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She Dad

By: FirstTimer69



Daryl's wife, Jessica, always said he had a big ass. Her own ass was big full and round and she would make fun of the fact that he could wear her jeans and fill them out. It didn't occur to her that something else was going on until she caught him in her panties. He said he liked the material, but the truth was pretty obvious. he liked to wear women's clothing and she figured he liked other things that girls liked. 

It was Jessica's fault, one drunken night she insisted they 'dress up' and Daryl's plump ass filled out her panties and looked extremely feminine in her stockings. Daryl had a soft jawline and a wig and make-up and a bra made him more than a passable female -- he/she was pretty Hot. After a night of intense 'lesbo' lovemaking, when Daryl reluctantly took her smallest vibrator, he had changed. He wore her underwear. He started cleaning the creampies he deposited in her. She wondered why the batteries in her vibrators were always dead. He was truthful when he said he had never been with a man, but she wasn't sure she believed him after she caught him checking out TS websites. Daryl insisted it could be just another part of their relationship, but Jessica wasn't sure. She left on an extended business trip so Daryl could figure it out.

That meant Daryl would be at home to take care of their son who had just turned 18 and was a senior in high school. Daryl felt bad for his son, Jack, who was a cute enough young man with an athletic body, but sadly was stuck in a small religious town where the girls were so strict with their chastity belt panties, the high school boys were pretty much forced to marry to get any sex at all. 

Daryl's true journey began when he was taking out the trash late one friday night to notice Jack's car parked in the driveway. He heard a moan and realized that his son and his virginal girlfriend, Tiffany, were making out in the car. It wasn't going well from the tones of their voices, but Daryl moved closer to hear what was going on, kneeling in the bushes beside the car...

"Jack! I told you not to touch my boobs. You're only allowed to put your hands on my back while we kiss." Jack was getting frustrated, "I try, baby, but you're just so hot! At least let me touch you, through the clothes." They kissed for a while longer and suddenly Tiffany screamed, "Ewww... That's gross! I'm not touching your penis!" 

Jack was frustrated, "Not even a little? I took you to dinner, movie and even dessert." "I kissed you. That's payment enough!" Daryl winced, being a teenager in this town, sucked. 

Tiffany threw open the car door and stormed down the driveway -- she lived just down the street, so it wasn't a long walk. Jack scrambled out of the car after her and that was when Daryl was lost... As Jack stood up, his erect cock was also proudly standing at attention and bobbing out of the front of his jeans. 

There in the moonlight, Daryl saw his son's perfect eight inch cock, circumsized and smooth like polished wood. It was out and visible for only a moment, but it seemed to last an eternity -- the soft highlight on the head, each throbbing vein, the tuft of hair and the bulging balls beneath were burned into Daryl's mind. Time returned to normal Jack chased Tiffany down the drive, shoving his cock back in his pants while trying and failing to get her to return. 

In a daze, Daryl snuck back into the house and immediately went upstairs. As he climbed into the large lonely king sized bed, he noticed his own cock, an average six inches was hard as rock and straining uncomfortably in his wife's panties. He laid back and played back the image of his son's cock... damn... he wanted it and yet... it was wrong. He began to stroke his cock as he replayed the image again and again. A drop of precum oozed out and he wasted no time scooping it with his finger and feeding it to his asshole as lube. He moaned like a girl as his finger penetrated and he began to cum, harder than he had in months, all over his belly and chest. 

As he lay there, he wiped up the cum, licking it off his fingers. He felt warm all over and noticed something -- his finger was still deep in his ass and he liked it there. Problem was, it was waaay too small. He had to have his son's cock and he knew the only way he was gonna get it would be to become a woman. As he drifted off, a plan began to form in his head...

The next week, Daryl heard the buzzer on the dryer and realized he had left a lot of Jessica's underwear in there. Jack was unloading the dryer when he got there and saw the underwear, lacey g-strings, stockings, bras. 

Daryl tried to cover, "Oh, I was washing that stuff for your mom." Jack avoided eye contact, "Right. You know Mom said you're into dressing in chick clothes." Daryl turned red, "She told you that?" Jack made sure he kept his personal space as he put his clothes in the washer, "Yeah... she said you were working it out. So what's up with that?" 

"I guess I like it," Daryl admitted, "Does it bother you?"

Jack shrugged, "Probably would if my friends ever saw it. But it's really none of my business. You guys always say live and let live. There is one thing..."

Darly gulped, "What?" 

Jack shrugged, "Why do you do it?" 

Daryl smiled, realizing honesty would pay off as he collected the clothes, "I like pretending I'm someone else. Every one has fantasies about being a football player or a rock star. I like pretending to be a girl. The clothes are nice and soft, the make-up makes me look pretty. You can become an entirely different person. You ever wonder what it's like?" 

Jack shook his head and started the washer, "No. Way. But I guess I can see what you mean, like, why you do it. Have fun..." 

Daryl shrugged, he had laid it all out and Jack knew what the score was. He wasn't exactly open, but tolerance is the first step to acceptance. And then hopefully... participation. Friday night Daryl knew that Jack would be out with Tiffany and he'd come home frustrated. This time he would be ready.

Daryl took friday off and got the hair waxed off everywhere. He laughed when the wax girl squeezed his butt, she liked it too. Then he picked up a sexy bra with synthetic breasts. Then tanned with a bathing suit bottom -- the tan line of a bikini always accentuating a nice round ass and when he was done, his butt looked like one of those models from the Coppertone ads. 

He had practiced doing the make-up all week and checking Jack's internet history gave him a good idea of the women he liked -- big tits, big assed, dark hair. Black stockings, black high heels, a special pair of underwear, a short ass-hugging skirt, the push up 'filled' bra, he went with the 36 Ds that he had ordered weeks ago and some jewelry and some long nails. Probably a little too much make-up, lipstick, eye shadow and mascara, but the realistic wig with the shoulder length full black hair seemed to complete the whole package. 

Daryl didn't recognize himself in the mirror, but there was someone he had been dreaming about. She heard a female voice come from somewhere deep within her... 

"Well, hello Darla." 

Daryl had been practicing his voice for weeks, actually more like months... he'd listened to female authors read their books-on-tape romance novels on the way to work and found he could deliver a nice feminine voice after a couple months practice. 

Tonight would be the night to see if it paid off for... Darla.

"That's the last fucking time." is all Jack could think as he parked his car in the driveway. He'd spent all week kissing Tiffany's ass to 'earn' another date with her and she yelled at him for touching her tits, even threatening to tell her dad this time. Jack drank two beers with his buddy Manuel just to blow off steam -- but going home early on Friday night with blue balls was becoming a sad habit that he desperately wanted to break. At least he could jack off to some internet porn.

He came in the house, there was a smell he didn't recognize, sweet, flowery -- kind of perfume. He sat down on the living room couch, noticed candles were lit. What the hell? He heard the blender grind to life in the kitchen and figured his Dad was up to some of his antics. As that thought set in, he figured maybe he better leave. He started to get up when he saw "her" silhouetted in the doorway: 

Shoulder length black hair draped around the shoulders and a black blouse tightly hugging some pretty nicely curving breasts and hips before the dress ended mid-thigh in stockings that flowed into the some think strapped high heels. He could make out vague facial features -- but all he saw strongly was the red lipstick and green eye shadow. Jack asked, "Hello?" 

"Oh, hi Jackie." Darla responded with the feminine voice she'd been practicing. She moved out of the doorway and Jack saw this extremely sexy woman approach him, then realized as she approached, "Dad? Is that you?"

"Darla. I'd appreciate it if you called me Darla when I'm dressed like this." she purred as she approached, a hefty glass full of margarita. He recoiled a bit, feeling weird, "Uhh...Okay." She immediately filled the awkward silence that followed "I thought you had a date tonight. I expected you later. Hope you don't mind." 

Jack, "Uhh...No, it's fine. Just gotta get used to it, I guess. My date didn't work out. Tiffany is a fucking bitch." 

Darla put the drink in Jack's hand, "Here... this'll help. Come in, sit down... tell me what happened?" They sat down on the couch and Jack took a big swig of the drink, it was fruity but the tequila was strong. Tequila always got him buzzed quick and made him horny -- he probably shouldn't be drinking, but it tasted great. Speaking of great, Dad--uhh--Darla smelled really good. Stripper good.

"Same old Friday night. I take her out, spend money on her and get NOTHING in return. Don't get me started..." "That's what I'm here for." Darla sat back on the couch, nodding as Jack diatribed about what a useless cunt Tiffany was. Yeah, she was pretty and popular and could be fun at movies and bowling -- but when it came to making out, she was a prude. 

When his drink got low, Darla produced a pitcher of Margaritas she made and refilled it. As Jack drank, his voice slurred and Darla caught him staring at her tits -- her cleavage was full and round and pushed together. The size he'd asked for was a 34C, but they felt like 36D... heavy and grapfruit sized. 

Darla noticed, "So, what set her off tonight?" Jack ranted, "We're kissing and I put my hand on her tit. And she moaned while I kissed her, I know she liked it. Then as soon as I start to squeeze, she freaks out, practically breaks my hand!" Jack immediately leered at Darla's cleavage again.

Darla realized now was the time and took Jack's hand and put it to 'her' breast, "Go ahead, feel it. I know you want to." Jack started to pull away, but Darla wouldn't let go. He finally let her pull his hand to her breast, "Okay, I am curious." 

Jack palmed Darla's breast, feeling under it and getting a full handful "What the heck -- feels real. Or at least, I think it feels real." 

Darla giggled, "Well it's as real as money can buy. They're fake." Jack laughed, but didn't remove his hand, "Feel real to me. Tiffany never let me squeeze... but I always imagined they felt like this." Jack continued to feel Darla's tits, he liked it. It made him think of the chicks on the internet. Uh-oh! He was getting an erection. Disturbed, he immediately let go of her. 

Darla noticed his erection and brought his hand back to her boob, "It's okay... Let me show you..." She took a big risk and put her hand on his chest, feeling his pecs. Darla rubbed his nipple between her long nails, she realized it was now or never-- time to put her plan into motion...

"I thought you should know how to touch a woman's breasts. How to please her.... so the next time you get the chance, you'll know what you do." Jack had never thought it of it that way, "Shit! You can show me?" Darla smiled, "Sure, you can practice on me. But if we're going to pretend, I'm going to practice too... practice being a real woman and how she would react. Okay?" Jack shrugged, "Okay." 

Darla pulled him to his feet. Jack followed, adjusting his cock so it was against his belly and not sticking out so visibly -- although it was still obvious. Darla hugged Jack, "Let's dance to start with." 

Darla swayed against him and he felt awkward and put his hands on her shoulders. "Okay, that's a start, but you have to show a woman that you want her." She pushed herself against him, he could feel her breast against his chest and his cock against her thigh. Jack avoided face to face and put his face beside 'hers'. This was weird for him, but god she felt great.... "She?" What was happening to him?

Darla had been careful and taped her cock down so there wouldn't be any boner on boner action to disturb him. She grabbed Jack under his arms and hugged him, pressed her face onto his shoulder, "Jack... pretend I'm a woman." Jack exhaled and hugged her, moving his hands down to her waist. "Good." she encouraged, "You say more with your body than you can with your mouth." 

Darla's education continued, "However... while you are trying to move on a woman's body with your own, you have to talk to her to keep yer mind stimulated too. Compliment her." 

Jack shrugged, the whole experience was surreal and yet he was turned on. Darla was subtly rubbing her thigh against his cock as they danced to keep him turned on. He put his face in her hair, "Well... your hair smells great. Reminds me of Tiffany's." 

Darla, "Thank you, Jack. But never compare one woman to another." Jack winced, "Okay, Da--DARLA. Sorry." He shrugged, "Uh... you look really great tonight. Your skirt is nice." 

Darla smiled and gave Jack a reward, lowering his hands from her waist to her hips. "Really?" Darla purred, "It's not too tight? Doesn't make my butt look fat?" Jack continued as he moved his hands down onto Darla's ass as if to check, "No. Wow. You're ass, ur, BUTT is like... perfect." Jack squeezed Darla's ass top down to bottom, each hand filled with a meaty round cheek. 

Darla was starting to get turned on by Jack's squeezing of her ass. This in conjunction with his stiff cock rubbing against her thigh was giving her an erection of her own. She felt her cock start to pull away from the tape! She hadn't figured it would get so hard! About to spring her boner right into him, Darla abruptly spun around in his arms, hitting him in the face with her hair as she turned her back too him. Just in time too, her cock was hard and loose and pushing out the front of her skirt. 

Jack was puzzled by Darla's sudden move, unsure of where to put his hands, which were still about waist level. Darla moved his hands up to her breasts as she backed into him, covering with a giggle, "Since you like my ass so much, here you go." 

Jack smiled he like this, always fantasized about this position. Darla manuevered her hips to trap Jack's erect cock in her ass cleavage. She humped backward a little, grinding against him. "Hold me and tell me what else you like about me." Jack moaned as her ass flesh pinned his cock between their bodies, "Uhhhh..." Jack was getting worried he might cum, but he gathered himself. "Well, yer hips are really, uh, sexy too." She dragged his hands away from her breasts down to her hips, "Feel them. Hang on to them." 

She continued to grind her ass against him, essentially jacking his cock with her ass cheeks. She felt him start to push against her, he was dry humping her!!! Darla was now just as hard as her son was and his meaty pole between her ass cheeks totally turned her on. Her asshole fluttered under his hot cock sliding above it. She wanted him inside her so bad, but she had to contain her lust. She leaned her upper body back to him and put her head on his shoulder, "What else do you like?"

He was buzzed and horny, "Well, I like your hair. And your lips. They're really nice."

Darla turned around and smiled, face to face with Jack, "Well... let me show you what I can do with my lips." Jack closed his eyes and winced, afraid his shemale dad was gonna kiss him. Darla knew better than that. While Jack's eyes were closed, she dropped to her knees in front of him. Jack felt the tug of his zipper and barely got his wits and his eyes open by the time Darla had his pants at his thighs, boxers and all. 

For Darla, it unfolded in slow motion. In the light of the candles, Darla's prize was freed -- Jack's virginal eight inch cock bounced out in front of her. She paused as the realization of her success hit her. The plan had worked...

But this was the moment of truth for Darla. She had of course fantasized about sucking cocks and being fucked by cocks, but had never had one in her mouth... or even in her hand besides her own. As if reading her mind, a nervous Jack managed to utter, "I've never done this before..." Darla slowly wrapped her hand around it, feeling the soft warmth of the skin contrasted by the stiff throbbing power within it. "Neither have I, baby." Darla's response relaxed Jack, he wasn't the only virgin here. 

Darla pushed her pursed lips onto the head of her son's cock. The heat of his skin surprised her. Her lips parted ever so slowly, she wanted to savor this moment as she flattened her tongue and his head popped inside her lips. Jack groaned, "Oh god." 

Gripping his cock, Darla jacked it, pushing more blood into the head, which swelled in her mouth. "Mm-mmm," she moaned as she tasted him, waiting as she tightened the seal her lips had on his pole as she increased the suction to suck on the head. Darla wasn't going to do anything else, though. She wanted him to show her he wanted it. He sensed it, because almost immediately she felt him push his pelvis forward... pushing his cock deeper into her mouth! She relaxed her lips and let him push three more inches in... and his cock stopped at the back of her mouth. She held it there, savoring the fleshy taste, letting it own her. Jack felt the wet heat of Darla's mouth on his cock and he was in heaven. His first blow job was everything he fantastized about for the last few teenage years.. but it had only just begun. 

Darla slowly pulled back and pushed forward as she began her first blow job as well. One thing that surprised Darla was the amount of saliva she was generating. She was drooling all over her son's cock and she pushed in and out of her mouth. Sure, she started out with a basic in and out, but soon utilized all the usual tricks 'her' wife had used on 'him'; opening her mouth wider than the rod and pulling in cool air, swirling the tongue under the head, etc... It wasn't long before Jack groaned in a way that meant he would be coming soon. Darla didn't want that yet. 

Darla pulled offf and jacked the top of his cock as she licked all the way down the shaft. She licked up and down it like an ice cream cone. Her goal was to tattoo her tongue on every square millimeter of this beautiful piece of meat before it fed her -- just in case she never got it again. "Do you like that, Jackie?"

Jack nodded, his mouth couldn't form words, "mmm-hmmm." Jack noticed Darla had her other hand on his thigh, using it to steady herself. As Darla nibbled the head of his cock, she looked up at him, "A woman likes to know how to please her man. She likes him to be in charge... show her what he wants." Darla took her free hand and moved it to Jack's hand, bringing it to the top of her head. She took the head of his cock into her mouth and waited. Jack's hand tightened on her head and he pulled her mouth onto his cock. Darla smiled as her son filled her mouth with his cock and she thought, "Gotcha."

