replied, feeling a bit of pride coming into my voice.

We ended up spending a good fifteen minutes talking about photography. It turned out that she had done a little modeling and that she knew something about the technical side of that business too.

"You'd make a lovely model," I told her. She smiled warmly.

The next day, I received an email message from Alice thanking me for helping her and for spending time showing her my pictures. I replied saying that no thanks were necessary and that she should feel free to stop by my office any time.

A couple of days later, while I was in the gym working out, I saw Alice running on one of the treadmills. She waved when she saw me and I returned her gesture before heading over to the weight machines. I was a little surprised to see her there since I had never seen her working out before. Yet people are always coming and going in the gym. There was nothing particularly unusual about that.

As I worked out, I found myself stealing glances her way. She was extremely sexy in her skin tight leotard. She had a thin, lithe body with pert, teenage breasts. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail to expose well toned shoulders and arms. She had the treadmill up fairly high and was moving along at a rather good clip. I could see the sweat glistening on her brow. I could also see her erect nipples clearly outlined against the fabric of her leotard. I hadn't realized what a great body she had, and I found myself wondering what she looked like without that leotard.

Later in class, I lectured on the political situation in the American colonies. I tried to relate the historic events to the current activities around the world. The discussion was fairly lively and I felt pleased. I also felt distracted by Alice in the back row. She didn't say anything but for some reason the image of her tight leotard stretched over her hard nipples kept coming to my mind. That night, at home in my bed, I masturbated to that image.

The next day I found a message from Alice waiting for me in my electronic mailbox. "I noticed you watching me in the gym yesterday," was all it said.

"Damn," I thought. I composed a careful reply. I didn't want to deny what was obviously true, but I also didn't want to get myself into trouble. I knew of faculty members who routinely preyed on their students for sexual favors, and that practice disgusted me. Besides, tenure or no, sexual harassment was taken very seriously by the college administration.

"You are a very striking woman," I wrote after much deliberation, "and I'd be lying if I told you that I didn't notice you. However, I don't want you to think that I was trying to act inappropriately. I'm sorry if you felt uncomfortable, and I hope you will not feel uncomfortable with me in the future."

Around noon that day, I got a reply from her that said, "I wasn't uncomfortable at all. Actually, I liked it. I noticed you too. You're a sexy man."

Was she coming on to me there? After a a minute of reflection, I dragged her message to the trash can and forgot about it. But that night I thought again about her firm breasts bouncing suggestively as she jogged on the treadmill machine.

The next day Alice wasn't in class. That struck me as a bit unusual. Hadn't she always been there before? I couldn't remember. I wondered what she might have been doing. Late that afternoon I got an email message from her. "I'm sorry I wasn't in class," she said. "I don't like missing your classes, but something came up. Can I stop by your office and find out what I missed?" I felt my hands shaking slightly as I composed my reply. "Calm down," I told myself.

When she came to my office I gave her the reading assignment and a copy of my notes. I was very professional. "Thanks," she said as she packed the material into her notebook. Then, just as she was about to leave she added, "I want you to know, by the way, that I wasn't uncomfortable the other day in the gym."

"I'm glad," I muttered with a nod.

She looked at me for a long moment. "I like it when guys look at my body."

"You have a nice body," I said without thinking.

She smiled. "Maybe I'll see you in the gym again sometime!"

"Maybe." I said.

The next day I could hardly think straight. Part of me hoped that I would see her again in the gym. Part of me was just plain scared shitless by the idea. By the time I actually went for my workout, I felt as nervous as a teenager on his first date.

When I didn't see her right away, I felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. Then I saw her. She was on one of the bench press machines on the other side of the room. She was wearing a different leotard; a black leotard that contrasted in an intensely sexy way with her blond hair and fair skin. My palms broke into a sweat but I tried to be casual and pretend that I didn't really see her.

After she had done her sets on the bench press machine, she noticed me and waved. I smiled briefly in return, but my heart was pounding. Why was this woman having such a strong effect on me?

As I worked out I watched Alice now and then out of the corner of my eye. Her leotard seemed to hug her sleek body like a second skin. I could see every contour of her breasts, buttocks, and hips clearly outlined. Once Alice caught me looking at her. She winked and I smiled before I discretely turned my attention back to my work. Then I noticed that Alice seemed to be going out of her way to position herself in my view. Sometimes she worked on the machine next to mine and sometimes she worked on the machine across the room. In every case I could see her just by looking up in a very natural and inconspicuous way.

While I was working on the bicep machine, Alice decided to work on the bench press machine. She lay down on the bench and spread her legs slightly so that she could put her feet on the floor. From my vantage point, I got a clear view of her legs and crotch. I fancied that I could even see the slit between her legs outlined by her tight leotard. I decided to do an extra set on the bicep machine and when I got up I caught another wink from Alice.

The next morning I found an email message in my mailbox from her.

"Did you like looking at me?" she asked. "Are you going to come and look at me again?"

"You were teasing me," I typed my reply. "And you are an exhibitionist! But yes, I will probably come and look at you again. Especially since you seem to enjoy it so much. I just need to be discrete."

A couple of hours later, I got a reply.

"I am an exhibitionist. Being looked at gets me hot. Don't worry, it will just be our little game. I don't want to ruin it by getting you in trouble."

Shit. I wasn't sure where this was heading, but I was very sure that I shouldn't be playing this game with one of my students. Yet it was intensely exciting to think about Alice getting hot.

Later in the afternoon I got another message from her. "Did you like my black leotard?" she said. "I picked it out hoping that you were going to be there. I have a couple of other ones that I can wear. You'll have to tell me which is your favorite."

The next time I went to the gym, Alice was already there and seemed very much engrossed in her workout. I began my workout in the usual, routine way and didn't pay too much attention to her at first. She didn't bother to greet me, which felt appropriate and comfortable. Yet as before she seemed to position herself to make it easier for me to watch her without it being obvious that I was doing so.

She was wearing a light blue leotard that seemed to be much higher on her hips than the black one. The fabric was slightly sparkly and that made her body seem to shimmer as she moved. I loved watching her breasts jostle beneath the fabric.

"So what did you think?" she asked in email the next day.

"Nice," I replied, "but then I think you would look nice in almost anything. You are very attractive. I admit that I still like the black one better. Did it get you hot knowing that I was watching you?" I asked.

She replied in only about thirty minutes. "Yes I did get hot. Just knowing that you were there looking at me made me wet. I'm glad you think I'm attractive. I think you are attractive too."

Class that day was uneventful. Alice was there, as usual, in the back. She was dressed in her usual, routine way. The discussion was lively and I managed to stay focused on my teaching very well. But that night I masturbated while thinking about Alice getting wet.

The next time at the gym she had on a green leotard that seemed to be in the same style as the black one. It was a dark, forest green and it looked very nice. I could easily see her erect nipples through the fabric. The thought that I was arousing her by looking at her turned me on as well. I had trouble focusing on my workout.

"I liked the green leotard better than the blue one I think," I wrote to her, "but I still like the black one the best." I paused and then typed, "I liked the green leotard because I could see your nipples through it."

I didn't get a reply from her for quite some time. I started to worry. I didn't want to ruin our game by making her feel like so much meat in a meat market. Yet she had said she was an exhibitionist. After a few hours I started to worry that she was in the dean's office lodging a complaint about me. Finally, at the very end of the day I got a message from her. I anxiously opened it.

"I have something special planned for tomorrow," was all she said.

The next day I had trouble focusing on my classes. It seemed to me that the time for my workout would never come. Finally, I headed over to the gym at my usual time. I got changed and almost rushed up to the room with the machines. Luckily hardly anyone was there. Yet Alice was there. She saw me and we made brief eye contact, but she didn't seem to acknowledge me. She was wearing dark blue riding shorts and a cut-off tank top that exposed her muscular midriff from her navel up to the bottom part of her rib cage. Her top was really just a cloth draped over her breasts; it was completely open from below.

When she moved toward one of the machines, her breasts jostled making it clear that she wasn't wearing a bra. When she got onto the pec machine, her top stretched back over her breasts and her very erect nipples poked through the thin fabric with astonishing clarity. I could even see her aureoles outlined against her top and I could follow every contour of her upturned, slightly pointed tits.

I could hardly keep my eyes off of her, and I wasn't alone. I think every man in the room followed Alice as she moved from machine to machine. When she raised her arms to work the overhead bar, we all wondered if her top would ride up to expose her breasts entirely. When she lay down on the bench press we all wondered if we could catch the curve of her breasts peeking out from under the bottom of her top. When she jogged on the treadmill, we all watched her breasts shake and sway freely. She often closed her eyes for extended periods of time, and I knew she was doing that just to make it easier for the rest of us to stare.

"You were very sexy today," I wrote to her before leaving that afternoon. "You have beautiful breasts and I loved watching them move under your clothes."

In the morning when I arrived at work, there was a message from her. "I'm glad you liked my show," she replied. "I wanted to display myself to you, but all those other people were there so I couldn't. I still want to show myself to you. How can I do that?"

I gulped. This game was starting to get intense and I wasn't sure how to handle it. I took a deep breath and wrote a simple, one line response. "Come to my office this afternoon at 5:00pm and we'll discuss it."

It was difficult to concentrate on history. Then, when she didn't reply, I worried again that I had overstepped my bounds. Alice was in class in her usual, routine way, and I managed to get through class without embarrassing myself. I looked at her a few times as I lectured, but I couldn't read her expression.

Finally the appointed time arrived. I seriously considered leaving at 5:00 like I usually do, but I waited. One minute, two minutes, three minutes passed and nobody came to my office door. The hallway was quiet and deserted.

Then suddenly I heard a soft knock at the door, but the pounding of my heart seemed to almost drown it out. "Come in." I said. It was, of course, Alice. "Hello!" I said trying to muster as casual a tone as I could. I had no idea what to expect, but I knew that I had to treat this meeting as normally as I could.

Alice did not reply. She quickly sat down on the chair opposite my desk. She looked at me. I looked at her. Our eyes meet and there was a tense silence. Then, she swiftly began unbuttoning her blouse. I swallowed and watched, hardly daring to move.

