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Goddess

By: charlesw69



Sydney – September in the late 80's

Franco

It all started in yet another lousy day that was just getting worse. The glamour of working as a journalist had gone with the winds of many years ago and to make things even more unappealing my boss, the most pompous John Joseph Leddcombe had summoned me to his office. My feet were walking me there but my mind was purposefully wandering away in search of a refuge from the inevitable. All of the sudden I began to notice the worn carpet, I saw that the walls were in need of another coat of paint. The smell of stale beer from the drinks of the night before invaded my nostrils and the deadness of a very boring existence jumped to my eyes with a presence as blatant as the summer midday sun. 

John always tended to have that effect on people. Everyone would either get depressed by him or would try to find a bearable distraction. Finding the most infinitesimal shred of an excuse to avoid paying any attention to him was cause for celebration and enjoyment beyond belief.

'Close the door' he said. I knew what was coming. I had heard it all before, more times than I would care to remember. 'She didn't have the right to leave me to go with that…that 'thing' that she is living with now.' 



Goddess



It was a very old sandstone building. I knocked on the door and Father Patrick opened it as if he had been standing on the other side, waiting for me to come. He made me sit on an old wooden chair facing the old style coal-burning heater that every winter would be responsible for giving a bad smell to the room and the entire neighbourhood. 

I told him everything, including my newly found religious doubts. When I finished talking he took my hand an guided me to the church where we prayed for hours. When we stood up he said 'My son, you have been tempted by the dark forces of evil and you must pray for God to show you the way to your redemption and salvation'. I felt calmer.

I went home and did not have any dinner, only a shower and more prayers before going to bed. Sleep was very slow in coming. I tossed and turn for hours before exhaustion overtook me. 





Goddess



I am rushing around, running late, nervous as usual. It's always hard the first time with a new....friend. The butterflies are fluttering in my tummy as I text you the address of the hotel and the room number. I look at myself in the mirror one more time and head out.

The confidence grows every minute I am in the car. Yes this is his first dalliance outside of his 'boring, sexless marriage' (as he called it) and he was essentially a virgin to all of the kinkiness I hold near and dear to my heart, but that only means that I can teach him to enjoy some of the naughtiness that I enjoy.

I smooth the skirt over my legs as I get out of the car. I try not to fidget with it too much on my way up to the room. I get to the door and knock. When he opens the door my butterflies disappear.....this was going to be a hell of a night.....

He is tall, bald, chubby, and wearing these cute little glasses. I smile at him hoping to reassure the nervousness in his eyes. He ushers me in and closes the door quietly behind me. I look around the room; it is very nice for an older hotel, lots of room and a huge bathroom with a Jacuzzi tub in it. I set my purse down and turn to give the larger man behind me a great big hug. I kiss his neck as I rub my hands up and down his back. He moans a little at the kiss, making me want to do more. I restrain myself and pull back just a little.

"It's nice to finally meet you. What would you like to do tonight?" I take his hands that are resting on my back and place them on my breasts and squeeze his hands over them. He groans again. 

My hands roam over his chest, around his back, over his ass and finally I slide my hand over the crotch of his pants. He is rock hard; it feels fairly large too.....this was going to be fun!

He moans and grinds his cock into my hand as he gropes my breasts gently. 

"Mmm, it feels like you are a little excited about this. Your ready to have some hot fun aren't you?"

"Oh yes," he replies "And you are so sexy. I want to make love to you so bad. Please Stacey, can I make love to you tonight?"

That question made me so wet, the thoughts that started swimming around my naughty little head got me wetter.

"Oh sweetie, of course we will make love. I just want to show you some fun new things that will make you really hot. Do you want to have some really naughty fun?"

"Yes, please, anything you want to do! Teach me how you like to do things."

I smile sweetly at him and say "I have the perfect idea for something fun and hot to do tonight sweetie. Do you know what BDSM is? You know, tie me up and spank me kind of things?"

"I've heard of it, but I don't want to tie you down." He replies sheepishly.

"No sweetie, I would tie you down and play with you and show you things you have only dreamed about. I will make love to you and explore you, but I will be in charge. I will take control and show you how much fun we can have together ok?"

I feel his cock throb harder in his pants and I know I have him. I pull him down to kiss me, I start gently, exploring his mouth, his tongue, his lips then moving on to kiss him all over his face and head.

"On your knees." I demanded.

He quickly drops to his knees. His hands holding my hips like a man drowning in need of salvation. 

"Now, obey me, don't question. If you are worried about something we may do say the word yellow and we will stop and discuss things. If you become totally unhappy with things say red and it will all stop. Understand?" I run my hand over his head and under his chin, lifting it until our eyes meet.

"Yes, oh you are a Goddess, yes!" He moans.

"Good, undress me. After each piece of clothing is removed I want you to say thank you and kiss a bare piece of skin that was just uncovered. Stay on your knees and you cannot touch yourself or me in a sexual nature unless I give you permission. Understood?" 

He nodded quickly. His hands went to the hem of my shirt. He started to pull it up slowly over my tummy. The only sound in the room was his and my breathing. He got it up to my arms and I crouched a little to get it off totally. His eyes roamed over my breasts, held deliciously captive in a lacy black bra. He leans forward and kisses my exposed tummy and whispers thank you. 

His hands go to my back and unfasten my skirt and it drops to the floor. I step out of it and place it with my shirt. He groans loving the fact that I am naked under my skirt except for stockings. He finds a safe place and kisses the top of my hipbone and whispers thank you. His hands go up behind me to unfasten my bra. He fights with it and finally unhooks it. He slides the bra off of the rest of the way. He hesitates, not knowing where to kiss. He leans forward and kisses right in between my breasts and moans, thank you. His hands go to my feet and gently take off my shoes, his hands go to the top of my stockings and start to roll one down, he takes it off and kisses my foot and whispers thank you. Repeating the process for the second stocking he kisses my knee this time and whispers thank you as he looks deep into my eyes.

I rub his cheek and tell him what a good boy he is. I walk over to the bed and lay down. 

"Now stand up and strip for me." I order him. He blushes a little at the request but starts to take off his shirt. He slides it over his head and tosses it to the side. His hands go to his zipper but I stop him. "Turn around; I want to see all of you." He blushes a deeper shade of red but obediently turns himself around slowly. He gets back to where he started and I allow him to begin again but advise him after he takes off his pants I will want him to turn again, the same with his underwear.

The blush grows deeper and starts to show a little on his chest as well. His nipples are hard points and I can see the bulge in his pants. I smile sweetly at him as he starts to remove his pants. He turns. He hesitates. He quickly slides his boxers down and stands in front of me with his huge cock throbbing and pointing at me. I lick my lips and smile. He starts to turn and I have him stop when his back is to me. 

"Nice, very nice. A huge cock and a sexy ass. You are so hot." I stand up and walk to him. My hands run over his naked back and down his ass. I squeeze his cheeks and gently scratch them with my nails. He groans at the stimulation. 

I pull his head down and whisper in his ear. "I want to feel your tongue on me. I want you to worship my pussy." His cock throbs and he moans. "Oh yes, whatever you want." He whimpers. 

I grab his cock and use it to lead him to the bed where I lay down with my legs spread wide. He lies in between my legs and gives a few tentative licks. I get frustrated and pull his head into my pussy. He starts licking like crazy. He licks up and down my slit, gently poking his tongue inside of me. He flicks my clit with the tip of his tongue making me shiver. I hump my pussy against his face as he licks me, so close to orgasm, aching for it. 

I push his head away and have him lay on the bed. I straddle his head with my knees and have him lick my pussy that way. I ride his face; hump it like I was fucking it. I kneel up every few seconds so he can get air and then go back to him licking me that way. 

His hands grab my hips and he pulls me down tight on his face and he slides his tongue deep inside of me as my clit hits his nose.....it sends me over the edge and I orgasm, grinding my pussy all over his face. I get off of him and kiss him deeply loving the taste of my pussy on his mouth. "Go wash your face sweetie."

He gets up and goes to the bathroom to wash his face. 

He walks back into the room. "Go lie on the bed, face up, spread eagled." He scurries onto the bed, lying exactly as I asked. His cock throbbing and bobbing up and down. I go to my purse and grab the two pairs of handcuffs I slid inside, just in case we wanted to get really naughty. I walk back to him, looking at his eyes that bugged out when he saw I had the handcuffs in my hands. 

"You trust me don't you? You remember the words right?" I ask him soothingly. He nods his head. "Yes." He gruffly whispers. I walk up to him and secure one cuff to the headboard and then to his wrist. I walk around and do the other. He struggles lightly against them feeling how helpless he really is and moans.

I run my hands over his chest, pinching his nipples, tickling his sides lightly, caressing him. My hand runs lower to his tummy, scratching him with my nails. Lower, I avoid his throbbing manhood and scratch down and back up his legs. I scratch my nails lightly over his balls and he almost loses it. He groans and squirms and thrusts his cock up toward my hand. I move away. Let him get under control and I start playing with him again.

I start by kissing him, his lips, his eyes his cheeks, his chin, his neck, his ears. I move down to his chest and start kissing, licking, sucking and nibbling on his hard nipples.

He groans loudly as I have my way with his nipples. Moaning and writhing under my tormenting mouth. I kiss down his tummy, flicking his belly button with my tongue. I bypass his wildly throbbing cock and kiss his legs. I get on the bed with him and spread his legs open wide and back a little, jutting his ass out toward me. 

I lean down and lick his tight ass hole slowly licking like it was a lollipop. He groans and says that he is going to cum if I keep going. I stop and move away from him. He keeps his legs up, making sure he holds the position I placed him in. 

"You can relax, put your legs down." 

He gives a relieved sigh and puts his legs down. I look at his cock, it is hot and red and angry. He needs to cum badly. 

"You like this don't you baby. You like it when I force you to receive the pleasure that you have been denied so long. You want me to keep you like this forever don't you? In this constant state of arousal, not knowing what I might do next. You need me to own you don't you...pet?"

At the sound of the name pet, he groans loudly "Oh fuck, I'm cumming." And starts shooting his hot cum into the air. I watch his orgasm and go to the bathroom to get something to wash him up with.

I chastise him, "Normally I would lick this off of you, but since I haven't touched your cock with my mouth yet, I won't give you that pleasure. Next time you need to control yourself."

"Yes, I promise I will." He whispers.

I work his cock up again into a nice erection. I lean forward and lick his balls, sucking them in turn in my mouth. I lick up the shaft of his hardening cock. I suck the tip, very lightly, teasing him until he groans. I start to suck in a slow, steady rhythm. I taste his precum, he is already ready to cum again. I try to suck all of his big cock down and choke a little when it hits too far back. "Fuck, you really are a Goddess." He whispers.

I stop sucking him and look him in the eye. I climb on top of him, without breaking eye contact. I slowly sink myself down until the lips of my pussy are kissing the tip of his cock. I grab a hold of him and slide on down, slowly, making him feel as every inch sinks into me. I sit still when he is all the way in. 

"Doesn't that feel amazing?" I ask him. "To know your buried deep inside my hot pussy and not be able to fuck me the way you want. I will ride your big cock until I cum and if you should cum in me before I tell you too you will be in so much trouble....I will have to punish you."

I slowly start to ride his cock. Little up and down movements. I grab my breasts and start to pinch my nipples. I start riding him faster and faster until I am slamming down hard on his cock. Using it to make myself cum, I pinch my nipples harder until I can't handle it and just orgasm hard on his big fat cock. I moan in absolute pleasure and collapse on top of him.

I kiss his chest. "Good boy, you didn't cum."

"You told me not too, I almost did but I was trying to make you happy." He groans.

I start to ride his cock again, slowly, teasing him....

"You may cum pet, cum deep in your Goddesses pussy."

He groans in pleasure "Thank you, Thank you my sweet Goddess." And starts shooting his cum deep inside of my pussy. 

As he is cumming I lean forward and kiss him deeply. I slide off of him and clean up a little. Clean him up too. I get the keys from my purse and unlock his hands. He jumps up and grabs me and twirls me around. He lays me on the bed and kisses me hard. 

"That was the most intense experience I have ever had. I have never gotten that hard again that quickly or came twice in a night. You are a Goddess; please don't tell me we can't ever do this again." He says quickly.

"I promise we can do this again sweetie, as often as you would like."

We cuddle up with each other and fall deeply asleep....



Goddess



We get up from our seats at our trendy downtown spot for lunch. We've already paid the bill.. So now we slowly head out the door of the restaurant.. But still in the buildings lobby. I start by taking my hands and cradle your face, your chin. I reach up and place my blush colored lips upon yours. I bite your lower lip slightly, then suck on it. Your hands upon the back of my head, your fingers through my long red hair. I take my lips and kiss each side of your face, towards your ears and begin to suck your earlobes with my lips. Then whisper sweet words, with my hot breath into your ear. Your hands still on the back of my head, your fingers running through my long red hair, you arch your neck to take in my hot steamy kisses.

Before we could go any further, you grab my hand and we enter the bathroom stall off to the right of the lobby. You know, it's one of those glass ones, that you can see out, but no one can see in. Or so my girlfriend likes to believe. Anyway, I begin to send kisses down your long neck, down to the hollow between your breasts. You still have your shirt on. Unbuttoned down to the right spot; showing your slightly heaving chest. I know your not wearing your bra, its obvious. Being who you are, and being with you in public and with all this public display of affection, it just turns me on, in general, and for you.

You have the most tantalizing, beautiful body. I know you don't like it.. But the body of a goddess. The right weight for your height. I begin to pull your shirt off your left shoulder and caress your skin there with my hands, followed by my blush colored lips. Then take your shirt off your right shoulder and caress you with my hands and send you kisses there as well. I begin to send kisses down your long torso. Kissing the hollow between your breast, leaving them in their wake. You give me a moan of protest. I know you like your breast touched, and your nipples sucked. But I want you to wait. I continue kissing your long torso, I lave my tongue in your belly button.

Then travel my kisses back up your long torso, and kiss each breast, first the underside of one, then the other. I take each breast and caress and lave each nipple. Taking my tongue over the top and then back down. You moan with pleasure. Your moaning turns me on even further. I take my velvet tongue and place it underneath your nipple, and my blush colored lips over its peak, and begin to suckle your breast.

My hand reaches up to caress your other nipple. The back of my hand sliding across its erect peak. I take and kiss your nipple one last time, you moan in disapproval. I take my blush colored lips upon your other breast and begin to suckle you there. You take your hands and place them on the back of my head again, and run my fingers through my long red hair. My hand caresses your already bathed nipple on your other breast. You like your nipples sucked, and I love to suckle them for you. I love having my velvet tongue underneath your nipple and my lips planted over the top and just suckle you.

Your nipples feel so good in my hot steamy mouth, and your breast feels so good in my hand. Not too much or too little meat.. But just the right amount of flesh and bone. I break away from your bathed nipples, and take both of my hands and cradle the sides of your breasts. Then hold your breasts in my hands and caress their aureoles and nipples. Running my thumbs across them, you let out a small whimper. I love to make out with you it turns me on. Being with you, touching you, caressing you, feeling your skin against my lips, my body against yours. You are so delicious.. So delectable. You fill my every senses. My eyes with your beauty, my nose with your sweet aroma, my mouth with your body, my ears with your soft little whimpers or protests.

I reach myself up and kiss you on your also blush colored lips. Taking you by surprise, I take my tongue and part your lips, you let my tongue dance with yours. I close my eyes, and take in this beautiful, sweet moment. You are just filling my every senses. Mind, heart, and soul. We kiss one last time, dancing our tongues together, before I take my hands and caress them down your body stopping at your breasts again. Caressing their sides and then the undersides, you let out a small whimper. I continue to kiss you further down your torso. Laving my tongue again in your belly button. Your hands on my head, fingers through my hair. I continue to lave there, then send kisses further down your torso.

In our playing, without realizing I think, you have hiked up your long skirt. I take my hands and kiss you right on your love place through your panties. You let out another slight whimper. I continue my kisses down each leg and then back up the inner sides of each leg. I take my hands and place them on your thighs, which is another place I love on you. In fact there are at least three places I truly love on you.. One is your beautiful swan like neck, the hollow between your collarbone. Two, your beautiful orbs, their aureoles, and gorgeous, sexy nipples. And last but not least.. Your beautifully sculpted thighs. I take my hands and reach up and underneath the leg bands of your panties on each thigh.. And gently pull them off of you.

You slowly lift up one foot at a time to step out of them. I place them on top of your purse. I take my face closer to your sweet sensuous aroma between your luscious long sculpted legs. Your dancers legs, if you will. I take my tongue and probe your inner being. You slightly spread your long luscious legs apart. I take my velvet tongue and slide it down your lips, again and again, then slowly parting them.

Laving your sweet lips, suckling the sweet flavorful juices forming on you. I lave my tongue in your wetness, caressing the inner sides of your lips. Then delving my tongue deeper into you. I dart my tongue in and out, like an accordion, in and out, in and out. With my hands caressing your sweet little derriere, my tongue delving ever deeper into your wetness. You let out another whimper. This time a little louder then the last. 

You are so into our kinky love making that I don't believe you are even on this plane, this atmosphere, this earth. I continue to lave your love hole, darting my tongue deeper into your wetness. This time on the upswing I connect with your love button. Making you whimper and moan more. I lave my tongue in your wetness one more time, then place my blush colored lips upon your protruding love button. And begin to suckle you there.

Your hand caressing my head, entwining your long fingers in my hair. I slowly look up, careful not to stop suckling your love button. I see your free hand is not so free anymore. Your caressing your breast, taking your thumb and forefinger and rolling your nipple there. I continue to suckle your protruding love button, but slightly smile at what you are doing. I love to suckle your breast, your nipples, and also watch you caress them yourself. It makes me hotter. And right now we're both about to flow. I get so turned on with our public display of love, that I completely shake with orgasm at the thought of you and me like this.

With that you begin to flow your sweet nectar onto my tongue, and into my mouth. I love to lave your sweet flavorful juices within my hot burning mouth. I begin to flow as well. I only wish my lover, you were there to catch my juices in your mouth. I love having my pussy sucked by you. Your tongue laving in my love hole, and caressing my love button on the upswing, then suckling my love button. But right now, we're making each other flow. I'm concentrating on pleasuring my lover.. Nonetheless in a public place. 

I continue to bathe and suckle your love button. You continue to flow your sweet flavorful juices onto my bathing tongue, and into my hot burning mouth. You start to shake, your body racks with pleasure, as well as mine, I can barely keep my mouth attached to your love mound, your protruding love button. You finally stop trembling, you regain your footing and I kiss your love place again.. Then slowly stand up and run my hands down your body, caressing every inch of you. I lave my tongue in your belly button. Then traveling my kisses up your torso.. To your breasts.. I lave each erect nipple, back and fourth. Making you whimper again. I love your little whimper, it's so sweet to hear. It pleases me to hear it, knowing that you, my lover have been satisfied. 

I take each nipple, one at a time into my mouth and slowly suckle them. Then give each erect nipple a kiss, twice, then travel my kisses further up your long torso, to the hollow between your collarbone, and lave my tongue there. I love that little place on you. Then I travel my kisses up your beautiful swan like neck. To reach your blush colored lips.. And kiss you. Then I hand you your shirt, and say to you.. You might want to put this back on.. Everyone can see your beautiful orbs. With that, you look down at yourself, and then at the adoring fans of us and completely go sixteen shades of red. And totally shriek.

After the shock of what has happened, I kiss you one more time on your sweet blush colored lips, parting them with my probing tongue, you letting our tongues dance together. You quietly put your shirt back on, and start to button it.. I take your hands and help you button your shirt.. Helping you, as I am partly responsible for having kinky sex with you, my lover in a crowded public place. When we are done, I kiss you one more time on your lips. And slowly bend down and pull your skirt down, and pick up your panties I threw over your purse, and hand them to you along with your purse and say, you might want to hide these too. Slyly grinning at you, I lean into you and whisper in your ear.. You, my love were great, thank you, for filling one of my fantasies. With that I take your hand in mine and as we walk out of the building, there's a thunderous applause from a small group of people gathered there, taking in our love making. You blush, then I lean up on my toes and give you a long tongue filled kiss.

We break the kiss and I place my hand in the air to hail a cab. The driver pulls to the curb and we get into the car. I sit as close to you as I can, with my hand resting on your knee.. And my head leaning on your shoulder. You tell me, "next time you do that to me.. I will have to put you over my knee."

I whisper to you, "with pleasure I hope?"



Goddess and Miss Jasmine Pt. 01



Goddess and Miss Jasmine Take Control - Part 01

Lily Sawyer seemed like your typical suburban wife. 42 years old and happily married she seemed like the stereotypical wife. Anyone looking at her would assume her sex life would consist of nothing more than Missionary sex with her husband once a week and the occasional affair with her shower head. And they'd be right to assume that. Lily Sawyer was like that. About as vanilla as they come. A white bread woman in a white bread world.

Lily had been an English teacher since graduating college and just a few years ago she'd been hired at a very prestigious private school. She was well paid (for a teacher), well respected, and had a very comfortable life overall.

But recently she's started having problems with one of her classes. Really it wasn't the whole class, just one problem student bringing the whole class down and causing chaos. Frankly Lily, or Mrs. Sawyer as her students called her, was quickly losing control over the class and with it the respect she'd worked so hard to build up. She really needed to find a way to bring her student, Jasmine, into line but she wasn't exactly sure how. She wasn't a typical student after all.

For one thing Jasmine was black. Lily would never admit it aloud and even in her own mind she felt bad for thinking it but Jasmine was black and that made her different. Dangerous. She might have felt differently if Jasmine had made an effort to suppress her baser instincts but the girl simply refused to integrate. The school was almost entirely white and even the few black girls acted white. It was the only way they could be accepted. Sure a few of them would act out in the beginning but they all quickly realized they'd be ostracized if they didn't start behaving like proper young ladies. In other words, if they didn't start acting white.

But Jasmine was different. She embraced her darkness and for some odd reason the other girls didn't hate her for it. In fact she was one of the most popular girls in school. In fact the exact opposite was happening. Instead of the white girls being a good influence on her she was corrupting some of them into being delinquents just like her. Jasmine seems to follow the idea that she's a strong independent black woman who shouldn't change for anyone and Lily had no idea how to deal with it. 

Lily had only met one other black girl in her life that seemed so hell bent on staying black rather then become more civilized...her old college roommate.

More than two decades earlier, Lily had entered college eager to learn and broaden her horizons. She already had her life planned out and she just needed to get through school and bide her time until it all fell into place. She was going to be a teacher. While in college she was going to find a rich, handsome, amazing man and she was going to marry him. He'd have a job making money and she'd be a teacher not for the money or any real passion but simply to avoid being a housewife like her mother.

She'd only had very rare encounters with people of color up to that point so she was very surprised when she walked into her assigned dorm room and found out she was supposed to live with a black girl. Lily was pretty intimidated as the girl was taller and clearly much stronger than she was. She also came to find out that her roommate, Sasha, was smarter, more popular, and just overall better than Lily was at just about everything.

For the first week or so of college Lily had looked up to Sasha as a model of a strong woman and was eager to prove herself a strong woman as well and step out of her roommate's shadow. One night about a week in to the semester Lily decided to tell her roommate that. She thought that Sasha would be flattered to hear that she looked up to her so much.

Instead though Sasha just smirked. Lily and Sasha's whole relationship changed that night as Sasha proved just how inferior Lily was. Sasha beat the crap out of her and left her a sobbing bruised heap on the floor. When she was done with that Sasha had pulled out a large strap-on dildo and proceeded to take Lily's virginity. She'd been saving herself for marriage.

Lily sobbed herself to sleep that night still on the floor. The next morning Lily walked to the campus security to report the rape but when she got there she chickened out. She knew they'd make her tell the whole story and she didn't think she could do that. Instead she walked to the housing department so ask for a new room but they asked for an explanation. Too scared to admit the truth Lily just told them that she and Sasha didn't get along. The housing department politely told her that there was nothing they could do and that she should just work things out with her roommate. After all they were all supposed to be adults now so she should learn to settle her own problems.

Defeated, Lily wasn't sure where else to turn. She thought about going to the police but knew that she'd face the same problem of not being able to tell them the truth. With nowhere else to turn, Lily returned to her room hoping to take a nap as she hadn't slept much the previous night for obvious reasons.

When she got back to her room though Sasha was waiting for her. Sasha explained in cold, blunt terms how their arrangement would work from then on. Sasha was in charge and Lily would do whatever she said. Lily would be responsible for all the cooking and cleaning and she would treat Sasha like the Queen she was. Lily was to refer to her as Miss Jacobs and Sasha would call Lily whatever the hell she wanted. 

Lily tried to object but when she did Sasha just laughed and asked if she really thought she had a choice in the matter. From then on Lily was essentially her roommate's slave. She tried to fight back at first, refused to do the things Miss Jacobs told her but every time she did Miss Jacobs would just give a disappointed sigh and proceed to punish Lily in some way. Normally that was a simple but severe spanking but she sometimes got more creative with her punishment.

Soon Lily fell in line and became an obedient slave just like her roommate wanted. She just couldn't take the punishments anymore so even though she hated it, Lily would do whatever Miss Jacobs told her to. Even horrid disgusting things that Lily could never imagine herself doing like worshiping her Black Mistress' feet.

By the end of her first semester Lily was kept naked anytime she was in the dorm room even with other people over. Miss Jacobs liked to share her slave with her friends and soon Lily was servicing the pussies and assholes of dozens of Black women and sucking off Black men. Miss Jacobs only loaned her out to one white woman in her whole college career and that was to a teacher to get Miss Jacobs an A in the class.

Lily thought about running away every day. But she had nowhere to go other than back home and she knew her parents would resent her for being a college dropout. She thought about transferring but unfortunately serving Miss Jacobs didn't leave her much time to study and her grades had suffered too much to transfer. In fact she barely stayed above failing out.

For 4 years Lily served Miss Jacobs and every single day of it she hated herself for being so weak. She wanted to go to the cops but she couldn't bring herself to admit how far she had sunk to being a slave for most of the Black population of the school.  

Finally in their last year of college Miss Jacobs agreed to release her; if she could raise $20,000 Miss Jacobs would allow Lily to buy her freedom. Having only one way of earning money though, Lily had to degrade and debase herself like never before to raise the money to free herself often just a few dollars at a time. Toward the end Lily was offering to pleasure just about anyone for even a couple of dollar.

It wasn't until her finals week in her last semester of college that Lily finally raised the money and was allowed to buy her freedom. She skipped her last final and didn't even go to graduation she was so happy being free that she went home to avoid any chance of Miss Jacobs forcing her back into slavery.

Lily spent the last 20 years trying to forget about the nightmare than was her college experience. She eventually started seeing a therapist and after a few years managed to move on with her life. Eventually she even achieved her life goals. She married a wonderful man and had a fantastic career explaining the intricacies of Shakespearian poetry to teenagers. She never told her husband about her college days. He knew something horrific had happened but was too polite to probe deeper.

While some people would look at her with pity for her purely vanilla love life Lily loved every second of it. She would never dream of introducing kink into her love life again as she knew it would bring back painful memories. She and her husband enjoyed Missionary sex every Friday night and she had the occasional affair with her shower head and she was perfectly content with that. 

But in the darkest corners of her mind, in a place she was even scared to venture, she had to admit that sometimes when she was playing with her shower head her mind would wander from the plot of whatever erotic novel she had read recently and she would picture Miss Jacobs face. Whenever it happened Lily would instantly get snapped back to reality and she came to dread those random intrusive thoughts.

Time had been kind to Lily. Even at the age of 42 she still got her share of second looks and backward glances. Sure she would admit she wasn't nearly as hot as she'd been in her youth but then again who could expect her to be. Over the years her double D cup chest had begun to sag and her rear end had expanded and her once athletic core had become soft. Bust she knew she was still attractive as evidenced by the attention she sometimes got from her male students. Lily got a secret thrill from occasionally showing off for them. She thought of it as a reward actually. If a class did exceptionally well on a test for instance she may go into class the next day wearing something low cut enough for her students to get a good look at her cleavage.

But of course that was as far as it went. She'd never even consider doing anything physical with a student and she'd even cut short the few clumsy attempts at flirting she'd experienced.

The years since college had eventually allowed Lily to whitewash her life back to what it had been before she met Miss Jacobs. She lived in an all-white neighborhood, taught at a predominantly white school and she generally avoided Black people whenever she could. But now once again she found herself in the position where she had to try to stand up to a powerful Black woman and she was afraid.

She'd tried to stand up to Jasmine earlier in the year. She'd tried correcting her in class and even raising her voice but Jasmine always ignored her or brushed her off with a casual smirk. She'd thought about giving her detention but the thought of being alone in a room with Jasmine after school in detention scared her so much she tore up the detention slip she'd started to write. She wasn't even really sure why she was so scared. Surely an 18 year old high school girl wouldn't try to hurt her or anything like that, would she?

Finally though Lily thought she had the perfect plan for getting Jasmine to fall in line. She called Jasmine's parents to set up a parent-teacher conference. Jasmine's dad answered the phone and explained that unfortunately he would be out of town for the next week but that his wife would be happy to meet with her on Friday after work.

Lily thought it was the perfect solution. After all she was sure Mr. and Mrs. Jones would be perfectly reasonable. She knew Jasmine was well off financially so she figured her parents would have at least some refinement. Surely they would disciple their daughter once she explained to them how their daughter behaved in class. And as an added bonus with the Jones' disciplining Jasmine Lily wouldn't have to. She'd be killing 2 birds with one stone by getting Jasmine to behave and not having to do the work to do it.

So that's where Lily Sawyer found herself one Friday evening, in her classroom grading papers and finding ways to entertain herself as she waited for Mrs. Jones to arrive at 6:30PM. She'd planned out a winning strategy that she was sure would work. First she'd meet with Jasmine and her mother at the same time but then she'd kick Jasmine out of the room as a show of domination and to establish that she's in charge. Once Jasmine was gone Lily would explain to Mrs. Jones exactly how her daughter behaved in class. Then she'd call Jasmine back in so she could watch Mrs. Jones yell at her. She figured after getting yelled at by her mother in front of her teacher Jasmine would be too cowed to misbehave in class or even meet Lily's eye.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and Lily looked up to see Jasmine saunter into the room and took a seat in front of her desk. She had knocked but she hadn't bothered to wait for perMission before entering. Just one more rude thing to add to the laundry list of complaints Lily had against her.

"My mom'll be here in a minute Mrs. Sawyer," Jasmine said as she gave her teacher a wink.

Lily was unsettled by that even more than if Jasmine had come in yelling and screaming. How could she be acting so casual about this? Didn't she know she was in big trouble? But wait...what if she was acting so casual because she knew she wouldn't be in trouble? What if her mother was one of those weak willed parents who never had the guts to disciple their children and let them do whatever they want? Or worse; what if she was the kind of parent who would take her daughter's word over that of her teacher's? 

As she thought all this Lily realized Jasmine was staring at her but she was so uneasy by this new line of thought that she quickly broke eye contact with her student and looked at the floor in front of her desk. She tried focusing on the papers in front of her but her mind was wandering and she wasn't really paying any attention to what was on the paper. 

Inexplicitly Lily suddenly found herself staring at Jasmine's long smooth legs. Her eyes slowly moved from Jasmine's sandal clad feet up her calves and thighs until they finally came to rest on the hem of Jasmine's short skirt. Lily found herself mesmerized by the sight and couldn't help but wonder what Jasmine was wearing underneath it. Just as Lily started to think of a way she could innocently sneak a peek up Jasmine's skirt to settle her idle curiosity there was another knock on her door. That snapped Lily out of her reverie and she quickly looked up to see who was there.

She froze in horror at who was standing in her doorway smirking at her. It had been more than 20 years since they last saw each other but Lily recognized her old roommate instantly. Judging from the smirk on her face, she recognized Lily as well.

"Why hello Lily. I hear you've been having problems with my daughter..." She began as she strode into the room.

Lily is too horrified to speak as her greatest nightmare strode smiling back into her life.

"What's wrong white girl? Cat got your tongue?" she laughed

"I...I...uh...I...I mean...hi Miss Jacobs..." Lily stammered remembering what would happen in her college days when she failed to greet her roommate properly.

SMACK

Sasha backhanded Lily across the face so hard that she fell out of her chair into a heap on the floor. Lily felt a small cut on her cheek where Sasha's diamond ring had hit her. 

Lily was vaguely aware of Jasmine laughing uncontrollably in the room but her whole mind was focused on Jasmine's mother. Sasha likewise seemed to be ignoring her daughter for the moment as she grinned hungrily down at her former slave.

"It's Mrs. Jones now twatlicker. Although...that might sound a bit weird coming from your mouth after all those years. Goddess will do for now. Don't forget it white girl."

"I...yes Goddess," Lily squeaked from the floor her voice several octaves higher than normal from fear.

"Good," She said as she took the seat Lily had just vacated and kicked off her heels, "Now come massage my feet as you tell me what my precious baby girl has been doing in your class." Lily had always hated feet ever since the first time this woman had first made her worship them but she feared her old roommate's punishments more than she hated her feet.

Lily hurried over and knelt at Goddess' feet and began massaging them and furiously racking her brain for what to say. She had a whole list of things she'd planned on telling Jasmine's mother just minutes before but now she knew better than to say them. Anything she said against Jasmine would surely result in severe punishment from her mother.

"She's been...she's...I mean to say that your daughter has been..." She tried to come up with something flattering to say about Jasmine but she resented the girl so much she couldn't think of anything. The fact that she was once again kneeling at the feet of the woman who'd made her college days a living Hell wasn't helping her think any clearer.

"She's been a perfect young lady, right? A model student? An inspiration to her classmates? And you're just too weak and stupid to know how to handle her which is why you reached out to my husband to try to get us to handle her? Is that about right twatlicker?" Goddess mocked the kneeling teacher.