Jack was now an active participant as he controlled Darla, pulling and pushing her volcanic mouth onto his meat. He savored the alternate cool air on the outside, warm wet mouth on the inside. The tight velvety seal her mouth made around his cock was heaven and she was driving him crazy with the occasional tickle from her tongue stimulating the area under the head. He was surprised, Darla seemed to be really good for her first time. 


She Dad Ch. 02



Read part 1 to get caught up.  

*

Following the life changing events of Friday night where 'Darla' had given 'her' virginity to her virgin teenage son, Jack, sucking his cock and allowing him to fucker her ass twice... there had followed a dramatically uneventful weekend. 

Darla had prepared a new outfit consisting of a catholic school girl's uniform, red skirt, tight white top, bobby sox, slutty make-up, the works to greet Jack after his track meet on Saturday, but he never came home -- instead sending a text that he was staying at a friend's. She woke up Sunday and modeled the catholic school girl outfit, adding thigh high stocking only to discover she didn't have any matching panties. 

Darla dug through the closet, finding her ex-wife's suitcase where she discovered quite a few pairs of basic panties and decided on some plain white ones. Her fat luscious ass cheeks barely squeezed into them, but when she bent over and looked in the mirror, with her finger pushed between her bright red lips, she knew Jack would appreciate it too. 

The very thought of his thighs hammering at the back of hers made Darla's cock tingle. Trapped against her belly by the tight panties, it tried to grow and the friction made the sensation even more intense. She flopped face down on the bed and reached back to pull the panties between her cheeks and yank it rubbing across her asshole as she humped the bedspread. She stroked herself to the point of orgasm, then abruptly stopped. Relucantly leaving the bed, Darla groaned in frustration, she wanted to save her orgasm until Jack's big fucking cock was deep in her ass. 

Sadly, Jack didn't come home until almost midnight and he immediately went up to his room, calling a goodnight to where she waited for him in the front room. She was more than hurt. Darla was pissed. And drank wine until she fell asleep.

Darla was awoken monday morning as Jack called a good morning on his way out the door. 

That was it. Darla pouted, certain she had lost him and his perfect fucking penis. Darla decided she and her big fat delicious ass had gone long enough without something inside them. She was left to her own devices, in this case, the 'devices' were a pair of 'her' ex-wife's suction cup vibrating dildos. 

Each was about seven inches long with a rubbery gel texture and had a width of only about an inch and a half. Darla wanted to keep herself tight for Jack, but then remembered, she might never get his cock again. She decided to take a cold shower. It occured to her as the water hit her that a cold shower with dildos was ridiculous. 

In the shower, Darla mounted one suction cup dildo on the wall so the shower would hit her side and then dropped to her knees to suck on it. She adjusted the water to hot. Who takes a cold shower anyway? With the water hitting the side of her head, the shape and length of the dildo felt nice in her mouth, but it lacked the warmth and juicy reward a real cock could provide. 

After slobbering on it a bit, Darla got up and turned around, pushing her ass against it. Her asspussy was supple and soft, having been lotioned and lubed all weekend for a fucking that never came. 

Darla discovered that she loved to feel a cock that used its own hardness to spread her cheeks as it moved into her. After a moment of resistance, her spincter opened and she wiggled back on the cock until it slid in. Darla bottomed out with the cock all the way inside and her cheeks pressed against the cold tile of the shower wall. 

"Eep!" Her asshole spasmed in surprise, it was a cheap thrill. At this point, she'd take it.

She role the rubber cock for a few minutes, manuevering her hips so that tip bumped against her prostate. She looked down to watch her cock harden, the fake rubber balls bouncing off her fleshy ass. She imagined it was Jack. Missing Jack's cock began to turn her off, so Darla then went about attempting to practice a dream for her, by placing the other dildo on the shower door, even with her head when she bent over. 

Darla's body was just short enough that she could fuck herself all the way onto the cock and then twist her head around to get a couple inches of the other dildo into her mouth. She spread her legs slightly for balance and savored the position -- she was a spit with a cock in each end. She moved a little forward and the cock slid shallower in her ass and the one in her mouth moved in to touch her tonsils. She backed deep onto the cock in her ass and the cock in her mouth slipped toward her lips where she could nibble the head.

It was Darla's first Double Penetration. 

Darla giggled around the cock in her mouth, the feeling of being filled at both ends was stimulating in a way she'd never experienced. She also realized how lucky those porn star whores were to have a cock kpumping them at both ends -- no wonder they loved it. Even though it wasn't Darla's first 'real' DP, it was good practice and it didn't take long for her own cock to start oozing with precum. 

The hot water from the shower splashed down in the muddle of her back, some running down her crack to provide a little extra lube. She kept up the pumping, building in intensity, moaning around the dildo in her mouth knowing sensing she was going to cum without touching her own cock!

All at once, she felt the familiar tingle -- she wanted to grab her cock and milk it, but she resisted, instead desiring it be the cocks alone that made her cum. As Darla exploded, she rammed the cocks back and forth into her body from both directions with such frantic passion the shower door almost came off the hinges. At the pinacle of her orgasm, she backed her ass as far onto the dildo as she could and twitcher her asshole around it, milking it for cum that it did not have to give her. Losing herself, she grabbed the dildo in her mouth and stroked it furiously, wishing cum from it as well.

As she came down, Darla pulled off the cocks and looked down to see the last of her cum wash down the drain. She regreted not catching and eating it, but the thought of eating cum brought her thoughts back to Jack. Darla was satisfied from the sex, but not fulfilled.

Mid-afternoon Darla decided to try once more with Jack. A hail mary. She'd use what she knew worked; the black dress, fishnets, long black wig and the slutty makeup. Just as she was adjusting her fat fake tits in her bra did she hear a pounding on the front door.

Outside, Pastor Ted Davis hammered with an angry fist, "Jack Brown! Where the heck are you?" 

Darla approached the door, she was expecting her son, not the forty something neighbor who was the father of his son's girlfriend. Darla winced, wondering if Ted would see through 'her' disguise, but she had practiced her girly voice for a reason and threw the door open, confidently saying, "Excuse me. Jack isn't here." 

Ted was stunned a moment by the apperance of a woman at the door -- he had heard the Jack's mother had left her husband. He quickly recovered and fired back, "What about his Father... What's his name?" 

Darla cooed, "Daryl? I'm afraid you'll have to talk to me, Mister..." 

Ted softened his tone, "Pastor Davis. I'm sorry if I alarmed you, Miss..." 

"Darla. I'm Jessica's sister." 

Coming out his rage, Ted took a look at Darla, she wore a lot of make-up, kinda too much in his opinion as it made her a bit whorish looking, but he found himself staring at her cleavage and his eyes dipped to her fishnet stocking covered legs. Darla brought his attention back to her face, "If there's a problem with Jack, come in and we'll talk about it." Darla turned and headed inside to the kitchen.

A bit flustered, Ted found himself mesmerized by her large full ass and started to follow, regaining his composure "Look, this is between me and him. Or his father. It's about my daughter." 

Once in the kitchen, Darlas pointed to a chair and continued to the fridge, "How about something to drink?" 

Ted noticed that her high heels pushed her ass out with a nice swaying action with every step as he sat down at the table. He could smell the perfum she wore, it was feminine and sweeter than the stuff his wife wore. Ted had to adjust his pants as he sat because as he did his cock brushed against his thigh and had begun filling with blood. He hadn't had the weekly lovemaking with his wife, as was provided for in the bible. "Sure. Maybe a soda..." 

Darla snapped the top off a beer, pushed it into his hand, "Sorry, it's all we've got." Darla sat down across from Ted, "Now, what did Jackie do?" 

Ted sipped his beer, getting angry again, "He tried to touch my daughter's breasts. I heard about it from her telling her friends, and it is one hundred percent UNACCEPTABLE!"

Darla giggled, "Well it's the end of the world isn't it? A teenage boy showing sexual attraction to the teenage girl he likes."

Feeling silly, Ted took a long drag on his beer, trying to maintain his stern attitude, "That's my little girl he did it too."

Darla shrugged, "She's an attractive young woman, Ted. You're going to have to get used to this. You know what I think? You're overreacting..." 

Darla got up and walked toward Ted. He looked up at her, uncertainly, "What are you doing?"

Darla moved behind Ted and began to massage his shoulders, "Just trying to calm you down. Wow... You're tense." 

Ted relaxed a little, it felt very relaxing. Darla moved her hands down to squeeze his biceps, "Ooh, strong too." 

Darla then stroked her nails along his back sensually. Ted relaxed more and felt a tingling in his groin. He tried to will it away, but he was getting an erection -- his wife had short nails and never used them like this. They were caked with mud from her gardening half the time anyway. 

Darla could see Ted's cock harden against his leg in his pants... it was a nice big one. 

She smiled rubbed lower, stroking his chest, brushed her nail across his nipple. "Why don't you explain to me why you are so uptight about this." 

Ted shivered as Darla wrapped her arms around him, but tried to keep his composure, "You know I'm pastor at the local Baptist Church. In our congregation and my household, premarital sexual contact is not allowed. The bible forbids it. My wife and I stick closely to biblical principles about this subject." 

As Ted finished his beer, Darla abruptly left him. He was disappointed until he saw her pull another beer from the fridge and hand it to him as she pulled him to his feet, "Let's go into the living room, you'll be more comfortable and tell me more." 

Ted hobbled, trying to hide the erection rubbing against his pants as Darla sat on the couch and pulled him down beside her, "My wife especially doesn't allow Tiffany to do any messing around. She will be a virgin when she's married. You understand?" 

Darla smiled, nodded. Ted suddenly realized Darla was rubbing his thigh now as she cooed, "I understand, but you were a young man once. You know how hormones are raging and how hard it is to control yourself. Jack has feelings for Tiffany and wants to show them. It's nature." 

Ted noticed that somehow his hand had ended up on Darla's back, "Yes, it is the sin nature. I can see you're right to some point... but my wife will not see it that way. She'll create all sorts of problems over this. She wants to make an example of Jack so the other boys will know what's in store if they try anything with Tiffany." 

Darla moves her hand onto Ted's groin, his cock was rock hard and she could feel the heat of it through the cotton dockers, "Hey, what are you doing?" 

Darla stroked Ted's cock through his pants, she gripped it and felt it throb against her palm, "Your wife sounds wound pretty tight. I would like to do her a favor..." 

Ted looked puzzled, "Let's just stop, I don't think..." Darla swung around and dropped to her knees, pulling Ted' zipper down in the same motion. "Oh, no no... What are you doing? We can't do that. I can't do that."

Darla didn't have to fish Ted's cock out of his pants, it burst out, at least seven of his nine inches, "Wow! I think you can, Ted. I'd like to help out your wife." 

Darla reached to grab Ted's cock, but he grabbed her hands first. Darla lunged in and kissed around the tip of his cock, her lips parted, "This would be for her..." 

Ted was trying to back away from her mouth, but her tongue was suddenly on him "But only if you want to..." 

Ted finally relaxed, put his hands in her hair, "Please... my wife... she never puts her mouth on me... Please do it." 

Darla smiled at him and enveloped Ted's cock in her mouth with one smooth move, taking a good five inches and then coming back up. Every inch of Ted's cock was so delicious, it induced a mouthful of saliva into Darla's mouth. She didn't waste a drop, drooling it all over his cock and balls as she stroked it in and out of her mouth, pushing it as deep as she could. An inch longer than her son's and probably an inch and a half thicker, she savored it's taste. 

She wondered how it would feel in her ass -- just the thought made her sphincter flutter in anticipation. As Darla worked Ted's meat, she reached to feel her own cock harden. Wow, she was turning into some kind of cockslut! She wanted to stroke herself, but it might be a problem if Ted discovered her secret. All in good time, Darla thought, as she worked into a steady rhythm, bobbing her head and stroking with her hand. 

Suddenly Darla tasted a bit of salty warmth in her mouth... She pulled back to see clear pre-cum ooze out. She licked her lips and captured it on her tongue, savoring it, "Oh Ted... you are so fucking tasty! I might just have to do this every day!" 

Ted's face was crazed with lust as he pushed her head back onto his cock, "Oh please don't stop!"

Feeling Ted approaching orgasm, Darla abruptly pulled off, gripping his cock tightly at the base to keep him edged at orgasm. Ted looked like a baby who had the candy snatched, "What's wrong?" 

Darla wiped her mouth, "This whole Tiffany thing, you coming down on Jack. It's going to really upset him." 

Ted stroked Darla's hair, tried to guide her head back down onto him, "Hey... forget about that. That's over. Tiffany will have to learn to deal with stuff like that, like you said." 

Darla resisted, "I don't know. I've heard that Jack has done a lot for her, driving her around town, expensive dates and she's been kind of a bitch to him."

Ted frowned, "I know what you're trying to do here...And I won't trade my daughter's virginity for a blow job!"

Darla immediately put Ted's cock back in her mouth saying amidst passionate sucks, "Mmmm...I don't care about Tiffany's virginity. I wanted to suck your cock, Ted. And I want to swallow your cum. But I want my son...ur, Jack to be happy too. He's a good kid and doesn't deserve to be punished over this." 

Darla immediately went back to work giving Ted a deep sloppy blow job. 

Ted relaxed and settled back in to enjoying Darla's tongue flicker on his head, "Okay...I'll lighten up on Jack, oh god, use your tongue like that... but he's got to come back to Church regularly." 

Darla paused, "And..." 

Ted shrugged, "I'll encourage Tiffany to relax a little. But my wife is going to be a problem." 

Darla licked the thick tasty pre-cum flowing out of Ted's slit, "Until she does this for you... you're gonna have to keep her in her place. Are we clear, Pastor?" 

Ted pushed Darla's face back onto his cock, using her hair to guide her mouth with some force, "Oh fuck yeah, whatever you want."

Feeling victorious, Darla let Ted grind his pubes against her lips as he fucked her face. Nearing orgasm again, he moaned and his thigh muscles started to clench, Darla applied suction and pulled back, holding the head of Ted's cock between her lips and began to stroke his drenched meat with both hands. "Oh fuck!", he shouted and began to cum. 

Darla opened her mouth and pumped his jiz onto her tongue, she looked up and batted her eyelashed as Ted looked down, groaning as he filled her mouth with rope after rope of his pearly white semen, "Uhhh...Uhhh...Uhhh..." 

Darla closed her lips over his head and swallowed one creamy delicious and very full mouth of cum, but Ted caught her by surprise and kept cumming, shooting another three ropes to paint her mouth white. The sheer volume almost gagged her. 

The realization of what Darla had just done turned her on so much that she pulled Ted's cock deeper into her mouth and nursed on it as she came in her panties, moaning as she reached under her skirt to stroke her cock, "kkkkmming..." 

Ted realized 'she' was orgasming from the bj alone, "Oh dear god! You are one hot bitch!" 

Suckling his cock, Darla swallowed again and managed to moan, "Mmm-mmmm, I'm hot for you, Ted." 

Darla started cleaning Ted's cock when she heard the side door close. Ted was so off in afterglow land he hadn't heard it and Darla smiled as he heard a gasp. 

Jack was home, standing in shock to see his shemale dad nursing on the spent cock of his girlfriend's father. 

When Darla finally pulled off, Ted opened his eyes, "Damn... I needed that more than even I knew." 

Darla smiled past Ted, "Hi Jackie."

Ted turned in shock and stared at Jack a pregnant beat, before pushing Darla off him as he leapt to his feet. In a flustered panic, he pulled his pants up and headed for the side door. 

In shock himself, Jack nodded as he passed, "Pastor Davis?" 

Ted avoided eye contact as he scurried out, Darla calling after him, "Tell your wife, she's welcome." 

END OF PART TWO. 

Thanks for the feedback!



She Dad Ch. 03



Please read parts 1 and 2 to get caught up...

Jack couldn't believe his shemale dad had just sucked off his girlfriend's father, the town's Baptist preacher. "What the hell was that, Dad? HOLY SHIT!" 

Darla could see Jack was upset and quickly led him to the couch to settle him down, "You are to call me Darla when I'm dressed like this. Are we clear?" 

Jack rolled his eyes, "fine... 'Darla.' What were you doing with Pastor Davis' cock in your mouth?" Darla straightened her hair and reapplied her lipstick, "I was doing it for you. He heard about you grabbing Tiffany's tit and came over here to beat your ass." 

Jack suddenly cowed, "Oh." 

Darla put a hand on his thigh, "But I took care of it." 

Jack rolled his eyes again, "I saw. Oh man, this is gonna make going to Church awkward." 

Darla smiled, "Nonsense. Not only is he not going to make any trouble, if anything, Tiffany is going to be encouraged to relax her boundaries between you and her." 

Jack perked up noticeably, "Really?" 

Darla put her hand on Jack's package and began to gently stroke him through his jeans, "You bet." 

Jack put his hand on hers to stop it, "Jeez, can't you get enough?" 

Darla lowered her head to rest her chin on his pants over his hardening cock, "Not enough of this." 

