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The Purse

By: Just Plain Bob



I knew the fridge was empty so I made a shopping list during my afternoon break and on the way home from work I stopped at Safeway. I grabbed a cart, hit the courtesy counter to get my lottery tickets for that nights drawing and then headed for the produce section.

I am not a picky shopper. I know what I'm after so I pretty much grab and go. I'm not one to pick up a head of lettuce or a green pepper and roll it around in my hands minutely inspecting it before dropping it in my cart. The exception of course is eggs. I always -- always! -- open the carton and check to make sure that none of them are broken.

I'd picked up the makings for a salad and was pushing my caret over toward the fruit when I saw her. She was standing next to the tomatoes and she had one in her hand and was checking it out like her life depended on its being absolutely flaw free. She was pretty. Not a raving beauty, but not bad to look at from the waist up. But from the waist down? Oh my fucking God! I was instantly in heat.

My major turn ons have always been legs, nylons and high heels. She was fairly tall, maybe five eight, and it looked like four feet of that was leg. She had on a skirt that fell to just below the knee and she was wearing hose and heels and not just any old heels, but the super sexy heels that don't seem to be much more than a collection of very thin leather straps attached to a sole and supported by a four inch heel. It was the kind of shoe worn by a woman who knew she had great legs and wanted to show them off.

My plan to get in, get what I needed and get out suddenly changed. I rarely got to see what this girl was showing and I decided that I was going to take my time shopping and do it not too far away from where she was doing hers. For the next twenty-five minutes I was never more than ten feet away from her as we wandered up and down the aisles. I ended up with far more in my cart that I had planned on getting, but I had to at least make the pretense of shopping as I followed her around and feasted on the visual treat she presented.

When it was time to head for the check out stands she got in a faster one than I did and I saw her walk out of the store as my checker took her time in ringing me up. I figured that I had seen the last of my leggy beauty. I had never seen her around before so the odds were that I wouldn't likely see her again.

I finally cleared the checkout stand and pushed my cart out of the store and toward my car and I saw her again. She was parked about six cars beyond mine and she was unloading her cart into the trunk of her car. She was putting the last bag into the trunk as I started down the parking aisle toward her. She walked away from her cart, got in the car and drove off. I saw that she had left her purse in the small fold down tray that is in the shopping cart and I hollered at her and waved my arms to try and stop her, but she kept on going.

I got her purse from her cart, loaded my groceries into my car and then turned to go back into the store and turn the purse in at the courtesy counter, but first I decided to look in the purse and check out the girls drivers license to see if she lived close enough to me that I could contrive some way to see more of her. Just as soon as I had that thought it occurred to me that I had the means to see more of her right in my hands. To hell with taking it to the counter, I'd deliver it to her.

++++++++++++++++

I knocked on the door to apartment 3A and waited. I figured that she was home because I saw the car she had loaded her groceries into in the parking lot. It never occurred to me until after I'd knocked that the girl might not be single. Maybe some humongous hairy dude would answer the door. I guess it didn't matter since I could hand the purse to him just as easily as I could hand it to her, but a big hairy dude was not what I had hoped to see as I drove over.

I saw the light coming through the security peep hole go away so I knew someone was on the other side of the door. I heard the security chain rattle -- putting it on or taking it off I wondered -- and then the door opened about six inches and I saw that it was the former. The girl looked through the gap at me and said:

"You're the creep who followed me through the store."

"Yeah, that was me."

"You better get out of here before I call the cops and turn you in for stalking me."

"I don't think that you want to do that. They might ask me why I'm here and that could be bad for you."

"Bad for me?"

"Yeah honey; very, very bad for you. They would ask me why I was here" and I lifted up her purse and showed it to her, "and I would tell them that you left your purse in your shopping cart and I brought it here to you. Then one of them -- they travel in pairs you know -- would say "Is that her purse?" and I would say yes and he would put out his hand for it so he could open it, look inside for your license to verify my story and that it was indeed your purse. He would be looking for your driver's license, but he would find the same thing I did when I looked. Now I have no experience in these things so I'm willing to believe that the little cellophane bags full of white stuff are powdered sugar that you carry with you because you don't like to put granular sugar in your coffee or tea, but the fuzz may not be so trusting. That is also the reason that I didn't turn the purse in at the store. They more than likely would have looked for your license to call you and tell you they had your purse, but they just might have called the cops.

"I'm a leg lover honey and looking at your gorgeous pins as you walked around the store made my day and for that reason alone I don't want to see you headed for a jail cell."

I handed her the purse through the partially opened door and said, "Best be a little more careful with it honey. The next guy that finds it might not be near as nice."

I turned and walked away without a back word glance. Fantastic legs and sexy high heels were not near enough to get me to spend time with someone who used what I found in her purse. Noooo thank you!

++++++++++++++++++++++

Two months later I was at a retirement party for Mark Whipple who had been my boss for the last seven years when I saw Adrianna again (I remembered her name from her driver's license) and I wondered who she had come to the party with. She obviously knew how great an asset her legs were because she was showing them off by wearing a short skirt and four inch heels. She was talking to Mark when I walked into the room and she saw me almost as soon as I saw her. She said something to Mark and he turned and looked at me and then went back to talking with her. I couldn't help but wonder what was up with that.

I walked over to the bar and ordered a vodka tonic and then set out to socialize and mingle. After I'd been there maybe twenty minutes Mark came up to me and said:

"You need to watch yourself Rob."

"Why is that boss?"

"You have caught the attention of my niece Adrianna. She asked me all about you. If she comes at you be careful."

"Why would she come at me?"

"No idea, but she did show an interest. Be careful son; she can be pretty overwhelming at times."

I was thinking "Don't I know it" as he walked away and I remembered what I'd found in her purse. I spent another hour socializing and then I got my coat and got ready to leave. The coat check girl was handing me my coat when I heard:

"You were really going to leave without saying hi to me?"

I turned and saw Adrianna standing there. "Why would I say hi to you? The last time I saw you you called me a creep and threatened to call the cops on me. What was I supposed to do? Walk up to you and say "Hi. Called the cops on anybody lately?" I don't think so."

"Oh come on. Cut me some slack here. Put yourself in my position. A man follows you around for almost half an hour in a store and then shows up at your apartment and knocks on your door. You would have had the same thoughts I did and don't forget that you didn't let me know that you were returning my purse until after you had me thinking that you were a stalker."

"Oh yes; your purse. How could I forget your purse. Why would a one hundred percent straight arrow like myself want to speak to the kind of person who had what you had in your purse?"

"Maybe the person isn't the kind of person you think she is. Maybe you could buy this person a cup of coffee at the Denny's on the corner and give her a chance to tell you all about what you saw."

I looked at her for a couple of seconds and thought "Why not? What could it hurt" and so I told her that I would meet her at the Denny's in five minutes.

"I'll go with you. I came with my Uncle Mark and I've already told him that you will be giving me a ride home."

"That was taking a hell of a chance."

"I didn't think so. Any guy trying to keep me out of jail because he liked my legs would seem like a safe bet. Besides, you wouldn't want to disappoint my Uncle Mark would you?"