She undid first one button, then another, then a third. With each button her blouse hung progressively more and more loosely on her shoulders. She closed her eyes, and then with a sudden, forceful gesture, she tore open her blouse exposing her delightful breasts to my eyes. There was nearly absolute silence in the room. Only the sound of her ragged breathing distracted me from the view.

Her young breasts were small yet surprising full. Her nipples were bright pink and stood out fully erect. I was amazed at the size of her nipples; they were as large as pencil erasers and contrasted greatly with the daintiness of her breasts.

She arched her back to thrust her breasts toward me, but she kept her eyes closed. I wanted so much to reach out and touch her or lick her, but I didn't move. How much time passed like that I couldn't tell. It seemed timeless. Finally---it might have been only a few seconds or maybe a few minutes---she closed her shirt and started buttoning it up again. She looked at me, holding my gaze, and making deep eye contact.

"Thank you," she said softly. I nodded. And with that she left as suddenly as she had come. The stillness of the late afternoon enfolded me.

The next day I had a message from Alice waiting for me in my mailbox. "Did you like that as much as I did?" she asked. I considered my response carefully. "You have an exquisite body, Alice, and I love looking at you as much as you seem to love showing off. I'm glad you want to show me your body. Will you show me more?"

I didn't get any more messages from her that day. Instead I had to attend several faculty committee meetings of one sort of another. They were boring, of course. By the time I packed up my things to go home, I had almost forgotten about my dialog with Alice.

However, the next day, I had a message waiting from her that got my attention. "What part would you like to see next?" she asked. It was a challenge, and I didn't want to let her down. Yet I was still worried about going too far. This game was getting very intense and I didn't want to make a mistake now. I paced around in my office for a few minutes before composing my reply. Then finally I sat down at my computer. "Show me your pussy," I wrote back.

I got my reply by noon. "Do you want to see my pussy because you want to see how wet I become when you look at me and how hard my clit gets?"

This was getting good. "You know I do," I wrote back. "Show me your wet pussy, Alice, and your hard clit. I want to see. Come to my office this afternoon at 5:00 and show me."

It was a challenge to teach that afternoon with Alice in the back of the room. Her expression was bland, but whenever I looked at her, I found myself thinking---even if for just a fleeting instant---of her wet pussy. It was too much. Shortly after class, I got a message from Alice. I opened it with trembling hands. "I'll be there." was all it said.

I worked out that afternoon to distract myself and to pass the time. I knew that I really needed to be grading some papers, but that wasn't going to be possible. I could hardly wait for the end of the day to come. As before, Alice was a bit late. But this time I knew she would come. "Yes?" I called out innocently when I heard her knock at my door. She came in wearing a nice blouse and a short skirt.

"Hello." I said, but as before she was silent. Immediately she sat down in the other chair. She looked at me, making eye contact. I looked at her. There was no sound except our breathing.

"Show me." I said softly.

Suddenly she lifted up her legs slightly and spread open her knees. Then she pulled up her skirt to display herself to me. She wasn't wearing any underwear, and my eyes were greeted with a beautiful view of her exposed genitals. As I looked, she spread her knees even higher and wider to open herself to my gaze.

A forest of light, blond hair sprouted in a thick triangle on her mound and spread down over her labia in a generous tangle. Her inner lips were unusually large and looked like the wild petals of a rare flower in full bloom---complete with an inviting fragrance. They glistened with her excitement, and it was obvious she was aroused.




Alice



At the top of her pussy, where the petals of her flower touched, I could plainly see her clitoris protruding anxiously from under its hood. It was a big, beautiful clitoris: hard, erect, and full of the promise of wild pleasure. I wanted to kiss it and lick it, but as before I didn't dare to move. Instead my eyes were drawn to her opening. I looked deeply inside of her, penetrating her with my gaze, until my sight got lost in the mysterious blackness within her. And out of that blackness poured an intense sexual heat; an animal energy that seemed to flow out of her pussy and fill the room.

Again the moment was timeless. I watched her. She watched me watching her. Her face was flushed and her breathing was heavy. Her pupils were widely dilated. Her cunt glistened.

"Very nice," I said with a hoarse whisper.

She swallowed hard. I thought she was going to get up, but she didn't move. God only knows how long I stared at her... stared at her wet, open cunt, her engorged pussy lips, and her big clit. She had one of the most beautiful pussies I had ever seen.

Then, suddenly, she straighted up and pushed her skirt back down. I sat back a bit. I hadn't even realized that I had been leaning forward. We made eye contact, but we didn't say a word. She stood up and quickly left.

For a moment, I simply sat. Then I knelled down on the floor with my face near where her beautiful pussy had been. I inhaled deeply, smelling her, savoring her, and wishing that she was still there so that I could lick her. My cock was rock hard in my pants.

I hurried home to jerk off.

The next morning I had a series of faculty committee meetings to attend. The whole time I wondered if Alice had written to me and, if so, what she had said. When my meetings were finally over, I hurried to my office. I smiled when I saw a message from Alice in my mailbox. My cock started to harden even as I opened it. "Did you like what you saw?" she began. "I liked showing myself to you. My pussy was so hot afterward that I had to go back to my room and get myself off. Do you see what you do to me?"

I wrote my reply right away. "I loved the way you showed yourself to me," I said. "You have a wonderful pussy and a lovely clit. I'm glad you were excited by my watching you. Did you have a good orgasm in your room afterward? Tell me all about it."

It excited me to hear her talk dirty in email. I could hardly believe that this was the same woman who sat so quietly in the back of my history class every other day.

It wasn't until after lunch that I heard from her again. I closed my office door to read her letter. I didn't want anyone coming in while there were certain words on my computer's screen!

"I had an wonderful orgasm in my room last night," she began. I was so glad my roommate wasn't there. I think she must have gone to dinner. I was so excited, that I didn't even bother to take my clothes off. I just sat on the edge of my bed, hiked up my skirt the way I had for you, and did myself right then and there. I thought about you watching me. I wanted your eyes on me, staring, like you were before. As I stroked my clit, I imagined that you were there, right between my thighs, looking closely at my cunt."

"I came in a rush," she continued. "I was so excited that it only took me a minute or two to climax. It felt so good that it made me moan. I wish you could have seen it. Would you like to watch me cum?"

I was totally excited. My cock was straining in my pants and I knew I had to reply right away. She had me in her spell. "Yes," I wrote back. "I would love to see you cum. There is nothing more beautiful than a woman having an orgasm. I would love to watch you experiencing that pleasure. I would kneel down on the floor between your legs, just like you want, and watch you stroke your lovely clit and pussy. Spread your legs wide for me, Alice. I want to see. I want to see every twitch and shudder that your cunt makes when you cum!"

I hesitated for a moment before pressing "Send." I wasn't worried anymore about her reacting badly to my message, but I was amazed that it had come to this. I hoped she found my words even half as arousing as I found hers.

Much to my surprise, my lecture went fine. I was worried that I wouldn't be able to talk straight much less think straight, but it wasn't so. Alice was there, dressed in her routine, conservative clothes looking like her usual self. We made eye contact briefly at one point and I fancied that she winked a little, but perhaps I imagined that.

After my class with Alice, I had another one to teach. When I got back from that, there was a message waiting for me.

"5:00pm again. Your office. Tomorrow."

The next day seemed to go quickly. I tried not to think about Alice; each time I did, my cock started to get hard in my pants. Would she really go through with it? I knew that she would. She was enjoying this as much as I was. Yet I wondered where it would all lead.

The appointed time came. Alice was late -- later than usual. I almost thought she wasn't going to come at all. Yet at 5:13 I heard a soft knock on my office door.

"Come in," I said.

Alice opened the door. She was wearing a turtle neck sweater and jeans. I felt disappointed. She wasn't going to do it. She had come to tell me that we had gone far enough.

As soon as the door closed, she turned toward me and smiled. "Watch me," she said softly. A silence filled the room as she moved her fingers down to her belt and began to unbuckle it. "Watch me touch myself." I swallowed hard and sat down in my chair. She stood before me, unzipping her pants. In moments she was pulling them down her legs and kicking them off her feet. She was not wearing any underwear and her blond curls formed a delightful tangle between her legs.

"Watch me touch myself until I cum," she whispered.

She sat down on the chair by my desk and spread her legs widely, opening herself up to me the way she had the other day. Then she lifted up her feet and put them on the seat of the chair, spreading herself open even more. I stared at her totally exposed pussy, already moist with her excitement. She thrust her hips forward at me, rocking them, inviting me to look at her completely. I could hardly believe how lewd she looked! I could see her labia spread open like a wildflower in bloom. I could see her clit protruding clearly out from under its hood, firm and proud. I wondered briefly if her genitals always looked like that. Was this woman horny all the time?

"Watch me," she said in a soft but commanding voice. "Watch me touch myself until I cum."

She started to run her fingers over her labia, massaging them. Then with one finger she began to rub her clit from side to side. She used a slow, slightly jerky motion. I watched with fascination as her little erection flicked from one side of her finger to the other. She closed her eyes for a moment to savor the sensations. She seemed so wanton---not bashful or timid at all. She stroked herself steadily. Her breathing was ragged and her pussy was wet.

"Penetrate yourself with your finger," I said. "I want to see."

She did as I asked, dipping a slender finger into her warm depths. I could see her pressing against her G-spot and she gasped softly as she did. When it came out, her finger was coated with her lubrication. Immediately she back to rub her clit with quick, steady strokes.

"Yes, that's it," I said softly. "Play with that pussy! Make her cum!"

"Come down between my legs," she replied breathlessly. "Like you said you would. I want you to be able to really see me."

Almost as if in a dream, I got out of my chair and moved down to a kneeling position right in front of her. I moved toward her slowly, but steadily until my face was only about a foot from her crotch. The sight of her open, excited pussy filled my view and the smell of her filled my nostrils.

