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The Stall

By: Ranefox



It rained constantly for three straight days. I felt like a shut-in and I needed to get the hell out. I decided to go to the Timberline, a gay and lesbian country western bar. It was the first place I had gone to with some friends, and I liked its friendly atmosphere. I ran out to my truck, got in and started it up. Fortunately, it didn't take long for the cab to get warm. 

I pulled into the full parking lot and found an empty space. I ran across the gravel and up the wooden steps. I proceeded to shake the rain from my jacket dry. I tried to avoid saturating the woman taking the two-dollar cover at the door.

The night was still young and the dance floor sparse. It was possible that the rain would keep all but the die-hard two-steppers from coming out. I scanned for familiar faces as I made my way to the bar. 

While I waited for my Calistoga with lime, I noticed the pool table had no takers. 

"Kind of quiet tonight?" I asked. 

The bartender, smiled. The blue and green striped western shirt she wore complimented her dark brown eyes. "It's still early. Give it a couple hours, and you'll have to stand in line to order your next drink."

I laughed as I rebutted, "Then I better hurry, you might run out of water."

"You're new, I haven't seen you before," she inquired.

"Bet you say that to all the girls," I replied. 

"Not to all of them," she said, as I paid for my drink.

"Thanks, I'll try to remember that," I ended as I left her a tip. 

I walked over to the pool table and set down my drink. I reached into my pocket for two quarters. I placed the coins and pulled the lever; the balls dropped loudly. I chalked up a 20-ounce cue and broke. The sound echoed as the balls scattered. I began to shoot solids and clear the table. As I leaned over to shoot the six-ball, I caught a glimpse of a woman standing near the opposite corner of the table. 

There she was, in her blazing glory. Her blue eyes sparkled like crystal, her light brown hair layered, cut just above her shoulders. Her dark blue jeans were snug, and outlined the curves in all of the right places. She wore a tight fitting white oxford shirt, the collar tips silver, accompanied by a black suede vest. The bolo tie held a slice of turquoise stone in place. I felt underdressed in my jeans and polo shirt.

"Taking challengers?" she asked.

"Are you any good?" I teased.

"It all depends, are we talking about playing pool?"

That caught me off-guard. I had not been single for a while and I forgot what it could be like out there in the world.

"Yeah, we're talking about pool. I'll be done in a minute," I answered.

I finished the last few shots and she racked for the next game. As I placed the cue ball to break, she asked me how old I was. I was amused.

"You want to know how old I am? You don't even know my name," I said. 

I broke open the rack and knocked in two, one of each. Choosing to go with solids again, I pocketed a couple before I headed back to our conversation. 

"Ok, fair enough, then," she said. "What is your name?" 

"I'm 36." I replied. "Are you gonna shoot pool, or what?" 

That quickly ended the conversation and she went to look for a cue stick. 

As I took another shot, I miscued and scratched. I could not keep my eyes from her as she searched the rack for a cue. Her cute little butt rounded out the seat of her jeans. 

She came back to the table, empty-handed and announced, "All of those cues are shit, how about sharing yours?" 

Not a usual custom with me, I agreed to share. "Oh, and by the way, I don't usually let perfect strangers use my cue, so how 'bout you tell me your name?"

She reached for my pool stick, brushing ever so slightly against my hand, and whispered. "Becky." 

Crossing in front of me, she leaned over and aimed for the ball. I stood behind her and enjoyed the view. Shooting too hard, she miscued the cue ball and sent it directly to the side pocket.

"I thought you said you were good."

She shot back, "I said it all depends on what we're playing." 

Becky handed me back the cue. We stared at each other for a few moments. 

"Your turn," She reminded me. Handing back the cue, our hands glanced each other again. 

I found myself wanting her. It had been a while since I had felt this way about another woman. Focusing on the game was going to be tough. I pocketed the eight ball with three solids still left on the table. 

We each won a game or two before we had any other challengers. While she went to the bar to buy another round, I watched her interact with the cute bartender, the same one who had flirted with me earlier. Becky's eyes twinkled as she smiled. I was in lust.

Our last game took forever now that there were challengers; it was finally over and I had won. She picked up her drink and walked towards the dance floor. Becky wanted to see if her friends had shown up yet. 

My opponent racked and I proceeded to break. I mad a couple shots, but my heart was not into it. The challenger easily won. We shook hands, complimented each other with the usual accolades and I went to find my pool-playing friend.

As I walked away from the table, I found her leaning against the rail. We talked while we watched the dancer's two-step, although some couples were dancing to their own rhythm. At the same time, I could not remember her name. 

I asked her for her name again and we both laughed. I was glad she understood, especially since she was the one who wanted to know my age before my name. 

As the next song started, Becky asked me to dance. Feeling my face flush and I hoped she did not notice, I answered yes, but that I did not two-step very well. 

When we got onto the dance floor, she asked me who would lead. 

Astonished, I reminded her of my being new to country dancing. With that, she took the lead and we promenaded along with the other dancers.

We went around the floor a few more times before the song ended then returned to our table. I was new to the city, as a single female, and this felt good to be around other lesbians. I found myself attracted to Becky and hoped it would be mutual.

My thirteen-year relationship had finally crumbled a few months ago. The comfort of not being alone had kept us together. This was the first time, since the breakup, that I had ventured out alone.

My heart pounded. It had been a long time since I remembered feeling this good. She must have felt the same way, because when I leaned over to ask if she wanted another drink, she kissed me.

I kissed her back.

We kissed again.

Becky wrapped her arms around me and pulled us closer together. Strong thrusts of her tongue sent shivers up and down my spine.

She asked if I had any plans for the evening and would I leave with her. I did not, really, so I said I was open for suggestions. I let her know that I needed a pit stop and she walked with me to the bathroom. 

Inside the large room were two stalls, both empty. I went into the larger one while she waited. 

I opened the stall door to exit and Becky rushed in, pushing me back inside. 

She locked the door, turned around and just smiled. 

In a second, she was upon me. Becky kissed with such passion I had not felt for a very long time. She pushed me back against the wall as her tongue deeply searched for mine. She was not disappointed.

Our hands roamed new territory.

Reaching down, I palmed her crotch and felt the wetness seeping through her jeans.

She gasped slightly and pushed harder against my hand.

Oh my. My brain screamed.

Becky pulled up my t-shirt and flitted her tongue against my nipples, one and then the other. 

She reached down, and felt the wetness of my jeans.

I traced my tongue along her jugular, and felt the pounding pulse of a woman in heat.

I wanted her even more.

I spun her around. With her back up against the wall, I devoured as much of her as I could.

Her soft breasts, tight and firm, tasted sweet. I suckled one nipple like a puppy getting milk for the first time.

Dropping to one knee, I tasted her juices, slightly flavored by Levi Strauss. 

She wrapped her hands around the back of my head and pulled my face tighter.

I draped my hands around her back as I tried to stand. Becky placed her hand between my legs, against my soaked crotch, and pulled me upward. I uttered a low moan.

My thigh applied pressure to her cunt as I leaned against her. We pumped together in unison, a race against time. The passion was hot and we were past the point of no return. There was no stopping now.

I leaned my shoulder against the wall for support. My hands reached around the small of her back, holding her, as she moved harder and faster as orgasm approached. 

We kissed again. I tasted her sweat. Again, she moaned as I licked her neck; nibbled at her earlobes.

She held me tight against her and rode hard against my thigh.

Becky leaned her head back as she started to come.

I held on for dear life. 

A quiet thunder escaped from her lips. 

Moments passed. Her body trembled as though there were a chill in the air. Her body felt placid, supported by my soaked thigh still between her legs. 

Her kisses became more passionate as she regained the strength to stand on her own. 

The loud pounding of the door brought us back to reality.

We kissed again before she opened the door. 

It was the cute bartender.

"Hey," Becky said. 

"Hey," said the bartender.

"Oh, shit," I muttered.

Becky smiled as she left.

The Stall



Ivana had just said goodbye to her husband and kids. They were going home, but she decided to stay at the mall a little longer to do some more shopping. First, though, she had to heed the call of nature and find a ladies room. She found one and headed towards an empty stall. She was about to latch the stall door when Ivana was startled by a woman barging into the same stall, pushing her hand aside, and closing the latch behind the both of them.

"I need to use the toilet," the woman said in a strong, cool voice. She was younger than Ivana, petite, slim, a wisp of a thing. But right away Ivana sensed a power about this stranger, unable to resist the outrageousness of someone forcing herself into the stall Ivana was just about to use. Her head was spinning. There was something about toilet stalls in public restrooms that somehow had really begun to turn her on. In fact she couldn't wait for hubby and the kids to leave so she could find herself a ladies room. She loved to sit herself down and relieve her needs, think about peeing and shitting, listen to all the other women doing the same, and take in the mix of earthy aromas. And what she lately seemed to love most of all was when the ladies room and the stalls were messy and funky, not spic and span. This one fit the bill. The mall was old and the ladies rooms were poorly maintained and infrequently cleaned. And for Ivana that was just the way she wanted it.

But the last thing she expected was for another woman to force herself into a stall she was about to use, and to lock the both of them inside it. And now, matter-of-factly this young woman pulled down her jeans, then pulled down her panties, and planted her bare ass down on the toilet seat.

"You're welcome to watch," the woman said, looking up at Ivana with a strong, commanding, but warm gaze, "in fact, I insist on it."

Her heart pounding in her chest, Ivana looked down and was amazed to see that the woman had a nice, thick bush of pubic hair between her legs. Seeing that made her pounding heart skip a beat. She had a fetish for women with hair down there, between their legs. Her husband asked her to shave her own pussy, and these days, she knew, most women and girls shaved down there. But she'd heard a lot of gay women didn't, didn't shave there or under their arms. And she'd also heard a lot of them liked to stay natural in other ways. That had begun to turn her on so much, thinking about the natural body smells of women, unwashed, sweaty, funky, even unwiped after they did their thing. Maybe this cute little babe sitting on the toilet with her jeans and panties pulled down was one of these "natural" dykes. God, the idea of that really excited Ivana. 

"Here I go," Denise said, a sassy, almost lewd smile curling up on her lips as she spread her legs wider and suddenly let go of a powerful gush of piss, obviously keen and eager to show off to the older woman, to this stranger. "I really need to urinate!"

Ivana suddenly became delirious with arousal and excitement and could feel how wet she was instantly becoming down there. Was this magic? Could this woman have read her mind? Lately, while her husband was off at work and her kids at school, Ivana has spent many hours at home searching for images and videos of women pissing and shitting. She didn't know quite why, but nothing she'd ever seen had turned her on as much. And now she was watching it in the flesh, a strange woman pissing, pissing for her, for Ivana. 

"Come down and have a closer look," Denise purred sexily, pointing down. And like a zombie who could do nothing but obey, Ivana dropped to her knees, kneeling on the sticky, dirty tile floor of the toilet stall, her face only inches from the bushy cunt spewing urine. 

"Closer," Denise said, wrapping a hand around the back of Ivana's head and bringing her face right to her pussy. Ivana's mouth opened and suddenly she had a mouthful of piss. She thought she would faint. Could this really be happening! Something so utterly unexpected? So deliciously depraved? But it was happening. There she was down on her knees, her mouth wide open as a strange woman urinated between her willingly and eagerly open lips and into her mouth. She drank down as much as she could and more spilled out of her mouth and down over the white cashmere top she had bought less than an hour ago at one of the mall's boutique and decided to just leave on and wear home. Now that newly bought garment had piss spilling down all over it. 

"You like the taste of my piss?" Denise said in a husky whisper. And Ivana couldn't help wondering if there were other women in the ladies room who could hear them, who could see under the door that there was a woman inside the stall, kneeling, facing the toilet! The possibility was lusciously obscene! All Ivana could do with her face pressed between Denise's sleek, smooth thighs was look up at Denise as Denise pissed in her mouth and on her face, and nod, yes, yes I do like the taste of your piss! I fucking love it!

It seemed like it took forever, a wonderful forever that Ivana wished would never end, but finally Denise's piss turned from a gushing, powerful stream, to a more modest flow, to a trickle.

"Guess what I have to do now?" Denise said teasingly. And Ivana's heart skipped another beat as she guessed to herself, wondering if that could possibly happen also. Could it be that this alluring young woman sitting on the toilet in front of Ivana's kneeling body would not only piss but also – shit!?

"To—to—crap? To shit?" Ivana whispered, her voice quavering with excitement, her mind reeling at the sheer unbelievability of what was happening to her here, here in this toilet stall.

"Exactly!" Denise smirked, "I need to shit. I really need to shit out a fat one. I can feel it. And I want you to have a good close up view; I want you to enjoy my shit."

And so now, with Ivana still kneeling there, Denise lifted herself up off the toilet seat and turned around on it so that her bare ass was staring Ivana right in the face. As Denise turned, Ivana's gaze drifted for a moment to the stall wall. There, scrawled crudely with a marker pen were the words "eat my funky nigga' pussy," and just below the words, a crude drawing of a pussy. To Ivana the filthy words scrawled on the side of the filthy stall where a stranger had just pissed in her mouth sent a new shiver of twisted desire racing through her body. She had so many fantasies. Toilet fantasies were just the latest. Often she fantasized about servicing the sweaty cunts of teenage black girls and so to see those words now, kneeling in this stall in front of a sexy lesbian would was about to shit, just electrified her. She imagined some nasty black girl, maybe some real sexy and young ghetto bitch, sitting on this same toilet, pissing and shitting and writing those words, an invitation to women like Ivana, white women who craved raw and raunchy black pussy, sweaty bushes, female body wastes. 

Denise lifted her ass off the seat a few inches and reached back to hold herself open. Now Ivana found herself staring right at her asshole, puckered and flared, ready to unload. God, her anus was vivid, so tempting. And below it the thick matte of her pubic bush glistened with the dewy drops of urine still adhering to the unwiped pussy.

"Lick it, taste it, if you'd like. It'll help me shit," Denise said, craning her neck and looking down at the kneeling Ivana with a sultry smile. It had been a long, long while since Ivana had been intimate with another woman. Marriage and parenthood had put an end to those escapades. Now all she had were her fantasies. But she could still keenly remember some very tasty experiences from the past where she eagerly dug her tongue not only into the cunts of other girls, but into their assholes. And now a woman who she didn't know, who had just barged into her toilet stall and forced herself down on it, exposing her bare ass, was asking Ivana to lick that ass, telling her that, as a reward, she would shit after she licked it!

Admitting to herself that she now suddenly felt like a slave to that ass, a trim smooth ass which was appealingly rounded, but more girlish than womanly, Ivana pressed her tongue into the humid crack and dug it into Denise's asshole, her fucking shithole, for godsakes! Did she hesitate? Anything but! She snaked her eager, greedy tongue into the sweaty, rubbery hole with a relish that amazed her. With all those toilet fantasies that had been churning in her head lately, she could not have dreamt up anything more torrid than this – finding herself "trapped" in a dirty toilet stall with this cute young woman, probably a lesbian, a complete stranger to her, someone who had just pissed in her mouth and was now offering Ivana her ass to eat as a prelude to shitting.

She lapped away at the puckered sphincter as Denise sighed softly, obviously enjoying the devoted oral attention. Then Denise reached back with a hand and gently pushed Ivana's face away.