On the ride to the restaurant I found out that she had lived with Mark from the time she was twelve until she got married. He was her only living relative when her parents were killed in an accident and he took her in and raised her.

"You are married?"

"Divorced. You?"

"Was, but it was many long years ago."

"You over her? It took me a long time to get over him."

"If the attachment was that strong why did it end?"

"He had forsaking all other issues."

"Forsaking all other issues?"

"In that he didn't. When he didn't forsake my Cousin Beth I ended it. How about you?"

"With mine it wasn't my cousin, but it was just as bad. He was my boss at the time. She told me that it meant nothing, that it was only just sex and she only did it to help me get me a promotion."

"Did you get the promotion?"

"My chances for advancement died when I broke his nose, three ribs and caused him to lose one of his testicles."

"And you didn't go to jail?"

"He wouldn't press charges after I told him I would sue him for alienation of affections and a half dozen other sexual charges. Did you know that you can sue for sexual harassment if your boss goes after your spouse promising to help you in your career?"

"Why didn't you sue? Wouldn't it have been just as satisfying to ruin him financially as it was hurting him?"

"According to the attorney I had at the time my wife, since we were still married, would have gotten half of it in the divorce settlement and no way was I going to let that bitch profit from cheating on me."

In the booth at Denny's I got the story about the cellophane packets that I had found in her purse.

"They weren't mine. I was at a club with my girlfriend Gloria and the guy she was dating at the time. I was out on the dance floor so I didn't see it, but apparently Gary, the guy she was dating, saw a couple of guys come in that he knew were on the narcotics squad. The problem was that they also knew him. Before they saw him he gave Gloria what he was carrying and she put it in her purse, grabbed mine and then came out onto the dance floor and told me that she needed to talk to me urgently. We went to the ladies room and she asked me to take the stuff and then she and Gary would leave and draw the cops off and while they were busy either following or searching Gary I could slip out the back door and meet them later and give the stuff back to them.

"I hadn't gone back to the table so the cops wouldn't associate me with Gary. She left the bathroom and I was supposed to wait five minutes or so and then go and sit at the bar until I saw her leave with Gary, but after she left I started thinking about how stupid it would be to sit around with a bunch of drugs with known narcotics officers in the building. I hid the stuff and then went home. I went back to the club the next day when the cops were gone and picked the stuff up. I stopped at the Safeway and went home. When you came to the door I thought it was Gloria until I looked through the peep hole and saw you. I do not use that stuff, never have and never will."

"And it is important that I know this why?"

"Uncle Mark speaks highly of you so you can't be all bad. You seem to really like my legs and you did try to keep me out of jail. A guy with all of those qualities just might be a good guy to know."

"Can this be considered as you making a move on me?"

"See? Another good quality. You are bright and perceptive. What do you think? Want to give it a try?"

"I can't remember the last time a girl came after me. In fact, I'm almost sure that it never happened. I just have to say okay if for no other reason than the sheer uniqueness of it. Then of course there are those sexy legs."

And that is how my relationship with Adrianna got started.

++++++++++++++++++++

I'd already been through a bad marriage and I was in no great hurry to do it again. Gail and I had married after knowing each other for only six months. I don't know if a longer relationship before proposing would have made any difference, but if I ever got married again I was going to know my bride a whole lot better than I knew Gail when I said I do.

Adrianna and I started out dating a couple of times a week and as we got to know each other better we saw each other more often. We kissed on our second date. I got my hands on her breasts on the fifth date and my fingers inside her panties on our seventh. When I took her home after our eighth she asked:

"How long are we going to dance around it? I'm past being ready for it."

I knew what she was asking and said, "I'm more than ready too, but I was letting you set the pace. I didn't want to push too hard and risk scaring you away."

She was magnificent in the bedroom. Enthusiastic, energetic, responsive and she loved it all. I warmed her up with some pussy licking and clit sucking and she pushed me into a sixty-nine. We made love missionary, she sucked me hard again and she went cowgirl. And then she asked me to take her ass. The first time in my life that a girl wanted anal the first time we fucked and I had never -- never! -- had a girl ask me for it.

We fell asleep cuddled up to each other and in the morning she woke me up with a blow job and then climbed aboard and rode me cowgirl until we both got off. We showered together which ended up with us back on the bed which led to a second shower. She fixed breakfast for us and afterward she had me do her on the kitchen table. After that night we never went out that we didn't end up in either her bed or mine.

Adrianna (or Ri as I called her) and I had an awful lot in common. We both liked to read, liked a full range of music from classical to bluegrass, liked hiking in the mountains and loved country western dancing. The only thing I didn't like where Ri was concerned was that she had a few friends that I would just as soon she didn't have. Gloria was her best friend and the fact that Gloria hung with drug dealers, druggies and other losers didn't bother Ri at all, but other than finding reasons for not spending time around Gloria (had to work late, change the oil in my car, pick the lint out of my navel) I stayed away from the issue. After a few initial comments about it where I carefully mentioned that sooner or later Gloria was going to be looking at some jail time when she ended up being with her drug selling boyfriend when he got busted I wisely kept my mouth shut about things. I knew how things would go if I tried to come between her and her best friend.

On her part she absolutely detested my cousin Lou and didn't care if I knew it or not. I didn't much care because Lou was a bit obnoxious, but I was used to him. She did like my mom and dad and while they had been lukewarm where Gail was concerned they thought that Ri was an absolute gem.

++++++++++++++++

After six months of dating Ri and I decided to move in together. She gave up her apartment and moved into the house that I had managed to hang onto when Gail and I went through our divorce. After four months of cohabitation I decided that I would like to make things permanent and I proposed.

"Are you serious?"

"Sure. After ten months together including four as pretend man and wife why not?"

"I don't know. I never thought about it. Things were going so well. Marriage would change things."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. I just know that marriage changes things."

"Well love, it is up to you. If you would rather keep things just as they are we can."

"I'm happy with our relationship honey. I'm just scared to do anything that might change it."

"Like I said Ri, it is up to you. I love you and I want to spend all my time with you with or without a ring on your finger."

"I love you too honey. It doesn't have to be a big wedding does it?"

"Not if you don't want one. Is that some kind of a yes?"

"I guess it is."

"Great. We can get the blood tests and license this week and I'll line up a justice of the peace for next week."

"No, not next week. Next week and the week after I'll be involved in a large project at work and I'll probably have to work late a couple of nights and maybe even a Saturday. Let me get that out of the way first."

Three weeks later we took our vows in front of my mom and dad, her Uncle Mark and her best friend Gloria and her current boyfriend. I say current because her drug dealing boyfriend got busted and was in jail. Fortunately for Gloria she wasn't with him at the time.

++++++++++++++++

The next five years flew by and my marriage to Ri was everything that I could have hoped for. Our friends all thought that we were the perfect couple and had the perfect marriage and as far as I was concerned they were right. Naturally there were problems, but not very many and most of them had to do with her job. 

Twice her job had forced me to make some major changes in plans that I had made and it was always for the same reason. She would get put on a major project with an approaching deadline and she would end up working late and on weekends. The first time I'd scored some tickets to a concert and surprised her with them only to get the bad news that she was going to be working late the week of the concert. 

