9 comments/ 210623 views/ 16 favorites Virgins By: talk2024 There's a message on my answering machine and I know it's from her. I don't know what it was that made me decide to invite her to come with me. I only knew her through the office and we chatted often enough, maybe once a week, but it was always small talk. We weren't really friends. The company had organised a reward weekend for its top sales agents and I had originally intended on going alone, having just recently split up with my boyfriend, I thought that it might be the best idea. This year, however, the conference was going to be on a cruise ship, for three days to the Bahamas. Since I had surpassed my sales goals by 50%, I was able to bring someone along with me, and at the last minute, I called her. I guess it was because she had once suggested that we might vacation together that I even thought of her at all. Anyway, she was so excited by the idea of going away that I began to look forward to leaving as well. At first, leaving for three days, four actually, as we wouldn't get home until late Monday afternoon, was the last thing that I wanted to do. I had so much work that had to be completed that being away from the office was only going to set me back. Even though this was intended to be a "work-related conference," attendance at the various functions was actually optional; after all, it was intended as a reward. Still, I knew that I wouldn't be able to relax as my mind would be stuck on unreturned phone calls, unfinished projects and so on. Even now, I'd rather not think about all the work I have to finish. Joanne's excitement about our little holiday together though was contagious and I began to think maybe I will be able to have some fun. I had stayed at the office really late on the Thursday night before leaving and consequently did not get much sleep as our flight left very early Friday morning. So by the time we arrived on board the ship and into our cabin, I headed for the nearest bed, the one on the left, and claimed it as mine. Joanne bounced onto the other bed. I only wished that I had the same level of energy. "I can't believe that we're finally here," she said, bending her legs towards her chest and then stretching them out again. "I'm exhausted," I mumbled and then yawned as I rolled over onto my stomach. "You've been working too much lately. It's good that you're here... to relax," she added, getting up for a moment to look through some of the material the cruise line had left on the desk. "Don't they have massage facilities on board? And a sauna?" she asked, leafing through the various documents. "I'm sure they do. That would feel real nice," I replied softly. She turned to me suddenly and offered me a free rub right then, if I wanted. Suddenly, my mind filled with the memory of that one time I was in her office and I had mentioned to her that my neck was sore. She then promptly sat me down in her chair and brought her fingers to the back of my head and along my shoulders and gently began to massage the muscles up and down my spine. The memory of that moment alone caused my whole body to just loosen up. This time, however, before I could even say a word, she was already sitting beside me, on her knees, on the bed, as she gently placed her hands on my shoulders once again. Slowly, she worked her fingers into my skin. "You are tense... just relax," she instructed me as I tried to loosen the muscles all over my body. Her touch was immediately soothing. "Oh... that feels really good," I said and it did. I could feel the smile in her voice as she said: "I'm glad that I can make you feel better. "You know," she added, very slowly, "it might be easier if you were to remove this shirt so that I can really work my fingers into your skin." I leaned up slightly and she helped my to remove the jeans shirt that I was wearing. I had a white T-shirt on underneath. She then stretched her hands down from my neck, sliding them under the collar of my shirt and rubbed her thumbs deeply onto my skin, across my shoulders. "How's that?" she asked. "Much better... real good," I whispered. And for the next ten minutes, she worked quietly as I felt myself about to drift off to sleep on a few occasions. She had now brought her hands from the waist of my jeans up underneath my shirt, slowly stretching her arms forward as she worked her fingers up and down across my back. When her fingers then reached the straps of my bra, she delicately unsnapped it and pushed them aside so that she could rub the entirety of my back unimpeded. She now had her arms stretched all the way under my shirt and had in fact rolled it up half way. She continued to massage her fingers into my skin, slowly and gently, gradually working out the stress from my workweek as I really did begin to relax. "How does that feel?" she asked finally, her voice indicating that she was done though she continued to massage my back and my shoulders. "Real, real good," I replied dreamily. "Is there any other area where you feel tense?" she enquired. My legs were stiff and tired from the long day's flight and from sitting in airports, waiting through flight delays. I thought nothing of her request for me to remove my jeans as I eagerly awaited her soothing touch along my thighs and calves. I lay there now in only my T-shirt and my panties, having discarded my bra now as well. Again, she asked that I lay out flat on my stomach. Since Joanne was also wearing a pair of rather tight jeans, she removed hers as well so as to make easier for her to bend forward when she stretched out her arms. I had yet to see the erotic nature of what we were engaged in doing: one scantily clad woman massaging another, touching her body and slowly stripping off her clothes. I was lost in another pleasure, the pleasure of relaxation and sex was not on my mind. "Oh yes," I moaned, feeling an almost immediate release as she rubbed the palms of her hands along my thighs, down from my ass and back up again, using her thumbs to ease the tension out of my legs. Soon, she changed position, no longer at my side but now crouched at my feet, facing me. She worked her fingers slowly and gently along my calves. It wasn't long before my legs were soft and loose and free of any tension but her touch felt so good that I didn't want for her stop. Slowly, she ascended my legs once again, the tips of her fingers streaming across my thighs, reaching right to the edge of my panties. A shiver went through me as I felt her fingertips make contact with my ass. She sensed my reaction to her touch as she whispered, "Once I work the last remnants of tension from your buttocks, your body will be stress free." I could detect a slight nervous quality to her voice as she said this but I only sighed with pleasure at the idea of being stress free. Joanne then reached forward and grasped her fingers around the waist band of my panties and pulled them down, drawing them slowly over my thighs, down to my feet and away. I was too busy concentrating on being relaxed and stress free to think about what it might mean that I was now naked from the waist down and that she was going to be, for all intents and purposes, fondling my ass. I was lost in the sweet sensation of relaxation. I wanted to feel her hands on my ass. I wanted her to touch me. Still, my heartbeat accelerated as she lay her hands, palms down, onto my bare buttocks. She rubbed slowly, with only her fingers at first, feeling the contours of my ass, sliding, rubbing with the tips of her fingers into my skin, touching and rubbing. "Our bodies are very similar," she said, her breathing markedly jagged as she caught her breath in between in