Jack wiggled uncomfortably, "Yeah, but I've been thinking that maybe last night was a huge mistake..." 

Darla's mind reeled; this was a worst case scenario. Thinking quickly, she looked up, pouting her lips with a half sob, "After what I did for you? You think I wanted that preacher's self righteous cock in my face?" 

Jack swallowed hard and pulled his hand away, he felt selfish, and a little guilty. 

Darla moved her other hand up to pull down his zipper, she was getting good at freeing erections, "Jackie, I'm working on getting you a 'get into Tiffany's panties' free card. The least you can do is show some appreciation." 

As Darla worked his hardening meat out of the hole in his boxers, Jack gently stroked her hair, "Okay, I'm sorry. This just feels wrong sometimes...oooh..." 

Darla's lips had tightly sealed around the head of his cock, and she wasted no time warming it with the friction that her inferno mouth could generate. 

Jack sank back and let her work his meat, providing deep mouthed suction that practically pulled his balls up into her mouth as well. The pressure and heat that Darla created on Jack's prick made the troublesome fact that this was his shemale dad blowing him not seem so important. Darla smiled around his hot meat; never underestimate the power of the blowjob. In truth, Jack had thought about this moment all day at school, when Darla's snake-like tongue would massage his shaft again -- he just wanted to come in her mouth. He longed for the moment when she felt him spasm and she would slow her motion and concentrate on taking his cum. There's something special about a woman who will suck a cock and relish the moment the semen bursts in her mouth and eat it up without wasting a drop. Having a hot slut hungry for cum was a dream come true. Jack wondered if Tiffany would ever get there.

As much as Darla sensed that Jack wanted to follow the Pastor's path down her throat, she had her own desires. She had already had a big creamy snack today ad didn't want to waste this hard on, but Jack hadn't been drinking like two nights ago. And had made it clear he would be hesitant to fuck her. She needed to seduce him. Darla got up from her position on the floor and laid her shoulders over his torso and her body along the couch beside him. Jack's cock glistened thick with saliva as it flopped out of her mouth.

"What are you doing?" Jack asked, worried she wouldn't want to suck him anymore. 

"Just making myself comfortable," she said, putting a pillow under her belly. As Darla lay on the pillow, she felt it raise her ass up, accentuating her big round cheeks, which spilled out from under her short dress. As Darla worked Jack's cock back into her mouth, he got hornier and couldn't resist the urge to put one hand on her mid back and the other on her head to 'guide' her. She took a break to reward him by acknowledging this fact. "I like that you remembered to use your hands to show me what you like." 

Jack managed a grunt, he was in deep concentration. Desperately wanting to come, he pushed her head back down deeply on his cock -- he felt her throat tighten on him. At this point, Jack wasn't feeling guilty, hell, she said she liked it. Darla let him take over, pushing and pulling her head deeper onto his cock. Jack grunted animalistic ally a couple times, the base of his spine started to tingle.... he was going to shoot soon...

And that's when Darla stopped dead. She felt his orgasm approaching and firmly squeezed the base on his cock and pulled off, 'edging' him. She squeezed up his shaft and was rewarded with a pearlescent drop of pre-cum. She licked it off and spread it across her tongue savoring the taste.

"Mmmm...You're not in a rush are you, honey?"

Jack shook his head 'no', but his hand on her back crept down her lower back and rested on her ass. She wiggled her butt encouragingly and Jack took the bait, pushing her dress onto her hips and exposing that big juicy ass. He spread his palm and squeezed and his fingers sank into her sexy ass as he gripped it. 

The red silk panties clung to Darla's cheeks so tightly; she was practically ripping out of them. Seeing her rump's shape so round and full, Jack realized the panties were too small. And they were familiar. 

"I've seen these panties... They're Tiffany's?" Jack mumbled as he pushed his groin into her face. Darla pulled his spit covered cock out of her mouth a moment to respond.

"They were your mother's." Then she lapped at the head, spearing her tongue into the slit. "You're wearing Mom's panties?" Jack was stunned by the revelation, then he quickly remembered how hot he thought his mom was. Jessica was five feet seven with a curvy figure. As sexy as she was, Jack understood why she was frustrated that her husband didn't use that body as much as he should. Jack thought his mom's 38c breasts were perfect and she has a helluva nice ass, though it wasn't as big as Darla's. Mom also had great long legs -- what Dad had always said lured him in. Jessica's facial features were soft, framed by medium length brown hair. What he wouldn't to nuzzle his face in her hair and then move down to suckle her juicy round tits. This momentary daydream about mom had an immediate effect on Jack. 

Darla was sure she felt Jack's grip on her head and butt tighten slightly. His cock felt a little harder in her mouth. Could it be he was fantasizing about his mother? At this point, Darla was on cocksucking autopilot -- her chin and lips were covered in slobber as she let her son do much of the work, humping his cock in and out of her face with feverish intensity. 

Darla would occasionally get a taste of his precum leaking from his rock hard tool, and while it was tempting to coax a full load of her son's cum into her mouth, she wanted Jack's seed as deep as he could get it in the other end of her body. 

Darla wiggled her ass against his hand to communicate this desire. Sensing what Darla wanted, Jack slipped his fingers into her crack, wanting to please her. She spread her legs a bit to give him better access to her sweet asspussy. His middle finger found her smooth creamy hole and gently nudged it through the panties, eliciting a full mouthed muffled moan from her. 

Her cock was already hard and pressing into the couch cushions, but sometimes just a tickle on a horny slut's asshole was enough to make her cum... it wouldn't be long if he kept it up. And Darla wasn't ready to come yet. She was impressed that Jack was learning how to get what he wanted by pleasing his woman. The boy's education was coming along fine.

Jack's legs trembled as he approached the point of no return again when Darla froze her motion, squeezing the blood from his cock again, "Fuck! What's wrong? Why are you stopping?" Darla's eyes widened, maybe she'd been too selfish. Jack was pissed and he roughly grabbed her hair. Darla squeezed her legs and ass cheeks together around his finger, trying to will it inside her. "Jackie, I need more your than your finger." Darla moaned longingly, "My pussy is sooo hungry for your cock. I want you to fuck me, baby." 

Then Jack did something that caught Darla completely off guard. First he pulled her panties down and pushed his middle finger right to her asshole, gently rubbing it as he worked the tip inside. "I will fuck your delicious ass as much as you want... under two conditions." 

As shocked as Darla was, she moaned as her hole opened for his finger, coaxing it inside. Darla would willingly take any part of Jack's body into her ass, but she had to know what he could possibly want.

"What two conditions?"

"First, you let me cum in your mouth now. And second..."

Jack hesitated, the shy boy came back. He didn't want to say.

"Come on, what's the other condition. Jackie, a woman appreciates honesty. If you tell her what you want, there's a chance you'll get it."

Jack looked away, sheepish, "I want to call you Mom."

Darla was stunned by the request, but knew right away this was an offer that she simply could not refuse. She smiled, "I would love you to call me Mom, baby." 

Darla maneuvered Jack's cock back in her mouth and pushed it all the way in, deep-throating it a few moments, before pulling it out, "Now give me your cum..." 

Darla went back to her sucking, working the head and the first three inches in and out of her mouth as she gripped the base, she was now focused on having him blow in her face. When Jack shot off, Darla wanted his cock resting on the center of the tongue where she could savor every jerk and spurt. Jack's hand went to the back of her head; he loved to guide her head on his cock, made him feel like he was in charge.

At last, Darla felt it, the tip of his cock swelled and he moaned something unintelligible through clenched teeth that sounded like, "Suck it Mom!" Close enough for Darla who sealed the head in her mouth and jacked the shaft as it jerked in response. 

Jack hips started to buck. He grabbed her head, looking down at her, "Gonna come! I wanna see it! My cum in your mouth!" 

At that moment it occurred to Darla that Jack might not have cum in two days, and the fact that she had 'edged' him which always made orgasms more intense would mean one thing, a torrent of cum. 

"Ahhh!" Darla opened her mouth and Jack literally sprayed it front to back with his first jet, her mouth was painted with a pearly stripe from front teeth to tonsils! The second jet was just as big, and Darla had to grip his cock tightly to keep his cock's head on her tongue. Where Ted's cum was thin and liquidy, Jack's was thick and gooey -- similarly salty, he had a stronger flavor... and her mouth was filling with it! 

The next few jets went clear into the back of her mouth, but Darla didn't swallow -- she let her mouth collect her boy's tasty warm seed, savoring the flavor. She closed her lips and nursed the head as the jets weakened into a dribble... and a finally oozed the last few drops. 

Darla pulled her mouth off and made sure Jack saw she had taken it all, then she swallowed. One gulp wasn't enough! It took Darla two gulps and she sighed as she felt the salty warmth flow down into her belly. After she swallowed, she held her tongue to the top of her mouth to relish the aftertaste. Darla then put the head of Jack's cock to her lips. He remembered what he was supposed to do, gently pushing her head back onto his meat, "That's a good boy," she moaned to herself her lips spread by his warm salty meat. 

Darla reached down to grab her cock, but found is soft -- how could this be? Oh wait, her panties were soaked above her cock. She had been so turned on and focused on blowing her son; she didn't realize she came in her panties. 

Darla immediately hopped to her feet, ordering Jack, "I'm going to go get ready to be your mother. Go take a shower and..." she rubbed her fingers over his chin, "Shave. Tonight you learn how to eat pussy." 

She rushed up the stairs, leaving Jack in an afterglow daze....

"Eat pussy?"

To Be Continued in Part 4. 



She Dad



Darla noticed her knees were being chaffed by the rug and she loved it, this is what a whore gets! Crouched like she was, her bunched up dress hid her erection that longed to be free, she was so turned on by blowing him. She moved her hands to her son's thighs to steady herself as he fucked her face. 

"Finally," she silently moaned, as his cock moved in and out of her mouth, sometimes deeper, sometimes shallower as Jack figured out "how to fuck a woman in the mouth." She was teased a couple times with the brief taste of a salty fluid and knew it was his pre-cum... she wanted to savor and taste it, but it moved through her mouth so quickly with his cock she didn't have a chance. She hoped there would be time for that later. Regardless, this is exactly what she had longed for and she was anticipating the main course to come.

Jack was in another world. In his fantasies, the mouth on his cock had belonged to five women in the last couple minutes, Tiffany, her sister, her mom, a hot teacher, and finally back to Darla... who he decided was hottest of all. His orgasm was building. His cock was staying deeper in Darla's mouth and his thrusts were getting shorter, faster. He had both hands on her head and was now pulling her hair. 

Darla tried to moan with every third or fourth stroke to let him know how much she was also loving it. In her crouched position, his movements were just enough to grind her own cock pinned in the panties and her own orgasm was building. 

She moved her hands from his thighs around to feel his butt and she almost gasped in surprise -- she always knew Jack had gotten 'the family butt', she could see it in his jeans -- however, this was the first time she felt it. It was the same big round peach ass Darla had. God, she squeezed and gripped it as it pushed the cock into her mouth! It turned Darla on so much, her throat completely relaxed. She hugged Jack's ass and pulled him in and he pushed his cock all the way into her mouth. 

Darla swallowed his last three inches and her nose was ground into his pubes. She had deepthroated him! In her many gagging attempts with her wife's large dildo, Daryl had never gotten past 5 inches. Darla was a much better cocksucker! Jack's 8 inch prick was all the way inside her mouth and he instinctively knew this was special, "Oh my god!"

Jack began to come. It wasn't merely an orgasm, this was one of the top ten blow jobs one gets in a life. Jack felt as if he was plugged into the light socket at the dick. His whole body trembled as he exploded in a super blue balls ejaculation that comes with one's first great blow job. Unforgettable. 

Darla felt the first throb and the first large spurt was down her throat before she could pull back. See, Darla had dreamed about blow jobs too, and it involved swallowing the cum of the first man she sucked... but she wanted to taste every drop of the inaugeral spooge! 

Darla backed off, getting the head of her son's cock back out of her throat so she could feel the second and third ropes of cum spray the top of her mouth, "Mmm-mmmm!" She was tasting it! It was actually sweet! Tasting was difficult because the lust crazed teenager had ahold of her head and thrashed around as he tried to fuck her face. She grabbed his shaft with her hand and pulled back a little more until she had only the head and a little cock in her mouth as fourth... fifth... sixth.... shots of cum shot out of her son's delicious cock and onto her waiting tongue. 

As Jack's orgasm subsided, his cock softened, but only slightly. Darla didn't care. She kneel before this strong young man with her lips glued to his cock with no plans to go anywhere. Jack shook his head, "That was amazing." 

Darla rolled her tongue around in her mouth, pushing the cum all over his cock -- there was so much of it, she didn't have much room. She wanted to swish it to taste every drop, but it was also too deliciously thick. Jack looked down in wonder, seeing this hot chick on her knees with her cheeks bulging full of cum, "You don't have to swallow..."

Darla slowly pulled her mouth off his penis and opened it to show Jack the mouthful of thick white cream he'd given her, then closed. It was with mixed feeling that she swallowed, managing to get it all down in two gulps, before smiling, "Yes I do have to swallow. Every. Single. Time." Darla immediately brought her tongue back to his cock to catch a dribble of post cum and clean up the cum left on his head. She ended up staying there, nursing the head. 

As Jack stood there, he noticed his legs were exhausted, and also that his cock was not softening. It remained erect as Darla gently nursed on it, coaxing out droplets of cum and celebrating each one with a satisfied hum. Jack moved back to sit on the couch and Darla followed on her knees. Jack spread his legs as he sat down, and Darla took her place, kneeling between them as she continued to gently suck his cock. Truth is, Darla was worried if she let go of it, she'd never get it again. 

Jack finally put his hand on her head, "You can stop now." Darla pulled back slow, released his cock from his mouth, but never let go of it, keeping her hand gripped on it. She pouted, "I'm not done." 

Jack looked nervous, took a big drink to finish the rest of his margarita, "What do you want to do?" Darla smiled and got to her feet. She never took her hand off Jack's cock as she got to her feet and in doing so pulled him up. 

Darla did her about face and pulled his erect cock right between her ass cheeks, the head right to her asshole, "What comes naturally." Leading her son by his cock, Darla marched them up the stairs.

In the bedroom, Jack found more candles lit and the bed had been prepared -- pillows, lube, etc... Before he could put two and two together, Darla was pulling his shirt off. Jack was naked. "What about you?" he asked. 

Darla undid her blouse to reveal her arms, back and belly, a little more of her hefty breasts trapped in a large bra. She actually looked sexy in the bra. That was as far as she was willing to go, the bra and skirt would be staying on to preserve the whole Darla image. For now. 

Darla crawled onto the bed on all fours. Bending over, she arched her back, pushing her fat ass up in the air as she dropped her chest to the bed and turned to him. He watched as she reached back and pulled the skirt up over her hips to reveal her full round ass, snugly filling the striped silk panties. Jack reacted in surprise, those were the same panties his girlfriend Tiffany wore. 

"Get up here. It's time for you to become a man."

He swallowed hard and climbed on the bed to kneel behind her, he could see her crack through the sheer panties and his mouth watered. His cock throbbed so hard it almost hurt, so he let it rest in the crack of her panty covered ass to try and get control of himself. Jack tried to tell himself he was still so hard because he was half drunk, but the truth was -- her ass was hot. Darla looked over her shoulder, eyes smokey with lust.

"A man has to know how to take off his woman's panties..."

He hooked his thumb's around the sides of her panties and inched them down, her juicy full ass spilling out of them. He couldn't believe how delicious her ass looked -- soft, round, full and hairless as one of those brazilian whores on the internet. And he was about to fill it with cum. Leaving her panties at her thighs, he let his cock fall back into her crack. She pushed back, trapping his meat in her ass cleavage and his cock throbbed, involuntarily drooling precum -- which ran down the shaft, pooling on her asshole. 

She cooed at the sensation of the warm gooeyness on her skin. The very idea that at long last she would have a real cock stuffing her ass, not the ex-wife's vibrators, made her 'clit' stiffen, still trapped in her bunched up panties. The fact that it would be her son's virgin cock made her asshole itch with anticipation.

Jack grabbed the tube of lube on the bed and rubbed some on his cock -- he was still so wet from her sloppy blow job he didn't need much. He started to put some on her ass, but already having lubed herself up in preparation earlier, Darla stopped him, appreciative but impatient, "I'm ready, honey. Make me a woman." 

He backed off a few inches and put his cock to her asshole. Precum oozed from his tip as he pushed forward. Darla appreciated he was being gentle, but she urgently needed him inside her. He pushed and she flexed her hip muscles as her hole involuntarily tightened around his cockhead. She bit her lip and relaxed, he was bigger than she thought. Darla relaxed and Jack's steady pressure won, his head popping in and the first two inches of cock pushing into her ass and taking her virginity.

"Ooh!" squeaked out of her. 