"Watch this, here's something for you," Denise said as Ivana stared straight ahead at the glistening asshole, now slick with her saliva. Slowly, but dramatically, that shithole began to open and brown revealed itself. The ladies room was brightly lit and so even here, between the walls of the toilet stall, everything was nice and vivid. Denise grunted softly as she slowly pushed out the promised "fat log." Especially coming out of such a trim ass, the tip of that turd seemed really thick. Ivana's unblinking eyes were riveted on the sight, riveted in amazement, as only inches from her face this woman, this toilet invader began to squeeze out a fat log of shit for her viewing pleasure.

"Kiss it! Lick it! Suck on it!" Denise hissed softly. And not just for her viewing pleasure, it seemed! Now Ivana's heart really began to thump in her chest! She had fantasized about just this, amazed that her feverish mind could conjure up thoughts of such extreme filth and excitement. And now here, suddenly, the opportunity presented itself.

There was now maybe two inches of brown shit log sticking out of Denise's hole, that puckered hole stretched and wrapped around the girth. And "fat" sure did describe the turd. This one sure could've been described as a "log," a big, thick one, as Denise herself had guessed. And who'd sense it better than the shitter herself, the one who was about to expel it from her own rectum. A strange comparison now came to Ivana's mind as she brought her lips closer; this turd was thicker than her husband's cock when erect, much thicker.

She kissed it, then kissed it again, her eager lips meeting the surface of another woman's shit, warm and freshly squeezed out of her ass. She kissed it and kissed and kissed it and kissed it with a passion that astounded her. Then out came her tongue, her viperish, greedy tongue, which she dragged hungrily over the bumpy greasy surface, savoring the texture, the taste. And then she wrapped her lips around the log, sucking it into her mouth, dragging her lips around the length until those lips met the dilated shithole, Ivana's lips now kissing Denise's stretched anal "lips," as she sucked on her shit. 

"Mmmmmmh, oh yes, please do it," Denise cooed like a contented kitten, "suck on my shit, you shit-lover!"

And that's just what Ivana did, kneeling there as Denise held her cheeks wide open, the tip of a turd snaking out of her ass and now engulfed by Ivana's mouth!

"Now I'm going to squeeze out the rest. Put your hand under it and hold it, it's going to be a big one, a really big one," Denise promised as a thrilled Ivana held the open palm of her hand under the tip and then, suddenly – with the tip of the log still between her lips -- Ivana felt Denise squeeze the rest of the log out of her shithole in one smooth expulsion, the long log coming out of her ass like a fat brown snake, resting warm and heavy in Ivana's hand. With her lips still clamped around its end, Ivana watched in amazement as Denise expelled the full turd into her hand, amazed at its immense size, its heft, its greasy warmth, its musky, somehow intoxicating aroma. 

Now Denise turned again and sat on the toilet, facing Ivana, watching Ivana holding the log and sucking it hungrily, obediently. Their eyes met, their lust-filled eyes, Denise staring at Ivana with a commanding and yet tender and appreciative gaze. After all, this woman, this stranger into whose toilet stall she had barged was down on her knees, willingly, eagerly sucking on a big brown log of Denise's shit.

"That's it, suck it! Suck my shit!" Denise urged Ivana as she sucked it greedily with a passion and desire she hadn't shown for her husband's cock for years. Holding it in her hand, she sucked more and more of it into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the greasy surface as she drew it in deeper into her mouth. Her mouth was filled with the thick turd, its tip, which Ivana had watched emerge from Denise's asshole only minutes ago, now pressed against the back of Ivana's throat. Like a piece of hard chocolate you'd put in your mouth, the turd began to slowly melt as Ivana sucked it like that, the dissolving shit mixing with her saliva. Somehow, that fact, as much as anything, made her delirious with excitement -- the mixing of two women's essences – spit and shit – now fusing in Ivana's mouth.

Denise happily watched Ivana hold the log and lick and suck it with frenzied desire. Other women had sucked her strap-on dildos, and a very few her shit, but none with the ravenous hunger that this wife and mother showed, down on her knees, sucking away. Now Denise reached down to lift up Ivana's rather stylish skirt and tucked it into the waistband so it stayed up. Under the skirt, Denise was surprised to see Ivana wearing what looked like a pair of black silk bikini-cut panties and, with those panties, garter and hose. As a jeans-and-sweater kind of lesbian Denise didn't get to see much of such very "girly" attire. Maybe Ivana dressed this way for her husband, or maybe because that's how she wanted to feel feminine. There were many ways, Denise knew, for a woman to "feel" her own feminine essence, or to appreciate another woman's. 

Now, as Ivana kept on happily mouthing the log, sucking it, running her tongue over it as it sat in her mouth, Denise reached down to pull Ivana's panties down below her knees. Looking down she could see that the older woman's cunt was trimmed, but not entirely shaved. Denise smiled to herself, knowing that cunt was due for a surprise, a big, messy surprise.

"Give it to me now," Denise said, extending a hand and taking hold of the shit log sticking out of Ivana's mouth. Ivana surrendered the succulent brown morsel, wondering what was next in this outrageously depraved episode. With a wink and lewd, knowing smile on her face, Denise carefully took hold of her own turd, moistened now with Ivana's saliva, and brought that turd down between Ivana's legs, resting the fat, greasy log of shit right on the crotch of Ivana's pulled-down silk panties. Then she hiked the panties back up in place so that the log of shit held in the crotch was pressed right into Ivana's pussy.

"Oh my god!" Ivana gasped, shocked by what Denise had just done. As shocking as everything had been from the moment Denise stormed into the stall, this may've been the most shocking thing of all, to have Denise's turd wedged into the crotch of Ivana's panties and then the have the shit-ladened crotch of those panties pushed right into Ivana's own cunt! The sensation was astounding. Ivana had had many things pressed against her pussy, but never a fat greasy log of another's woman's shit, a log she had just licked and sucked.

"Like the way that feels?" Denise asked.

"I love it!" Ivana gasped almost breathlessly. 

"You'll like this even more," Denise said with a wicked smile, smacking her hand up between Ivana's legs, pressing up into the shit-filled crotch and thereby mashing and smearing the shit into Ivana's cunt. Ivana, down her knees with Denise's hand between her legs, working the shit caught in those panties deeper into her pussy, was breathing so hard she thought she might faint. In her wildest, most extreme and most obscene daydreams and fantasies she had imagined something like this being done to her and now it really was being done, for real, and not just in her depraved, kink and filth-filled mind.

"Look at this," Denise said holding up her hand, smudged all brown from having packed shit into Ivana, "my hand is all filthy; I need to clean it off. Maybe I should clean it off on… this,"

And then with a lewd and commanding sneer, though one touched with affection, she wiped her dirty hand clean on Ivana's freshly bought boutique top, already splattered and soaked with Denise's urine. 

"I can't believe this is happening to me," Ivana whispered in a broken voice, but in a voice that said both 'I can't believe it's happening' and 'I am the luckiest woman on this planet that it is happening. Happening to me!'

Now Denise turned again and seductively pushed her bare ass out again in Ivana's face, holding herself open so Ivana could see the messy, brown, shitty wedge.

"Lick me clean," Denise said, turning to Ivana with a smile that made it seem like these two women had known each other for ages, rather than just having met a half hour ago. "I need my shithole wiped clean now."

Ivana was thrilled to do the wiping, snaking her tongue into the funky, greasy crack and lapping away every residue of shit that clung to Denise's anus and to the smooth, warm folds of her trim girlish buttocks. Denise just closed her eyes and purred softly, enjoying the exquisite sensation of Ivana's eager tongue lapping away with loving care at her grimy, filthy shithole. 

Then Denise turned and looked at Ivana. She looked priceless, her eyes bright and alive with volcanic arousal and electrifying excitement. Her lips, her chin, her cheeks were smudged and smeared with Denise's shit. Denise smiled, smiled warmly, and drew Ivana closer, drew Ivana's lips to her own. And then they kissed, the two women, the one who shit and the one who luxuriated in the other woman's shit. Lips opened, tongues met in a kiss that reached to the bottom of both women's souls. Could there be anything more intimate than this? Could there be a deeper shedding of taboos? Denise savored the kiss. Ivana's mouth was like a hot, humid swamp, her saliva mixed with Denise's shit and still holding the scent of her urine. The two women clung to each other and kissed and kissed and kissed, their raw passions unleashed here in this toilet stall.

"Just look at you, my scat vixen! I love tasting my shit on you," Denise whispered tenderly as she finally pulled away, pulled away and gazed at the other woman, a woman who had become in only minutes both slave and lover. A string of brown, shitty saliva hung between those lips as their lips parted. And the bond which cemented the slavery and the love both was shit and piss, what most would call no more than body wastes, but what both Denise and Ivana knew were earthy, womanly essences. 

"And now let's go back inside the mall and let me buy you a nice top to replace the one I soiled," Denise said, taking Ivana by the hand and leading her out of the stall and out of the ladies room, a fat clump of Denise's shit trapped between Ivana's legs, her face and her clothes smudged and smeared and soiled with Denise's wastes, there for all to see as Denise led Ivana away by the hand and into the world…



The Stall



The Stall:

"Jesus Alice! Will you leave that poor guy alone?" 

Catherynne McHail had had about enough of her friend torturing her buddy Bengy for a lifetime. Ever since they had gotten into their first year of college she had been a bother. Now, in their third year, things continued to be the same. 

They went to a very private institution called Brandenburg University. In some ways the small classes, overbearing teachers bothering them for homework, and bell timed class slots it seemed like they were still in high school. They even wore uniforms, which while girls could wear pants if they chose and boys a kilt, they could not escape the tyranny of the argyle tie. It was only after they entered their classes they knew the level of work they were doing could only be tolerated by adults. Adults with extremely high stress tolerance levels.

"I can't," Alice protested tossing her beautiful golden hair over her shoulder. "Why should I? Haven't you seen the way he looks at me?" 

Catherynne rolled her eyes chocolate brown eyes. 

"You mean through his hands? The kid can't so much as look you in the eye!" 

Alice shook her hand dismissively. Cat would never understand. She thought Bengy was this poor geeky wallflower who just happened to be pretty like a girl. 

Alice knew better. She had known he was different since the first day she laid eyes on him. 

She had seen him studying her while she studied him. Alice could taste his longing, scent the hint of lust that lay temptingly on his breath, when he leaned in an inch too close on the bus to smell her hair. 

She had known his desires too, ever since that day in class. 

Being the eccentric ball of energy that she was, Cat had run into class one day with her papers carelessly clenched in her hand. 

Tripping on a misplaced backpack she had given herself a nasty paper cut right next to his desk. The blood slowly pooled in a diagonal line, welling to the surface of her chocolate hued skin. Seeing this she cursed, stopping in her tracks. 

"Damn!" she exclaimed. "That is one hell of a paper cut. You'd think I got in a knife fight...damn." 

Alice had filed in after her and saw the girl holding her finger as the blood dripped in her hand. 

"Geez, what did you do?" she asked rushing to her.

"Paper cut," Cat hissed, squeezing the finger.

"Why are you squeezing it?"

"I don't know."

"Well then stop!"

"No! It feels better if I hold it."

"That doesn't seem very intelligent for a Science Major."

"Fuck science. This crap stings!"

Alice looked around quickly scanning to see if their Professor had arrived.

"Should I get you to the nurse?" Alice asked. 

Cat gave her a sarcastic look. 

"Really? Over a paper cut? If I pass out from blood loss then you can take me." 

"Then you'll need more than the nurse's office." 

Cat snickered and rolled her eyes. "Screw it. I'm just going to sit here and bleed to death." 

Alice shook her head, unsure if she should laugh or yell at her. It was then that Alice looked over at Bengy. Normally he hid his face under his black bangs but at that moment, his green eyes were visible. She could see he was staring at Cat's hand. 

His pink lips were slightly parted, his eyes lidded and she was shocked that his face mirrored desire. She could feel an interesting shiver cascade down her spine. 

Turning to see what she was looking at, Cat saw Bengy duck his head down. 

"Hey!" she growled angrily. "Some kind of friend you are! Just going to watch me die?" 

"Now that is a grave exaggeration," he mumbled avoiding Alice's gaze. 

"Probably," Cat admitted. "But at least I would care if you were bleeding." 

"Fine, let me see," he snapped with authority that shocked them as well as himself. Cat shrugged and extended her hand. 

Taking out a white handkerchief and a napkin he proceeded to gently wipe the blood away from Cat's hand. Alice noticed how infatuated he seemed with it, his face so close to his project. Finally after cleaning most of it he tied the handkerchief around her hand. 

To their surprise he kissed her hand before rudely snapping out, "There! I kissed it all better. Think you're going to live?" 

Cat frowned and rolled her eyes. 

"Barely." 

Then she went to her seat, throwing an agitated "Thanks!" behind her. 

Alice stood there for a moment longer and watched him pocket the bloody napkin and lick his lips. If she was correct it had been just on his bottom lip, an almost nonexistent dot. Bengy had sampled Cat's blood. 

Bewildered she went back to her desk. Either Bengy was a vampire, or he had vampiric tendencies. Both of which were quickly turning her on. After that day she could not help but relive that memory everytime she saw him. Alice found with time that he was in factimmensely attractive underneath all of that shy. She liked the green emerald shine of his eyes, his pale porcelain skin, the way his long black hair slid along his neck. Maybe she was the vampire, because all she wanted to do was bite...

"Hey...Alice! Return from Wonderland, I repeat. Return from Wonderland!" 

Alice jolted in her seat and looked at Cat alarmed. 

"What?" 

"Class started five minutes ago and you looked like you were on a vision quest. Try to not fail this one okay?" 

Alice laughed and shook her head. She had gotten lost in her memories again.

"Whatever you say roomie." 

Leaning over to her desk she gave Cat a wicked smirk. "You better be nice to me Miss Catherynne. If you keep misbehaving you're going to wake up tied to an X with nothing on but your glasses!" 

Some of the color drained from Cat's face. 

"Lord have mercy," she mumbled turning her head away. "You are one crazy bitch." 

Alice gave her silly friend a smile. She had been very accepting of her BDSM Mistress lifestyle. Granted she had stumbled across her whips and stuff while trying to borrow a sweater, but she didn't seem to mind it. In fact, she had even been fine with her bisexuality and her peeks at her body while she was changing.

Class continued as usual, the Professor droning on about something they had already studied. Generally it didn't bother Alice but for some reason, today was different. Every muscle inside Alice was tense. She wanted to slam Bengy against the damn wall and demand he admit that he wanted it that way. He wanted to be slammed against walls. He wanted it rough and he wanted it rough from her. Alice blinked for a moment. 

Why was she so furious? Did she have a crush on him? 

Maybe she did.

Looking back at him she caught him in the middle of peeking at her. His entire face blossomed into pink and without warning he picked up his things and hurried out of class. Cat looked up curiously at him preparing to stand up but Alice shook her head. 

"I've got this," she whispered putting a pencil behind her ear. 

"Since when are you two friends?" Cat mumbled back looking at her suspiciously. 

Alice gave her puppy dog eyes. "Cat? Please bring my books to the next class. Please?" 

"Whatever," Cat said pouting. "Just don't make it worse. I happen to like Bengy, screws loose and all." 