each word she spoke. "Thin... bodies - small,... round... ass," she continued. I thought that I could feel her breath against my buttocks and I was certain that she would be able to hear my heart thumping. Involuntarily, my fingers gripped tightly onto the pillow on which my head rested. She continued to trace slow, seemingly contemplative circles all over my ass, massaging, or now, truly fondling my ass. I didn't mind, though, it felt good. Again, I felt as though I would drift off to sleep. I was brought out of my reverie for a moment when I felt Joanne sliding one finger down along the crack of my ass, brushing across my anus, almost down to my pussy. "Do you like that?" she whispered. My body tensed for a brief instant as I tried to figure out the meaning of her question. Joanne slid her hands down from my ass and along my thighs and she instantly sensed a tightening of my muscles there. "Your thighs could use a bit more loosening up," she said. "Lie on your back for me," she requested and I then rolled over. Though my lids were shut, I could feel her eyes staring at me, staring between my legs. At this point, however, I was only intent on feeling; my mind was now incapable of interpreting what her staring might mean. "Release the tension," she whispered to me as she placed her hands directly onto my thighs, gently pulling them apart. I attempted to slow my breathing down, reduce my heart rate as I drew in deep breaths. "That's good," Joanne said in admiration, her eyes fixed on my chest, watching my breasts rise and fall. It then became very quiet in the room. I listened as she slid her legs back and lay forward on her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows as she rubbed the palms of her hands up and down along my thighs. Slowly, her fingers ascended my thighs, rubbing into the flesh of my skin until the tips of her fingers were touching at the edge of the hairs surrounding my pussy. I could feel her hot breath against my skin. I was so relaxed. And then I heard her moan softly as she whispered, "Oh yes." I then felt a warm, wet touch against my clit and then a sharp tingle up my spine. It felt nice and relaxing. "Mmm, oh yes..." she repeated, this time a little louder, and with more passion as she pulled herself closer between my legs and opened her mouth wider. She extended her tongue further as she licked one long, soft stroke up from under my clit and over. That was when I realised exactly what she was doing. I lifted my head in an attempt to sit up, opened my eyes and was shocked to see her leaning forward with her mouth between my legs, her tongue licking. "What... what are you doing?" I asked, my voice weak with disbelief. Joanne didn't answer me. She only continued to moan softly as she reached underneath my thighs and gripped her hands onto my ass, cradling each cheek into the palms of her hands as she pulled herself closer. I stared in amazement as she pressed her lips against my pussy and then dropped her tongue deep between my pussy lips for a taste. My whole body shook as she held on tight and she began to lick long, slow strokes with her tongue, moaning as she did so, slowly exploring the flesh of my vagina. It was then that my head fell back and I began to focus on the sensation of having her lick me like this. I was surprised that she was doing what she was doing, but also that it felt so good to have her doing it, licking me. I was then unable to say anything at all. My body shivered with excitement with each stroke of her tongue, my flesh covered with goose bumps. I was now feeling more relaxed than ever before; it was an indescribable feeling. It was like nothing I had ever done before, nothing I had ever felt before, especially as I had no idea that she had these kinds of feelings for me. It didn't take long for her to quicken the pace, either. Soon her tongue was fluttering all over, up and down, circling and furiously licking all over my pussy and my pussy was steaming by that point. She devoured my cunt, licking so quickly, feverishly tasting and licking, her tongue in continuous motion. I just had no idea that it would feel so good and that Joanne would do this for me. My heart was thundering and my legs were shaking and I knew what was coming, what was inevitably coming. To my amazement, I heard a soft whimpering sound beneath the constant lapping of her tongue between my legs and I realised that I was moaning and panting, and soon I was also shaking and humping. The mattress began to creak and still Joanne struggled to hold on, her tongue slurping up between my vaginal lips, my wet pussy. "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" I moaned continuously now and though it had seemed as though we had been doing this for hours, I know that it had only been a few minutes since her tongue first touched my clit. I could not sense any sign of her tiring and she moaned softly as well as she licked and licked, faster and faster the more she kept at it. By that time, it was all that I had needed. I thrust my mid-section forward and punctuated each thrust by exclaiming loudly each time, "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" How many orgasms I experienced that first time, I could not tell. I came in waves and it felt as though the orgasms would never end. I was astounded by her ability to hold on throughout, her tongue incessantly licking and licking. My body did come to a rest finally and I collapsed, exhausted, and slowly regained awareness of what had actually transpired between us. The pleasure that I had just finished experiencing seeped from my being and the tension returned. My legs became stiff even as Joanne continued to slowly lick her tongue across my pussy. She then looked up into my eyes but instead of finding a look of gratification, she saw shock on my face. Her smile quickly faded as I crossed my legs together and she pulled herself away. I didn't need to say a single word, the expression on my face revealed all she needed to know. I didn't mean for her to interpret my confusion with such sternness but I had never had sex with another woman before. Had she deceived me? "We should get ready for supper. I'll take my shower first," she said as she got up off the bed and quickly made her way to the bathroom. Even as she walked away, I was filled with a mixture of shame and desire as I caught a glimpse of her bare legs but surprised myself as I realised that my gaze was elsewhere, I was staring between her thighs. The crotch of her panties was wet. I lay there on the bed, naked from the waist down, with my jeans on the floor and my panties at my feet. Then, I noticed that my panties were resting on top of Joanne's jeans and my thoughts then focused on her. All I could think of now was that Joanne was in the bathroom, getting undressed, and how that was oddly arousing. For the first time in my life, I was beginning to feel a sexual desire for another woman. And as I began to picture Joanne in the bathroom, what she was doing right then, removing her shirt, her bra, lowering her panties to her feet, I unconsciously brought the fingers of my right hand between my legs and touched myself. Suddenly, I imagined that she, too, must have been touching herself, under the shower's spray; the crotch of her panties was wet. I focused on the image of Joanne masturbating in the shower and in no time, I was rubbing my clit so fast that I climaxed again. As soon as I had come, though, I began to feel guilty and wondered about the nature of my desires, even while images of Joanne's nude body kept swirling about in the back of my mind, and I continued to feel aroused. Virgins "Ahhh, Professor