The second time really pissed me off. A friend had signed up for a ten day cruise in the Caribbean and then had had a death in the family. He had paid in advance and the tickets were not refundable. I offered to buy them from him and damned if Ri didn't have another project that she had to work. But what the hey, just some minor glitches and nothing to really lose any sleep over.

+++++++++++++++++++++

Everything was going great and then I let a few beers too many make me stupid and I invited the serpent into the Garden of Eden.

One night Ri was doing something with her Uncle Mark so I stopped after work to have a couple of beers and shoot some pool at my favorite sports bar. Jimmy and some guy I didn't know were on one of the tables when I got there. Jimmy was one of the few guys that Gloria had gone out with that I liked. I challenged the winner and when Jimmy won we played. Jimmy was damned near unbeatable that night and I lost. I got out of the way of the next challenger who also lost. The next challenger was the guy Jimmy had been playing when I got there. He lost and joined me at my table and we introduced ourselves. His name was Paul and he was a good friend of Jimmy's. We talked sports and drank beer as we kept challenging the table and losing.

Finally a guy beat Jimmy and he joined us at the table. When Jimmy sat down he looked from me to Paul and then back at me as he said:

"Weird that you two should find each other at the same table."

"Why is that?" I asked.

"You are married to Adrianna and Paul used to be."

"Used to be what?"

"Married to Adrianna."

I turned to Paul, "Is that true? Are you Ri's ex?"


The Purse



"Fraid so. I heard that she married again. So you're the guy huh?"

"Yep, and I want to thank you for it."

"Thank me? Why would you thank me?"

"If you hadn't screwed up Ri would never have divorced you and I would never have met her."

"I screwed up? I don't know what kind of bullshit she fed you, but I didn't screw anything up and she didn't divorce me, I divorced her."

"She said that she caught you screwing her cousin."

"She doesn't have a cousin. Her only living relative is her Uncle Mark."

"She wouldn't lie to me. I can understand you not wanting to look bad, but I know her and she wouldn't lie to me."

"Have it your way. She wouldn't lie to you. I'm the bad guy. For all I know she hasn't seen Daniel since our divorce/"

"Daniel?"

"Never mind. You are happy with her so let it be."

Well of course I couldn't let it be. No way was I going to let the asshole cast aspersions on my wife so I said:

"No. Who is this Daniel and what does he have to do with this?"

He shrugged and said, "Okay. Daniel was her first love and for all I know he still is. They dated all through high school and he got her cherry and promised to marry her. Then his dad got a promotion that caused them to move out of state. She met me in our first year at college and we ended up getting married. Then Daniel came back to town, they hooked up and she cheated on me. It happened three more times over the course of the next five years only the third time she was seen going into a motel with him by my sister. My sister told me and I confronted Adrianna. She admitted it, but said that it didn't mean anything. She really loved me, but she had a special attachment to Daniel. Besides, it was only every couple of years or so and none of the previous times had hurt us any.

"If I was a different kind of guy I might have bought into it and let her have her once every couple of years or so, but I'm not that kind of a guy. She was either mine totally or she wasn't mine at all. Since she wasn't mine totally she was out."

"That just doesn't sound like Adrianna. It doesn't sound at all like something she would do."

"Maybe she learned her lesson with me or then again, maybe Daniel never came back to town."

"No, I'm sorry, but I can't believe you. That just isn't my Ri."

"Tell you what. Meet me here tomorrow and buy me a beer and I'll show you the divorce papers that say I divorced her cheating ass for infidelity."

He could see on my face that I thought he was a liar so he said, "Let me ask you something. It doesn't happen all that often, maybe once very couple of years, but does she suddenly get put on special projects and have to work late and on the weekends? If she does it means that Daniel is in town. If it hasn't happened then one of the two things I mentioned are what has happened. She learned a lesson, or Daniel has never come back to town." 

I had a lot to think about as I drove home and the thoughts I was having were not good ones. If I hadn't pushed I could have disregarded Paul's assertion that he wasn't at fault in the divorce as male bluster against being put in a bad light, but I had pushed and he had dropped "the working late on special projects" bomb on me and then there was that one little item that I had never picked up on even though I should have. How could he have been caught fucking a cousin that she didn't have?

Now I had a head full of thoughts that I really didn't want to have. Chief among them was the fact that Adrianna had done the "special projects' thing to me three times over the past five years and the first time was just weeks before we married.

Ri and I averaged making love four times a week and we made love at the same frequency during the times she worked on her ;special projects' which led to a disturbing thought -- was I getting sloppy seconds during those periods? I hadn't noticed any change in her behavior during those times. I didn't see any lessening of love or affection during those periods nor did I see any increase that might have indicated some sort of guilty feelings on her part.

Yes indeed, I did have a lot of thoughts I wish I didn't have. The only thing that I knew for sure was that there wasn't anything I could do until it happened again.

++++++++++++++++

Sorry to say, but what Paul had said planted the bug in my brain and I started paying closer attention to what Ri was doing and what she said she was doing. Several times over the next year I followed her to see if she did anything that she shouldn't be doing. I told myself that if she was cheating with this Daniel when he came to town why wouldn't she cheat when he wasn't around. Once a cheater always a cheater, right?

Every couple of weeks she would stop after work for drinks with her co-workers and I followed her a few times and all she did was have one or two drinks and then go home. She never once danced with any of the men there or spent much time talking with anyone of them in particular. Maybe half a dozen times I was outside her work place around lunch time to see if she left work with anybody to catch a 'nooner' and she never did, at least not on the days I was watching. 

I saw absolutely nothing to indicate that my wife was unfaithful and I had to conclude that either Ri was not cheating and Paul had been pulling my chain or Paul was telling the truth and she only cheated with this Daniel when he came to town,

+++++++++++++++++++++++

It was just a tad over a year from when I had met Paul that I got my chance to find out what the truth might be. One night over dinner Ri said:

"I've got another special project coming up next week so don't make any plans that will include me."

"Why don't they schedule those damned things far enough out so that people can plan around them?"

"It isn't my company that sets the deadlines honey. The client calls, tells us what they want or need and when they have to have it and we have to respond. Believe me honey, I really would like more notice about these things than I get."

Wednesday morning before I left for work Adrianna reminded me that she would probably be working late that night.

"The good news is that we should be done by Friday night so I shouldn't have to work any this weekend."

"Well at least that's something. Maybe we can go to the lake this weekend."

"That sounds lake a marvelous idea."

She gave me a big kiss and said, "There, that should hold you until I get home. If you are still up your might get more."

I was up when she got home. Not because I was horny and wanted to get laid, but because I wanted to make love to her and see if I could tell whether or not she might have already been laid. If she had I couldn't tell. She didn't feel any different or act any different. The only thing I noticed was a faint scent that I didn't recognize. I wondered what it could be and then it occurred to me that it might be the scent of the soap used by the hotel or motel. But then maybe it could be the smell of some one she brushed up against in a crowded elevator. After all, she did work on the tenth floor of a tall building.

What is it that they say? That denial is not a river in Egypt?