Jack looked down, watching as her ass swallowed up half his meat, "uuuuuhhhhh...god..." Jack stopped pushing, his cock halfway into her and one happy long awaited thought filled his head, "I'm not a virgin anymore." Darla reached down between her legs, her cock was so hard it throbbed, trapped in her panties. She gripped it through the panties, the soft material encasing her hot pulsing meat. She breathed hard, turning to look at him, "Go ahead, I want the rest of it, baby." 

Jack shook his head no, he wanted Darla to prove she wanted it, "Come and get it." Darla smiled and pushed her hips back, sucking the rest of his cock into her fleshy supple rump. Darla's insides tingled as her son's cock opened her up. His cock bottomed out in her, his pubes against her cheeks -- she had never felt so full... so satisfied. Words almost failed Darla, "Oh..." 

The warm twitching tightness squeezing Jack's cock was like nothing he ever felt before, "Oh hell yes. Take that cock, bitch." Urged on by his dirty talk, she pulled forward, his cock sliding almost out before pushing back until he filled her up again, bouncing against his meat. Every draw on his cock make him vibrate from the bottom of his feet up to the base of his neck. This bitch was sucking his cock with her ass and he never wanted it to end. Feeling orgasm building, he grabbed her hips and stopped them when she was against him, "Hang on..." 

Darla knew she was in for it and left her own cock alone to brace herself with both hands on the bed. She dropped her chest and spread her legs slightly, she was finally going to ask for what she had dreamt of, "Please fuck me, baby. Fuck me good." 

Her son sank his fingers into her fat ass hips and started pumping her. He was slow at first, but he couldn't help himself and his speed and intensity built. He hunched over her, his chest to her back, reaching around and under to grip her fleshy tits. Jack didn't care they were fake, right now, they were real and he was assfucking Darla for all she was worth, "Yeah, take it!" 

Darla followed Jack's rhythm, pushing back hard enough to make him feel like he was being fucked, but at the same time, savoring his cockhead bumping over her prostate -- pleasuring it with every hammering stroke. She groaned, her own orgasm was building. With every slap of their flesh, her hard 'clit' bounced against her belly, still half trapped in the panties

Jack pistoned in and out of his 'girlfriend', watching with amazement as several inches of his cock disappeared and reappeared from beween her almost perfectly round asscheeks. He was impressed with himself, he was reaming this bitch good! Moans were literally pushed out of Darla as Jack clutched her hips, his fingers sinking in to her fleshy ass as he began hammering her as hard as he could. 

She lay with her face on the pillow, ass up, absorbing her son's relentless cock. Jack had his way with her, pistoning her sweet round bottom with every bit of his energy. Relishing the moment, Jack took a moment to look down and watch as his belly and thighs slapped into her big round ass, rippling it like jello with every impact as if in slow motion. 

Sweat broke on his brow and Jack noticed he was drooling -- his orgasm was building to the point of no return. Determined to make it last longer, he slowed down and straightened up off her back... and suddenly spanked her ass. Hard. 

Darla squealed in surprise -- and her ass involuntarily clenched just as Jack's cock rubbed her prostate -- the orgasm she had been holding off abruptly exploded with force she had never felt before... Never having experienced a woman's orgasm, Jack immediately noticed something was happening -- but was unsure what. Darla's legs shook, she moaned and her body siezed and trembled beneath him. 

Darla had reached down between her legs to grab and milk her cock as cum raced up her shaft. "I'm cumming!" Darla looked down at her twitching cock beneath her, and it shot with such power she took the first two spurts to her face. "Oh my god....", she gasped as she pumped spooge into her hand, emptying her balls all over the bed. 

A deep satisfaction filled Jack, as he thought, "Fuck you, Tiffany!" He had the pride of a man who made his bitch cum. Jack held his meat as far into Darla's ass as he could get it; savoring the feeling of her already tight asshole clenching with spasming vise-like power around his hard as diamond cock. 

Her spasms weakening, Darla turned her head to look over her shoulder, bangs stuck to her sweaty face, her eyes smokey with eye shadow and mascara, "Oh, Jackie... Your cock is sooo good." Jack noticed her cum splashed across her face. She collected the warm semen onto her fingers, scooping what she found on her chin hungrily into her mouth, "More." 

That was all Jack could take and he began cumming into another body for the first time in his life. Lightning struck his spine and he grunted like an animal as his rock hard cock jerked in her asspussy, "Oh yeah, baby, gimme all that cum..." He grabbed her around the waist and humped against her violently. She concentrated, focusing her anal muscles to milk every drop of that sweet cum out of his balls and into her hungry butt. Darla felt his twitching cock and his cum, which felt hot erupt within her.

When his orgasm faded, he realized how drained he was and collapsed onto her, sweaty and breathing hard. They laid coupled like that, her relishing the full feeling of warm cock and cum filling her ass. Darla was actually kind of angry -- frustrated she had waited so long to have her ass fucked. She couldn't believe how good a real cock felt and knew she'd never go without now. 

As Jack's afterglow began to subside, he noticed his cock was still hard. How could this be? He'd already come twice! He started to pull out, but Darla stopped him, "Please honey... I waited so long and you're still so..." 

"Hard, I know..." Jack said as he relaxed and let his body weight fall back onto her. Darla smiled to herself, that's because she viagra'd the hell out of his drink, but she wouldn't be sharing that info, "You're such a stud." 

Darla concentrated and very gently began to flex her asshole, gently tighening and loosening to nibble at his cock. She had practiced with vibrators after coming... being careful to not push his cock out, but to keep it right where it was and gently 'suck' it with her asshole. 

Jack groaned and pushed into her and she smiled again, knowing there would be a round two. He reached around to grab her breasts, but she pushed up against him, "You did all the work the first time, my turn." Darla pushed back until Jack was laying on his back, with her on top of him. She sat up and repositioned her legs beneath her so she could lift herself up and look down to see his cock disappear into her ass. When Darla was high enough that only the head of her son's cock was in her her, she settled back down with a groan, "Oh, Darla's gonna ride this beautiful cock!" 

Darla rose up and lowered herself with long leisuredly strokes, wanting to feel every veined inch of her son's penis go in and out of her by her own control. After a few strokes, her own cock hardened again and stabbed straight out, bobbing up and down with her riding motion. Facing away from Jack, Darla wasn't worried... he couldn't see it. All he saw was this hot curvy brunette bouncing on his cock from the back, her hair bouncing, her full luscious ass cheeks flattening on his thighs and belly.

Jack started breathing hard and started to push up into her, trying to build to orgasm. She stopped at the bottom to savor every bit of him deeply inside her. She reached down to press her small balls against her son's big balls -- she always wondered what it would feel like to be stuffed with a hot cock and feel some stud's balls against hers. The answer was 'amazing.' She cupped all four of their balls together and clenched her asshole as hard as she could. Jack groaned, "You're gonna make me cum." 

"You want to cum, baby?" groaned Darla and she went to work like a woman possessed, riding him with short hard grinding strokes, grunting with every one. "Yeah, yeah yeah!" Jack said 's hands left his sides and he grabbed her hips, raising and lowering her, fucking her onto his meat, dammit, he was gonna give her every inch she wanted. "Oh, baby... Here it comes!" 

Darla didn't let up a bit, hunching her hips to squeeze her son's cock as hard as she could, "Gimme that cum!" 

This time, Jack began to come first. He grabbed Darla around the chest with one hand and by hair with the other and pulled her back onto his chest, hugging her tight to his body. His face buried in her hair, she heard him mutter, "You take it all... Tiffany..." Darla registered the name, but quickly ignored it and fell back, grabbing her own cock, which was as hard as it had ever been and stroked furiously. As her son's cock geysered in her ass, Darla's own prick unleashed several squirting ropes of cum up and over her belly and chest. Her asshole twitched, clutching and milking her son's cock in time to her orgasm, which was so intense, she almost blacked out. Jack sighed and grunted as his orgasm faded into exhaustion. 

"Oh my God..." Jack managed as he nudged Darla off him into a spooning position and rolled onto his side, his leg cramping. His cock's work done, it softened enough to slip out of Darla's ass with a wet plop. Darla moaned in disappointment, she wanted his meat in her forever. As she caught her breath, Darla quickly decided she would have it back in her, any way she could get it. 

The mood had changed though. Jack wouldn't look Darla in the eye and seemed to pull away from her and she realized this was a critical moment. The crazed lust that makes teenagers do almost anything to get off was gone and the reality was sinking in. What they had done was incest. And pretty gay. Darla knew she had to maintain their roles or she might lose him. 

"Honey... put your hand on my head." 

Jack stirred, "Huh?" 

"And push me down onto your cock.", she purred. 

Darla knew no teenager will turn down a mouth on his cock and Jack did as Darla asked, lacing his fingers into 'her' hair and pushing her to his cock. Darla extended a tongue and gently licked his head, "Mmmm... A real woman knows how to take care of her man. That means cleaning him up after he's fed her pussy his cum." Darla took just the tip of his cock into her mouth , then waited for Jack to push her head down, so more of his penis filled her mouth. 

Jack fell back into the role pushing her head onto his cock, "Okay... baby..." Darla smiled around his cock...She had him. 

Darla took her time, lovingingly suckling, then lapping all the cum and lube off his prick and when Jack's freshly de-virgined staff was spotless, she eased his fat meat out of her mouth, kissing his head one last time --silently promising it she would be back to worship it again. Jack patted her head, then silently got up and left the room to take a shower. 

Darla lay in bed, face down -- satisfied. As she pondered how she was gonna get her son's cock into her ass again, she noticed some of the cum her cock had shot on the bed. She quickly scooped it up with her fingers, pushed it into her mouth. Her own cum was thick and tasty, but her son's was creamy and... addicting. Then she remember where there was some more of his. She reached back between her fat luscious ass cheeks, dabbing at her sensitive hole. He had opened her up good, just what you expect from a viriginal fucking. Darla's ass was loose, wet and... jackpot -- oozing with two loads of cum.




She Dad



Darla smiled and covered her hole with two fingers, then pushed... Her fingers caught a large wad of goo that her son had deposited deep inside her. Darla carefully scooped it along her hole, up her crack and brought it to her face to see -- her fingers were caked white, dripping with warm fresh ass cum. "Mm-mmm good." 

Darla wiped the cum off onto her tongue, then sucked her creamy fingers clean. It was delicious. Damn it, she could not get enough. She lay her head down on the bed sideways as she continued scooping her ass cum into her mouth, savoring every last drop. 

To her amazement, eating her son's cum made Darla's own cock begin to harden beneath her yet again and she began to plan her next adventure of seduction...



She Danced



People say that the shy and scared hide in shadows and secluded corners, that agoraphobians dwell in their own cocoons, safely locked away from our everyday humdrum. They might be right. Most of the time. But the shy and the scared are lured forward sometimes, to the clattering beat of a new twelve incher, to the clattering beat of high heels, and to the clattering, shattering strobe of the slitter on a punch drunk crowd's glitter, sputter, sweat, spit, smiles, strips, body shots and acid trips. Whenever the sun sets and the zoo is on. At midnight in anything from the fancy uptown establishments to the seedy underground improv clubs, it was the same old story, night after night. The pulsating jungle of basements, back beats and bass drums thumping new truths into the scattered souls of the everyday gloom. 

This is where they go to forget, to be all that they wish they were. This is where they let alcohol and pheromones mix and overdose on each other, where new chapters in comedies and tragedies are initiated. Night after night, drink after drink. Beat after beat after beat... It's here, in the night, that the hidden comes forth. But still remains just as hidden. 

She danced. There was no other word for it. No poetic orgasmatron of syllables and sex that could intensify that sight. A black hair like a waterfall swayed back and forth across her bare back and the opaque blue halter top scattered with deep blue spangles clung on for dear life against the rhythm of her twisting torso, threatening to slip loose at any second. The short, pleated silver skirt slapped her upper thighs like a curtain in erratic draft. Her feet moved to their own melody, and her lips, her blood red lipstick, mimicked a monologue that nobody could hear.

She danced, in every sense of the word, a combination of ancient traditions and futuristic ideals, clashed into one body in motion, always finding a new form for her balance between madness and structure. She danced alone, in a sea of other writhing forms, none that could touch her, none that could ever compare with the girl in the silver skirt. She was not there, not in their world of debauchery and skin parade, although she looked the part, wore that mask to blend in and stand out all at once.

This was her moment, her chance to escape, to enter the cocoon and live her own agoraphobic utopia for a few, vibrant minutes. This was where Aki hid from things. Things that did not match her pace, things that tilted her universe the wrong way on a daily basis. Things that made her feel that creeping sense of not belonging. This was her home, her hideout. Where everyone could see her.

Aki danced, and the world, the command of her destiny, somehow still belonged to her.

----

Like a fish on a spear. There was no difference. He thrashed around, sputtered and shook, while some thick black liquid that didn't look at all like what she had expected human blood would look like seeped from the multiple entry craters and from the corner of his astonished mouth. He shook so heavily that the black liquid slobbered all over her like the drool of one of those bloodhounds that always looks so depressed.

Then she saw that it indeed was as red as blood ought to be. Finally, just like the fish, the long silvery fishes she and he used to catch down by the quay at eight in the morning on weekends, the trembles stopped, and the bulging eyes went blank. Then his head, until then carried rigid by panicked sinews, slumped down to one side, and a flood of accumulated blood and froth came out, running down his chest and left arm. It dripped off his fingers and down on the seat.

Everything was silent. Just seconds ago, her world had been filled with the frenzied shattering of hardened glass, the bending of steel frames and the shrieking of tires against the dry asphalt. And then the surreal, wet series of thumps, articulated through a momentary pause between the impact of the windshield and the front of the car smashing into the refuge and coming to a stop against the mid highway concrete barrier. The wet thumps of the seven long reinforcement bars that had rocketed from the truck in front of them, cut through the windshield like butter, and through the driver even easier, before embedding themselves in and through the driver's seat.

The long, ribbed iron bars went through the man with surgical precision, one trashing his left shoulder, another entering just above the left collar bone. One punctured his lung and two took the route through his intestines. One last iron bar pinned the jacket of his right forearm to the seat behind him, and two other bars barely missed his head and throat.

Not that he needed them. Impaled on five spears, he died rather quickly anyway. But it gave him just enough time of spectacular spasms for Aki to start thinking of the fishes the man and she had caught with sharp sticks in the shallow water of the portside lagoon down south, at her grandparents' villa. Her father had promised to tell her why they could flop around like that, even after they had had their heads cut off, been opened and gutted. But it slipped his mind and then slipped hers too. Now he would never be able to explain, unless you could count his own sickening struggle against the inevitable, a very hands-on lesson.

Because the man in the driver's seat was that man. Aki callously, almost absently, watched her father die an almost aesthetically intriguing death, and held a curious finger to his limp, red dripping hand for a tentative prod.

It took nine seconds for the first iron bars to start slipping from the top of the truck, until that incredible silence up on the refuge. It took Aki five minutes to start screaming. And then another ten after the ambulance arrived for the medics to pin her down, so they could give her a sedative injection.

----

It had been a long journey in space, but not nearly a long enough journey in time for her. The pulse, the noise and the mess-up from last year was still echoing in her ears. She could feel the sting in the palm of her hands as if it was only hours ago that her tiny world of make believe safety came crashing in with the windshield of her father's car. It was as if no six months had passed from that flurry of confusion and fear, as if the man she had loved like a god all her life just recently were eradicated in an explosion of steel, glass, blood and crushed bones. It's funny, she thought in a moment of clarity, the only thing I can really recall in real time is how that fucking truck blocked my view of the Nikon building. That truck with its concrete armoring bars, and that hatch opening in the back. Slowly, ever so slowly.

But those moments of objectivity were only occasional mishaps. The constant state was the avalanche. The rush of cold that she tried desperately to dance away. The escape, the decision to put as much physical distance between her and that shattering memory as possible, had never really cut the cord to the terror that disturbed her sleep at night.

But still, she carried her scar, both the external and the one that she didn't talk about. Clenched her jaws and carried on. A good girl does what is proper. A good girl does not wallow in self pity. Such a machoism is not exclusive to men these days. Come think of it, it never was.

Legs finally too tired to carry her swaying on the dancefloor, Aki stepped out of her cocoon and into the jumping crowd. The sharp hi-hat stabs and pulsating bass that she almost didn't hear before came rushing back and it almost hit her in the face with the sheer force. Unknowingly she had moved across the scene further and further towards the large speakers, and was practically resting her head on them by now.

Startled, she staggered away from the roaring box, knocking about other dancers as she made her way through the crowd and away from the most immediate chaos. No, the cocoon didn't do her much good tonight. The flashback images like cigarette burns on the inside of her skull kept yelling at her to relive it all over and over again. She needed something more, something stronger. Whatever could make it go away for a while. Booze, heroin, adrenaline, orgasms, origami, razors, electricity, yoga ... she wished she knew how to meditate, to store herself away in a corner and become a nothingness for a few hours. An observing spirit in a hollow body, while the real Aki slept. Like Grandma used to do. Back there, in a city Aki now desperately wished to forget. Kobe was no more in the heart of the girl in the silver skirt.