Lily dropped her eyes to the floor and continued massaging her feet, "Yes Goddess," she said in a small voice almost too quiet to hear.

"And now you want to apologize to me for making me come all the way down here for no good reason, right?"

"Yes Goddess" Lily said lowering her head and resigning herself to the inevitable. She knew full well how Goddess expected her to apologize.

She lowered her head to Goddess' feet and began kissing them all over. Once she had kissed very square inch of both of Goddess' feet she went on, "And now you want to apologize to Jasmine for giving her such a hard time in class, right?"

Giving her a hard time, Lily thought, she's the one who's been making my life Hell. But instead she simply bowed her head and whispered "Yes Goddess."

Lily started to get up to move around her desk to get to Jasmine but Goddess held her down. With an evil glint in her eye she said, "Crawl."

Defeated, Lily crawled on her hands and knees around her desk and knelt at her student's feet and began removing her sandal. Then she bowed her head and began kissing Jasmine's feet all over just as she had her mother. Jasmine just giggled as she watched her teacher degrade herself like that. 

Once Lily was done kissing her student's feet, Goddess again spoke up, "Well Jasmine? Do you think she's sincere or do you think she needs to do a bit more to make amends for being such an arrogant bitch to you?"

Giggling, Jasmine responded "This bitch still needs to pay momma."

"I thought you'd say that," Goddess laughed. "Stand up and take off your panties bitch."

Lily slowly got to her feet terrified of what was coming next but knowing it'd be worse if she tried to fight back. Blushing deeply she reached up her skirt and slowly lowered her underwear to the floor. It wasn't until she felt how wet they were with her fingers that Lily realized how turned on she was. They were soaked with her juices.

Smirking, Jasmine said, "Now get over my lap you fat white bitch."

Humiliated beyond words Lily slowly lowered herself over her student's lap. Jasmine casually flipped up her teacher's skirt exposing her pale, ample behind.

SMACK SMACK SMACK

Jasmine started raining down slaps on her poor teacher's exposed ass quickly turning it red. Lily couldn't help it. She started screaming not caring who would hear and come running to see her in this situation. All semblance of dignity gone, Lily began begging, "OUCH! Please stop! Please Jasmine! Please I'll do anything!"




Goddess and Miss Jasmine Pt. 01



"Nuh uh. No way Lily," Jasmine replied sadistically reveling in the use of her teacher's first name. "You aren't in charge here anymore. You call me Miss Jasmine from now on. And you're gonna need to do a lot more begging than that..." She punctuated her words with a renewed round of painful smacks to Lily's already tortured behind. 

Lily began screaming incoherently incapable of even begging for mercy. Chuckling, Goddess casually crossed the room to pick up Lily's discarded panties and smiling at the moisture she felt there stuffed the cloth in Lily's mouth before wiping her hands clean in the teacher's hair.

To Lily it seemed like hours later when Jasmine finally seemed to get tired and pushed her teacher off her lap an into a pile of sobbing, bruised flesh. Lily didn't even try covering herself, her ass hurt so much that the cool tile floor actually felt soothing as long as she didn't put any pressure on the hard surface. What resulted was Lily in an awkward crab-walk pose with her abused behind lightly touching the cool floor.

Goddess walked over and pulled the soiled panties out of her mouth and dropped them on the teacher's desk. "Well slut? Why aren't you thanking my daughter for forgiving you for being such an uptight bitch?"

Tears streaming down her face Lily turned still in her crab-walk pose to face Jasmine. "Th...Thank you Miss Jasmine."

"Well done white girl. I think we're done here, right teach?" Jasmine finished looking down at her prey.

Lily doesn't dare respond to her student.

Jasmine looked to her mother for confirmation. "One more thing before we go actually..." Goddess corrected her daughter while opening her purse. "Ah, here it is..." she said pulling out a Black leather collar.

Lily paled at the sight of it remembering all the times she'd been forced to wear a similar collar in college. Goddess walked over to Lily and fastened the collar around her being sure to not trap any hair between the collar and her neck. Then she pulled a tang from her purse and Lily got a brief glance at it before Goddess attached it to the collar. This one was different form the one she wore in college. Instead of "Property of Miss Jacobs" this one said "Property of Miss Jasmine."

With that, Goddess and Miss Jasmine got up and began walking out. "Come along white bitch or am I going to have to put you on a leash as well?"

Lily slowly got to her feet allowing her dress to fall back into place and protect her modesty. She cast one brief look back at her desk to see her soiled panties lying on top for all the world to see. She knew if anyone came into the classroom over the weekend they would immediately see them and know what a filthy slut the proper Mrs. Sawyer had become. With that, Lily turned to follow her new Owners out the door and into her new life.



Goddess and Miss Jasmine Pt. 02



Lily followed her new Owners out of the school to the parking lot. Luckily she made the trip without anyone seeing her but she hesitated when she saw someone standing by the only car in the parking lot other than her own. It obviously belonged to Goddess. It would have been obvious even if the parking lot wasn't empty. It was a luxurious Black Lincoln. The kind of car that costs more than Lily made in 5 years.

Lily's new Owners didn't even seem to notice that their slave had stopped following them as they approached the car. The person standing by the car greeted them with a bow and opened the door for them. Lily realized that this must be the Jones' chauffeur and hurried to catch up so they wouldn't have to wait for her.

Goddess and Miss Jasmine both slide into the back seat of the car but when Lily approached to get in as well the chauffer stopped her and popped the trunk instead. "Oh no you stupid twatlicker, you ride in the trunk." Goddess mocked as she closed the door.

Lily dropped her eyes to the ground but after the humiliation in the classroom the thought of riding in the trunk of a car wasn't so bad. She moved to the back of the car and climbed in without protest. The trunk closed over her and Lily spent the next several minutes being jostled around in the dark as the car drove her Owners home. Her bumpy ride finally came to an end and she could hear Goddess and Miss Jasmine get out of the car and walk away. A few minutes later the trunk opened and Lily was blinded by the sudden brightness as someone pulled her out of the trunk.

Lily blinked until she was able to see again and got her first well-lit look at the chauffer. She was absolutely beautiful. The chauffer had flawless pale skin and beautiful dark hair held up in a tight bun. She was wearing a dark pantsuit but Lily could tell that she was very athletic and slim underneath it. She could only imagine what other uses her Owners might have for this woman when she wasn't busy driving.

Lily looked around but her Owners were nowhere to be seen. She and the chauffer were standing outside a large house; she assumed the Jones' house. Actually, Lily thought, calling it a house is a bit of an insult. It's more like a mansion. Or an old plantation house! That would be just like Goddess's sense of humor to live in an old slave manor surrounded by her obedient white slaves.

The chauffer led Lily around the side of the house to a small secluded door. The slave door Lily realized. They entered and Lily found herself in a cramped little room with 2 sets of triple stacked bunks. Without being told, Lily understood that these must be the slave quarters where Goddess keeps all her white girls.

That's when a terrifying new thought entered Lily's mind. Does Goddess expect ME to live here? Am I going to be her live in slave or will she let me go. She'll have to let me go, right? I have a husband at home and he'll be wondering where I am if I don't come home. What would he do? How long would he wait before calling the cops to report her missing? Would the police even know where to start looking? The parent teacher conference hadn't been officially scheduled through the school or anything but surely I must have mentioned I was meeting with Mrs. Jones to someone, right? And surely they would tell the cops that Mrs. Jones was the last one to see me before I disappeared so surely they'll come looking for me here, right?

Lily realized she'd left her cell phone in her purse on the desk back in her classroom so she had no way of calling the police or her husband or anyone else. Maybe I can convince Goddess to let me call my husband. Maybe I could even give him the message so he'll know I'm in danger. But do I want that? If the cops get involved then the whole story will get out. Everyone will know I was her slave all through college and that I let a student spank my bare bottom in my own classroom. Maybe it would be better to just play this out and wait for them to let me go. I know it'll be horrible serving them but surely they won't want to keep me around for long. Especially if they have more slaves that look like that chauffer...

But wait, if I do just play this out then my husband will probably get the cops involved before too long and the whole thing will come out anyway. I can't let that happen. I'll have to convince Goddess to let me call him and let him know I'm OK. I'll make up some excuse about why I can't come home tonight or something...

All these thought bounced around Lily's head for a few minutes before she came back to reality and realized that the chauffer was standing in front of her smirking at the dazed look on her face she sometimes got when she was thinking. Lily immediately started asking the chauffer questions about what was going to happen to her and if she could call her husband and what she was expected to do for the Jones's and a million other things but unfortunately the chauffer just chuckled and said that all those things are up to the Mistresses to decide.

The chauffer went on to inform Lily that she was supposed to be getting her ready and that the Mistresses wouldn't tolerate delays. She told Lily to strip which she did except for the collar Goddess had put on her and then she led Lilly into a small bathroom. She waxed all the hair below Lily's eyebrows off and then scrubbed her down thoroughly. By the time the chauffer was done with her, Lily's whole body was pink except for her bottom which was red and starting to turn purple from bruising. 

Once all that was done, the chauffer led Lily out of the slave quarters and into the main house telling her that they were to report to the Mistresses. As they walked, the chauffer made a few half-hearted attempts to comfort Lily telling her that she might not be kept naked all the time if the Mistresses decide she's earned some clothes. But her words did nothing to cheer Lily up. 

Before long, they passed yet another one of Goddess' slaves. A young white girl in a skimpy French maid outfit. The maid made eye contact but then immediately looked down again as they passed. Shortly after passing the maid, the chauffer led Lily through a large kitchen where they found 2 more white slaves. These two appeared to be mother and daughter and they were both naked. Lily noticed that they both had the word "cook" tattooed right above their pussies. 

Lily stopped and stared at that. The chauffer noticed Lily's gaze and chuckled again. "Oh yeah, we all have those," She said pulling down the front of her pants to reveal the word "driver" tattooed on her. "I'm sure you'll get one soon as well. Now we should hurry though. You don't want to keep the Mistresses waiting."

They proceeded through the kitchen and into a large dining room where Goddess and Miss Jasmine were eating. The chauffer's job complete, she bowed to the superior Black women and left the room leaving Lily alone with them. Lily started to ask her Owners if she could call her husband but the first sound she made earned her a withering glare from both women. The message was clear: "wait until we're done."

Lily stood by silently waiting for them to finish their meals. She couldn't see what was in their bowls but it smelled delicious and she found herself wishing she had some herself. She hadn't eaten anything since a small salad at lunch and she was getting quite hungry. Lily heard her stomach rumble and was afraid that her Owners would hear but neither of them looked up from their meals so she thought she was safe.

When they had finally finished their meals, Miss Jasmine turned to her and said, "OK white slut, now you may speak."

Lily gulped, stealing herself to say something that she knew could easily earn her further punishment if her Owners didn't agree. "Mi...Miss Jasmine, may I...I mean...may this little white slut," She corrected herself remembering the proper speech patterns Goddess had taught her back in college, "call its husband? He'll be wondering where it is and it doesn't want him to worry..."

"Hmm," Miss Jasmine considered, "And just what would my little white slut tell its husband?"

Lily hadn't really thought that far ahead yet and wasn't sure what she might be able to tell him so he wouldn't worry or think anything was wrong. Without knowing what to say, Lily knew better than to open her mouth so she stayed silent.

"Well I'm in a good mood. I'll give you the chance to earn a brief phone call..."

"Oh thank you Miss Jasmine, I..." but Miss Jasmine cut her off by snapping her fingers twice. It was obviously a signal to the other slaves as one of the cooks, the daughter, ran in almost immediately.

"Bring a can of wet dog food and a bowl for this slut." Miss Jasmine told her and the girl hurried to obey. Less than a minute later she returned with a bowl full of wet dog food which she sat on the floor near Miss Jasmine.

"Finish your food and I'll allow you a short phone call," Miss Jasmine said as she pulled out her cell phone and began a video recording.

Seeing no other option, Lily sank to her hands and knees and crawled to her food bowl. She had trouble eating the dog food without getting her hair in it and once she took a few bites she had trouble keeping it down. But eventually she finished the whole bowl of food and look up hopefully at her student only to see Miss Jasmine rocking with laughter and still recording on her phone.

Once Miss Jasmine finished laughing at the pathetic sight of her teacher naked on all fours eating dog food out of a bowl she eventually said, "OK slut I guess you earned this...you have 1 minute and if you say anything you shouldn't I'll make the spanking earlier look like a walk in the park."

"Yes Miss Jasmine. Thank you." Lily replied just grateful that her Owner was going to let her make a call.

"You are to tell him that you went for drinks after work and ran into an old friend from college and that you'll be staying the night with them. DO NOT say him or her. I want him to worry a little bit after all."

Bowing her head and knowing it was the best deal she was likely to get, Lily took the phone and dialed her home number. The machine picked up and Lily left a message just as she was instructed to. As she ended the call, Lily was fully aware that she had signed up for at least one night living in the slave quarters.

Goddess snapped her fingers 3 times and the chauffer soon appeared. Apparently the number of snaps indicated which slave the Owners wanted Lily realized. "We're done with this one for the night. Take it to its bunk and tie it down. We don't want it trying to escape in the night," She instructed the chauffer.

"Very good Mistress," the chauffer replied and led Lily back through the house to the slave quarters. Lily allowed the chauffer to tie her arms and legs to the corners of one of the bottom bunks without protest knowing that fighting her would accomplish nothing.

It wasn't until she was fully secured that Lily realized that her face was still covered in wet dog food and now that she was tied down she couldn't wipe her own face. Lily begged the chauffer to clean her face but the chauffer just chuckled and told her that Mistress hadn't ordered her to do that. With that the chauffer walked out flipping off the lights and Leaving Lily alone in the dark.

An hour or so later the lights flicked back on as the other slaves filed into the quarters and prepared for bed. Lilly asked each and every one of them to please clean her face but every one of them just laughed at her and kept doing whatever they were doing. Even among the slaves, Lily was at the bottom of the totem pole and the other delighted in her discomfort.



Goddess at the Bar



The beeping began, suddenly, and without remorse. Jan reached over, slapped the off button on her alarm, and lay for a moment debating the merits of rising out of bed. Deciding that waking up would be more productive, she slid out of bed, stood, and walked to the bathroom to take a leak.

Emptied, she walked to the mirror and surveyed herself. She rubbed her eyes for a moment, which were dry from having slept with her contacts in. Her hair was a mess, knotted and ratty, and the extra weight she had been putting on recently was beginning to show in her breasts.

'Damn, she thought, I'll have to go run that off eventually.'

She walked over to the shower and flicked the handle to the on position, letting the water heat up first. As she waited, she massaged her neck and shoulders. Knots released in pulses of pleasure as her firm grip eased its way around the muscles.

Once steam was rising above the glass wall, she entered the shower and commenced with a good soaking. She shampooed and conditioned her hair, and soaped her body up. The soap slipped away from her body, running in rivulets all the way down her legs into the drain. Having finished the washing phase of her morning shower, she then reached up and removed her custom shower faucet.

Most people had faucets with five settings, but hers was different. It was fashioned in the shape of a large penis, about eight inches long, and had holes all along the tip where water could spray out of. 

She squatted down, put her arms behind her back, and gently inserted the faucet/dildo in her rear. Slowly, her anal cavity began to fill up with water, and she began to moan with pleasure. She reached down and grabbed a hold of one of the rings piercing her nipples and began tugging insistently on it as she reveled in the wondrous feeling of the vibrating faucet.

Her moment was approaching, and she brought her hand to her mouth to spit on it. Reaching down, she grasped the only thing on her body that distinguished her from the perfect woman most men pictured her as

Roughly, she began rhythmically sliding her hand over a thick 8 inch cock. As she sped up, her momentum made her body rock back and forth on her heels, which in turn caused the dildo in her ass to slide in and out. It wasn't long before she exploded all over the shower wall, jet after jet splashing on the tile, thick, ropy strings of cum gliding down to pile on the floor.

With the last jet and moan, she removed the faucet from her rectum, but remained squatting as the water rushed out of her hole. Once she was empty, she stood and replaced the dildo in its holder, then knelt down on hands and knees on the floor. Slowly and meticulously, she began to lick her cum off the ground until the area was spotless. 

Satisfied with her cleaning job, she turned the shower off, toweled herself, and walked into the kitchen, still naked. Around her house, she never wore clothes. She made herself some breakfast, watched the news, did laundry, masturbated again, and began cleaning her house. 

It was four o'clock in the afternoon before she decided to head out and hit the bar. First however, she would need to jack off. She headed into the bathroom again, cursing her bad luck. 

She remembered with perfect clarity the day she had turned eighteen. The doctors had diagnosed her with singularly rare condition. She produced semen, in large amounts, in a stunningly short amount of time. In effect, her spunk production was hyperactive. Her options were either to relieve herself frequently, or have an invasive surgery that would leave her without the ability to produce any at all.

From there, she had learned to accept her "little sessions", as her parents had called them, with mechanical regularity. While all the other boys at school had to hide their porn and masturbation, her parents supplied her magazines and videos, making sure she jacked off on a regular basis.

With all the attention to her cock, it was no giant leap that she had grown curious. It had started with her simply tasting her cum after she had finished servicing herself. This satisfied her for a while, until she began to wonder what it would be like to taste someone else's. In a very small amount of time, she was walking around the house in her mother's lingerie while her parents weren't home.

Next, she had began interacting with the students at her school. She was a senior, and at the time a very popular kid, so it had been difficult to keep her exploits hidden. She had found the nerds and freaks, asked them to meet her in the showers, or at the park late at night. Her parents assumed she had a girlfriend, but it was she who was the girl. 

At college, she had devoted more time to sexual experience than collegiate experience, and eventually dropped out. From there, she had joined the porn industry, making low budget movies until she had compiled enough cash to pay for hormone pills and plastic surgery to adjust a few things about herself. 

Then one day she had gotten a telephone call from a major clothing chain. Apparently, some higher-ups had been watching her movies and wanted her to model for their clothes. With joy, she had left her humiliating pornography career behind to take on the world of runways. But on weekends, when she had nothing to do, there was no denying her sexual desires. So she allowed herself certain...indiscretions. 

Finished with her ministrations, and shaking her head to clear it of all the nostalgia, she walked into a huge closet adjoining her bedroom. She spent some time looking around until she settled on a low cut black bra, and flimsy, short, very tight beige spaghetti strap top, a plain white miniskirt with a cut up the left side all the way to the top of her hip, white translucent thigh high stockings with lace and filigree on the top, and some white six inch stiletto heels.

She put on her selection, examined herself in the mirror, took off her 38 DD bra, and put the top back on. You could clearly see the outline of the rings piercing her nipples, as well as the nipples themselves. She then slid into a white gaff and tucked her penis back up behind her so that her butt cheeks could hold it out of sight.

Once this was done, she put on some silver rings, never gold, a necklace, and large hooped earrings. She leaned over to slip an anklet around her ankle, then sat down in a chair in front of her mirror. 

Carefully, she applied mascara, eye shadow, some bronzer, and light brown lipstick. The effect of all of this made her look beautiful, and with the help of her plastic surgery to accentuate her cheeks, hips, and tits, she looked stunning.

She grabbed a beige hand bag, threw in her wallet and phone, and went to her garage. Jumping in the car, she set the radio to some heavy metal, and backed her Jetta out of the garage. Speeding off down the street, her neighbor watering his yard felt his penis go rigid in his jeans.

She went to her favorite bar, sat down on a stool, crossed her legs, and ordered something strong. Several men came up to her to hit on her, but none of them really appealed to her taste.

Eventually, she went to the dance floor and started dancing around. Guys left their girls to go grind on her, and almost instantly she was surrounded by men moving against her.

She moved back, and started sliding her body up and down the men who were around her. As the heat increased and the bodies packed tighter, she could feel herself getting aroused. By now, it was getting late, and the only people left were the professional drunks, a couple of college kids off in some booths, and those dancing with her on the floor. The dancing men were still packing in tight around her. She could see and feel cocks stretching the fabric of pants all around her

With her arousal growing, she decided to be bold tonight. She reached behind her to the man dancing there, and slid her hand in his pants to grip his member. It was hard and thick, and she squeezed it before giving it a few pumps, then moving on to the next person dancing around her. After she had gone around doing this, she decided it was time to really start having some fun.

She reached up to her straps and slid them over her shoulders so that her top fell down to hang around her waist. Instantly, she felt several hands gripping her tits, pulling the rings, pinching the nipples. She reached out and undid the zipper of the man in front of her, and out sprang an average sized cock. She dropped to her knees, and as the men kept dancing, they all unzipped their pants, freeing a dozen dicks from their prisons. 

She leaned forward, and took the rigid cock in her mouth. She sucked the head a couple of times, then reached over to her right and left and commenced hand jobs on two more men. She adjusted her angle of entry, and then all at once she deep-throated the man, let his dick rest in he throat, swallowed, and pulled back out, slowly, spiraling her mouth around his member. The man gasped, and she throated him again, but instead of waiting, she ran her mouth back up to the tip, and started fucking him with her mouth. 

She never gagged, simply took it all in, then let it all out. After about a minute of this, she turned to the next offered dick, and began sucking. She continued in fashion, sucking, deep-throating, tea-bagging, and giving hand jobs for a long time, trying to service as many men as she could. Finally, her group of horny admirers couldn't take it anymore, and one by one, they began blowing their wads. She closed her eyes and smiled as she felt cum splash against her face, tangle in her hair, and land on her clothes. As one man would explode and empty, the next man would too. She gathered as much as she could in her mouth, enjoying the taste of the eclectic elixir. She swirled it in her mouth for a moment before drinking it. Once they had all finished, she slowly stood, dropped her skirt, and ripped off her gaff.

"So," she said "Who's gonna blow me?"

Her cock was swaying, at full attention, and the men around her stood goggle-eyed, partly in envy, partly in shock, a few in disgust. The moment continued, and Jan began to worry that she had made the wrong decision about this crowd. Finally, one man shrugged, knelt down, and slowly started kissing her head. A few men shook their heads and walked away, but the rest stayed, and slowly, their hands drifted back down to their now hard again dicks. 

The man kneeling in front of her was now putting as much of her in him as he could and pumping the rest with his hand.

Jan reached out, and pushed him backward until he was laying on his back, never breaking contact with his mouth. She swiveled on the spot, and began to return the favor with a sixty-nine. She bobbed her head a few times, then came back up.

"Hey boys," she said "The back end is open as well." She winked as she said this, and wiggled her ass around. A man moved in behind her, and knelt down, before savagely shoving his cock into her ass. He began sliding in and out immediately. Jan was moaning onto the cock in her mouth, and shaking from the fucking and sucking going on. She came back up again. 

"This young man is open too," she said, a devilish grin on her face.

Another guy came forward, knelt down, and brutally entered the man lying on the ground. He started, yelped, and squirmed, but Jan held him in place, and it wasn't long before he too was moaning. They continued, coming closer to climaxing every second. The men around her started erupting, aiming again for her, splashing their cum all over her body. She reveled in the feeling, her own hole being filled while simultaneously being sucked off.

The man fucking her ass exploded, emptying his penis and filling her up much like the faucet had earlier that day. He pulled out, and the cum dribbled out onto the face of the man sucking on her. The man fucking the guy beneath her came, and his orgasm sent the boy over the edge. He came in Jan's mouth, and she drank it greedily. Once he was dry and clean, she bent down and licked the cum out of his ravaged ass hole.

Feeling her own orgasm approaching, she commanded the boy sucking her "Don't swallow any of it, leave it all in your mouth."

She came in gallons, pulling out until just the very tip of her dick was in his mouth. Obediently, he didn't swallow any. She turned around again, and licked the dribbled cum off his face, then lay on the ground beside him. 

"Straddle my stomach, and drip my cum into my mouth."

He did as he was told, straddling her. He leaned forward until he was on his hands, looked into Jan's eyes. She smiled at him, then opened her mouth.

There Jan lay, cum clotting her hair together, dried and dripping from her face, her chest, her back and stomach, her ass, her legs. And here was a man, leaning forward over her, staring into her eyes, who opened his mouth slightly, and let a long runnel of cum ooze out of his mouth to flow into hers. 

Of all the spunk in the world, she loved hers the most, and she gobbled it up, consuming every last drop he poured into her mouth. When he had finished, she pulled him in for a passionate kiss, that ended with her sweeping his mouth with her tongue, looking for any excess cum. She pulled away.

"What's your name?"

"Nathan."

"Want to come back to my house for a drink?" asked the cum-soaked beauty with the beautiful dick.



Goddess Cana in Training



I met Cana Wilmore on a dating site and she invited me over after we had talked for a month. She was the only one I was talking to this young, she is 26. When I got there her Aunt Faye opened the door. Faye said, "Cana had to run to the store but you are welcome to come in and wait if. And please call me Ms. McAdams especially since my husband is out of town until next week." 

Faye also said, "I will only accept yes ma'am and no ma'am." Wow she was stern and seemingly perfect but her body was not being shown off much because she had a swim dress over what I was guessing was her bathing suit. She also had on little beige ankle boots and a dark red manicure on her fingernails.

As we waited she told me that I might enjoy a tour of the house. "Yes m'am I said." I would never have guessed she is seventy four. She is so hot, smelled so good and had such a sexy voice. "You picked a good day because the pool guy is not here.", she said. 

I remarked to her "The pool is really nice." And she said, "Well my husband is very good to me if it were not for the fact that he is so seldom in town and seems to be going through a phase of enjoying forty year old women." 

"You sit!", she commanded, "while I go fix myself a margarita." So I waited on the lounge chair by the pool and my heart was beating so fast. I had not expected any of this. I got a text from Cana and it said, "Sorry I am running late.", that was all it said. My hands were too unsteady to text her back so I just decided not to.

I remarked to Faye sort of matter of factly that, "The garden and pool are really wonderful." She then said, "I want to interview a new gardener." With those sexy brown eyes, blue eyeliner and red lipstick she peered at me and said, "Are you interested?" Cana must not have told her that I was running my own business and was doing very well at it but I was determined not to tell Ms. McAdams no about anything because it might ruin whatever this was leading to. 

Then Faye said, "Well, I think maybe it would be a good idea if I interview you but let me show you the greenhouse first. I will need you to make sure that all of these plants stay alive. My husband will not be happy any other way."

Then she said, "It will be a live in job and there is a bed room attached to the greenhouse and it has everything you will need. It has a bathroom, air conditioning and a computer. I have been sort of lonely and staying back here so I put that picture of Lucas on the wall. Let me take it down in case we should decide that you will have the gardening job to assist him." 

Now she said, "Let me make myself comfortable," and she kicked off her shoes. At the sight of her perfect feet and lavender pedicure I was so hard, so aroused and blushing. She seemed to find humor in that. She sat on the bed and said, "You should remain standing. And there will be a one-hundred dollar interview fee that I will bill you for only if you get the job, do you understand?" "Yes ma'am", I said, "That seems fair Ms. McAdams." 

Faye said, "Let us start with making sure you are trainable. Please get on your knees and kiss my feet." So I was flat on my stomach and lovingly sucking on her toe when she screamed at me, "Enough! I know you would like to see all of me and I do not like you looking up my dress. I will be saving myself for Lucas when he is here tomorrow. And if my husband is not home soon Lucas may have to train you in dealing with the plants, do you understand?"

"Yes ma'am Ms McAdams." I replied.

Then Faye looked me in the eyes once again and said, "Ok, if you think you can handle this job then I will charge you for this interview and you can begin settling into your new home. As Cana's Aunt I do not approve of her dating any of the help so you had better get that idea out of your mind also. As my servant you will practice celibacy and if you do well you may get to see my feet again." She then put her boots back on. She handed me her business card and said "You may contact me by email which I will reply to when it is convenient for me but you may only use that email if it is a very important work related question. Lucas will also set up your email on the pc tomorrow when he gets here in the morning." 

"There are also pictures of me on the pc if you get bored between now and tomorrow and need to entertain yourself. Please start getting used to worshipping me.", she commanded as she pointed to the pc with one finger of her perfectly manicured nails. 

She walked out and slammed the door. I realized that from my window I could see her sunning by the pool. Cana came out and then went back in. I was afraid it might cause trouble but I needed to get a closer look at this Goddess. So I left my quarters, went through the greenhouse and out to the pool area. Faye had her eyes closed and was fingering her self and did not notice me sitting next to her. Finally she noticed me and said, "You should not have left your quarters without my permission. I will need to start training you tonight. My friend Dee will be very upset if she does not get her night with Lucas but you have forced my hand on this. Dee and Lucas will have to come out tonight and we will need to begin training you right away. Obviously you do not know how to be a good submissive. It is very selfish of you to want to see me naked out here and Lucas is not going to be happy with this. Now go back to your quarters."

I went back to the back room and began surfing the net for a while. Before I knew it darkness had fallen and not long after that Lucas, Dee and Faye were knocking on my door. Faye was the first to speak. "Do not get up from the computer chair. Lucas will bind you up and roll you into the corner. I am going to need you to watch as Dee and I allow Lucas to worship our bodies." 

Lucas slowly began to remove Faye's clothing and passionately gave her oral. She was very orgasmically happy. Dee began to suck on Faye's toes. I had a gag in my mouth so I could not say anything. Then Lucas and Dee traded and Lucas began on Faye's toes in a very loving and gentle way, it was very obvious how strongly he felt for her and he understood very much how much she loved his cock. Dee began on Faye's body. then Dee came over to me and unzipped my pants. She had my cock in her hand and she told me that she might let me enjoy her later. Lucas was now making love to Faye but first he slowly sucker her perfect nipples. Then he was on top of her giving her everything he had which was quite a bit. He was balls deep into her and she loved it. Dee locked up my cock and went back to the bed to wait for her turn with Lucas. While Lucas was still hard he pulled out of Faye and began riding Dee for a while. 

Faye was running her hands all over Lucas knowing that soon he would cum in her and this would all be over for a while. Lucas spent nine minutes on dee and then he pulled out and began riding Faye. Dee started using her vibrator and Lucas rode Faye for ten minutes before they both had a major climax together. While Lucas had some afterglow left he began to give Dee passionate oral sex and kept his hands on Faye's pussy. Faye and lucas left and Dee stayed with me. 

Dee rolled her eyes and said, "I really do not want to do this but I will untie you and let you worship my feet and make love to me. Only because of how frustrated I still am" Dee untied me and then commanded me, "Get on your knees and beg for my body!" 

I was really hard for her and she told me next time I would be required to have a cock ring. For now she gave me a condom since I was new to this seen and had not been tested as far as they knew. I worshipped her feet and then mounted her. In a sort of moan she said, "You do not feel as good as Lucas had but you might be able to make me cum if you try really hard. I kind of like how you are throbbing so much." So I did as instructed and said, "Yes ma'am Ms. Dee." Soon we were over as my sperm rushed into the condom. 

"Clive," she told me, "Why don't you come and have a drink with us in the main house. Goddess Faye is going to be very hard on you but I will try to make some of this a bit easier on you. I do admire a man who is a good submissive and if it does not work out with Goddess Faye I might take you as a submissive." With that she winked at me. And I said "Yes ma'am Ms. dee." We dressed and went into the main house. Lucas was dressed and Goddess Faye had on a robe and slippers that were boot like ankle high. Goddess Dee kept the conversation going because things had gotten really quiet when I walked in. Goddess Cana Wilmore walked in with her new man. I could tell she did not want to admit to knowing me. She introduced Juan to Goddess Faye. 

Cana said, "Juan this is my Aunt Faye." Goddess Faye looked at him with her sparkling brown eyes and slightly overdone blue eye liner that only she could pull off and she smiled. You could see what effect she had on any man. That got Goddess Cana a little uneasy it seemed. Then Cana said, "Juan this is my Aunt Faye's friend Ms. Dee and her friend Lucas, he is helping Faye with the garden and the pool. He lives next door. Juan and lucas shook hands. The conversation was quite fake for a while then Goddess Cana told Faye that her and Juan were going to retire to her room for a while upstairs. Goddess Cana looked at Dee and asked her if she could show them how to use the new Tivo she had just purchased off of her Amazon wish list. "Oh sure honey", said Dee as she relished maybe being alone with Juan for a while. 

Now it was just myself, Goddess Faye. and Lucas. Goddess Faye told Lucas to go upstairs and check on her emails. "You know", Faye told me, "I would like to go back to the guest room with you and look up some things on the computer. Why don't you follow me." So once again I was in the chambers with the Goddess. She ordered with her sexy and stern voice, "Get on your knees at my feet." I kissed her slippers and then she commanded me to her attention. "I need Lucas very much but still he leaves me frustrated sometimes and I know he enjoys being with Cana and Dee. So I want you to worship my feet and give me the best oral sex that you are capable of. Finally she was giving me the chance to get my hands all over her perfect, sexy and nude body. For the first time I was also alone with her and allowed to suck on her nipples and do everything else I had only dreamed of so far.



Goddess Ch. 02



My real name is Carlos Carozzi. The previous 'Goddess' chapter, as well as those following now, were intended to be published as a book. I no longer have enough life on me to finish this work, so I decided to post it here. An outline of the ending will be added to the last chapter. If you want to contact me direct you can do so e-mailing the address in my profile

II

It was hard to believe that just one week had passed and my life had moved, without transition, from the reassuring knowledge of a pre-determined routine to the deepest unmitigated chaos. All I wanted to do was to find Camille and experience again all those overwhelming feelings of touching and being touched, of unlimited passion running through my entire body. For the fleeting ninety minutes or so that I spent in her arms I felt more alive than ever before. So, day after day I continued trying to find her, using every minute of my spare time and every second that I could steal from my work. My new chaotic existence meant that my life shifted from being ruled by my intellect and beliefs to being dominated by emotions. For the first time in my memory I didn't go to church that Sunday. Instead I spent the entire day following even the slightest trail that could lead me to her but they only lead me to nowhere and despair. 