Well, any denial on my part that my wife would cheat on me was dispelled at the two-fifteen meeting I had with David Sloan of the Morresy Security and Investigative Agency.

"Subject left her place of employment at 4:32 pm and proceeded to walk two blocks to the Starburst Lounge. Subject entered the lounge and proceeded to a booth in the rear of the room. Subject was greeted by a male later ascertained to be one Daniel Martin. The subject and Mr. Martin hugged and kissed each other, sat down in the booth and had one drink before getting up to leave. They left the Starburst and proceeded across the street to the Hilton hotel where they took the elevator to the fourth floor where Mr. Martin had a room. Subject entered room 412 at 5:10 pm and remained in the room until 10:20 pm. When subject left the room she was followed until she reached her residence at which time the surveillance was discontinued for the night."

Well there it was. Paul hadn't lied. I made some arrangements with the detectives and then returned to work. I didn't get much done. I sat there and contemplated my marriage. It had been an extremely good one. I had been very happy with Ri and she had given every indication of being happy with me. Lord knows she did spoil me rotten. I was at a complete loss to understand how she could show me so much love and affection and then do what she was doing. I didn't know if the marriage could survive, but I did know that I was going to do whatever I could to try and save it.

+++++++++++++++

I left work at three forty-five and went to the Hilton. I checked out the layout and saw which rooms would give me the best shot at what I planned on doing and then went down to the desk and asked if room 415 was available. I told the clerk that I tried to stay in that room every time I was in town since that was the room where I spent the first night when I married my wife. Luckily it was open so I signed in and went up to the room and settled in.

At four forty-five the detective called me on my cell and told me that the happy couple were on the way. I cracked the door a hair and when I heard the elevator 'ding' I looked through the crack to see Adrianna and Martin coming down the hall hand in hand. I closed the door and moved to the bed and turned on the TV. 

Figuring that the time line for the night would be the same as the previous I shut off the TV at five after ten and then cracked my door and took a seat next to it. At ten-fifteen I heard the door to 412 open and through the crack I saw Adrianna heading down the hall to the elevator. When I heard the 'ping' of the elevator door opening I left the room and crossed the hall to 412. I knocked on the door gambling that he would open the door thinking that it was Adrianna coming back because she forgot something or remembered something she had to tell him or ask him.

The door started to open and I rammed it hard with my shoulder. The door slammed into him and sent him stumbling backwards and I entered the room and was on him before he could catch his balance. I was wearing a pair of leather work gloves to protect my hands and I proceeded to beat the living shit out of him. I worked on him until he was on the floor groaning and then I kicked him hard ten or twelve times. I think I broke a rib or two and I know that his stones were going to take a long time to recover.

He was in a bathrobe and his clothes were folded and lying on a chair. I went over and got his wallet out of his pants. I dumped the contents on the table and went through them. I copied down all of the information on his driver's license. As I was doing that I noticed him struggling trying to get up so I went over and kicked him in the head and he went back down. I went back to going through his wallet and I found a picture of a very beautiful woman with two kids. I put the picture in my pocket.

I went back over to him and drug him over to the bathtub and horsed him into it and then turned on the shower full cold. I ran cold water on him until he was aware enough to hear me.

"Are you right or left handed?"

"What?" he mumbled.

"Easy enough question. Are you right or left handed?"

"Why? What are you doing?"

"I want to know which arm to break."

"Go away" he whined, "I hurt. I need a doctor."

"You aren't hurting enough as far as I'm concerned. I'm giving my hands a rest before I start pounding on you some more. After which I'm going to break your arm and then you can go see a doctor."

He started to push himself up and I backhanded him and his head went back and banged into the wall. He slid back down into the tub and I said:

"You aren't going anywhere Daniel; at least not until I am through with you."

He sniffed and whined "Why are you doing this to me? I don't even know you."

"No, but you know my wife and in fact you know her a lot better than I'm happy with."

"Your wife?"

"Oh come on Daniel; you can't have forgotten her already. She's only been gone from here for about twenty minutes."

I saw the understanding take place across his face and then a trace of fear in his eyes. 

"Here's the thing Daniel. I have this ingrained thing about violence toward women. It is just something that I can't do, but I have all of this pent up rage inside of me over what the two of you have been doing to me and it has to come out. Since I just can't hit a woman I can't touch Adrianna therefore you have to take the full brunt of my anger. Surely you can understand that. Now, back to my question. Are you right or left handed? Because even though I'm extremely pissed at you right now I still want you to be able to feed yourself and brush your teeth. That will make you appreciate your arms that much more which will in turn make you to not ever want to have both of them broken at the same time and that is what will happen to you if you ever speak to Adrianna again. Now -- which arm?"

"Please man no. Don't hurt me any more. I won't ever see her or talk to her again. I swear it."

"I don't know Daniel. You have caused me a lot of hurt and I feel the crying need to get back at you."

I took the picture of the women with the two kids out of my pocket and showed it to him.

"How about instead of breaking an arm I get on an airplane and fly to Akron? While I'm there I can stop by 543 Meyers Court and pay this lady and the two kids a visit and share with them the anger I have over what you have been doing with my wife."

"Oh man God no. Please don't do that. It would kill her."

"Yes, but then she would have a whole lot of anger and she would take it out on you and really Daniel that is what this is all about. Making you suffer."

"No man, come on, please. Please leave her out of this. Go ahead and break my arm, but please leave her out of this."

"You would take a broken arm to keep your wife from suffering? Maybe you do have a redeeming quality or two. Tell you what I'll do Daniel. I'll settle for what I've already done to you, but there is a price. You agree to it and I'll get up and leave, your wife will never know and you won't suffer any more physical damage."

"I'll pay it. I'll do it. Whatever it is I'll do it just please leave my wife out of it"

"Okay, but you need to understand that if you backslide on the deal your wife finds out everything and in addition I'll put you in a wheel chair. You understand?"

"I told you I'll do it. I promise. I'll do it."

"Okay Daniel, here is the deal. You will never see Adrianna again. You will never speak to her again. You will not email her; send her a letter or a post card or a smoke signal. There will be absolutely no contact between the two of you ever again. Are we clear on that?"

"Yes. I understand."

"One more time. No contact in any way, shape, matter or form. If she calls you you will immediately hang up without speaking a word to her. If she sends you an email you will instantly delete it without reading it. If you get a letter you will toss it in the wastebasket without opening it. If she approaches you on the street you will turn and run -- not walk Daniel, but run -- in the opposite direction. And lastly, she will never know we had this little talk. Are we clear on all of this?"

"Yes sir. Perfectly clear."

"You need to know that I will be watching and if I catch even a hint that you are not living up to your end I will know. Just like I knew about last night and tonight. I'll know and I promise you that if you ever see me again it will not be in the least pleasant."

I got up and left his room. I knew that he could call the cops, but then his wife would find out and it seemed that he did not want that.

+++++++++++++++++++

When I got home Ri was waiting up for me. "Where have you been? I was worried when I got home and you weren't here and I couldn't reach you on your cell."