Standing up, Alice hurried off behind him. She kept her distance as he hurriedly scuttled off. Finally he went into a rarely used boy's bathroom near the gyms. She could feel her body heat up in anticipation. Walking in, she quietly closed the door behind her. Looking down the long row she saw he had gone into the last stall. He was standing, but apparently the urinals were too public for him. A cruel smirk slithered onto her lips. Without warning she walked in front of his stall, her clipped steps echoing through the silent bathroom. 

Taking her pencil she slid the lock up and wrenched open the door. He stared at her like a deer in headlights, his pants around his ankles and his hands still on his...device. 

He didn't move, staring at her with mortified huge green eyes until she invited herself in, closing the stall door behind her. 

"Wh-wha...w-w-hat are you!?" he started but she leaned into him biting her lip until it was red and plump. 

"Hello Bengy," she said grabbing at his collar. 

Roughly she yanked him down and he fell back, sitting on the toilet seat. He let out a yelp and stiffened even more as she straddled him.

Alice was glad she had worn her plaid skirt and white button down today. The naughty school girl looked seemed to be doing wonders on his member. Or maybe it was just because her clothed pussy was rubbing against it.

Mercilessly she gripped his hair with her right hand and forced a rough kiss on him. He whimpered helplessly, sending excitement coursing through her. Bengy felt her bite his lip and felt a painful amount of blood surge to his dick. 

Jesus, how did he get into a situation like this?

She pulled his hair harder and slipped her tongue into his mouth. He was powerless to resist her and she ravaged him, her fingers digging into his scalp. When she was starting to make him lightheaded she released him. 

Her blue eyes were ashen, darkened by her lust. 

"Yes, I know Bengy," she cooed, her eyes dark with lust. "Did you think I wouldn't notice?" 

He watched as her hand dipped under her skirt and cried out when her fingers curled around his dick. She squeezed it and Bengy moaned, his head falling back as his hips strained. 

"I know Bengy," she continued, licking the edge of his ear. "...because I've been watching you." 

He felt a violent shiver run down his spine and could only gasp as she pushed her breasts into his chest. 

"I know that you've been looking at me." 

Her wild eyes turned to him with animalistic intent he felt weakened him. 

"I know you've been staring for, craving for for some time now." 

She started to stroke him in her hand and he nearly became undone at the sensation. 

Was this really happening? 

"I know exactly what you've been staring at and exactly what you've been craving..." 

Bengy stared as she leaned back and licked her lips. 

Then violently, she bit her bottom lip. He watched transfixed as a bead of blood began to dew upon it. His eyes went wide at the erotic sight and she felt him stiffen even further in her hand. He was a good length too; she couldn't wait to stuff him inside her. 

"I also know you have an intense desire for blood."

He jumped and looked at her, thoroughly humiliated. His classmate, someone he saw every day, someone who was friends with his friends knew his dark secrets. 

"It does something for you doesn't it?" she asked haughtily. "I saw the way you looked at Cat's injury, don't lie. The sight of it, the taste of it. It makes you hard doesn't it?" 

She squeezed him on hard and he cried out again, bucking up into her hand instinctively. 

"See?" she said smirking. "That's it. I have you by the balls." 

Finally Bengy could take no more. The embarrassment, the arousal, the humiliation, it was too much. 

"Please," he finally gasped breathlessly. 

"Please?" Alice asked biting her lip lightly to make the blood pour faster. "Is that the best you can do?" 

"Please...Alice," he said licking his own lips. 

"Lick it off," she demanded. "Then suck my lip."

He reached up and did as she had told him, tasting the red salty copper before sucking on her soft moist lip. He could have done this forever, but she viciously pulled his hair back and away from her face. 

"Now that I've got your attention," she said in mock joy, "I figure we set things straight." 

Bengy felt a sense of dread enter him as she eased her body slightly back from his. 

"Face it honey, you're between a rock and a hard place. What would you do if your mother found out that you're a kink? Or our mates? Or worse the whole school?" 

Bengy looked at her terrified. 

"Please Alice, don't. Don't tell anyone." 

She smiled at him and stroked his cheek with her other hand. "Oh I won't honey," she cooed. "But I will if you don't do exactly as I say, understand?" 

He nodded which earned him a smack. His eyes widened as the sting started to resonate on his face. 

"I asked you if you understand," she growled. 

"Yes Alice." She slapped him again, harder on the other cheek and he forcibly swallowed his pride. 

"Yes...Mistress," he tried.

She then smiled and stood up. He watched her as she stepped out of her underwear, leaving her heels and miniskirt on before straddling him again. The feel of her hot soft skin against his was incredible. 

"Unbutton my shirt," she demanded, putting her hands on his shoulders. 

He hesitated which earned him a warning glare. Then with shaking hands he did as she said. His fingers worked down until he could see her soft supple skin and her belly button. He stopped after the last button and watched with fascination as she pulled her bra up. Hard tight nipples came directly into view, lining up with his face. 

"Suck them," she demanded. 

This time he didn't hesitate at all. Bengy wrapped his lips around her left breast and used his other hand to rub her other one. Her back arched and she began rubbing her pussy up and down against his dick. 

He moaned, the vibrations of his lips making her cry out in pleasure. He switched breasts and felt her tangle her fingers in his hair again. Her fingers twitched as she rocked on him like he was a sex machine and not a person. Ripping a hand away from her breasts she shoved it between her legs. 

Taking that as prompting he fingered her swollen lips. She was wet, very wet. The thought that she was this wet because of him caused him to feel the ebbing of an orgasm. Feeling precum starting to leak out of him he whimpered her name.

"Alice...Mistress I'm..." 

"I know what you're about to do!" she barked even as she rode his thrusting fingers. 

"Hold it the fuck in!" Bengy didn't know how he was supposed to do it, but didn't have to worry for long when she jumped off him and kneeled in front of him. 

"Don't touch me," she demanded then she took him in her mouth. 

He cried out, his hands twitching to push her head down deeper into her warmth but he obeyed her. She moved slow, making her languid casual pace torture. 

"Oh gosh Alice," he circled. "Have mercy." 

She lifted her mouth off and starting licking up his shaft. After a few long strokes she flicked her tongue over the head of his cock. 

"What do you want Bengy?" she asked in between flicks. 

"Please Alice...Mistress..." 

"Tell me what you want." 

"I..." She was going to make him say it. She enveloped him again this time deeper and he nearly came again. 

Pleasure was so close, why couldn't he get there? 

Looking at the vixen between his legs he saw she was the cause. Taking her claw like fingers she tickled his ball sack, snapping his restraint. 

"I need to cum," he frantically panted. "Please! I'll do anything!" 

Smirking even with a dick in her mouth, Alice took him down farther into her throat and began to increase the pressure of her lips. Stroking his balls and dick at the same time he exploded a second later. Bengy literally saw stars as his orgasm overtook him. Still blinded by his aftershock he was surprised more than her that he was still quite hard.

With little warning she lifted herself up and drove herself down onto his sensitive member. She cried out tossing her head back as he filled her, her wet lips enveloping his cock. He dug his fingernails into his hands, resisting the urge to pull her closer. They sat there for a moment, her feet dangling off the ground until she stood up and started to work him up and down inside her. 

He lost his internal self preservation and began gently rubbing her breasts again, almost fascinated at the soft mounds. Roughly she lifted up his shirt and he looked at her wide eyed when she began to work his nipples. She leaned him backwards, his head touching the wall as she continued rocking on him. 

Slowly she ran her teeth over his nipples until they hardened occasionally sucking one, sometimes rubbing it fervently until he moaned pitifully. She did this until his chest heaved in a flushed red tone and then focused on fucking him again. 

"You feel pretty damn good Bengy," she said lifting herself up and down as best as she could. 

"I bet you've thought about fucking me in class. That vacant stare you sometimes get. You were imagining your cock in my sopping cunt weren't you? How tight am I?" 

"It's...so dirty," Bengy managed to grit out as his cock started to throb once again. 

"I'm fucking you in a bathroom stall," she hissed digging her fingers into his shoulders. "Of course it's dirty." 

Gripping his hair she pulled it again. Bengy wasn't sure whether he loved it when she did that or hated it. 

"Tell me you love it," she panted as she bounced up and down. "Tell me!" 

"I love it," he groaned out before she suddenly shivered on top of him. She squeezed around him and paused but wasn't sure she had orgasmed. Catching herself, she suddenly looked at him with caring. 

"I can't finish by myself," she said grinding down on him in slow circles. "It won't be as intense if you don't help me." 

Bengy looked into her eyes, the ones he had been avoiding for months. "As you wish Mistress," he whispered.

Then he gently held her hips. Lifting her up, he pulled her back towards him, then thrusted upwards when he pulled her back down. She cried out in pleasure and helped him work inside of her at a faster pace. 

"Ah...this feels good. Yes. Yes! More! Give me more!" 

He shoved into her possessed by the whole eroticism of the moment. The feel of her soft flesh riding on top of him, her body and presence lording over him, the thought of being inside her. 

They were in school for Christ's sake! He imagined his classmates just down the hall, their faces if they saw then as they fucked like bunnies. He even imagined her taking him at his class desk, not bothering to hunt him down but expose him in class. Watching Cat's eyes widen as he fucked her best friend next to her.

Wrapping an arm around her waist he used that one to lift her and used the other to stroke her clit. A few minutes later she unfurled in his arms. She let out a loud throaty moan and bit his neck as her pussy milked him deliciously. He was going to...

Suddenly they heard the door swing open. 

"...so yeah Jeff. Dude that class was ridiculous! I hate double maths. It's damn evil." 

"Tell me about it man." 

He froze as she was still enjoying her aftershock when he heard the sounds of zippers by the urinals. He heard the telltale sound of them urinating when she suddenly revived herself like a zombie. 

Wrapping a firm hand around his mouth she started to furiously fuck him, standing up. He held onto her, trying to pry away her vice like grip as she forced him to fuck just feet away from two of his classmates. His moaned and gasped were drowned in her seasoned hand. He could see their feet as they conversed and did their business. 

"You're mine," she grunted into his ear and he came undone. He screamed into her hand as he came violently, her other hand coming up to muffle his sound. 

They both shook as he filled her with his thick hot spurts of semen. Shivering, they heard the sink and then the door shut, leaving silence in it's wake.

Pulling her hands off of his mouth his head lolled to the side. She had left a nice dark mark on his neck. 

"Hardest...fuck...ever," he panted feeling borderline victimized. 

She stood up laughing happily. 

"That's what I'm here for." 

She buttoned up her shirt and slipped back on her underwear while he righted himself. Taking time to try to look presentable they exited the bathroom like nothing happened. They walked in silence to the next building where their class would soon begin.

"So..." Bengy said, feeling once again embarrassed as he reviewed the events. 




The Stall



"Now what?" 

"Now what what?" Alice asked frowning. "Now what nothing! You already agreed to be my slave. So now I'm going to use you in any way I see fit. Any objections to that?" 

Bengy gave her a small smile. "None at all Mistress." She felt her heart flutter and could only grin. 

"Hey you jerks!" 

Turning they saw Cat rushing toward them with her bag, his bag, and Alice's bag in tow. 

Knowing he had at least two textbooks inside his he rushed forward to help her, feeling a bit guilty. 

"Way to meet me at the next class!" she barked handing his bag over. "You both skipped two of our most important classes! What the hell? This isn't high school you idiots! Are you trying to ruin your lives?" 

Turning she looked at Bengy and glared at him head. 

"And what happened to you? You just ran like you saw danger!" 

Alice extended a hand thanking Cat and took her bag. 

"Thanks Cat, I know our books must have been pretty heavy." 

"Damn right they were," she huffed, rolling her now sore shoulders. "Where the hell did you two deliquents disappear off to anyway?" 

Bengy pulled at his collar nervously. 

Cat put her hands on her hips expectantly. 

"Well? You awful brats?" 

"Give her a second," Alice grinning at the blushing Bengy. "It'll...come to her." 

Cat looked at both of them back and forth in confusion before noticing an interesting red mark on Bengy's neck. Seeing her eyes draw to it, he pulled his shirt collar closer in.

Looking almost borderline horrified, Cat took a very deliberate step back. 

"Oh..." she said blushing. "Well, um...I-I'll see you guys, um in class." 

"Cat..." Alice said reaching out for the uncomfortable girl. 

"Don't touch me!" she shrieked running off. "I won't get mixed up in your world Alice! You can't make me! I do my homework! You just stay the hell over there with that!" 

Alice laughed and held Bengy's hand as they walked in her direction. 

"What do you say let's go fuck with Cat?" 

Bengy laughed. He really did like messing with her. It was always fun to prank her and get her flustered. 

"Yeah? What are we going to do?" he asked already thinking of something. 

Alice raised an eyebrow. 

"What do you mean what are we going to do? I just told you." 

He tilted his head in confusion before much like Cat, it dawned on him.

"Wait...what?!"



The Stall



As Stacy entered the bathroom, she could barely contain her hardon.

After putting an ad out online for anonymous glory hole sex, Stacy had selected the two biggest packages to "meet" her. They wouldn't see her face, nor she theirs, but she would see their cocks, hopefully as gloriously massive as their pictures had led her to believe. Both walls of the stall Stacy was headed to had large holes cut in them specifically for the big cocks she was now salivating over. Looking down, Stacy could see a pair of feet in each stall. She was running a bit late, and the other participants were already there, in the bathroom, in their respective stalls, waiting for her.

"All right, here I am," Stacy said sultrily, entering the middle stall and locking the door. "Sorry I'm a bit late, but I'm here now, so show me what you got."

Stacy grinned in anticipation as the two people in either stall struggled to push their massive hardons through their respective glory holes. Stacy licked her lips as they finally worked their full lengths into her stall. These were the biggest cocks Stacy had ever seen, even bigger than her own. Quickly disrobing, Stacy took both of the cocks in hand, her own boner standing tall.

"You two are even bigger in person," Stacy moaned, gleefully rubbing her hands up and down every inch of the behemoths invading her stall.

Watching herself stroke those two monster cocks was making Stacy harder and wetter than she had ever been before, pussy juices running liberally down her thighs as her cock stood rigid like a statue, lightly pulsating.

"Oh fuck, this is so hot," Stacy moaned, gleefully sizing up the two cocks before her. "I can't take it anymore!"

Turning to face one of the cocks, Stacy led the other cock to her ample posterior, the head resting against her weeping pussy lips.

"Go ahead," Stacy purred to the owner of cock #1, running her tongue along the length of cock #2. "Shove that monster inside me."

Cock #1 did as it was told, swiftly entering Stacy, the dickgirl gasping in ecstasy as it penetrated her innermost depths in one thrust.

"Oh fuck," Stacy moaned. "Oh god."

Stacy continued to jerk off cock #2 as cock #1 plowed into her tight pussy. Stacy, moaning, wrapped her lips around cock #2 and began to take the monster meat into her mouth, her body pushed forward with each thrust from cock #1, helping the dickgirl to get even more of cock #2 into her mouth and throat.