"Oh yeah!" she gasped as she plunged a finger back inside of her body. "That's it! Watch me fuck myself! Oh God, yeah!" At first she used only one finger, but soon she joined it with another. In and out she moved them, her entire hand and lower arm joining in the motion. I glanced up to see her, wide-eyed, watching me watching her.

"I'm fucking myself," she panted. "Do you see? Do you see how I do that?"

"Yes," I said as I turned my attention back to the pornographic spectacle before me. "I see. I see you fucking your hot, soaking pussy with your fingers." Her cunt was wide open. It was a dark red color, and dripping with wetness. It was a gaping mouth trying to swallow her hand. She fucked herself vigorously, her hand moved back and forth rapidly as liquid sounds started coming from her excited pussy. Her clit had, if anything become larger and more pronounced than ever. It looked like a bead, almost, nestled in the folds of her skin.

Suddenly, she shifted to stroking that big clit with rapid movements. "Watch me!" she moaned. "Ohhh, please watch me!" She spread her legs even more and her pussy started to dribble wetness as she stroked herself. The scent of sex was strong.

"I'll watch you, Alice," I said. "I'll watch you play with that clit of yours until your pussy cums so hard you scream. Would you like that, Alice?

"Oh yes!" she gasped, "I would like that!" Her finger was just a blur and her inner lips where totally spread and open. Her genitals looked like an exotic flower in bloom, dripping with fresh rain.

"Then show me!" I said sternly.

"Do you want to see!" she hissed as her finger continued working her clit steadily.

"Yes!" I replied.

"Do you want to see my pussy cum!!" she cried out rather loudly in her excitement.

"Yes!!" I commanded.

"Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!!" she panted. 

Then, suddenly, my beautiful American History student threw back her head and orgasmed right there in my office right in front of my eyes. It was beautiful to behold. She pressed her hips upwards in a strong contraction, and a long, groaning yowl of raw animal pleasure poured out of her.

"I'm watching you," I said intently. "I'm watching you cum." She began to grunt and her pussy twitched in ecstasy. I could actually see her orgasmic contractions! She rolled her head from side to side, as if she was drowning in pleasure while liquid flowed steadily from her quivering cunt and onto the chair. "Good girl!" I said enthusiastically. "Cum long and hard for me! I want to see. I want to see you cumming hard!"

"Oh God, yes!" she moaned. "Watch me cum! Oh God, it feels so good!!"

Finally her orgasm started to settle down and she slowed her stroking. I watched her cunt the entire time marveling in the power and beauty of her climax. "That was very beautiful," I said when she had finished. I sat back onto the floor while she idly stroked her pubic hair.

"I liked it too," she said with a smile. "But now I've got to go." She stood up suddenly and quickly pulled her pants back on.

"Are... are you okay?" I asked?

She smiled. "Don't forget to check your mail later tonight!" she said. And then she was gone.

END



Alice: A Fantasy



He worshipped Alice. She was everything he had ever desired in a woman. Her high, prominent cheekbones, slightly prognathous mouth, strongly chiseled features, and her penetrating, pale blue-gray eyes left him absolutely breathless. Five feet ten inches tall, she weighed about 150 pounds. She had a phenomenal derriere with luscious, well-rounded buns and she possessed the loveliest thighs and calves he had ever seen. Her long legs were full and very shapely. He had always been an ass and leg man. Some might consider her legs a trifle too heavy, but he found them absolutely perfect. He hated skinny legs and especially underdeveloped calves - a major defect of far too many women these days. Her breasts were modest, but perfectly formed, and her luxuriant, light-brown hair cascaded halfway down her elegant back. She was forty years old - nearly thirteen years younger than he. Her even, pearl-colored teeth supported full, sensuous lips, which she frequently revealed in a stunning smile. Even at those times when she appeared almost homely - as all women do occasionally - she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. To him she was an absolute goddess and he worshipped the ground she walked on.

They both taught at a community college in southern Oregon - he in biology and she in English literature. They had become close friends over the course of the semester and had begun to spend a fair amount of time together. They had gone out to dinner on several occasions and attended a few concerts together, and had even engaged in some heavy petting. He was thrilled beyond words that she liked him and seemed to find him attractive. He fantasized about her constantly intensely sensual and erotic fantasies that he desperately longed to fulfill, but dared not share with her out of fear of her rejection of his kinky predilections.

One day he encountered her in the school cafeteria and, as was his wont, joined her. They sat down over coffee and doughnuts and made small talk for several minutes. Eventually the conversation turned to horses. Alice had a quarter horse, which she rode regularly.

His own mother had been one of the best equestriennes in the country. A psychologically constricted woman, she had never been able to provide him with the emotional support he craved and needed, especially after his father, whom he idolized, had fallen in the Korean Conflict when he was only seven. He had resented and envied his mother's horses. She had lavished a great deal of attention on them, grooming and currying them, stroking them, cleaning their stalls, and giving them sugar cubes and carrots. But most of all, she had ridden them. Ever since he was a small child, he had wanted girls - and later women - to sit astride him. It represented the love his remote and undemonstrative mother bestowed upon her horses, but could never give to him.

Alice spoke of the intense pleasure she got from riding.

"Exactly what is it you experience when you ride a horse?" he asked.

Somewhat flustered, she responded that horseback riding was a healthy outdoor activity that blended her and her mount into a unified whole. Dissatisfied with this superficial explanation, he pressed her further. There is a unique rhythm to riding, she said, that is quite unlike anything else she had experienced. It made her feel at one with nature.

"Alice, that s bullshit," he challenged her. "There's something else going on."

Being a very intelligent woman, she knew exactly what point he was making. After some additional prodding, she eventually acknowledged that much of the pleasure was highly sexual and that she really enjoyed dominating something powerful between her legs. She even admitted, with some embarrassment, that she preferred bareback riding because of the erotic sensation of her mount moving beneath her loins.

"Will I do?" he asked her.

"What?"

"Alice, would you ride me?" His face was crimson with embarrassment and he could not believe he was actually making such a request of her. She looked at him, speechless. "You want me to sit on you?" she asked finally.

"Oh God, yes," he replied. "Alice, I have worshipped you from the moment I first saw you. I would love to be ridden by you. It would give me such pleasure." He desperately hoped he had not completely alienated her.

She regarded him fixedly for a long time, her face completely expressionless. He began to wilt under her steady gaze, feeling like a loathsome insect that had just been uncovered beneath its rock. Then she half closed her eyes and ran her tongue sensuously between her parted lips. Her bosom heaved noticeably as she took a deep breath - and then another. Her eyes gleamed and he suddenly realized that she was actually quite aroused.

"Come to my house this evening after seven o'clock," she said seductively. "I'll ride you and a lot more."

Then she excused herself, noting that she had a class to prepare. She rose from her chair and placed her hand lightly on his forearm. Her electric touch left him almost breathless. She leaned over and kissed him on the top of his head. "It'll be a lot of fun," she whispered, brushing his ear delicately with her lips. Then she left.

He was thunderstruck. Yes! he exulted to himself. It looked as if his favorite fantasy was about to come true.

He rang the doorbell at her house precisely at seven. Presently she opened the door, barefooted and wearing a turquoise-blue bathrobe. God, she's magnificent, he marvelled to himself, sucking in his breath. She regarded him for a long time with her stunning eyes, seeming to see directly into his soul. Then she opened the door and invited him in. He entered, somewhat unsure of himself. It was her house and her turf. And as a woman, she held all the cards in any case. It may be a "man's world," as people are so fond of saying, he thought to himself, but women have always wielded the real power. She looked at him provocatively, her eyes dancing with mischief.

"Take off all your clothes - everything," she demanded. "Then come over here to me."

Slowly he stripped naked, making himself vulnerable to her. He carried a few extra pounds on his belly, but was otherwise in very good shape, and he appeared to be much younger than his fifty-two years. He went to her, enfolded her in his arms and tenderly kissed her forehead, her nose and her incredible eyes. Then he kissed her lightly on the mouth, gently pinching each of her lips between his own and running his tongue delicately over her smooth teeth. His manhood stirred into life and he kissed her passionately, inserting his tongue into her open mouth. His guts churned as she abruptly filled his mouth with her saliva.

"Do that again, please," he begged her.

She grabbed his face in both hands, placed her mouth firmly on his and again thrilled him by spitting directly into his mouth. She followed this with her tongue and the two of them drank deeply of each other for many minutes. Then he nuzzled her thick, luxuriant hair - how he loved her magnificent hair - and kissed her beautiful eyes and exquisite nose. Once again they mingled their lips and tongues and exchanged their saliva.

She opened her robe and he quickly leaned down and kissed her neck and throat. Moving down her now heaving bosom, he lovingly kissed her elegant breasts. He took each of her nipples in turn into his mouth and delicately licked them, relishing the slightly bumpy texture of her dark areolae on his tongue. Her nipples gradually became erect in his mouth and he was thrilled by the realization that he could still arouse a beautiful woman. Then he leaned to each side and inserted his tongue into first one, and then the other of her armpits. She accommodated him by raising her arms to grant him access, and he delightedly filled each enchanting crevice with his tongue.

"Oh, that s wonderful," she murmured, stroking his head tenderly with her free hand as he licked her lavishly under each arm. Her musky, slightly salty taste and her heady fragrance totally enchanted him. He tongued her armpits lovingly, savoring her moist warmth and the faint, prickly sensation of her delicate stubble against his mouth.

"You're starting to tickle me," she laughed, pulling away abruptly.

Then she removed her robe completely and stood before him a picture of stunning elegance and grace. She was wearing only sheer black silk panties. How beautiful she is, he marveled and he went down on his knees before her in utter adoration.

"What a goddess you are," he stammered. "How I worship you."

"Take them off with your teeth," she commanded, her voice husky with desire.

He grasped the top of her panties in his teeth and slowly drew them downward, exposing the lush bush adorning her exquisite mons. Her pubic hair was rather darker than the hair on her head and it tickled his face, nose and lips as he nuzzled and licked it and reverently anointed it with his saliva. He employed his hands to gradually ease her panties down over her phenomenal hips. He remained on his knees in front of her for a long interval with his face buried in her wonderful muff, gently caressing her incredible ass and the backs of her legs.