Stumbling on, slalom skiing style to avoid the drunks and the punks and the Don Juans lunging themselves after anything with feminine features and a slightest degree of exposed skin, Aki made her way to the bar and was greeted by an indifferent but professional smile from the rugged bartender.

"What'll it be, pretty?" he asked over the holler in a outback ranger Australian accent. For some reason, the fanciest places in Stockholm all had foreign bartenders. Probably to give the place a flair of internationalism in some bizarre way. Or maybe no locals could make a decent Black Russian.

She replied with a jaded smile of her own, handed over her Visa card and ordered a simple vodka tonic in her own slowly improving but still at best manageable English. On a second note, she let him keep the card and feed her fresh poison whenever she ran out, before she slumped down in a chair. Which for a girl of her limited stature meant an elaborate climb up a too high barstool. But she was getting used to that by now. This country was built for tall people, and her own distance from the floor was that of a Swedish kid who had one or two more years left to grow.

Downing the first drink in a few swift gulps, she spun around on her stool to inspect the perimeter. She knew the attention she was attracting. Not as much for being the scaintly clad, attractive young woman, but for being the kind who went to an underground club without male company, or even with a bunch of girlfriends. For being the kind of girl who tilts her head back to feel the sweat beads travel down her neck while sweeping from face to face with her sultry but ice cold gaze. It was a role, of course. A mask for the occasion. But she had grown so accustomed to it by now that she didn't even consider the moves.

The faces she met, men who she knew were measuring her up, probably even slamming her against that bar, or against the mattresses of their beds in the porno flicks of their imagination, reacted the same way to her subtle but obvious visual confrontation. Most of them looked away, feigning indifference, although she knew they had been staring at her ass and back, and then at the curve of her breasts and trying to peek in between her thighs as she turned around to face them. Some didn't even manage to do that, but just cast their heads down and blushed. And then there were the real losers, the last state of intoxication. Tongues lolling, eyes glazed, stupid horny grins on their faces, and not a sensible enough bone in their body to stop oogling.

Aki knew what she was looking for. With a little luck there was one or two in a crowd like this. A pair of eyes that didn't flutter off when she homed in on them, combined with a mouth that didn't actually drool. Someone who knew, or deserved to find out, what she really was about. She didn't ask for much, just a little bit more than all the other crash test dummies, cardboard figure extras in the grand theatre of life. Someone with a little gleam in his eye and a healthy "why the hell not"-attitude, someone who gave fuck all about conventions. She wasn't there for the alpha males. They were usually easily discouraged with her patented glare, when they realised she wouldn't swoon for them and was beyond easy conquest. No, it wasn't 'a real man' in the cliché sense of the expression that she was after. She'd settle if the man was a real person.

But there was nothing to be found as she made made her round of unspoken challenges, one after the other. Every stare was broken by an uncomfortable evasion. A vast emptiness of characterless masks was all that met her. Not a steady eye, not an amused glare, nothing. Just the same old wax museum of meek, bleak expressions and pasted smiles as fake as their owners' alcohol-cocky attitudes.

Disgruntled and increasingly frustrated, she spun back to the bar. A fresh vodka tonic greeted her. And by the side of the glass, another smaller one. It contained a strangely oily but clear liquid. At first she thought the whole serving had to be someone else's, or at least that shot glass. But she was the only patron at the bar whose hands weren't occupied with a beverage already. And the shoot glass stood on the same napkin. A questioning glance over at the bartender was rewarded with a smug smile and a nod. She curiously dipped her finger in the clear liquid of the shot glass and let a drop fall on her extended tongue. 

A peculiar taste of liqourice and other more earthy spices that she couldn't quite put names on spread like bushfire on her tastebuds. She closed her mouth and let the flavour swirl and bloom until it finally died out again. Lifting the glass and taking a careful sip produced the same result. Only more intense. With a final deep sigh and a swift move, she emptied the contents in one gulp, and a taste explosion of liquid fire, pepper and panic rushed down her throat and shot her dulled consciousness back into full awareness. She closed her eyes, threw her head back and let her mind focus on the instant rush of stimuli that the hard liquor provided, gripping the edge of the bar with both hands to keep her balance.

When she came back from that instant high and opened her eyes, they immediately met those of the Aussie bartender.

"Enjoying yourself, love?" he asked.

"What was that thing?"

"Ouzo. I reckon you never tried it before?"

She shook her head. "Never. That's Greek, isn't it? It was... interesting."

"You can say that again," he laughed. "Nothing wakes you up like a lemon spiced shot of Mykenes' finest. Want another? On me. It's my private stash."

"Are you trying to kill me?"

"You want me to?" he said with a tilted smile.

She had no reply to that, just a long glare. But a glare that was returned. Friendly and calmly. There was an amused gleam in the corner of his eyes as he leaned forward over the bar counter and rested on his elbows. Aki took a deep breath, a mouthful of the chilly drink and settled her own patented visual probes at his gaze. And then she know it immediately. His eyes didn't flicker. In the last possible place she thought of looking. At last, more than a puppet. Maybe a way out of this downward spiral. An escape, a new cocoon. At least for the moment.

The bartender's eyes calmly returned the gaze as if every consensus of the western culture's decorum of non confrontation had been put out of play. She stared. He stared. And that felt like the most natural thing in the world. Like magnetic poles attracting. She couldn't have looked away even if she had set her mind to it. Measuring, musing, make believe in the back of her mind played up all possible and impossible scenarios that the immediate future held in store. Nobody moved. They just rested there while the beats and commotion faded away into a barely noticeable background hum. A nexus over a bar counter and a glass of liquor separating them. A barrier. But not an impossible one to breach.

"I don't want this drink," she finally stated and extended an index finger, sliding the glass across to the opposite edge of the counter.

The bartender didn't even blink, didn't waver, didn't ever lost the connection, iris to iris. He swept up the glass, put it aside and put up two more shot glasses, into which he poured more of the Greek throat burner. In unison, with a static charge like an impending thunderstorm hanging between them, they gripped a glass each and swallowed the poison. The effect hit Aki like a sledgehammer in the back of her head. She felt the world tilt slightly, and she couldn't help but close her eyes for a few seconds again.

This time, when the curtain of her lids parted, the bartender had disappeared. So had the shot glasses. Instead on the counter lay her VISA card and a tab receipt for two vodka tonics. Blinking in surprise, she picked up the paper. The was some scribbling on the flipside of it, four words in a fast, fluent handwriting written with a red ball point pen. "Back entrance, 15 mins" was the message. Aki had to laugh at the boldness of the man. But then again, his approach wasn't much different than her own in matters like this.

----

Afterwards she couldn't recall collecting her belongings, slinging the purse over her shoulder, climbing down from the bar and climbing the stairs up to ground level. She couldn't even remember, or ever again trace her steps back to the back alley where she had found the bartender standing leaning against the fire exit door. But there he was, and this she would remember for the rest of her life. Not as a timeline of events, memories don't quite work that way, but as images, sensations, snippets of drunken, delirious conversation, tastes.

This man, this person, this escape from the word of unreal make-believe charades. His hard, chisled face, his slender features and his soft but strong, curious eyes. The smooth, deep voice and the drawly accent. The yellow bleached stubbled hair in contrast to his adventurer's deep tan, the tribal tattoo on his neck and left shoulder. The bottle of oily booze in his hand. How she walked up, a first hint of nervous butterflies in her stomach, promptly slipped her arms around his neck, leaned her body against his and let her tongue circle the perimeter of his lips, and then sunk into his face, surrendering her being to that moment, in a long, deep and wet plunge, still tasting of liquor and liqourice.

It was like skydiving. You are only scared before the plunge, and then you fall, and all other rules of conduct and fear are annihilated. No more anxiety or hesitation now. She lunged at the man with all her physical might and will power, gripping, clinging, ripping, licking and sucking and gasping for air. His hands sought out her back and her ass, the cold bottle drawing spiked tingles from her as he let it slide down her spine. His other hand was planted firmly on her buttocks, moving over the soft folds over the skirt before taking a firm grip and pulling her closer to him. She could feel the bulge in the man's jeans grinding against her groin, a promise of relief, redemption, of everything she needed so desperately at that very moment.

He took her right there in the alley. Or did she take him? Does it matter? Was there a difference, when intentions and basics were so firmly out in the open? The lines between taking, giving and receiving were blurred, or not even there to begin with, as the rough-cut man filled the silver skirted woman with all he had to give, pinned her up against the wall and let the animal inside take over the steering. And the woman filled his mouth with her tongue, his ears with hissing whispers in a language from far far away, and the alley with the ungodliest symphony of pure fucking abandon.

Her skirt was hiked up to the waist, his jeans down at the ankles, and the cold, raw concrete of the alley wall grinding at her naked back. The top was untied in the back and hung dangling to the side from her neck, and her breasts were pushed straight up at the bartender's equally bare chest, pressing Aki's slender body between his torso and the building behind.

Trapped between a firm, forceful heat and a firm, cold, unbending foundation, she clung on to the man, dug her face in between his shoulder and neck and wrapped her smooth thighs around his waist like a flesh and bone deadlock, a seal of ultimate approval for him to plunge, penetrate, possess, use and abuse until exhaustion eventually would turn them into writhing, shivering piles of lust, and their bodies wouldn't even remotely obey their wills anymore.




She Danced



More memories from that night hung for years like ghosts in the mist of her consciousness. Spent from that first, fast and ugly rutting they staggered, still half dressed, not even caring to cover up, further into the dark alley. A short, stumbling climb up a spiral staircase, and a short fumbling moment with jingling keys in a chain only fuelled Aki's desire, her need for seduction and distraction. To get pinned down, filled up and pushed to the brink of delirium once again. That was her game, her drug against it all. A solution to every problem. Catharsis for a comatose self esteem.

And the bartender with the bleached hair proved to be an adequate catalyst for her fire. Their gleaming, silently screaming naked forms painted new figures on his sweat stained mattress. The run down, wallpaper stripped and plaster leaking walls echoed their grunts and moans, more animal than human, with a muffled accuracy. His cock invaded and retreated, sunk slowly into her, or slammed to spear her with brutal force.

Hair was pulled, skin was licked, kissed, sucked, scraped, bitten, sweat was burning in her eyes, mixing with tears and rolling down her cheeks. Nails were dug into backs, nipples were roughly pinched and twisted as well as gently kissed and caressed. Egos and ambitions were crushed and obliterated only to rise from the ashes, over and over that night.

Aki eagerly fled into this new cocoon, redefined her role as nothing but commanded and compelled to balance on the edge of erotic insanity. A body she had no claim to, destined to this shameless use by a nameless penetrator. Aki was gone, replaced by Honey, Geisha, Goddess, Vixen, Slut, Whore, Fucktoy, whatever label did the trick. Only then could she relax and live each second as if the ones before and the ones after didn't matter, were not even there to begin with. In that whirlpool all other noise was drowned out by the sheer force of a roaring fire of lust scorching her soul clean.

It was a ritual, a shaman beat of flesh sliding into flesh, skin sliding and slapping skin, bodies in an ancient routine, lulling its participants into an incubatic trance. It was not just lust, pain and pleasure given and taken. It was a rocking with a purpose. Even here, in the sweat and sighs, on a dirty mattress on rhythmically creaking floorboards in an abandoned demolition project, to the pungent smell of semen and sawdust, the goal was the same as in the strobes and stabbing dancebeats in the club just a few breathless moments ago.

Even here, Aki danced. Tomorrow she would stumble on, hollow as ever, less than mortal. But right there, and right then, she was nothing short of divine.

----

The bleak warmth of the early summer morning found her lying on that mattress, inhaling the stale fumes of yesterday's insanity. She was still naked, lying on her side, the glistering curves of her cafe latte skin making chest and shoulders gleam like a polished jade statuette in a patch of intruding fresh rays from the rising sun. The intense light reflected off her own skin and burned in her eyes when she tried to raise her head to get her bearings in this unfamiliar place.

With a grunt she averted her eyes, gave up and slumped back onto the mattress again. Her limbs were sprawled in disarray and her long, black hair was a tangle of wetness striped across her face and clinging to her shoulders and chest. Absently she brushed the worst away from her eyes while she tried to, carefully, very carefully, breathe the worst fog out of her head. Tentatively, she extended her attention to the nerve ends in her body and discovered to some small content that the place was warm, and despite being both humid and fully exposed, she wasn't feeling the least bit chilly. So she decided to be in no hurry finding clothes or a towel or something. Her limbs were still too tired, so any serious exercise, like sitting up, would be out of the question. And besides, what need was there to try to cover up?

This was the bartender from yesterday's place, she assumed. And there was really no part of her that he hadn't already seen. Let alone tasted. The warmth from the sun patch through the window was actually a rather pleasant feeling, and she relaxed and concentrated on the sensation of the rays heating up her skin.

Her head was a different story, however. It felt like a geometric problem worthy of a Nobel Prize winner. Somehow it felt like her brain was occupying a larger part of her head than, well, her head. She felt a nagging pressure on the inside of her temples, as if something wanted to get out. She felt like she was slowly tilting backwards, an illusion of intoxication still lingering on her blood. Not enough to panic or to trigger any nausea, but it was a discomforting idea. Her sight was foggy, her memories were all over the place, and that inner voice that always tried to tell her when she was acting stupid and immature was nowhere to be found.

Aki drew a mental sigh of relief. The little bitch inside of her carried Luther dogmas in a little black book that she used to whisper to Aki whenever there was sight of foresight, ambition and self esteem building up in her. Then small, venomous arguments and theses like "you are no good", "there is no point in trying" and "you are a failure" seeped into Aki by her own little inverted muse's spiteful design. It was only when her own mind was so blank that no downputting was necessary to stifle the forward momentum that her inner fiend went to sleep. Moments like this. So being mentally comatose had its ups and downs of course, but a little pounding headache was a price that Aki was willing to pay for a fleeing moment of peace of mind.

All in all, it was a good morning. She had danced like she hadn't danced in weeks, and chased the acid rain clouds away for a while.

Then steps approached, softly across the large room, the creaking floorboards coming closer and closer until finally stopping just in front of Aki's immobile shape. She let her eyes open again and saw a pair of bare feet and calves on the floor in front of her face. They dissapeared up into a pair of cut off loose denim pants just below the knee. Her own disengaged motorics didn't allow for a further exploration, but she knew who it was already.

"Good morning," she mumbled, and the two feet took a brief step back and the bartender knelt down to sit on the floor, legs crossed beside her.

He had no shirt on, and Aki's drowsy eyes started to notice, for the first time, how the man actually looked. She alredy knew how the shape of his muscles and sinews went, and how the various textures of his skin felt under her palms, tongue or lips, but to actually see it in broad daylight was a whole different thing. She had spent the whole night in a blur of shapes and emotions, and was now amazed at all the details she had missed. What she had felt like a minor irregulatiry across his chest was in fact a long, white scar with stitchmarks lining it like a bizarre braille code. And then there were the tattoos. Snippets of text, asian dragon ornaments, crosses, bullets. A myriad of small symbols and stories, memories eternally imprinted into his skin. They ran down his arms to the elbow and were randomly scattered across his chest and torso.

The bartender extended an arm and caressed Aki's shoulder while he gave her a friendly smile. The other hand held a mug full of what she guessed was steaming coffee.

"Didn't want to wake you up, love," he said, his voice darker and deeper than yesterday, the effect that alcohol and passive smoking for a whole night can have on some people.

"What time is it?" Aki wondered.

The tattooed man shrugged. "Around lunch, I guess. I haven't checked. This is when I usually get up, with the night shifts behind the bar and all." He glanced briefly over Aki at something. "The VCR says 11:30, but I wouldn't trust that evil thing if my life depended on it. It ate my Red Dwarf tape last week. I hate it."

Aki let out a short giggle. Yes, her gambling assumption from yesterday had paid off. It wasn't as much what he said as in how he said it and how he acted. Here was a guy who was in fact a real human being and not just a figment of western civilisation. One that was kind and decent, and that wouldn't run off screaming at the sight of her not so polished morning after mess. And most of all, had the guts to be a little uncool in front of his new conquest. Maybe because he realised what the stakes really were, and that nobody had conquered anybody here. Aki raised a mental eyebrow in curious surprise. That would certainly be a first.

"Hey," she said, still not moving. "Are you in a hurry today?"

"Not really, no."

"Can I stay here for a while? And I really mean right here. If I move I'm gonna die. I just need to lie down until my head stops spinning. Is that ok?"

"Sure thing," the bartender replied. "Who the hell could say no to having a gorgeous thing like you in her birthday suit on the living room floor?" 

"Gorgeous? Yeah right, I must look a mess."