Stacy moaned hard onto the cock inside her mouth as the cock inside her pussy plowed away, bringing Stacy to a mind-blowing orgasm, taking her breath away, Stacy sucking like a vacuum on cock #2 as she came onto the monster prick within her pussy. As Stacy came down from the intense orgasm cock #1 had given her, her nose came in contact with the stall wall, and the dickgirl realized with eyes wide open that both behemoth pricks were totally inside of her body, this realization sending her careening into another powerful orgasm as she sucked and got fucked by two gigantic, throbbing cocks. Both of the cocks began to tense up and Stacy knew they were about to cum, and began greedily sucking on cock #2 while thrusting her hips onto cock #1, hoping to suck out all of the cocks' cum through both orifices. Stacy moaned as she felt cum surge up through the fat shafts inside her, the dickgirl cumming for a third time as both cocks came simultaneously, pumping what felt like gallons of hot, sticky cum directly into her throat and womb, filling Stacy up as she had never been filled before. Stacy came violently, bucking on the monster cocks, their eruptions of cum seemingly insatiable, cum pouring out of her mouth and pussy onto the floor, collecting in heady, warm puddles. Finally, the two cocks ceased their orgasms and pulled out of Stacy, leaving her a dripping, cummy mess. Slowly regaining her strength, Stacy stood up, her own cock now painfully erect.

"Say," Stacy said to the occupants of the stalls next to her, "you two wouldn't mind helping me out with my cock now, would you?"

Stacy heard the doors of the stalls adjacent to her open, followed by jiggling at the door to her stall.

"Oh, right, I locked it. Silly me."

Her cock standing tall, Stacy unlocked the door, swinging it open. Before her stood two gorgeous dickgirls, one brunette and the other blonde, their own cocks still very hard.

"Well, hello to you two," Stacy said sultrily. "I was expecting guys, but fellow dickgirls are greatly appreciated. So, what do I call you?"

The brunette was the first to speak up. "I'm Claire," she said, "and this is my sister, Jennifer."

"Futanari sisters? I've hit the jackpot!" Stacy exclaimed. "So, which one of you wants to take care of this boner?"

"I'll do it!" Jennifer volunteered. Kneeling down, Jennifer took Stacy's fat cock in her mouth, the dickgirl stroking her own cock as she did so.

"Oh, fuck, that feels good," Stacy moaned. "Oh yeah, you're so good at sucking cock!"

"She's had a lot of practice," Claire grinned. "Now, my cock's still hard, so I think I'll get in on this too!"

Grabbing Jennifer's ample posterior, Claire spread her sister's asscheeks apart and placed the tip of her throbbing cock against Jennifer's asshole.

"Get ready, sis!" Jennifer said, before ramming her cock deep into Claire's ass, her sister moaning in ecstasy as she deep-throated Stacy's rock-hard prick.

"Oh shit," Stacy moaned, her hands on Jennifer's heads as she face-fucked the blonde. "I'm gonna cum!"

Stacy moaned hard as she hilted in Jennifer's face, her cock dumping a fat cumload into Jennifer's throat, lightning shooting through Stacy's body as she madly humped her fuckload into Jennifer.

"Oh fuck! I'm cumming!" Claire screamed. Stacy watched in amazement as Claire dumped all of her cum into Jennifer's ass, with nary a drop spilling out. Just as Claire was about to pull out of her sister, Stacy spoke up.

"Wait!" she interjected. "Hold on!"

Stacy hoisted Jennifer up, so that she was impaled on Claire's dick as Claire stood up, Jennifer's pussy and cock on display.

"You got any more left in the tank?" Stacy asked. "I haven't gotten to plow a pussy yet, after all."

"Well, her ass is totally filled with my cum, but sure, I'll give it a shot," Claire replied.

"Y-you're both going to fuck me?" Jennifer asked, bewildered. "B-but...my ass is already full of cum! I've never been double penetrated before!"

"Gotta have your first time sometime, honey," Stacy replied, ramming her cock into Jennifer's cunt as the dickgirl screamed in ecstasy, Claire beginning again to hump Jennifer's ass, cum loudly sloshing out as Claire's monster cock worked itself in and out of Jennifer's tight ass.

"Holy fuck!" Stacy moaned. "Your pussy is so fucking tight! I'm already about to blow my load!"

"Me too!" Claire moaned. "Her hot ass filled with my own cum just feels too good!"

"I'm gonna cum too!" Jennifer exclaimed. "I'm gonna cum from my ass, pussy, and cock!"

"Let's all cum together!" Stacy screamed. "CUMMING!!!"

The three dickgirls screamed in ecstasy as they came simultaneously, Jennifer's asshole and pussy spasming like crazy as Claire and Stacy unleashed their massive fuckloads into both of her holes, Jennifer's own cock bucking as it shot wad after wad of thick cum, covering the three dickgirls as the all came again and again, a puddle of cum forming on the floor as Jennifer's overfilled pussy and ass leaked out Stacy and Claire's cum, respectively.

Their orgasms finally subsiding, the three dickgirls collapsed to the stall of the ruined bathroom, their cocks slowly deflating, having finally expended all of their cum. Stacy was the first to speak up.

"Wow," she breathed. "That was incredible."

"Yeah," Claire replied, equally breathless.

"Same time, same place tomorrow?" Stacy asked. Claire and Jennifer looked at each other, smiling from ear to ear.

"You're on," Jennifer replied with a grin on her face.



The Stall To My Right



There she is again. It seems like every time I head into the bathroom, she shows up right afterward. Her cube is right near there so I see her all the time. There's something about her that's different from all the other women who work here, but I can't pin it down. She's pretty -- espresso-colored hair, collar length, bangs across the front, dark lipstick on a somewhat wide, almost asymmetrical mouth, dark eyes, and a very long neck. But her clothes are so very conservative I'm not sure what to make of her. All I know is that I can almost count on her following me into the ladies' room.

She'll stand at the mirror and primp a bit until I go into a stall. She then takes the stall right next to mine. I'm still not sure what to make of it; we all have our favorite stalls after all, and she doesn't seem to do anything unusual. This time I decide to test her -- I choose a different stall. Sure enough, she once again takes the stall to the right of me.

We both sit, neither of us making any audible sound. I am too focused on her to pee. This stall is out of toilet paper, giving me the perfect opportunity: "Can you pass me some toilet paper? This one's out."

"That stall always seems to be out. Here you go." Long pretty fingers with immaculately painted and trimmed fingernails appear under the wall, with a delicately folded wad of tissue. I reach down and as she hands it to me, she touches my fingers and slides off of them as I pull away.

After flushing, I exit and she follows suit. we stand at the sinks, looking in the mirror. I steal a glance at her reflection as she adjusts her blouse, briefly revealing the lacy top of a beautiful -- and expensive-looking -- bra. I look up quickly and she is looking at me -- in the eye -- in the mirror reflection.

"I like your necklace. You always have the most interesting jewelry. I'm Catherine, by the way." Not taking her eyes off of my reflection. I turn to thank her directly and she looks at me for a moment, lipstick tube suspended in a graceful hand. She holds the moment for a little too long, and I feel heat rise from my neck into my cheeks. She smiles mysteriously, and returns to the mirror to reapply her lipstick.

My face is burning, and I hurry out.

I've decided to return, this time with another necklace I had with me. I look directly at her as I head into the bathroom. This time she doesn't even wait. When she comes in, I stammer that "I make these. Would you - like to try one on?"

She smiles with pleasure and with two elegant hands sweeps her hair up and out of the way, holding the pose and looking down at me. I fumble with the necklace and step forward. She is tall, and her expanse of throat is directly before me. To fasten the clasp, I must reach way around and I am keenly aware of the muscles in her throat, the pleasant smell of vanilla and... something else I cannot identify.

Again my face is burning and I step back. I am momentarily distracted by how beautiful my necklace looks on this woman, it sinuous chains draped delicately over pronounced clavicles.

"What do I owe you?" she is asking, admiring the necklace in the mirror. I begin to quote a price but surprise myself by telling her she can have it. She is looking at me so intently I'm starting to feel like her next meal. Blushing, I flee into a stall, the same one as before. She again takes the stall to the right of me.

I'm regaining my composure when her whispered voice shocks me: "It's still out, you know." It's startlingly close, as if she were leaning against the wall separating us. I stammer in agreement, leaning in close. While she is unreeling some tissue I steal a peek under the wall. I am startled to see lacy panties on the floor, hooked around one delicate left foot. Just one. By the angle of the foot, the knees are very far apart.

I realize my own knees are clenched tightly together, thighs flexing, and force myself to open them. When I do this I realize that I'm drenched. Her fingers have reappeared under the wall with several folds of tissue. When I take the tissue I am trembling. She is shaking too, though not in the same way. This time, instead of sliding away from my fingers, she holds them. Holds them! I am transfixed, leaning in close to the wall.

I hear shallow, hurried breaths on the other side, and the thrumming hand clenches mine more tightly, then relaxes. She is not letting go, and the hand still has that subtle shaking. By this time my left hand has found my sopping pussy and my fingers are gliding easily through the folds, pressing against the side of the hood surrounding my swelling clit. I hear a moan escape from dry lips but I'm too dizzy to know whose. My hand is now frantic, swirling around my clit, pressing against it, occasionally sliding down deeper and gathering juices, to quickly return to my white-hot clitoris. I feel her hand begin to clench mine again, and the wall separating us is now wobbling violently, and that is all I need to finish.

I am almost completely unable to control the sounds I'm making as my climax builds. I'm acutely aware that if someone were to come in now I would be unable to disguise my activities, which only makes the tension -- and the climax -- stronger. When it arrives, I find I am holding onto Catherine's hand for dear life, body sagging against the wall for support, barely able to remain on the toilet. She has stopped moving now and seems to be waiting for me to finish, allowing her knuckles to be crushed by the intensity of my orgasm, listening to my breath being sucked through my teeth in jagged, urgent rasps.

At last she pulls gently away, reassembles herself and leaves the stall. When my breath and balance return I emerge, but she is gone. I wash up carefully and creep guiltily out of the restroom. Catherine is in her cubicle, talking on the phone, all business but for her shoes kicked off under her desk, her toes slightly curled; I totter gratefully back to my desk.

I resolve to use the farther-away bathroom when I need to actually go to the bathroom. But when I pass her on the way to "our" bathroom, a long look or a finger dragged along the ledge outside her cubicle is quite enough to summon her into the stall at my right.

I find myself wondering just how long ago it was that she noticed I was left-handed.



The Stallion & The Mare



*** In The Apple Orchard ***

"Do you really think my brother can satisfy you?" Trenton stood at the bottom of the ladder, hands shoved in his pockets. 

Melody, startled, dropped the wicker basket she'd just begun to fill. "Oh, why must you do that every time?" Melody scolded as she descended. On the ground she scooped up apples in the same efficient manner she handled everything else. 

Her quick stabbing look at Trenton almost made him laugh. Up until recently he would have believed the house-mouse appearance she cultivated. But last week had resulted in his car breaking down by Old Mill Pond. Thinking to refresh himself Trenton had stumbled to the pond and onto a most unexpected scene: Melody stretching on top of the broad flat boulder in the middle of the pond. 

Only, he hadn't known it was Melody at the time. 

Trenton took shelter in the cats-tails and reeds. For the better part of an hour he watched the limber movements of the nude form moving from one position to another. His bewitched mind could focus on nothing but the byplay of shadows and light, color against the gray of the boulder and glassy black of the pond. In all the time of crouching there, He'd done nothing to relieve himself of the pressure gathered behind his fly

For an entire week he'd waited to get her alone. Now, he reasoned, he knew what eternity felt like. 

"Melody, Stop." Trenton caught her arm to hold her in place. 

She straightened slowly, bringing the armload of apples with her. Melody's hair fell from the bun at that moment. 

The curls bounced against the backs of his fingers. Trenton released her arm only tangle his fingers in the chestnut strands. Suddenly the quiet house mouse image she'd always brought to his mind changed to a sleek Mare. Whether she knew it or not he no longer saw her hair twisted up into a bun, reading glasses, the slate blue dresses and gum boots as warning signs of impending boredom. Instead he recognized these things for what they were: walls to keep others away from the deliciousness hiding beneath. 

At last he found his voice. "Why are you marrying my brother?" 

Her outraged gasp was the only warning he had to her flash-fire temper. Melody slapped his hand down, dropped the apples into the basket and - leaving it all - marched through the orchard in the direction of the farmhouse. 

"Everyone has asked me is why I'm marrying Derek." She snapped. "At breakfast, lunch and dinner I get this very same question." She spun about to face Trenton. "Don't you get it yet? - I don't want to marry him!" 

"Why go through with it, then?" Trenton asked, coming to a stop only a foot away. In the back of his mind he knew he was crowding her. Worse, Melody was at limit with him. She was going to bolt if he didn't handle this just right. 

"You are the worst of them." Melody planted her hands on her hips. "You're forever hounding me. Every time I turn around I find you on my heels. Tell me, why don't you want me married to Derrick?" 

"Because he doesn't love you." Trenton answered at once. 

Melody snorted. "Love has never been part of this equation." She folded her arms and studied him. "Are you going to challenge my father? Do you honestly think he'd give up all the money Derek is paying him?" 

"Should I challenge Derek for your hand?" Trenton wasn't about to tell her he'd been thinking just that. He shoved his hands back into his pockets. It was the only thing he could think of to keep from grabbing her. 

At once all the ire and anger drained from Melody. Her shoulders slumped and her head drooped. "Why would you want to challenge for me anyway?" She muttered. "I've not got anything you want." 

"Perhaps what you're thinking of is what Derek wants. My brother is a spoiled brat who has grown into a spoiled man. Why not think about what you want?" Trenton lifted a hand to caress her cheek, startled when she looked to bite him. He jerked his hand away. 

"I don't have any choice. Father's announced it already." Melody's step back was hesitant. Her gaze met his. 

Trenton hid a smile. Melody was skittish, her eyes looking at everything but him. Silently he dared her to run. Running would give him an opportunity to race after her. He could catch her and hold her and... He felt heat flood his loins. 

"I just want to be somewhere else." She took another step backward. Melody didn't truly start to worry until Trenton stepped over the basket. He was close again, crowding her out here in the wide-open orchard. 

"Women love Derek." Trenton studied Melody. Her breasts heaved with the combination of fear and excitement. Her nipples swelled against the confines of her sweater and formed prominent attention seeking points. For the second time in as many minutes he felt lust tighten his belly. 

He tried to push these thoughts from his head. It was impossible. "There's a barn. It's abandoned." Trenton spoke swiftly. 

*** The Race ***

"What?" Melody's mind felt scattered. She liked Trenton from the first time they'd met. He was the kind of man who held open doors for her or who would retrieve the canned beans from the top shelf just so she wouldn't go climbing on the rickety step stool. But until five minutes ago she'd not thought of him as anything other than Derek's older brother. 

She bit her bottom lip and studied him. Trenton's short-cropped curly black hair brought out the sharp green-blue of his eyes. His aristocratic nose and high cheekbones were the only parts of him so like Derek. Unlike Derek these features seemed to fit his face and personality. Trenton's full firm lips tilted up on one side as he spoke. His words were lost on Melody as her careful inspection traveled lower. Melody thought Trenton's solid chin and large shoulders spoke of confidence and the type of personality a girl could rely on to keep her safe. 

Safe? Awareness zipped down Melody's spine. She felt anything but safe with Trenton. 

Now, standing so close to him, she felt her heart pound and her hands go clammy. If she didn't know better she'd have sworn she was sick. 