"Something came up at work and I had to work late. I drove over to your office to meet you so we could stop somewhere for a drink before we came home, but all the lights were off so I guessed that you had already headed home."

I saw something in her eyes when I said that and I'm guessing it was something like "Oh shit!" but then the look changed to something that was probably relief as she realized she had just dodged a bullet.

That night she was as passionate as always and I wondered at it. It didn't matter if Daniel was in town or not the level of her passion was always the same. She always behaved as if she couldn't get enough. I fell asleep wondering if I had solved the problem.

The next night Ri was home by seven and when I told her I hadn't expected her for hours she told me that things had all come together and they finished quicker than they expected. The others wanted to go out and have a drink or two to celebrate, but she begged off.

"I'd much rather be at home with you."

I got the story the next day when the detective called with his report. Daniel had checked out at eight, caught the hotel shuttle to the airport where he boarded to 10:10 flight to Akron. He was walking with a limp and seemed to be favoring his right side. 

Adrianna got off work at her regular time and walked over to the lounge. Daniel wasn't there so she sat down and ordered a drink while she waited for him. After twenty minutes she took out her cell and made a call, but apparently got no answer. Fifteen minutes later she tried the phone again, but still didn't talk to anyone. She waited another ten minutes and then she walked over to the hotel. She used the house phone to make a call and didn't get an answer so she walked over the desk and spoke to the clerk and found out that Mr. Martin had checked out. She went back to the lounge, had one more drink and tried her cell twice more and then she had come home.

+++++++++++++++

It has been a little over eight years now and during that time Ri has not had to work any special projects that cause her to work late or on the weekends. I keep a pretty close eye on her and she has done nothing to make me even slightly suspicious. She still spoils me rotten and tries to fuck me to death three or four times a week.

Maybe some day when we are old and gray I might ask her about Daniel and her relationship with him and depending on my mood and the situation I might even tell her how I ended it.



The Pursuit of a Teacher



Recently an old friend confessed her still smoldering feelings for a teacher we'd had back in high school and knowing about my writing, asked me to put her fantasy down into words. It's a bit modernized, but tried to hew as close to reality as possible and yes, Megan's physical description is dead on (one of the most challenging parts). It turned into a sexy, naughty little love story that I hope you'll enjoy. I look forward to hearing your comments!

As always, all characters are fictional and they and the events described exist solely within the confines of the story and my mind. Enjoy!

*

As I sit on the edge of the bed, stark naked, staring at the full length mirror before me, I know that many would see me as simply a child-like waif, a fey nymph of legend without the requisite womanly attributes necessary to accomplish my goal. I am eighteen, but look much younger, some, I am sure, would say that I look obscenely young -- far too innocent and wide-eyed to be considering the lewd thoughts that run constantly in my mind.

Long brown hair hangs down almost to my hips, parting in the middle to frame a face that looks virginal and innocent with a pert nose, perfectly sized lips and gloriously big, blue eyes. My naked body does nothing to betray my age -- flawless porcelain skin on a slender, five foot frame, breasts like budding apples and coltish legs between which lies a hairless mound...my slick, glistening, aroused pink flesh the only note betraying me as an adult rather than a child. 

I run my hands slowly down the top of my thighs until I can grip my kneecaps and spread my legs wide, making my small, but thick labia spread to reveal that I am so wet. As I admire my nakedness in the mirror, I can feel my small nipples harden into rocky pebbles and I shiver a bit as the need to caress them, to pinch myself is almost overwhelming.

I stare at myself for what seems an eternity, measuring the sexuality of my body with its child-like dimensions, knowing, feeling the burning restless within me, pulsating in my tight, hairless cunt and throbbing in my blood gorged nipples and yearning for that perfect moment...that perfect union with the mate of my dreams. I imagine myself in his arms, enveloped in his strength and his passion, confident in his ability to master me and teach me everything I do not yet comprehend in the art of love.

Slowly, my fingers begin to trace a path backwards from my knees -- now tickling the velvety soft flesh of my inner thighs until the very tips of my fingertips brush across my nether lips, drawing the softest of moans from me as pleasure threatens to rise up and consume me like a fire gone wild. I gasp for air and stare at my image at my reflection, my great, pale blue eyes becoming hooded and my mouth gaping open as the need to orgasm makes my face go slack.

I draw my legs up until I am squatting on the edge of my bed like a lewd fairy on a mushroom, my knees on either side of my face as my torso leans into my legs, affording my hands better access to the simmering wet flesh between my thighs. I wonder if he would find this attractive, erotic -- this image of a fairy tale Lolita, his very own woman child, putting herself on display...offering herself freely and obscenely to him.

I think to myself that such a display would provoke an erection and I feel myself getting wetter imagining his cock growing harder...longer....thicker because of me. I watch myself bite my lower lip, conscious that among the many things that make me pretty is the slight overbite I possess. I gasp as I slowly slip two fingers...my long and delicate fingers, inside me, curling them upwards to where my sweetest spot resides and I keen with carnal delight as fingertips gently brush the spots that seem to turn my insides into liquid ecstasy even as I brush my thumb over my swollen clitoris which has emerged like a flower bud from it's bulb, throbbing with its own pulsating pleasure.

I glance at my scandalous reflection through strands of hair hanging in front of my eyes. With one hand, I finger myself, the two fingers inside my wet pussy picking up speed even as they appear more covered in my own creams with each in and out motion of my arm. My other hand is busy, one second rubbing my palm over a hard nipple, trying to soothe the intense itch of desire and then the next second pinching the engorged nub tightly between forefinger and thumb as if to both extinguish and inflame the exploding sensations in front of me.

I can feel and see my orgasm approaching and I call to him again and again, using his formal name -- not daring to speak so casual to him, knowing that it is our unique relationship that creates the maddening taboo that makes my desires for him all the more sinfully sweet. I can envision him standing before me -- naked and hard for me. I can envision him inside me, thick and long, making me..."OH GOD, I'M CUMMINGGGG!" I sob aloud, feeling the room spin around me as my world becomes centered around the eruption of pleasure radiating outward from my pussy to flood every cell of my body with sexual ecstasy.

I fall back on the bed, my hair fanning out all around me as I keep my knees spread wide and both my hands are rubbing furiously over my pussy, fingers vying with each other to spear between my labia and keep my lovely orgasm from fading. When finally, my hands fall away, trailing my juices across my belly and thighs with the smell of my aroused sex hanging thick in my nostrils, I gasp for air until finally I can breath normally again and the sweat on my aroused skin begins to cool.

I gaze up at the ceiling, wishing I had a mirror up there to allow me to witness the condition that imagining him making love to me produces. Finally, I struggle to sit up, again looking at my now disheveled appearance, feeling somewhat pleased and aroused at the wanton look of my body now cooling down from orgasm. I know he would find it pleasing...that even after being fucked by him -- that in the afterglow of my...our orgasm with his seed planted deep within me, my appearance would make him hard again and we could -- no, would begin our dance of love and lust once more.

I lick my lips, almost tasting him on them as I say to my reflection, "Mr. Hamilton...I really want to fuck you."