Caldwell. That poetry. It's so moving. I had no idea—" "Hush, Lawrence. Live the moment. How does this make you feel?" "It's like nothing I've felt before. But should we . . . should you . . .? I've never—" "No words now, Lawrence. We let the Romantic writers speak our words for us. They do it so well. This poem from Keats. Did it not make you feel alive—fully alive?" "Yes, but your hand . . ." Actually, it was two hands. The young man didn't seem to notice the one under his shirt at his nipples. All of his senses were focused on the hand Hunter Caldwell had in his lap making slow motions over something inside the material of the young man's trousers that was certainly coming to life at the attention. "Ahhhh, Professor Caldwell." The silence—other than the crackling fire in the fireplace—was so deadening that the sound of a zipper being pulled clanged like a warning bell. But the young man was too far gone for this already. Hunter Caldwell had prepared him well. He was one of three in Caldwell's Romantic Poet's course at the college that semester that he had identified as ripe for the plucking and still virginal. Virginal was important to Caldwell. That's what got him off. That first ejaculation from the young men after Caldwell's penetration and plowing inside their virginal holes. That's all he wanted from them. After that they were of no use to him—they no longer aroused him. Caldwell had chosen Lawrence first because he both seemed the neediest of the three and the least desirable conquest. He was on the pudgy side and still pimply, but he had what could be called a "pretty" face and nice brown cow eyes—eyes that had followed every move Caldwell made in front of the class. Worshipping eyes. Easy-make eyes. And there was little doubt he was virginal. He wasn't all that bright, although the Romantic Poets seemed to have set off a whole new world for him. Caldwell intended to widen that world significantly this evening. The young man had nearly melted at the invitation to dinner at the professor's house. The gourmet meal had set the stage, and the fireplace and the overstuffed leather love seat set directly in front of it and the book of Keats had been all Caldwell had needed. The young man hadn't even noticed the hands starting to work on him, as engrossed as he was in Caldwell's rich reading from Keats and the port wine that was making him mellow and taking the edge off his already-susceptible and fully innocent response to the seduction. "Oh, Professor Caldwell. Oh, oh, ohhhh." Caldwell was on his knees between the youth's spread thighs and had his lips over the young man's throbbing cock, pushing the foreskin back and flicking at the piss slit with his tongue. "Oh, oh, ahhhhhhh!" Surprised, Caldwell jerked his lips back, although his hand was still wrapped around the base of the engorged cock and gently stroking it. Cum burbled up from the piss slit and dribbled down to Caldwell's fist. Caldwell turned his head to hide his disgust and disappointment. This sometimes happened. This was the downside of taking them for their first journey. They sometimes came almost immediately. "I'm sorry, professor. It was just so, so . . ." "Yes, that's quite all right Lawrence. Nothing to be ashamed of either. All of the Romance poets experienced life to the fullest like this. This will enhance your studies. I was glad to be able to enhance your appreciation for the subject." Caldwell was standing now, and bustling around and picking up half-empty wine glasses and clattering off toward the kitchen. He was finished with this one. There had been a second of thrill—taking for the first time again—but only for a second with this one. He had greater hopes for the others this semester. Lawrence was standing now and zipping himself up. "Sorry, professor, sorry. But this has been such an experience. I'd like to—" "Yes, yes, we must do this again. I think you can find your own way out, can you?" They both knew they would not be doing this again. But in his own way, Lawrence had gotten more out of this experience than Hunter Caldwell had—much to the chagrin of Caldwell, who always wanted the best and freshest of everything. * * * * Floating along green-leafed tunnel on the river of life world opprobrium casting off in rivulets in our wake Hunter Caldwell stopped reading and cast an eye on young Joshua at the back of the scull, pulling on the oars, guiding the boat into the eddy in the river beyond the dipping branches of a willow tree. Caldwell knew the cove very well. Completely deserted, its banks lined by a deep stand of closely spaced trees and an overabundance of ferns and other lush plantings undergirding the broad oak branches and hanging Spanish moss. A very romantic spot. "I love to hear your voice reading this poetry," professor, Joshua whispered reverently as they entered their own private grotto. Joshua's shirt was off, as he'd solely taken on the job of paddling them down the small river, dark and lush under a canopy of trees, whose branches met across the top, creating very much a private, romantic tunnel effect. Caldwell had chosen the poetry just for this reason. Caldwell was more pleased with Joshua than he had thought he would be. He was thin, yes, but his musculature was good. He was beautifully formed. Always the shy, thin, shortest one in the class. The one who would never raise his arm to answer, but always would have the answer if challenged. Perhaps what had taken away from the first impressions were the eyeglasses he wore in class. Practically bottle glass with big, heavy lenses, the beauty of Joshua's face was only apparent now when Joshua had taken his glasses off and put them away in the short sprinkling they had just gone through. Joshua's wet shorts clung to his legs, and Caldwell longed to reach out and trace the promising length of the youth. The combination of the wine, and the atmosphere of the river, and Caldwell's reading of the poetry, with each poem he read studiously becoming more and more explicit, had put the young man into the mood Caldwell wanted him in. Caldwell saw that Joshua was hard through his clinging shorts. Nearly as hard as Caldwell himself was. They had arrived in Caldwell's special place along the river. He liked to think of it as his grotto of deflowering. How many young men had lost their virginity to him here, in the soft-swirling water between banks of ferns and the weeping willow tree? He had lost count himself. "You read the lines to me now, Joshua. Here, give me those paddles and lay back in the stern and rest. Yes, stretch your legs. Go ahead you can run your legs along each side of the gunwales. That will be fine. But you're soaked. Let's take these off and lay them over the bench at the bow to dry. Oh, no worry, it's just you and me. No one will see us here. We're in our own world. We'll just let the rivulets of opprobrium drift away, shall we? Just as the poem said." The young student was weakened with wine and the effort to paddle them here—and the romantic mood of river and the soothing, rich voice of his professor, who had been reading him suggestive and arousing poetry as they paddled away from the college pier and into the world of the enchanting river. And besides, he wanted this. He had been in love with Professor Caldwell since the beginning of the semester. And he was sure that the professor had shown interest in him. Of course, he'd never done it with another man—or with a woman either, truth be known—but the poetry of the Romantic poets that the professor had assigned to the class to read had opened a whole new world for him—as had the guided study of the pasts of the poets—guided by Professor