It was just past seven o'clock when I arrived home, carrying with me a pizza for dinner and my frustration for dessert when the phone rang. I jumped, moving faster than I ever thought I could move. 'Hello'. 'You could have let your kids know that you were not going to come today to take them out as you promised. They were waiting for you until almost midday.' Pat was furious. She didn't care about me, but she was more protective of her children than a crocodile would be of her eggs. 'I'm sorry, I had to work and I didn't have a chance to call but...' I was talking to a dead phone. She had hung up on me. I decided to switch my answering machine on, eat my pizza and go to bed to face the never ending night

Each night I was at the same time afraid of going to sleep and looking forward to the dreams to come. Camille's presence was growing night by night rather than diminishing. She had awakened in me a passion that I did not know existed or I would have never allowed myself to experience. Life for me had turned to a constant reminder of desire far beyond what I could have ever imagined. As I was drifting into my sleep I heard the phone ring and the voice of Father Patrick leaving a message 'I didn't see you at church today and I'm worried. Your eternal soul is in danger, please, please call me at any time of the day or night'. I didn't lift the receiver to answer.

When the morning finally arrived I got up as tired as I was when I went to bed. I made myself a strong coffee and headed for work. The bus moved through the morning traffic carrying a full load of people like me. Some looked as if they were trying to push through the consequences of the excesses of the weekend, others seemed to be trying to reconcile themselves with going to the same routine of a dead end job, none of them were caring for anything beyond themselves. 

Maureen was waiting for me in the foyer. 'Franco, how far do you have to go on that feature article that you are working on?' I didn't expect the question, perhaps because I thought that it would be possible for me to procrastinate for ever, giving me more time to keep going on with my search. 'Why did you ask that?' 'I heard John saying that it would be good to have it ready for print by Wednesday's editorial meeting as the announcement of the new taxation initiatives has been postponed for a day.' Maureen obviously knew that I was still a long way from finishing it. 'I'll have it ready by tomorrow morning.' She looked at me and silently nodded.

Shit! I think that John is only interested in getting me. It was always difficult to give him all the adulation and subservience that he demanded. Now, after Camille entered into my life that is just outright impossible. All right, I will probably have to work through the night and the best part of tomorrow to finish it!

I sat at my computer and I started working at a furious pace. I was lucky that Pompous John had decided to take the day off. Lunchtime came and went and I continued typing as fast as when I started. I focused on my work and noting else mattered, as I used to do in my early days, when being a journalist was fun and excitement. The words kept flying with a life of their own.

Eat my dust Pompous Shithead! You would not be able to go past the first paragraph in the time that I will take me to finish the entire article. At this rate I will not have to work on it tomorrow, I'll have it finished well before midnight. I'm good! Franco, where is your humility? I don't have to be humble, I'm good, I know it and so do the people who work with me so, to hell with humility!

Without realising it I was riding on an exhilarating high where time did not exist. I did hear the cleaners vacuuming around me, emptying my paper basket but I didn't tie it up with me being the last one in the office. I didn't notice the silence that followed the humming of the people working around, only my work. The words I was writing were going to convey a meaning to the readers, but to me they were linking to each other with the music of a living language. I felt as if I was Mozart and Shakespeare rolled up into one.

As I put the final stop on an article so lengthy that would have to appear as a serialised piece I looked at my watch. I had worked for more than fourteen hours without stopping. I had not even gone to the toilet, as my bladder was forcefully reminding me. I lifted myself from my chair with a long awaited stretch of my back and I went to the Gents. 

When I came out I felt hungry and thirsty. Only a few lights were left on all night and the deserted office had the eerie feeling of the enchanted forests in the tales of my childhood. I turned the corner to go back to pick up my jacket and I noticed that all the lights were off except those directly over my desk and standing under the lights, facing me was Camille. 

Am I dreaming, or perhaps hallucinating? She is wearing the same dress she had during our first encounter. Her eyes are fixed on mine, delving into the deepest parts of my mind and my soul, she sees everything. She sees what I am, what I have always pretended to be and even what I have failed to become because of my lack of courage. She knows all my secrets, all my fears, all my hopes, all my despairs.

I walked towards her as if in a trance. As I got closer the insinuation of a smile started growing in her face. I kept walking until my body brushed hers. Without a word she put her arms around my neck and kissed me like she did the first time. 

Is this really happening? I have waited for so long to hold you in my arms again, to feel your skin again, so I could awaken the sex starved being within me. I want you and I want you to take me by your hand and help me explore the universe that you let me have just a glimpse of last time. 

'Yes Franco, I do exist, this is not another of your dreams. I am flesh, bones, skin and a mind and desires, all coming together to meet you and your secret wants'.

Perhaps Father Patrick was right, she must be the devil. How can she know so much about me, even my thoughts! I want her, yet she terrifies me.

'Who are you Camille?' She did not answer. She was too busy removing the belt from my trousers. She made me turn around and tied my hands tight behind me with my own belt. She then took my trousers and my briefs off, making me lift one foot at the time and pushing them over my shoes. My penis was unveiled in its full erection. 'Who are you Camille?' 'I will tell you a bit more about myself tonight, after we finished, now bend over your desk'. I felt very insecure, wearing only my shirt, my shoes and socks and with my hands tied behind my back but she had such a strong presence that I don't think that anyone would have been able to disobey her.

I felt my legs being pushed apart and her hands caressing my balls and sliding up and down my penis until I was about to come. Then she stopped. I tensed and try to get up when her fingers started to penetrate my back passage but she pushed me back against the desk without stopping. Within seconds I had ejaculated. She said 'Don't move from where you are, just wait here'. I saw her unhurriedly walking towards the toilets. I remained motionless, I'm not sure if because of her ordering me not to move or because I was in a complete shock. I could not deny to myself that I had enjoyed the experience, but that only contributed to an increase in my turmoil.

Am I a homosexual that enjoys having things stuck up his arse. God, what is happening to me? Where are my morals? Do I have any left? Why did I like it?

I was so absorbed in my own misery that I did not hear her approaching. I almost jumped when her hands, cold from just being washed touched my buttocks. 'Relax Franco!' I couldn't see her face but there was a ring of laughter in her voice. I felt my hands being untied and I sighed with relief. I could see myself being left in that position to be found by the first early bird coming to work! 'Did you learn something?' It was my turn to remain silent, but I had nowhere to escape from her apparent mind reading. 'No Franco, you are not a homosexual, or a 'poofter' as I am sure you called them. You are just normal'. I stood up and got dressed. 

With my dignity severely dented I could only ask again 'who are you Camille?' She looked at me with her beautiful smile and I was already forgiving her for everything that she had done or would want to do to me in the future. She sat on my chair and pointing to my desk said 'Sit down. I told you that I was going to tell you more about myself and I think that now is the time'. I sat down and she started her story:

*************

'My parents separated two months after I turned 12. I still remember that cold and gray mid June morning. I didn't even suspect that they had any problem, or more like it, I did not want to see what was going on. It came to me as a big shock. At the time I had many issues to work through. Not only I had to adjust to the separation, a move from the country to the city, a new school, not having any of my good friends close by but that was when my periods began.

I lived with my mother but we didn't talk to each other much. She worked long hours and never showed any interest in what I did. Sometimes she asked me how I was doing at school, but I could see that she was not paying attention to what I had to say. As I grew older I came to accept the fact that she had very little interest in me as a whole, always absorbed in her own life and her small self contained universe that had very little to do with the reality that the rest of the world was living. In other words, she was a master at self-deception. I have an older brother who at the time lived on his own on his own and came to visit a couple of times a month. In these occasions my mother would have long, friendly chats with him, but she just dismissed anything I said, regardless of how important it could be for me. Even when one day I told her that my belly was aching almost every day she just said 'you'll get used to it'

That's why I always waited for Fridays. That was the day when my father would come to pick me up from school and we would spend the weekend together. From the moment that I was with him to Monday morning I knew I would be happy. He was and still is very different from my mother. He was forever listening, forever caring, and I never heard him say anything bad about her. Whenever I complained about my mother's lack of interest in me he would just say 'I understand, I know that it hurts you and I'm saddened for it. Unfortunately I cannot change the way your mother is, that's one of the reasons why we are no longer together. All I can do is to keep showing you that you can always talk to me, and I will always make sure that I'm ready to listen'.

So the awaited Friday finally arrived! Like clockwork my father's car was waiting, with him standing along side it, soaking the early spring sun, waiting to open the door for me. Some girls in my school thought that that was very old fashion, even embarrassing, but it made me feel good and important, and I loved it.

He lived alone by choice, not because he wasn't attractive to women. Even at that tender age I had noticed one of my teachers always trying to find excuses to talk to him. We drove to his flat, chatting, he asking me questions about school and how was life treating me in general. We always laughed a lot and life felt good. He carried my school bag up stairs commenting that based on its weight I would be doing some very heavy study. I went to sort my things in my room and to change while he was making some tea. When I came back into the lounge, the teapot was ready, two cups were set and a dish with my favourite biscuits was waiting for me.

I sat down and an intense pain gripped my belly. It took me by surprise and my father noticed. 'What's wrong?' came his immediate question. I explained to him that my belly had been hurting badly almost daily, so he asked me if I had told my mother. I told him what she had said. Without a word he got up and went to the phone to ring a doctor who would be prepared to see me even if it was already past five o'clock. 'We'll be there in about fifteen minutes' I heard him say. He turned around and said 'better leave your tea for now, we have to hurry'. 

Back we went into the car and, fifteen minutes later we were parked at a smallish suburban medical center. We walked straight in and no one was at the reception. Before my father had a chance to ring the bell on the counter, a doctor appeared and invited us into his consulting room. It was a quite barren place, impersonal and cold. There was a gray metallic desk with a swivel chair on one side and two client chairs on the other, a hand basin, a plain examination table, a small table on wheels and posters of what appeared to be half dissected human bodies on the walls. We sat down and my father explained that I was not yet thirteen and had some severe sharp pains in my belly. Then the questions begun: 'Do you feel nausea', 'no'. 'Are you running a fever', 'no'. 'Are you having your period', 'no'. 'When did you have your first period', 'three months ago'. 'When did your last period start', 'six days ago'. 'How long did you bleed for', 'three days'. 'Do you use tampons or pads', 'pads'… I wished the questions would stop but they kept coming. 'Are you sexually active', 'no'. 'Do you masturbate', 'no'… 

When the interminable questioning was over the doctor said 'undress completely and sit on the examination table'. I looked around for a screen to hide behind but there was none. My mother was always a prude and her house was definitely a 'nude free zone'. From the time that I was about six I never had to undress in front of anyone, whether a man or a woman and I felt very embarrassed and self-conscious, so I first took off my shoes, then my T-shirt, then my shorts. I stood there, on my small plain bra and unmatched cotton pants, shifting from one foot to the other until I heard the doctor say 'those too'. Hesitantly I took them off and completely naked went to sit on the examination table. My father stood up from his chair and came to stand on the side opposite the doctor. I felt the cold stethoscope on my back and followed the instructions to take a deep breath, to hold it and to start breathing again. 

I was told to lay down on my back and he listened to my chest. After that he started examining my neck with his fingers. He had wonderfully warm hands and I started to forget my embarrassment and to feel good. I closed my eyes and let those new good feelings take over me. I felt his hands in my breasts that by then had not yet completely developed, kneading them gently, lifting my arms and feeling my armpits. Then his hands moved to my belly, probing and asking if I felt any pain. He asked me to show whereabouts I felt the pain and explored further, closer to my scarce pubic hairs, on both sides. I had never felt so many wonderful sensations. 

When he stopped I look and saw him put rubber gloves from the small table near by. 'Now relax as much as you can'. I closed my eyes again and felt one of his hands under my right knee, lifting it while the other hand pushed my foot down. Then the other leg followed and he gently spread my legs as far apart as they would go. I opened my eyes and looked at my father with alarm, not knowing what to expect. He just held my hand tighter, looked into my eyes and smiled reassuringly. I felt the doctor's fingers opening me and touching and, without quite knowing what was happening to me, I started feeling very aroused for the first time in my life. The doctor told me to take a deep breath through my mouth and as I did, I felt one of his fingers penetrating me. I gasped. He probed deep inside me and said to my father that he would have to use two fingers to be able to reach even further. I was very aroused by then and the suffering that had brought me to the examination table was coming back to me with a vengeance. Suddenly I also felt the pain caused by the doctor's fingers stretching me and, as a reflex I tried to close my legs. My father put his hands on the inside of my thighs and softly but firmly pushed my legs open again. 'Just a little bit longer' he whispered. I moaned, half in pain, half with the wish for more. 

Without transition the examination was over. Like in half a dream I heard the doctor say 'you can get dressed now' and I did it like a robot. 'I don't think that there is anything really wrong with your daughter, all is normal. She has a generalised pelvic inflammation very much in line with what Masters and Johnson about eight years ago described as often occurring when there is a certain level of arousal without reaching a climax. I'd suggest that she learns how to masturbate and I would like to see her again next Friday.'

When we got back in the car it was beginning to rain. My father started the engine and asked me 'How do you feel after this new experience?' 'I don't really know' I said. 'I am a bit confused. I felt very embarrassed but at the same time I liked it'. He nodded in understanding and said 'That's more common than many people would be prepared to accept. I would suggest to you to stop worrying and just travel to wherever your feelings may take you'. The rain was slowing the traffic down. I felt a tingling and swollen sensation between my legs as I remembered lying down naked and those hands touching me. We drove in silence the rest of the way.

We had to run from the car park to the foyer. Heavy rain was falling, from the sky and from my body. We had to climb the stairs to the third floor and the feelings between my legs continued unabated. I could feel myself dripping dangerously close to the edge of my shorts. We walked into the flat and I almost ran to have a shower. 

I dried myself from the shower but the sensations between my legs were now increasing to include the inside of my thighs, like if my father's almost burning hands were still pressing my legs apart. The alien growing wetness from inside was more intense than ever and so was the pain.

Wrapped in a towel I came out of the bathroom to go to my room to get dressed when my father called me from the lounge. I had not had any relief from my pain since I was being examined at the doctor's surgery. My father asked me again how I felt 'It still hurts' was my answer. He stood up, took my hand and guided me into his bedroom. Without a word, he unhooked the towel, letting it fall on the ground. I was again naked, but this time I felt anticipation rather than embarrassment. 'Lay down on the bed'. 




Goddess Ch. 02



His voice sounded deeper than usual. He sat on the edge of the bed and his hands started caressing my face and very, very slowly moved down, cupping and stroking my breasts, playing with my nipples, always continuing their way down my body. When he reached between my legs I instinctively opened them to make it easier for him to touch me. 

I felt one of his fingers collecting moisture from the entrance to my vagina, then rubbing my swollen clitoris with a soft, steady motion. His other hand was now taking my nipples between his fingers, one at the time, pinching and twisting them until I was reaching the verge of pain, then stopping, only to start again. I was breathing heavily or, to be more accurate, I was panting. In what seem to me less than a minute I reached my first orgasm with a loud cry. My father held me tight in a hug that seemed to go forever. I was holding on to him and could not stop myself moving from laughter to tears to laughter to tears and back again until my father broke the spell by saying 'I suppose that I better order a pizza'. My pain was gone. 

After dinner we started watching a movie on television but my father decided to go to bed early and read instead. I sat in front of the TV set but my mind was not on the movie that I was supposedly watching. I could only think of being touched and feeling so hot. One of my hands drifted slowly to find a niche between my legs. I rubbed myself like my father had done and it did felt good, but I had an overwhelming feeling or, more than the feeling the knowledge that I wanted more. I got up, turned the television and the lights off and, in the dim glow of the streetlights coming from the windows, I moved towards my room. I stopped in front of my father's bedroom door, My eyes fixed in the narrow band of light showing under it. I took off my night shirt letting it fall on the floor and I went in. Neither of us said a word. I climbed into bed with him, both of us completely naked and we hugged together, this time feeling my skin against his. 

I pressed my body against his and felt his penis growing harder against me. I moved to hold it between my legs and my father sighted. His hands were running up and down my back, sometimes grabbing my buttocks, half sinking his nails into it. I moved rubbing myself against and he started kissing me, his tongue deep in my mouth. My first true kiss and he tasted so good! He slowly pushed me to lay on my back and his mouth started travelling down my neck, licking and biting softly until it reached one of my nipples where it stood for a while longer, teasing, sucking, biting a bit harder each time. My nipples had, all of the sudden been converted into the centre from where floods of pleasure inundated the rest of my body. Soon his tongue was playing with my clitoris while one of his fingers played at the entrance of my vagina. I climaxed within seconds but he kept going. My sensations were so intense that I felt a shot of pain and pleasure mixed together every time his tongue touched me.

I was ready to come again when he held my legs up and kneeled in front of me, rubbing his penis on my clitoris first, then starting to push it inside. He was big and the pain was so intense that I could not hold back a scream. My father started pulling away but I took hold of his arms, pulling him closer instead. It may have been hurting a lot, but I wanted him to do it. He understood and kept penetrating me slowly. I felt in agony, stretched, filled, overflowing but still wanting him. When I thought that I would not be able to take it for much longer he held me firm with his hands on my hips, my legs hooked under his arms and with a single deep motion pushed the rest of his penis inside me. It felt like if I was being torn apart alive and I screamed at the top of my lungs, he bent forward and started caressing my face, staying motionless inside me. By then I was crying, still in great pain, and through my watery eyes I saw and felt him kissing my tears with a tenderness that I have never experienced since.

He started withdrawing very slowly. He was still as hard as a rock and every inch that he was moving out was sending me into more screaming and more tears. When he was completely out he took me in his arms and carried me to the shower. I could see both of us with our legs covered in my blood. 

I was sill bleeding when we came out of the bathroom, so I went into my room to put a pad and then back to my father's bed. He had changed the sheets and held me tight, my head resting against his chest. I was lullabied into sleep by the music of the beating of his heart.

When I woke up on Saturday morning I was still lying with my head on my father's arm and the first thing I saw was his kind, soft eyes looking at me, surveying my face like if he wanted to imprint it in his memory for ever. I smiled and pressed myself against him. 'Good morning' he said, 'how are you feeling now?' I snugged even closer before answering 'good…' I lifted my head and kissed him on his mouth. This time I was the one pushing my tongue in and he the one responding.

'Are you still bleeding?' he asked. 'I don't know'. He pulled the blanket away, said 'lift your bottom' and pulled my pants with the pad off. 'Let me have a look' he said and I opened my legs. He opened my labia and I moaned. I was incredibly sore! He moved his hand away and gave me the softest of kisses right were I was hurting. 'You are sore but you are no longer bleeding' his voice had a happy smile. We cuddled in bed for a long while until he said 'you stay here, I will make breakfast and bring it in'.

I didn't want Monday to come but it did. On the drive to the school my father said 'I'll pick you up about half an hour earlier on Friday so we can get to the doctor's before five. He said he wanted to see you again then and I think that it's a good idea' and he handed me a note for the school asking them to release me before the normal time.

That week was the longest of my entire life. I found it hard to concentrate at school but it didn't matter, as I was miles ahead of my classmates, having always been encouraged by my father to read an be inquisitive. On Monday night I went to bed early and I broke my mother's eleventh commandment by getting between the sheets without a nigh shirt. My hands seemed to have a life of their own, drifting all over my body, recreating the feelings of the past three days. I touched myself and felt sore, but also very wet. I carefully started rubbing my clitoris and I soon reached an orgasm.

By Thursday my pains had all but gone and thinking of the coming Friday I felt hotter than ever! That night I masturbated virtually non-stop for almost one hour. I lost count of how many orgasms I reached. I would have continued for a lot longer had it not been for my mother opening the door of my darkened room and asking me if I was OK as she had hear me moaning. She had to choose that particularly inappropriate moment to show some interest in me! Had I not been completely covered with my blanket, brimstone and fire would have been rained upon me by the indignation of my self-righteous and asexual mother.

When Friday finally came, it felt strange to leave school ahead of everybody else. A teacher went with me to the door to ensure that my father was there to pick me up, or perhaps to see if she could pick him up. I got into the car while my father put my things in the boot. He got in, gave me the disappointing paternal kiss that I knew was to be reserved for public places and we immediately drove away.

While he was driving I took his left hand and put it on the inside of my thigh and he softly caressed me, from my knee to my pants, slightly touching me between my legs and asking, 'are you still sore?' I told him that I had no more pain and that I had masturbated all week thinking of him giving me lots of pleasure during the weekend. He nodded smiling and said 'regarding this doctor's appointment of yours, I will have to take you there and pick you up later as I have to go to my office for a few minutes to get some papers. Do you mind?' I would have preferred him to be present, but said 'I have no problems and don't forget that I'm an experienced woman now'. We both laughed at my comment

The medical centre was half way between my mother's home and my father's apartment, only a twenty minutes drive. He stopped the car at the entrance and as I was getting out said 'I'll be back in three-quarters of an hour. If you are out before I arrive, please wait for me at this spot.'

This time an older woman was at the reception, talking on the phone. When she finished I gave her my name, she pulled my record and said that the doctor would not be long. I only had to wait a couple of minutes when the same man that had seen me the first time called me from the entrance to a corridor. When I approached him he asked 'Your father is not with you today?' 'No, he will pick me up in about three quarters of an hour'. He said 'wait here for a minute' and left me standing there. He came back some five minutes later and took me to a different room, where two other doctors were waiting. He motioned me in and closed the door behind him. I had a glimpse around. The room was bigger than the one before, but equally as Spartan. There was the same small metal desk in one corner, an examination table that for me at the time looked strange and a single client chair. He said 'I would like my colleagues to have a look at you. They know your history, so today you wont have to answer so many questions. All you have to do now is undress.' I was apprehensive, not so much embarrassed but a bit scared by the unknown universe that I was obviously entering. Nevertheless, this time I stood facing the three men while undoing a few of the buttons and lifting my school uniform over my head, unhooking my bra and pulling my pants down. My shoes went last. Once naked I walked to the examination table and lifted myself on.

'Have you started to masturbate as I suggested' the first doctor said. 'Yes'. One of the other two men then said 'show us how you do it.' I half opened my legs and when I put my hand between them I felt incredibly wet. I liked the three men looking at me, I think that deep down I already knew then that I did have the power to make them hot enough to practically convert them into being my slaves. I started stroking the entrance to my vagina and my clitoris when one of the doctors moved my hand away and started doing it for me. I felt my legs being lifted and hooked on the high stirrups, opened wide apart. One of the doctors stood between my legs while the other two stood one on each side. They all started stimulating me at the same time. Every part of my body was responding and I could feel how even my toes were becoming erogenous zones. In no time at all I reached a state that I can only describe as constant orgasm. 

While I was moaning and twisting, the doctor between my legs pushed two fingers inside me and said with a wide grin 'I see that you did a lot more than just masturbate'. I couldn't see what he was doing but I soon felt his penis penetrating me and moving inside me with deep thrusts and a fast rhythm. I felt no pain this time, not only because it was my second time but, also because he felt much smaller than my father.

I lost track of time. I kept going from a howling climax to the next. I must say that I was proud of virtually exhausting three men, each one of them old enough to be my father but, I must say, none as sexy as he is even today. When I left that room I had sore muscles that I did not even know existed, but I was also walking with a smile in my face. Actually, until last year I kept going there for any medical but unfortunately that doctor has been struck off because of complaints of sexual misconduct, most certainly none of them from me. A real pity! 

My father was waiting for me. 'That took a really long time' he said. 'We just started chatting and didn't realise how late it was. He examined me again and said that if I was going to have sex to be careful not to get pregnant, as I was still growing, therefore a bit too young to go on the pill'. I didn't feel like telling him what had happened. Looking back on that day I can see that what I actually did was to take my first step towards establishing my own independent sexual identity.

That afternoon we got to my father's apartment and as he closed the door I started undressing. We were caressing each other all the way to the bedroom. By the time we made it into bed, in spite of my sore muscles I was dripping all the way down my legs and my father was going mad with the urge to get inside me to fuck me until we both came... Regardless of all the sexual encounters that I have had since, I can truthfully say that I never had a sexier weekend!

That's how I had my sexual awakening, and I am both, proud of it and happy that it came to be that way! Even now I visit my father as often as I can and every time I'm there we find an excuse to be away from his new wife for long enough to have some of the most satisfying sex that there is. I remember doing it once in his garage, lying naked on top of the car's hood after we arrived from shopping, feeling the warm hot metal against my own hot and sweaty skin. Nowadays, when I go past somebody mowing their lawn I relieve the time in the garden shed with me bending forward over a bag full of grass clippings, the smell of freshly mown lawns in my nose and my father's hands holding my hips. A perfectly choreographed love-making paradise.'

*************

I never stopped looking into her eyes all the way through her story. I was hoping to be able to see if she was serious or if she was just trying to shock me even further but she never gave me any indication that I could use to see if she was telling the truth or just making up a story. All the time she remained, as always, a mystery.

All the way through her story I could not stop thinking of my own daughter. Her sexuality would be developing right at this moment, but I did not know, nor had I ever been able to establish a relationship of trust with her that would make it possible for her to feel free to talk to me about anything.

Camille and I were looking at each other without talking for several minutes. She finally broke the silence. 'Franco, I know that you were looking for me all week rather than getting on with the business of living your life. You will never find me. Your efforts in that respect are totally futile, so I suggest you give up your search. I will appear again when the right time comes.'

She raised from the chair, and started walking away, ready to vanish again. With a trembling voice I said, 'I think that I'm beginning to fall in love with you.' She turned around with an expression of understanding mixed with compassion. 'That is not quite possible Franco, to be able to love others you have to learn to love yourself first and that is a most difficult task when guilt rules your life.' I looked at her slowly walking away towards the lifts, her image fading in the darkness of the office.

I feel as a child who is being abandoned naked in the wilderness, a modern day version of Romulus and Remus. I can only hope that the wolves will nurture me like they did to them rather than just feast on my carcass.

I didn't attempt to follow her. Much as I wanted to I realised that she would never allow me to find her. I had at last arrived to the first stage of understanding Camille and myself. I could see that she would only play a game by her rules, not mine, nor those of the society at large, nor those of religions, nor any rule coming from any other form of law or dogma, only hers. As far as my life was concerned, I understood that it had to be re-invented. I could no longer live by what I had thought were fundamental and unchanging values. Camille's entry into my world had demonstrated to me that life was in a constant state of flux and I had to learn to move with it.

I walked slowly to the lifts, holding Camille's memory by its hand. The almost empty streets of midnight Sydney matched the emptiness that I felt inside me.



Goddess Ch. 03



It was a long and lonely week. It took me three long apologetic phone calls to Pat on Wednesday morning, each having to endure her diatribes against me before she put me through to my daughter who was enjoying her school holidays. 'Hi Dad.' Her voice sounded non-committal. She was probably still resentful because I didn't turn up to pick her up on the weekend. 'Marianne, firstly I want to really apologise to you, not only because of not picking you up on Sunday, but for not being much of a father to you or your brother for all those years. Would you and Peter like to come with me for a picnic on Sunday?' There was a short silence, as if she was considering the pros of the outing with the cons of another disappointment. 'I would love to dad, but I heard Peter and Charles talking about going to see a rugby match that day, so you better ask him, I'll call him to the phone.' 

Pat's new companion is doing for my son what I had never done for him since he was born, learning to grow together, to know each other, to see how my son is seeing his own world as well as the world he wants to live in. It hurts, it bloody well hurts to realise how much I'm missing.

'Sorry dad but I have already made other arrangements for Sunday. Perhaps another time.' Peter's tone of voice was polite but didn't invite any further conversation. 'OK son, I understand and, by the way, I would like to give you the same apology that I gave Marianne for last Sunday as well as for not being a real father to you for the past eight years.'

'Actually, you could make those eighteen rather than eight years. Would you like to talk to Marianne again?' There was no point in arguing because he was right and we both knew it. 'Yes please.'

'Hi dad again!' She sounded as if she had decided that she was going to risk the disappointment. 'At what time do you get up on Sundays?'

'Well, mum insists that we have breakfast not later than 8:30, so most of the time I get up at eight.'

'OK, I'll be there ringing the bell at 8:15. We will have breakfast together on the way. Could I now have a word with your mother?'

'Sure, hang on for a second!' It took almost two minutes for Pat to come to the phone. 'Are you deciding to become a decent human being at last? Marianne told me that you apologised to her and on top of that you are going to pick her up before breakfast! What's going to happen with your church going?' Pat's voice sounded genuinely surprised, the irony was there but without the usual hard bite. 'I have begun to see many things in my life that I never noticed before, so I'm making an effort to change. I just wanted to ask you if it was convenient for me to come that early.' There was no irony this time. 'No problems at all and, if you are a bit earlier Charles and I may even invite you for a cup of coffee.' I hung up with a sense of deep relief.

I must say that other good things did happen during that week. Tired and in turmoil as I was I had a great deal of satisfaction seeing Pompous John's face when I distributed my article at the editorial meeting. He didn't expect it and when he praised it he sounded as if he was about to choke on his own words. Maureen and I looked at each other with laughing eyes and a sense of conspiracy. 

The meeting was over by lunchtime and as I was heading out Maureen caught up with me and said, 'Well done! It is not often that I get to see John put into his place so nicely. Let me buy you a coffee.' We were both feeling happy with the way things had worked out. I said to Maureen, 'In my old age I must be getting to be irresistible to women. You are the second one to invite me for a coffee in the last twenty-four hours.'

'Who is my rival?' I looked directly at her so that I would not miss her reaction, 'Pat.' I was pleased with the result. Maureen stopped dead in her tracks and looked at me in utter disbelief. 'I think that it is about time that I tell you some of the things that are playing havoc with my life at this moment, turning virtually everything upside down, but we cannot do that standing in the foyer, so we better get our coffees first.' 

We walked in silence to Barry's Cafe, the place where the selected few run to when they have to go to ground. He was busy behind the counter and all the tables were full. 'Anyone in the back room?' I asked. 'No mate. Is your boss chasing you?' He knew John and he didn't like him either. 'I'm not sure, but if he shows up you didn't see us.' He nodded showing us his crooked smile. He had served time in jail and he would never turn a friend in. 'What will you have?' We ordered our modest lunches and two coffees. Barry said 'No worries, you know the way. I'll bring everything to you in five.' 

We worked our way past the toilets and around the crates of drinks, squeezing through a narrow passage to reach the door marked 'Private.' Maureen said 'I don't know how Barry manages to get away with this fire trap but, on the other hand, I don't think that I would come here if it was not like this. Nowadays we live an existence devoid of risk and life is getting to be too boring.' To me Maureen was a never ending source of surprises. 'I didn't know that you had such a philosophical streak.' She laughed.

Barry's Café was in an old building that by some miracle had, for all those years escaped the clutches of the development boom. The 'back room' was nothing more than an oversized cupboard with no windows and two small exhaust fans, one pumping in the fumes from the inner city that the locals called air and another pumping out the smell of tobacco mixed with the smell of a sweaty humanity. It was just big enough to fit a table for four and the chairs. Whenever the full complement of four people was present, getting in and out required a lot of planning and the co-operation of everyone in the room, as there was not enough space to move between the back of the chairs and the walls. A naked light bulb hanging from the dirty ceiling highlighted the peeling paint on the walls. You could easily imagine Lenin and Trotsky sitting at this table planning the October Revolution, or the Magnetic Drill Gang working the final details of their next robbery.

We sat and looked at each other. I wanted to tell Maureen my story but I didn't know how or where to start. Feeling embarrassed I said 'Once upon a time there was a man with a life very well ordered into neat pigeon holes and reassuring routines. Everything was pre-digested and pre-determined for him. He didn't really have to think. He was raised as a very religious person and whenever there was a crisis that required him to make a decision he would always do what the church said was to be done. He found it virtually unnecessary to commit himself to even considering any other alternative: He just had to follow God's word and everything would be solved. That is until ten days ago.' 

It seems that years have passed, not just a few days. I feel that I'm perhaps trying to dump an enormous amount of values but I still have nothing to replace them with. I realise that I can no longer avoid making decisions and that I have to take risks, but I don't know how! 

'Calling Franco … Calling Franco. Over.' Maureen was looking at me, holding her chin in her hands, a question mark on each eye. 'You were light years away. Do you want to still tell me what's happening to you or not?' It took me a couple of seconds to realise that I had stopped talking. 'I do want to tell you. In fact, I need to tell somebody before I go completely mad, but I'm not so sure that I really know what is happening to me. I had a complete shift from the total certitude of the well rehearsed routines of everyday life to the complete incertitude of the unknown.' Maureen covered my hand with hers and said 'Welcome to the real world of humanity Frank!' If she was trying to comfort me it didn't work.

Three groups of two knocks on the door marked the arrival of our lunches delivered by Barry in person. Never leaving behind the conspiratorial undertones that he developed while in Long Bay jail, he liked always adding his dramatic touches like the special knocking on the door or the glance back at the corridor just as he opened the door. He made it a point to show to everyone that he was making sure that the fuzz were not following him. He looked at Maureen and myself and said 'Whose funeral is it?' In Barry's universe, it didn't matter how hard life was treating you, you could still maintain your sense of humour. They say that when he was sentenced he actually made a joke of it. Apparently the jury liked it, but the judge threatened him with adding a contempt of court charge to the list. I made an effort to smile and said 'Sorry Barry, I think that I'm mourning the death of my innocence.' He looked in amazement and said 'Shit mate! Did it really take you so bloody long?' Maureen laughed and I even managed a chuckle. He left us, shaking his head in disbelief.

We ate in silence. I welcomed the opportunity to collect my thoughts and think how I was going to continue with my story. I wished that eating two toasted sandwiches could take longer but we got to our coffees and Maureen was there, patiently waiting. 