"You're not making any sense." Melody moaned. The trembling in her fingers and wobbly knees belied her words. Everything in her head screamed for her to run! But she couldn't seem to move a muscle.

"For the first time, I'm making perfect sense. I'm going to take you to the barn and show you why you're not marrying Derek." She was going to bolt! Trenton shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. No way in Hades was he letting her get away! 

He'd no more than thought this when Melody shot off to his left. Trenton grinned, watching her sprint off. She was so spooked she ran not in the direction of the farm but toward the barn. 

Like a stallion, Trenton raced after her. 

Confusion, fear and heat wedged in the pit of Melody's stomach. She fought down the first two. These were emotions she dealt with on a daily basis. She leapt over a half rotted log and around a thick tree root. Any moment now she'd burst from the orchard into the fields behind the farmhouse. Someone would see her. Someone would come running, to find out why Melody had run from the orchard in panic. 

Even as she thought this Melody was aware of a niggling in the back of her mind. But too many things crowded her thoughts. The sensation in the pit of her belly was nothing she'd ever felt before. It weighted her down and slowed her reflexes. 

The sensation reminded her of what she'd felt yesterday on seeing the prize Mare and Stallion mate. The two horses spent days teasing each other, scenting the Mare's heat. Talk of their prolonged teasing was rampant at the dinner table until Derek's father put a stop to it. 

"But even you can admit that horses don't do things like this." Derek had said, ignoring the pointed looks from his father. "The wranglers think he's in love with her. They say that's the only reason a male horse would act so stupid." 

"I admit this is a bit unusual for to see such displays. But, son, it's not unheard of. Love is a byproduct of nature and nurture." Derek's father had speared Melody with a look that promised a long conversation soon. Thankfully Melody didn't have to hide the reality of this situation from him. This marriage was an arrangement between this man and her father. No doubt he'd thought love was going to form from this relationship. Hadn't Derek's father said as much when he'd first talked to her? 

Melody said little throughout dinner that night. She was reluctant to admit she'd watched the entire event from her bedroom window. Luckily, toward the end, nobody had thought to look up. Otherwise, they'd have caught her in a most embarrassing state of undress! 

Now, thoughts of the two horses made her want wild wanton things... Like turning around and launching herself at the man not far behind her. She wanted to tangle her fingers in Trenton's hair and kiss him and grind her..."No!" Melody shouted, putting on a burst of speed. 

She broke from the trees and stumbled to a stop. No farmhouse littered the other side of the meadow. In fact, the barn that rested there was so odd that - befuddled - she spun about at a loss to which direction she'd run in. In an attempt to regroup her directions she launched herself back toward the trees and bushes. 

But Trenton was much closer than she anticipated. He made no effort to slow down but caught her arm as he ran past. Melody whipped about behind him, half frenzied to get away. 

The barn door rested at a permanently open angle, weeds and vines having tied it in place long ago. Melody saw this in the moment she had before they were inside the old empty building. She knew this place! A starburst of panic gave her strength to fight against the man holding her arm in an iron grip. "Let me go!" She shouted, beating Trenton about the shoulders and chest with her free fist. 

*** A Basic Understanding ***

Trenton had his hand over her mouth before she could shout more. "I don't want to hurt you." He murmured against her temple and pulled her close. He seemed not to notice her blows. Instead he released her, his hands drifting down to cup her hips, easing her against the thick bulge in his pants. "We adults aren't supposed to know about the barn. This is a favorite spot for my nieces and nephews. They keep it clean and restock the hay in the loft on a regular basis." 

"Are you going to rape me?" Melody's panic subsided in the face of his calm talk. She stood stiff, arms straight down at her sides. 

"Not rape. Love." Trenton shifted and settled his palms over the twin globes of her bottom. 

Melody gasped.

Trenton noted she was back to not looking at him. Melody was his skittish Mare at a crossroads. She didn't know whether to fight or to give in. He relaxed, letting her put a mere half-inch of space between them. Trenton's hands still rested on her bottom and he caressed each firm round globe.

"Why?" Melody's gaze caught his. "Why me?" 

"A man could find himself at home in your body. Everything in the world would ease up. All the pain and sorrow...Derek's already cheating on you." Unsteadily his hands smoothed up her sides to curve over the warm fullness of each breast. "Strip for me." 

"N-no." Melody's shaky whisper was followed by a moan. Her head fell back even as she arched against his nimble fingers toying with the peaks of her nipples as they pressed through her blouse. Melody barely protested when Trenton's lips brushed against her mouth, then drifted down to settle on the soft valley between her breasts.

Heat expanded in Trenton. He barely remembered they were in the old barn together. Lost to him was the small possibility of a family member walking in on them. Nothing existed outside of the friction teasing his body against hers. He inhaled. The soft spicy scent of melody's skin teased his nostrils and roused his libido. 

Reluctantly Trenton began to raise his head. He wanted to kiss her wild, to have her beg his body into her. But Melody's fingers tangled in his hair, holding his head in place. Her fingers traced light patterns on his scalp even as she pressed her body to him. 

Trenton reluctantly eased his hands from the swells of her breasts. They drifted in lazy circles down to the waistband of her skirt. He unfastened the top buttons. The material slid down over her hips and pooled at her feet. 

Melody's belly contracted under his searching caress. 

Careful not to scrape her delicate skin with his calluses Trenton traced a path up under her blouse. For a moment his fingers spread out over her ribs, then contracted onto the front fastening of Melody's bra. To his delightful surprise it wasn't an impossible clasp to release. 

Melody felt heat shimmer in her belly. Trenton's breath warmed the skin above her heart. As if in response her breasts called attention to themselves, turning swollen and heavy. Everything in between her chest and belly quivered and waited for his next move. Even her lips tingled when Trenton slanted his mouth over hers for a moment. 

Had she truly thought he'd rape her? 

Underneath her blouse Trenton eased the cups of her bra aside. His warm palms settled over the bare skin of her breasts. She gasped at the exquisite sensations that burst from her nipples. And caught his hair between her fingers when his mouth - hot and moist - claimed one turgid nipple through the thin cloth of her blouse. 

"Help me." Trenton moaned, his mouth just above the morsel of pleasure he'd just suckled. It was as if Melody was merely waiting for him to ask. She released his head and almost tore her blouse apart in an attempt to get it open. The process seemed to take forever. Finally the last button slid through the hole and Trenton caught the edges, easing them apart. "Most beautiful." He whispered, lowering his head this time to a bared breast. 

Melody lacked the experience of lovers and it showed. Instead of playing it cool she caught at Trenton's free hand and brought it to her turgid nipple. "Yes!" She cried, arching as his fingers sought the crest of her nipple and gave it a gentle squeeze. In no time she felt as if every nerve was stretched to the point of breaking - waiting. Her knees trembled. 

The sudden invasion of Trenton's knee between her legs shattered the pleasure coursing through her body. A sob caught in her throat as his hands, once gentle and slow, hurried down to the band of her panties. The tension within her turned bittersweet. "Please..." She whimpered, thinking to beg off. Crude and fumbling his fingers pushed through the tangle of small curls to the nub at the juncture of her thighs. His caress was painfully sharp, uncomfortable. This wasn't how - a moment ago - she thought she'd welcome Trenton into her body. 

"What the hell?" Trenton snapped, lifting his head. "You're as dry as desert sand!"

*** In The Barn ***

Trenton regretted his words at once. The icy expression on Melody's face told him he'd lost her and all the pleasure he'd built up. 

Melody's eyes filled with tears. She blinked them away and studied the wood of the barn wall behind him. "Let's get this over with." She hated the resignation in her voice. Yet wasn't this how Derek liked it? 

Trenton released her at once and spun away. He pushed his hands through his hair. He must have done something that turned her off. Everything was fine until he pushed his leg in between hers... Slowly he faced her. 

"How does Derek like his sex Melody?" 

She paled, hands fluttering to protect her feminine assets. 

"Don't answer that." He snapped when she couldn't get the words out. Then, "Was he your first?" He swore at her mute nod. "The bastard raped you!" He thundered. 

Melody shivered. Even though the day was unseasonably warm she wished for the comfort of the skirt at her ankles. Surely Trenton wouldn't mind if she pulled it back up, just for a moment? 

"Leave it." Trenton ordered at her first tentative movement. He continued pacing, thinking through his actions. He was strung tight as a wire. Until the last Melody -sweet tasty Melody - was matching him pace per pace. She'd become lost so swiftly in the pleasure of simple loving that he'd lost his head. And now Melody was going to run. He could sense the anticipation of flight gathering in her. 

"Did Derek ever bring you out here?"

"Yes, the first time. It was at night. I didn't know this was the place he...we...until you pulled me inside." Melody mumbled her answer, carefully stepping from the skirt. If need be she'd grab it up and run past him. Once she was back in the orchard she'd find a hiding place and pull her skirt on. Then she'd take the long route back to the farmhouse. 

Trenton watched the uneasy flex of her body as she shifted. Melody was testing her legs and arms. She was planning. Damned if he'd go running through the orchard in this condition. 

He hid a grin as Melody caught up her skirt. He let her start past him, giving her a glimpse of freedom, before clamping his hand on her arm. Trenton pulled her back, jerking her body fully against his. "Did he undress you all the way? Or was it a quickie without your panties?" 

Melody felt hunted. "He...tore them off." 

"Where?" Trenton demanded. Hit bit back a curse when Melody pointed to the first stall by the barn door. His brother hadn't bothered to bring her a decent way into the barn. He hadn't bothered to undress her fully. And quite obviously hadn't bothered to learn what pleased her. 

It was like taking in a skittish horse after a bad owner. There was no telling how deep the abuse ran, or how long it would take to win her trust. There was nowhere to start but at the beginning without the bite of clothing harnessing her nature in place. 

"W-what?" Melody stumbled, certain she'd heard Trenton wrong. She clutched the wad of skirt to her chest like a shield. 

"Take it off." Trenton repeated. When she didn't move he eased the skirt from her grasp. "Give me your blouse." He caught one trembling hand and brought it to the edge of her blouse. "Slowly, now. I'm in no rush. It's only noon now. We've got a few hours." 

"Hours?" Melody gasped. Fear and heat rushed through her. Trenton, gentle like this, was heady. But this was different from his manner only a few minutes ago. He'd been pushy and uncaring of her...her needs! He rushed forward when she wasn't ready then became upset at this very same conclusion. Could she handle hours of Trenton's intentions if he turned from considering into rough and crude?

"Now your bra." Trenton ordered. He set the flimsy material on his shoulder just as he had her skirt and blouse. 

Melody kicked off the gum boots. The cool air of the barn gave her goosebumps and increased her uncertainty. She stood for a moment, hands at her side. Bitterly she thought that Trenton would want her completely naked. 

"No." Trenton caught her hands and pulled them from the waistband of her panties. "That's my job." Careful not to spook her he settled on his knees. He rested his forehead against the gentle curve of her belly and inhaled. 

Melody trembled. Trenton, it seemed, made a game of doing the opposite of what she expected. She curled her fingers in his thick hair. Melody made up her mind to pull his hair out if he tortured her 'down there'. Derek had done so once, drawing blood with his teeth and laughing about it when she screamed in shock. Since then she's never let him put his mouth anywhere near that sensitive area. 

But Trenton wasn't Derek. So far he'd confused her with his sensitivity. Not once had he tried to deliberately hurt her. Inwardly Melody struggled with how far to let Trenton go. Then, in a burst of trust she shifted, widening her stance. 

Trenton inhaled unsteadily. This was a good sign. This was his Mare letting him know she was still interested - If he could treat her right. He nuzzled the triangle of cloth at the juncture of her thighs. 




The Stallion & The Mare



Even though Melody's fingers had tangled in his hair she'd yet to move them as she had earlier. He took this as encouragement for she didn't pull him away, and warning for she wasn't actively stroking him. He released the breath he'd been holding, making sure it would fall against the softness of her nether-bits. 

"I'm going to take your panties off." He kept his tone reverent. Reaching around he slid his fingers under the waistband just above the curve of her bottom. With only his fingertips Trenton caressed this curve, savoring the gasp that drifted down from above him. His fingers traced small patterns over the curve of her bottom, traveling down to cupping the underside of her buttocks then down the backs of her thighs. Melody's panties caught on the back of his wrists and traveled down in the wake of his fingers. 

Melody released her trembling grip on his hair long enough to balance her hands on his shoulders and step free from the tiny scrap of cloth. 

"What is it you do?" Melody asked a moment later, shivering at another burst of air gently exploded against the soft skin between her legs. She was floating again, loosing herself in sensation. Goodness, the man hadn't attempted to touch her there a second time! Unconsciously she widened her stance. 

Trenton couldn't hide this grin. He'd love nothing more than to bury his face in the warm heat between her legs. But he was breaking her in, easing her to his touch. No good wrangler ever got anywhere by pushing his advantage the very first time it was offered. He got to his feet, her panties in hand. 

"Climb." Trenton softly commanded. 

*** The Loft ***

It took a long moment for his command to sink in. At first Melody couldn't fathom what he meant. It took Trenton to lead her to the ladder going to the loft of the barn before her mind kicked in again. "W-why?" She got out.

"Because the big window is open. We can see out over the orchard and enjoy the breezes coming through." For a moment he cupped her hip. "And I want you in full sunlight. I don't want anything hidden." 

"From you?" She challenged. 

Trenton placed a kiss on her forehead, the tip of her nose, her lips. "From you." He answered. "Climb." He commanded again. 

By necessity he'd ordered her up first. Melody was still skittish and could turn back to running any moment she desired. By sending her up first he'd guaranteed she'd not take off. But more cunning, he realized in retrospect, was that he got a most glorious view of Melody from below. 

Never before had he appreciating the firm globes of her bottom, the sway of her hips or the mystery deep between her thighs. He was unable to resist the temptation offered. Reaching up he brushed his fingers over the soft protective curls over her sex. 

"Don't! I don't want it!" She cried out, kicking awkwardly at his head. 

"You don't want what?" He demanded, catching her ankle and holding her in place. 

"I don't like being touched down there." Melody said, shaking inwardly at the lie and the truth of it. "It feels...wrong." She admitted after the near panic subsided. Trenton still held her ankle, but he'd tried nothing else. 

Trenton forced the tension from his body. He'd pick a fight with Derek later. Now was a private time with just the two of them. Melody needed humor and gentle handling. No doubt Derek's rough handling had left her with a bad view of what men enjoyed. Trenton needed to keep his package in check until she was ready for him. 

"I promise you this," Trenton released her ankle. It pleased him that Melody continued climbing. He'd worried for a moment that she'd try to kick at his head again. "There is a secret spot within a woman's body. The treasure of the world can be found in that spot. If you're patient with me I'll help you find it." 

Melody climbed over the last rung and stood a few feet from the ladder. The bullish expression on her face made it look as if she was a moment from stepping over and kicking the ladder from beneath him. 

Trenton slowed his ascent, watching her face in case the need came to jump. But Melody stood still, one hand covering the junction of her thighs and the other protectively placed over her breasts. 

He crossed the top of the ladder and stood before Melody's gloriously naked form. Absently he dropped her clothing from his shoulder. Bit by bit his clothing joined hers. An adorable red flush stained her cheeks. It heartened Trenton that she did not look away. 