Then he rose to his feet, moved around behind her, and again knelt down. Gently he kissed and licked the small of her back, then took her panties directly amidships between his teeth and slowly pulled them down over her alabaster buttocks. His mouth and nose followed the deep furrow between her luscious globes and he delighted in the sensation of her cheeks against his own. She bent forwards slightly and thrust herself into his face, inviting him to go farther. His tongue sought, found and delicately probed her dainty, puckered anus, causing her to shiver violently and break out in goose bumps. The delicate tickling her of now slightly roughened skin and its minute, erect hairs on his face completely enchanted him. And she was both highly aroused and at the same time somewhat repelled by the insistent pressure of his tongue against her asshole. She had never before regarded her anus as an erotic object - yet it was she who had just impulsively urged him to kiss her there.

She stood there transfixed and trembling as waves of deep sensuality swept through her body. He pressed his tongue firmly against her budlike anus, running it slowly all over and around it, and his mind reeled at the heady musky scent she emitted from her anal glands. He adoringly caressed the entire length of the deep crease between her buttocks and the inner walls of her lovely globes with his mouth and tongue. He had always wanted to lick a woman's asshole, but had never before had the opportunity. And now here he was, engaged in precisely that with the most magnificent woman he had ever known. Alice kept herself scrupulously clean and he was very grateful for that. He dearly loved licking her there, but he was not into shit.

He moved his mouth sensuously all over her ass and down the backs of her legs. She had just the faintest hint of cellulite dimples, which endeared her to him all the more. Her slight imperfections only accentuated her regal beauty. He finally pulled her panties down to her ankles and she stepped gracefully out of them. Then he nuzzled her delicious thighs, the backs of her knees and her wonderful calves. God, how he loved her glorious calves. He arose at last, moved back around to face her and again knelt before her. He again planted his face between her, located the cleft of Venus and tentatively slipped his tongue inside through the dense tangle of hair guarding the entrance. In, and then out and then in again. How delicious she is, he thought. He moved his tongue delicately her secret chamber, probing her intimate recesses until she finally pushed him away.

"Wait just a moment, honey," she said, her voice sultry with her mounting desire. "I want to sit on you while you do that. That s what you want, isn t it?"

He nodded and she went into her bedroom. She emerged carrying a pillow, placed it on the floor beside him, and indicated for him to lie down.

He lay down on his back at her feet and adjusted the pillow under his head. She stood over him and placed her elegant foot on his chest while gazing directly down into his eyes. Then she moved it deliberately forward onto his throat and then up over his face. She caressed his face with the sole of her foot and he ardently licked it, filling her arch with his tongue. Next she inserted her big toe into his mouth. He sucked on it greedily, delighting in the sensation of the fleshy pad on his tongue and the hard toenail pressing against his palate. He sucked all of her toes in their turn, running his tongue carefully between each of them and along the groove separating them from the ball of her foot. He lay on his back looking up in pure adoration at his goddess, exulting in her domination over him.

Presently she removed her foot from his face and stood astride him briefly with her hands balanced provocatively on her hips. He caressed her sensational calves with his hands for several moments and then applied light, but steady pressure against them, urging her to sit down. Slowly and very deliberately she lowered herself upon him. Planting her pussy squarely over his mouth and her buttocks firmly on his upper chest, she mounted her man and cradled his head between her magnificent thighs. He groaned with pleasure under her weight as she settled down upon him.

"Alice," he croaked, "this is wonderful. I love it so and I love you."

"I know you do, lover," she cooed. "I m really happy to do this for you. And it s great fun for me, too. I love dominating you like this."

He began licking her soft, furry mount of Venus until it was thoroughly wet. Next he tongued her outer labia, mouthed the moist, hanging curtains of her inner lips, then and inserted first his nose and then his tongue into the deep tunnel they guarded. He loved her viscous, musky flavor and the delicate fragrance emanating from her wonderful sanctuary a heady blend of raw fish and freshly cut cucumber. Moistening her with his saliva, his tongue probed everywhere inside the exquisite citadel of her sexuality. Becoming bolder, he entered as far into her vagina as he could until his tongue ached from the strain. He withdrew it, then inserted it once again.

No longer able to bear the cramping in his tongue, he withdrew it and began to lick the small opening to her urethra. He searched for, and eventually found the elusive clitoris that lay tucked away beneath its soft, fleshy hood. Running his tongue in small, delicate circles, he licked his mistress s clit and the soft tissue enfolding it and soon felt it gradually become erect under his loving ministrations. When his tongue had sufficiently recovered, he reintroduced as deeply as he could into her vagina and began working it rhythmically in and out. She quickly rewarded him with a copious flow of thick vaginal secretions. Eagerly he drank in her delicious dew, gratefully absorbing her essence as deeply as he could. Back and forth slid his delighted tongue between her clit and vagina, with frequent side excursions throughout her chamber of love. He explored every nook and cranny - a slow and highly intense journey of discovery and desire. Her flow increased and his face and chest were soon soaked with her love juices.

Deliriously happy, he feasted on her for a long time. She sat there half mesmerized, gazing adoringly down at him as he worked while running her fingers lightly through his hair and gently stroking his brow. The she gripped his head tightly between her thighs and started rocking slowly back and forth upon him. As her excitement rose, the intensity of her rocking increased and her breathing became deeper and more rapid. Suddenly she rode him high, covering his face with her groin. He felt her buttocks resting lightly on his throat and immediately thrust his body upward to intensify that exquisite contact. As she hovered just above him, he licked her perineum from her pussy to her asshole, and pressed his face against her inner thighs. Then she again settled back down on his chest.

Her passion quickened and she began grinding her loins into his face while moaning softly in her throat. Then she grasped his hair in her hands and pulled his head forcefully into her crotch. He worked her clit feverishly now, eager to pleasure her. Her passion mounted quickly and she repeatedly thrust herself vigorously into his face. She bucked and up and down on him now, holding his head tightly in place with her hands and thighs literally fucking him in the face. Her weight nearly crushed him each time she rose and fell back on his body. Her eyes were glazed and a small cascade of spittle drooled from one corner of her mouth and ran down her chin. Then she climaxed violently as her love juices fluids out all over his face, throat and chest.

"Oh, God!" she cried out.

He was drenched in her vaginal juices. Her felt her body shudder as she climaxed in wave after wave as he continued to lick her fully engorged clit. He was thrilled that she came in his mouth like this. He loved being the source of such intense pleasure for the magnificent creature who rode him so expertly. If he were restricted to a single sexual act for the rest of his life, it would be to lie underneath this woman just like this and service her in any way she desired.

"That's enough, honey," she said finally, lifting herself slightly off his face. "It's getting a little too intense."

He withdrew his tongue, and she sat back down on him again. God, how he loved feeling her weight bearing down on his body. He lovingly kissed her crotch and inner thighs while she sat quietly, her enchanting eyes overflowing with gratitude and dare he even think it? perhaps even love for the adoring man beneath her.

"Let me go back inside you, Alice," he implored her. "I'll stay away from your clit. I just want to feel my tongue inside you again."

She nodded her assent, and he gently invaded her once again. Gently he caressed the front wall of her vagina with his tongue. Suddenly her body began to spasm. She shuddered violently and began to climax again - but differently this time, it seemed to him. He was suddenly startled - and thrilled - when she released a stream of strong urine onto his tongue. He held her exquisite gift in his mouth for a while, savoring its smoky, metallic, salty flavor. Then he let the wonderful elixir run slowly down his throat. It was an unexpected and delightful treat which added real tang and zest to his experience. He wondered if she knew what she had just done for him

They rested for a while. She was deeply touched by this man who worshipped her so unashamedly. It was the most intense sexual experience she had ever had, and she was still basking it its strong afterglow. She loved sitting astride him and dominating him like this, enjoying the power she had over him. She had been strongly attracted to him for some time now, both intellectually and romantically. Now she realized that she was very much in love with him. This was a man whose lusty and kinky sexuality matched her own needs and desires.

"Alice, I love you," he murmured.

"I know you do, honey," she replied, stroking his forehead. "I love you, too - very much."

"Do you know that you pissed in my mouth?"

"I thought I might have done that," she replied matter-of-factly. "Everything was so incredible and so intense I just let it all go. I hope you enjoyed it."

"Alice, It was wonderful! A real treat. I love the taste of your urine. I want you to do it again sometime when you have a really full bladder."

"My, aren't we the kinky one?" she chortled. "And how I love you for it. That was the best ride I have ever had in my entire life. No man has ever worshipped my body or me the way you did tonight, my love. You make me feel very sexy and powerful like a goddess."




Alice Accepts The Terms



I was lazing in bed that following morning having what seemed a very nice dream, I was stretched out naked like I'd gone to bed and my thoughts were of the previous night when I'd taken Alice and started her on the road to being a slut. I remembered the last thing I'd said to her and smiled at the thought of it and let myself become absorbed in the cock stiffening thought of Alice's wet mouth on my cock. 

I felt my dick twitch and stiffen and I smiled to myself as I envisaged her sucking me and it felt so real, so real in fact it felt like my cock was actually being sucked.

My eyes sprang open and I lifted my head, "Oh fuck you dirty little slut," I said as I looked at the short dark hair on the back of Alice's head as it bobbed up and down my dick. I reached down and grabbed as much of her hair as possible and pulled her head off my cock and turned her forcibly so she had to look at me. "You made a good choice you little slut, I'll take your greediness as a sign of acceptance shall I?" I said to her.

"Yes," she answered. 

"You're going to be sucking and fucking a lot of my cock Alice do you understand?" I asked her.

"Yes," she answered.

"Well carry on then slut," I told her pushing her back down towards my swollen dick, I kept my head raised until I felt her wet lips engulf my helmet and I watched her head lower as she took as much of my thick dick as possible. I then laid back and enjoyed the next ten minutes it took for me to erupt in her pretty little mouth.