#

I could feel the last of the other students' eyes on me as they shuffled out the door while I stood before Mr. Hamilton's desk. I had my eyes on my feet, unable to face my teacher's piercing gaze. He said not a word as the door snickered shut and we were finally alone. I felt my face burning as the noise of students moved down the hall, down the stairs towards the lockers and then out to the awaiting buses and into the student parking lot. Still, I was comforted by the fact that Mr. Hamilton was gazing at me and that I offered him a pleasing sight.

I was skirting the limits of our school's dress code, wearing a white blouse and a green plaid skirt that ended at the extreme limit under school guidelines...the hem a full five inches above the knee. White bobby socks and saddle shoes completed my sexy little school girl look and I finally braved a glimpse at my teacher. Mr. Hamilton was indeed staring at me uncomfortably. I took a deep breath and said in a whispery soft voice, "Is there a problem, Mr. Hamilton? Why did you ask me to stay after class?"

My teacher opened his mouth and then closed it. Finally, he sighed and opening up a side drawer of his desk, pulled out a blue folder and placed it in front of him. He looked down at it and then at me and sighing again, said, "Megan...the work you turned in...it..." His face was reddening and he said almost too soft to hear, "Megan, this is completely inappropriate and worse, it's dangerous. If anyone else read this, it would...I could be fired."

I shrugged my shoulders and replied, "I don't see why. I wrote it, not you."

"You handed me a description of yourself sitting naked in your bedroom and ended it with an expression of your desire to have...to make love with me."

I grinned and rubbed my hands across my lower stomach. "On the contrary, I stated that I wanted to fuck you, Mr. Hamilton. Don't you just love that word? 'Fuck.' It sounds so nasty, so dirty, so...sexy."

Mr. Hamilton made an odd noise and his face grew redder. "Megan...you...I am three times your age. I'm a teacher and you're a student. Even thinking of it is wrong!" His voice sounded strangled and he shifted nervously in his seat while tugging at his tie.

I sauntered a little closer to his desk, feeling an incredible rush of desire and understanding that I was more or less in control of this situation. I leaned forward, the front of my blouse gaping open to let him see my smallish breasts enhanced by the special bra I'd picked up. "Again, I don't see why...I'm eighteen now...legally I'm an adult and I love the fact that you're older. You're a man, Mr. Hamilton...a mature man." I waved my hand dismissively. "There's no way I'd allow one of these immature boys to be my first lover. I want a man...a sexier, older man who will know how to please a woman and you know how to do that, Mr. Hamilton. I can see it in your eyes and in the way you look at us young ladies. I know that you fucking me will be the greatest experience in my young life!"

My teacher shook his head violently and said. "This is not going to happen. Doesn't matter if you're over the age of consent or not. Teachers are not supposed to fu...have sex with students, no matter their age. Megan, I want you to never to turn something like this in again or I'll have to take this to the Principal."

I giggled as I slowly strolled around the desk and hopped up on the corner of the old wooden desk, letting my legs dangle while the hem of my plaid skirt rose almost to my crotch -- my feet almost brushing his trousers. "Now, Mr. Hamilton, we both know you're not going to do that. Like you said, you would get fired. And, let's be totally honest, as much as I want to fuck you, Mr. Hamilton, you want to fuck me!"

Mr. Hamilton scooted away from me as if to avoid even a hint of physical contact. "That's not true, Megan, not true! I would never take advantage of a student."

I sighed and replied, "It's only taking advantage if it was something I didn't want to do, sir." I turned towards him, drawing my right leg up and setting it on top of his desk, causing my skirt to rise up and expose my light green cotton panties. "I want to fuck you, you wonderful man...I want to fuck you so much, just thinking about it makes me so incredibly wet!" I ran my hand over my partly exposed belly and then down over my panty covered mound, drawing his attention to the very dark stain there...a stain that glistened with wetness. I rubbed a finger over it and tried unsuccessfully to not shiver with carnal delight.

As I rubbed my crotch, I said, "Tell me that you're not hard right now, Mr. Hamilton. Tell me that your cock isn't stiff and long just thinking about sticking that big ol' thing in little ol' me!"

Mr. Hamilton's hands dropped into his lap, trying to hide the bulge that was already there. His eyes dropped guiltily down to the floor between us, but I could see him struggling to not look up at least as far as my exposed crotch. I felt a happy thrill shoot through me as his eyes rose to rest on my now clearly outlined labia and it made me even wetter to know he was staring at my "camel toe." Finally, he lifted his gaze to my face, seeing the arousal there. "This is not going to happen, Megan. Never, do you understand me?"

I shrugged my shoulders and hopped off the desk, my skirt falling into place and I was pleased by the look of disappointment on my teacher's face. "I'm a patient girl, Mr. Hamilton. I know it will take some convincing to get you to see things my way." I held up my fingers that gleamed faintly with my own juices and winked at him as I started to walk away, looking at him over my shoulder as I sucked my fingers clean. 

When I reached the door, I glanced back at him and said, "You'll come around to my way of thinking, Mr. Hamilton. I know you will. I think its encouraging that for all your protests, you never actually said the word 'no.'' I giggled at his panicked expression and slipped out of his classroom, pleased with how things were unfolding.

#

The dream always begins with me on my knees before you. Sometimes I'm wearing clothes, sometimes not and sometimes I am partly clothed. The only real constants are that your cock is out and it is very, very hard. I try to imagine how your hard penis will feel and taste on my tongue. I imagine it as an iron bar wrapped with silk, tasting of salt and pee and sweat and sperm. I want so badly to taste your spunk...to feel the heat and texture of semen....is it liquid or jelly? I don't worry about the taste, it is your baby-making seed and I know I will love it.

I imagine you staring into my eyes, seeing the joy I feel as my soft lips slide over the head of your cock...wondering how I will get such a big and long thing all down my throat...not that I won't -- I will be happy to devote my life to being able to deep-throat my man...that's of course when you're not fucking me silly.

Mom always said that my eyes were my best feature and I guess in some ways, she is right. I know I have the most luminous blue eyes...huge like in those Japanese cartoons that I still watch. I love the thought of you staring into those eyes as I bob my face up and down on your cock, sucking you, licking you, never taking my eyes off of you while I use your facial expressions to learn what you like when being sucked off. I start to drool just imagining my tongue rolling over your swollen flesh, lapping at you like the world's sweetest ice cream cone.

I want to watch you reach climax while in my mouth, able to sense that moment when you lose control...the moment you gush semen into my mouth. I know I will live for feasting on your sperm. It takes me almost to orgasm just thinking about it. And I can't wait for the day that you shower my face with your semen, allowing me to rub it into my skin or scoop it off my face so I can suck it off my fingers. It makes me so wet just knowing that as soon as you cum on my face, I'll start sucking you again to keep you hard so you can fuck me or hose me down with your hot semen again!"

#

"Megan, I'm begging you to stop this craziness. If someone were to find out what you're writing...what if your mother discovers this on your computer?" Mr. Hamilton was sweating, although whether from the stress of the moment or the fact that I was rubbing my breasts through the thin blouse I was wearing today after shedding my school sweater, revealing that before I'd showed up for the last class of the day, I'd removed my bra...not that I really needed it with my little peach sized breasts. My nipples were hard and made little pencil eraser sized nubs against the white, almost transparent cotton cloth.