Melody's eyes flickered as the last of his clothing joined the pile. Trenton recognized her need to mentally mark the spot. At once he knew if she startled, she'd grab the clothing and run. 

"We're equal now." Good. By aligning their status he'd bought a measure of hard won trust. He held his hand out to her. Melody stood for so long, waiting, that Trenton began to loose hope. 

She reached out and placed her hand in his. 

"May I kiss you?" He formally asked. 

Melody's shyness won. She gave a small nod and, docile, followed him to where a horse blanket over a small spread of hay added cushioning from the floor. It was clear not too long ago someone else had used this spot for loving purposes. 

Mentally Trenton made note to talk to his younger kinfolk. 

"You may kiss me, too. Love making is a shared experience." Trenton settled on the blanket and tugged her down next to him. He resisted the urge to pull her up against him. 

Melody needed time to adjust to him. Even on the blanket she was stiff. More, Her skittish Mare persona resurfaced. Melody's eyes danced over his skin, then away and back again. 

"Do you like how I look?" He puffed his chest out, aware that he was fishing for compliments. Then, she surprised him. 

"Does it hurt?" Reaching out melody touched the small male pap half hidden by his chest hair. 

Trenton inhaled sharply. "No. It is a sweet torture I love." Trenton answered. "Do it again." He eased his thoughts from the curls between her legs. Until a moment ago he'd never considered his nipples sensitive. Indeed, he'd always thought them useless. But if he didn't watch it she'd have him off with only a few light touches to his chest. 

Desperately he thought of baseball statistics. 

*** The Show ***

Melody felt a shocking heat build between her legs. "If not now, when?" She murmured as she leaned forward to place a tiny line of kisses across his lips. Her fingers never left his chest, teasing. She used the same gentle manner she preferred to be touched with. Suddenly, embarrassed she sat back. 

"What is it?" Trenton cupped her shoulder. "I'm not him. I can be trusted." Trenton encouraged. His arm trembled with the strength it took not to haul her up against him. He was about to demand she talk when Melody said, 

"My sister told me that women should enjoy themselves first."

"It is true that some men can only orgasm once in a while." He soothed, letting his fingers trail from her shoulder to the gentle slope of her breast. He traced the light color change between her skin and her nipple. "I like it here. This is where babes latch on for nourishment." So saying he leaned forward and sucked the nipple into his mouth. 

Melody was quick to push him away. Her gaze searched him, wary of his reaction to her rejection. "That's not what I meant." She got out at last. 

"Oh?" Trenton fought to keep himself in check. That he could speak was testimony to his control. Right when he'd suckled her into his mouth all thoughts fled him. He'd been nothing more than sensation. He'd become both a comforted infant again and a man hungry from lusting. "What do you mean?" 

"I meant this:" Melody smoothed her fingers over her neck, her arms, the sides of her breasts. By the time she came to supporting the weight of each globe her hands shook. "I...I didn't dare to try it until the other day." She whispered. Red faced she dropped her hands. 

"That was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." Trenton murmured. He waited for her to start up again, to finish herself off as self-experienced women are prone to do. Shock rippled through him when he realized she meant only to show him the little she had. "Do you enjoy that?" He fought to keep the desperation from his voice. His rod hardened at the thought of Melody on her back, her hands between her legs. Valiantly he fought the image away. 

He was beyond baseball stats now and concentrating on basketball. Or was it hockey? 

Melody was blessedly unaware of Trenton's growing condition. Or, rather, she was until her eyes settled on his lower body. At once she looked away. 

"A special event happens when a female is aroused." Trenton swallowed. "Her body readies itself to receive the male of her species. Within her a lubrication prepares the channel and some even comes out to coat the outer area..." He studied the dull red of her cheeks. "I see you've had biology." He murmured. 

"No, not exactly. Father wouldn't allow me. He got my high school to sign off on the course on religious purposes." She answered, swallowing hard. "But I've seen...I saw...a show once. I shouldn't have watched it."

"You couldn't look away, could you?" Trenton smoothed her chestnut hair back into place. "How did it make you feel?" He eased closer to Melody as he spoke. 

Melody shifted uneasy at the brush of his rod against her belly. "It wasn't like what Derek does with me. The male..." She ducked her head. "He was gentle. He waited until the female was ready. He even stopped when she...indicated she wasn't prepared." 

"Strong man." Trenton murmured. He was unable to keep a grin back. "I'm going to shock you." He warned, before curling her fingers in his. He pressed her palm to his chest. At the moment she relaxed, he pulled her hand down to rest on his belly just above his jutting staff. 

Melody, stiff by shock and fear, did not move for several minutes. Trenton rained kisses along the contours of her brow and cheeks, her chin and finally settled in soft brushes over her lips. Under this gentle onslaught her lips parted, granting him permission.

Trenton's foray was of gentle sweeping probes. He was acutely aware of her stiffness. He groaned when she pulled back, eyes searching his. 

"It wasn't a man." 

Melody's voice was so quiet at first Trenton thought he heard her wrong. "It wasn't a man?" He parroted. He lost all rational thought for a moment when - finally! - Her fingers slid down the remainder inch and rested trustingly on the base of his rod. After a moment she began tracing absent patterns. 

"No, it wasn't a man." Melody's eyes widened and she nibbled on her bottom lip. She shook her head in exaggerated movements. "But I locked my door and watched it all and..." Her gaze shifted to the part of his body she caressed. "I wanted to know what my sister meant." 

Heat rippled through Trenton's loins. He was mere moments away from exploding. Melody, he was certain, was trying to communicate with him. She was telling him something important. But his mind couldn't quite grasp anything beyond the tight coil of pressure building in his belly. Even baseball, basketball and hockey stats failed him. Desperately Trenton struggled to remember the rules to solitaire. 

"Are you..." He fought for a gentle word to use. "...wet?" He inquired. Inwardly he swore at Melody's hesitation. He was supposed to be the wrangler here, the one training her. And yet his body betrayed him, showing him to be a love starved fool. 

Melody licked her lips. "Earlier you said some men can only orgasm once." Her questioning eyes sought his. 

"It's a rumor I heard." He grinned. "Given the right encouragement a man can expand his repertoire to two or more times." 

"Are you encouraged?" Melody's quick look down his body was necessary. Her fingers smoothed to the tip of him in quick strokes. Here, too, she played out the pattern - but only for a moment before wrapping his hot end in the warmth of her palm. Gentle of his sensitive skin she gave a delicate squeeze to the purple throbbing tip. 

"Harder, love." Trenton groaned. He couldn't help the buck of his hips when she repeated the movement. "More!" Gurgled from his throat. Melody's fingers closed around the head of his rod in a slow vice like squeeze. Trenton caught her wrist, holding her hand in place as wave over wave of pleasure heat sent him higher, closer to the goal of - "Oh, Gods!" He shouted as his body convulsed in her hand. 

Melody studied his wilting member. Trenton was obviously not telling the truth when he said he'd last through more than one orgasm. Sadly she thought on the show she'd seen recently. There was a real male! Trenton's breathing slowed. No doubt, like Derek, he'd fallen straight asleep. Melody stood and began gathering up their clothing. She felt numb inside, not even disappointed. 

"What are you doing?" Trenton grumbled from the blanket. 

"Getting dressed." Melody answered. 

"Why?" Trenton forced both his eyes open. 

"Well, you're obviously not...um..." Helplessly she gestured at his wilted staff. 

Vigor - and a moment of fear - pumped him out of the sleepy state he'd settled. Trenton rose from the horse blanket. Already she'd gotten her blouse back on and struggled with the skirt. "Leave them." He ordered, reaching beneath the panel of the open blouse to cup the warm heat of her delectable breasts. "We're not done yet." 

*** What Melody Saw ***

"We're not?" Melody blinked at this assertion as he pushed her blouse off again. "What else is there to do?" 

"Ah...now here comes the fun part. You were right, by the way. By giving me a release first you've guaranteed I'll have staying power for your pleasure." Grinning he dropped a kiss on her shoulder. Gently he led her back to the blanket. Melody settled on her knees, one arm crossed over her breasts. At first this appeared a defensive gesture, but then some of the stiffness left her spine. 

Melody shifted. Her eyes went from his face to his semi stiff manhood to out the window. She sat for a long moment, enjoying the feel of his hand resting on her knee. 

"So what was he?" Trenton asked, breaking the silence. "In the show. If he wasn't a man, what was he?" Melody's furious blush intrigued him. It wasn't the same blush she'd presented before. No, this time it was an all over red that traveled down her chest and tightened her nipples into tiny points of excitement topping each globe. 

Trenton couldn't help himself. He mimicked her, rising to his knees and dropped a kiss on her lips. Then his head dipped lower. He took his time. His first tentative tastes were of the bottom curve of each globe. He soothed the valley and the outer edges. By the time he began nuzzling the textured areola she was making small jerking movements with her hips. 

"He was....he..." A moan broke from her throat the moment Trenton nursed a nipple deep into the warm cavern of his mouth. "He was a horse." This last word ended high and merged with a gasp. 

Between his legs Trenton's member stiffened. His brain, a minute or so later, finally comprehended what she'd revealed. He lifted his head from her lovely breast and engorged nipples to study the pleasure crossing her face. 

"You saw them?" He settled a hand on her hip. "You saw the Stallion and Mare?" 

"Y-yes." Melody admitted. Fear warred with desire. She licked her bottom lip. "And I tried...to copy them. But I couldn't -" She breathed in, stalling. "It takes two and I couldn't do what he did to her." 

"How much did you see?" Trenton asked gently. He smothered a grin when her eyes skittered away from him. 

"All of it." She whispered, shifting away from him. 

"I think not." Trenton let his grin out even as he caught her thigh. "You saw when he nuzzled her?" He studied Melody's abrupt nod. "And when she turned and invited him in by flicking her tail over his sex?" Melody's second nod brought his libido roaring to life. It wasn't that she was agreeing to what he said. It was that her hair - like the Mare's - danced along her shoulders and sides and back.

"I want to..." Melody licked her lips. "I want to try it again, but with you." This last part ended low. Slowly she lifted his hand, pushed it from her leg. "I want to have what the lady horse got." 

"Ah...." Trenton fought to understand. The lovemaking between the Stallion and Mare had embarrassed him on a personal level. To Trenton it had felt like eaves dropping on his parents. He'd left partway through. But his base nature surfaced and he returned minutes later to finish watching. "Can you show me what you mean?" 

Melody nodded, mute. 

"All right. I think we're ready." Trenton settled on his side on the blanket. He propped his head in his hand and fought his mind to stay focused on the moment. It would be too easy to mentally skip ahead and plan every step of pleasure. "I'm watching." Melody sat still for so long he thought she'd lost her nerve. 

Then, with her eyes closed, she traced a brief pattern up her thighs. She repeated the pattern several times until little by little her legs came open. With her thumb and forefinger she pinched at the insides of her thighs. Using this method she forced her legs to open wider. 

Trenton's mouth fell open. Melody hadn't merely watched the Stallion seduce the Mare. She'd memorized his moves! 

Melody twisted about then, to rest on her hands and knees. In this position she presented Trenton with an unaltered view of her bottom and swelling nether-bits. Then, with only one hand braced on the floor, she reached back to flick at the lips of her sex. 

Trenton recognized her finger movement's as the same flicking motion the Stallion used when he tongued the Mare. 

"What's wrong?" He asked when Melody stopped abruptly. 

*** It Takes Two ***

"I- I can't do the rest. It takes two." Melody admitted. 

"You don't say?" Trenton mused. He hadn't lost sight of the fact that Melody had yet to change her position. Grinning, he flicked his finger across her super sensitive swollen nether bits. It was his turn to pretend his fingers were the Stallion's tongue. 

Melody shocked him again when she moaned and wiggled her behind. She'd taken the position of the Mare. "No, no." She cried when Trenton danced his fingers across her flesh again. 

"What then?" Trenton asked. He was loath to be distracted by her fantasy. This was especially true now as she was no longer Sahara dry. The Colorado River was more like it. He scooped up a runnel of her liquid heat as it trailed down the inside of her leg. It was no great thought to suck the spicy liquid from his fingertip. 

"The male used his...mouth." She said at last. 

Trenton grinned. He ran the conversation through his mind, checking it again. "You want me to taste you like the Stallion tasted the Mare?" He asked, making absolutely sure. 

"He just licked her a bit." Melody's voice quavered. "He didn't bite her or anything." 

Trenton had his mouth on her sex before she'd finished speaking. He groaned at her sweet taste. Eagerly he sought out the plump nub with his tongue, teasing the tip and sides. Melody swayed forward and back, controlling the frequency of his touch against her most sensitive nerve endings. 

"What did the Stallion do next?" Trenton asked although he already knew. He'd been present for this part. "Tell me what to do." 

"He got up behind her and inched up her back..." Melody's voice trailed off. Trenton followed the events of the story as if she were giving instructions. "And his...huge thing pushed at her opening." 

"Like this." Trenton agreed, fighting to keep in place. 

The next move - whether he liked it or not - was Melody's. 

"Yes!" Melody breathed. "And the female she did this..." Melody shook her rear at him as she eased back onto Trenton's pole. Although Melody's body twisted beneath him, around him, her progress was as slow as the Mare's had been. 




The Stallion & The Mare



Trenton groaned when he felt Melody's swollen sex brush his balls. His eyes drifted shut. Mentally he reviewed the events. The Stallion and Mare had stood for several minutes without moving. Then, finally taking control, the Stallion nipped the Mare on her mane and bucked into her. 

The Mare, also excited, bucked back.

Trenton bent forward and nipped Melody on the nape of her neck. Her responding - all natural - reaction of pushing back onto him and forcing him deeper into her body made his manhood throb with impending eruption. He was acutely aware of Melody's slick heat around his staff. 

"What's wrong?" He asked when Melody froze. She'd yet to orgasm around him and he- being the Stallion, was waiting for that to happen in order to release his seed. 

"I can't...can't..." Melody whispered. She shook her head, sobbing. "What's wrong with me?" 

"Nothing, nothing at all." Trenton soothed, pressing kisses to her shoulders and spine. "We're missing something, that's all. Take me through it again." 

"No..." Melody moaned, rocking slightly. 

"Melody..." Trenton nuzzled her ear, much as the Stallion had on his second round with the Mare. "You said you were copying them? Where were your hands when he mounted her?" 

"Oh!" Melody gasped. 

Trenton bit back an oath, startled as he was at the speed of which her body clamped around his. She held him so tight within her slick channel that he couldn't move forwards or backward. 

Beneath him Melody reached beneath her and back. "Please, don't move. This is so...new." She whispered as her fingers traced where their bodies joined. She cupped him lower, cradling his heavy ball sacks in her hand. These she urged forward, pressing the swollen spheres against the plump nub at the juncture of her thighs. 

Trenton's balls slid from her hand and she arched beneath him, sliding the vice of her body up higher on his throbbing shaft. 

"Let me." Trenton urged, sliding his finger along side hers. At first he thought she merely pressed a nail to her swollen button. After a moment he realized she touched herself with the softest, smallest movement. "Hold on..." He whispered, keeping her pace. She was no longer bucking, but pressing steadily back against him as if his body had much more to give. 