'Just ten days ago I was covering one of those boring socialite's parties. I met a woman there and within less than ten minutes of meeting her we were having, well, you know … s-e-x.' Maureen started laughing with a silent laugh that was shaking her entire body and I stopped talking. 'Sorry Franco, I thought that that could be the case. So, what's the big deal, did she rape you?' I didn't know if I should feel offended, hurt or both so I remained silent. 'Franco, really, please, come into this century once and for all. People no longer fuck for God and Country; they do it because they enjoy it! Out there a sexual revolution has come and virtually gone, while feminism and equal opportunity are the buzz words of the day. The Pope may still hold on to his refusal to accept contraceptives, but even the Catholic hierarchy will soon have to come to grips with a reality that can no longer be denied. Today it is no longer "Populate or Perish" but "Populate and Perish". I'm sure that in ten or fifteen years people will begin to say that we are already too many. Having said all this, I'll get down from my soap box and let you continue.'

She is right, I know that, but I still cannot feel that it is right for me. Although I always made the ideas of the church my own I was never so militant to join the demonstrators when Hail Mary was screened. What's more, I was never prepared to stand in the way of people who wanted to do even the most outrageous thing. My problem is that when it comes to myself all I can think of is that I am not allowed to do it.

Reluctantly I re-started my story. 'I know that a lot of people think that I'm the last surviving dinosaur. I'm sure that I can count you and even my children among those who think that I'm out of touch with today's reality. But you have to understand one thing: I was raised to accept without question what was being given to me, and without even thinking of not complying. Remember Big Brother in 1984? Change it to God and you will be able to understand me better.' Maureen looked contrite and said 'I'm sorry, I have been very unfair, don't' let me stop you again!' I thought what else I could tell her. 'There isn't much more really, except that for the first time I have begun to think for myself. For the first time I can see what I have done to other people. I love my children dearly, but I have never been a real father to them. 

This morning I apologised to my daughter and my son for it. In a nutshell, I'm just trying to see both, who and where I am before I can begin to think about where I am going.' Maureen made a soft whistling sound. 'I can see that you have a lot on your plate at this moment. Is your new lady friend helping you cope with all this upheaval?' How could I explain Camille? 'After that encounter I looked for her during the entire week. Every trail I followed took me nowhere. She had totally vanished. That is, until Monday night. Coming back to my desk from the toilet after finishing my article, close to eleven o'clock, she was there, waiting for me and we had sex again, on my desk! She is a total mystery for me. I just know nothing about her, but she seems to know everything about me. In the two instances that I met her it really looked as if she always knows what I'm even thinking!'

Maureen was lost for words for the second time running which was in itself an achievement of Olympic proportions, even though at the time I couldn't possibly see it, lost as I was in trying to find answers for so many questions that I had never asked before. We walked back to work, together but again in silence. We were alone in the lift and Maureen said 'Thank you Franco for sharing all that with me. I don't know what the future will bring you, but I can see that your present is giving you a golden opportunity to change and build a happier life for yourself. Don't waste it.'

'I won't', was my heart felt answer.

Solitude has never bothered me, before then or now, but during that period of my life I was very much conscious of how alone I felt. The proximity of Sunday and the picnic with my daughter was making me feel an excitement that I had not experienced since I was a kid anxiously awaiting the day when I had been promised a visit to the zoo. On Saturday night I spent one hour preparing enough sandwiches to feed a large group of hungry bush walkers. Gleaming red and white prosciutto, carefully laid on top of pale, hand sliced fontina cheese with giardiniera pieces on top. Slices of a loaf of large Italian bread with the crust shaved off developed a life of their own, decorating the bench of my small kitchen with happy memories from my childhood. I was re-enacting a ritual of a time gone by that had remained hidden in the darkest corners of my memories for all those years. 

My father is making his favourite sandwiches for the two of us to go fishing off the rocks in Manly. He got up very early to be at the delicatessen in Leichhardt that morning, waiting for them to open so he could get his bread and his prosciutto. 'Franco, Australia is a good country, a land of plenty, but I have to agree with your mother, we have yet to learn to make bread.' I look with fascination. His huge hands with skin like leather are out of place in the kitchen. I cannot understand how his rough fingers can separate the paper thin slices of meat and so neatly lay them down following the curve of the bread. He wraps the sandwiches in a dampened tea towel and then in a bigger towel, tying the four ends together to make it a carrying bag. I walk to the bus with our lunch proudly hanging from my hand while he carries the fishing gear. 

Today, most people would have classified my father as a larrikin but back after the war he was considered a pariah. He was a philosophy student when war broke up. He left university to go to fight in Africa and Europe and when the war was over he didn't come back to Australia with the rest. He went to live for some time in Italy and when he did come back in the late forties he did so with a very pregnant Italian wife who could not speak a single word of English. There could not be two more dissimilar people than my father and my mother. He was a free spirit, who loved reading and worked as a bricklayer just because he loved building things. I remember him telling me 'I spent the years of the war destroying houses, bridges, people and fields. Now I only want to build as many houses as I have destroyed or, even better, more than that. I have seen too much death, that's why I love life' My mother lived her life by the teachings of the church, never departing one inch from them. I had just turned eight years old when one hot late summer day, coming back from fishing I told my mother that I had gone swimming with my father. 'But you didn't take your swimming suits with you' she said in her heavily accented English. When I proudly said 'We swam naked' I thought that the roof would cave in on our heads. She turned to my father screaming 'God will punish you! You are a degenerate, what are you teaching your son, eh?' My father shrugged his shoulders and walked away to the kitchen to put the fish in the icebox for dinner. 

I'm coming back home on the first week of the school year. My mother is crying. She holds me in her arms repeating time and time again 'Cosa voi fare bambino, cosa voi fare?'

'What happen Mama? Don't cry! Please, don't cry!'

'Il tou padre e morto! I said to him that God would punish him and allora he is dead. He fell from the scaffold in the block of units he was working and he is morto, dead!' She takes me by my hand and still crying loudly half runs, half walks to the church to pray for the salvation of his soul. It is two days later, I see my father in the coffin and I have to kiss him. To my eight years old lips full of life he feels cold as ice. The women sitting around, mostly Italian, all dressed in black, are crying together, in communion with my mother.

Since my father's death, every night, until the day before my mother passed away we kneeled together and prayed asking God to forgive the sins of my father and keep him in purgatory rather than condemning him to the flames of hell. Although she loved my father, she always complained when he would go fishing on Sundays rather than to church. His lack of piety and his refusal to follow rules in general were perpetual sources of arguments. My mother would say that God rewarded those who obeyed and punished those who didn't. Unperturbed, my father would reply that even if she was right and God did exist he didn't want to have anything to do with a god that would punish good blokes just because they were disobedient. 

The alarm clock woke me up with a jolt at five o'clock in the morning. I had decided to take Marianne bush walking, but I didn't know if she would like it or not, so I packed for all possibilities, including a beach umbrella and towels as the weather forecast was for a warm day. I left my unit at six thirty and, without thinking I found myself driving past my church. A pang of guilt struck me, thinking of Father Patrick going through the elaborate rituals for the early mass and looking for me among the people in the pews and, not seeing me there worrying by my absence. I drove on. I was so determined that I would not be late this time that by seven o'clock in the morning I was sitting in my parked car, a few doors away from Pat's home, waiting.

By eight my car had become a claustrophobic box in which I could no longer sit. I walked through the garden enveloped in the smell of blooming freesias, still showing traces of the morning mist. I was feeling very nervous, as if I was going into some sort of blind date. After all, I didn't really know my daughter, nor I ever gave her the chance to know me. It was too early for the chorus of suburban lawnmowers to have started, so when I rang the bell I could clearly hear Marianne yelling, 'I'll get it!' The door flung open and there she was, with a smile emanating from every cell of her body. 'Hi dad, come in!' As I stepped inside she gave me the biggest hug ever. She was happy. 'I'm sorry, but I'm not really ready, but almost really ready. Mum!' She was talking so fast that her words were almost tripping on each other. 'I'll be ready in no time!' She then ran inside at full speed, leaving me standing there, just inside the house. 'Slow down before you walk through a wall! Sorry Franco, your daughter has been very excited all Saturday and from what I can see, she hasn't yet calmed down. Come in and join us for a coffee.' Pat had not changed, she was a very attractive woman. She was dressed in very short shorts and a T-shirt. She led the way, barefooted and sensuous. I couldn't tell if she was always as sexy as now or if it was that I was just noticing it for the first time. 




Goddess Ch. 03



We walked into the kitchen, to the smell of fresh toasts with just brewed coffee. Charles was busy preparing breakfast, but he turned around, his right hand offering a handshake and his left a cup of coffee. 'Hi Franco! Take a seat. Nice to see you.' I had noticed before that he was always economising words, his speech sounding almost staccato. The strange thing was that he was a good communicator, always using his body to repeat the message a second time, never showing a discrepancy between the two. 'Wanna a toast to help wash the coffee down?'

'Thanks for the coffee but I'll pass with the toast, I promised Marianne that we would have breakfast on the way.' Charles had a good humoured laugh. 'Mate, you'll probably have lunch on the way. That kid is notorious for going slow on Sundays!' I was sipping the coffee and before I could say anything my daughter walked in. 'I heard that and it is not true! If I'm always the last one its because the rest of you spend too much time in the shower.' You could feel the good vibes in that room. They knew each other and they could easily joke together. 'C'mon dad, I'm hungry!'

We got into the car and Marianne said 'Where are you taking me today.' I thought that this was the opportunity to start finding out what she liked and disliked. 'I thought that if you feel energetic enough we could go to a place that I know in the Royal National Park. Most people don't know about it because it is away from the walking track and the terrain is not easy, but the effort is worth it. There is a spring that feeds a large pool carved into the rock, but if you don't like it we can always go to the beach. The weather is warming up.' She was excited. 'I'm always going to the beach, I rather go to the bush and explore this secret place of yours.'

We stopped on the way in a plastic and chrome palace to have what I considered to be a plastic breakfast served by young people with plastic smiles giving customers the plastic tray of junk food with the most insincere 'Enjoy your meal' that anyone could utter. Marianne devoured her food while I just nibbled mine. Less than half an hour later we were again on the road. My daughter had been doing some considerable reading about the bush and as soon as we entered the National Park she started a running commentary on the different types of vegetation and the fauna that they supported. I parked the car at the picnic area where the walking track begun and started trying to pack the contents of the boot into the backpack. I was leaving the towels behind but Marianne took them. 'I'll carry those, we may want to have a swim in that pool.'

We started walking down the track and soon we entered into a different world. The noise of the road could no longer reach us, so we just marched to the rhythm of the birds singing and the gentle breeze caressing the foliage high above our heads. After a long descent, the narrow path had a sharp right turn where a large rock formation blocked the way. I pointed them to Marianne and said 'What do you see in those rocks.' She looked at them carefully, shook her head and said 'Just a forbidding wall of rock.' I smiled and said 'Follow me.' I guided her towards what seemed to be just an indentation on the rock and squeezed through a small opening leading in the opposite direction to the path. After a few yards of moving sideways in the narrow curving passage we entered a large open cavern carved by millions of years of rain and wind. 'Wow!' Marianne was looking in amazement. I pointed to her the aboriginal paintings and said 'I'm going to ask you for the same promise that the person who showed me this place asked me to make: Never tell anyone about this place unless you trust that person and he or she promises to do the same. Those paintings have been left in peace for more than 40,000 years and they deserve to be protected.' Her response had the reassuring tone of passion 'I promise dad, I do promise!' The wind had died down and the birds had stopped singing as if they wanted to hear that promise. She hugged me and said 'Thank you dad for trusting in me and I will never disappoint you, never!' We walked in silence, followed by the echoing of our own steps on the rock.

We moved forward through the harsh terrain until we reached a gigantic boulder. I turned around and said 'On the other side of this rock is Shangri-La.' We had to climb the last twenty yards in our hands and knees and there it was: Nature's landscape gardening at its best. The pool was in a flat area, with a sheer cliff on one side and a sharp drop at the other. Half way up the cliff the spring, as it had done for thousands of years continued nurturing a pocket of rain forest with an abundance of ferns and bushes. I guided Marianne to a natural table top on the corner and we sat down. We were soaked in perspiration and tired by the walk but in what appeared to me only a few seconds Marianne got up and with a lot of energy said 'I'm hot, let's go in for a swim.' 

Without any hesitation she took her shoes and socks off, pulled her top over her head revealing her small but well formed breasts and in a swift movement she stepped out of her shorts and her underwear at the same time. Completely naked, she turned to face me and said 'I remember when I was a little girl of eight, shortly before you and Mum separated, you lectured me because I was running naked in the house. Are you going to do the same now?' I clearly remembered the day that she was talking about. I realised that she had stated her challenge and it was up to me to accept it or not. She saw my hesitation, and a cloud descended upon her face. I swallowed hard and said 'No, I'll not lecture you again. I'm making a great effort to change a lot of things in my life, and my propensity to lecture people is one of them.' The spark of a smile illuminated her face again and with laughing eyes she said 'Good! Now you can join me.' I looked at her, a child in terms of the law, a young woman for most men.

She is beautiful! I feel aroused and can imagine the two of us lying naked side by side in bed, after making love for hours… Franco, wake up! Do you want to find yourself in jail? Even though some ten years ago the Royal Commission on Human Relations recommended that incest be decriminalised, it is unlikely that you will be able to find many sympathetic judges around.

With trepidation I started to undress, my daughter facing me not even ten feet away, waiting, looking at me, her eyes locked into mine. I stood in my briefs, with a very visible erection, trying to find an excuse for not going any further, almost immobilised in the twin grip of embarrassment and fear. 

Here I am, dammed if I do and dammed if I don't. She wants me to stand naked like she is, equals at last. I know that this could be the beginning of getting to know her but…What do I do with this bloody erection?

'How many more things beyond your lecturing are you trying to change dad?' The voice of Marianne spurred me on. I dropped my underwear and my penis jumped up. I ran and dived into the shock of the icy cold water.

Perhaps she didn't see it. I moved very fast and she may have missed it. I only hope that the cold water gets it down!

I felt more than heard my daughter entering the water. I came out for air and I couldn't see her. I looked around and all of the sudden she came out less than a foot away from me. She said 'It's freezing! I think that we better come out.' The water was definitely cold. The spring feeding the pool came out at a very low temperature and the surrounding rocks required many hot days to warm up. Marianne went back out but I stayed on, hoping for my erection to subside, with only limited success. Finally, still with my penis half standing I had to contemplate my alternatives, death by hypothermia or death by terminal embarrassment. The survival instinct won the day. 

As I climbed out of the water I could see Marianne, still naked, spreading the towels in a sunny spot, one alongside the other, with no gap in between. She heard me coming out and turned around. 'Come here quickly, you must be completely frozen!' So young and already her maternal instinct was taking over, the only problem was that I wasn't her child but her father! I bent down to pick one of the towels up but it was not to be. 'Don't! Just lay down on the top and let the sun warm you.' At least I could hide my front, so I obeyed her. I expected to feel the hard rock surface but my very thoughtful and enterprising daughter had been busy collecting dry leaves to make a comfortable bed. Given the self-assured way in which she was behaving, I started fearing just what her intentions could be.

This is really ludicrous. Who would believe me if I was to say that I'm worried because I think that my daughter may try to seduce me? People would probably say that I'm just projecting my own feeling and desires for her.

My reverie was interrupted by the touch of her hand on my back. She was warm and it startled me. 'You are frozen!' she cried in alarm. Without further warning she was pressing her entire body against mine in a combined gesture of protection and possession, my mother becoming my lover at the same time that she remained my daughter. I felt her pubic hairs pressing against my buttocks, her breasts on my back and I became totally aroused again. I felt my penis digging into the layers of dry leaves under the towel. Marianne came down from my back, but it was only to press herself against my side. I was laying with my face away from her and I didn't move. I suddenly felt her lips softly kissing the back of my neck. It was as if I was paralysed while a powerful electric current travelled the full length of my body. 'Dad, would you mind turning around? I would like to talk and it is impossible to maintain a conversation with the back of your neck.' I didn't have any reasonable excuse to give to her so, once again, I obeyed. Her eyes met mine and then surveyed my face, as if she had never seen it before and she had to discover every minute wrinkle, every pore and every cell. 

I desperately want to hug her tightly but I don't dare. I look at her beautiful young face so close to mine and see her lips are half parted, like if she is either waiting for me to kiss her or she is considering kissing me instead. 

With mischief in her face Marianne said 'I want a hug.' In spite of my inner turmoil I managed to have what I thought was a fast come back. 'I thought that what you wanted was to talk.'

'Yes, but I also want a hug. You have always been very stingy with your hugs and I love them!' Intuitively, or I think it was just intuitively, she was using guilt to get me to do what she wanted and it worked. My arm was trapped between her body and mine and she didn't move, so in getting my arm out I involuntarily had to caress her. I put my arm over her body but I didn't turn to face her. 'That is not a real hug! You tell me that you love me but it is as if you want me to stay away. Funny way of loving me!'

Reluctantly, I turned to face her, pushing my back as far away as I could, to avoid my penis touching her and I gave her a bone crushing, almost desperate hug. A big smile lit her face as she wriggled her body to gain full contact with mine, my penis resting against her pubic hair. 'Dad, you don't have to hide from me, I saw you had an erection when you went into the water and you still had it when you came out of it. I'm neither stupid nor blind, you know?' I had been isolated in a world devoid of adolescents. I had never been given an assignment dealing with youth issues and I never felt inclined to find out what was happening with the younger generations. I was truly shocked. 'What is it that you know?' I asked her in amazement. In a very matter of fact fashion she said 'I have had sex education, and I have also watched mum and Charles having sex many times.' She pressed her body harder against mine. 'Do they know you watch them?' She smiled. 'The first time I thought that they didn't, but then I overheard them talking saying that sooner or later I had to learn and learn I did!'

I didn't really want to know more but at the same time I felt that I had to ask. I tried to sound as matter of fact as Marianne when I said 'Have you already begun to have sex?' I almost let out a sigh of relief when she said 'Not yet, but I have been masturbating for more than one year.' My relief was to be short lived, because in the same breath she said 'What I would really like is you to be the one that takes my virginity away from me. Every time I masturbate I have the same fantasy' 

I almost choked. 'Marianne, do you know how many laws are in place in this country to protect children?' She was not to be dismissed so easily. With fire in her eyes she said 'Do those laws protect my right to express my sexuality when I want to do it? They didn't ask for my opinion either' There was a lot of Pat in her defiance and I thought that she would make an invaluable member in any debating team. I continued to try to keep her as far away as possible from my penis but she had attached herself to me like a limpet mine and every movement I made resulted in our bodies rubbing against each other, to my daughter's delight and my desperation.

The ruffling of leaves took the two of us by surprise. When we looked, Camille was standing less that ten feet away, looking at us with a tender smile in her face. She was still dressed in her long white dress, without any trace of dirt, wearing still her party shoes, as if she had just materialised there without having to negotiate the tortuous track that we had to use. Marianne seemed completely unfazed by her presence. She greeted her with a big smile and said 'Hi Camille!' They obviously knew each other, so I must have sounded very stupid when I said to my daughter 'Do you know Camille?'

'Camille has been my friend for ages.' Camille remained standing there, motionless, in silence, watching and smiling until Marianne said 'Will you just stay there or are you going to join us?' Still in silence, Camille once again stepped out of her dress and shoes and came to lie on my other side. I felt trapped between the two of them and tried to get up. I only succeeded in being forced down, this time on my back, my erection for the whole world of three to see. Speaking very softly Camille said 'Your daughter obviously wants you, and the state of your penis screams that you want her too. Are you going to walk away from this?' I struggled, trying to get up again and said 'I cannot do it. It would be WRONG with capital letters.' Camille straddled over me and to both my horror and delight she inserted my penis into her while my daughter looked with fascination. She started moving up and down, very slowly. Camille had an incredible control of her vaginal muscles and, as she moved she contracted and released them in tune with the rhythm of her movements. Within seconds I came with a spasm shaking my entire body but Camille continued until she came herself with a deep moan. 

I looked at Marianne who was on her knees and breathing very heavily. Camille lifted herself from me and a dollop of thick juices fell from her on my thigh. Camille looked at my daughter and said 'Both you and I have had our pleasure but Marianne is still to have hers.' She moved to the side and made Marianne lay down. She parted my daughter's legs open and looking at me with a stare that did not invite any arguments said 'Put your hand between your daughter's legs and feel what her body is saying.' Holding my breath I touched the inside of Marianne thigh and tentatively moved my hand up her leg. She moaned. Feeling both, bolder and more aroused I softly parted her labia to be greeted by a cascade of wetness. Camille stood up and started getting dressed as I began to gently stimulate my daughter. As she responded, I slowly pushed one of my fingers inside her. She felt hot inside and very tight. It didn't take long at all for her to reach an orgasm with a cry. She grabbed my other arm and pulled me against her. As I was being dragged down I looked and saw Camille disappearing around the boulder.

I found myself lying on my side, cuddling Marianne, my finger still inside her, while she was thrusting herself into it while at the same time trying to kiss me. When I tried to move my hand away she wrapped her legs around my arm and locked herself and my hand into a solid and united entity. She had the ability of a contortionist and I was starting to wander how I was going to disentangle myself from my daughter when she calmed down and said 'Please hug me tight.' I complied and, having learned my lesson, this time I did not even try to move my penis away from her. I held her in my arms, gently stroking her back, from her neck to bellow her buttocks, her head cradled in my shoulder and her pubic hair against my penis that by now was again painfully erect. After a long time she lifted her head to kiss me gently on my lips. I couldn't respond fully, still amazed by what I truthfully thought to be the ridiculous situation of being seduced by my own daughter but, at the same time I didn't want Marianne to feel rejected so I tried to remain in a sort of middle of the road mode. What I didn't realise was that if you stay in the middle of the road, sooner or later you will get hit by the traffic moving in both directions! 

She continued kissing me, with her kisses growing wilder. What at the beginning was gentleness soon was replaced by passion. In a movement that took me entirely by surprise she lifted herself and jumped on me, making me fall on my back. With the speed of lightening she straddled over me with a new determination: She was going to emulate Camille. I really panicked. Torn between my desire for her and my prohibitions my socialisation finally won. I jumped from under Marianne with such force that she fell back on the towel. I grabbed my clothes to get dressed and she started crying with loud sobs. I hurried and kneeled on her side, my hand again stroking her naked back. I pushed her softly to turn on her side. At first she resisted it but eventually turned around to lay on her back. I took her hands and lifted her to cuddle her. Big tears were rolling down her eyes, her face the image of despair. My heart was aching for her. While holding her in my arms trying to console her I said 'I'm sorry Marianne. Please try to understand me. For all my life I have been a devout Catholic. Today is the first Sunday that I have not attended Mass since my father died when I was eight years old. Today I also realised that my little daughter is no longer a child but a woman. On top of all that I also had to confront my own sexuality, including the fact that I really want to make love to you.' The crying stopped. Marianne pulled back to look at my face and said 'Do you really mean it?' I could only answer the truth 'Yes, I do.' She knew that I was not lying. With maturity well beyond her age she said 'I know that you are changing many things and that it is not easy. I'm also changing and I often hurt because of it, but that doesn't make me stop. When something doesn't work the first time I keep trying until it does. Dad, I want you to be the first man to make love to me and I will continue trying until you do.' I could see that she wasn't lying either.

We got up. I sat on a nearby rock and watched my daughter's body disappearing behind her clothes. 

I really prefer her naked and God knows that it took all my panic not to make love to her. Does God really know? I'm beginning to think that I should ask myself: Does God exists? What is the right question? Shit, what a mess! I keep moving further and further away from what is supposed to be salvation and closer to damnation every day.

Almost like a zombie I set the lunch on the rock table provided by nature. I felt self-conscious, unsure of how to relate to my daughter. In contrast to my uncertainties, Marianne acted and looked the same as always. She approached and looking at the food said 'I'm starving!' and she proceeded to attack one of the sandwiches with gusto. I started eating, deep in thought, my mind still chained to the events of the last few hours. 'Dad, are you going to sit there brooding about what happened?' Either she was learning to read minds like Camille or I was just like an open book without realising it. Between mouthfuls she continued 'Nothing has changed, I'm still a virgin and you have not quite broken any of your taboos. I'm not going to tell anyone what we experienced here together and I love you more than before. You are my dad, but now you are also a man and a beautiful human being to my eyes, not like before where I could not reach you regardless of how hard I tried. It is true I would have preferred you to take my virginity away and you can be sure that if you had done just that my feelings for you would not have changed.' I felt like crying, seeing how much pain I had inflicted upon my daughter for attempting to live the life of the righteous. Lost for words I stood up, walked to her to give her a tight hug. We packed and, in silence, we started our trek back. 




Goddess Ch. 03



It took us a long time to come back to civilisation. We made our way back sitting down on rocks or fallen trees every a couple of hundred meters. During one of our last unscheduled stops a crimson rosella sitting on a branch only a few meters from us started whistling its call. Marianne said 'I'll show you something funny' and started imitating the bird's sound. Within seconds the rosella had changed its call and so did my daughter. This process was repeated half a dozen times until Marianne could no longer control her laughter, making it impossible for her to whistle. Laughter is contagious and I joined in and normality was restored with chatter and jokes slowly dissipating the tension away. 

When we made it back to the picnic area, its only occupant, a solitary bush walker was getting up to leave. We waved at him and he waved back as we sat at one of the tables. The rest of the sandwiches came out again and we ate them with a ravenous appetite. As soon as we finished Marianne came to sit on my side but looking in the opposite direction. Resting her back on the table she put her arms around my neck and said 'Thank you for a wonderful day.' I held her a bit tighter and I kissed her like I would have kissed a lover. I must say that it did not feel strange or wrong, it just felt natural. Our tongues played with each other for several minutes. I heard a car going past on the nearby road but I didn't stop. When we finally pulled apart from each other my daughter's face was lit with happiness and she said 'Wow! That was really nice!' I laughed in acknowledgement as I collected our things and started walking towards the car.

When we sat in the car Marianne rested her right hand on the inside of my thigh and, as I started driving, she began gently stroking my leg up and down. I said 'Marianne, I will have to concentrate on my driving or otherwise we'll have an accident. Her hand moved up to feel my hard penis before she moved it away. With a smile in her face she said 'I just wanted to make sure that you still want me.'

The late afternoon traffic was very heavy. We were just limited to small spurts of movement, just from a traffic jam to another and then the next. Night had already fallen by the time that we made it back to Pat's house. Marianne had spent the last hour peacefully sleeping. She didn't even wake up when I finally switched the engine off. I had to gently shake her shoulder before she came back to the land of the living. She stretched like a kitten would do, each group of muscles at a time. 'We have arrived' I said, faithful to my custom of stating the obvious. 

When we rang the bell it was well past seven thirty. Pat opened the door and said 'I was beginning to worry thinking that you could have had an accident. I was going to apologise but before I could open my mouth Marianne said, 'We had a wonderful day! We went bush walking to places really off the beaten track and I'm dead. I'm going to have a shower and straight to bed.' As my daughter started walking Pat said 'Dinner is ready now, better eat before anything else.' Marianne turned and walking backwards said 'I'm not hungry, we had lunch and then more to eat before starting the drive.' Pat only said 'OK!' Turning to me she said, 'Thank you for not disappointing Marianne again. Despite the problems that you and I had, you have always been her hero. Would you like to join us for dinner?' 

I was still fairly haunted by the events of the day and I couldn't see myself sitting at Pat's table, constantly in guard to keep my façade intact. 'Thanks Pat, I would love to do it but, believe me, if Marianne says that she is dead I've already begun to decompose. I had not done so much exercise in a long time and I'm wondering how I'll manage to move tomorrow!' Pat laughed with good humour 'You are obviously changing a lot, but that you have not!' During the years that our marriage lasted she was the athletic one, playing sports, riding a bicycle to work and even finding time to go to a gym twice a week, all that while I would sit at home reading a book. I began to turn to leave when Pat reach out, put her hand on my arm and gave me a kiss on my cheek. 'Thank you again. After today I'm beginning to like you instead of detesting you.' I felt myself blushing and hurried out to hide my embarrassment. 

I'm driving but I'm looking at Marianne defiantly undressing herself in my presence. Now I'm lying down feeling her skin on mine, her youthful determination that knows no boundaries, her body awakening to the world of runaway desire. I can also see Camille stepping out of her dress and walking towards me to impale herself on my erect penis. My mother is screaming to me to repent and go to church to confess my sins while my father smiles and tells me 'Good on you!'

That night I fell into sleep with Camille on one side and Marianne on the other.



Goddess Ch. 04



When the alarm clock went off on Monday and I tried to move fast out of bed my overworked muscles rebelled, screaming in agony. That morning I had a breakfast of aspirin on toast with a coffee chaser. It got better as I started moving, but climbing the two steps to get into the bus on the way to work became a new experience in pain.

I had to cover a press conference that morning and when I arrived back to the office I had a message to call Father Patrick. After being confronted with my daughter's feelings I could not contemplate another session of gilt generation so, I didn't return the call. It was an uneventful day, like if life was giving me a bit of a breathing space to recover from the avalanche of sensations and all the other experiences from the weekend. Not even the news were demanding. There were neither political scandals, like a Minister confessing to making love to his wife on top of the ministerial desk, nor more road deaths than were to be statistically expected. There were no politicians actually carrying their promises through, and Christopher Skase continued to be put forward as an example of good businessman because of his ability to make more money out of nothing. In a nutshell, nothing really happened outside the ordinary.

Relieved by the reassuring dullness of a boring day I bought a cooked chicken and some tomatoes on my way home, looking forward to a relaxed dinner and a well earned rest with a good book in my hands an some good music in the background. I was climbing the stairs to my flat looking carefully at where I was putting my feet, as the light in the first landing was not working. When I arrived to my floor and lifted my eyes, the first thing that I saw was Father Patrick standing in front of my door, waiting. 

'Good evening Franco. I left messages both in your office and in your answering machine, but you never returned them'. I felt both embarrassed and annoyed by his presence. 'There are many things happening at the moment Father and I have not had the time to call'. In his most admonitory tone he said 'It is at times like this that…' He never got to finish his phrase. To my surprise the door of my flat opened and Camille came out, greeting me with a kiss and the words 'Franco, are you going to stand here? You should be hospitable and invite Father Patrick in'. She led the way and we followed. She walked with a sensuality of movement that not even a hermit would have been able to ignore. She had set the table for dinner, with three places. A bottle of red wine was breathing, ready to be poured. She took the chicken from my hands and said 'I have made some potato salad. Please sit down while I serve the chicken.' The domesticity of the scene was overwhelming. No one would have believed that we did not live together, least of all father Patrick who appeared to have lost his ability to talk. 

Camille came to the table with the chicken cut in a tray, surrounded by sliced tomatoes and a bowl with the potato salad. She sat down and said 'Franco, you should have served the wine! Father Patrick seems to need a drink right now'. I looked at him and thought that she was right. Father Patrick was very pale, his eyes following every movement that Camille made. I poured the wine at the same time as Camille served the plates. Father Patrick gulped down half his glass in a single swing, looked at the food and started to say Grace. 'I think that you can spare us the liturgy, don't you?' Camille did not sound aggressive, just matter of fact and, to my surprise Father Patrick complied.

Camille was the only person in that room that was acting in a totally self assured manner. She chatted over trivial matters during the dinner but when we finished eating she said 'I'm sorry that we don't have a dessert, but as a replacement I will give you the facts that made me grow up so far away from any religion'. Father Patrick stood up and said 'I think I will be going now'. Camille's answer to his attempt at making good his escape came in her most commanding tone 'Sit down'. She had eyes full of fire and the pause between 'sit' and 'down' was a very effective messenger of her determination. Father Patrick sat back as if a giant invisible hand had pushed him back onto his chair and Camille began her story.

'When I was twelve years old my mother was an unremitting prude, something that she continues to be today. It soon became clear to me that there was only one reason for her prudishness: Religion. Born from staunch Irish catholic parents she is herself a good catholic that still today abides by the Pope's warped ideology. Anything to do with sex outside the marriage and for the purpose of procreation remains abhorrent to her. In fact, I am totally convinced that she only had sex twice, the first time she fell pregnant with my brother, the second time with me.'

'My father never went to church, but he could do nothing to prevent my mother from taking my brother and myself along every Sunday. Unluckily for him my brother followed her steps and is today a member of Opus Dei. He is also the proud father of four totally dysfunctional children that will need a lot of counselling if they are to have any chance to survive in one piece.'

I'm looking at Father Patrick sitting in his chair. He has developed an instant interest in the rather worn out carpet, his eyes refusing to look at Camille. I wonder if he feels as aroused by her presence as I do. What would he do if Camille were to offer to him the pleasures of the flesh rather than its mortification? 

'When my father and my mother separated, my mother continued to insist that I had to attend mass at least every Sunday. She used to argue with my father that she had to accept me going to a state school rather than the catholic one because of lack of money, but she steadfastly refused to compromise on Sunday church going. At one point things got so bad that my father had a solicitor writing her a letter saying that if she refused him access he would initiate legal proceedings to gain full custody. After that, in the interest of avoiding a court battle it was finally agreed that I would be with my father from Friday afternoons to Monday mornings. My mother knew that my father would not expect me to go to church, as he was not prepared to go himself. So, to satisfy her rather morbid piety I had to go to mass at least one day of the week before school, at the very ungodly hour of seven o'clock in the morning.'

'Even fifteen years ago, at such an early time there were definitely more shepherds than flock. Most of the time it was just me, sitting towards the back, the priest and two altar boys, one who at the time was about my age, the other about three or four years older. The older boy was called Brendan, the son of a very catholic family of Irish stock well known to my mother through the church's Catholic Weekly that seem to be all that the she read. I remember feeling very miffed because she would never have a word of encouragement for me but was always putting them up as examples of what everyone should be like: Pious, pure and God fearing.'