"My mother doesn't really care what I do, so long as I don't keep her from cruising the bar scene for her latest pick-up. All that matters is you and me, Mr. Hamilton. You always have taught us to write the truth and the truth is that I want to suck your cock so badly, it makes my mouth water with anticipation."

"You've got to stop writing this stuff and saying it. Megan, I'm too old for you. I'm old enough to be your father...even your grandfather!"

I crooned with pleasure as I pinched both my erect nipples hard, closing my eyes for a moment and then opening them, imagining that they were shiny with excitement. "Oh, god...that would be so nasty hot! If you were my father, we could fuck 24/7, Mr. Hamilton! I would love that...begging my teacher-daddy to fuck me with his big dick!"

Mr. Hamilton put his head in his hands and groaned. "Megan, you're just a damn kid. Why would you want some old fart like me as your lover?"

"Now, that's a good question, Mr. Hamilton. The answer is that you're the best man I've ever known and that you're the only person -- man or woman who's ever treated me like an adult." I strolled around the table, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. Teasing this lovely man was one thing as was steering him towards our inevitable union, but now I was opening myself up emotionally.

As I approached him, my teacher reflexively pushed himself away in his office chair until he bumped up against the wall. I continued forward until I was almost touching his knees. Looking steadily into his eyes, I said as I began to slowly run my hands up and down my petite body, "I long ago accepted that until I'm old and gray, I'm going to pretty much look like a girl just entering puberty."

My hands slipped up to cover my smallish breasts as I continued, "I know I'll never had big and bouncy tits to show off like Josie or miles and miles of leg like Tonya, but this is a woman's body...with all the needs of a woman...all the desires of a woman." I continued to caress myself, "accidentally" tugging my skirt up momentarily to reveal that I was sans panties as well this afternoon. "Mr. Hamilton, you were the first man to treat me like an adult...you are still in the minority of folks that consider me an adult. My mother doesn't, my father in Oregon doesn't, and the rest of my teachers don't."

"Megan, maybe there is some truth in that, but you are still a very young woman and if you have needs and um...desires, you should be experiencing them with someone close to your own age."

"No! Age doesn't matter when love is involved!" I stepped closer, leaning in and placing my hands on the armrests of his chair, my legs pressing against his, hoping that my blouse gaped open enough to see my small breasts with their pointed nipples. "And I love you, Mr. Hamilton -- I have since I was a freshman."

I moved a little closer, forcing my knees between his legs while my hands slid up the armrest to grip his wrists. "And I know you have feelings for me too! I'm young, but I know how you look at me...the way you look at me...I can hear how you feel about me when you're talking to me. You can't deny how you feel and you know it!"

I could my teacher trembling under my grip and my nervousness slipped away as I smiled triumphantly at him. A flickering glance downward told me that he was aroused and I ached to reach down and caress him. Mr. Hamilton licked his lips and said hoarsely, "Megan...I...can't deny that I have feelings for you -- that I care for you, but not this way. I...um, just...Megan, if I love...if I have feelings for you, it's the way a father feels about his daughter."

"HAH!" I cried even as I jumped into his lap, my mound landing against the large bulge in his pants. "If you have fatherly feelings for me, Mr. Hamilton, they're really naughty fatherly feelings. I know what I'm feeling right now..." I rolled my hips for emphasis -- my bare pussy rubbing wetly against his khaki covered erection. I leaned in close till our mouths were almost touching. "I know how you watch me everyday, watching my tight little ass as I walk away from you or appreciating my bare legs when you're lecturing and I sit in the front row. You look into my eyes and study my nose and my lips and wonder how it would feel to rub your cock over my skin and cum in my face."

"Megan..." he began to reply, his hands suddenly on my waist, sending a thrill through my body as he touched me for the first time.

I leaned in closer, my lips brushing his as I stared him in the eye while saying, "And it's more than sex. I can see how much you love me...I see how much you just flat out care for me every day!" I gave him a quick kiss on the lips, my mouth open and flicking my tongue on his mouth. "I know you love me, Mr. Hamilton!"

Suddenly I was in motion, almost flying through the air. Mr. Hamilton stood up, picking me up effortlessly like I was a child as he did so -- both surprising me and pissing me off. I was suddenly on my feet, Mr. Hamilton holding me at arms length. In a voice that was torn between anger and frustration, he said, "This just can't happen, Megan! It's not right! He spun me around and I squealed more in surprise than in pain as he slapped me on the ass! "Go home and get this nonsense out of your head!"




The Pursuit of a Teacher



I took a few steps forward and then looked over my head at him while lifting my skirt up to expose my naked butt cheeks which I rubbed. It stung, but in a good way that made my pussy almost glow with heat. "Ohhh, Mr. Hamilton, I didn't realize I much I'd like to be spanked by you." 

I spun around and walked backwards away from him as I brought my hand around to my front, lifting my skirt up to reveal my naked sex. I rubbed my fingers over my labia, spreading them slightly to show off my glistening pink flesh. "See how wet you make me, my naughty daddy-teacher." I grabbed my backpack off my student desk and slung it over my shoulder. "I can't wait for you to fuck me, Mr. Hamilton."

My teacher moaned and dropped his head as if suddenly unable to look at me. "Go home, Megan," he sighed.

I laughed and clapped my hands. "See -- that's progress, Mr. Hamilton. You didn't say 'no,' did you?" I shot him wink and blew him a kiss as I slipped out the door, feeling as if I was several steps closer to my goal. My last glimpse of him was staring down at the bulge in his pants, fingers hovering over it, but hesitant as he examined the wet spots I'd left there moments before.

#

Oh, I feel as if you are an eternal muse for me as I find myself constantly writing of the day we become lovers. My fingers fly across the keyboard as I imagining you taking me in so many wonderful ways. I can barely restrain myself from masturbating as I envision you taking me in the missionary position, my slender, but short legs spread wide, trying unsuccessfully to wrap around your waist as you plunge your long, thick dick into my wet and willing pussy. My cunt is like flame itself when I imagine myself kneeling submissively, my little butt in the air, cheeks spread by your strong hands as you take me roughly from behind. My leg muscles tremble with anticipation as I see myself squatting atop you, slowly impaling myself on your hard penis until I've taken as much of you as possible and then crying out in glorious orgasm as somehow you thrust upwards and bury yourself inside me.

I imagine you standing with me astride your cock, my arms and legs hanging limp and only your massive hard-on holding me up, making me cum with each step you take. I can see us in every possible position and you in every one of my openings and I dream of you being triplets -- each one feeding me cock...in my mouth, in my pussy and in my asshole, almost tearing me apart, but instead wreaking nothing but wonderful, carnal ecstasy on my behalf.

I long for the day that will come that will find us not bothering to rise from our bed of passion, your cock never leaving me...making me cum over and over again -- your lovely, hot semen filling my womb, my bowels and my belly...each climax declaring that I belong to you...each cry I make in orgasm being my confession to being yours body and soul.