Trenton nuzzled a path through her hair and bit - gently - the back of her skull. 

Melody felt heat explode deep in her belly. 

Dimly she was aware of a high keening noise. But she was unfocused on anything outside the splendid waves of sensation rippling through her lower belly. She was aware of the soft abrasions of Trenton's body within her own. 

The heat of him grew, expanded and made the fit of the snug channel around him fit even tighter. Movement was impossible when the big throbbing head of him wedged deep within her.

Melody gasped as a fresh wave of pleasure coursed through her belly. Trenton's hard parts were pushing her soft nether-bits aside. The sensation coupled with his depth was more than she could handle. She exploded a second time, silently pleased when Trenton gave a shout and followed suit. 

Later, as they were dressing in the setting sunlight flowing in through the barn window Trenton caught her arm much as he had in the orchard. "You can't marry him, Melody. Break it off." 

"Why?" Melody questioned, eyes searching his. 

"You know why." Trenton answered, releasing her to finish dressing. "I'll talk to your father in the morning."



The Stand-In



She liked him. She was here because she liked him. She wanted to feel the rush of sweet desire once again, let it fill her up, lay her down, and be consumed. The soulful sound of a sax played in the background. The lighting was dim. She looked around and wondered at the others. Were they looking for their star-crossed lovers? She'd been approached to dance. One fellow sent her a drink, she declined. She was not looking for just anyone, but the one. So lost in her own thoughts, she missed his entry, his standing in the doorway while he scanned, looking, looking for her. When the chair across from her was pulled away, there was no sound, only the movement. Startled she looked up. Her eyes followed him as he sat across from her. Her heart thundered in her chest. Her breath caught, she felt the adrenaline sluice into her veins. Her hand pressed low on her abdomen. As in the years before, she felt the hunger. It was immediate, without hesitation. She smiled. 

"Hello Don," she said. 

"Hello, sweet lady."

Don motioned to the bartender, pointed to Lyn's drink and held up two fingers. Once served, they each sipped their drinks. They had not yet touched. They had said nothing beyond their hellos. Each drank in the reality of the other. He extended his hand out to her. She reached to take it in her own as he moved from across the table to take her in his arms. 

"Let's dance." 

Hand in hand, they walked to the dance floor. Kenny G's soulful "Summer Time" filled the air. He pulled her close and breathed her in. 

"Lyn," he whispered. 

The music brought them together like puzzle pieces interlocking. She laid her head on his shoulder, kissed his neck, as he placed his hands on her ass and pulled her in close. There was no mistaking his rising desire. She knew he would not make the first move, he never did. This time was no different. He would wait for her.

She stopped in mid-dance, looked into his eyes, then turned and his hand in hers she led him off the dance floor. They left the hotel hospitality room, and standing in the bright lights before the bank of elevators they kissed, gently, tenderly, unhurriedly. He did not ask her, and she did not offer the words of consent. They both knew why they were here, what they wanted. No mystery. It had been that way between from that very first time. 

During the elevator ride up, he sheltered her in his arms and she accepted. When the elevator door opened, she took him by surprise with her quick exit. On entering into the hall of doors, she bent down and took off her heels. Shoes in hand, she turned to look up at him. She grinned. Then left in a sprint calling back to him, "First one to the door, gets to strip the other." She laughed at his puzzled look; she knew she was not playing fair. He had no idea which door to get to first. Then laughing out loud, he followed staying just far enough behind to give her time to swipe the keycard.

On entering the room, his hand snaked out and grasped her arm. He pulled her into his chest as he stepped forward and kicked the door shut with his foot. He backed her into the wall and pressed his full length into her and kissed her hard. It was like rain in the desert. 

"We're not going to make it to the bed if we're not careful," he said. 

"Then by all means, let's be careful," she said. His embrace relaxed, and hand-in- hand, she led him to the foot of the bed. 

"I think I won," she said. 

"Right, and you certainly played fair."

She kissed him and slowly removed his jacket. Her hands shaking just a bit, she unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it free of his trousers. Her hands were drawn like magnets to touch his chest, to let her fingers play in those silky curls of hair. She bowed her head to kiss his chest in tender little butterfly kisses. She nibbled on his nipples as she let her hand fall to his swollen cock still trapped behind his clothes. Her tongue slowly traced upward from his nipple, to his neck, and then dipped between his lips. Her hand pressed and squeezed his cock as her tongue played with his. Her nipples tingled, she ached, her blood felt like liquid fire. Her every nerve wanted him. She unbuckled his belt, unclasped the clap of his pants, unzipped the zip; she stuck her thumbs in the sides of his slacks under the band of his underwear and in one smooth move had him exposed. His clothing was on the floor waiting for him to step free. She took a step back just to look at him. She licked her lips. God he was gorgeous. She did that end run with her tongue that he likes, and let her wet tongue travel the length of his face from under his chin across his lips over his nose, his eyes to the top of his head. Oh god, she wanted him to fuck her right now, just push her back, lift her skirt, and enter. She was hungry, hungry, hungry. 

"Don, I don't know if I can wait. I want you inside." 

"I know, babe, I know." 

There was no slow removal of her clothes. No petting, no planting of wet kisses any and everywhere. They had wanted and waited too long. Her wish from just the moment before was granted. He pushed her skirt up around her hips. He smiled at just the garter belt, no panties. When he slid his finger into her slit, he knew he could take her, no foreplay, just go for the gold ring. He pushed her back, she spread her legs wide. He slid in. She flexed her vaginal muscles and tightly sheathed his cock. She wrapped her legs around him and their bodies set the rhythm, hot friction, his cock sliding in and out, her vaginal walls grasping and letting go. Her, "Oh, god yes, just fuck me" was met with his guttural growls of pleasure the deeper and faster he took her. Their timing was superb. Her hips arched, her vagina contracted mercilessly milking his seed. Their bodies spasmed together. He fucked her deeper, then deeper as she pushed up against him greedily accepting everything he gave her. The climax radiated through them in a single all-encompassing shudder. With one last thrust, they were spent and momentarily satisfied.

Uncoupling, he grabbed a pillow and placed it under his head. He pulled her into his arms, her head on his chest, her thigh lying across his, her hand touching him, coming to rest on his belly, her fingers swirling the little hairs. She looked up at him and smiled. 

"I suppose, we should have talked more."

"We did fine," Don said.

Lyn smiled, "Yes we did."

She sat up. I want to look.

Her eyes traveled all along his body, then she let her hands follow her eyes. She touched and kissed him his entire length. She wanted to stir him up, get him hard and ready to spill for her again. She wanted to pleasure and be pleasured more.

She leaned down, her face hovering over his wet cock, saw the ejaculate drying. She kissed his belly, down to where his cock emanated from his groin. She tongued his cock, licking him clean. He groaned. 

"Feels good, does it?"

She positioned herself face to cock, tits to belly, pelvis to chest. Her hands pressed against his inner thighs and he spread them. She gently lifted his scrotum, lapped her tongue over its entire surface. She mouthed each testicle as she felt his tongue tickle her clit. She squirmed. He held her thighs tight as he dipped his tongue in and out of her pleasure hole. She groaned and hungrily sought the head of his cock, sucking it into her mouth. She pressed it against the roof of her mouth, sucking in the same rhythm as his tongue slipping in and out of her pussy. As his cock got harder, she squeezed his balls, and took his cock into her mouth for its length. He was noisily feasting on her pussy, pushing his tongue in deep, his entire mouth taking in the soft pink lips, her clit. She loved the greedy sounds he was making. She wrapped her arms around his trunk so her hands could slid to the inside of this thighs and cradle his balls. Her head was rhythmically moving up and down as her mouth fully sheathed his cock, the head of it slamming into the back of her throat with every stroke. He was pushing his face into her cunt while pulling her hips into his face. With each push she felt his cock against the back of her throat. He was slurping and moaning as her sex juice gushed. Her fingers strayed to his anus. Gently she stroked. When he did not object, she unmouthed his cock so she could slicken her fingers. Again she sheathed him, deep throated him as she reached around his thigh and inserted her finger into his anus. He jerked and spasmed fucking her mouth, his salty nectar shooting into her throat. Groaning, his mouth, lips, teeth and tongue gorged on her pussy hungrily sucking her, tongue lapping taking her from one orgasm spiraling into the next until exhausted their bodies stilled, their faces buried in the others genitals. Then he tongued her again to see if she could take more. She sighed, she kissed his flaccid cock. She knew she would not be able to get him to such height again so soon, and selfishly, she settled in and would let him eat her until he had his fill or she could bear no more.

The clock on the nightstand told me I had slept for only thirty five minutes. Still on my back with my head on a pillow, I remembered that had been my posture when I had fallen asleep. But my view had changed. The one I remembered was Lyn's spread legs around me and her pivot within my tongue's reach, my hands locked on her ass and my thumbs below each cheek as I spread her to taste. Gone was the weight of her torso on mine. Her taste remained when I licked my lips, but she had somehow extricated herself from my feasting embrace to once again lay curled to me. Head on my chest and her thigh draped over mine, her hand rested at my root. Rest, remembrance, restoration. I felt my tree wakening to spring.

Fast asleep as she was, I remained still so as not to disturb the rest she would need. I chose, instead, to admire the woman who had now invited me for eight consecutive years. Lyn's hair was still thick. Its color had changed since our first time together, but it flattered her still-youthful features. Her back retained the lines of a young woman's back. The crease of her spine reflected the twist of her shoulders and her hips racked across me. The leg between mine showed the shapeliness of regular walking that would pop her calves and thighs when she wore her heels at the banquet. Her feet matched her hands, small but with a perfect grip for me.

As I assessed her body, I thought about the complexity of her personality. In the earliest year, we had been slower as we learned each other. The scattered clothing tonight strewn on the floor had back-then been scatterings on the bed as we came to understand our ardor and forget our carefulness with one another with each passing year. In the ones that followed, we pushed farther and finally came to know that there were no out-of-bounds to our lovemaking. Lyn could be the aggressor or the submissive personality—as could I. There had been occasions on which, like tonight, her intentions were clear and her lead had been strong. But there also been those years when she was a flirt and teased me to take her in any way or manner that I wished. But always we both managed to play both roles. Never-the-less, every single year we had found ourselves where we were now—together as familiar, though only annual, lovers. These reflections and reminiscences were all my member had needed.

Carefully slipping her sleeping hand to my cock, I whispered her name keeping the last letter stringing-out in a question.

"Lynnnn?"

"Don," she replied softly with sweet kindness. Her hand closed to test my hardness.

"Donald!" was her coy, approving response.

"My turn to lead. Remember, you cut short the dance."

"You're right," she giggled. "But did I follow your lead closely enough?"

"Oh, yes. I seem to recall something wiggling on my neck...remember it so well, in fact, that I'm sure my hands were on that delicious butt of yours when you broke away for that silly run-away game of yours in the hallway."

"Then you didn't like my version of hide-and-seek. I'm so sorry'" mocked the game's winner.

"Never felt better to lose a match," I mocked back. "But I have a game of my own in which there will be no losers. Roll over onto your tummy, Lyn. I need to put my hands back on that lovely ass of yours to resume my lead in this dance of ours."

She presented it immediately with a little shake once she was positioned.

"Take the other pillow for your head and get comfortable. You'll be there for a while. I'll adjust your hair." I puffed it away from the pillow to minimize her pinning it when her head began moving as I knew it soon would. I moved behind her taking a gentle hold on her left leg to create more space between her thighs.

"I like this game already," she replied, the anticipation beginning to creep into her voice.

"My Dear, we're still on the practice green." Taking the pillow I had napped on, I folded it on its long edge and moved it toward her pressed belly. "Lift just a bit while I slide this under your abdomen. I need you raised just a little to play."

"Yes, Donald. Now I know I'm going to love this game of yours. What should I do next?"

"Absolutely nothing. I lead. You follow, Lyn. You just follow."

Remaining on my knees behind her, I placed one hand under her right thigh and the other hand around her right ankle. I lifted Lyn's leg slightly and spread it outward; I repeated it for her left leg but more slowly. Then I moved farther up the bed, still on my knees. I used them gently, pressing against her thighs to push those beautiful pins farther apart until there was a slight break at her knees allowing her to spread still wider.

"I love the feeling, Don. I suppose your game doesn't require that I move much. Promise me that?" Lyn's voice had become lower.

"You have my word. Now some attention from the waist up." The repartee was becoming a distraction. The view of her positioned so openly demanded my serious attention.

I placed my hands on the bed close by her sides so my thumbs brushed against her breasts that pushed against the mattress. Supported on four points, I lowered myself toward her. I didn't want her to feel my full weight-not yet- so I led with my tongue only, sliding it along the crack of her ass. Up one side to the accented curve of her back bolstered by the pillow, my tongue lazed. When there was no more valley for it, I raised my head to move back down to her anus, and make the slow trip back up the other side. With the start of each upward stroke, I allowed my tongue to linger so its tip could swirl her dimple or probe it gently. Some of the strokes originated with the opening to her pussy. There my tongue played the same teasing games, enjoying the sweet distance between her two openings. Regardless of where I took my taste, each such acquaintance brought a slight quiver of Lyn's cheeks I could feel against my own. Each also brought a prolonged but quiet, "Oh," drifting down from her parted lips to my ears folded against her thighs.

Satisfied that I had lubricated her for my own comfort, I moved farther up her back with my mouth kissing softly along my way. When my hardness against her deterred my progress, I reached down and raised it to follow the groove I had just soaked so thoroughly. Continuing up her back, I made my way toward her neck while I rolled my hips so Lyn could feel my size and stiffness within her crack as she had earlier pressed me downstairs on the dance floor to test it between her hips.

"I so enjoy dancing with you, Lyn." No words from her now, but I knew she appreciated a strong lead.

Quieting my hips, I lowered my chest to her back. I began softly, brushing my hairs against the smoothness of her back. With each movement, I transferred more of my body weight to her. Very quickly, she found herself pushed into the mattress as I ground into her. With my body more extended now I applied the weight of my thighs to the back of hers. With most of my weight now on her as my pillow, my hands were available to slip under her to take her breasts full into my hands, squeeze them firmly, and push them into her. I resumed the movement of my hips to press my erection into its slot.

"My version of the 'bump-and-grind,' Lyn. Here's the bump," and I pushed my cock into the crack of her ass. "And here's the grind," and I pressed my chest down and my hands up.

The groaned response was a combination of stress and desire. "Again. Do it again, Don. Both at once."

I used my mouth, with help from my tongue and teeth, to work through her hair and see Lyn's smile peeking through. Her eyes were closed, lips still parted. She looked content and comfortable in spite of her load. Before I resumed, I bit lightly on the muscle stretching from her neck across the top of her shoulder tasting her hair as I held my bite and resumed my movements.

Beginning the pressure with which I had paused, I increased it as my fingers explored and tightened. I increased the grip of my teeth. Then began the constant sounds of her pleasure—no words but only primal sounds signifying "Yes/no. More/less. Pleasure/discomfort. Please/thank you." Feeling her struggling head as her hair pulled through my teeth, I reduced all my grips on her but remained as her cover.

"That song just ended, Lyn. But there is another beginning very soon. Would you like me to adjust my lead slightly and dance another one with you?"

"God, yes!" she blurted. "Another. I am so ready."