'At eighteen religion had as little appeal to me as it has now, with its litany of prohibitions, its demands of at the best self-sacrifice, at the worst self-punishment, or the constant push for the denial of one's own needs and the like. When I started having sex with my father my dislike for religion grew even further as I discovered every day how much I enjoyed sex. Even at that tender age I thought that nothing that felt so good could be bad. Today I would add for the benefit of those who are still believers that neither God nor mortal would create enjoyment as deep as sex and then forbid people to experience it unless it was done in the context of trying to outdo the Marquis de Sade.' 

'I think that it would have been obvious to anyone who cared to pay a minimum of attention to me that if I was going to church was not because of a belief but only to maintain a resemblance of peace with my mother. It was not surprising then that a couple of days after I had a very erotic medical examination and indeed, weekend, while going through the empty motions in an equally empty church I decided that I would have some fun by taunting the priest with a full confession. I was young then but determined to make him loose his control.'

'The priest was Father Michael, about my own father's age and not at all bad looking. 'Forgive me father because I have sinned' I started and after the standard trivial questions and answers I began telling him how two weeks before I had lost my virginity to my father. I didn't omit any detail; in fact I even tried to make it sexier! I dwelled for a long time in the description of my feelings, how they would like radiate from one spot to encompass my entire body. I don't think that he realised it, but rather than facing the confessional I was facing sideways, keeping my ear as close as possible to the grill. As my story evolved I could hear his breathing getting heavier, and heavier and heavier. When I got to the part of my father and me returning from the doctor's surgery for the second time and kissing each other passionately he had had enough. 'Stop! Stop immediately!' he half cried, half yelled. The door of the confessional flung open and a disheveled priest stumbled out.'

He grabbed my left wrist and bodily lifted me from the kneeler, dragging me at full speed into the sacristy. I got really worried. I thought that I had pushed him far beyond his breaking point, into what I would now describe as a full psychotic episode. I pleaded with him to let me go but it was to no avail.'

'He pushed me in, locked the door and faced me. Looking like a madman he said 'you must be and you shall be punished. Strip naked now!' I was fairly scared and I would have been terrified if I had not seen the two altar boys standing in one of the corners, looking with a great deal of interest and remarkably little surprise. I thought that it would be unlikely that he would murder me in front of witnesses, so I decided to obey. My school uniform had an interminable line of buttons on the front and I started undoing them from the top, one by one until I got to the last one.'

'I raised my eyes and looking directly into the priest's face I helped my uniform slip, first over my left shoulder, then over the right until it fell on the floor. I reached to my back, unhooked my bra and, pushing my shoulders forward let it join the uniform at my feet. Still without moving my eyes from the priest's face I hooked my thumbs on my pants and slowly pushed them down. I took my shoes off and only then I stepped to the side, away from my fallen clothes, my arms hanging alongside my body, without making any attempt at covering myself.'

I can see in my mind Camille standing naked at the age of my daughter, her same desires, her same inquisitive mind and body, her same determination. The events of yesterday come back and so does my erection. What am I going to do with Marianne? Do I wait for the problem to go away? What do I do if it doesn't?

'I could see that my audience was virtually in a hypnotic trance. The priest looked as if he had been nailed to the floor, while the two boys were moving closer, but looking as if they were advancing by the floor moving them rather that by them lifting their feet from the ground in a normal walk.'

'The spell did not last long. There was fire in Father Michael's eyes when he lifted me and laid me on the table in the middle of the room. In what it looked to me a well-practiced action, the two altar boys grabbed my ankles and spread my legs up and out. I felt already aroused and waited for the touch of those three pairs of hands to send me skyrocketing into an orgasm but it was not to be.'

'I felt Father Michael's thumbs forcefully parting my buttocks. I didn't know then what he was going to do and it didn't feel all that bad either. That is, until the pain started. I had hurt a lot when I lost my virginity but this was far worse. He was penetrating me trough my back passage and it felt as if all the pain in the world was concentrating there, as the light of the sun does when passing through a magnifying glass. I screamed I cried and struggled, but they would not let me go until the priest ejaculated. Soon after they left me alone in the room, curled up, still naked on the table, still in pain and crying. When I tried to sit on the edge a shot of pain spread from my buttocks across my whole body. Moving very carefully I lifted myself off the table and used some tissues to wipe myself, noticing that there was a bit of blood on them when I finished. I got dressed and went back into the church to pick up my school bag that had been left at the confessional. Father Michael and the two altar boys were kneeling at the altar, praying and oblivious of the pain they caused, ignoring their profound hypocrisy, blind to the reality around them, ready to enforce on others the standards of behaviour that they never bothered to consider for themselves. They didn't even lift their heads when I walked past them.'

Father Patrick looked up for the first time and half cried, half shouted 'You are lying, you are a perverse liar trying to poison Franco's mind!' He stood up again but Camille made him sit again, this time by just pointing at the chair and saying 'You can check your facts, Father Michael is now the most righteous Bishop Michael O'Reilly, so you could ask him about his predilection for back passages of whatever sex.' Father Patrick went pale but he did sit down and Camille continued with her story. 

'Today, what Father Michael did would not surprise me at all coming from a priest, after all you only have to read the papers an see the stream of claims of sexual abuse and convictions of many clergymen being published almost daily. Fifteen years ago it was a different matter! I suppose that following a tradition that I believe still today continues to be held among many catholic priests and brothers, Father Michael was much more attracted to boys than girls. I suppose that in my case he just worked up a compromise with himself by subjecting me to anal intercourse.'

'When I arrived to school that morning I had to tell my teacher that I had injured a muscle in my leg to explain my difficulties in walking. My lie had to continue, so the reason for my red eyes was just a bad case of hay fever, not my tears of frustration and pain. I would have loved to turn Father Michael in but I already knew that it would be nearly impossible to find anyone who would believe me and that if I did it, my newly established sexual freedom could be brought to the open and quashed. So I kept the pain hidden so life could continue unchanged.'

'Two days later, in one of the rare days in which my mother was not working she answered the phone while I was doing my homework. 'I am sure that she would be delighted' I overheard her saying through the mental fog of trying to maintain my interest in the inane textbook that I was supposed to read. My mother, looking happy, which in itself was a rarer occurrence than her not working, said to me from the door 'better have a shower and get changed. That was Brendan O'Reilly. His family has invited you for dinner. They'll be here in one hour to pick you up'.

'The images of being held down came rushing in and I could fell the pain again. I didn't want to go; I didn't trust any of them. Nevertheless, like the good daughter that I was I got up, had a shower and changed. The days were getting warmer so I put on a summer cotton dress and went back to my studies. My mother, to my utter surprise came over and said 'come and I'll put some make up on you. The O'Reilly's are a pillar of our community and they are exemplary Catholics. Father Michael of our parish is a member of the same family. You must look your best and behave impeccably!' Was she just dressing the lamb for the slaughter? I didn't know and I couldn't tell her so, once again, I complied.'

'Soon the doorbell rang. Too soon I thought. My mother called me and we opened the door together. Brendan was standing there, expressionless. A taxi was waiting. While shaking her hand he said to my mother 'my father apologises for not being able to come, but he has been called to an emergency in the hospital'. I didn't believe it and I could feel Father Michael penetrating my back passage while Brendan was holding me down, watching. My mother, all milk and honey said 'I understand and there is no need to apologise.' 

'The taxi ride took more than half an hour. We lived a considerable distance away from the affluent neighbourhoods. Brendan's father, James was, by any standards, rich. His parents had developed a rural empire with properties in the richest parts of Queensland, New South Wales and Victoria and he had consolidated his fortune with large industrial interests and straight ownership of a private hospital. Brendan kept looking through the cab's window while I just watched the traffic ahead. The driver must have wandered why not a word was being exchanged between his two young passengers.'

'We arrived to a house big enough to be a church with a front garden protected by a high and ornate steel fence. Brendan paid the driver. The taxi fare was more than what I was getting as my allowance for a full year. He held the door of the car open for me to get out. He was acting like a sheep but I already knew the wolf behind. Father Michael was forcing my buttocks open and I could feel the cold and hard table against the skin of my back.'

'He took a leather key case from his pocket and unlocked the front door, holding it open and motioning me in, then closed it and locked it again. His hand took my wrist with a strong grip. Father Michael is dragging me from the confessionary. 'My father and my mother went for a week to one of our properties, only my sister Annie is here'. My heart sank. I fully understood that I was the only remaining sheep and I also knew that I could not physically fight Brendan and win.'

'We climbed up a seemingly never-ending staircase and into a bedroom about the size of my mother's apartment. I heard the door closing behind me. Annie was waiting for us. She was four years older than her brother, very attractive and, as I was to learn later, doing well at university. Wearing a lacy body suite she raised from the bed and came to meet us. 'Hello Camille, Brendan told me about you'. Her voice was mellifluous and her eyes were assessing me. 'Lift your arms' she said and I did not dare to disobey her. As my hands reached up her brother, standing behind me lifted my dress over my head. I was surprised. I expected that Brendan would be enacting all his sexual fantasies with me but I didn't really know what to do when Annie was the one calling the shots. My bra and my pants follow my dress in rapid succession.'

'Don't look so surprised' Annie said. 'I like both, boys and girls and so does my good brother. Brendan gets an abundance of boys in all his church related activities but not too many girls. I can have as many men as I want at university, but I have to keep the appearances, and there are not so many discreet girls, so I let him have sex with me and in exchange, he brings me girls who know how to keep their mouths shut'. This was said in a totally matter of fact fashion, but I could feel the subtle threat behind it.'

'She took my hand and led me to the bed. She slipped out of her body suite and lay down by my side, running her hands all over my body. I was confused. I didn't dislike it but I could not completely set aside all the brain washing that I had been subjected to. One thing was having sex with a man, even if he was my father but… I looked at Annie's eyes and said 'what about all the teachings of the church?' She laughed. 'That's to keep the masses controlled. No person with brains within the church follows what the Pope says. They didn't do it in the past, they don't do it now, they never will. Take Father Michael for example. He is our uncle and he pays less attention to the Pope and the instructions of the saints than I do. Or if you want to dig deeper in history, read a detailed account of the life of Cardinal Richelieu. This does not mean that we don't believe in God, all the contrary. We believe and we pray to him with all our heart and we know that he will forever protect us because we are his chosen people. The rest of the flock doesn't need a God, they only require a shepherd to move them around from pasture to pasture. Besides, they are happy just providing us with their fleece so, why change it?'




Goddess Ch. 04



It seems to me that those who think that I am living in a different planet are right! I never thought of something like this being possible. I may be naïve but, is the world out there as crude and ugly as this? Do we really live in a never ending ocean of hypocrisy?

'Even at that age I was far more self-assured than my peers, but at that point I was speechless. Annie stopped talking. She had other uses for her mouth. She was sucking one of my nipples and it felt as if her tongue was caressing every part of it at the same time. She was definitely very skilled and I must say that I did enjoy it and, even against my better judgement I eventually had an orgasm. Annie told me to lay down on my stomach and started stroking my back with just the tip of her fingers.' 

'I was abandoning myself to the pleasurable sensations that I was experiencing when I felt Brendan pushing my buttocks open. I screamed 'No!' but he didn't stop. Annie said to him 'You are not going to be so beastly as to take her back passage without a lubricant!' 'Father Michael did it and she took it.' Annie said 'I don't care, when Father Michael did it to me he used KY jelly and if you are going to do it you will use it too.' Brendan backed off. I was going from surprise to surprise and in disbelief I said to Annie 'He did it to you too?' 'Yes, I was younger than you, not quite twelve when he did it.' She turned to her brother to ask 'Brendan, how old were you when our revered uncle fucked you?' I thought that she was putting me on but Brendan answered 'Eleven, it was on the first day that I was Altar Boy'.

'I felt Brendan fingers, feeling cold with lubricating jelly working their way into my back passage. I tensed and tried to move away when Annie held me down saying 'Camille, get it right, I stopped my brother just from taking your back passage without a lubricant, not from taking you back passage at all. This one you will gracefully take in you chin'. I was still sore from Father Michael's ministrations and, although Brendan wasn't enormous he was big enough to hurt me and I cried with deep sobs. But my hurt was far beyond the physical pain, it was the feeling of being forced, which was the same as having my human condition denied to me. I have had anal sex may times since then and I actually find it very pleasurable, but I will only have it when I want it, not when it is imposed upon me.'

'Without realising it, my education was advancing in leaps and bounds. It wasn't until six years later when I was travelling through some forgotten corner of Latin America that I could understand that the day I met Annie I met face to face for the first time with the most complete form of Fascism. At that point I also began to understand that religions in general were no more, nor less than elaborate mechanisms of social control, always ready to become allies with the powers that had the most to lose if the status quo was not maintained.'

'I had to continue to go to church until I turned sixteen, when I said to my mother that if she insisted on me having to do it I would leave her house and she would never see me again. She claimed to be devastated by my lack of religion but soon learnt to cope. One thing is for certain, in those three and a half years of continued church attendance I never again went to confession, nor I allowed anything that the church would say to affect my life. In fact, I have always made an effort to act in the opposite direction to the demands and teachings of the Vatican and it has always worked very well for me.'

'I have never stopped experimenting with all aspects of my sexuality. I couldn't say how many lovers besides my father I had in those very intense four and a half years until I graduated from High School. One thing I can definitely say: I never again gave any of the members of the O'Reilly family half the chance to be alone with me in a private place.'

'Since I completed my training in psychology I have done a substantial amount of clinical work with all sort of people. Time and time again I come across Catholics and even ex-Catholics with a number of problems, some of them very severe, all centered around intense guilt, specially relating to all aspects of sexuality. As a rule of thumb, three out of four of those cases are women who had been bombarded with the do's and don't –specially the latter, of religious demands and accepted it for fear of being rejected, of 'not belonging', of being ostracised. They invariably developed into beings afraid of experiencing, afraid of trying. In fact they grow up to be just afraid of living. In some cases it was as if they were expecting that the nuns, priests and the whole paraphernalia of the industry of religion would jump from behind the curtains of their bedrooms and condemn them in disgust if they gave free reign to their sexual feelings.' 

'In a way I have to thank the hypocrisy and double standards of the church for setting me free. Father Michael may have half broken my sphincters, but he failed to make even an insignificant dent in my spirit. I was one of the lucky ones who didn't break but many more did, joining the ranks of those helping to perpetuate a state if inequity from generation to generation. Like my brother with his children.'

'In fact, the Catholic Church did far more than setting me free. It made me understand that the struggle against the Father Michaels of this world will never stop. On the contrary, I see it becoming more and more intense. Anyone who reads the business sections of any paper and has a mild interest in history can see that capital is now concentrating day by day. It is growth by acquisition. We live in the culture the take-over and that will only increase with time. Gone are the days of the baby boom when wealth was being re-distributed. The gap between those who have and those who have not has continued to increase during the past ten years, ever at an increased pace, specially since the god of economic rationalism and global capitalism has been enshrined in the minds of politicians and overpaid public servants alike. I have seen lately how the many little Hitlers and little Mussolinis among the rich are growing in stature, bit by bit, more often than not helped by the dispossessed that swallow their propaganda. No, unfortunately I don't think that the fight against Fascism stopped with the end of the Second World War. It will have to continue and cannot be slowed down. If we fail to stand up to it, we would have to accept the eventual wholesale denial of our human condition.'

Camille stood up and said to Father Patrick 'You mainly remained silent with the exemption of your feeble attempt at denial. If you have ever cared to open you eyes you would acknowledge that I'm right.' Father Patrick remained sitting down, without uttering a single word, but looking intently at Camille. She moved to stand facing him just two feet away and said 'I'm really hot, I think summer is coming early this year' I saw her hands reaching for her back and I heard the muffled sound of the zipper sliding down. Seconds later she was naked and Father Patrick's gaze was once again concentrating on the carpet, his lips moving in a silent prayer. Camille reached out and forced his head up. He closed his eyes as somebody would do coming into the bright sunshine from the darkness of an underground mine 'Father Patrick, are you a prude? If you believe that God created us all, you should not be disturbed by nudity. On the contrary, you should worship your God's creation, so stop and look at me'. With a crimson face he slowly opened his eyes to be greeted by the magnificent sight of a naked Camille. She took Father Patrick's hand and motioned him to stand up. I watched in total fascination. He was acting as obediently as I had, as incapable of doing anything against Camille's wishes as I was. She put his left hand on her right breast and pushed his other hand between her legs. Father Patrick sighed. With a soft voice Camille said, 'You are very hot now. I can feel it. Join me by taking your clothes off.' I could not believe what was happening. Father Patrick undressed himself completely as if in a trance. He had a full erection and Camille hugged him, and pressing her skin against his she gently walked him towards the bed.

I continued to watch them in amazement. I had never seen other people having sex, not even in a movie. I felt incredibly aroused and ridden by jealousy at the same time. Camille was guiding Father Patrick through what could have been called 'How to Go From Celibacy to Sexual Expertise in One Easy Lesson'. She was even preventing him from exploding into a blaze of almost half a century of accumulated desire by squeezing his penis every time that he was about to ejaculate. It was an erotic ballet that just lacked the music. Silently I got up and careful not to disturb them I went to my stereo and soon the sensuous music of Vivaldi was increasing the arousal of the three of us to an unbearable level. 

While Camille was riding Father Patrick as she rod me in the bush she looked at me and softly but clearly said 'Join us now'. Full of uncertainty I undressed. Totally self-conscious I stood naked on the side of the bed, not knowing what to do or what was expected of me. Camille laid down on her back, holding Father Patrick's hand and said 'First go down on me for a while.' I obeyed, soon my tongue darting between her labia and her clitoris. Before long she said 'Come inside me now and move very slowly'. I had an erection so hard that it was hurting me and I wanted to go fast but I obeyed. I started softly pinching one of her nipples and she sighted. Suddenly her hand was taking my other hand and guiding it to grab Father Patrick's penis. It felt moist with Camille's juices. I tried to pull my hand away but not only her hand kept mine in place, but started moving it up and down. After a while, her hand moved away but I didn't stop mine. The three of us were now totally intertwined. I was fucking Camille while with my left hand I was pinching, caressing and kneading her right breast and my right hand was dedicated to masturbating Father Patrick. Camille had half turned around and was partly sucking, partly biting Father Patrick's right nipple. All this time this dedicated Redemptorist priest just stayed motionless, his eyes closed, his breathing heavy, taking it all in, without any fire or brimstone left on him. 

I reached the point where I could no longer control myself. Both my hands cupped Camille's breasts and my rhythm accelerated to a frenzy. Within seconds my semen inundated her. Suddenly, tired beyond belief I moved to lay on her side. Her legs still wide open, Camille whispered 'Come inside me Patrick and fuck me'. Never before and never since have I found anybody capable of sounding so commanding while whispering as Camille sounded that night. As the biblical Lazarus, Father Patrick obeyed. In a way, by fucking her he was walking for the first time in his life, no longer a cripple, his erect penis pushing away his lifetime crutches. I saw Camille's hands reaching for the hips of Father Patrick to guide him on a faster motion. I took her nipple in my mouth and tried to replicate her description of Annie's technique. I don't know if I fully succeeded, but judging from the sounds she made I must have come a good part of the way. I was very absorbed in what I was doing when Father Patrick's floodgates containing his sexual repression opened with a very primeval scream that seemed to last for ever. I jumped and saw him pushing so hard inside Camille that it seemed he wanted his entire body to penetrate her. I looked at her to see her body arching whilst a more subdued cry of joy announced to the world her orgasm. Three spent bodies were then lying on the bed.

Satiated and exhausted I fell into a sleep full of wonderful dreams. When I half walked up, I could feel through my closed eyes the early morning light. I went to hug Camille and as I did it I opened my eyes. Father Patrick and I jumped away from each other so hard that we both fell off the opposite sides of the bed. Camille was nowhere to be seen. Looking back at those days now, I can see the humour of it all, but at that time is was a most difficult moment. Father Patrick and myself hurried to our clothes and got dressed, facing away from each other. I started making a coffee and some toasts. I set two cups and plates on the table and motioned Father Patrick to sit down. With his head down he said 'I don't think that I can stay for breakfast'. At that point the utter stupidity of it all hit me hard for the first time, and holding my head high I said 'It's a bit late now for shyness, don't you reckon?'

I can see the tears welling up in Father Patrick's eyes but I feel no pity. I don't feel anger or the wish for revenge either. I am having the experience of peace entering my body and my mind for the first time in my life. My gilt is gone. I can start to be myself now. 

I put my arm over Father Patrick's shoulder and guided him to sit at the table. I poured two coffees, gave him one and sat down myself. We looked at each other. Father Patrick at that point was crying with silent tears that rolled down his face into the shadow of his beard and beyond. He was the personification of despair. I sipped the hot, life giving coffee and said 'Believe me if I tell you that I can really sympathise with the way you feel. Camille's appearance in my life has triggered countless changes. I went through a time of hell on earth, but now I'm beginning to get to know myself better and the world around me is slowly changing for the better, no longer looking the foreboding place that used to be.'

Father Patrick took a deep breath and started to talk. 'I was born at the time of the great depression. Even without the help of the worldwide depression my parents were very poor. As a child growing up in a country with limited opportunities for the dispossessed I had the option of either joining the IRA or the priesthood. My father had fought in WWI and had more than his share of killings and he did not approved of Irish murdering Irish, so religion won the day.'

Father Patrick looks as if he is at the beginning of a journey that he feels he has to make, but he has no maps of the roads and probably does not even know how to drive or what plane, train or bus to take.

 

'I went on to a seminarist college as soon as I came out of the village school at twelve. I can see my mother and my father waving me good bye at the station because they did not have the money to buy the railway tickets to come with me. My sweaty hands were clutching the small suitcase containing all my possessions and my eyes were clouded with tears. All the way to the second class carriage I kept trying to look at my parents and, at the same time keep sight of the forbidding looking back of Father Brendan who was taking me away from the small world that I knew and into the great unknown.' 

He started drinking his coffee; his eyes lost in the distant past and I let him be. He waked up from his reverie with a shudder and continued. 'I didn't see my parents again until after I was ordained as a priest. In all those years of isolation, study and often mortification of the flesh I was taught about a world where God and Evil were engaged in a never-ending battle in an eternal war where we were God's soldiers. We were also taught that women, from Eve onwards were ready-made agents of the devil, always prepared to tempt us to depart from the teachings of God. I am fifty-five years old and in all those years I never touched a woman. In fact, I never even touched myself, always afraid of my body becoming the Devil's Playground instead of an instrument of God's greater design.' 

Is he talking to the cup of coffee, to himself or to me? I was born on the other side of the world, not so poor that we could not buy a train ticket, but the same ideas were drilled onto us. I made a career in journalism, however meager it may be, but the guilt and fears that were planted on me became my travel companions for all those so many years! 

'Last night all the walls of my fortress collapsed like those of Jericho. I made love to a woman for the first time and I can only say that I have never before experienced such an incredible pleasure in my life. However, I also feel condemned and lost. All my years of study are proving useless for the task of helping me find an answer to what happened just a few hours ago'. Father Patrick stood up with the movement of an old and tired man and with a sad expression in his face said 'I used to call you "my son". What am I going to call you now?' I raised from my chair and said 'Why don't you try "my friend" for a change?' We walked together to the door and the tight hug we gave each other was the most natural thing to do.

I remained standing in the landing, listening to the steps of Father Patrick fading away until I heard the front door open and close. When I went back to a much-needed shower and a shave I was acting like if I was a robot, my thoughts totally immersed in the events of the night before. I had always thought that two were company and three were a crowd, but now I was finding out that I was deeply enjoying the company of a crowd. I wandered where all this would take me and decided that to swim against the current was too exhausting and presented a greater risk of drowning than just moving along with the flow, so I jumped in my car to go to work. 

Driving past Father Patrick's church I saw that it looked still closed. While stopped in the heavy morning traffic I saw an old woman dressed in black from head to toe climbing the steps as she had probably done every day for most of her life. She walked to the door and unsuccessfully tried to push it open. With a bewildered expression she turned to look around at the top of the steps, as if expecting a priest to come running to save her from the break in her routine. All she could have seen was the rush hour people hurrying to their jobs, oblivious of the church, let alone the solitary figure in black standing in front of it looking lost.

Father Patrick

Feeling desperate and confused, I started running as soon as I left the block of units where Franco lived and I didn't stop until I got to the church. In desperation I kneeled at the altar and prayed for God to give me guidance. Nothing worked, so I decided to go and see Bishop O'Reilly for support and advice. I rushed out and jumped on the bus when it was about to move away from the stop. My parish was not wealthy enough to have a car, and I had never had the need to learn to drive either. I prayed, with my eyes closed during the entire bus ride. It was just 8:30 when I rang the bell at the Bishop's residence. Storm clouds had moved in fast and rain was beginning to fall. I waited for almost five minutes before I rang again and a couple of minutes later, a young and attractive man who must have spent many hours a day in a gym opened the door. Visibly annoyed he asked me 'What do you want Father?' He was brusque and impolite but I was beyond caring. 'I need to see His Eminence, please'. He frowned and asked me 'Do you have an appointment?' I lowered my head and said 'No, this is an emergency'. I was not going to get any sympathy from him. He said 'They all say the same. Give me your name and I will ask the Bishop if he wants to see you'. He didn't invite me in and he didn't leave the door open either. It was raining more heavily now and water was running over my face and the back of my head. Before the door re-opened I was completely soaked. The young Adonis said 'Come in and wait standing in the tiled part of the floor until you stop dripping. I don't want the carpet getting wet'. With those words he vanished.

I waited for more than half an hour before the Bishop's secretary, the very old Father Anselmo came to collect me. He had come from Spain as a fairly young priest and had served the previous three bishops. In those thirty-five years he had earned a reputation of being a strange combination of very conservative, fair and compassionate. I had heard before that he had often got into conflicts because he could not reconcile those three traits into one single line of behaviour. 'How long have you been waiting here?' he asked with a frown. 'More than half an hour.' With anger in his voice he whispered 'Ese malparido de Wayne!' I could not understand what he had said, so I asked 'Sorry Father, what did you say?' He shook his head before he answered me 'Never mind, when I get upset my Spanish comes back to the fore. Come with me. Monsignor is finishing some urgent work, so we have time to have a cup of tea in the meantime.' I followed him. He walked with rapid steps and virtually stormed into the kitchen, where Adonis was sitting reading the morning paper. 'Wayne, you are employed here as the housekeeper. God surely knows what arrangement you have with Monsignor and I have a very good idea of what that is, but if you ever again do what you have done to Father Patrick I will personally kick you out of here.' The youth raised in defiance and said 'You wouldn't dare and Monsignor would not let you!' Father Anselmo, with the expression of an avenging angel hissed 'Wayne, you are the housekeeper. Being also the bishop's bed keeper will not save you. Bring two cups of tea to my office. Now!' Wayne pretty face went pale and we left.




Goddess Ch. 04



Father Anselmo's domain was a large room where every space available on three of the walls was lined with overflowing bookcases while the fourth was occupied by a massive compacting filing monstruosity. There was a desk covered with papers and files, two armchairs and a small coffee table. As he motioned me to one of the armchairs Father Anselmo said 'Wayne didn't tell me that you were waiting to see the bishop until five minutes ago. Every day that passes by he is getting more obnoxious. Being the bishop's protegee Wayne wants to do whatever pleases him and I'm not prepared to see a son of Sodom ruling this household.' Despite my recent exposure to the ways of the world I didn't understand what was going on and naively asked 'What do you mean? ' Father Anselmo left out a sigh sounding like a mix of frustration and resignation and said, 'Wayne is the bishop's lover. But, tell me father, what have brought you here today?' I hesitated and the knock on the door gave me some breathing space. Wayne walked in with a tray holding two cups, a teapot, two porcelain cups, a glass jar with milk and a plate with biscuits. He put it all on the small table and left, without one word being exchanged. As the door closed behind him Father Anselmo poured the tea and offered me a cup. The smell of the tea reached me and I looked at the steam raising from its surface. 

I started talking, telling Father Anselmo of my turmoil, my doubts and contradictions. He listened attentively, never interrupting me. My feelings, converted into words kept pouring out of me in an unstoppable flood. When I halted my barrage I felt drained but more alert than I had been all morning. Talking to Father Anselmo had helped me soothe my anxiety enough to allow me to think. Father Anselmo finally broke his long silence. 'I don't think that seeing His Eminence will do you any good. I can tell you what he will say, word for word. It is the standard answer the Church has given to many priests before you. They included those who like you succumbed to sex, those who had a crisis of faith and the like: "I'll organise for you a transfer to a parish in Papua New Guinea where you can do God's work and pray for enlightenment." Of course, you could easily replace PNG for Africa, or a village in Bolivia or any other isolated outpost in a forgotten corner of the world. Is that what you would like to do?' I slowly shook my head before answering 'A week ago I would have said, "YES". Even two days ago I would have embraced that alternative with all my heart. Today I'm not sure that that is what I want to do.' Father Anselmo looked at me in my eyes for a few seconds and said 'Take a holiday. I will organise a replacement for your parish. Don't go to any of the religious institutions for your break. I have a friend who has a cabin in the south coast and I'm sure he would not mind you using it. Sometimes he goes fishing there on a weekend, but the place can easily accommodate two.' As he got up from his seat he added 'If you meet him, don't talk about religion. He fought in the Spanish Civil war on the Republican side, so he hates the church.' With a smile of mischief in his eyes he said 'He only likes me because he can speak in Spanish with me.'

Father Anselmo sat behind his desk and dialed a number. 'Buenos días José…Pués coño si no reconoces quién habla debe ser porque no te has lavado las orejas…' He left out a belly laugh and kept going talking in Spanish at a faster rate than a machinegun. Five minutes later he hanged up and with a great deal of affection in his voice he shook his head and said with a smile 'He is a blasphemous rascal!' He took some time to write something on a piece of paper and handed it to me. It had an address, a rough map and a name. 'There is a coach service that goes to Naruma. You will have to walk a good distance to get to my friend's place but it is well worth the effort. On the other side of the road you will see a house with a garden that look out of place in the bush. The woman who lives there will give you the key to the cabin and, if you need them, final directions to get to your destination. José said that there is plenty of fish in the water and enough fishing gear and a rowboat to catch them. You will also find a backpack that you will need to carry your provisions to your cabin from the town. You are welcome to stay for as long as you want.' He opened a drawer on his desk and handed me an envelope saying 'You will need money. There are two hundred dollars in this envelope and if you stay for a longer period I'll try to get you some more. Now go. Pack whatever civilian clothes you have and get to that coach terminal in a hurry. I know that there is one leaving at lunchtime. If you move fast you can catch it.' I felt overwhelmed. Tears welled in my eyes and I could not even talk. I started to say something but Father Anselmo dismissed me with a pat on my shoulder as he moved towards the door. 'Hurry up, you have a coach to catch' were his parting words at the front door.

It didn't take me long to pack. I only had two pairs of jeans that I had used when doing maintenance around the church and three work shirts. Shorts that I used when paying basketball with the local Youth Club and a pair of tennis shoes. I put one of the work shirts on with my only pair of trousers, put in my pocket all my money, which amounted to the royal sum of two hundred and twenty dollars, locked the door and headed for the coach terminal on one side of Central Station.

I got my ticket only a few minutes before the departing time and I went to the waiting area. My travelling companions were a motley crowd of young and very old people. When the coach arrived I decided to sit at the back, hopping to avoid socialising with other passengers. The last person to come on board was a girl wearing a leather jacket and a very short skirt. As the Coach's door closed behind her and we started to move she looked around and, without any hesitation came and sat by my side. I looked through the window at the unappealing dirty façade of a building that would forever remind Australians that they had been born as a colony of the British Empire. A young voice cut trough my reverie. 'My name is Sharon, what's yours?' I turned to encounter a pair of intelligent blue eyes that looked capable of seeing through anything. 'I'm Patrick. Where are you going?' Playfully, she almost glided down the seat, her short skirt moving even higher and said. 'I'm going to Narooma to meet my boyfriend.' She looked barely out of her puberty, which prompted to ask her 'How old are you?' With pride in her voice she said 'I turned sixteen today and I have left my parents for good. I wrote them a note telling them that now they cannot stop me from going to live with Sean. Two years ago my mother discovered Sean and me in my bedroom when I was just finishing taking my clothes off but before we could do anything and all hell broke loose. Since then my parents have watched every move I make and I could not cope with it any more.' Her passion was evident in every word. I asked her 'Tell me, who is Sean?' A big smile lit her face when she started talking about him, warmth oozing from her. 'He is wonderful. He was living in Sydney with my neighbours while he finished his university studies. He is now twenty-seven and living in Narooma. I kept sending him letters for all this time. Unfortunately my parents must have intercepted all of his responses because I never heard from him.' I thought that perhaps Sean was no longer interested in Sharon, but I knew that I could not even insinuate that possibility without her becoming upset and a miserable travelling companion, so I said 'I'm also going to Narooma. I'll be staying in a cabin on the southern side of the inlet for some time, so you and Sean are welcome to visit me at any time.'

The Sydney traffic was atrocious. The coach seamed to move only a few metres and grind to yet another halt. The emotional marathon that I had been running for the last twenty-four hours, combined with insufficient sleep, finally caught up with me and, without even being conscious of it I drifted into a deep, forgiving sleep.

I was dreaming that a hand was shaking my shoulder and a voice was saying 'C'mon Patrick, wake up!' It took a lot to realise that it was not a dream but Sharon trying to make me come back to life. When I opened my eyes I saw the last of the passengers leaving the coach. I rubbed my eyes while Sharon got up and said 'we are in Kiama and we have fifteen minutes to have some tea or coffee.' We came out of the coach and into an old style shop that not only sold drinks and sandwiches, but also doubled up as a news agency and even had an area set up as a haberdashery. We sat down at a table to have a good cup of tea that was just what was needed to wash down the stale sandwich that came with it. We had not even finished our meager meal when the driver started calling us all back on board. 