"Here's a hint for you and the rest of womankind: Men like mess. Besides, unless you're in such a bad shape that you start to hurl projectile stomach acids across the floor, you are the most attractive thing in this room anyway, however ugly you imagine yourself to be. And I don't think you're heading for that gruesome destiny. I saw you the whole night yesterday. You know how to handle a good booze."

"No, I just need some time to wake up, that's all. Are you sure I'm not any trouble?" she asked.

"None at all," he said. Then nothing, he just sat there for a few seconds.

"Thank you," Aki suddenly said.

"For what?"

"For not making a big issue out of things. I just needed somebody, something, you know. I hope that you don't have any issues about me and last night."

"Honestly?" the man said. "I'm not complaining, but it would be nice to know where I have you. Are we cool, are we friends now, do I have any obligations? You know, I don't exactly take a girl home from the bar every day. Are there rules?"

"No no... we're... we're fine... I don't want anything from you. I mean, I'd like to think we're on good terms now after yesterday. No, I got all I wanted."

"...which is?"

"The best fucking cock I've had in years." 

She could hear him sputter and choke on a sip of coffee before breaking down in a hissing, laughing fit. "Damn, woman! I'm trying to handle hot beverage here, don't pull stunts like that on me."

She laughed softly. "Sorry. I thought you could handle some straight talk. After all, you screwed me to kingdom come not too long ago. Can we get more personal than that?"

"Guess not," he chuckled.

"Some friends we are, by the way." Aki said. "I don't even know your name."

"One of the girls at the club said your name is Aki."

She nodded. "Not the one in my passport, but everyone calls me that. Even my mother."

"Very well then." He took her limp hand in his and shook it demonstratively up and down. "Hello Aki. My name is Jasper. Damned pleased to meet you." 

Then he leaned over her and planted a kiss on her forehead before standing up and walking out of the room again. Aki sank back to the basic functions of surviving a hangover again, feeling the sun on her skin, feeling the balance slowly return and the headache eternally slowly retreat. She cleared her head of all conscious talk and just observed the seconds pass by, each one feeling a little more at ease in the brain department.

The little condescending bitch pixie of bad self esteem was already stirring, sifting the library of killer insults to throw at Aki. But for now, at least this one day, she knew that she could tell it to simply fuck off. The "no good" and the haunting memories that she danced away, night after night, would stay at bay.

There were ups and there were downs in the emotional like of the young woman. If she had given it an extra round of thought, she would have realised that this, naked, half comatose, hung over and basking in the extended afterglow of a sex overdose, was a pretty peculiar way to spend a high peak of her current everyday existence, and that her highs were just what she achieved when the lows were too tired to pester her.

She knew this, of course she did. But for now, it would simply have to do.

----

She still woke up to that same old rewind replay reaper man wet dream every other night. Iron bars embedded in the softness of flesh and the hardness of bones shattered like some ancient shards of pottery dug out of an arceological excavation. She would be back in the passenger seat, watching the grotesque display of a man shake and in futility grasp the penetrating spikes, hear his heels hammer like drums against the floor of the car. And the cough, that gurgling, almost astonished cough in surprise over being all of a sudden brutally massacred by sheer fucking tough luck.

But it was not the images of her father's gruesome fate that made Aki to this day wake up with a feeling in her stomach that no vomiting could ever rid her of. Not that she didn't try those nights. On her knees in the bathroom with her fingers down her throat, just to get some kind of change to a terrible inertia. No, it was not the blood, the bizarre flopping figure or even the loss of a father; a guide, an icon of safety and love, a god to a girl not quite ready to take on the big world alone.

It was herself, the Aki from two years ago, that for several minutes just sat there in the wrecked veichle and looked on as a struggling heart pumped blood out of the holes in her father's chest. A heart that long since had given up on the idea of providing blood and oxygen to the brain, and just kept a doomed body alive out of spite.

She had poked the side of her dad, stated that he was in fact dead, and then proceeded to get annoyed. Anoyed because she wouldn't reach the Nikon building in time for the opening of the trade show. Annoyed because she had gotten dust, dirt and shattered glass all over, and even inside of her blouse. Annoyed because her fucking dad didn't have the courtesy to keep his blood dripping hands from pouring the sticky red ooze over her bag that was wedged in between the seats.

The doctors and therapists had all explained to her that it was just her brain's reaction to the shock of the terrible event, that it wasn't her real self that had thought those terrible, cold and ugly thoughts. But that made little difference to a terrified little girl, because those terrible nights she was just a little girl all over again, that kept waking up with a desire to claw her own guts out, hating herself and hating the way she had been feeling. 

So Aki danced. Aki immersed herself in books, in caffeine, in dangerous games and delirious indulgements. Drugs, liquor, endorphines, sugar, social games and antisocial expressionism. There was a little girl in there who hated another little girl who had seen her father flop around like a live herring on the roast. And Aki tried her damndest to drown out her weeping. The nights were her enemy, and she did all she could to avoid that dream, and the private panic peak that followed.

-----

The sun had climbed high above the horizon and the world didn't spin as fast around the naked Asian girl's immediate surroundings anymore. She felt her senses returning, and she dared to lift her head from the sweaty mattress in the blonde Australian's combined livingroom and bedroom. What did he say that his name was now again? Jasper?

She groaned inwardly and scolded herself that she had to be a little bit more careful what she did with those last hours of days like this last one. OK, she needed a good fuck, a real solid all-nighter. That wasn't the issue. But maybe she should be picking her partners in crime with a little bit more care in the future. She vaugely remembered a conversation on this same mattress...that must have been earlier in the morning. Some blue jeans and bare feet. And tattoos. Yes, she had talked to him. And as far as she could remember, she had silently given herself a hindsight approval of her catch. Jasper, yes that was his name. Jasper the bartender. He was a good guy. This was his bed... mattres... whatever.

Aki sat up and stroke some hair out of her face. Or rather pried it away. Sweat, dust and lord knows what had dried up and glued strands to her forehead and cheeks. With a mild disgust she cleared her face from the worst of the hair and looked around.

The livingroom was a sparse place. A wooden board floor and wallpaper that looked like something that had been considered bad taste even in the 70's told her that Jasper either had just moved in, or wasn't particularly interested in interior design. There was a sofa against the wall behind her, some chairs scattered at random, and bookshelves against one wall that also accommodated a TV set, a VCR and a DVD player. Other than that, the room was completely empty.

It seemed like the whole apartment was too. Through an open door she could see a small kitchen, and apart from that and a hallway in plain sight, there was only a bathroom door left unexplored. And unless he had fallen asleep in there, there was no sign of Jasper. The apartment was completely silent, and the distant humdrum of a street suggested that this apartment was located on the inside of a yard somewhere, safely shielded from traffic noise.

No, she was alone in the apartment. With a stomach faintly protesting, and on unsteady legs, she managed to get herself upright and on two legs.

"Jasper?" she said.

No answer. Aki stumbled out into the kitchen. A faint worry that this apartment was located on the bottom floor and that bypassers would see her icky body in that state of undress came and went just as quickly. As if she really cared. No, let the pervs have their fun, she thought, and walked on. On a chair in the kitchen she found her halter top and silver skirt, like a strange piece of candy wrapping discarded where it fell. Except that it probably didn't fall on a kitchen chair. Jasper must have collected the scattered pieces and hung them there. Still in a wrinkled mess, but hey, a man is a man is a man. It gave her a certain feeling of sympathy that the guy had actually made an effort to be a little bit tidy there.

Then she noted a yellow post-it note left on the kitchen table. In a large and clear handwriting it said "Look outside". Curious, she went over to the kitchen window and peered out. This wasn't the bottom floor after all. Two stories down, a lush yard with paved walkways, a small basketball court and shrubs and trees presented itself like an oasis in the urban desert. Two little kids, maybe five or six years old, were playing some elaborate game in a corner involving three tricycles and a bedsheet. It looked like a miniature bedouin tent, and they seemed delighted over the cleverness of their construction. 

On a bench just a few meters from her window sat Jasper. He had the same cut off jeans and untended hairdo as he had had earlier that morning, but with the addition of a grey hooded shirt. His feet were lazily rested on a wooden box in front of him, and he was reading a book. Aki looked at him in silence for a few seconds, trying to get her head straight around what she thought of him, and then knocked on the window.

Jasper didn't look up. The kids did though, and that's when she realised that she was standing there in full sight, bare breasted and looking like she had just recently fornicated herself into a frothing frenzy. Which she had, but that doesn't mean that small children have any business knowing.

She quickly backed away from the window, took her top and tied it in place behind her neck before trying to get the bartender's attention one more time. This time Jasper heard her knock and met her tired eyes with his own amused glance. He motioned her to open the window, which she after some problem with an unforgiving hatch managed to do, and leaned out to get some of the fresh midday air.




She Danced



"Hey there," said Jasper.

Aki just just gave him a brief smile.

"Did you sleep well?"

"I think so," Aki said, not particularly interested in getting into what not sleeping well meant for her. "What time is it?"

"We're well in the afternoon now. Why don't you come down here? Go take a shower. There's a clean towel in the bathroom and you can get a t-shirt from the drawers back in the room. I'll skidaddle off and get you something to eat while you get yourself ready. How does that sound?"

"Did you just say 'skidaddle'?" Aki said.

"Yeah, it's a great word. It can annoy the living daylight out of the right people."

"Including me, if you keep it up."

"OK, I'll redefine my vocabulary for the sake of your happiness," he said with a grin.

Aki nodded and took careful steps back through the apartment and into the bathroom. A quick glance told her that it was probably the single room in the entire building that felt somewhat clean. All white tiles that still actually looked white, and not too much dirt in the corners. For some reason it lacked a mirror, something which Aki felt immensely grateful for. She was not quite ready to tackle her own appearance just yet.

The shower was just a big nozzle at the end of a pipe protruding from the wall. At first she couldn't find any controls, but she soon discovered two levers beside the sink. Pulling them at random, she got the hang of it pretty quickly, and soon a thick mist of steam and the hammering of hot water filled the room. Aki stepped in under the shower head and let the heated rain clear her mind once more. Hot and clean, the water hit her in the face, dug into the roots of her hair and washed the sweat and smoke off her skin, enveloping her in a flowing relaxing cocoon. She felt the soothing rivers flow down her limbs, and with it any traces of waste and headache from the night before.

She felt oddly at ease, as if someone has peeled off a thick layer of mud from her and replaced it with a warm blanket. There, in a strange man's apartment, in a strange city in a strange land in a strange world, naked, wet and warm, she stood and disconnected from this universe, to drift and dream for a few precious minutes. And for once, dream a happy dream, far away from shattered glass and steel bars.

Maybe this would turn out the way it always had before. A few days of happiness, before the darkness at the perimeter of her vision closed in again. Maybe he too would hurt her in the end, like all the others, a stríng of black pearls of experience around her neck. Or more likely he'd just be unable to handle her. 

But all of that was far away. Too much to worry about. And for now Aki closed her eyes, let her face greet the warm jet from above, and stopped that damned dance. For once life was good, and that would have to suffice. 

Thanks to Minsue and Black Shanglan for helping this story through the final tribulations.



She Dances to a Different Tune



Thank you Acacia for not only your wonderful editing skills but for also your kindness and your encouragement. 

*

It had been a quiet night at the club, the tips had been difficult to come by and by the time I finished my last dance all I had in mind was getting changed and heading home. As I stepped off the stage, with what little clothing I normally wore in my hands I looked out in the thinning crowd, knowing I had to make one final walk around the seats to insure if anyone wanted a private dance.

Weaving my way through the few remaining customers I saw him. He was tall with long brown hair and piercing blue eyes. He was dressed in what I would call business casual, his eyes, unlike many not leering at me the way some kind of as I called them, "Gods gift to women." Instead he looked a bit shy, not quite meeting my smile as I played my traditional line, "Well hello sugar, did you enjoy my dance?"

Usually I would get either the over enthusiastic remark or possibly a dismissal with nary a word but instead, what I received was a calm look, his eyes locked on mine and I felt my confidence waver for a brief moment. No one at the club knew that in reality I was a submissive woman, most of the customers just wanting either a glimpse at forbidden fruit or a quick grab. Instead what I got was a man who took a sip of his watered down drink before calmly saying, "It was adequate for an establishment such as this."

It wasn't that the tone was biting, it was the words that were spoken in such a manner that found my eyes looking downward, a classic pose for a woman of my stature. I tried to regain a bit of equal footing as I replied softly, "Would you care for a private dance?" This time as he stood, moving closer, his mouth nearly pressed up against my ear I heard him say, "The proper response is "Would you care for a private dance Sir?"

I couldn't help it, a soft whimper escaped my lips as I felt his hand slip under my chin, lifting my eyes to force me to look directly into his. "You've been in this squalor so long, dear girl, that you've forgotten your manners and the proper way to speak to a superior and we both know any dominant is your superior, isn't that correct?" My words came out, unable to stop them from trembling as I answered, "Yes M'lord."

He smiled, a genuine smile and I couldn't help but shyly do the same as I listened to him saying, "Yes, as a matter of fact I do desire a private dance. However this is not the proper place. You will listen closely. I will wait outside for you, you have a choice to make. I will wait fifteen minutes for you to appear. If you do and you decide to join me then so be it. If not, then you will wonder for the rest of your days what it is that you missed out on and wonder what might have been. For now, farewell pet", and with that he took my hand, a gentle kiss and my leave.

For a minute or two I just stood there, unsure as to what to do. It had been a very long time since I had allowed my submissive nature out to play. Life at the club had grown into a comfortable pattern, the money usually good, the men predictable and my love life nonexistent. Now, life had dealt me a wild card and I didn't know whether to fold the hand or go all in.

I went into the back, retrieving my items, quickly changing into my street clothing as my mind continued to try to come to grips with what had transpired. My thoughts ran the gamut from running outside to staying in the club and getting one of the bouncers to accompany me to my car. With each passing minute I would shift from one decision to the next until finally I walked slowly toward the exit, taking a deep breath and stepping outside.

The vehicle he stood beside was not audacious, a simple sedan. He stood by the passenger door, opening it as I slowly drew near. With each step I felt my eyes lower until I came to a stop as he reached down to open it. His voice again was soft, almost hypnotic in tone as I heard, "I will bring you no harm dear girl, I only wish to give you a chance to allow that which hides within you to surface, to embrace your submission. Now, shall we begin?" As the door was opened I took a step and took a chance.

The drive began in silence, my eyes downcast, my bag in my lap, my hands clasped. After a few minutes I heard him say, "What is your name girl and not that ridiculous moniker Star they give you to dance by?" I felt the crimson blush rise to my face as my voice answered softly, "Peyton. My name is Peyton Sir." I saw the smile play on his lips as he answered, "A lovely name for a lovely woman. For tonight my name is one of two things. You will call me Sir or if you would prefer, Master."

Once again the soft whimper which came forth was accompanied by my heart hammering in my chest as my head hung down, my eyes closing as I slowly rocked in my chair, the sounds, the movement not lost on the man sitting beside me. He had a vision of a submissive, one which he would mold into the perfect slave, one which would bring his every desire to life and in the end one which he would free to embrace life and all it had to offer. Little did I know that I was to be that woman.

It was only minutes later that the car pulled into a private drive of a rather simple home When the owner of the home got out of the vehicle, I waited, my heart in my throat as he drew near and like a perfect gentleman, opened the door for me. I got out of the sedan, the door shutting as he turned, walking toward the front door and like an obedient puppy, I followed a few steps behind him.

As he opened the door for me, I stepped inside, a single light showing furniture in shadows. I heard the door lock, my body shivering at the sound as I heard him say, "Follow me Peyton." The gentleman did not wait for an answer, striding confidently down the hallway and the near darkness. I gently bit my bottom lip as I walked cautiously behind him until he stepped into a large room with a four poster bed and a large bathroom off of it. He motioned toward as I heard, "You reek of the stink of the club, you will shower then dress in your heels and nothing else. You have 10 minutes beginning now."

I stood there as he simply turned his back on me, walking back down the hallway until I heard him softly say, "Nine minutes and fifty seconds." I stepped toward the bath, turning on the light to find everything I would need waiting as I began to undress. 

It was nearing the time limit I had been given that I found myself walking back out into the master bedroom, tentatively opening the door to find the room awash in candlelight. The man of the house sat silently in a large chair in a corner, taking a sip of wine as I stepped forth. The heels I wore were from work, five inches in height and once again I felt a blush rise as I walked in the room, completely naked, my nipples hard, my sex shaven, still glistening from the shower.

As I drew near I heard a single word spoken. "STOP." I obeyed without hesitation, my eyes once again having been lowered as the man rose and walked around me as if appraising merchandise he might be consider buying. I stood as still as I could, though my body was slightly shaking as I heard him finally say, "Let me see if you have any proper training. Present yourself, Peyton."