Caldwell. Thus, although he was trembling—and scandalized, in a titillating way—when the professor pulled his wet shorts off him and laid them over the bench he'd been sitting on in the bow, Joshua raised no objection, gave no alarm. "Read the next lines to me Joshua," Caldwell said as he moved to the bench in the center of the boat, placing him between the legs Joshua now had stretched along the gunwales on either side of Caldwell's torso. Joshua's cock was standing nearly erect. Neither man mentioned the compromising position, though—Joshua trying to pretend it didn't exist; Caldwell not about to upset the balance. Joshua took the book from Caldwell and read: Piercing rapier, boat's bow and lover's gift, slicing like a knife. Being all, giving all for discovery's sake. As he finished the line, he let out a gasp. No longer able to pretend. "Professor. I don't . . . I've never—" "Shush, Joshua. It's all right. It's all as it should be. And it's very private here. Just lay back now and close your eyes and take in the moment. Experience it all, fully, like the Romantic poets did." Caldwell had one hand cupping Joshua's balls and the other wrapped around his cock and rhythmically, but tentatively, gently, squeezing and releasing. Joshua, now laying full back, legs spread along the gunwales, hands dipped in the water on either side of the boat, eyes closed, body trembling all over. A deep moan, with a catch of breath at the end. "Professor. We must stop. I'm not—" "The Romantic poets didn't deny any sensation that would give wings to their poetry. You've told me you want to be a poet. To be so, you must be totally free. You must experience it all. Listen to those words again, Joshua: 'Piercing rapier, slicing like a knife'; 'gift of the lover'; 'giving all—experiencing all, being open to all—for discovery sake.' Food for the muses, Joshua. You know what the poet was speaking of. You can feel it. Tell me you can feel it." "Yes, yes, I feel it," Joshua whispered through another moan. "But, oh, ohhh, not—" "Tell me what the poet was describing, Joshua." "I don't—" "Yes you do, Joshua. You do know. I've taught you to interpret poetry—to open it up, reveal it." And here Joshua gasped because Caldwell was pushing back his foreskin and lightly rubbing the young man's glans with lubed fingers. "The poet was talking of love, Joshua. Of making love—to another man." The hand cupping Joshua's balls had moved farther down and under. There were two fingers at the rim to his channel, and Joshua was shuddering and his hands had gone to the professor's shoulders, the professor being hunched over his torso now. At first trying weakly to push the shoulders away, but as Caldwell's lubed fingers, prepared while Joshua was laying back, eyes closed, entered the channel far enough for Caldwell to find the prostate, the hands on Caldwell's shoulder no longer were pushing; they were gripping hard with fingers pressed into skin and pulling Caldwell to him. Obligingly, Caldwell's face dipped down, and he took one of the Joshua's nipples in his mouth and rolled it between his teeth. Joshua gasped then, trying to gather his resolve to resist and he pushed on Caldwell's shoulders with his hands. Caldwell raised his mouth from Joshua's nipple but not his hands from Joshua's cock or his channel and smiled down into his young student's eyes. What he saw was victory. It was so achingly obvious that the young man had never experienced this before—that he was virgin—just as it was evident that Caldwell was going to win this battle of seduction. "Do you know how the poem concludes, Joshua?" "No, tell me," Joshua said with a breathy squeak. Sunbursts, filling possession, completion with a sigh, New worlds opened to my lover and I. "New worlds. That's what I have to offer you, Joshua. On the other side is so much more understanding and creative thought—so many more possibilities and rhymes will open to you. Don't you feel the rhythm already? Don't you feel part of the rhythm?" And in this, Caldwell wasn't exaggerating. He was rhythmically stroking Joshua's cock and finger fucking him, and Joshua was moving his hips in rhythm with Caldwell's attentions. And he was gasping each time the tip of Caldwell's middle finger rubbed across his prostate. But then Caldwell stopped and withdrew his hands and ran them slowly up Joshua's torso and covered the young man's breasts and slowly began tweaking his nipples. "It that all?" Joshua asked. "Should we go back now?" His voice sounded both hopeful and slightly disappointed. "It's not all if you want to cross over into the possibility of being a real poet, Joshua. It's in the poem. 'New Worlds opened'; 'my lover's rapier'; 'full possession.' To live fully, to appreciate fully, to be able to create fully, you must experience it all." "Full possession?" Joshua asked. It was almost a whimper. Almost a "say it isn't so" prayer. "Yes. Lover's rapier. Full possession," Caldwell answered in a low voice, taking one of Joshua's hands and placing it on his own cock that he had released some time ago. "Oh, God, oh god," Joshua whimpered. "Your choice, Joshua. If you want to experience it all, I can help you. And I'll be gentle." He was stroking Joshua's lower belly with his free hand, the other one still holding Joshua's hand to his engorged cock. "If you don't, you'll never make it across that river of understanding and full experience." Joshua was trembling and shuddering, undecided, tempted, scared, aroused. Caldwell reached into the pocket of his shorts and took out a condom. "Your choice, Joshua. You can come of age and join the enlightened and fully understand the world of the Romance poets now. Or you can wait and wonder and pine. I won't force you. If you want to take that step, you will have to put this on me yourself." Caldwell split open the packet and held the disk up to where the dappled sunlight caught it so that it glittered. Joshua's eyes were big. He reached out, but only half way. Caldwell had to guide the young man's hands to it and then help him roll it onto Caldwell's cock. Caldwell then went down on his knees between Joshua's legs in the stern of the boat. His lips went to Joshua's nipples and Joshua was already breathing heavily and groaning. The bulb of Caldwell's cock just pressing into the rim, Joshua began to voice second thoughts, but Caldwell raised his mouth to the younger man's and fully possessed it, muffling the grunts and groans of the initial tight entry. As Caldwell's cockhead breached Joshua's sphincter, the younger man tore his mouth away from Caldwell's and arched his back, his head bending back to where his long hair dipped into the slowly swirling water and let out a cry of first taking. Caldwell thrilled at that moment. That was the very moment he lived for. His excitement aroused him to the heights, and he engorged further and relentlessly pushed in. Joshua started to fight him, writhing and arms flailing and cries of "too big," "too painful," "too much" pouring out of him. To hold the youth still, Caldwell laced his stronger arms under the young man's pits and then bent his forearms back across Joshua's chest and locked his fists, effectively immobilizing the young man's hands from reaching Caldwell's body. He just let the young man cry out at the taking. That's what Caldwell wanted to hear. He wanted that to go on forever. But it didn't. As Caldwell bottomed and started to create a rhythm of the fuck and Joshua's channel began to adjust to the taking, the cries slowly merged into grunts and groans and then moans and sighs and Joshua was finding the rhythm as well. It wasn't long before Joshua ejaculated up Caldwell's