"Well done," I praised her as she swallowed down nearly all of my come and cleaned the rest from my cock and balls just like I'd shown her last night; Alice seemed to be a fast leaner. "Now make me hard again using only your mouth and I suggest you get your pussy ready because as soon as I'm hard you're going to be bouncing on my dick do you understand me Alice?" 

"Yes," she said and immediately turned her attention back to my semi stiff cock and she sucked it into her mouth and almost instantly I began to stiffen, something eighteen year old mouths obviously do to you. She then shuffled her position and tugged her knickers off with one hand and reached under herself with her right hand and began to finger and fiddle her clit readying herself for some morning sex.

Alice's young mouth soon had me stiff and she'd only had about three or four minutes of time working her own cunt but that wasn't my concern, "Up on my cock slut, take your top and bra off I want to see your tits bouncing while you ride me," I told her.

She left my cock and stood by the bed and peeled off her loose t-shirt and freed her wonderful tits from the bra she'd put on, she looked fucking fantastic. She then climbed on me slinging her right leg over me and she lifted herself so she was over my cock, from the position she had adopted I knew I wouldn't be able to see me filling her tight little cunt as she would be leaning forwards a little.

"I said ride me slut, that means I want you up on your feet and bouncing on my cock with your legs open, I want to see me filling your tight little cunt, now get up and ride me properly," I told her.

"Yes, sorry," she said as she instantly repositioned herself and now she was in the position I liked with the view I craved. Her willingness and unprompted apology registered in me as it alerted to me her submissive side and keenness to please me.

She lowered herself until her cunt lips rested on the top of my helmet and she leant back in order to place her hands on my thighs thus thrusting her legs a bit wider and giving me a better view, but more importantly it opened her hole and she lowered herself and I smiled as I watched her cunt lips part exposing her gorgeous little clit.

I was mesmerised by how far her little hole was being stretched and I watched her cunt lips stretch over my helmet and I'd of watched it all day if her grimace and loud shout hadn't woke me.

"Urrrggghh ahhhhh, shhhhhiiiit," she shouted as she stopped and panted a moment catching her breath as the entrance and most sensitive point of her pussy got used to being so stuffed and stretched. "It's so big Ali, I can't," she panted.

"Yes you can and yes you will Alice, now I'm waiting," I said to her and after a moment's hesitation she braced herself by gripping my thighs even tighter as she began lowering herself further onto my cock. I loved laying back listening to her cries of pain through gritted teeth and closed eyes as she lowered her tight hole further down my cock.

Once my bulbous helmet was inside she opened her eyes and looked down at her spread cunt lips no longer hiding her young sensitive clit due to her being so full of my shaft, "Oh gooood," she grunted through her teeth as it dawned on her that she still had about four inches of my girth to fit inside of her.

"All of it slut, don't stop till that pussy is full to the brim," I said with a smile on my face.

Now the biggest bit of my cock was in the slightly smaller shaft filled her easier but no less intensely as her cunt lips were pushed up inside her almost as she lowered herself until she couldn't any further. "Shhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiittttttttttt!" she squealed at the top of her voice and again opened her eyes and stared in amazement at her obscenely full pussy.

"Now ride me, up and down up and down until I say stop," I said to her holding her gaze and smiling at the glazed over look in them, she looked like she could barely focus.

She hoisted herself up and as she did her pussy lips came back out like stuck firmly to the side of my veiny cock and I smiled to myself knowing she was absolutely crammed full. After about three or four minutes her pussy had created enough lubrication and although her lips were still lodged firmly round my cock she was beginning to glide up and down me with a little more speed and fluidity; which in turn was speeding up the process for her first orgasm.

That came after about six minutes when she closed her eyes and dropped herself down me and stopped and threw her knees together and began to let out a high pitched wail, "Did I say stop slut?" I asked.

"Shit, sorry, oh god, shit , shit, ohhhhhhhh," she wailed but opened her legs and tried to hoist herself up my cock mid orgasm and I watched and smiled as her arms shook along with her knees and again as she pulled up until her cunt was almost off me and stretched at its widest point by my helmet she exploded and came hard and noisily. 

"Drop," I shouted and she instantly dropped and greased my shaft with her come and set about riding me harder than before now that she'd came.

Just then my phone bleeped beside me, I reached over and opened the message from Fiona which read;

"Can I come home now owner?" 

I text her straight back;

"Yes come home but don't come up I've have a young slut up her full of cock."

I dropped the phone back down and carried on enjoying Alice's excellent efforts as she rode me like a seasoned slut now.

Fiona couldn't of been far away when she text, probably sat in the car like a dumb obedient whore because less than ten minutes after the text Alice stopped mid stroke and her eyes sprang open at the sound of the door opening and slamming shut.

"Oh fuck its mum," she said and went to push herself off.

"Don't you fucking dare slut else I'll shout her up here right now, get on your back you silly bitch," I said pushing her off me. Once she was down on her back I lifted her legs and pushed them back towards her and held the by the ankles so that her cunt was closed up. I was going t fill her up good and pound her making sure she screamed the fucking house down so that Fiona could hear her.

I pushed my cock at her hole and from the position I was holding her my helmet just bounced back unable to get access, I opened her legs until her pussy lips parted just enough for me to force my dick inside her, it was tight as hell and my god did she scream and shout unable to stifle her groans and squeals.

Once I was in I pulled her feet back together and made sure she knew her cunt was brimmed again and then I began to pull in and out, "Oh fuck Alice your pussy is tight," I gasped as like this it felt like it was having the life sucked from it. I fucked her hard and deep making sure that my bollocks slapped against her arse cheeks every time, not that you could hear this though as Alice's screams were loud and would definitely be heard by Fiona.

She came twice before I filled her with my sperm and once I'd emptied myself in her she scurried of silently to her room.

I lay on the bed for a moment just thinking about what my next move could be, Fiona was already well under my control and Alice was a work in progress, if I was to carry on being able to use them both eventually they would have to know about each other. I came to the conclusion that I would probably be easier for me to tell Fiona first that I was fucking Alice as she would protest but she was my whore and I'd set her straight. If I was to drop the bombshell on Alice that her mother was my whore and had been for a couple of years that might be all to much and hamper me advancing Alice in my mission to have her as my whore also.

I jumped up off the bed and slipped mu boxers on and headed downstairs thinking that there was no time like the present to let Fiona know.

Fiona was sat on the sofa still wearing her slutty outfit that I sent her out in last night, she looked slightly embarrassed after obviously hearing me fucking some bird but if I wasn't mistaken I was sure I could see a bit of anger and maybe even jealousy. I looked at her and said "Why the fuck aren't you naked you whore?" 

She looked up at me with them big stupid brown eyes and said, "I wasn't sure if Alice would be here," she said.

"Well she is here as a matter of fact but she's asleep so we won't be disturbed , strip," I told her.

She instantly shed her slutty outfit and was soon naked in front of me, I reached out and pulled her nipples and twisted them how she likes until they were erect. I then lowered my hand between her legs and felt her cunt, it wasn't any wetter than normal and certainly didn't seem like it'd been spunked in or fucked.

"Did you get any cock last night whore?" I asked slipping two fingers in her hole.

"No owner, I didn't there wasn't any at the hotel to fuck," she said and looked down as if she'd been naughty.

"You must be gagging then, get your lips round my cock," I told her.

Fiona was passed the stage of arguing almost six or seven months ago, she now just did as I asked and even though she knew I'd had my dick buried in some slut's cunt less than ten minutes ago she dropped to her knees and pulled down my boxers freeing my sticky cock. I saw her look at my dick and her face grimaced a little at its smell and sticky look. Little did she know that it was her daughter's cunt juice all crusted on my cock as she raised her head up and opened her mouth from beneath and engulfed my dirty cock.

"Oh yeah, you can't beat an experienced mouth that's for sure," I said as she clamped her mouth round my tool and began working me hard. Its at this point with her on her knees and vulnerable that I took her head and held it at the back and controlled the pace in which her mouth sucked my cock, but that wasn't the only reason I held her. "Maybe one day you can teach that slut of a daughter of yours to suck better."

"Ummpphhh," she tried to say and looked up at me looking panicked.

"I mean she knows how to fuck for a youngster I'm sure your heard her squealing from down here?" I said laughing as she again tried to pull off my cock and her panicked eyes looked up at me in horror as she knew that she was cleaning her daughter's cunt off me. I rammed my dick down her throat seven or eight times until she gagged and I pushed her off as she coughed and spat on the carpet.

"You bastard," she spat.

I grabbed her again and rammed my meat back down her throat over and over until she gagged and couldn't breathe until I pushed her off again so she could catch her breath. She didn't say anything this time and I pulled her up and led her to the dining room table and pushed her forwards over it and lifted her left leg up on to the side.

I pushed my cock at her dry arsehole and with a hard push it gave way and my cock filled her bottom, and Fiona groaned accepting what was to come. "Now that slut upstairs has been fucking her best friends boyfriend," I said as I began fucking her anally. "Now I found out about it and I have to say maybe she's a lot like you Fiona, a fucking slag who wants to be a whore," I said driving my cock in her bum deep.

"Nooo," she cried.

"I gave her an ultimatum just like you had the chance you whore, my silence if she woke me up sucking my dick; guess what the little slut chose? Like her mother she chose my cock," I said fucking her quicker now. "Now I'm going to be fucking Alice for a while, until I decide that the time is right she finds out about us and you then we carry on as normal is that understood you whore?" I told her as she began to squirm as orgasm overcame her.

Before she could answer she came hard on my cock, her anal passage tightened round my cock and I felt between her folds and slid three fingers in to her now leaking hole, her juice covered my fingers and ran over my hand as she came like a train, just like she always did buried full of my cock.

Once her orgasm had subsided she breathlessly answered me, "I understand owner, I understand," she said.

"Correct answer, now how would you like your arse filling with come?" I asked slamming her hard.

She panted and moaned but managed to say, "Yes owner fill my bum with your come please."

"Because you asked so nicely whore," I grunted as I drove my cock up her for the last time and shot my second load of the morning deep in to Fiona's rectum. Once I'd become almost soft I let my cock fall from her sticky anus and with hesitation she turned and bent at the waist to clean my cock. "Alice doesn't know I've told you and you will mention anything to her is that understood whore?" I told the back of her bobbing head as she cleaned me.