My training in the past had included that which had just been requested of me, and without pause, I knelt, keeping my knees slightly apart, putting my hands palms down on my thighs, keeping my eyes on the floor so I did not see the smile which filled the gentleman's face as he knelt beside me and I couldn't stop the moan which slipped from my lips as his hand explored between my legs, finding me already wet and wanton as I heard, "You are a submissive slut, aren't you Peyton?" I did the only thing I could do, I spoke the truth saying softly, "Yes Master."

He stood, and I heard the familiar sound of a zipper behind pulled down as his hand found my hair. The touch was not unkind but certainly pulled my head up as I obeyed without a word being spoken, opening my mouth wide as he filled it in a single thrust as I fought not to gag. "Look at me Peyton." I obeyed, my eyes looking up, quickly filling with tears as I struggled to take all of him in, his hand in my hair not giving me a chance to draw a breath until I saw his smile. He pulled out slightly as I took a grateful breath and heard, "A submissive will always look to please her Master with every part of her body. Your mouth will quickly become familiar with my size and how to please me."

I answered in the only way I could, whimpering around the hardness filling my mouth as he slowly took what he desired from me. He forced my hazel eyes to remain locked on his as he slowly fucked me, with each passing second his dominance over me growing stronger and stronger until finally he slowly pulled free. A long line of saliva obscenely hung between us from the tip of his cock to my mouth as his member broke free and the spit dripped down my chin, onto my breasts.

I continued to kneel there, unaware a puddle had formed between my legs, my pleasure dripping forth onto the floor. "Rise Peyton, undress me." I stood, my legs quivering, my hands trembling as I worked at the buttons on his shirt and the belt on his jeans until finally he stood before me, his skin cast in candlelight as he turned, walking over to the bed and laying down on it, his hand outstretched.

Once again, I obeyed the command, words not necessary as he pulled me on top of him and slowly, oh so slowly he filled me, until I was astride him, his cock buried in my pussy, my eyes filling with a combination of the emotions which were running wild inside of me. His eyes watched me calmly, almost as if from afar, his voice sounding as if it were just that, far away as I listened. "This is your proper place Peyton. At the command of another, eager to fulfill a dominant's most decadent wish. Your body alive at their touch, at my touch. Isn't that right girl?"

I couldn't have spoken even if words were possible. My body, my mind was lost, so lost in the moment as he continued saying, "For some they need a bit of pain to find pleasure. Take your nipples in your hands, Peyton, turn them, twist them for me. Show me your need." My hands moved up of their own volition, finding the hardened nubs, whimpers turning into moans as my eyes rolled back in my head, proving his point, the delicious pain bringing forth even more decadent pleasure.

I heard his gentle laughter as he said, "I thought as much. I'm sure you also require the touch of rope, a gag, perhaps more, to surrender body and soul at times, don't you, girl?" His hips began to move, his cock filling me completely as my hair hung down, covering my face as I felt the wave beginning to overwhelm me, my body betraying me only to hear his voice say softly, "Do not dare cum without asking permission, Peyton. The consequences for disobeying will not be pleasant."

I whimpered, my voice babbling, pleading, asking for my release only to be met with no reply. It took everything I had to not surrender to my body's need, my eyes opening wide, looking down at him and silently pleading only to have him smile at me, beginning to move faster and faster, his hands on my hips, guiding me, my body giving him what he required, my lust, my desire, my submission as I finally heard him say, "CUM NOW Peyton."

The cry which escaped my lips was more animal than human, the wave of pleasure squirting forth, quickly soaking the sheets upon which we lay as with a final thrust, he shot string after string of hot, sticky cum deep within my womb. I writhed, my hands pinching my nipples cruelly, pain and pleasure mixing as one until finally my body slowly slumped forward, finding hands which pulled me down gently, enveloping me, holding me close as exhaustion and my new owner claimed me.

THE END

As always I would ask that you please vote and if you would like to comment on my work. This was written for a special young lady I spoke with. This is for you Peyton.



She Dares to Play with Her Marriage



Author's note: This is not your typical stroke story so if that is what you seek I suggest you move on to another story. Many thanks to Angel Love for the great editing of this story.

*

I'm a rather average married guy living in my Scandinavian hometown. I was neither rich nor famous in any way when I married my boss' daughter. Most of the time it is OK but sometimes it's not funny at all. Once I got offered a better paying job, which caused hell among my wife's family. Linda, my wife, began screaming about divorce and with two small children and living in a house owned by her father I had a limited choice. Her father accepted to pay me the same salary I had been offered so I had at least won something. 

Today I'm some kind of 'spider' who runs their family business. Linda's father is still the boss but he is only present a few hours a week. Her brother who is supposed to be the vice boss is completely incompetent. He is most useful for the business when he is away partying at his many useless conferences. 

Linda and I had our first date seventeen years ago when she asked if I wanted to take a drive with her in her daddy's new car. I was rather wild during those days and was flattered when my boss' handsome daughter was interested in me. Of course, I did my best to get into her panties and kept on until I had reached my goal. 

Her parents didn't like it but I think Linda felt like some kind of rebel when she continued to date me. We married two years later and one year after that we had our first child, Rebecca. A year after that we had our boy, Oliver. When Oliver was two years old Linda began a part time job in the family business, which she still does. 

Strange things began to happen a month before my 40th birthday. Linda wanted to celebrate it with a big party and had planned and worked on it for almost a year. I think she wanted to do a rehearsal for her own big day three years later. An old saying here is: 'It is only drunks and children who tell the truth.' It was my daughter Rebecca who told it to me. 

One day after school when Linda was at her aerobics class, Rebecca came to me and asked me, "Dad, why is mom having a lover?" 

I was surprised and asked, "Why are you thinking anything like that?" 

"Because Madeleine told me that she had heard her parents talk about it when they didn't know she was listening to them. Her mother had asked her father, 'Do you think Linda's lover is invited to her big party?'" 

"I'm sure she misunderstood what she heard sweetie." 

However, I made a deal with Rebecca and she promised neither to say anything to her mom nor talk any further about it with Madeleine. I sighed to myself thinking of the saying, 'The husband is the last one to know.'I felt like such a fool. 

Fortunately there was one more hour left before the shops closed. I told the kids that I had forgotten an errand to do and went to the electronic store in the nearby shopping center. Today you don't need to be any 'Sherlock Holmes' for investigating. I bought two small electronic voice recorders and one electronic phone call recorder. Everything was voice activated with many hours of recording capacity. 

I was back home before Linda and hid the phone recorder in the den and one of the voice recorders near the place where she sits down during her phone calls with her friends. I knew that she preferred the line connected phone because it was paid with a monthly flat rate and the calls didn't cost anything extra. 

The second voice recorder was intended for her car when she got back. Then I sat down and began thinking about any clues, which could at least be collected and put together. I didn't find anything. Once again I found nothing either on our PC in the den. 

On the web I searched my homepage at the telecom company for calls to and from strange numbers during the last month. Nothing. I began to think I was on the wrong track but decided to go on until I was 100% sure. I checked the invitation list to my birthday. Linda had invited many of her girlfriends whose spouses I didn't know and even several business friends. It could be one of those but it could as well be some of my own friends. I decided not to mention anything even to my best friends. 

When Linda came home from her aerobics, I took a close look at her. When we met seventeen years ago, she had been rather average. But now seventeen years later she was still in very good shape and her good taste and expensive clothing magnified her personal charm. Especially compared with many of her old classmates. Today Linda was the prettiest of them. No doubt that many men wanted to get between her legs and some of them could regard me as a simple wimp who was living off her parents. 

The next three days gave me nothing at all. The fourth day she had a call to her cell phone during a drive in her car. "No I can't now, not before the party. No . . . no! See you at the party. No . . . see you." 

At home her best friend Anne had rang her and they talked a lot of 'mumbo jumbo' before I reacted to Anna saying, "You have to see thru his wife's eyes." 

Then I heard the hardening in Linda's voice when she replied "Why should I?"

Anne was silent for a moment before she replied, "Sorry if I said something stupid, but it was Eric who got curious and asked me if I could do that?" 

"Could you?" 

"No, because I thought about what could happen if somebody who knows about your affair got drunk at the party and told Michael? I would never dare to invite him and his wife, what if somebody told her?" 

"You never win if you don't dare to do something dangerous. It's a part of the game and gets me hot." 

"Hot for whom? Him or for Michael?" 

"It's Michael's birthday party and that day I'm expected to be and want to be his loving wife." 

"I wish I dared to be as you." 

"Not difficult at all. The world is full of nice guys who want to make you happy." 

Then they began to talk about the party again. Now I knew. To my great surprise it was the fact that Eric knew about it and had not told me anything or given me any clues about it, which hurt me more than Linda's lover. As late as yesterday I was at his house helping him to start his lawn mower. 

Linda and I regarded Anna and Eric as our best friends in the neighborhood. Eric and I often did a lot of things together and I used to help him with practical things because he was, what we use to say here 'A man with the thumb in his palm.' 

He was a tax expert and used to help me with such matters. One thing was for sure; Eric was a wimp and not any real friend of mine. I felt disgusted and decided that he wasn't my friend any longer. He wasn't welcome to my party and it was my duty to tell him that at the right time. 

The next three days I got only 'mumbo jumbo' from the phone and nothing useful from the car and living room recorders. After much thinking I decided to skip the whole damn party and wrote a letter to everyone on the invitation list. Then it was high time to 'throw some kerosene on the fire.' After lunch the next day I rang Eric at his job. After the usual small talk he asked what I had on my mind.

I told him, "It's the damn party."

"It seems to be great. Anna and I are really looking forward to it." 

"That's the problem." 

"Problem? Is that a problem?" 

"Yes, it is because Linda has invited several people I don't want to have there. Therefore, I'm doing some cleaning of her invitation list. I regret to say that you and Anna are among those. Please stay away from the party." 

I hung up, but two minutes later he rang me and said, "A really good joke, indeed." 

"It wasn't any joke. I found out that you are a poor creep. You'll get a printed message by mail within a few days."

As expected, Linda rang me fifteen minutes later, angry as a viper and shouted, "What the hell are you doing? Have you gone totally mad?" 

I tried to be as calm as possible and replied with my softest voice, "You have invited some people whom I don't like and therefore I'm cleaning your list of a few of the worst mistakes."

"You must really be mad, Anna and Eric are our best friends." 

"Your friends, not mine. I don't like them any longer." 

"If they don't go, I don't go." 

"I can't force you to go, so I accept that you've chosen to be with Anna and Eric instead at my party." 

I hung up. I understood that wasn't her last word and expected her to call again within a half hour after talking with Anna. It was exactly what she did. Twenty minutes later she was on the line again and told me, "I want to clear up all misunderstandings. If I don't go, you don't go either because there will be no party. If I have to cancel the party, I will cancel our damn marriage as well. Is that clear to you?" 

It was the second time she threatened me with divorce. The first time was when I was offered a new job many years ago. She got what she wanted then but I had told her very seriously that the next time she used divorce as condition in an arguing, she got it. 

I replied calmly, "Yes darling I got your message and I hope you'll remember what I told you last time when you had the divorce crap on your agenda. It is still valid. You'll get what you want. I have work to do, so please don't disturb me any further." 

It was a cruel step against Linda who had spent a lot of time and money on the party. Even though much of the expenses was intended to be paid by her family business; the canceling would be an expensive affair for us. But her cheating and invitation of her lover to my party was much worse, at least in my opinion. 

The last half hour at the job I cleaned my desk from my personal belongings. My secretary Emma noted what I was doing and asked, "What's going on?"

"Tomorrow I will be fired, so I can clean it already today and don't need to come tomorrow." 

"What the hell have you done?" 

"Can you keep your mouth sealed until tomorrow?"

"Yes, I promise." 

"Linda had an affair and has invited her lover to my birthday party. Therefore, I have cancelled the party and when I get home today I'll give Linda the divorce papers. She will get me fired tomorrow." 

"If you get fired, I'll quit my job here, that's for sure. And welcome to the singles club." 

"Please put me in the line of your suitors."

She laughed and said, "Done, you are number seven." 

Emma was a very lovely girl, newly divorced and 32 years old with a six-year-old daughter. Her husband was a strange fellow. Out among people he was very social but different at home. He had hit her twice. I suggested her to dump him already after the first time and she did it immediately after the second time. As a lovely girl, she had many fortune seekers courting her. I had always behaved correct toward her. But we could joke about everything and had fun together.

I replied with a laugh, "Can't complain. Seven is much better than expected in such competition."

Now she got serious, looked me straight in my eyes and said, "Seven can be a lucky number." 

"I hope so." 

Before I went home, I filled the divorce forms. On my way home I mailed my letters to everybody on the invitation list. At home Linda tried to be the loving wife. First she told me that she was sorry for her overreaction and asked me to forgive her. Of course, she had never had any serious intentions about divorce, only been mad and overreacted. She was in love with me and had never regretted our marriage. 

The she told me, "Anna and Eric are humiliated but have accepted to stay away from the party if you promise to never step on their property. And both they and I would appreciate to know why they are not wanted?" 

"No problems at all. I promised to send Eric a letter. He will get it tomorrow, like everybody else on your invitation list. He will understand what a damn creep he is." 

Now she had gone pale and shouted, "What letter?" 

"Did you forgot you told me that you were skipping the damn party? It was my duty to tell the guests." 

Now she was ash gray in her face when she shouted, "Oh My Heavens, what have you done?" 

"I told everybody that there will be no birthday party. You wanted to skip it and so did I. We agreed to skip it. Didn't we?" 

Now she was sobbing, "I only said so, but never intended to do that. Did I ask you to send any stupid letters? I had already forgiven you when you came home and I got Anna and Eric to stay away as you wanted. Why did you do that to me? What shall we do know? Do you really understand what you have done? What did you write in your damn letter?" 

I gave her a copy of my letter to Eric and Anna.

Dear Mr. And Mrs. Hammar, 

Regarding cancelled birthday-party: 

I regret to say that two serious matters have been brought to my attention during the last days, which made it necessary for me to write this letter.

A.) I have information, which says that my wife is cheating on me and has invited her lover and his wife to my party. I don't want to be regarded as a 'poor cuckold' during my great day.

B.) I know that several of my so-called friends have known about my wife's adultery for a while without having any intentions to tell me about it. I don want to see those people at my party. 

My problem is that I still don't know for sure neither who of you are Linda's gigolo (if I had, you had been at the hospital) nor do I know who of you have known about Linda's adultery and regarded me as a cuckolded laughing stock behind my back. 

To be 100% sure that none of the above-mentioned people will have a good time on my account, I regret to say that I have to cancel the whole party. I don't care that it, without any doubt, will cost me my marriage, my home, my job and my company car because Linda is my boss' daughter. To all others I can only say that I'm very sorry to cancel something, which without any doubt had been a great party and an unforgettable evening for all of you. 

Best Regards

Michael Malmsten 

When Linda read the letter, she began to cry hysterically and sobbed after a while, "It wasn't anything serious with Frederick, I don't love him, and he was only different and exiting sex. I love you, only you. Please forgive me. Please say that you do."  

"Frederick Anderson?" 

"Yes." 

"Pray for his soul." 

Frederick Anderson had been a rather good rock singer before he got his present job as car salesman when he married his boss' daughter just as I did. Linda and his wife were old friends. I was a bit surprised about her choice of lovers but had no intentions to begin any vendetta against him, at least not for the time being. But it was no disadvantage if he feared for what I might do. 

I gave her the divorce papers and told her that it was the only possible solution in the mess our marriage had turned to now when the whole town knew about her affair. She understood that I was serious and ran to the bedroom.

I went to the den and did a quick listen of the phone calls. As expected there was mostly Linda and Anna's mumbo jumbo. They guessed a lot about my reason for not liking Eric but none of them came close until Anna got the idea that I knew about her cheating and suspected Eric to be the lover. Anna didn't like Linda's good laugh at that suggestion. 

During their last call Linda told her that she had used divorce in her last attempt to change my mind and my answer had got her to understand that it was a serious mistake and she had gone too far. Linda said that from now on her marriage was more important than who came to the damn party. Anna got angry and told her that she ought to have thought about the consequences for her marriage before she began fucking on the side and she was sure that I suspected Eric. However, she promised to stay away and she told Linda that they had no reason to have any connection at all in the future.

I told the kids that their mother and I had decided to go separate ways and I was sleeping in the spare room until I moved out. I had right to stay six months in the home until the divorce was final but intended to get out as soon as possible.

Then I rang Frederick Anderson's wife and told her that their invitation to my party was not valid any longer as the party was cancelled because her husband used to fuck my wife.

The next day neither Linda nor I went to work. She was still in the bedroom when I ate breakfast and left the house to search for an apartment to rent.

Emma rang me at ten o'clock on my cell phone and told that my letter had caused some hullabaloo at the job and Linda's dad wanted to see me at lunch. I accepted. At lunch he told me that it was a very sad day for him and he as father and grandfather was sorry for Linda and the children and promised to do everything to help them.