belly and went almost completely dormant except for the sighing. Caldwell pulled out of him almost immediately. He had already ejaculated—back when Joshua was at the height of his crying out—when the youth had effectively lost his virginity. It was a secondary thrill to feel the young man come in his arms for the first time. But then Caldwell went numb. It was over. He pulled away from Joshua and sat back on the bench at the bow, moving Joshua's only slightly dryer briefs and shorts to the middle bench. Then he looked down on the naked youth with something akin to disinterest. Joshua cooled down by sighing and running his hands over his body and fondling a cock that was spent—but with his youth—could quickly come back to life. "Read me some more, professor," he murmured. "Read me some more and then make love to me again." His eyes were glistening. He felt fully enlightened. Words were spinning in his head that he knew would float to the ground in the form of a memorable poem. "I don't think so. It's getting late," Professor Caldwell said tightly. "And I think it might rain again. Paddle us back up to the college now, Joshua, if you please." * * * * Caldwell had saved Brandon for last. He was the real student. His poetry already excelled—and he knew it. Caldwell was sure that he'd only signed up for the class because he wanted Caldwell to be his first—to be the one who took his virginity. Caldwell was sure that Brandon knew the worth of his virginity, where most of the other men he took it from didn't—that Brandon valued it highly and was choosing who would get it. This made Caldwell feel both grateful and privileged. Brandon was discriminating. He knew that Caldwell was the best one to take him beyond the beaded curtain. Thus, Brandon was even more special than anyone else Caldwell had mentored—which is what he called fucking a young man's virginity away. He really had the potential to be a poet. A good first fucking would do him and the pantheon of poetry a world of good. And Caldwell would have been the moving force behind the unleashing of this talent. It made his mission in life—the collection of as many male cherries as possible—worthwhile. Brandon even looked the part. He out Byroned Lord Byron. Curly golden locks like an angel's halo; dreamy, hooded eyes that were a vortex into his pure soul; thick, sensuous lips. His smile lit up the universe; his body was that of Apollo. His voice was rich and deep with emotion. The young man was perfection itself. Caldwell chose a secluded spot along the banks of the river. A gourmet lunch, excellent wine, a sunny spot encouraging an al fresco swim in the river. A private embankment for seduction and fucking. He was laying on his back on the blanket, the book of poetry open above him—placed between his eyes and the dazzling sun. Brandon was sitting beside him, making a chain of daisies he had lazily selected and gathered from where he sat, cross-legged. His shirt was neatly folded on the grass beside him and he had removed his shoes and socks. Caldwell hadn't thought of the sexiness of a man's foot, but as he read, he glanced down at Brandon's feet. They were beautiful. Tanned, like his magnificent torso. The toes long and plump at the end. The nails perfect, as if the young man had them manicured. The curve of his instep tantalized Caldwell, and he felt the urge to put his lips to it. He was feeling sensations he'd never felt before. He wondered what it would be like to fuck a young man for the second time. Whether he could capture the thrill of the first taking. If it could be done with anyone, Caldwell thought it might be possible with young Brandon. Floating along green-leafed tunnel on the river of life World opprobrium casting off in rivulets in our wake Piercing rapier, boat's bow and lover's gift, slicing like a knife. Being all, giving all for discovery's sake. "You make it sound beautiful, professor . . . and inviting." "Is he flirting with me, giving me signals," Caldwell thought. And a chill of anticipation was running up his spine. The young god was ripe for the picking, Caldwell could see. Brandon's shorts were tented and his voice was thick from the wine and the ambiance. It was about time to suggest a swim in the river. Brandon gently took the book from Caldwell's hands and read the last line of the poem in a voice even more refined, and sensuous, and arousing than Caldwell was capable of doing. Virgin's Blood I relaxed in Micah's arms, and wrapped my own around him, letting him hold me and absorbed his heat. Snuggling closer to his warmth, I inhaled his scent as if I could never get enough. I ignored the little voice in my head that proclaimed I would never get enough of him and buried my face in his neck. After I calmed down, I pulled back a bit and looked up at him. "Why didn't I have to invite you in?" I worried my lower lip. What if the other vamp had found that he could just waltz in here uninvited? My eyes widened. Would I ever be safe anywhere? Micah smiled. "I made the reservation, remember?" "Oh, yes, now that you mention it," I nodded. I'm sure my relief showed in my sagging shoulders. He had insisted on it, now that I recall. It was a good thing too. Otherwise I'd still be huddled on the bathroom floor in a heap. At least now I knew why he'd been so adamant about why he should make the reservation. I rested my head on his shoulder, and thought about how nice it felt to snuggle up to him on the bed. I couldn't remember the last time I was able to just revel in the sense of being close to someone. I had the sneaking suspicion it had been with Micah, though. I turned my head a bit and buried my nose in the vee of his shirt. Goodness, he smells good enough to eat. Micah's hand stilled where he'd been smoothing my hair and I felt a bulge in the general vicinity of his crotch. I cleared my throat, "Well, either you've taken to packing lead, or you're really happy to see me." I half joked, this time I didn't care that he'd read my mind. All I cared about was that I was still alive and he was with me. Micah clenched his teeth together, fisted his hand in my hair, and tugged. My head tipped back and I looked directly into his fathomless, ebony eyes. "I'm extremely happy to see you," he growled, just before his lips lowered to mine. I thought of reprimanding him for bullying me around, for a split second. But, I gave a mental shrug and decided I liked it. Micah's hands were all over me. His fingers bunched in my hair, feathered down my back and over my bottom. My arms wound around his neck, and I pulled his head to me as his tongue traced a fiery trail down between my breasts. My nightshirt was no longer on my body, even though I had no memory of removing it. We were skin-to-skin, chest-to-chest. Micah cradled me in his arms as his mouth moved sensuously over my breasts. The feel of his unshaven jaw added to the decadent sensations as the short hairs prickled my skin. It made me tingle and burn as he scraped his cheek over my hardened nipples. "Ooh, yessss. I like that," I moaned. He lifted me easily, effortlessly, and lowered me to the comforter. I placed my hands on his smooth chest, then let them wander lower, across his flat stomach, to the part of his anatomy that was so happy to see me. "Ah, Tasha," he hissed between clenched teeth. "You'll be the death of me." I looked up at him and grinned. "Maybe, but what a way to go," I said, before I lowered my head to wrap my lips around the tip of his cock. Micah groaned. He buried his fingers in my hair and held my head in place as he moved his hips, and drove his thick length into my mouth. I never would have believed I would like it. But somehow, as his mind filled mine with the pleasure I gave him, I knew I could never imagine doing that for another living soul. But with Micah, it felt right. I ran my tongue down around the base of his engorged shaft, while I squeezed his sac and ran my nails over his upper thighs. His hips bucked, driving him deeper. I fisted my hand around the base of his cock, and squeezed. My hand milked his hard shaft, as I drove him closer to the edge. I pulled my head back, ran my tongue around the head, and felt the ridge around the crown. Then I plunged my mouth down over his length, using my teeth to scrape lightly over his cock. I could tell it nearly drove him wild. Micah cupped my cheeks and lifted my head before I could give him the ultimate pleasure. His cock bucked wildly, impatient for its moment of ecstasy. I felt him shudder beneath my hands as he fought to regain control of the need to come. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily and held me against him with a strength no mortal could possibly possess. He pulled me to a sitting position, cupped the cheeks of my ass in his hands, raised me up over his engorged erection, and lowered me slowly onto him. I cried out with my first orgasm as soon as his thumb thrummed the engorged nub at the apex of my thighs. I bounced up and down on his lap wildly, until he rolled us over to regain control. I had none. My control had vanished the moment he lowered me onto his massive staff. "Fuck me, dammit!" I bit his lower lip, drawing it into my mouth. He grinned. "I like that kind of language in the bedroom. It shows me what a hellcat you are." He raised himself up and pulled his cock out of me. He flipped me over onto my stomach, wrapped his fist around his bucking member and caressed its length. "Raise your ass into the air." I groaned when he gave my rear a playful slap. I never knew how erotic something like that could be. The light sting added to the fire that Micah built within me. He positioned himself behind me and rammed his cock into my tight cunt. "Ah, that feels so good, you prick." I needed this. After everything I'd been through earlier, I needed this with everything in me. More than anything, tonight, I needed to feel alive. Micah answered the urgency within me. He drove deep inside my tight channel, he pistoned his cock into the moist warmth of my body. He thrust hard, moving his blood-engorged length in and out, faster and faster. Then he pulled out and rolled me back over. "I want to see you when you come," he said, his breathing rough. I knew when he neared the edge. I felt it, even as he brought me to another climax. I saw the burning need in his eyes and the familiar glow that accompanied both his lust, and bloodlust. I reached up, wrapped my arms around his neck and drew his head down to me. He buried his face in my neck when I turned my head and opened myself up to his need. A moment of pain gave way to a pleasure so intense I climaxed again. The warm, wet velvet of my cunt milked his engorged shaft as it plunged in and out of me. He pulled his mouth from my skin and called my name in a hoarse growl. A sound so primitive, it barely sounded human. I retained my consciousness, this time. I stayed within the circle of his arms, beside him, my fingers threading through the sable silk of his hair. I held his head to me and drifted to sleep. Virgins for Black Cock "I want you girls to mind the house for me," said Donna, their mother. "Be sure to keep the doors closed and don't talk to strangers. I'll be back in time for dinner." "Yes, mother," said Julie, who along with her sister Sylvia was used to their mother's dictates. She knew by now not to challenge her; it would only lead to being given a hard time for nothing. Anyway, at least she and her sister would be free for the day, even if they were cooped up at home. Donna went out, elegantly dressed as usual in a close fitting red suit and high heels. Her long blonde hair was done up in a twist, displaying her fine cheekbones. She stopped by the pool to speak to Taylor, the groundskeeper and general handyman who'd been with the family as long as the girls could remember. Ever since their father disappeared, Taylor had taken care of the place while their mother tended to her profitable business interests. Julie sensed that her mother was instructing Taylor to keep an eye on them. He could be counted upon to report any unusual activity. Ever since his budding career in professional football ended suddenly after an injury Taylor had been a large, friendly presence around the ranch. Donna finished whatever she was saying to him and drove off in her BMW. "God, I hate being stuck here like this," said Julie to her sister. "Why do we have to live on this ranch? I'd much rather be in town where we could have a social life." This summer they were left with nothing to do. The girls were only a year apart, and at eighteen Sylvia, the younger of the two, didn't feel as resentful as Julie. The ranch was large and luxurious, with spacious grounds, a nice pool, and every comfort imaginable. She too would like to get out more, but she was used to her mother's strict ways. "It won't be all that bad. We can read and swim. And school will start in another few weeks," said Sylvia. "At least we'll have some friends again." "How can you say that? We can't drive because she won't let us get a license and we're ten miles from anywhere. What are we going to do here? And you know what? I bet everyone we know is having a great time. Angie, for instance. The last time she was here all she could do was tell me all about the wonderful dates she had." Julie walked off in a sour mood. An hour later a car drove up the long entryway and Angie appeared at the door. "Hi Julie. Hi Sylvia. I thought I'd stop by on my way to Rio Verde. How are you guys doing?" "Same as usual, Angie. We're stuck here without a car." "Why don't you just leave...come out with me for a while?" Julie was tempted. She would love to accompany Angie into town. "We can't. Our witch of a mother would kill us. I know, I know. Why do we go along with her? Well, for one thing we depend on her for everything. Someday we're going to inherit a big pile of money, the sooner the better. She would cut us off if we defy her. If I can hold out one more year, mother will send me to college anywhere I want, and I'll be free! And Sylvia will be free the next year." Julie and Sylvia had been forced to attend an all-girls junior college within driving distance of their home. Their mother would not allow them to live by themselves until they were 21. "I don't see how you can stand it. God, I'd go nuts. I like to have a good time. You know, date and stuff. Hey, wanna hear about my date with Jack last night?" Julie sighed. She was in for yet another description of one of Angie's many dates. Hearing about them only made her more unhappy with her own situation, particularly as Angie liked to brag. Yet she also enjoyed the vicarious window into the outside world Angie opened for her. "Let me see, you know Jack? No? He's the really good-looking one. Tall and dark and yummy. Anyway, he picked me up yesterday afternoon and we drove to his place. His parents were away for the weekend and we had it to ourselves." Angie paused to let this sink in. The sisters looked at her expectantly. "So, we got comfortable, you know? I mean, we got naked and hooked up." Julie was all ears. "It was the best ever. You two wouldn't believe how good it feels to have a big cock in you!" Angie had a way of putting things that left Julie feeling like she didn't know anything about boys. "We must have fucked for four hours. I made him cum