"Ummph ummpph," she muffled not removing her mouth from me. 

"I'll take that as a yes whore, there is going to be one new addition to your rules whore, when I'm upstairs fucking your daughter you will get naked and stand outside the door listen, not only will you listen whore but you'll finger you cunt and arse, and you'll video it and send it me," I told her as she expertly sucked my nuts and then stood up and looked me in the eye.

"Yes owner," she answered.

"Correct answer whore," I said and headed back upstairs.



Alice, Amelia, and Abigail



FROM THE LIFE AND TIMES OF HORATIO BLACKMON

Amelia and Abigail Knudsen were surprised--no, shocked--when they opened the door to their childhood home to see their mother's bleach-white thighs resting on the brawny walnut-brown shoulders of a naked Black man whose face was buried in the fading redness of her cunt. At first they thought their mother was being attacked, the way her still shapely calves were being rubbed against the man's back, the firm grip Alice's hands had on his head, her ragged breathing, and the her cries of "eat me nigger" and "lick my white cunt" and "Make me your Viking bitch" quickly belied the thought.

Although neither daughter said anything, the opening of the door, the change in air pressure, that sixth sense a homeowner or a mother has--something alerted Alice. She turned her head toward the front door, recognizing her daughters just as Race began to rasp his tongue back and forth against her clit. All the restraint of her Lake Woebegone upbringing disappeared as she squeezed Race's head, locked her ankles across his spine, lifted her ass off the couch and loosed a scream her daughters had never heard, and Race had heard several dozen times. Race stood, the motion breaking her grip on his head and his body. For a brief moment all three women stared at Race's cock, all knowing what was about to happen. Alice thought that she should stop him, but was immobilized by the anticipation of his cock penetrating her. Her daughters just stood there. While neither one was a virgin-in fact far from it-they had seldom watched anyone else have sex--especially not their mother!

Race was unaware of his audience. In the three months since he and Alice became lovers their lovemaking had settled into its routine. She would suck him until he was close to cumming, then he would eat her to her first orgasm. While she was in the throes of ecstasy he would plunge into her, letting her contractions milk his cock. He braced himself against the back of the couch and rammed himself home. As his balls kissed her ass, Alice reflexively began squeezing his cock. It was only when he looked at Alice's face did he realize that something was different. Instead of the unbridled lust he normally saw there, this time that look of lust was veiled by apprehension and anxiety. She indicated the doorway with her head and eyes, her cunt continuing to milk him. Race looked over his shoulder, startled to see two younger versions of the woman he was fucking. He had often imagined what Alice looked like when she was younger. Only he hadn't imagined her as twins or wearing flight attendant's uniforms. The twins looked like a set of salt-and-pepper shakers, Abigail's uniform being blue and Amelia's being red, each with white piping. Subconsciously a new fantasy was born in Race's mind.

The twins had watched this from the doorway, their luggage carriers in hand. Although they had watched a porno or two with other flight attendants, pilots and the occasional lucky passenger, voyeurism was neither of their tastes. But the sight of their mother, laying back against the couch, her legs wrapped around a Black man a good deal younger than her, held them mesmerized. And they were quite impressed when he rose and speared their mother. Given time, they probably would have backed out of the door, closed it, waited a suitable amount of time, then knocked loudly. But with their mother having looked their way, followed by Race's glance over his shoulder, they realized that the situation couldn't get more awkward and just stood there.

Race had been here before. Women with children always end up getting caught fucking, especially if they fuck in the living room like Alice and Race were doing. He knew the best thing to do was to let Alice define the situation and their responses. After all, he was inside her up to his balls, and she was continuing to milk his cock. He moved his hips slightly, pulling back about an inch before plunging in again. Alice closed her eyes and sighed, then opened them again. As much as she wanted their fucking to continue, her face said she was uncomfortable with the situation. Race leaned forward and kissed her as he pulled out, each noting the taste of each other. Standing up, Race turned toward the twins and nodded a greeting, then strode purposely up the stairs.

Alice stood, looked at her daughters. "We'll talk in the morning." She then turned and followed Race. The twins looked at each other then at the backside of their departing mother, then at each other again. Silently they closed the door and went to their childhood rooms. Neither spoke as they undressed and prepared for bed, but looked at each other several times in shock as their mother's screams rent the house.

The next morning the twins arose early, or rather they got up since they had not been able to sleep. Amy prepared the coffee and the two of them sat down with their cups, silently sipping the hospitality brew. They stole furtive glances at each other, embarrassed at what they had seen and heard, wanting to talk about it, yet not knowing what to say. Amelia nearly dropped the carafe of coffee she was holding when she heard her mother scream. She quickly looked at her twin sister Abigail, sitting at the kitchen table with her coffee cup poised in midair. Abigail returned her apprehensive look, instantly changed by the knowing smirks the two exchanged.

Another blood-curdling scream shook the two-story house, making the sisters wonder what the neighbors were thinking. Amelia had filled her cup by now and sat down as a series of "Eat me, nigger! I'm your white bitch! Fuck my white pussy!" filtered down from their mother's bedroom. Ten minutes later they heard her shower running. Amelia began fixing breakfast, joined silently by her sister. Hash browns, eggs, sausage and ham, biscuits, ore coffee, fruit salad. Standard Sunday fare.

They were on their second cup each when Alice and Race came into the kitchen, both wearing white terrycloth robes the twins had never seen before. The twins wanted to look away, yet they also wanted to take a good look at Race. What they saw was a reasonably nice looking Black man about halfway in age between them and their mother, slightly taller than her, and with a good body, slightly muscular for his age.

But it was their mother's appearance which shocked them! They had always remembered their mother as being well-groomed. Never a hair out of place, never in public without at least lipstick. What they saw was someone who had been ridden hard and put up wet. The two daughters looked at each other in dismay. Their mother's naturally red hair was hanging in wet strands down the side and back of her head to her shoulders. Her face had a puffiness now that the flush of her orgasm was gone. Only the trace of coloring was on her lips. Still tall at 56, the fullness of her breasts and her hips were barely covered by the robe she wore. When made-up and decked out, Alice was the image of the matron they hoped to be when they were her age. She slumped into a chair rather than sitting in the ladylike manner she had taught them to use. Race took the seat beside her.

"Amelia, Abigail," Alice began, "this is Mr. Horatio Blackman." The twins nodded acknowledgment with weak smiles. "Race, these are my daughters Amelia," Alice gestured toward the older twin. Race nodded in her direction. "Abigail," Alice said, gesturing toward the one born six minutes later. Race nodded again. He couldn't tell the difference, but at that time it didn't matter. He was just part of the scenery in this play between mother and daughters. Alice continued. "Race-he prefers that-and I have a relationship, as you saw last night. He's here every weekend, and a night or two during the week. While this is your home, and you're always welcome home--I think we're going to have to establish some ground rules. First, I think the two of you should call before you come over, just to let me know. The rest we can work out as things come up."

There was an awkward silence in the kitchen which Alice and Race thought caused by the revelations Alice had just made. Amy looked at Abby and Abby at Amy. Amy spoke for the two of them. "Mom, this isn't just a visit between flights." Alice looked inquiringly at her daughter. "We're moving back in," Amy continued. The surprise registered on Alice's face. And it wasn't joy. "Unless ..." Abby chimed in, "you would prefer your ... privacy."

Alice indeed preferred her privacy, but these were her daughters, her flesh and blood, the only close relatives she had. "Don't be silly," she said automatically. "This is your home as well as mine. It's a large house. You girls have your own rooms. We'll just have to make ... adjustments." The twins looked uneasily at each other. They recognized the lack of enthusiasm in their mother's voice the prospect of their living at home. They looked at Race, but could not read his face. Race did not help, but just sat there looking at the three red heads. Alice looked at him and saw a glint in his eyes that was not there before. She was not pleased. For the first time in her life she was jealous of her daughters. For the first time in her relationship with Race she felt threatened. Standing, she gave him The Look, then turned and left the kitchen.

Race stood and nodded in a very gentlemanly way to the twins. "Amelia, Abigail," then followed their mother out of the kitchen. As the twins fixed and ate breakfast, and cleaned the kitchen, they were constantly startled by the cries of their mother. Especially disturbing were the racial terms she used. "I'm your white bitch!" "Fuck me, nigger!" "I'm your white whore!" "I love your black dick!" Intrigued, each debated within herself whether she should leave the house for the morning, yet could not bring herself to do so.

***

The adjustment Alice had mentioned was not easy. Race and Alice had been lovers for about three months before her daughters found out about them. Both being flight attendants, their schedules and their social lives did not allow them to visit the family home often. And visiting suburban Hennipin County, Minnesota-the Twin Cities-was at the bottom of their social agenda. Too cold in the winter, too hot in the summer, and too dull all the time. Their mother had been a widow for twenty-two years, twenty-two years in which she seldom had male companionship. They had often wondered why their mother never remarried--indeed seldom dated. As they grew to womanhood, they were the most popular, i.e., prettiest, girls in their high school. And they realized that they were the spitting image of their mother when she was their age. Since they never lacked for male attention, they figured she shouldn't either. All three were 5'9", all with C-cups, all redheads with green eyes, all fine specimens of Scandinavian-American pulchritude. And Alice was no prude. She had spent a night or two away from home once the twins were in their mid-teens. But she never allowed men to stay over.

All through college and their early years as flight attendants, they knew that the house they grew up in would always be home. Their rooms were always ready, and they always had a key. When the slump in airline travel following September 11, 2001, reduced both their traveling and their income, returning to live at home on the eve of their thirtieth birthdays was an option. The twins flew about ten days each month, leaving them at home for about twenty days. Gone were perks such as free flights to exotic locations or the coast cities of Boston, New York, San Francisco, and Los Angeles. Since they seldom worked the same flight, at least one of them was usually home. They both got their first assignments after moving back home the same week-to Savannah, Georgia, for Amy and Phoenix, Arizona, for Abby. Neither city had the social milieu either woman appreciated, and they found themselves back at the airport in Minneapolis together two days later. Amy dutifully called their mother, then the two decided to wait an additional hour before going home. They found themselves alone in the flight attendant's lounge, when Abby asked what they were both thinking.