But as an owner of the family business and responsible for his employees, he had to act in different way at the work. He told me that everybody knew that neither his son nor Linda could replace me and do what I did at the job. Therefore, he offered me to replace him as the official boss for the business. His son, who had been screaming about firing me, should go from the office to the production and if Linda had any objections or refused to work with me as the boss, she had to find something else to do. 

He told me that he had worked very hard during his whole adult life and could not see any other solution for keeping the business in the family than what he had suggested. He had a dream that there would be something valuable left for Rebecca and Oliver to take over one day. I accepted.

Linda left the job, angry as a bee because of my promotion but her main reason was feeling ashamed about her reputation as the 'party slut' which she never was. She took a 'time out' for three months for working at a summer resort hotel reception. 

Instead of the big party my children and I wet to the Euro-Disney in Paris for three days and had a good time there. I stayed in the house with the children until Linda came back from her 'time out'. 

My position in 'Emma's line' had been a daily joke between us for a few days until she said that I was 'number one for 24 hours.' Then everything happened very fast. I immediately asked for a date and got a yes from her. After our third date we regarded us as a couple and to our great pleasure her daughter accepted me as 'Mom's boyfriend' and my children got a good relation to Emma.

We bought a house, in which we could move in only a week after Linda was back in town. Linda never wanted back to the family business and got a new job without any problems. She and I have agreed to share custody of the children and they are the only reason for us to talk. She says that she can never forgive me for the letter I wrote to our guests in which she in her opinion got pointed out as a slut.

She has not confessed anything neither about her affair with Frederick or if she even had other affairs. To be honest, I don't care because today it is history. My friends have told me that she has quit dating for the time being because too many of her suitors were married men and other pussy hounds with a very limited interest. Our divorce is soon final so it is not my problem. 

Some of the guys on my job had met Frederick at a single's bar after his wife had dumped him and her father had fired him from his job. When he began to complain about his bad luck, they had taken him to the parking lot for a friendly chat about the cancelled party. Somehow he had succeeded to get two black eyes and a broken nose.



She Deserved It



She knocked on the door and he answered. She greeted him with a long kiss as he closed the door. She whispered in his ear I'm your slut. He pulled her away and slapped her face, yes you are, he said, and you're late. He brought her to her knees and opened his pants, taking out his cock and shoving it into her open mouth. She sucked hard as he stroked his dick telling her what a slut she was. He grabbed her by the hair and forced her face first onto the bed, hiking up her skirt and thrusting his hard dick deep inside her not letting go of her hair. He fucked harder and faster as she moaned yelling that she was about to cum. He abruptly took it out and turned her over, forcing it once again into her mouth. She was gagging on it as it kept hitting the back of her throat. He forced her to swallow and then slapped her face again. He told her to get on her knees on the floor. She sat on her knees, hands beside her, head down, submissive all the way. He got the rope and grabbed her hair, forcing her onto the bed again. He took off her clothes and tied her up, arms open wide and legs spread, to the bed. He told her she was so going to get what she deserved. He got his vibrator out and stuck it in her cunt. She moaned with joy as the vibrator hit her g-spot, unfortunately that's all it did. She tried to moving her hips, but she was immobile, tied up to tight to move. She felt the vibrator in her, but there was nothing she could do to get herself off. He grinned and fixed himself a drink and said this is going to be a long night. She knew what he meant, because the last time he did this it lasted over an hour. He sat down on the chair and laughed, saying you're going to wish that you hadn't teased me so much, slut and turned on the tv. After 15 minutes, the begging for him to fuck her got on his nerves. He went to the bathroom and brought out a wash cloth and shoved it into her mouth, gagging her, shutting her the hell up. 

He continued to watch tv, nursing his drink, watching her try to squirm. After 2 hours he came back to her taking the vibrator out of her delicate pussy. He pinched her nipples hard and then groped her clit. She let out a stifled moan. He asked her if she wanted to cum. Her eyes begged to be fucked as she nodded her head. I thought you would, he said, and inserted the vibrator back inside of her. He took the wash cloth out of her mouth and stuck his dick back in it. You're such a slut he said over and over again, taking his dick out and slapping her, telling her what filthy slut she was. He jacked his dick off onto her face, cum dripping all over her hair, her cheeks, her lips, her chin, her neck, and finally her chest. He freshened up his drink and sat down on the chair resuming his program on tv, listening to her beg louder and louder to fuck her. I'm your slut, she screamed. He came over and said, I know, you're my slut, sluts take care of their men, not themselves. 

He proceeded to wipe her face off and put the now soiled wash cloth back into her mouth, keeping her silent. He watched tv for a half hour more and then came back to her taking the wash cloth out of her mouth. Do you want to cum? he asked. Yes, please, I beg of you let me cum, she responded. He took the vibrator out, she was red and glistening, her clit swollen beyond belief. He stroked her clit. She moaned loudly as he slipped 3 fingers inside of her. I'm your slut she screamed as he thrust another finger in her cunt. Ohhh, she moaned, I'm such your slut, do anything you want to me. He took his fingers out of her cunt and stuck them in her mouth, saying taste yourself. She licked them off. He slapped her hard this time, leaving a mark on her face. God, you're such a whore, he said. Then he narrowed his hand and slid it up her dripping cunt as far as it would go, shoving it and wiggling it as she cried, it hurts. 

He continued wiggling his fingers and shoving his hand deeper as he watched her cry. She begged him to stop, through her stifled sobs. He ignored her, his fist reaching deeper and deeper inside of her with a grin on his face, still watching her cry. He took out his hand, so wet and creamy. Admit it, he said, you loved it, slut and slapped her face. He untied her and retied her in a different position to the bed, so she couldn't leave. She belonged to him all night and he was going to make sure she didn't leave. He turned out the light, gave her a kiss, rolled over and went to sleep. Waking up every couple of hours to use her again and again, mouth, ass, cunt. At 10am he finally untied her. She was exhausted and sore. They got dressed and went out to breakfast before he left for his long drive home.



She Deserves It!



"Look guys, don't worry about her. I'll make everything right tomorrow. She put me through hell, letting me think she was having an affair with a man I hate. It was the worst three weeks of my life going through doubt, denial, resignation and rage. She deserves it, every part of suffering she's had to go through this week, to learn what kind of hell she put me through."

Brendan Mackey took a long pull from his beer; his friends Nathan Lucas and Charlie Fredrickson kept him company at the Holidome "Happy Traveler Lounge" where Brendan was hiding out. Brendan was a computer programmer for the University and met his wife Valerie in the computer lab, where a eleven year relationship/marriage had started. The men had met at a faculty holiday party years before: Valerie was a colleague in the University English department with Nathan and Charlie was a distinguished alumnus and former professor. A shared interest in several esoteric subjects drove their friendship: Civil War history, Roger Zelazny's books, Monday Night Football and literary trivia. Nathan and Charlie exchanged looks as Brendan downed his beer and refilled it from the pitcher: he was ahead of both of them put together. Nathan held up his hand for another pitcher and shortly a waitress with a plunging neckline, a short skirt and a badge proclaiming "Vicki" brought it over. Brendan ogled her muzzily as Monday Night Football kicked off.

"Brendan, I think you've gone over the top," Nathan said as he refilled his mug and topped off Charlie's. He was the middle one of the group: Brendan had just turned thirty, Charlie was fifty six and Nathan himself was forty two. The older men were chubby and causally dressed; Brendan spent an hour and half in the gym daily, and was still in the dress shirt and slacks that were his unofficial school uniform. All were six foot two. "Sure, she did a lot of things wrong, she didn't trust you, she hurt you needlessly, but she was trying rather innocently to help a couple of dear friends of hers. She didn't realize that you were getting caught in the crossfire. Lighten up." Charlie gravely nodded in agreement.

Brendan steamed. "Lighten up? Lighten up? Your wife's never cheated on you, has she?" Charlie started to say something, but Brendan cut him off. "Sorry, Charlie. I know you've always been in a different kind of relationship and that's your business." Charlie looked at Brendan sharply, but settled back to nurse his beer. "Betrayal is one of the worst agonies man could ever know, and betrayal with a slimeball is agony cubed. I don't care what she meant, or what her intentions were. Valerie hasn't paid me a lot of attention lately, and the thought she was screwing that cokehead Jarvis Griffin was an insult: I thought my heart or my head was going to explode for days. No, no, no, she doesn't deserve any consideration until she's learned her lesson."

"You teach children lessons," Charlie murmured as he arched his right eyebrow.

"Some people would have called what she was doing noble," Nathan retorted, "she helped Jarvis get clean and sober for the moment and got Michelle to consider giving him another chance. Everybody deserves another chance; you should consider giving your wife one." Charlie's eyes darted to see Brendan's reaction.

Brendan shrugged. "Look, I'm only giving her a taste of what she gave me. I let her think I was going to screw every woman I could get my hands on this week so she would know what it feels like. She's only having one week of hell to pay for three of mine. It's over tomorrow."

Nathan shook his head, "When I was growing up I heard a line in Sunday School: 'Vengeance is mine, saieth the Lord.' That's worth thinking about."

"The Bible also says 'An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.' That's all I'm up to here, and I don't think that God is going to strike me dead for insisting on it."

Charlie stirred from his silence, "I think someone also said 'An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth lives the world blind and toothless.'"

Brendan sniggered. "You must have seen that in a movie about Gandhi. Look Charlie, I don't expect you to understand all this, after all, you're a free spirit, you're an artist, you've been getting regular action next door all these years without a commitment. . ."

Charlie glared at Brendan. "You have no idea what my life is like. I think that I've been more committed to the women I've loved than you've been. I also know what taking anger out on someone blindly can do to a person."

Brendan looked pained and stood up quickly, "Let's pick this up in a minute or two. I've got to pay the rent on this beer." He lurched out the door into the lobby toward the restrooms as his friends took a long pull from their tankards. Nathan and Charlie looked at each other gravely.

"Our waitress Vicki says that Brendan's been in here every night, drinking and watching basketball and football, running up an incredible bar bill this past week," Charlie said.

Nathan took a sip from his beer. "He's been taking some vacation time from work, so they haven't seen much of him on campus. I'm amazed: he's a good man and a good husband, better than this. He's been a good friend to us, fun to be around, generous to a fault. Tonight has been painful; he's never been like this before."

Charlie said, "Nobody deserves what's happening to those two right now. That boy is throwing away a perfectly good marriage over nothing. Just because they can't communicate well and jump to the worst possible conclusions in doubtful situations. . . "

"I thought they trusted each other," Nathan interjected, "you think you know folks pretty well after ten years and suddenly they turn into strangers. I wouldn't say he's throwing his marriage away over nothing, but he's letting his emotions call the shots. He's not thinking things through and he's not listening to us."

Charlie leaned over toward Nathan and gestured animatedly as he said: "Valerie was pretty brave to organize that intervention for Jarvis. That's why she was gone from home so much: she practically had to live with Michelle for those three weeks to convince her to give it a try and keep her nerve through it all. She had me over a couple of nights to help hold Michelle's hand and talk her into this. Brendan's always hated Jarvis since they were kids and Valerie was afraid of how he would react to her intervention. She was right; he didn't take it well at all."

Nathan shook his head. "Valerie isn't a saint in all this; she did screw things up pretty dramatically to let him jump to the conclusions he did, and she didn't pay attention to how he was doing while she was off fixing her friends' lives. From time to time, she's taken on these little crusades for what she thinks is right without thinking through the consequences; the last time she did something like this she almost got fired in spite of tenure. She can be relentless and single minded in her objectives and this is the first time Brendan's been caught in the crossfire. I hope this crisis doesn't change her for the worse."

Charlie looked at Nathan with concern. "How's Valerie taking all this?"

Nathan shrugged and took another pull from his beer. "Not well. She's been sullen and silent outside of class this past week, no eye contact, no usual banter in the faculty lounge. Her students are worried about her. We've only seen her pass through the lounge this week when she's gotten her coffee: it's not like her. I hate to think how this weekend was like for her; if he wasn't going home tomorrow morning. . ."

"Can it, he's coming back." Charlie leaned back as Brendan weaved awkwardly between tables as he returned, signaling for more beer, and sat heavily on his stool.

"Charlie, you're the lucky one." Brendan blurted out. "You still have your freedom when you want it; you can hang out wherever you want without having to answer for it, and you don't have to worry about what your woman is doing as long as she doesn't bring some disease home with her. Married life is different. . ."

"Look, Brendan," Nathan cut in, touching Charlie's arm to mollify his building outrage. "I've been happily married for twenty years. We were kids when we married, but we've stayed together because whenever we got angry or had a disagreement, we resolved it before we went to bed, even if it meant staying up all night. If one of us didn't understand what the other was doing, we asked, and if the other couldn't answer right away, we trusted each other enough to know whatever secrets we had would come out and they wouldn't hurt."

"Look nothing. Did your wife stay out almost every night for three weeks without a good explanation?"

"No."

"Did your wife ever keep a secret about what she was doing like this one? Refuse to say anything about what she was doing and get snooty when you tried to find out anything?"

"No."

"Did your wife leave all kinds of little clues that pointed to her fucking an asshole when your back was turned, and lie stupidly to try to cover it up?"

"No."

"Then don't presume that your kissy face little relationship is anything like mine."

Brendan took another long drink from his beer, draining the mug and sloppily refilling it from the pitcher.

Charlie stirred once again. "I don't think you know what the price of vengeance is. Sure, people deserve the consequences of their behavior. Sure, people ought to make amends for the wrong they've done. The problem with vengeance is we get lost in our anger, we let our rage rule us and strip us of our humanity. Vengeance makes us blind, and blindness is dangerous. Irreparable damage can be done without meaning it: you could run way past 'An eye for an eye' and not even notice. We become like the monsters who've wounded us, and the circle of violence spins merrily on. You knew the truth when you started this stupid game: Valerie deserves better than this. She was Charlene's favorite student and like a daughter to her: even with her faults she's a better woman than you're treating her. I know what blind anger and frustration can make a person; I hoarded frustration for three weeks once and it unglued me. I hurt an innocent person in my frustration and risked my life in a storm to try to work out my blind anger. It took months before I could get rid of the shame and feel human again."

"Well, I disagree with you, my friend, I feel very human, very peaceful and very right in all this. Let's just leave it there. Thanks for the parable from your youth."

Charlie glared again and said coldly: "It was last year, Brendan. One year ago today." They took another sip and looked at the monitor to catch a touchdown replay.

Brendan sighed and shrugged again. "Let's change the subject, let's talk about something less controversial. After all, we're all friends here. I have a new theory for my Zelazny fansite: Corwin of Amber was really pussywhipped. What do you think of that, boys?" He giggled manically.

Charlie put down his beer. "This free spirit has just decided to walk through his open door to read his kids a bedtime story, then see what he can do for the most beautiful woman in the world. Good night." He stalked from the room; Brendan's and Nathan's eyes followed him all the way out, then returned to the game. 

"Charlie's really changed in the past few years, hasn't he?" Brendan moaned. "He hasn't been the same since Charlene died."

Nathan nodded, "Yeah, success and contentment can really mess up your outlook on life. Look Brendan, I need to roll out as well."

Brendan grabbed him by the arm. "No, no, c'mon Nathan, keep me company for a while. I'm going home tomorrow to make everything all right with Valerie, I promise. I'll behave. Stay, please?"

Nathan shook his head and disengaged his arm. "I've had enough to drink. A word to the wise: Valerie may not be a strong as you think she is. Be careful." Nathan threw some bills on the table to tip the waitress and slipped out of the room, leaving Brendan alone to finish the pitcher. Brendan staggered up to his hotel room during the fourth quarter of an overtime game.

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

Brendan's hangover the next morning was spectacular despite a pint of water and three painkillers. He entered his kitchen with a dozen roses and called out for his wife. Everything seemed normal except for a note on the kitchen table. It read:

"When I hurt you, it was 

my insensitivity, ignorance, distrust, blindness, fear.

I wasn't malicious, cruel, calculating, or unfaithful.

I made you suffer needlessly, thoughtlessly, stupidly;

I wish you would have let me spend a lifetime in atonement.

When you hurt me, it was 

deliberate, calculated, cruel, indifferent, cold. 

You are malicious, vindictive and unfaithful

(or least, you've let me think it).

The man I love is gone forever,

why should I stay?"

Brendan grimaced and put the flowers down on the table. "Shit," he said out loud, "I'm really going to have to work to straighten this out." He got a vase from a cabinet and put the flowers in water, then took his suitcase upstairs to dump his dirty clothes. The bathroom door was shut but the radio was on. Good, he thought, she hasn't left yet, she's having a long soak. He put his hanging clothes in the closet and approached to the bathroom door gingerly. Desperately sad music was welling from the radio and Brendan grimaced again: this is going to be an uphill struggle; this kind of music always feeds her blue funks.

The hangover, the music, the words he was ready to say, everything was forgotten as he opened the door and looked in. The lights were on, revealing the blood red water and pale white body in the bathtub. He flung himself to the floor beside the tub in desperation, but everything inside was cold, ice cold.