three times and I don't remember how many times I did it. Must have been ten or more." She paused at this detail, before going on. "And since I've gotten on the pill, we didn't use a condom. I gotta tell you, it's soooo much better! His naked cock felt fantastic and I can't tell you how wonderful it is when he cums in me!" Trying not to look envious, Julie listened to her every word. Sylvia was embarrassed. "Anyway, I'm gonna meet Jack tonight and we're having a party at his house. There should be a nice crowd. Guess, what? We're all gonna fuck instead of dance. Dancing is out at parties. You gotta fuck to be cool." She announced this in her high-handed manner. "Really?" said Sylvia. "I can't believe that." "You better get used to it. Everyone is doing it. You don't want to be some kind of rube these days. No way. Girls are expected to know it all. You gotta be able to give good head, and fuck in every position and swallow cum if you want to be invited. I've heard that at frat parties the most popular girls will take two boys at a time. Like one in each hole." She laughed. "Have you tried that?" asked Julie. "Not yet, but I will. See you around." Angie left them for her ride to Rio Verde. "Damn," Julie fumed. "She always makes me feel like a boob. I'm tired of being a virgin. I can't go away to college if I don't know anything about sex." Sylvia was used to hearing her sister complain about their sheltered life. After what she's just heard, she was rather surprised that Julie would envy Angie's social life. It all seemed crazy to her, even if a bit titillating. "I don't know, Julie. It seems to me that Angie is a bit wild. Would you really like to be doing what she's doing?" "I'd like to have the choice. And yes, I'd like to have a sex life. Come on, I'll show you what I mean." Julie led her sister up to her room, a big room on the second floor with a comfortable sofa along with a bed and the usual bedroom furniture. Julie slipped out of her skirt and then her panties. She sat at one end of the wide couch, her legs apart. "Sit down on the couch over there, Sylvia. I'm gonna show you why I like sex." Sylvia, wide eyed, mechanically did as she was asked. Julie began to finger herself, slowly rubbing her pussy lips up and down. "When I do this, it feels good. I mean, it feels really good. I do it every night. I've learned to make myself cum." She continued to finger herself. Sylvia watched her. Despite her misgivings, she was curious to see what happened. Being practically confined to her home, Sylvia had developed a vivid imagination. "See, it's getting nice and wet. Your pussy gets all wet because it's getting ready for a cock. You know, I never even seen a real cock. Especially when it's hard. How big does it get? I really want to see that, you know?" Sylvia didn't know what to say. "I've never seen one either." "I know. You know what else I want to see? I want to see how a man cums. You know, shoots his stuff. I don't even know what it looks like. Like whether it gushes out or kind of spurts, or what?" Julie looked at her sister wistfully. "I mean, what do balls look like? Do they get hard too? Just how does a girl make a guy cum? I know that they like being masturbated and licked and sucked, but I can only imagine how to do it. God, I hate being kept here all the time." Sylvia didn't know what to say. "Maybe you'll find out at college." "I don't want to wait until college. I want to have some experience before I go there." She paused to think about this. "What we need, Sylvia, is a penis to play with. Don't you wonder what it feels like to hold a cock in your hand? Wouldn't you like to feel the foreskin pull back? God, I want know all about it! I want to suck a cock and taste the cum and then I want to feel it fuck me!" Sylvia squirmed at her sister's frank admission. She'd seen Julie become exuberant before, but not over raw sex. She wondered where all this was leading. Was it just curiosity, or was Julie thinking of some scheme to find what she wanted? Julie's breathing became heavier as she continued to finger herself. "Oh, now it's feeling soooo good, Sylvia. My whole cunt is tingling! A few moments later she groaned with orgasm. The satisfaction, though, was only temporary. Two days later Angie stopped by to relate the details of the party. "It was blast, I gotta tell you! It was the best party I've ever been to. It was at my friend Evelyn's house. Her parents were away, and we had the coast clear. Evelyn and her boyfriend Ron were the hosts. They had lots of booze and great music. Besides me and Jack there were four other couples plus Evelyn and Ron. I can't remember all their names, but I do remember Tom and Ray and of course Jamal and Derek, two black guys dating white girls." She paused to let this sink in for a moment. Julie looked at her sister for a moment, and then returned her gaze to Angie, who was warming to her topic. "Anyway, after a few drinks and some dancing Evelyn and Ron started off the fun. They stripped and did it right in front of us. I mean, it was so cool. She sucked his cock and then fucked her until they both had an orgasm right in front of us." Again, Angie paused for effect. The sisters hung on her every word. "When they finished, Evelyn announced that each couple would have to perform like they did! And you know, even though I'd never done it in front of other people before, it just came naturally! Jack and I gave a pretty good performance, if you ask me." She smiled contentedly. "I had a really good orgasm and then Jack shot his wad over my tits and face. Everybody clapped and cheered us. It was a blast!" "And then what happened?" Julie wanted to hear more. "Oh, God, we all just kept doing it all night long. The party didn't break up until four in the morning. I must have fucked every guy at least twice and so did all the other girls. I lost count of how many times I came." "Jack didn't mind?" Julie was curious. "No, he loved it. You gotta understand, at a party you can do it right in front of your boyfriend. You're really out of date, Julie. It's like dancing used to be... you do it with anyone you like." After Angie left Julie was even more determined to lose her virginity. "I've thought of a way, Sylvia. It will take some persuasion, and I'll need your help." Sylvia knew her sister well enough to know she was serious. She decided to find out what Julie had in mind. "What do you want to do?" she asked. "I'm going to get Taylor to fuck me." "Julie!" her sister exclaimed. "You've got to be crazy. Taylor would never do anything like that." "I can get him to do it, I think." "But he's not that type of man. I mean, he's worked here for years and he always does what Mother asks. Anyway, he's almost old enough to be your father and he's black!" "I think I can use his fear of Mother to work for us. And he's not too old, maybe about 40, I'm not sure. He's a man, isn't he? He's all we've got. And you heard what Angie said about fucking all those guys the other night. Two of them were black, Sylvia." "Well, it sounds crazy to me. There's no way he'd go along with it." As Julie expected, Sylvia wasn't arguing against the goal of trying to have sex with Taylor, but about the likelihood they would be found out. Knowing she needed Sylvia's cooperation if her plan was to succeed, she went to work on her sister's doubts. "I think he might come round if we go about it slowly. We need to tease a bit and draw him in, without alarming him. You know he's basically good natured." "Yes, but don't you think it would be bad to do that to him? I mean to get him to do something wrong?" "I'm sure he'll love it once he decides to go for it. And