I had never travelled down the south coast from Sydney and neither had Sharon. We were both overwhelmed by scenery that defies the ability of language to describe beauty. The immensity of the sea was insinuating itself to us at every turn of the road, making us feel in awe. It had been an unusually wet weather and the richness of millions of different tones of green was framing the deep navy blue colour of the water. At a time when we were closer to the shore we opened the window and we could smell the salty air loaded with iodine. The air rushing into our faces as the coach moved on felt clean and crisp. I could almost feel it instantly cleansing decades of breathing inner city air.

Engrossed on the ever-changing landscape the miles slept by, unnoticed and soon we were stopping at Batemas Bay. An hour and a half later we had arrived to Narooma. Sharon and I bade each other good bye and I started my journey towards the cabin where I would begin to draw a new chart for my life. 

It took me an hour of walking at a good pace to get to the house described by Father Anselmo. In the mist of almost virgin, primeval bush stood this large house, surrounded by a manicured garden where trees and flowers were planted in full agreement with the laws of symmetry. As I walked up the concrete driveway I could smell roses and jasmines, lilies and violets. There wasn't a gum tree to be seen in the entire property. A large bronze ship bell was hanging on the side of the front door and when I hit it, it's sound engulfed me like a blanket, wrapping itself around me before reaching out to awaken the neighbourhood of birds, kangaroos and the odd cow. Just before I struck the bell again, an old labrador jumped on me while furiously waving its tail, obviously determined to lick me to death. As I was trying to somehow counteract this onslaught of canine affection a woman's voice came to my rescue. 'Killer! Stop that! Down!' The dog reluctantly let go and the owner of the voice came into focus. 'Hello! You must be Patrick. I'm Diane. Don José rang me this morning to let me know that you would be coming today.' She was perhaps in her forties and smelled of cow manure, after probably giving her plants a last feed as night was beginning to fall. She shook my hand with the strength of somebody used to heavy physical work. Before I had a chance to answer she continued 'Give me a second and I'll get the key for you'. She ran inside the house and came out seconds later with a key tied up to a lanyard and a plastic bag with fresh bread and a torch. 'Don José asked me to buy some bread for you. If you need anything just drop by.' I was almost speechless and started saying thanks but she interrupted me. 'Listen, it's nothing. Don José is by now a good friend and this is the least the I can do for you anyway.' She seemed embarrassed by my attempts at showing my gratitude. She walked with me to the other side of the road to show me a narrow track leading towards the water. Pointing at the path, she said 'Don José's cabin is almost a mile down that way. You will pass in front of one other house on your right. The cabin is about half a mile after that, right on the point. Have a nice stay and good fishing.' With my bag and the bread on one hand I put the torch under my arm to shake her hand again. 'Thank you Diane, You don't know how thankful I am for your kindness.' She didn't answer me with words, just waved her other hand in dismissal and pressed mine that little bit harder.

I walked into the darkness, only broken by the short blade of light from the torch. The road followed the coastline and as it curved to the left I could see the lights of the town reflecting on the water on the other side of the inlet. I sensed rather than saw the house on my right. With the moon not yet up it was just a darker area of the sky. I walked faster, anxious to get there. As I was approaching a full moon raised over the hill to reveal the cabin just twenty or thirty yards away. In the soft light it looked like paradise on earth.

I unlocked the door and hesitated for a few seconds before opening it. I could sense that this was not just stepping into another man's house, it was more as stepping out of the known universe and into the deep void of the unknown. I switched the light on and a warm room with light timber paneled walls beckoned me. The cabin was simple, but elegantly set up, with polished timber floors and varnished pine furniture. There was a large room, combining kitchen, dining and living areas, with a large veranda overlooking the water, two bedrooms and a bathroom with a laundry inside it. All available walls in the living area were covered with bookshelves full of books. I started looking at the titles, some of them in Spanish, some in English and yet others in French. I could see an eclectic mind being fed by so many different topics. A philosophy book by Heideger rested alongside an art book on the paintings of Goya followed by a novel by John Fowles. The complete works of Sigmund Freud was preceded by the Kama Sutra and followed by The Story of O, a book on witchcraft and another on the history of wine. There were also books by Kafka and other authors that I had never heard of, like Machado, Federico Garcia Lorca, Gabriel Garcia Marques and the like.

I was exhausted. I found some tined fish and I just ate it with bread. Before I went to bed I prayed for a long time, but I didn't feel the peace that prayers had always brought to me. I could see that I was going through the mechanics of reciting the well-known litany but they did not bring to me the feeling of peace and security that I had always experienced in the past. Camille kept coming into my senses all the time. I knew that she was not there, but I could feel her presence along side me more than the presence of God.

I had a fitful sleep and woke up to see the light of dawn just showing over the low hills that kept the sea out of sight. I jumped out of bed as I had done every day for so many decades, ready to have my breakfast before the first mass of the morning. Today it was different. My religious wardrobe was nowhere near me and, for the first time in my adult life, I was not going to say mass either. 

I had my early breakfast of dry bread and black tea sitting on the veranda, seeing the sun rise, from a pink light to it's full blinding glory. The birds started their choir of good morning calls while a sea eagle glided thirty feet over the water in search of its morning feed. 

Even though I was feeling like an intruder, I had a closer look around me. I found the backpack and checked the gas bottles outside, finding them bot full. Knowing that I had no routine to adhere to it took me more than half an hour to decide what I was going to do. It was obvious that I had to shop for food, so I donned the backpack and started my long walk to town. There was not a cloud in the sky and the air tasted clean. As I got to the road Diane was already working on her garden. She saw me and greeted me with a wave of her hand. I waived back and she started coming towards the gate. When we were still a fair way away she yelled 'G'day. Do you have hat?' Her question took me by surprise. I shook my head and continued walking towards her. As I approached her she added 'You haven't been to the country before, have you?' I started answering as I got to the gate against which Diane was by now leaning. 'I was born in the country in Ireland but I must say I have not lived out of a city since I was about twelve.' She smiled and said 'It shows! Wait here for a minute and I'll get you a hat. On a day like today you would have your brains cooking if you don't wear one.' She walked fast to the house while Killer tried unsuccessfully to jump over to my side of the fence when I stopped patting his head. 

Diane came back with a faded khaki hat that looked like an army surplus item. 'This is no fancy Akubra but it will keep the sun out and you don't need to bring it back. I'll come handy when you go out fishing.' Without giving me the time to thank her she pointed at the backpack and said 'Going shopping?' I nodded my head at the same time as I said 'Thank you Diane. You are too kind.' She dismissed my comment with a wave of her hand and said 'If you need any heavy stuff let me know, and I'll get it for you next time I go to town. Now enjoy your walk!' With this she started back to her garden, just waving to my 'Thank you again!' as she walked. I put the hat on and started walking. I could feel the tingle of the sun on my skin and thought that Diane was right. My brains would have cooked without protection. 

As I got my walk to a comfortable rhythm I started to feel happier. It felt strange, I thought. For the first time I started feeling the messages of my body. I felt my foot hitting the dirt road and the little pebbles on the other side of my tennis shoes. I could even feel the air entering my lungs and the blood running through my veins, pushed by the strong beating of my heart. 

When I arrived at the bridge over the inlet I had to wait as it was opened to let a sailing boat out. I looked at the man and the woman on board, relaxed while motoring to sea, oblivious of the rest of the world, only concerned with the most elementary task of surviving the elements, rather than trying to work out what is right or wrong in priest's life!

The traffic starting over the bridge brought me back from my reverie and I started my journey once again. I found a small supermarket opposite an ugly caravan park as well as a bakery and a small butcher shop. I was definitely not going to go hungry, even if my success as a fisherman was not all that great. I was coming out of the shops with a full load in my backpack when I saw Sharon, still wearing the same clothes, sitting on her bag on the side of the road, her head buried between her hands, the living image of despair. As I approached her I could see her shaking with her sobs. I sat by her side and putting my hand on her shoulder said 'Remember me, I'm Patrick'. She looked at me and reached out with even more tears welling in her eyes. I cuddled her, my hand caressing her hair and waited. She finally said 'I couldn't find Sean's place last night, and I slept on the park close to the sea. I finally found his home. When I knocked on the door a woman opened it and asked me what I wanted. I said that I wanted to see Sean and she asked me what for. I got a bit pissed off and said that it was none of her business but then…' She started crying again and it took some time for her to start talking again '…then she said that it was her business because she was his wife!' Sharon wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing her make up across her face. 'I left running and I only stopped when I could run no longer.' I got up and offering my hand to her said 'OK while you sort things up you can come to were I'm staying and at least have a shower and a decent meal. Do you feel like walking something like a mile and a half?' She took my hand to stand up, picked up her bag and we started walking in silence. 




Goddess Cuckolds Slave with Two Men



The morning begins as it always does, with the sound of the alarm muffled by your thighs pressing against my ears, and my mouth opening wide to accept the soft, luscious flesh of your pussy. I grasp the headboard, as I was told to – I'm not allowed to struggle – and look up at your face smiling down at me, as you tell me "good morning" by filling my mouth with your golden nectar, and close your eyes, relaxing and enjoying the feel of my lips wrapped around your labia and clit, and the soft sounds of me gulping down my daily morning gift.

 "Today's the day," you purr, sliding forward slightly, letting your labia envelop my nose as you reach back to grasp your cheeks, pulling them apart briefly to let my mouth between them. My mouth is still open, and I suckle and lap tenderly at your asshole, and push my tongue into you. "My bulls will be here within the hour, and you're going to prepare them to fuck your Goddess," you murmur, relishing the twists and pushes of my tongue inside you, increasingly more desperate as I begin to run out of breath.

 You lift up briefly, letting me get a quick gasp of air before you lower yourself onto my face, grinding your clit' slowly back and forth across the bony ridge of my nose. "Mmm, that's it, whore, make your Goddess cum," you whimper, feeling my tongue dance against the tight muscular walls of your anus, leaning back a little, clutching the headboard with both hands as the waves of pleasure surge through your body, gushing hot, sweet cum all over my face.

 "Time to bathe Goddess," you laugh, giving one last roll of your hips to grind your cum into my face, getting it all over my cheeks and nose and forehead, marking me as your property, before shifting your weight to the right, and lie down beside me. "Go start the bathwater running. I'm going to masturbate while you're doing that," you murmur, and begin fingering yourself while you wait.

 "Yes, Goddess," I purr, as I get out of bed and walk to the bathroom. The water is cool at first but begins to heat up, and I put the stopper in the drain, and sit on the edge of the tub, swirling the water around with my fingertips. I can hear you cooing and moaning in the next room, and your cock twitches in its cage. After about five minutes of this torture, I announce, "ready, Goddess."

 I look down as you walk into the bathroom, and feel you shove three fingers into my mouth, and lift my head so that I'm forced to look at you. "Suck my fingers clean, bitch. Later today, you'll be tasting this mixed with a real man's." My lips slide forward and back, as practice for sucking cock, and feel you pull your fingers out with a soft slurping noise, and then slap my cheek. "Help me into the tub, my little cum-dumpster," you laugh, grabbing my hand, and lower yourself bit by bit into the hot water.

 Pouring liquid soap into the bath sponge, I lift each of your feet out of the water and spend a moment getting them soapy and massaging them. My hand follows the curves of your body up your thighs, pausing briefly at your sex, and I glance up at you and blush. Taking my meaning, you laugh and slap me again. "Don't worry, slut, you'll get a chance to clean my ass – with your whorish little mouth." I nod obediently, feeling you wrap your hand around the back of my head, pulling my face close to yours, and you spit in my face. "Continue," you command, feeling my hand move up your side and over your belly, caressing your breasts and underarms.

 You pass me a razor and some shaving gel, and tell me to get into the tub. You rest your ankle on my shoulder, and lift your other foot between my thighs, kicking me lightly in the balls several times as I spread the shaving gel up your calf and thigh. You stop when I start to draw the razor up your leg, watching me with a smile on your face as I shave your left leg. Once I'm finished, you switch, resting your right ankle on my shoulder, and kick me in the balls with your left foot as I spread the lather up your wonderful leg. Again you stop when I begin to shave you, explaining, "I can't have you making any careless mistakes!" laughing, clearly enjoying yourself.

 Once I'm finished with your legs, you lift yourself out of the water and sit on the edge of the tub, spreading your thighs, and force me to my hands and knees in the tub. "Continue," you command, feeling my fingertips spread the shaving gel over your pussy, the razor removing all your hair. I take a few handfuls of water from the tub to rinse the lather away, and you tease your clitoris just in front of my face, holding my cheek against your hand, knowing how hungry I am to feel your hot, smooth skin against my mouth. "Mm, no no no, slut, you'll get your chance... after they've finished with me," you purr, pushing me away from you with your foot, get out of the tub, and stand.

 You snap your fingers, throwing a towel over my head as I'm climbing out of the tub, and say, "hurry up and get me dry, they should be here any minute." My hands follow the curves of your body attentively, getting every drop of water soaked up, and kiss your feet once I've finished. You snap your fingers again, indicating for me to crawl after you, still wet, and I follow at your heels.

 Leading me into the middle of your bedroom, you tell me to stop, pull a few things out of the dresser behind me, and walk back over to me. "Kneel," you command, watching with a smile as I lean up on my knees and shins, and wrap a blindfold around my head, tying it firmly in place. "Dave is about eight inches," you purr, pushing me roughly forward onto my hands and knees. "But he's about as big around as a beer bottle. He will be filling my pussy..." You slap my ass and grab me by the balls, and lift up hard, forcing me to lift my ass.

 The cold wetness of lube on your fingertips makes me moan and shiver, and I spread my thighs slightly. "...and fill it it exquisitely--more than your tiny little cock ever could. Clarence isn't as big around, but his cock is nine and a half inches long," you continue, spreading lube over the tip of the condom covering my buttplug before you seat it between my cheeks, giving me half a second to understand what's happening before you start to push. "And he will be fucking your Goddess' ass. You said you were hungry for cock, didn't you, you dirty little whore?!" You slap my ass viciously, pushing the plug hard, watching the widest part slide into me, holding it in place.

 "Yes, yes, Goddess," I whimper, feeling violated and stretched, pushing back against the pressure filling me up. You give one firm push forward, laughing as the base shoves against my asshole. 

 "They already know the drill. You are to remain kneeling where you are, say not a single fucking word from now on, and suck them like the cuckold bitch you are. While they fuck me, you are to suck on my toes. Needless to say, you will lick me clean, and you will clean their cocks with your mouth."

 You slap my ass a few more times, and say "kneel," walking around me, and rest your ass on my face, feeling me immediately begin my worship of your ass. "See? Didn't I tell you I'd give you the chance to clean my ass?" you laugh, resting more of your weight on my face. I place my hands on the carpet beside my feet. You slide your foot between my thighs and idly bump your heel against the clear plastic tube of my chastity device as the firm, rough surface of my tongue pushes and twists inside you.

 They come into your bedroom much later, unannounced, and walk forward to hug and greet you, chuckling about the position you have me in. Clarence chuckles, "so this is your boy? He's probably all ready to go by now, right? Well, let's get started!" I can hear the sounds of them throwing their clothes in piles, stripping, and as soon as you lift your weight off my face, I feel the heads of their cocks against the corners of my mouth. I turn instinctively to the left and wrap my lips around the soft, warm, velvety tip of his penis, suckling it tenderly, sliding the surface of my tongue beneath his glans, and wrap both of my hands around both of their cocks, stroking them slowly, at first.

 My mouth is already full, and as the blood rushes to his penis, I can feel it ballooning between my lips, and moan softly, squirming a bit on my knees, dripping precome on the carpet. I spit down the length of the cock on my left, and begin to stroke it a little harder and faster, taking the other hungrily in my open mouth, sucking it hard, licking the precome from the slit of his cockhead, and swallow it down. My left hand only barely closes around his shaft, which I stroke from base to tip, keeping him hard as I push my lips down Clarence's cock, feeling his head bump against the back of my throat.

 Your hand presses against the back of my head, and I feel you forcing me further down, pushing the still swelling head of his cock down my throat, deeper and deeper, laughing softly as I choke on it, and cough, feeling my nose shoved against his toned belly. "He will thank you for this," you chuckle, knowing that I'm grateful for it, and both of the men laugh. You take your hand away from the back of my head and I pull my lips away from Clarence, cough once more, and start sucking Dave passionately, fucking my mouth with his cock, feeling it hit the back of my throat hard with each bob of my head.

 "See? He just needed a little push," you laugh, standing to slide onto the bed, and spread your legs for both of them to see how wet you are, and watch you finger yourself as I get them fully hard. I feel Dave's sweet, enormous cockhead against the back of my throat and push forward, feeling it pop down my throat. Tears stream down my face as I force my own lips further down his immense shaft, choking again with only a few inches to go, and push forward harder, pushing my lips against the base of his shaft. I open my mouth a little wider and stretch my tongue out beyond the base of his cock, and try to lap his balls.

 "Are you both ready?" you purr, spreading a generous drop of lube over the tight, beautiful opening of your ass. Clarence's cock twitches in my hand, and I feel Dave swell in my mouth and throat. 

 He pushes me away and says, "hell yeah! I've been looking forward to this for a couple of weeks!" and walks over to the bed. Clarence does the same, lying down beside you, allowing you to spread a handful of lube along his long, sweet shaft before you mount him, seating his cockhead against your asshole, moaning softly as it slides in. Dave is kneeling at the edge of the bed, stroking himself, waiting for you to get situated.

 In the meantime, I crawl blindly to the edge of your bed, unable to see, only hearing you purr as Dave seats his head against your wet, clean-shaven pussy. "I forgot... how fucking tight you are!" Dave exclaims, slowly filling you inch by inch, until the whole of his thick, beautiful cock is throbbing inside you. 

 I can hear you breathing heavily and moaning, your hands and feet pressed into the comforter as you ride them both, completely controlling the pace, at first. "Mmm," you whimper, feeling Clarence's strong hands against your back, holding you up, and Dave's hands on your hips, holding you down as they both begin to thrust.

 I crawl up on the very end of the bed, fumbling around in my blindness for your foot, finding Clarence's first, then yours, and begin to suck your toes. You squeal in delight at the slow, tender screwing of your bulls, combined with the sensual suction of my mouth at your toes. You concentrate on squeezing them both as they start going a little faster, and a little harder. "Be careful, Dave, you know your cock hits the back of my pussy," you purr, wiggling your toes in my mouth, lifting your foot, shoving your toes deeper into my mouth, forcing me to suck them all at once.

 My mouth moves away from your left foot and wraps around the toes of your right foot, suckling them passionately, the rough surface of my tongue lapping at the pads of your toes. Clarence isn't able to pull that far out, but he thrusts hard, pounding your ass just the way you like it, as Dave starts to fuck you in earnest, making soft little squishing sounds as he pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back in. His pubic bone hits your clitoris steadily, and your toes curl in my mouth as you begin to come, moaning in ecstasy, spasming around them. "Oh god, I'm coming, I'm coming," you purr, "come with me, come inside me.."

 Clarence makes a few quiet grunts as he pumps even harder for a few brief seconds, and explodes inside you, his cock twitching and shuddering, and Dave follows not long after, groaning in pleasure as your pussy grips his massive cock, milking him dry, his cockhead pushing against your cervix as he shoots his seed, jet after jet of come spraying into the sweet depths of your pussy.

 "Mmm," you purr, "thank you boys for coming over. That was wonderful!"

 "You're welcome," chuckles Clarence, letting you relax on his chest, kissing behind your ear as his hands wrap around you, massaging your breasts. 

 "That was great," laughs Dave, beginning to pull out of you. You give him a playful slap on the ass, and tease, "leaving so soon?"

 "Yeah, I have to get to work. Your slave is going to clean me off, right?"

 "Oh, yes," you grin. "He's down there sucking on my toes. Feel free to use his mouth however you please." You cover your labia with one hand as Dave pulls out, so you don't drip on the comforter, and pull your toes out of my mouth, and feel the still-hard head of his cock slip with no warning between my lips. I gulp and very, very gently suck the enormous head of his penis, holding it in place as I paint it with my tongue, lapping it passionately, tasting your cum, and more than just a hint of his, making greedy slurping noises until I'm finished.

 Dave gets off the bed and goes to start putting his clothes on. You lean forward and grab me by the ear, forcing me to lie on my back between Clarence's thighs, still holding Dave's cum inside you as you slide off of Clarence, dribbling on my face as you sit back down, your cheeks resting on mine, rocking your ass back, forcing it against my nose as I stretch my tongue into you, hungry to lick you perfectly clean, completely humiliated to be rimming you, but so grateful that I got what I asked for, swallowing his semen down bit by bit, until I'm all finished.

 You slide back, covering my nose with your ass, and push your pussy into my mouth, bearing down a little bit against the feel of my tonguetip pushing into you, helping me get every last drop of their cum into my mouth. "Did both of you enjoy my slave's cocksucking?" you purr, glancing back at Clarence, who's lying lazily behind you, grinning and nodding.

 Dave catches the hint and nods as well, knowing that I can't see him, and walks over to the bed to give you a hug and a kiss on the cheek before heading out the door. Once I'm done cleaning your pussy as well, you dismount from my face and turn me over, forcing my mouth against Clarence's cock, watching both of us as I lick him clean, taking too long, enjoying the taste of his cum mixed with yours, and you force me away. "Sorry Clare," you chuckle, slapping my ass hard as you push me almost off the bed. "He's a little overeager. But I'm glad you were able to make it."

 Clarence gives you a hug and a kiss and gets out of bed, walking over to his clothes, and begins to get dressed. "Same time next week, right?" he laughs, half-kidding, and you give him a wink, and wave, blowing him a kiss as he goes out the door.

 "So, slave." You pause deliberately, lying back on the bed, making yourself comfortable. "You haven't had enough, have you?" You lock your ankles around the back of my head, pulling me forward far enough to get both hands around the back of my head, and pull your pussy viciously against my mouth, and grind your beautiful, slick labia over my face, marking me once more – only this time, it's with your cum, and Dave's, and my own saliva – "...you're still hungry for more. And I know it's been a long time since I've allowed you an orgasm," you purr, feeling my tongue caressing you ever so gently.

 "So you get to eat your own cum as well, you slutty little cum-dumpster," you purr lazily, rolling your hips as I worship your pussy. "Only, no orgasm. Get me a latex glove and some lube--slaves aren't allowed out of chastity. I'll catch it in my hand, and you can lick it up from there."



Goddess Gives



When we returned from vacation Alan and I slipped right back into our old life, which pretty much amounted to work and more work. Alan was stuck in the office late nearly every night, and my boss had a bunch of new assignments waiting for my attention. As much as we had wanted to continue exploring the new aspects of our sexuality - well - we didn't have the time or energy. We hardly had time to do each other, let alone get others involved. So, we just had to make do with the memories of lounging on the beach with my boobs hanging out, or letting everything hang out with our friends in the hotel.

One of the new parts of my job was working more closely with our suppliers. This involved both direct contact as well as analyzing the technical work. One Friday I was asked to go into the city and spend the day going over specs with a supplier's geek team. The first person I met when I got there was Selena. She had been my contact at the company, although we'd never met face to face. She was a lot different in person than I had expected. On the phone she always seemed a little officious and stuffy. In person I found her to be a strong and likable woman, one of those women who are more attractive than they are pretty. She was slender with long brown hair and wore wire-rim glasses. The attractiveness came from the air of confidence about her - she was a woman who commanded respect at the same time openly expressing her femininity. She had the geeks eating out of her hand. Even the women on the squad seemed eager to please her, treating her with a deference that almost had a sexual overtone. It certainly made my work easier because there was none of the bullshit I usually have to put up with from techies.

After a morning with the geeks Selena and I spent the afternoon in her office going over the data I had collected. As I sat across the desk from her I learned something else about her - she wasn't wearing a bra. No wonder the guys were so attentive. In addition, I strongly suspected that it was no accident when she gave me glimpses down her blouse. After all, I'm a show-off myself and I recognized the moves: bending over just a little further than necessary when showing me a document; using that little half-shrug to ensure that the top hangs open; making certain that every time I was looking at her in profile it was toward the open side of the blouse; occasionally throwing the shoulders back in a stretch that displayed nipples against the cloth. I enjoy doing that sometimes and I discovered that I also enjoyed being the recipient of it. The experiences I'd had while on vacation had made me much more aware of other womens' bodies and this chick was definitely flaunting hers. Somehow I managed to understand the technical stuff that was the reason for my visit - but it took a lot of willpower.

As we were wrapping up I mentioned that my husband would be working late. "I probably won't see him until eight or nine. That's when he's been getting home lately since we got back from vacation in Jamaica. But it's a real bummer on a Friday night"

"If you don't have any plans," Selena said, "let's have dinner together." 

"Sounds good to me."

As we talked I discovered that Selena lived in a suburb that I'd have to drive through to get home, and not far from where Alan worked. "Why don't you stop at my place and we can order a pizza or something?" Was this lead-up to a seduction, I wondered. "You could call your husband and have him come over when he gets through at work," she added. So maybe not, damn it. 

Briefly I thought of Marion, Alan and I rolling around a' trois on our bed in Jamaica. "Cut that out lady," I thought. "You're gonna get all hot and bothered for nothing. Get your mind out of your panties - or Selena's panties." I made a mental note to demand that Alan give it to me good when we got home. I obviously needed to get laid.

Selena gave me directions to her house and I called Alan about meeting us there when he got free. Then I told Selena that I'd be over in about an hour and bring some wine. "Great, see you soon," she told me as I left.

It was closer to an hour and a half before I got there. I parked behind her car and noticed a bumper sticker telling me that 'Goddess Lives.' A very interesting woman, I thought as I knocked on her door. "Hi," Selena said, holding the door open for me. "Let me go pour us some of this," she said as she as she took the wine from me and walked away, not acknowledging that one of us (me) was wearing a crumpled business suit and one (she) was wearing a necklace - only a necklace.

"That's a great idea. I think I really need a drink right now," I said to her bare little bottom as she walked to the kitchen. As she was opening the wine I had a chance to really observe her. Her breasts were smaller than I had thought, but the nipples larger. They were hard and pointing straight out, so much so that I wondered if, despite her nonchalance, she might be more turned on by the situation than she let on. I also saw that her pubes were shaved smooth. Was she just a little bit moist, or was that more wishful thinking.

As she handed me my drink she finally acknowledged her state of undress. "Did I mention I was a nudist? I never wear anything around the house."

"No, I don't believe you mentioned it," I replied. "I would have remembered that."

"Hope it doesn't make you uncomfortable," she said. I didn't think she really meant that.

"No, not really. Naked people don't shock me," I told her before taking a big gulp of wine. I didn't really mean that either.

Selena suggested that we go into the living room and sit down. Once there, she settled on the couch, her legs tucked under her. I sat in a recliner across from her. In an effort to keep my eyes off her sexy body my gaze settled on the necklace she was wearing. It was a pendant hanging from a thin gold chain which looked like three crescent moons entwined. "Interesting necklace," I said. "Very pretty."

"Thanks," she said, fingering it. "It's a Wiccan thing, a symbol of femininity. The moons reflect the three seasons of a woman's life."

"So, you're a Wiccan? Is the nudity a part of your religious beliefs?"

"Yes, I'm a Wiccan priestess. And no, nudity is not really essential to the religion. Some Covens still hold their rituals Skyclad - that is clad only by the light of the sky, but not all even do that. I did get started as a nudist at Wiccan ceremonies, but mainly I just like it."

"Aren't Wiccans said to use virgins as their altar?"

"Virgins are getting too hard to find," she said with a laugh. "Actually we usually use a table. For instance I use this coffee table as an altar sometimes," indicating the table in front of the sofa. "But I've also been fucked on that table, which kinda blows the virgin idea."

"Uh," I said, "why would you do it on the coffee table when there's a perfectly comfortable sofa right there?"

"The sofa was occupied at the time," she responded.

"Well, there you go." I said with a shrug. I wondered if she thought she was shocking me. But after what Alan and I had experienced, I was hard to shock. In fact, I had a little surprise in mind for her myself. "Why don't you get us some more wine while I go to the bathroom," I said. I was gonna need the wine.

"Sure, she said, turning to get up, then pausing and 'accidentally' giving me a nice shot of her bare snatch before she stood. "The bath is down the hall there."

When I returned to the living room she was sitting on the sofa with our glasses on the end table next to her. I wasn't surprised that she didn't show any reaction at how I was dressed. I had on exactly what she had, minus the pendant. I stopped a moment, letting her take in the fact that my breasts were a little larger than hers, although with smaller nipples. And that I too was completely shaved down below. I walked over and as I bent to pick up my glass my boobs hung directly in her face. "Did I mention that I'm an exhibitionist?" I asked.

"No," she said looking me over. "But I'm glad you are." I sat down next to her. "So, tell me about Jamaica," she said, as if a naked woman sitting next to her was an every day thing. "Did you get to any of their nude beaches?"

"No, just topless ones," I replied. 

"Bet these were a big hit there," she said as she reached over and cupped one of my breasts in her hands. I tried not to shiver as she ran her thumb over my nipple.

"The guys seemed to like them," I said as she took her hand away. "and some of the women too," I added. "These are nice also," I said, reaching out and touching one of her tits. "Very nice," I said as I rolled the long tip between my fingers. "We did spend a lot of time naked there, though. With some new friends we made."

"Oh yeah," she said, her hand on my leg, her fingers stroking the inside of my thigh "I want to hear more about that," Selena said as she took her glasses off. I closed my eyes and she sucked gently on my breast. Her fingers were moving closer to my pussy. I wondered if she could smell my desire. "Did you have sex with these friends?" she asked before kissing my nipple again.

"Yes."

Kiss. "The women too?" 

"Yes."

Kiss. "Did you like it?"

"Yes."

Kiss. "Do you want to have sex with me?" she asked.

"Yes," I answered, pulling her face up to mine. We looked each other in the eye a moment, then I pressed my mouth to hers. Her tongue was between my lips, her hand moving between my legs. "Yes," I whispered once again as she pushed her fingers into me. "Oh yes I do."

Selena pulled her face away from mine and eased my legs apart. Then she began kissing me on the neck. I put my hands on her shoulders and gently moved her head down. She kissed both of my nipples, then moved on down, running her tongue down my belly until it was just teasing my slit. Looking up at me she said, "Tell me what you want, Kim."

"I want you. I want you to do me."

"Do what? You have to tell me before I do it," she teased.

"I want you to go down on me. Please," I begged, "Eat my pussy, Selena" Immediately she pressed her mouth against my lower lips, forcing her tongue into my cunt. "Oh yes - yes Selena." I put my hands on the back of her head. Not to guide her, you don't need to guide another woman, she knows just where you want to be touched and licked. But I wanted to feel her, touch her as she pleased me. 

And please me she did. Her tongue alternated between my cunt and my clit, getting harder and deeper with each exploration. Just when I thought I couldn't take it any longer she would back off and gently blow her breath onto me, before plunging her face back to my pussy. "Oh god, Selena," I murmured. "Make me cum, please, make me cum." Then, "OHSHITOHYESYESYES!" as she shoved her fingers deep into me. My back arched, forcing me hard against her face as the orgasm surged through my body. I continued screaming as she sucked and licked and fingered me through climax after climax. Finally I pulled her face away from my crotch. She rose slightly until I was kissing her open-mouthed. I could taste my sex on her mouth. 

As we kissed we twisted around until she was lying on her back on the sofa with me on top of her. My leg was between hers and I could feel the heat and moisture of her crotch against my thigh. "My turn now," I whispered. "Tell me what you want, what you want me to do."

"Eat my pussy, please Kim. Do it." I began trailing kisses down her body until I was positioned on my knees between her legs. I held her pussy lips open and ran my nose over it, inhaling the strong aroma of her sex, before flicking my tongue into her. She let out a little sigh as I contacted her swollen nub. Shoving my face against her, I stuck my tongue as deeply into her as I could get it. The smell and taste of her desire was overwhelming. I licked at the moisture in her for a moment, then slowly began teasing her clit. As she got more excited I sucked the hard knob between my lips, at the same time exploring her insides with my fingers. More and more honey was running out of her and I lapped at it. My mouth slid down over her lips, then on down. Pussy juice was running into her ass crack and I licked at it, penetrating that tiny hole with my tongue. Selena was making inarticulate noises, noises of pure pleasure, telling me she was cumming - as if I couldn't tell that by the what was flowing from her. Over and over again she came, first with my tongue in her ass and my fingers in her cunt, then with tongue in her cunt and a finger up her butt. The whole time I was rubbing her clit with my thumb.

I don't know how many orgasms she had, but eventually she pulled my face away from her sex and we kissed again, this time she got to taste her sex on my face. We lay with our bodies pressed together a long time before finally disengaging and sat up, reaching for our drinks. We both downed our wine in a single gulp. "I better call Alan," I said.

"You're not gonna tell him what to expect, are you?" Selena asked, sounding slightly disappointed 

"Of course not. I'm going to tell him to pick up more wine."

"Good idea," she agreed. "I'll go pour us another round." As she walked to the kitchen I watched that ass of hers again. This time I could see it glistening with the mixture of her cum and my saliva.

When Selena came back with our glasses I called Alan. He agreed to pick up more wine and I went over the directions with him again. I tried to keep my voice steady despite the fact Selena was sucking on my tit the whole time. When we hung up I told her, "He said he'll be at least an hour."

"So," she said, "Think we can come up with anything to do while we wait?"

"I believe we can," I said as I moved her hand between her legs. We kissed and played with each other a while, then she suggested we go to the bedroom. No argument from me. As soon as we got there I laid down on my back with Selena on her knees next to me. "Sixty-nine?" I said. The words were no sooner out of my mouth when she swung her leg over, her pussy directly above my face. Slowly she lowered herself until my lips were on hers. As I licked at her, she began licking at me. Quickly we were pressed face to cunt, cunt to face - sharing a massive orgasm.