Reaching under the pillow, I found her hands, entwined my fingers in hers, and spread her arms up and away from the edges of the pillow. This brought my head close to hers, so I whispered, "Stay as you are. Do not move. I want to make an adjustment."

Her hand did not move as I reached for myself. I was aware of the dampness on her and the sheet as I moved my erection directly between her legs. Instead of it pressing between her ass and my own belly as it had been, the tension of its stiffness covered the distance between her anus and her slit. Raised by the pillow beneath her, my motion upward would reach her lips. I returned my hand as a cover to hers waiting for it to return, pressed my forearms to hers, returned my weight and began my teasing. The farther I pushed, the farther up her slit I traveled. Whenever I shortened my stroke against her, I felt her trying to open to encourage me. Whenever, I was fully away from her, the hardness of the top of my tip assailed all the nerves between her entry points. Her wetness came quickly; my sliding became easier and allowed me to quicken my pace. Again, her sounds came from her deep place.

Words formed between her gasps. "Don't stop! Please, don't stop. Don't...stop!"

"I will not. Cum when you must."

My probing sensed resistance at her clit. Each time I brushed it, it felt larger as it emerged for me. Treating it gently, I felt her free her fingers of mine to lock down on the bedding. The tensing of her forearms and shoulders was transmitting through me. Her muscle strength was moving downward as I continued against only her clit when her moisture began now to flow. With the weight of my torso against her sweating body, her hips, somehow, pushed both of us up as she surrendered to herself. Shoving herself deep into the mattress and moaning softly, her hips rebounded for a second thrust and a much louder and longer moan. Then came the third with a stream of expletives. This time I stayed attached to her. Having expended so much of her energy, I was able to keep her down although she squirmed against the cock that had not yet been inside her.

"My, God. Oh, my God. That was wonderful, Don." Her body began to ease; her smile was back. Her pinned, involuntary squirming was replaced with an intended wiggle.

Still against her throat and wrapped in her hair, I whispered. "Shall we make the next one a "Ladies' Choice" or should I just fuck you right now?"




The Stand-In



"Hmmmm? Let me think on that?"

"Need some help with the answer?" and I reached for myself to tap at her Y. "My, Lord! Already? Is the bad girl getting wet?"

"I think so." She was playing with her voice and I loved it.

"If you're not sure, would you like me to make you very wet, bad girl?"

"Yes."

"Be yourself, bad girl. I know you speak in complete sentences."

"Yes, please. Make me wet."

"I'd love to do that. I'll move so you can turn over for me."

I slid my legs, slowly across and over her thighs one-at-a-time and up her sides until my knees were just below her armpits, and I straightened my body over her.

"Turn over."

"I don't have room!" she said with urgency.

"You do if you squirm," was my simple reply. "I hope you like the view."

I could feel her begin to turn herself. The pressure of her shoulders tingled against my thighs. When her face began to appear, she saw me straddled over her, my full erection waiting. She smiled and I watched the bad girl trying to decide: Do I take him deep in my mouth right now, or do I push him down to my cunt to make me wet with his mouth and mix with my own juices?

Once I had managed to wiggle and squirm my way onto my back, my mind replayed a part of the foodie show that had been on as background noise as I had dressed earlier. The chef's words, "It's all about presentation," ran through my mind as I gazed up at his meaty member. I licked my lips and thought, "Indeed," as I gave him a wicked smile.

Snared between his thighs, his hard knees buttressed against my armpits, I laid my head back on the pillow and watched his face as I ran my hands the length of his inner thighs, and when my hands converged at the base of his scrotum I could see his deep breathed inhalation. "Ladies Choice" was no choice at all with all of that maleness draped in my face like grapes on the vine. I wanted the full fuck of course, but the greedy me wanted the appetizer too. We had plenty of time before the banquet, and there was tomorrow.

Like a found treasure I cradled his scrotum in my hands and my thumbs traced the shape of each testicle. I raised my head and my tongue tip began to trace the veins that ran in distended rivulets all along his shaft. I needed my head to be higher off the bed. My neck muscles were not adequate to the task at hand. I stopped my tongue's travels to give voice to a request.

"Don, sweetie, raise my head a little higher please."

He smiled. 

"I applaud your choice," and he adjusted the pillow underneath my head.

I looked him in the eyes and my eyebrow arched in amusement at his 'Lord of the Manner' tone. I used my left hand like a rudder to steer his maleness toward my mouth. I tasted him before I tasted him and my mouth watered in anticipation. I closed in and guided the tip of my tongue in feathered strokes of wetness across the surface of the little mind's helmet, circling the corona, beginning and ending at its cleft. I used my teeth to nip all along the coronal ridge. I felt his body shudder. I watched his facial changes as my fingers played upon his silky sac, finding and tracing the outline of the oblong pebbly protuberances. I applied a bit of pressure to each with my thumb as I cradled his scrotum in the palm of my hand. 

I took his penis between the fingers and thumb of my unbusy hand and admired the scarlet red of my nail tips against the white flesh of his cock. Having satisfied some of my tactile and visual needs, I levered his magnificence into my mouth again and paid homage with my tongue in long flat-tongued strokes on the descent closing my lips in a tight tight "O" and employing my suck reflex on the ascent. The repetition of my ministrations was causing tiredness of my neck muscles, and even with pushing a little further toward his root each time my progress was being hindered by my fatigue. I wanted, no I needed, my mouth to be his vessel of pleasure to nurture my desired moments of submissive surrender.

I was caught up in my primal appetites and in a husky voice, I asked "Is the bad, bad, boy in the room, Don?"

"He certainly can be. Is that what you want?"

"Yes."

"Well as before, speak in a complete sentence, please."

"My bad girl needs a visit from her bad, bad boy."

I shuddered. 

I could tell he knew what I wanted, and on some plane I suspected given his foreknowledge of me he knew my desire even before I did and had arranged for it to be so.

"I want some rough, some pain. I want you to purge in my throat when I ready you. I want you to uncage the animal. I paused and coyly smiled, "Are my sentences complete enough, doll?"

My nipples hard beads, my cunt pooling, my clit in spontaneous spasm in anticipation of the next few minutes flooded my nerve endings with erotic zings and zaps.

I took his phallus into my mouth again and as before I was not able to reach the base where it grows from his pelvis. I pulled my mouth in another tight "O" and drew back in a long suck up the shaft to the tip. I pressed the cap into the roof of my mouth with the flat of my tongue and sucked pushing my tongue back and forth in a quick seamless motion, then as I released suction my lips fed your length into my pleasure cavern as far as my neck muscles allowed. Saltiness assailed my tongue from the tears of precum signaling my assault's effectiveness. I groaned my pleasure and continued my ministrations, but again my neck was tiring. 

Don bunched the pillow up further aiding the elevation of my head further and taking some stress from my neck, but then his hands laid hold of my head, bits of my hair were trapped in the fingers that gripped me tightly. Here was my bad, bad boy to the rescue. His cock came alive and brought itself slamming into the back of my throat. His hips thrust him in deep, as his hands supported my head allowing my mouth its performance as scabbard to sword, his hands forcing the sheathing and unsheathing hard and quick. I struggled to reach myself. His position made the length of my arm come up short. I twisted my upper torso frustrated and he shifted the position of his knee to the outside of my struggling arm. My fingers dipped into my center, into the wet pool, then traced a path to my burgeoning orchid. Pleasure and its counterpart, pain, melded together and I was taken to Elysium as his ejaculate ran down my throat and coated my mouth with its saltiness. I was drunk on his seed. When he was done, he gently smoothed my hair against the pillow and took note of the white milky display of his power threaded on my lips. He took my mouth in a tender kiss only to leave there and roughly bite my shoulder once more. His body now lay its weight against my torso, his legs between mine. This had been a new edginess, a new path for us both. I brought my legs over his and tucked my heels on the inside of his thighs and we slept.

Waking a short time later, his body still a cover to mine, I wriggled against him.

"What, want more?"

I laughed, "Always, but not now. You have to leave and get dressed. We have the banquet in just over an hour."

"We could skip it."

"It's why we're here."

"Is It?"

"Among other things."

I gave him a quick kiss and a shove. He climbed off me, then bent from the side of the bed and his hand covered mine as I fingered the places on my shoulder where he had bitten me. He started to say something. I placed a finger to his lips.

"Shh. It's unnecessary" and I drew in a deep breath of satisfaction.

He winked and stood erect. It was habit now how we crossed these bridges of the unknown. It was why we kept coming back. It was why there was trust in our lustful play.

While dressing getting ready to go to his own room, Don chatted about the evening's affair. He quizzed me on the time of my arrival. He said he wanted to get there early so if a change in our seating was necessary, he could take care of it without calling attention to us. He said he would meet me there, glass of wine in hand, and then he was gone.

From that moment eight years ago, when my hand had first touched his and the electric surge had robbed me of breath, I'd been his willing accomplice in this annual sexual adventure. For all of his confidence and take charge abilities, he would not have made the first move, but when I made the move on him, he willingly engaged. 

Our early ground rules after our first encounter were still the same now. We had kept them. The Lyn and Don we knew were the ones that existed at this annual event. The ones that lived in our bodies the rest the year were strangers. I knew that he was married as he knew I was, our rings were brands that never left our fingers. We chose to leave the gold tethers but did not allow these outsiders in our world. I thought to Google him once and then decided against it because knowing Don from that outside place would break the rules. Besides there was nothing I wanted to know or needed to know for which I was willing to forfeit the Don that belonged to me.

As I dressed, in my mind's eye I could see him, how he used my body for his pleasure, how he gave my body its due. I had played slut to his pimp, Cleopatra to his Anthony, slave to his master, Amazon to his slave. We were willing to venture into the gray if not the dark to feed the spirit of pleasure. He was my aphrodisiac, my spear for impalement for deliverance upon the altar of pleasure. Quieting my thoughts, I finished my makeup, patted the last stray hairs in place. I did one of those hip swings a model does which allowed my skirt slit to reveal the long silk-covered gam beneath. The dress was cardinal red, body hugging bodice, almost pencil skirt with that strategic slit. It invited and held at bay at the same time. I stepped into my heels, red three-inch lethal weapons, did a 360, then back kicked my right leg and winked at the woman in the mirror. 

When I arrived at the entrance of the banquet room, Don was standing across from me, sipping wine. On seeing me, I could see the appreciation in his eyes. I did a little pivot shift which showed my leg's muscled beauty through the peep show curtain of my dress. He smiled, and shook his head as if agreeing to a thought in his head. I walked in his direction as he turned and ordered another glass of wine.

Handing me the wine, he said, "Hello Lyn. It's so nice to see you made it again this year."

"Likewise, Don."

We mingled, saying our hellos to folks we had met in past years and introducing ourselves to newcomers. When it came time to be seated for the meal, with a gentle guiding hand to my back, Don directed me to a table. He pulled out my chair and when I was seated, he went to the opposite side and seated himself. It was just as he promised. We liked to sit across from each other, to have a full view of the others face as conversation ensued around the table with others. We deliberately parried questions of a personal nature by others. 

As the meal was eaten and before the speeches began, I placed my foot on Don's then allowed it to travel up his leg past his knee to the inside of his thigh. When at his crotch I rubbed the sole of my shoe against his bulge and then very carefully allowed my spike to run up under the point where his trousers met his chair. I saw his raised brow, and I smiled as I peered at him through half-lidded eyes. I wiggled my foot and pressed again before I allowed my foot to descend. I giggled out loud as a voice in my head said, "Danger, danger, Will Robinson."

In my attentive inattentiveness, I missed the fact that dessert was being served. The man sitting next to me queried if I wanted my dessert.

"Indeed," and I looked at Don straight on and smiled my loveliest smile. 

After the ladies at our table had been served, the waiter brought me my cherry pie with vanilla ice cream. I'm sure I smiled as I thought that when things were right and comfortable, there was irony, humor, and meaning in just about everything. I didn't need to look at Lyn to know that she had noticed the chef's simple, but appropriate, desert choice for his diners. But I did anyway. She had tilted her head down and dabbed her lips with a napkin behind which I knew a smile was hidden. I enjoyed my combination dessert/entrée/appetizer and again drifted back.

This Mixed Member Guest was a big event at her club. Our first year, I had been a last-minute substitute for her husband who had been called away on some business matter. It had been arranged by a golf-friend of mine who asked me if I might stand-in for a friend of his. Now, whenever I played with Barry, I always said a silent "Thank you" to him. 

He had described her as a very good player, competitive, but not overly serious about her game. He had also gone on to fill-in some guy-to-guy details: pretty, built, stylish, social, good sense of humor. But Barry, a bachelor, said she always seemed so self-assured and self-confident that he knew of no men who had ever made a move on her—or had even tried to approach her to assess the possibility. We had won the event that first year by hanging onto a healthy lead as we both seemed to have lost some of our focus on the second day.

She had made the initial move after the first round's dinner, this very event we were celebrating tonight. As her last minute sub, I had been dutiful in remaining close to her as I met new people, made the small talk, and served as the drink-runner for the various group's we entered and exited during cocktail hour. At dinner, I had sat beside her as her playing-partner. I remembered Barry's thumbnail of her. All of it was true but understated. 

Not far into dinner, I realized I was talking to Lyn more than I was talking to the other players at the table. She was better at sharing her attentions with our table-mates, but through the meal, I was very much aware that more of her attention was shifting to me. Our conversation shifted quickly from the tournament to personal situations. By dessert, each of us was comfortable with who we were, how we lived our lives, and that we were happy and satisfied people. Before coffee was served, I had asked her to dance.

When she took my hand to follow my lead, I knew within our first steps together that Barry had been right and wrong at the same time. Lyn was self-assured and self-confident as she molded to follow me. She accepted the press of my right hand to her back. When I drew my left hand to my shoulder, she offered no resistance. There was no delay in her breasts as my shoulders and chest guided her. The contact of our thighs was never broken. Her head had found a comfortable spot on my shoulder from which it never moved. Unlike our table behavior, we said nothing.

Retaking our seats, we were congratulated on our performance. Lyn handled the praise well; I tried to be accepting of it, but I was embarrassed inside. Along with coffee, I had ordered a drink and retreated to it. As others rose to their own dances, we remained seated. The conversation was still, eight years later, burned into my brain where it would live forever.

"Don, the dance was lovely. Thank you."

"You are more than welcome, Lyn." My eyes were down, focused instead on the ice-cubes.

"I want you as much as you want me."

My eyes crept up to that smile. "I'm glad you know, Lyn." I had pushed the glass aside and drawn the coffee cup closer. "We should finish the evening's festivities."

But her shoe was at my ankle again tapping my door to bring me back to the present. My annual recollection went back to its special space. Dessert was being cleared and the music was beginning.

"Care to dance, Lyn?" I asked already rising from my chair with her answer not necessary.

"I'd love that," she smiled.

I pulled the red dress to its now customary place and followed the music. I had learned over the years how to talk and lead at the same time.

"Partner," I explained, "as bad as we both were on the course today, I have come to the conclusion that we have no chance to win this thing tomorrow. But we were very, very good this afternoon. What do you say we abandon the tournament chances and do what we do so well together after this shindig is over?"

The slit in Lyn's shirt allowed her to answer as she shifted her thigh more to the inside of mine. This year, she was the one who said nothing as we danced.