"Sis," she began tentatively, "I need to talk to you about ... Mom." Amelia turned and looked at her sister expectantly. She had been wanting this conversation for the last two weeks. "I don't feel right about what's happened to her." Amelia nodded in agreement. "I mean ... I'm glad she's found someone. And I don't have anything against Race. But ..."

"I know," Amy added. "I was just as surprised as you that she would have a relationship with a Black man." Amy immediately looked at her sister, afraid that what she said sounded different than what she intended. "Not that there's anything wrong with that! It's just that it seems so out of character for her. And let's face it, he is much younger than her."

Abby nodded in agreement. "They don't seem to have anything in common except sex!"

They looked knowingly at each other again. Both then felt the need to assure each other that they were not racist. Amy spoke first. "Not that there's anything wrong with Race, mind you. He's always the perfect gentleman whenever I'm around. In fact, if he wasn't involved with Mom, I might be interested in him."

"Yeah, he's not bad looking." Abby agreed. "But," she continued, "what I meant when I said I don't feel right about Mom is not Race, but her language!" Amy nodded in agreement. "When did she began thinking and talking like that! And why does Race take it? I'm sure having sex with a 56-year old white woman can't be that great to him." Amy could only shake her head in agreement.

***

At the end of the first month of the twins' return, the four of them were watching the NBA playoffs, a sport the three women had never been interested, when Abigail blurted out, "Those Black players got a lot of blonde girlfriends."

She immediately turned as red as her hair, quickly looking at Race and her mother, then staring at the tv. Amy also turned red, sharing her sister's embarrassment. Abby stole glances at her mother and Race. Race acted nonchalant, continuing to watch the tv. But Abby did notice a slight smirk on his face. Alice was not so calm. She glared at her daughters with an anger they had never seen.

"And what is wrong with a Black man having a blonde girlfriend, Abigail?" she asked pointedly.

"Nothing, Mom," Abby replied, sheepishly. She looked at her mother and Race quickly, then returned to the tv.

"I wasn't aware I had reared a bigot," Alice continued.

Amy came to her sister's defense. "That's not fair, Mom. It's not like there are a lot of Blacks in Minnesota. And we're not the ones yelling 'fuck me nigger' and 'I'm your white whore' in the middle of the night."

Amy had not intended to say what she just said, but was glad she did. As was Abigail. Alice was right-she didn't raise two bigots. She was at a loss for words. She hadn't realized she was so vocal, or what her words sounded like to anyone but Race. Race knew it was time for him to speak.

"Amelia, Abigail," he began, "You need to understand the nature of our relationship. Your mother and I first had sex at an orgy ..." At this the twins' jaws dropped. Now it was Alice who turned red.

"Well, not a real orgy. Me, her, and three of our co-workers. I won't go into details here, except to say it was me and three white women. It started as at the Black Cauldron, the housewares company where your mother works. I had been brought in as a temp to supply the muscle as they did an inventory on the corporate offices and discarded items no longer used. In the corporate training room one of the women discovered several porno tapes the brass liked to run on the five-foot monitor. One had this Black guy going down on two blondes while who yelled a stream of 'Eat me, nigger!' 'That spade can really eat pussy!' 'Suck that black cock!' 'Fuck that blonde pussy!' 'Ride me, nigger!' This didn't surprise me. I had never met a white person who wasn't racist."

At this he paused to look at the twins. Each had the expected "No, not me, I'm no racist," expression. Race was not about to let them off easy.

"When you came in the house that first evening, don't tell me the first thought you had was that some nigger was raping your mother." The twins looked at each other, then at their mother, turning red again.

"I found that a lot of white women not only get off on having sex with a Black man, but enjoy using the most racist language in describing their relationship." He paused to let what he said sink in before returning to his original explanation. "The tapes caused one of the women to have a nervous breakdown. She had never had a man go down on her, in fact hadn't had sex for several years despite being married. She was horny as hell and began crying about how she was never going to have sex again. We tried to comfort her, ending with me eating her. Your mother and the others then began making noises about being in the same boat as Gertrude, so I ended up eating your mother and the others, plus some other sexual action.

"The following week your mother let me know that her first experience at receiving oral sex was exciting, and she wanted to continue receiving it. We started seeing each other, but it turned out her inhibitions kept her from really enjoying it. Especially when it came to her giving me head." Again the twins looked at their mother in shock and in embarrassment.

"Aw, come on, ladies," Race said, really perturbed that the twins insisted on maintaining an air of middle American prudishness. "Don't tell me neither of you have never sucked a cock!" The glances the twins gave each other revealed the truth of Race's question.

"So we decided to recreate the original circumstances, sort of, by having her use the same language used in the video. Most women don't realize they have to learn how to be eaten as much as a man needs to learn how to eat pussy. I encouraged her to yell and scream whenever she had an orgasm. And we added a little dominance to our lovemaking. Your mother likes to refer to our having sex as 'therapy,' rather than having sex as part of a relationship. Your mother needs to think of what we were doing as illicit-dirty. We'd come a long way. The two of you moving in set your mother back about two months."

The room was silent except for Brent Musberger's inane commentary. Race looked at the tv and realized he had missed most of the second quarter. Abigail looked at her mother and Race, trying to understand what the Black man had just said. Amy reclined into the sofa, looking at some spot on the far wall.

"You say we've set Mom back a couple of months, Race?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied.

"How?"

Race looked at Alice, then the twins. "You know anything about basketball games?" he asked no one in particular. No one answered. "Halftimes are supposed to be twelve minutes. Given commercials, sports talks and commercials, they often last about twenty minutes." Race looked at Alice, who now knew where this was leading. "Your mother and I usually took this time to practice her oral techniques."

Amy and her sister looked at their mother, whose anger now turned to embarrassment. Race looked at her then at the twins.

"See. She's embarrassed and ashamed. Three months ago she would be kneeling between my legs, both of us naked as jaybirds, with her giving one helluva blow job. Now she's sorry she ever had my dick in her mouth. When you two first discovered us, I had spent nearly the entire day licking your mother's body, not just her pussy, in every room of this house. Now we only have sex in her bedroom, and pretty conventional sex at that. I used to be able to run my hand-or my head-under her dress, knowing I would find a hairy pussy openly inviting me. Now, she's ashamed to even hear the word 'pussy.' And she's back to wearing panties and a bra all the time. You don't know how difficult it was to get her to go out in public without panties! I had to wait until we were where we were going and attack your mother in the car, stripping them off her! I'm just lucky I never got arrested!"




Alice, Amelia, and Abigail



The twins looked at their mother again, who was now staring at her lap. Race reached over and took her hand in hers, their fingers interlacing.

"I enjoy fucking your mother. I enjoy the way she sucks my cock." Alice turned a deeper red, if possible. Still, she felt a certain pride in what Race was saying. "I enjoy the way she feels under me when we fuck. I enjoy the way she kisses my entire body. I enjoy kissing hers." Race squeezed Alice's hand. "And I'm proud that I've helped her become the truly sexual creature she is. And I miss that creature."

The twins then looked from Race, straight-faced, to their mother, shamefaced in a proud way. Race and Alice were holding hands like young lovers.

Amy spoke. "That's beautiful, Race." Turning to her mother, "Mom, this is your house. You should feel free to express yourself anyway you want." Alice looked gratefully at her daughter, but both knew she did not feel that free.

"Race," Amy continued. "I'm sorry Abby and I have stopped your enjoyment of our mother. If you want your dick sucked during these halftimes, I'll suck it for you."

The offer came as a shock to Alice and Abby, a surprise to Race. Alice stared at her daughter, Abby at her sister, as if a retraction was in the offering. It wasn't. Amy, now on the edge of the couch, looked straight at Race, who wondered how long Amy had wanted him.

"I appreciate the offer, Amy," he responded, "but it's up to your mother."

"Mom?" Amy asked, looking at her mother.

Alice looked at her in shock, not able to respond. Race squeezed her hand a second time, causing her to face him.

"Mrs. Knudsen," he began, locking his brown eyes on her green ones. "Miss Amelia Knudsen requests your permission to render me an oral service."

These were the words that Race had used when he taught her to give head. For the second time since her daughters returned home, Alice felt threatened. At least one of her daughters wanted to suck her boyfriend's cock, which meant she wanted to do more. Her boyfriend wanted her daughter to suck his cock, which meant he wanted to do more. And Alice was unwilling to do what was necessary to regain control. She searched Race's face for some sign that he would spurn the offer. There was none. Amelia rose and came over to Race, kneeling before him. She reached for his zipper, only to have him place his hand over hers, stopping her.

"Mrs. Knudsen?" Race asked again.

Alice looked at her daughter and recognized the absolute lust in her eyes. She looked at Race not knowing what to say or do. Race moved her hand to his zipper, replacing Amy's.

"Unzip me," he commanded. Alice did. "Take me out."

Again Alice complied, Race having to lift himself off the loveseat to aid her. When he settled down, his now hard dick poked through the fly of his pants, Alice's white fingers firmly gripping it, about an inch of black skin between her hand and the flaming pink head. Race had intended that Alice present him to Amy, but the sight of his dick only inches from her face proved irresistible. Before he could give Alice another instruction, Amy leaned forward and took him into her mouth down to her mother's fingers. Alice stared at the sight, wondering if this is how she looked when she sucked Race. It reminded her of an ice cream cone with different scoops. Amelia's red hair, white skin, Race's black dick, her own white fingers. Like strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate in a sugar cone.

While Amy was no novice to cocksucking, she was no expert either. Her past experiences consisted of her tentatively putting a cock in her mouth for a few seconds, never longer than a few minutes, followed by being eaten or fucked. She had never wanted to suck a cock, and only did it out of reciprocity and expectation. In fact, it had only happened when she and another flight attendant were having a threesome with some guy, usually a pilot or male flight attendant. When it came to oral sex, Amy preferred being eaten, and she preferred the head between her legs to be female. But now she had a cock in her mouth that she wanted there. And she now realized she didn't know what to do with it.