* * * *

I was a little surprised when Kim called me about coming by her friend's house after work. Usually we were both so tired when we got off that socializing was the last thing on our minds. But I was glad to be doing something besides going home and falling asleep. Then when she called the second time to tell me to pick up some wine it began to sound like an enjoyable evening. Maybe not as much fun as the evenings we'd spent on vacation, but at least something different. "Shall I get a small bottle of expensive wine, or a large bottle of the cheap stuff?" I asked.

"Definitely the large one," she answered.

"Sounds good to me," I said, hoping we wouldn't both have headaches the next morning.

I managed to find the house without much trouble. When I knocked on the door Kim called out, "Come on in, Honey, the door's unlocked." As soon as I was inside, well, I almost dropped the wine. There was Kim and a good looking brunette sitting on the sofa. Kim had her arm around the other woman's shoulder and both were completely naked. "Holy shit," I thought. "I think I just won the lottery."

"Alan, this is Selena. Selena, Alan," Kim said.

"Uh, glad to meet you, I stammered." Do you offer to shake hands with a naked woman you've just met? I was a little fuzzy on the etiquette. Kim got up and took the bottle out of my hand. I'd forgotten I was holding it.

"I'll go pour us each a glass," she said. 

As Kim walked out of the room Selena reached out and took my hand in hers. "Kim didn't exaggerate when she said you were a hunk, did she?" Hunk. Me. I didn't really think so. But then I stopped thinking when Selena pulled me down until my face was nearly touching hers. Somehow our lips were together and her tongue was in my mouth. As we kissed I sank to my knees. Between her knees, actually. I broke the kiss, then leaned forward and began kissing one of her nipples. Before I knew it Selena's beautiful pussy was right in front of my face. She was shaved, just like Kim. I could see moisture forming on her lips and could smell her sex. Tentatively I ran my tongue over those lips, then pushed it inside her. "Oooh, that's nice," she purred as I licked at her. She put one leg behind my neck and pulled me tighter. I teased her clit with my tongue while easing two fingers into her cunt. She was so hot, so wet, I was sure Kim had been there before me.

As I was feasting on Selena's pussy Kim returned. She sat down next to us on the sofa. "Don't stop, Alan. Please don't stop. I'm so close." Her clit was swelling against my tongue. I worked my fingers harder in and out of her cunt. I felt a hand on the back of my head and realized it was Kim's. Looking up I could see that Kim was sucking on one of Selena's nipples. Just then Selena screamed, "Oh yes - 0h fuck yes!" The juice was flooding out of her, soaking my face and hand.

Finally she pushed me away and Kim leaned down and kissed me. "God Alan, you taste like pussy." Then she kissed me again. "And I love it."

Selena then kissed me. "Oh yeah, my sex tastes so good on a man's face." Then turning to Kim she added, "Almost as much as it did on yours, lover." As I watched the two of them kissed passionately.

When they broke the kiss Kim said, "I think someone here is overdressed." She began opening my shirt while Selena worked on my pants. As soon as I was undressed both women dropped to their knees. Kim held my dick up and the women's tongues met around it, then Selena took me completely into her mouth while Kim licked at my balls. They continued licking and sucking and kissing me - and kissing each other - a few minutes, then Kim pulled away. "Enough of this. You've got a job to do honey." Smiling at Selena, still sucking my cock, she went on, "I think our new lover here needs to be fucked. Think he's up to it, Selena?"

Selena took me out of her mouth and shook me gently. "Yep, I'm sure he's up to it. Let's go get in bed." 

As soon as we got to the bedroom Selena laid down on her back. Kim knelt beside her as I positioned myself on my knees between Selena's legs. Kim took hold of my dick and began rubbing the tip along Selena's wet slit before forcing my head between the lips. I arched my back, driving my cock deep into the warmth of Selena's cunt where I could feel her biting at me. As I worked myself in and out Kim began sucking again on Selena's nipple. Selena slid her hand under Kim's to her crotch and I could see her penetrating my wife's pussy with her fingers while Kim caressed my balls. Soon we were all making happy sex sounds. Selena wrapped her legs tight around my butt as she began cumming again. I froze, buried as deeply as I could get in her body, trying to delay my own orgasm. "Give it to me," Selena demanded. "Cum with me, give it to me." That's when my wife shoved a finger up my butt and I lost all control. My cock exploded inside the woman's cunt. Again and again I throbbed as my balls emptied themselves until I was completely spent. My dick began to shrink and soon it slipped out of it's confinement. Both women kissed me, then I laid down on Selena's left side and Kim stretched out on her right. 

After we caught our breath Selena turned to Kim and said, "Honey, I think your husband's cum is leaking out of me." Kim reached down and touched the woman's pussy.

"Yep, it sure is."

"You wanna taste it?" Selena asked.

"Uh huh," Kim said, nodding. Selena got on her knees, straddling Kim's face. As I watched, Kim pulled Selena's lips apart and a string of spunk oozed out until it was touching my wife's lips. As Kim licked at the semen, Selena slowly lowered herself until Kim's tongue was inside her. 




Goddess Gives



Slowly Selena rubbed herself against Kim's lips a few times, then dismounted. Kim's face was glistening with sex juices. Selena licked Kim's wet face then looked up and rolled her eyes. "Mmm, that's nice. Thank you Kim. And thank you too," she said looking at me.

"You get a taste too," Kim said as she turned and began kissing me, letting me taste the combined man/woman cum on her lips. "Now, Alan honey, go get our wine." Reluctantly I got out of the bed and headed to the living room to fetch the drinks.

* * * * 

As Alan left the room I turned to Kim and said, "You're husband is great. I praise Goddess for having you share him with me."

"I don't know about that but it was a hell of a lot of fun. Maybe I should find out more about this Goddess if she gives presents like this."

I leaned forward, teasing Kim's lips with my nipples. "I assume he does seconds."

"He better," Kim said. "I need to be fucked too." I reached down and slid my finger into her pussy. It was hot, wet and swollen. "You're ready for sure," I told her, "But we'll have to work on him for a while." Just then Alan returned to the room, our glasses in one hand and the wine bottle in the other. He stopped where he was, watching his wife sucking on my tit while I fingered her pussy. I could see that his cock was about half erect. It wasn't going to take much to get him ready again .

"Come here," I said to him. "I want to taste myself on you.. He put the drinks down and got on the bed, holding his dick in front of my face, letting me lick the drying residue of our sex off it. His balls were hanging in front of Kim's face and she licked at them. I sucked Alan completely into my mouth and teased him with my tongue. I could feel him growing. Hell, what man wouldn't with one woman sucking his cock and another sucking his balls.

When Alan was completely hard I took him out. "Lay down," I ordered. Your wife wants to be fucked." I got no argument as he immediately lay down on his back. I held his dick erect and Kim knelt over it. Slowly she lowered herself and I inserted Tab A into Slot B. As she squirmed on the hard cock I leaned over and flicked my tongue across her swollen clit before moving back. Kim leaned over until her tit was in husband's mouth. From what she had done to me earlier I knew what she would like. I moved behind her and ran my tongue down the crack of her ass, teasing the tiny hole and squeezing Alan's balls at the same time. 

I had wanted this woman from the first time she walked into my office that morning. And I had known she was mine the first time she looked down my blouse. No long seduction was needed, just get naked and get down. Alan was a bonus - a very welcome bonus. I continued tongue-fucking Kim's asshole while Alan was driving into her cunt. I smiled at the thought that soon he would be cumming again - filling her with his sperm. And I'd get to suck it out of her.

Thank you, Goddess.



Goddess Helena's Wealthy slave



I wake up after six long hours of restlessly rolling around and sleeping on the carpeted floor all the while you sleep so sweetly and soundly in a Queen sized bed that's big enough to hold at least four people. I don't dare wake you yet as I remember the list you have given me with chores to do before waking you. 

Six hours earlier as I'm kneeling on the floor beside the bed and succulently kissing each of your feet you hand me a list and tell me they are things I must do once waking up before I am to wake you in the morning. As I finish kissing your feet you pet my head and say, "Good boy but now you must sleep on the floor little piggy with no squealing while I sleep in this nice big bed." Now here it is six hours later and I'm beginning my chores list. First I crawl to get your newspaper then I crawl to the kitchen and make you breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast along with a caffelatte. 

After fixing breakfast I put the food on a tray along with your newspaper, cigarettes, and an ashtray (just in case you need it but think you might use something else instead) and carry it to your bedroom where you are so peacefully sleeping. I set the tray down on the little nightstand beside the bed and go to the bathroom beside your bedroom to draw your bath water. As the tub is filling with water I return to you and begin kissing your feet to wake you up. You roll around a few times and then wake up smiling down at me as you point your finger to the tray so I come around get the tray then place it next to you on the bed. I kneel beside the bed as you are eating and occasionally you will throw some scraps of egg or bacon on the floor and point at it for me to clean it up. 

After you finish eating you toss me your lighter. As you put a cigarette into your mouth I bring the flame up to your cigarette and hold it steady to make sure it is properly lit. You smoke for a few minutes letting an ash build up on the cigarette before ordering me to open my mouth. I open my mouth and you drop the ash on to my tongue letting it burn and singe my tongue causing extreme pain for my tongue. You tell me to swallow the ash and I do. This continues for the next several minutes until you get to the end of the cigarette and then you stub out the butt on my tongue. You order me to chew up the cigarette butt and then swallow it. I chew it up and swallow it, it tastes a little yucky but I don't dare say a word. 

You now sit and relax reading your newspaper as I go finish the bath water. I come back and tell you the bath is ready. You go to the bathroom and get undressed. You then get into the bath as I kneel beside it. You hand me a sponge and point to your feet. I begin massaging your feet with the sponge and slowly work my way up your legs and then as instructed up your entire body making sure to get every part of it cleaned. After you have been sponged down you get up out of the tub and dry yourself off with a towel but point to your feet again and I bend over to kiss them and suck each one dry including the toes. 

Finally we go back into your bedroom and as you get dressed you inform me we have such a busy day planned for today. You are dressed in a Female Military Officer's Uniform from WWII complete with leather boots and leather gloves. I am dressed in a business suit with a dog collar around my neck which has a leash attached and you are holding the end of the leash in your leather gloved hands. You drag me along with you into the garage where you unhook the leash from my collar as you order me to open the door on the rear passenger side which I do quickly without hesitation. As you sit down in the relaxing black leather seat of your black Mercedes S65 you throw me the keys and order me to drive. I get into the driver seat and start up the car when you tell me we are headed to the office this morning. About 20 minutes later we pull up outside the office building and I begin to have flashbacks to the last time you wore the Officer's Uniform when we were here at the office. 

Two years prior, James Alexander is a successful businessman. He has been the owner and CEO of Alexander Insurance Agency for the past 30 years. His company makes him over $15million annually in profit. Now at the age of 55 he is beginning to think about retirement and finding himself a younger woman to marry and have a family with. He has no living relatives and he has never married or fathered any child which is now beginning to bother him as he wants to pass on his business to someone that is family. When it comes to relationships with woman he has always been somewhat submissive and feels the best potential partner would be a strong independent woman that enjoys domination of a sub. 

He decides to post an ad anonymously in the classifieds section of the local newspaper. The ad reads: "Wealthy 55 year old submissive male seeks young Dominant Female for marriage and to create a family with children. I'm 6'2" and weigh 190lbs; my hair is short and grey. I am the owner and CEO of my own business. The female I seek must be younger then 30 and older then 21. Preferably she will have a Business Degree and might have an interest in running the family business some day. Also as I'm a cigar smoker would be nice if you are a smoker too or you should at least be tolerant of smokers. If you meet these requirements please reply to box 123." 

After several weeks James finally receives an email from a young lady who is only 24 years old and she calls herself Goddess Helena. In the email is a photo of her wearing a Female Military Officer's Uniform that appears to be an older style almost like WWII German Uniform. Her outfit is completed with thigh high leather stiletto boots and full length leather gloves. Also in the photo she is holding a burning cigar in her right hand. She has long flowing blonde hair and is very striking figure in the photo, James can't believe his luck as she appears to be the Goddess he is looking for. 

She asks for him to reply with photos of himself along with his personal details such as his full name, address, business address, home, mobile, and business phone numbers and also to send proof of his income as she won't consider anyone that makes less then $10million a year income. She explains that she has a Business Degree from the University of Texas and has always dreamed of owning her own company some day. She goes on to explain that she is accustomed to living the high life and she expects her slave to provide for her very expensive tastes stopping at nothing to please her. 

She talks about the fact that many people have called her a gold-digger because of how she seeks rich older men for relationships and then uses them and has them buy her lots of gifts and expensive things. She explains that her taste in older men is because they tend to have the ability along with the desire to do anything to please her which includes buying expensive gifts for her, taking her on exotic vacations, providing her with high dollars for weekly allowances, and they also are experts at giving her good orgasms by eating out her pussy, taking her strap-on up their asses and getting a thorough fucking, cleaning her boots, eating her cigarette or cigar ashes, and just being submissive to all her sexual needs. 

After reading her email James knows that she is the one as they have so many shared and common interests. So he begins to compose an email to her providing her with all the details and information she has requested. He also goes on to explain in his email a dream scenario that he has always hoped to act out with a Goddess such as her. 

His reply email reads:

"Hello Goddess,

Thank you for your email. It was nice to read about your interests and I also found your photos to be very intriguing as well, it appears we have some common interests. Don't worry Goddess I've attached documents with all of the information you requested including that of my personal financial details which I'm sure will satisfy your minimum income requirements. As I was reading your email and looking at your photos I couldn't help but imagine myself kneeling on the floor of my office before your divine power. You are sitting in my executive leather chair and are dressed in the Military Officer Uniform from the photo along with the black thigh high leather stiletto boots and black full length leather gloves. Your long blonde hair is smoothed up into a ponytail as you swivel back and forth in the chair. 

As I'm kneeling there, you reach on to my desk to pick up the gift I have bought for you a CAO Gold Maduro Double Corona which happens to be yours and my favorite cigar. You examine the cigar to make sure it has been properly cut and prepared for smoking. You then place the cigar to your lips as you toss me a lighter. Immediately I reach up with the lighter and light your cigar as you twirl it around with your magnificently beautiful lips making sure to get an even smoke. 

While relaxing in my old chair which is now your chair and enjoying smoking the cigar you begin to interrogate me for information on my company's assets and all my bank account passwords. When I refuse to provide the information you torture me by using your riding crop against my back and whipping me mercilessly. When I still won't give you information you burn my flesh with the hot cigar. Then you force me to open my mouth and eat your cigar ashes. 

After enduring the whippings and cigar torture I'm ready to talk and give you vital information on my company's assets along with my bank account passwords. After providing you with the information that you required, you access my bank accounts and transfer all money from them to your own offshore bank accounts. You pull out documents from your briefcase and force me to sign an agreement giving you power of attorney over my affairs as well as transferring all of my assets including my company to you. You also make me resign from my position as CEO and sign papers making you the new CEO of the company. 

You tell me that I'm now your slave as I am no longer the CEO of a company and have given you CEO power of my old company along with full control of my assets and power of attorney over me. You explain that as your slave I must always address you as Goddess Helena. You also explain to me that my first order of business as your slave is to fire my old secretary as the old hag will no longer be needed since you are CEO and you will use me your slave as your secretary. I call my old secretary Mary into your office and explain to her that she is to clean out her desk immediately as her services are no longer needed in your company. 

Now that I have gotten rid of the secretary you tell me my next order of business is to come and clean your leather boots. I say, "Yes, thank you Goddess" and begin my task of cleaning your boots. While I'm cleaning your boots I hear you opening your briefcase that sits on the desk and rummaging through it for something. I begin to look up to see what you are doing but stop as I hear you say, "No, no slave you must not look up and must continue to focus on my boots as you clean them." After a while of my tongue lapping over and over them, your boots are now clean to a gleaming shine. 

You grab my chin lifting it up so we can make eye contact and as our eyes meet I also see a big black strap-on in your hands and wonder if it was what you sought within your briefcase. You smile a knowing smile at me as you pet my head. You run your fingers through my grey hair and say, "Good piggy but now your Goddess has a special treat for you since you've been such a good piggy."

Suddenly, i feel something strike the back of my head and hear an angelic voice saying, "Wake up you fool and watch where your driving." "Yes, Goddess Helena" is my response. i begin to focus my eyes back on the road and driving Goddess Helena to her company so that she may do whatever it is she needs to do in the office. i can't help but wonder what will happen next. 



Goddess in the Water



How could they possibly laugh? Didn't they know he was dead? 

The young voices reached him through the scattered trunks of the slow-growth hardwoods. Male voices, excited and insecure, punctuated with the melody of a sweet feminine giggle.

Fuck. They didn't even know Scott - or Chrystal - had existed. Dusty ancient history returned to dust.

A powerful déjà vu swept over him, dressed in the tunic, broad white belt and accoutrements appropriate for Count Olaf Tentcleaver, as he was known by those who remembered the old days, and in a couple filks. 

He had walked off, he thought, at random, to gather his wits. But he knew where the young voices, that musical cascading laughter, came from. The Dunking Pool, where all this recent pain had begun, so long ago.

-----

Forty years ago, to the day. Forty Halloweens ago.

The newly knighted Sir Olaf had won the Crown Tourney here at this campground near Colfax, festooned with idealized medieval pageantry for the weekend.

He'd won thirteen straight fights. None lasted near a minute. Nine bouts, he threw only a single blow - a 'one-shot.'

Forty years later, half an hour ago, an older, gimpier Olaf's mind had wandered to that peak moment and day, away from the armored combatants in front of him, and from his gloom, the emptiness he had felt slam home again at the news this morning of the second death. Scott.

First Chrystal, the reason he and Scott hadn't really spoken in...a lifetime. Gone. And now Scott, hit by a truck last night on his way home from fucking Safeway. Safe Way. Not for Scott, was it?

Just standing, watching the fight, Olaf's knee buckled. It happened often enough that he was ready for it, caught himself before he was in real danger of collapsing to the grass. Still, it was embarrassing. He moved away from the Field of Honor, walking toward the woods, toward stillness and quiet, refusing to let stiffness or an untrustworthy knee slow him too much.

"The gods walk among us." 

Olaf turned, favoring the one knee, trying for a modest smile. He was a legend, granted, but hardly a deity.

No one. He had heard the resonant, friendly voice clearly, but there was no one in sight. He shook his head. Now he wasn't sure if the voice had been male or female.

He hadn't been the same since Chrystal's slow, ugly death, over a year ago. It had taken a year for him to reach out to Scott after decades of actively ignoring each other. Chrystal was gone, and she had been the grit that kept the forty year old wound fresh. After emails and a long phone conversation, they had agreed to meet here, this weekend. 

Only this morning, still donning his tunic, belt, and chain in the parking lot, had another old timer relayed the news: Sir Roderick, Scott, closest friend of Olaf's youth, was dead, his compact old Honda CRX crushed by a drowsy semi driver who had wandered across two faded yellow lines. Safe fucking Way.

-----

The laughing voices consisted of two young men in the Dunking Pool with a slim, giggling, wet nymph. The two youngsters could have been himself and Scott, forty years ago. But the lithe beauty, long colorless hair clinging to her shoulders and head, was her. Not could have been. Was.

Forty years later and she looked exactly the same, in exactly the same place, the same short dress of clinging translucence. 

The bigger of the two young bucks continued his chatter as she looked up, her eyes meeting Olaf. The voice dropped in volume, in importance, when those eyes abandoned the speaker.

Her thin, cautious smile disappeared for an instant before a wider, spontaneously delighted one showed small straight teeth, her delicate chin dropping, flashing a dimple. She recognized him.

No. 

No. When her smile had returned, brighter than before, he'd seen it wasn't truly her. Of course. She couldn't be, not forty years later. His heart was loud in his ears, his breath short. Her grin faltered, as though disappointed he hadn't returned it with as much enthusiasm.

The girl was beautiful and...similar. The face wasn't the same, but still had those gracile, elven features he would never forget. Features no other face had ever reminded him of, over decades, until now.

The dress wasn't the same either, he saw now. A thin shift of faded muddy green, instead of the blue he recalled, it lacked the sleeves he distinctly remembered. Sleeves of lacy flutters moving behind her arms as they sculled, languid, through the clear water so long ago.

He'd forgotten so much. Just today, Olaf had heard two stories about himself that he had no memory of until hearing them told. Why did he remember translucent sleeves over graceful arms, fluttering through water forty years ago?

His head turned down and away in defensive reflex as soon as the tears began to form. Olaf glimpsed what looked like real sadness, disappointment, on the girl's face before his vision blurred. Then she turned her attention back to her young companions. The exchange only took a instant. The young speaker may not have even registered Olaf's presence, or the slim nymph's momentary distraction. 

He hurried on, blinking, but not in time to stop matching wet tracks from running down from the corner of each eye. 

Fuck. That was how it all began, all those years ago. Right there in the damn Dunking Hole.

Olaf and Scott had been inseparable. Roommates and best friends. They found the Society - a group of paperback fiction reading history lovers who thought they would recreate the best of the Middle Ages - at an early Fantasy Con near San Francisco. It took less than a month before the two had combined carpet, leather and some scrap metal into crude but wearable armor, held together with dental floss stitched with a curved mattress needle.

Two years later, They were Sir Olaf and Sir Roderick, still inseparable, and now cutting a swath through the growing Hippy-geek-outcast-artist society of the Society. Then lovely Chrystal, Scott's new girlfriend, joined them. Lovely, passionate Chrystal.

-----

The three had arrived early at the campground, Scott following after his shift at work ended at noon, Olaf driving down first thing in the morning. Chrystal joined Olaf, to make sure he picked the best available spot for their campsite, before the best were claimed. Once they were set up and settled in, the muggy and warm afternoon air made a dip in the nearby mountain stream sound ideal.

The three had followed the winding trail to the Dunking Hole. There were enough medievalist campers already setting up that they weren't surprised that they weren't the first to think of a cooling dip.

She had been in the water when the three arrived at the pool, where generations of visitors had stacked, moved and restacked rocks to form a suitably deep soaking area, continuously refilling with fresh flowing water. The newly knighted Olaf had heard her laughter, a soft music trill, before they rounded the last bend and saw her in the water.

Walking behind the Scott and Chrystal, Olaf saw Crystal stiffen at the sound. Already holding Scott's hand, she gripped it tight. Her stance grew almost wary. She pulled his friend close when the pool came into sight.

The girl was slim and pretty. Very slim. With a wide, open smile. Pronounced but delicate features formed her face, with arching high cheek bones and wide-spaced almond eyes an unusual pale blue-green that nearly matched her thin, soaked dress. Even absentmindedly waving her arms through the cool waters of the pool, her motions seemed graceful and fluid, arms and hands moving more like jointless fronds of kelp than human limbs. Mesmerizing.

Her patter of laughs ended when she saw the newcomers, but her wide smile grew brighter. Olaf was sure he'd been mistaken, but he thought for a moment that her eyes had glowed briefly, or perhaps sparkled, when they had met his. Alone in the water, he briefly wondered what had brought her laughter.

The stranger was beautiful, but more attractive than that alone could explain. Her musical laugh washing over him, she squeezed in between the two knights once the three newcomers had settled into the water. 

When Chrystal cleared her throat, loud and annoyed, it took a determined effort for Olaf to drag his attention away from the new girl, her hand now stroking his thigh under the water, unseen leg close against his. Scott seemed entirely engrossed, did not react at all to his girlfriend's loud, clear hint.

Spending extra time with Chrystal, including the drive down early that day, Olaf had been almost ready to admit to having a crush on his best friend's girl. She was smart, low maintenance, and oozed sexuality.

Then Chrystal had stood up, out of the water, eyes blazing.

Olaf was stunned by the sight of her soaked, thin cotton chemise molded to every subtle and delightful curve as she rose up out of the dammed waters, eyes glaring at his friend in jealous, righteous anger. A small hand still stroking his thigh, Olaf stared up at Chrystal, displayed perfectly through clinging wet muslin, nothing hidden from throat to thigh, and knew he'd always remember that sight. And envied his friend more the squeals, giggles and other sounds he had heard in the darkness and coming from under a blanket.

Chrystal stood over them, dripping water. Face flush, radiant. Her eyes shot lightning at Scott, the fool completely engrossed in the slender beauty who had squeezed in between the two men, utterly oblivious to his girlfriend. 

-----

When the two friends returned to camp later Chrystal wanted nothing to do with Scott, and told him so in very colorful, explicit terms. He'd had no answer at all when she'd accused him of not only "fucking around on me, but doing it right in front of me, acting like you can't fucking even see me three feet away."

Olaf remembered: it was like exactly that. Nothing mattered but the slim, slick little nymph in the pool. He remembered the shock of snapping out of it, at the sight of Chrystal's clinging chemise and radiant, envious, angry glare staring down at the oblivious Scott. When she had stormed out of the water and away, Olaf's eyes had captured one last look at the thin wet cloth hiding only the deepest shadows of her striding, retreating bottom.

When the vision vanished with the first bend in the trail, Olaf turned as though commanded, saw Scott standing in front of the girl, legs submerged. The girl whose eyes held Olaf's. Held him with an intensity that made it clear he was not to look away again. 

She half floated, kept her eyes on Olaf as her mouth joined the slim hand that pumped his friend's cock. Scott's face shone with the idiocy of ecstasy, his eyes glazed, unseeing.

Her hips, slighter, less flared than the ones that had just stormed off, rose in the water. The sensual, beautiful Siren began to slurp and suck with abandon right in front of him, finally released his eyes as she turned her backside to him.

More than his eyes, his attention, his very being, were tied then to those lithe hips. Fully erect with no memory of any of the familiar intermediate steps, he reached for her in the thigh-deep water. His hands found her waist as twin pale globes broke the surface, fingers slipping under the filmy skirt bunched there.

Her upward movement dragged his swollen, sensitive bulb down between her cheeks. A numb, tingling, electric fire radiating out from where he touched her, the center of his unnatural focus. Floating, bobbing, her smooth soaked crevice stroked back against him, up and down, in time with the motions of her head swallowing Scott's length.

Her cry matched his at their contact: wordless, voiceless moans, hers muffled by the contents of her mouth. Frantic fingers found his thigh, a slim arm filmed with gossamer cloth reaching back just below the water's surface. They urged him closer. 

His tip found her welcome where the water met the air. No aiming, struggling, or adjusting. He pushed, opening her, feeling how ready she was.

Still, she was small. Even with his strong grip on her weightless hips it took the surprisingly strong hand she reached back, grasping further and deeper behind his thigh, to force her back onto him, force him fully inside her.

-----

Scott had driven off in a frustrated huff, unable to face Chrystal's accusations. Olaf had been in a haze of euphoria since the encounter in the pool.

Face up in his sleeping bag, the glow still filled him, fueled his stupid satisfied grin in the dark. The girl in the pool had been so attractive, so chemically appealing, and so intent on him. Scott had been a mild addition, simply because he had been present and there was so much intoxicating sex in the air.

The little nymph had been focused on Olaf in the water, focused with her body and desire, once Chrystal had left. And now he couldn't keep his mind from focusing on her. How her mouth had abandoned his friend as soon as he released his seed. How she had spun in the water, effortlessly graceful, while impaled deep on him. 

How she had ridden him, encouraging him to empty an impossibly wrenching, draining load deep inside her, and then continued on, keeping him at a feverish pitch of lust until he emptied himself in her a second time. How he had felt her body sucking him, pulsing and squeezing in ecstasy to take in every last drop of his offerings.

He heard Chrystal enter the tent. Other than a dim shadow as the flap opened, he couldn't see her at all in the inky dark.

"Ollie?" Her voice was tight, constricted. He heard the tears and frustration in it.

"Yeah." He hoisted himself up on one elbow. After a brief rustle, he felt her hand on his leg, through the sleeping bag. Having located him, she dropped down, pulling her knees up, wriggling her back against him. Olaf draped an arm over her, found the heavy wool cloak she was wrapped in.

"This sucks." He felt a twinge of pain at her voice. Usually so strong, so confident, her vulnerability left him at a loss so he held her in silence. Finally she spoke again, her voice small, unsure. "Will you fight for me tomorrow, Ollie?"

Tomorrow meant the Autumnal tournament, where each knight would fight to make himself the next King, and his Lady Consort the next Queen. He and Scott had often joked that the rule was put in place so the geeky nerds who had started the tradition would have an excuse to get a date.

"Of course." Even as he promised, he knew Scott would be furious, and rightly so.

She turned in toward him, buried her face against his neck. He felt the vibrations of her words, lips against his neck, louder than he heard their sound. 

"Make me Queen, Ollie." He shivered as the lips pressed close, under his ear. "And I will make you very happy."

-----

Of course he had made her Queen, fighting like a man possessed. Of course it ruined his friendship with Scott, who refused to speak to either of them after he heard of Olaf's victory, and the lady he had fought to honor. Of course, Chrystal had made him extremely happy that night, teasing and pleasing his exhausted body in ways he had never experienced, pleased him almost enough to distance his memories of a soaked nymph in the Dunking Hole.

Olaf and Chrystal had married, moved inland to the foothills of the western Sierras. She had honored her promise, making him happy for many years, and eventually even dimming slightly his haunting, bone-deep reminders of another girl in a swirling pool.

Mercifully, the cancer had been aggressive, quicker than the worst of them, and almost painless. She had just been so tired, so drained of vitality. Too drained to even speak near the end. The only sign of her vibrant, feisty life was the twinkle that had never left her eyes. Not until they closed the last time as he sat next to the hospital bed he had placed in their living room, holding her hand, lost and alone, listening in horror to those last harsh breaths.

-----

He hurried on from the Dunking Hole, the pace making him lurch to one side to ease the strain on his worse knee. He used the sleeve of his tunic to wipe the tears from his cheeks, shaking his head. He had set off walking at random, with no intention to return to that fateful spot. His feet, or some unrecognized yearning, had led him back there. 

Now, those feet led him upstream, a narrow game trail paralleling the creek. The path emptied into a clearing. The creek had widened at that spot, becoming an almost still pool of shallow water.

An old woman stood ankle deep in the pool near the bank, staring downstream. She was willowy, with long, grey hair plastered straight down her back. She appeared to have just stood after submerging in the pool.

She gave him a brief nod, a narrow smile, before her gaze returned downstream. 

"M'lady." He nodded in return. "I did not mean to intrude."

Her eyes returned to him, stayed. "You are not intruding, Sir Knight. Not at all."

Her voice was low, soft, musical, like distant bells.

Olaf bent his head in a hint of a bow. "I am Count Olaf. Pleased to meet you."

"I know who you are." The answer didn't surprise him; he was still well-known among many of the older Society members, even if he couldn't place her. "My name is..."

"Come again?" It was an old, immature joke and it came out without thought.

She giggled at his response to hearing her odd, lengthy name pronounced, covering her smiling lips with slender, graceful fingers. Looking at her, he wondered how a simple laugh could wipe so much wear and age from a face. When he had first seen her a moment ago, standing so still at the edge of the pool in her faded teal dress, the color bled away until what should have been a festive shade had now turned almost camouflage, she had seemed ancient.

Handsome, lovely, with high cheek bones framing her face, but ancient. Her skin was not sagging, but covered with tiny cracks and winding empty rivulets. Ancient, though the slim body beneath the clinging, flowing dress looked shapely and fit. Her long hair, not tied up but cascading over her shoulders, was a shimmering silver grey. 

Had her hair shimmered when he'd first seen her, before the laugh? He could swear it had been dull, dingy grey, that her posture had been more sagging, almost decrepit.

Now her eyes, also an unusual, faded green-blue, twinkled as she laughed. The back of the hand covering her mouth looked smoother than before; her face as well. 

She smiled up at him. A proper smile, open and friendly. It showed no age, no receding gums revealing too long of teeth. "You should see how they try to spell it. Call me Eddy."

"Eddy." Maybe he had heard something distantly resembling 'Winifred' in the long name she had rattled off. Maybe.

Eddy, like a swirling current of water, going against the flow.

He stood on the bank above the sandy-bottomed patch of water. Two leaves and - momentarily - a large red dragonfly resting on the flat surface indicated the lazy swirl of water back upstream along the bank, inches beyond his toes, defying the slow progress of the rest of the water down toward the dam of roughly stacked rocks that formed the Dunking Hole. 

Continuing its slow and doomed journey upstream to where Eddy stood, one leaf moved aside enough to slip past her slim bare ankle.

Olaf realized that she was standing in or perhaps on the shallow water. He stared. The water was clear; he could see the sand of the bottom inches below the surface. His eyes traced her shapely ankles down to the water but he saw no sign of her below. No feet, no toes, nothing disturbing the sandy bottom.

In shock, his eyes came back up to meet hers, now brighter than before. Her grin was wide and open, her skin toned more, her hair shimmering bright. 

Olaf inhaled sharply. He knew her.

His eyes went wide in shock. Not at recognizing that this old woman, this beautiful, ageless woman, was the same girl he had encountered yards from here forty years ago. His eyes went wide with surprise at his own inhaled breath. He hadn't been able to breath like that, without a sharp stabbing pain in his back, since an operation five years before.




Goddess in the Water



She smiled again, nodding. "What about your knees?"

He had stopped fighting because of them, especially the one that occasionally gave out, dropping him unceremoniously to the ground at the most inopportune moments. He had stopped jogging because of them, and that had been hard. His knees didn't ache now. Not at all.

He bent them slightly, heard none of the grinding, ruinous noises that had plagued them for years, felt none of the twinging fire that accompanied those sounds.

Her smile was knowing; his gaping jaw was almost comical in its confusion.

"What...what is this place?"

"Join me. I'll show you."

He didn't hesitate. And what a delight it was, to stand on one foot and tug off the other boot, trusting knees and back to cooperate. It had been years. 

It slipped off easily, exposing his bare foot. He had skipped socks this morning after it seemed his feet had either grown bigger or more swollen since the last time he'd worn this pair. He deposited both high leather boots, adorned with silver spurs, on the bare ground. He rolled his white Knight's belt before tucking it into one boot. 