we would keep it a secret." "Well, I couldn't do anything like that, even if you did." Julie expected this from her sister. It was important that Sylvia cooperate with her, but not essential that she have sex with Taylor herself. Anyway, once she was part of Julie's plan Sylvia might go further than she intended. "Oh, don't worry about that. I don't expect you to do anything you don't want to. Just help me get him interested, and I'll do the rest." This seemed to satisfy her sister, at least for the moment. Sylvia generally went along with Julie's ideas, if only to avoid conflict. "What do you want me to do?" she asked. "I want you to help me tease him a little. That's all. We'll try it and see how it goes. Let's put on something sexy and then go out by the pool and see if we can get his attention." Reluctantly, Sylvia went along with this rather vague plan. The girls went to their rooms and rummaged through their closets. Julie found two very short white skirts and frilly tops that seemed suitable for the purpose, along with strappy high-heeled shoes. "Put these on," she said. "And let's do our makeup over." For the next hour, the girls primped their hair and faces, adding strategic jewelry and re-doing their nails in a bright red. Combing her long blonde hair into a twist, Julie looked at herself in the mirror. Her slim, girlish figure showed her long legs to advantage. Looking over at Sylvia, she thought her sister also looked unusually alluring. With her big firm breasts, and golden hair, Sylvia looked the picture of teenage beauty. They went downstairs and out to the large veranda overlooking the large pool. As expected, Taylor was working on the pool, carefully skimming the surface. Dressed in a tee shirt and bathing suit, he glanced at the girls with an expression of surprise, and then quickly continued his work. Julie walked slowly and seductively along the pool, with Sylvia at her side. They passed Taylor, who looked at them briefly, and then turned and retraced their steps. Julie strutted in her high heels in a way Taylor couldn't help but notice. "You girls ought to be studying or something, not parading around the pool like fashion models," he said good-naturedly. Taylor had known the girls since they were small and still treated them a little as if they were children. "Do you like our outfits?" Julie smiled at him. "Do you think boys would want to meet us?" "Now you shouldn't ask me that, Julie," said Taylor in his friendly way. "I'm too old for that and your mother would not like to know you've been teasing me." Julie put her hand on her hip and stood seductively, her legs a bit apart. "Well, my mother isn't here, is she? And I'm old enough to do what I want." Taylor laughed. "You'll get yourself into trouble, Julie. And you too, Sylvia. You should listen to your mother and stop thinking about boys." "I think about men, too," answered Julie. "Besides, I think you're sexy. I'd like to see what's under that bathing suit." Shocked at Julie's forwardness, Taylor made himself look severe. "You ought not to be teasing me, or anyone else. You'll just get in trouble if you go on like this." Encouraged that Taylor was making his case by alluding to "trouble" with their mother rather than his own desires, Julie stood her ground. "I don't mind if I do. I just want to have a little fun." Julie looked down at his crotch. Taylor looked embarrassed, but Julie noticed a movement in his trunks. "Sylvia, I think he likes us anyway." "Frustrated at Julie's teasing, Taylor remained firm. "I'm going to tell your mother you've been bad if you come around like this again. Now cut it out and behave yourselsves." Julie felt she had accomplished what she need to, and walked slowly away, swinging her hips in the most lascivious way she could. Back in the house, Sylvia couldn't contain herself. "I told your, Julie. He won't have it. It's a bad thing to do and he'll tell mother, I'm sure." "No, he won't. He said what he had to, but he liked what he saw. Let's see what happens." Apparently nothing was said to their mother because the next day she left the house for work in the morning with the usual instructions. Later that day Angie dropped by again, eager to tell the sisters about her latest coup. "You wouldn't believe the party I went to last night," she said, her eyes glowing. "It was wild! There must have been ten couples there and we ended up all fucking each other in an orgy. I was eating cum while getting it in my pussy at the same time. And then, you can't believe what it feels like, I took a guy in my ass. It felt good, too. Everyone said I was the sexiest girls they knew!" Angie couldn't resist impressing on Julie and Sylvia that she had a glamorous, enviable sex life. Galling as it was to Julie, Angie's behavior had the desired effect of making her friend jealous, much as Julie tried to hide it. "Well, if you want to know, I'm not going to remain a virgin much longer," said Julie. "There's no way I'll go to college like a virgin." "Good luck. I hope your mother relents and lets you two have a little fun." Angie sauntered off, pleased that she had gotten Julie's goat. When she had gone, Julie told Sylvia that she was more determined than ever to get Taylor to take her virginity. "This time it's gonna work. I just know it will. I've heard that men like women in sexy stockings and shoes. I once saw magazines like that in a store. What we need to do, is wear something really sexually alluring." "I don't think it's a good idea, said Sylvia, alarmed at her sister's determination to take risks. Besides, we don't have any stuff around like that." Once again, Julie was a step ahead. "I've thought of that. Let's look through mother's closets and see what we can find. Reluctantly, Sylvia followed her sister's lead, hoping they wouldn't find anything and Julie would drop her crazy idea. When they got to her mother's spacious bedroom suite, Julie began searching for something in the desk. "What are you looking for?" "A key. You know she keeps one of her closets locked." "Oh. I didn't know that." "Yes, I noticed it recently when I was looking around here. Let me see, this might be it." Julie took a key from the desk and tried it in the lock. The door opened into a wide walk-in closet. "Wow, look at this." Inside were racks of short skirts, slinky dresses in satin, silk, leather and vinyl. There were stiletto high heels in all colors and a half dozen thigh-high boots. There were also satin and leather bustiers, satin garter belts and two drawers of long stockings. "I don't believe this," said Sylvia. "What does she do with all this?" "You know what she does. She wears this for sex. She must have one hell of a good time." Julie had long suspected that her mother had an active sex life, which she kept well hidden. But she'd never guessed it was as interesting as this. "Come on, let's find what we need. H'mm. I think stockings, garters and one of these sexy bras should do it. Oh, and this little black satin thong." Sylvia looked stunned. She followed her sister mechanically. Julie picked out a combination of items in black for herself and pink for Sylvia. She chose a half-cup bra for the latter, in order to show off her ample tits. Quickly Julie put on the items she had chosen, and went to the long mirror to have a look. "What do you think?" Sylvia looked at her strangely. "You look like a slut, Julie." "Good. That's what I want. Let's see how you'll look." "I'm not going to wear that. I can't do it, Julie." "Don't let me down now, Sylvia. You don't have to do anything but stand around with me. You'll be wearing as much as you do when we go for a swim. More, in fact."