Race realized she didn't know what to do with it either. After about a minute or so with it just being in her mouth, Race placed his free hand on the side of Amy's face and pulled her off of him. Amy looked at him, apprehensively, thinking he was not pleased. In fact, he wasn't. Been here, done that. Time to teach another red-haired, green-eyed Scandinavian how to suck cock.

"Just lick the head, like an ice cream cone," he instructed. Alice smiled inwardly. Those words she had heard before. It satisfied her to no end to know that her daughter was no better at sucking cock than she had been. If Amy was to be a threat, it would not be through her skills at cocksucking. She relaxed her grip on Race's cock, placing the tips of her fingers in line along the underside. Race removed his hand from her wrist and turned her face toward his. As Amy licked his cock like a kitten with a new toy, Race kissed Alice, forcing his tongue into her mouth. Alice knew that she need not fear her own daughter anymore. She also knew that at least two Knudsen women would not be wearing panties around the house anymore, either.

The third Knudsen redhead was having a different relationship with her panties. Abby had watched in stunned silence as her sister offered then proceeded to suck Race's cock. She had watched her mother remove the cock of a black man, offer it to her first-born daughter, then kiss that black man as that daughter licked that cock. As she watched the tableau of white to black to white, she unconsciously had raised her legs and inserted her fingers inside the crotch of her panties. She was busily finger fucking herself when Race broke his kiss with her mother and looked in her direction. His smile informed her that she too would join her sister and her mother. She cried out her orgasm just as Musberger announced the beginning of the second half.

Abby's cry caused Alice and Amy to look in her direction, surprised to see her with her feet on the seat cushions exposing the back of her thighs and her crotch. They were more surprised to see the crotch of her panties pulled aside and the fingers of one hand buried in her pussy while the fingers of the other rubbed her clit. Abby's eyes were closed, so she didn't see Race rise and walk over to her, led by his cock. Only when he removed the hand inserted in her pussy did she open her eyes to find herself staring at his walnut-brown chest. Just as she realized what was happening Race speared her exactly as he had speared her mother that first evening Abby and her sister discovered them. Like her mother, Abby's contractions began milking Race's cock. Race enjoyed the sensation for a few minutes, then began stroking Abby's pussy.

Alice and Amelia had watched all this with dismay. Having regularly been in Abby's position, she knew what Abby was experiencing. More importantly, she knew what experience Race was having, and giving. Having just gotten over jealousy about her eldest daughter, she was now jealous of her youngest one. One reason Race ate pussy was the pleasure of sticking his dick into an orgasming pussy. It was his technique of fucking her as soon as she began cumming that led to her learning cuntal control. And now her daughter was giving Race that pleasure.

Amelia's dismay had a different basis. It was her who had sucked Race to hardness, it should be her who received the fucking that hardness produced. Now her little sister was the beneficiary of her oral attentions. Most unfair!

Race was oblivious to all three ladies, even the one he was fucking. His dick was moving in and out of a wet, clasping pussy. He was about to cum. He came, burying his cock in that pussy until his balls touched the soft ass that supported it. As he collapsed on top of Abby, he heard Musberger announce the end of the third period. Abby placed her hands on either side of his head and kissed him, knowing as only a woman knows that she had just become a mother. She pulled the crotch of her panties back into place, hoping to keep as much of Race's cum inside her as possible. Race returned the kiss, then rolled to sit beside her, his deflated cock coated with their secretions.

Race regained his senses, looked at Alice, then Amy, then the tv. Damn! he thought, I've missed most of the game. Amelia removed her panties and sat on the floor flat-footed,, legs spread, giving Race a beaver shot. If it worked for her sister, why not for her? Alice didn't notice Amy's ploy, so intent was she staring at the couple on the couch. Her boyfriend had just fucked her daughter and the proof was right before her eyes in his slime-coated dick and the juices soaking the crotch of her daughter's panties and oozing down her ass.

Race tried to concentrate on the final period of the game. The Lakers were playing Sacramento, trailing by seventeen. Shaq had five fouls and only 15 points. Kobe had just banged his knee and was hobbling up the court. Every basketball fan more than 100 miles away from Los Angeles love to see the Lakers lose, yet remain fascinated when the most talented dozen men in the sport mount a comeback. Despite the score and the condition of its star players, the Lakers seem to be ready to shift into Showtime.


A comeback was also on Amy's and Abby's minds, for different reasons. Maybe it's having started out as one cell, or maybe being raised as one child in two bodies, or just being sisters-Abby looked at Amy's position and read both her body and her mind: "That fuck you just got was mine!" Rather than gloating, Abby felt guilty-not much, but guilty. She looked at Race's dick laying like a dead fish against his pants. She reached over and gingerly picked it up with her finger tips. Like her sister, Abby was neither a novice to cocksucking nor an expert at it. While she did not savor a cum-soaked dick, she had mouthed one before, in fact one covered with Amy's juices. Race looked at her, then followed her gaze toward her sister. What was about to happen was between them; he was merely their instrument of communication. He returned to the game just as he felt Abby's tongue begin licking him.

Alice was in a permanent state of shock. She had never even thought of sucking Race when he was in that condition. What had her daughters been up to since leaving Hennipin County? While their suburban home was never a little house on the prairie, and they were not reared as farmer's daughters, their sexual experience was more than she had thought. It didn't occur to her that they were just as surprised by her sexuality. She looked at Race, who was concentrating on the tv. Alice wasn't sure whether he was truly interested in the game or just avoiding her gaze. She looked at Amy, and was glad Race was looking at the tv set.

Amy was no longer presenting Race with a beaver shot, should he look her way, but was actively finger-fucking herself. She had just reached that state where she could no longer finger her clit, but needed to get off. Abby's mouthwork had restored Race to a decent erection. She was trying hard to make it harder when she was roughly pushed aside by her sister. Amy planted her knees firmly on either side of Race's hips, grabbed his saliva/cum-slicked pecker and guided him into her. She held him as she slid down to his pants, releasing him only when her nether lips touched the zipper. She leaned forward and kissed him as she began bouncing on his lap. 'I'm going to have to start taping these games,' thought Race as he returned the kiss. He came with Amy just as Musberger announced the game tied with three minutes to play.

Race almost did not hear Musberger, for as soon as she began coming Amy yelled, "Oh yes, nigger! Let me ride your black pole!" Race noted that if he didn't know whose pussy was riding his dick, he would have sworn it was Alice making these sounds.

Abby noted the near identicality also. She wondered why her mother and sister had such a racist streak. After all, she had practically been raped by Race, yet she hadn't yelled such things. And she was carrying his child, even if it would take another month or so to confirm it. If it was a girl, she would make sure it was not influenced by the racial views of its grandmother and aunt.

Alice wondered if that was how she sounded to her daughters, smugly satisfied that she was not the only woman in the family who yelled racial epithets in the throes of orgasm.

Amy kept bouncing as she came, shouting "I'm your white whore! I'm your white bitch!" like a mantra. Race hugged her to him, not in lust or affection, but to get a clear view of the tv. The Shaq had just fouled out, Divac was at the foul line, putting the Kings ahead by two. Stojakovic stole the inbound pass for an easy lay-up. Kings by four, inside of one minute.

Amy calmed down and stopped bouncing just as the last "I'm your white bitch" left her mouth; this one she heard. She immediately looked at Race, who was watching tv, then at her mother, who was glaring at her, then at her sister, who looked on, bemused. Amy buried her face in the crook of Race's neck, knowing the flush in her face was embarrassment, not lust. She took some comfort in the fact that Race was hugging her, that his now wilting dick was still inside her. Somewhere in the distance she heard a man's voice shouting "Kobe shoots a three. He misses, rebound to Fox, he misses, Divac with the rebound, he's stripped. Horry shoots, he's fouled by Turkoglu. It goes!!! A three-pointer for Horry plus the foul!"

Race eased Amy off of him and to his side just as Horry sunk the free throw. Time ran out on the inbound pass, and Musberger excitedly announced overtime. Alice looked at the couch uneasily. There was Race like a black book between two redheaded white bookends, his wilted dick again coated with the secretions of himself and one of her daughters.. Abby was still sitting with her feet on the couch, her knees under her chin, showing her cum-drenched panties and thighs, a certain smugness on her face. Amy sat on the other side, her legs pressed together, hand in her lap, trying to pretend she was watching the game. For the first time Alice noticed how the scent of their sex now filled the room. She now realized that the cushion under Abby was being stained, and the cover should be removed immediately. Subconsciously she knew that the cushion under Amy was being similarly stained. And Race's pants.

A series of commercials were airing on the tv. Alice knew enough about sports to know that overtime was an excuse for the station to sneak in another five minutes of commercials before the game started again. She stood, rather imperiously, and looked at them. "Race," she started, " I think those pants need to be soaked before those stains set." Race stood and removed his pants and boxers, having to sit to complete the job. He handed them to her, sitting rather incongruously between the twins in his shirt, socks, and shoes, his cock coated with his and Amy's drying juices. If she had thought about it, Alice would have been struck by how Race's appearance reflected the male of porno tape she had seen. She realized that Race was spent for the day. At least he wouldn't be fucking another woman until he'd fucked her again.

Looking at her daughters, Alice said, "I think you two should get out of those clothes." Implied was that they should also shower. They rose and headed for their rooms, revealing the stains on the couch cushions. Alice picked up the cushions on either side of Race, gave him The Look, and headed for the laundry room. 

Race remained where he was, thinking it was rather senseless to move now. He knew that more adjustments were in store. Although spent for the day, he also knew he was going to spend the rest of the day with his face buried in some redhead's pussy. He should at least see how the game ended. After all, only five more minutes of playing time remained. As Musberger announced the Kings' line up for overtime, Race thought: Turkoglu, Divac, Stojakovic. These guys should be on a soccer team, not a basketball team. Do white basketball players have Black girlfriends?

-000-