Nimble. Olaf felt positively nibble as he scrambled down into the water, still wearing his tunic and light breeches. It was not a word he had associated with himself in a very long time. The water felt cool and fresh, splashing about his ankles as he waded over to where she stood.

Eddy took his hands in hers, looking up at him with those so-bright, so-delighted eyes. "Look."

She turned her face downstream, Olaf followed suit.

"What is this place, Eddy?" His voice held no concern or worry, but wonder. First, how his body suddenly felt young, new. Now, this view.

They looked down a gentle slope to where the stream slowed, dammed to fill the Dunking Hole. The young girl there was laughing, encouraging with stroking hands, as her two male companions held her pinned close between them, their bodies submerged.

The Dunking Hole was private. There was no spot like this, not now, not forty years ago, overlooked it. His gut, his strong, pain-free body, told him to accept, to not question, but his mind needed answers.

"I made this place. To wait and watch while my daughter grew." Eddy's gaze up at him was more serious, a trace of a smile leaking out at the very corners of her mouth.

"Your daughter? Aren't you worried about her down there with those baboons? She's too young to....what?"

Her sweet musical laugh stopped him. A cool hand released one of his, came up to stroke his cheek. So soothing, so soft. "She is far more a danger to them than they would ever be to her. She's doing what she's meant to do. And she's not that young, almost forty."

Again Olaf felt the inner conflict as his mind questioned while his instincts accepted. "That young girl can't be forty."

The cool palm held his cheek, fingers idly tossing his hair near his temple. "Listen.

"You did not intend to come here today, to where you and I met forty years ago. But I knew you would join me. Today. I knew you must, even after you looked away from me, at that other, angry girl."

"Angry girl? Chrystal? She was only angry that Scott..."

"Her. No one had ever looked away from me once they were in my waters. Except you. That was when I knew you to be the one."

"The one?"

"We only produce once; after all my many years, she is my child." She glanced downstream at the closely knit threesome, then twisted to look up at him, her eyes fixed on his intently enough that he didn't even consider looking away. "And yours."

"My...daughter?"

She nodded. "After we mate - the final consummation that brings forth the new nymph who will replace us - the one who quickens us is bound. Not to obey, but to...merge with the fecund, the soon-to-transform."

Olaf felt a stab of jealousy, regret that he hadn't been bound to this intoxicating being. "Transform? Into what?"

"Can't you see I'm different now? Aged? When you first saw me I had looked that way for nearly six hundred years." It was an evasive half answer, he knew it in his bones, but he was distracted by something else she'd said.

"The one who quickens you is bound, to merge with..." He puzzled the words out slowly, thoughtful. "I'm the one who quickened you. I'm not bound."

She smiled. "Are you here now?"

Her hand left his cheek, stroked around his neck. He let his head be pulled down, his lips brought to hers, standing in the knee-deep water.

Her kiss brought back a rush of sensation, the ecstatic timelessness of that time in the Dunking Hole, his focus locked on the lithe young nymph as he came and came again inside her, feeling her drinking him in, milking him for more and more.

Kissing her was like the freshest drink of cool mountain spring water. Crisp, hinting of vast oceans and cleansing spring rains, of slow rolling swells and irresistible torrents.

Passion filled him. Not lust, not the desperate need to fill this creature with his seed. Passion, clean open joy in the moment, in life, in acceptance, in love. His arms wrapped far around her slim form, pulling her close, lifting her against him as the waters buoyed her. 

Still the passion raised his blood and he swelled quickly, more surprising than his knees. Strong legs wrapped around his hips, now submerged. Arms snaked around his neck. Their clothes somehow no longer in the way, he entered her. Almost weightless, his bare feet light on the sandy bottom, he answered her tightening embrace with his own, pulling her fully onto him.

The sound of rushing water filled his ears. Cool splashes hit the side of head, his cheek and neck. A small cascade, a fall of water maybe three feet wide, dropped another couple feet to the pool. 

Rather than wonder at its sudden appearance on a bank that had been dry minutes ago, he welcomed it as a friend whose arrival was expected. His toes barely touched sand as their heads, lips still joined, dipped under the small waterfall. 

The rushing, splashing tumult ceased. Water embraced him tight. He was water, in this pool, this stream, in every delta, every ocean, every lake. He was water now, powerful patient water, in the lightless depths where human life was still fragile, alien, and afraid.

-----



Goddess Initiation



A full moon hung heavy in the summer night sky. It was like a scene from a movie but the reality of it was brought home to Graham by his heightened sense of arousal and the majesty of the individuals before him. He had been selected from a long list of applicants to witness a special ceremony like none other. The Southern Regional Obeah Society was having a rites of passage ceremony for one of its most exalted members. To the outside world, the organization was nothing more than a Black BDSM group that promoted Black Supremacy. In actuality, it was nothing of the sort. It was a group formed to restore true Afrocentric principles and governing regulations to those that chose to acknowledge Africa as their spiritual and cultural homeland. Hoards of submissive whites flocked to the S.R.O.S. members because they were so comfortable with their sexuality and power and it served as a natural aphrodisiac for those wishing to relinquish some white guilt. On this weekend, the Divine Mother Mistress Olutuunde was being given the title of Goddess. It was a sacred ceremony with traditions and practices taken from several West African religions and adapted to contemporary African American sensibilities. Meaning, no goats were sacrificed, no genitals were mutilated, but there was an amazing feast of food and libations and traditional dress, dance and ritual. 

Graham had been escorted blindfolded to a remote compound outside of Atlanta. His sense of direction was fine for a while, they started out on I-20 and made their way south on I-75. His chauffeurs obviously didn't want him to know their exact destination so there were some twists and turns en route that were intended to throw him off. They arrived at what seemed to be a four hour journey at a remote 30 acre piece of land that surely had been the property of a genteel slave master in days gone by. Graham was the only white person there and his own insecurities made him more self-conscious than the actual treatment he received. Everyone treated him with casual deference. He was insignificant to the weekend's festivities and he knew his place was to watch and to observe and to await his time to serve. 

Friday night, he witnessed all the weary travelers arrive and find their accommodations. There were about 35 to 40 guests in all; the majority of which were Black males. There were a handful of women that were also high ranking priestesses in the order, but this weekend they were acting as maidens to Divine Mother Olutuunde. They were to cater to her every need. Graham noticed that the Divine Mother treated them all with respect. He imagined that a white woman would not be as gracious with a similar amount of power, and wondered silently why there seemed to be no signs of jealousy among the women. His sensitivities to the differences in behavior were heightened by the fact that the he was the lone Caucasian in the group and he had no choice but to remark on the differing patterns. The rest of the women in attendance had risen to the ranks of Goddess already and were going to be officiating the ceremony. They remained out of sight mostly, preparing themselves with prayer and meditation in the solitude of nature. They were drawing on all of the spiritual energies and ancestors needed to raise Mistress Olu's vibrational pattern to that of a Deity. 

Saturday morning began a day of preparation and festivities. The Divine Mother was not to have her feet touch the ground so she was carried upon the shoulders of four men wherever she needed to be taken. She actually had no such need; anything and everything she desired would be brought to her with the snap of her fingers. The four men stood by her like sentinels guarding the throne. The women groomed the Divine mother all day, lavishing luxury and pleasure on her. Graham watched from the periphery, constantly aroused and amazed by the beautiful brown bodies before him.

The hand maidens took great pleasure in attending to the honoree. Graham watched in amazement while they washed the long, beautiful dreadlocs of the Divine Mother, at how they used a liquid black soap to create volumes of suds and massaged them gently from root to tip. They gently and repeatedly poured purified spring water from a pitcher through her hair until no signs of lather remained. The maidens then created a hairstyle that looked like a crown with her locks, and momentarily, Graham was ashamed that his fine, limp hair could not duplicate any such style. 

He watched in awe as they bathed her body. From head to toe, they caressed her smooth brown skin. Each maiden knew that one day she would be in the same position and she lavished all the pampering and care she would want on herself, creating a space in the universe for her actions to be returned in kind when it was her time to ascend. Intricate henna tattoos of ancient Adinkra symbols were skillfully applied to Olutuunde's spine, a spiritual road map of sorts for her energy to be raised up through her chakras. Melted shea butter was poured all over her and all ten hands of her lady servants massaged it in to every pore. Her skin glistened and glowed with rich deep tones and smooth, velvety perfection.

Graham swallowed hard as the women prepared to shave the beautiful cunt of Mistress Olu. She lay back on the down filled mattress and spread her legs. The male attendants stood erect in more ways than one, in their color sarongs and bare chests, as they watched. Graham was light headed, awed by all the beautiful Ebony bodies before him. He wished he could just disappear into the surroundings but there was little need for his nervousness; his presence there was more like that of a pet than a participant. 

They lathered her gorgeous mons and sharpened the straight-edged razor with precision and skill. Slowly . . . methodically . . . and with exacting movements, every hair was removed to reveal the silky, soft folds of black femininity. They repeated the procedure again, leaving her naked in a way that seemed more tangible than just having no clothes on. Her pussy lips were like that of a flower, delicately opening to reveal her inner most treasure. 

Each maiden, one by one, knelt at Olu's core and made tribute with her mouth. Each woman kissed, licked, and sucked that sweet pussy while the Divine Mother lay writhing in sensual ecstasy. Mother Olutuunde shuddered through a string of never-ending orgasms. Graham, knowing he could not relieve himself during the weekend's activities, stood in tortured agony awaiting his turn. His chance to drink from the beautiful Mistress was not to come any time soon. His opportunity to feast at the divine core was to come at a much later, more crucial stage in the weekend.

He made his way around the rest of the compound, pausing to take note of the strength and beauty of all of the people that surrounded him. He wondered inwardly how their ancestors could ever have been confused for being inferior. He marveled at their bodies, their skin, and their presence. Everything about them reeked of royalty and magnificence. 

Graham casually strolled to the barn on the property where no less than 20 black men were in various states of undress; all of whom were eating, drinking, dancing, drumming and working out. They were preparing for the night's main event. They were bonding; each man hand selected by a private council to participate in the initiation. Ascending to the position of Deity in the secret order is the second highest honor of the resurrected African tradition. The highest honor and privilege went to the men who were selected to impregnate the initiate. As Goddess Mother, she was to give birth to a Prince or Princess that would one day reign supreme. No one man could be selected to father such a child lest his ego become distorted with delusions of grandeur. Twenty men were selected, each for their special talents, abilities, and skills, to provide love, nurturing, support, guidance and the genetic materials to assist in the creation of the wonder child. No one would ever know who the biological father of the child was and it was of no importance. Yes, for a mother, the child would have the mother of all mothers and he or she would have twenty fathers that would love and protect him or her for life. The child would be the collective of the most superior genetic stuff possible. Graham watched as the men prepared and secretly hoped that their sperm would be the one to impregnate the Divine Mother Goddess.

Night fell and electricity grew in the air. It was a wild frenzy of celebration and circumstance. A huge bonfire burned and spat glowing embers to the cleared holy grounds, the land that held the bones of ancient survivors of chains of slavery and tyranny. Graham was a part of the processional, led in on a leash attached to his cock and balls. His pink erection looked almost laughable in comparison to the columns of Ebony flesh sported by Black priests of the secret Obeah society. He made himself comfortable on one of the hammocks and prepared for a long night. 

Incantations were recited in strange tongues and prayers were sent up to the heavens. Twenty men were to make love to this woman, which could conceivably take twenty hours or more if left to their own devices. Each man was limited to 15 minutes to not only deposit his load into the Divine Mother, but to give her pleasure. They had refrained from any sexual contact for six weeks and eaten a strictly vegan diet to prepare for their responsibility. Olu had prepared as well. In addition to her fasting and meditation, she had been trained in ancient Kemetic sexual practices from other women who had ascended to the rank of Goddess. They taught her magical techniques that the Western mind would find inconceivable. She was prepared to give all the men the most memorable night of their lives in more ways than one. 

The Divine Mother Mistress Olutuunde was carried in on the shoulders of her four body guards on their shoulders and placed on an altar. It was designed to have her comfortably recline in a position where her pelvis was at the same level of her lovers and allow the sperm to collect in her womb. She was radiant and joyful, almost too peaceful for someone about to be given the title of living God. 

Each man that had been selected to contribute his load to the mix stood in anticipation. They stroked themselves to arousal in a huge circle jerk of masculine showmanship. The maidens licked and kissed Olu in a grand display of lesbian foreplay. That alone was enough to get ancestral spirits aroused but that was not to be the grand finale as it were. A cloth bag with a mudcloth pattern was circulated between the men. Each man drew a smooth stone with a symbol carved into it. That was to be the order in which they were to "perform". A high priestess would send up a prayer and reach in another bag and pull out a stone. The individual with the matching symbol would be the next in line to perform. 

Graham was in agony; his balls were aching and he was desperate for some relief. The numb ache he felt was a turn on, he liked being deprived of satisfaction, it was his fetish. He knew that when the time came for him to release it would be explosive. 


The crowd was in a frenzy, desperate to know who would be the first. They were chanting and dancing and drumming and praying. Naked black bodies gyrated and moved in trancelike fashion. 

The first symbol was pulled. The lucky frontrunner was an artist and musician named Heru from the Philadelphia area. He was honey vanilla in complexion and had locs that cascaded down his back. His 6'even frame was sinewy yet muscular and his stomach looked like a rippled washboard. The muscles in his lean, athletic thighs flexed as he approached the altar. He looked down on Olu with love and affection and they tenderly touched fingertips in an act of intimacy. For the first five minutes of their exchange, they kissed. They kissed the kiss of eternal lovers reunited after a lifetime of separation. Silence fell over the crowd out of reverence and respect. Their kisses grew more passionate and more compelling, to a feverish pitch. Olutuunde's body arched up to receive Heru and they joined together for the first time. Everyone took a deep breath at that very moment except for Heru and Olu. They cried out into the night in sensual bliss. 

Tears formed in Heru's eyes as he experienced a sensation like he'd never felt before. He was confined in a prison of pure heaven and it was blissful torture. Olutuunde experienced pleasure of her own; Heru's dick was reaching her spot and stimulating her to fits of orgasmic bliss. She fucked him back, giving him pussy like he'd never dreamt possible. 

Graham watched, a lump in his throat, as the two lovers put on a performance that rivaled the best adult film he had ever seen. Never in his life had he witnessed two such beautiful black specimens in such a passionate exchange. Heru was glistening with sweat, Olu was moaning out into the night like an animal. Their body movements were like a dance. He fucked her harder and she responded in kind. The muscles in his ass flexed as he pumped and pumped some more. His steely erection was coated in her juices and he dug his fingers into her hips as he stood motionless and emptied himself physically and emotionally into the Goddess. 

One by one, symbols were called and Ebony suitors stepped up to the task. Graham watched as men the color of the sweetest molasses to rusty brown to golden tan and every color in between drove their hard cocks between the sweet thighs of the Mother Earth. Each man brought his own technique yet the all seemed to melt under the auspices of the task at hand. None seemed prepared to encounter the velvety walls of a true Goddess and many needed to be carried away in exhaustion and defeat. Graham watched as each ebony cock was withdrawn from Olu, glistening with the previous loads of cum that had been deposited and his mouth watered with envy. After a few hours, he moved closer to the scene, no one seeming to care if he got a closer look. 

As the night wore on, the men who had already gone began to get aroused again and pair off with the maidens. Not restricted to a time limit, they began to fuck like wild animal in the summer night air. Those that had yet to get their turn began to stroke each other. It was an African spiritual orgy, sex the way it was intended to be: open and free and without inhibition. Graham was high from the scent of sex and sweat and incense. He moved closer still, close enough to be but a few feet away from the vessel of Olutuunde. White frothy cum seeped from her lips and he openly wept and stroked his little erection furiously. Hard black cocks, attached to gorgeous Black men, fucking a Goddess right before his eyes was more than he could stand. 

In the wee hours of the morning when the last man approached, everyone gathered around closely. The Most High Priestess stood at Olutuunde's head and proclaimed to the night sky that her energy had raised to that of a Goddess. She spoke of her new powers and everyone stood in reverence to the birth of divinity before them. The last participant stood at the entrance to her soul. He took aim and penetrated her deeply. Olu reached yet another orgasm and a strange light appeared to emanate from somewhere within her. Graham blinked, thinking perhaps it was delirium and orgasm denial that had him seeing such things. He was in a dream state. 

The last man fell to his knees and sobbed. He was carried away while everyone else seemed to still be at a feverish high. The High Priestess officiating called Graham's name and said something in Yoruba that he could not understand. He knew his duty. He knelt between the legs of the Goddess. In true African tradition, the seed of the men that had collectively impregnated her could not be spilled. The other maidens could not be expected to perform such a duty, it was understood that only a white cum slut like Graham could perform such a task. 

Graham swallowed hard again. Olutuunde's cunt was raw and swollen and dripping with cum. Her inner pink flesh was crimson in color. Her sweat smelled sweet and the aroma from her pussy was a cum lover's perfume. Graham was desperate to lick her, to clean her well fucked pussy. Her swollen clit looked like a tiny dick, hard and erect and needing attention. The blood rushed to his face. All at once, the reality that he was going to taste the cunt of a Goddess hit him and tried to run out of fear. He wasn't worthy of such a task. The men assigned to guard the Goddess Mother held him by his arms, not allowing him to flee. The Most High Priestess grabbed him by the hair and moved his face closer and closer, his tongue just millimeters from the treasure. Graham was torn with emotion. He wanted to drink the cum from the Goddess Mother more than anything, he wanted to run, he was aroused at being controlled by the sexy men that towered above him and he wanted to stroke his cock with a desperation of a man that needed it to live. 

His heartbeat was pounding louder than the drums and he heard sounds come from him that he didn't recognize. He blacked out for a minute, only to be brought back to consciousness with his mouth lapping up the sweet cream of twenty black men. Through it all, he could taste the sweet cream of the Divine Mother Goddess. The silky smooth lips of her pussy were like velvet. She sat up for the first time for the evening and cum poured from her like a fountain and he tried to swallow it all. His lips formed a seal around her hole and he drank steadily. He swallowed mouthful after mouthful of what seemed to be an endless supply of Black cum. Assured that he wouldn't run, the guards released Graham's arms. Instinctively, he began stroking his hard cock. He drove his tongue deep inside the Goddess Mother and tried with all his might to lick her sweet inner walls. He was drunk with fantasies of sucking black cocks and eating shaved pussies and drinking the cum of superior men. 

Graham reached up and spread the full, brown asscheeks of the Divine Goddess Mother and dove his tongue in to taste what cum had collected there. He tasted her musky flavors and stroked his own cock that much harder. Inspired by the attention to her asshole that had largely been neglected all night in lieu of her mission to conceive, Olutuunde began to relish the stimulation to her sensitive back hole. Alive with sexual energy, she began to hump her glorious, sexy asshole on Graham's tongue. Graham, inspired by the thought that he could give pleasure to the Goddess-elect, began to zero in on her clit with the hopes of causing her to reach her final orgasm of the night. 

He glanced momentarily at the others in an act of asking permission. No one made an effort to stop him. He held her lips open and embraced her sensitive spot with his lips. Olutuunde began moaning loudly. He used his tongue to lap at it gently, circling it, caressing it softly. He could feel her thighs tighten up around his head. He began a relentless assault with his tongue and lips on her clit and held on for dear life. He could feel the tremors in her legs start and her panting was out of control. He licked more. His cock was ready to explode. He sucked her clit and sent both Olu and himself over the edge of pleasure, crashing to a climactic ending.

That Sunday morning, everyone lounged casually and ate to recuperate. Graham wanted to recount the previous events with others, to talk about how he had made the Queen Goddess cum with his mouth, but no one had a reason to converse with him. He watched as everyone packed to return home and continue to go about their lives in an every day fashion. He rode home, blindfolded and painfully erect, only to be able to know that he still had the cum of 21 of the most superior and beautiful black people in his belly. 



Goddess Lilith



My word is Law.

Whether it is in the at home or in my classroom everyone knows that I mean business and actions have consequences.

My name is Lilith Rose, but you can call me Miss. Rose, Mistress Rose, or Goddess Lilith, which ever suits you. I'm a high school teacher and where I work is none of anyone's goddamn business. I don't live to far from the school either, in a nice big house paid for by my late husband's life insurance and inheritance. 

How did he die? Well, lets just say his brake-line gave out, and I spent roughly a month with a slack-jawed drooling mechanic's little cock in my hand. Like I would let the loser touch me with that pathetic male organ.

Yes, I'm a lesbian, I married my husband for his money, and had one kid, a daughter I named Kate. She's a cute kid, especially since she turned eighteen. I love looking down at that little slut tongue fucking my cunt when I wake up in the morning with tears running down her stained cheeks.

I suppose I must describe myself. I'm gorgeous. I have long brown curls that pass over my shoulders and to my lower back. A DDD, 36 inch bust and weight about 110 pounds. My blue eyes are almost like ice and seem to radiate if I say so myself. I have a lovely tan from laying out by the pool and a tight round ass. 

At five foot three inches, one would think I don't demand attention like I do, but when I speak people know to listen. Watching them jump just because I said so just makes my pussy leak, one of the reasons I don't wear panties underneath my skirts.

My daughter was my first conquest since college. I'd been eying her as she grew older, with no maternal love for her or any affection for my husband, planning out what I would do to her came easily. After her father's death she had been so crushed, always a daddy's girl, she had become easy pickings for me in her grief.

I remember her waking up the day after her eighteenth birthday and the jerk of her movements as she realized something was wrong. It was easy, getting her so drunk she stumbled about the house after her little friends had left to go home, and watching her pass out on the couch. 

She woke up in my bathtub, her arms bound behind her in leather straps, her wrists handcuffed to her ankles. I had put a gag in her mouth and a hood over her head so she couldn't see or make a sound. Bu she still sloshed about in the few inches of ice water I had left her lying in. Her struggles made my nipples hard under my blouse as I listened to the movers take away the furniture in her room.

As I said, I had planned this for a while. Changing out her bed, dresser and vanity for some more productive furniture for her future activities had always been part of the plan. Her clothes were already boxed up and waiting for a little ritual I planned to have later, but first, I needed to wait for the moving men to get done.

It took nearly an hour for them to finish, all the time I ignored my daughters muffled screams and made sure to keep two closed doors between her and the men at all times. Finally the time came, the time to start breaking in my newest toy. 

I had worn a robe for the moving men and quickly tossed it aside after they left, leaving me in only a black corset and a pair of stiletto heels that reached my upper thighs and gave my ass a bit more oomph. I walked toward my bedroom and the master bath, taking my time as I enjoyed my daughter's frantic cries. I was so turned on I almost stopped to finger myself and relax, but no, I had more control than that.

Stepping into the bathroom, my little slut grew quiet and still as she heard my heels move over the tiles and stop near the bathtub. With a smirk I bent down and pulled the hood from my daughter's head, letting her dull brown hair fall free. Her brown eyes staring up at me in shock.

"Oh no," I said calmly, kneeling down to look at my daughter as tears poured down her face. "What on earth happened. Let's get you out of that tub," I acted innocently. Grabbing her roughly by the hair, I ignored her pained scream as I pulled her out of the tub and let her knees slam down on the hard floor. "Oopsie."

Kneeling, this little slut I had bothered to birth seemed to finally notice my shaved cunt in front of her face, and my bare chest looming above her. "Well, slut," I sneer, "now that your eighteen, I think its time for some changes in our lives, don't you?"

With a powerful crack, my open hand meets her cheek and would have sent her sprawling across the floor if I didn't keep a fistful of her hair. "I am not your mother," I growl. "I am not your precious mommy, you little slut. I am your new Mistress, your new. Fucking. Goddess," I say for emphasis as I reach for the cross her father had given her for Christmas just the year before and rip it off her neck, throwing it into the toilet nearby.

From the bathroom counter I pull a thick, spiked, leather collar and show her the pretty pink tag dangling from the chain. The words 'Mistress' Slave' emblazoned across it in black. With a grin, I replace her little necklace of her old faith with the symbol of her new one. After I get it latched, I slap her face again, leaving a deep red mark across her cheek.

"Now, we'll need to teach you what it means to be a worshiper of the Goddess Lilith," I say with a smile as I pull her back up by her hair. "First, you need to be baptized, slut." Bending my knees and moving my hips, I shove her face against my cunt before I push. I hadn't pissed yet that morning, desiring to hold it for this moment as I downed cup after cup of coffee.

A blast of my blessed urine pours over her face and into her hair before trickling down her body. She tries to shut her eyes against the maelström of piss but I quickly move my hands to the side of her head and use my thumbs to pry her eyelids open. Oh it was glorious, listening to her scream in pain, her gag resting against my lower lips sending vibrations through my body.

As my flow turns into a trickle I let her go, watching her fall to the floor in a puddle of my piss as she cries and writhes, trying to rub as her piss filled eyes. Smirking I turn back to the bathroom sink and grab her little stuffed bear, the one she'd had since she as born, another gift from her useless father. I wipe myself with that pure white stuffed animal, feeling its fur tickle my cunt as it leaves yellow streaks down its back. 

Lazily I toss it to the floor beside her and watch it begin to soak up my piss. "Mmm, that was just the first step slut," I say with a grin as I bend down and lift her up by her piss soaked hair. She's almost limp with pain but she still tries to cry out as I put her back on her knees. Grabbing the leash I had bought for her, I hook it to her new collar and choke up on it so the metal links are wrapped around my knuckles.

Without another word, I turn on my heel and begin to walk toward the bedroom, ignoring her pained cries as her knees catch each tile in turn before she tries to crawl after me. Pulling her into the bedroom, I lead her to a cage near my bed and open the door. "This is your new bedroom, slut," I say with a jerk on the leash that sends her sprawling on her bare tiny A cup titties. 

There are no little comforts inside the cage, no little dog bed, no water dish, nothing. "Get your fucking ass in there," I growl and slap my hand down hard across her exposed ass cheek. With a cry she hurries to comply and I slam the door shut and lock it with a combination lock. What do I care if there is ever a fire? She my possession and she can be replaced just like anything else in this house.

I left the room then, turning off the lights and leaving her in the dark covered in my piss. I have a phone call that needs to be made. I pull her from her fancy private school, saying that she was dropping out. She has no friends in our neighborhood, so I'll just deal with her spoiled little rich friends when they come by.

I sat on the sofa, turning on some day time talk show as I slowly slide my finger up and down my pussy lips, teasing myself. I'd be getting off soon enough, I kept reminding myself. I just needed to wait and let my suspense build for the right moment. Soon enough it was time for lunch and after a delicious sandwich I began the next step of turning my daughter into my cunt worshiping slut.

I took all the boxes with her clothes in them and set them outside on her father's old horseshoe dirt mounds. I dump the boxes out and then head inside to get my prize.

She's glaring at me as I enter the room and open her cage. A quick slap sends her head banging off the steel bars before I grab her leash and pull her out of the cage. "Who the fuck do you think you are glaring at, bitch," I demand as I smack her again, watching her fall to her side. I reach back and slap her again and again as her head bounces off my bedroom floor.

As my hand starts to sting as I stand up, her leash still in my hand and I don't even bother to pull her up. I dragged that bitch out of the room and down the stars, listening to her pained cries as she thumped down behind me. She really starts struggling when she noticed we were heading outside, but a quick kick to the stomach put a stop to that. 

She doesn't notice my strap-on, sitting on a nearby chair, as she tries in vain to keep up with my long strides as I pull her along to the pile of clothes in the yard. "Step two of becoming my worshiper," I say with an evil grin, "you must get rid of your worldly possessions."

Her eyes are large and still bloodshot from my piss as she looks at her clothes piled in the yard. I grab a bottle of lighter fluid from the grill and begin to spray her clothes down, the pictures of her friends and her father's family all jumbled up in the pile for her to see. With a quick stroke of a match, her precious belongings are blazing and my full lips are smiling as I leave her kneeling in tears.

While she is distracted, I slide on my eight inch strap on and take a bottle of lube to the grill to wait. I can see her crying and it makes me wet to realize I'm responsible for those tears. With one hand on my fake cock, my other hand grabs her hair and twists her to face me. I rip the gag from her mouth and as she opens her mouth to scream I stuff my rubber cock deep in her mouth. 

"Look at you," I coo with a dangerous smile. "So eager to please that your mouth just opens for my cock," I laugh. I rock my hips back and forth as she struggles against me face fucking her. When I notice her go to bite my dildo, I smack her hard across the face again and jam my fake cock so deep that I feel it penetrate her throat. 

"Good girl," I say with a grin as I begin the process of fucking my daughter's throat. "Take it all bitch," I moan, unbelievably turned on by the sight in front of me and push her head down on me until her lips are touching the ring holding it in place.

I thrust back and forth, not caring in the slightest if she can't breathe. It is all about me after all, and the high walls and distance between houses keep our activities private. She gags and coughs, covering my fake cock with her saliva before I finally pull out. "You're such a good little slave."

"F-Fuck you," she coughs out before my fist connects with her cheek sending her to the ground.

"Your Goddess doesn't like that type of language from her sluts," I growl as I grab the lube from the grill and spread it all over my dildo. Kneeling behind her I spread some on her cunt and shove my fingers inside her. "You're so tight, slut," I whisper in her ear as I pump my fingers in and out of her cunt. "I love virgins," I whisper darkly as before I bite her ear, hard.

She screams, but I know no one can hear us. I roll her on her back and open her legs, even as I turn her head to watch the still burning pile of memories. With a quick line up I thrust into her, not giving her time to react as I rip through her hymen. As a good Christian girl she had saved it for marriage. As her Goddess I knew it belonged to me.

Laying almost breast to breast with the little cunt beneath me, I fucked her hard and without mercy. She screamed, begged and pleaded, but I answered with spit in her face and harder thrusts. Her tears were beautiful to me, and I wanted more of them. Leaning down, I licked her cheeks, tasting the salt streaks on her face as I continued to pummel her cunt.

"Third step," I said with a smile as my tits bounced just a breath away from her own. "You take everything I give you, and I'll take everything from you," I explained as I felt the bubbled end of the strap-on rub my clit as I felt my own pussy flowing.

"The last step," I whisper, as I slow my thrusting, watching her turn her head to look at me. "The last step makes all the pain go away," I say as sweetly as I can. "Renounce your god and accept me as your one true Goddess," I explain as though it was the simplest thing in the world. "Worship me and I'll make the pain go away."

"I-I," she whispered, the shock and stress of the situation and the glitter of hope for a way out was making her easy to play with. "I renounce my religion," she said with a sob as she turned her head from me. My hand snaps out to her chin and forces her to turn to look at me. "I-I will worship you only my Goddess," she says sobbing.

"Good girl," I whisper before I spit on her face and thrust hard inside her. I keep it going, she stunned for a moment as she realized I lied, that I had made her give up on her precious God and made her pledge herself to me but I wasn't going to stop. I raped her for a good long while right there in the backyard under the clear blue sky before I got tired of it.

Without any ease, I jerked my dildo from her stretched, swollen and raw cunt and slid it down my legs, exposing my cunt to my daughter once more. I grabbed her leash and led her away from the pile of smoldering clothes and photos of her past life, and sat comfortably in one of the patio chairs and spread my legs in front of her face. "Well, just don't sit there."

I jerk the leash and her face is back in my pussy. This time there is no ball-gag, and her mouth and nose are enveloped in my pussy lips. I grind against her, and fill the first tentative licks of her pink tongue on my wet folds. Soon, she lapping at my cunt, probably hoping I'll get off soon and let her go. While my pussy is dripping, any thoughts of letting her go are the furthest from my mind.

"Oh, that's it slut," I nearly scream as she finds my clit and begins working on it. "Earn our Goddesses favor," I say as I wrap one leg around her neck and tuck it behind my other knee. "Let me tell you, I never loved your father," I say and watch as her mud colored eyes look at me with a bitter sadness. "I never loved you either, slut," I say with a twisted smile. "I've just been waiting for the day I could turn you into my living toy," I chuckle.

I have to grab her head and stuff it back against my cunt to get her licking again. I was so fucking close and she had stopped to cry. It was pathetic. Finally though, I had felt my orgasm growing nearer, I could feel a powerful rush from my clit to my nipples and back. I threw my head back and screamed as I soaked my daughters face with my juices.

It takes a few minutes before the world comes back to me, and I sigh as I let her go. She falls to the ground, her face caked with my cunt juices and her hair matted with my morning piss. It's nearly night by this point, so I take her collar and lead her inside. "The world is a changed place for you now, slut," I say with casual ease as I head into the kitchen to make myself something for dinner. 

As I eat a meal of steak and beans, I use my slut's face as my chair, and I can feel her tongue probing my asshole, getting used to the taste. She might have been a slut, my slut, but she was a fast learner, and I'd make sure she learned plenty in the coming days. After dinner, we went back to my bedroom where I let her continue to explore my ass with her mouth, even releasing a fart or two into her mouth to listen to her sputter and gag. 

My ass is a taste she'll have to get used to though. Her breakfast is brewing in my guts and now that I have her, I don't plan on using the toilet ever again.

When I'm tired of my ass getting and sticky from her saliva, I throw her back in her cage and slam the lock into place. "Wish me a good night, slut, and thank me for letting you be my slave," I demand.

"Thank you, Goddess," the broken little bitch says quietly. "Thank you for letting me be your slave and worshiper. Good night, My Goddess."

With a smirk I turn and grab a dog food bowl from under the bed and wiggle it through the bars. I hover near the cage and let loose a flood of piss into the bowl that splashes everywhere, but I don't care at the moment. "There you go," I say as my piss dribbles to a stop, I lean my cunt against the bars and immediately feel her tongue at work. "Make sure to clean every drop," I say pointing toward the floor. "Suck up what you can out of the carpet and get some sleep. You'll fucking need it."

Before I go to sleep I turn on a fan, letting its cold hair blow over her naked body as I tuck myself into a set of beautiful red silk sheets. I can feel my guts grumbling and I know, I'll be gifting my slave with a hearty meal for breakfast.