Your resolve to resist me for my own good does nothing more than inflame my desire for you, making me kneel naked before God in supplication, praying that my destiny to be your lover...your mate...your wife, be fulfilled. I want you inside of me. I need you inside me. I must have you inside me. I will have you inside me.

My writings have moved you...each week, I can see your love and desire for me grow. I have painted portraits in words of how I feel...what I have to offer. Now, I will offer you more. I will etch who and what I am on your mind forever, where no paper shredder or delete button can erase my declaration of my love and lust for you.

It takes hours to accomplish, but with a modern digital camera, the sky is the limit in the options one has once one has figured out the mechanical details of operation and posing. First, a portfolio of pictures...dozens of pictures of me wearing everything from jeans and T-shirts to negligees to only my birthday suit. One of my favorites was a head shot of me, my hair hanging down below naked shoulders, my lips puckered and gently sucking on my forefinger while my eyes gaze upon you -- the love of my life. 

My absolute favorite is, I think, very erotic. I am sitting on a wooden kitchen chair, completely naked save for a pair of three inch black high heels and sheer black thigh-high hose. My legs are spread wide with my hands on my knees. My long, brown hair has been brushed until it nearly glows and hangs down forward, framing my face and my small breasts ending as it brackets my pussy which is blossomed in arousal from imagining the erection my pose will no doubt inspire in you. My cunt glistens with wetness between my parted labia. I personally think it is very erotic...almost obscene in its intensity. It conveys my love and lust for you perfectly.

Second, I set the camera to record video and then as I sit in that same kitchen chair, with my legs spread wide and back, I masturbate with my fingers as I tell you how much I love you and how much I lust for you and how good it will feel to have your big cock wedged inside my hot, wet and very tight pussy. I tell you nothing I haven't said before, but now you see the complete me...the me who bravely confesses her love for you while fingering herself into orgasm, imagining that it is your big, bad, daddy-teacher cock that makes me cry and scream with pleasure...pleasure that I want to make forever...a lovely dance of just us two.

#

Weeks have truly passed and I could see Mr. Hamilton's resolve crumble with each new naughty assault. September had passed into October and the Fall Break was upon us. I stood behind my teacher as he gazed in awe at the images my zip drive was conveying through his lap top. He murmurs over and over, "This has to stop, Megan. It's never going to happen." Still his fingers keep flickering over the controls, moving to each image as he gasps at some new lurid or lewd photograph of me.

I'm not sure that he's even aware that I'm massaging his tense shoulders as he watches the nearly thirty minutes of video of me declaring my love and lust for him while plunging up to three fingers up and inside my cunt. Looking over his shoulder, I have an excellent view to observe his penis harden, rising up steadily in his pants.

As my last moans of ecstasy fade and my video image straightens up in the chair -- my long hair now a bit unkempt, I hear Mr. Hamilton moan as I begin to lick my wet fingers of my juices and then stare at him through the scene. My lips move as my digital image speaks, silently echoing my own words.

"Mr. Hamilton. The time for fantasy is coming to an end. You cannot deny me...us, forever. After this Friday, we're on two weeks of Fall Break. On Sunday, at one o'clock sharp, you must drive out to Shyler's Falls out at the end of Shyler Mill Road -- you grew up here -- I know you know where it is. Nobody ever goes out there anymore except me. I go a lot to think and write and dream. Thirty feet above the falls on the hill there is a stand of trees including an ancient and massive oak. I will be waiting for you there. I'll pack a picnic lunch and a large blanket and all this terrible waiting and longing can come to an end."

My video image licked her fingers one last time, obscenely sucking her middle finger slowly between her tightly puckered lips. She stared out at Mr. Hamilton. "I love you and you love me. It's time we quit denying ourselves all the love and pleasure we have to offer each other. I'll be waiting, Mr. Hamilton, my love!" 

My teacher sat there silently staring into the now frozen image of myself naked on the screen, a sexy, yet beatific smile on my face. My fingers slipped from Mr. Hamilton's shoulders and around his upper body. He finally started as I kissed his earlobe and whispered, "I'll be waiting, Mr. Hamilton, my love!"

I sauntered away from him, swinging my plaid skirt covered ass saucily, halting only when I heard his strained voice rasp, "It will never happen. I will not be there, Megan!"

I turned and smiled gently at my soon to be lover. Feeling totally in control, I replied softly, "Yes you will, Mr. Hamilton." I pointed to the laptop and continued. "You can say no, but it's Wednesday and between now and Sunday, you'll look at my pictures and video a hundred times. You'll reread my essays and letters and masturbate to them and my...visual aides and my love, come Sunday, you will come to me and then we can begin loving and cumming together."

"You don't understand, Megan," Mr. Hamilton sighed. "You can't know that, Megan."

"Of course I can," I replied. I raised my schoolgirl skirt to reveal my naked pussy, plunging a finger into my wet flesh as I said, "I've always known it would happen. I knew it here..." I plunged two fingers inside my wet cunt for emphasis. I pulled them out, dripping with my juices and pressed them against my chest...against my heart, the creamy cum smearing on my white blouse. "And I know it here...in my heart where my love for you waits."

I began walking backwards towards the door, never taking my eyes off my future love. "And you know it too, Mr. Hamilton. You know it from the way your cock gets hard when you think of me...the way it is hard right now and you know it from how the thought of me makes you feel in your heart. You love me...once you say the words, it will get much easier.

I opened the door to his classroom and looked back one last time. "I love you, Mr. Hamilton." I winked at him and added, "I'll see you, Sunday, my love," and was gone leaving him alone to make the only decision he could make.

#

Time seems to stretch to almost infinite terms as those few days pass. I replay every conversation Mr. Hamilton and I have had since my pursuit of him began in earnest. I hear his denials of any feelings of attraction or love, but never discern a word of truth in them. I examine my feelings for him -- both lust and love, but cannot find an iota of self-delusion. I believe in true love. I believe in destiny. I believe we were...are destined to fall in love.

How could I not love him? He is the first human being to really open up the world to me -- speaking of literature and history and of the world as it actually is and has the potential to be. He has given me Shakespeare and Irving (both Washington and John), he gave me Mary Shelley and Walt Whitman and Alice Walker and Borges -- and the list goes on and on. Mr. Hamilton has shared his joy of the written word and the necessity to always stay true to oneself. He was the first to treat me as a thinking adult and I couldn't help but fall in love with him.

Yes, there are years between us. I am just turned eighteen...I can't even legally buy an alcoholic drink. He is fifty-four years old, but his soul is young and I feel it reaching out to me...needing me to complete him.

He is a good man. I did not have to stalk him to discover this. Being perceived as a child...and a shy and quiet one at that renders me invisible to most of the adult world. Since I was a freshman, I've heard others talk about him...both students and teachers. He is a private person with a sad life...married once to a terrible shrew who he suffered for nearly twenty years before she left him, leaving him in near financial ruin. He is a gentle and talented lover to hear Ms. Hemmings, our theater arts teacher talk about it. A vain and reckless woman, she found him not as she put it, "Enough of a bad boy to suit me." When I heard her confiding that to one of the newer teachers in their department, I wanted to run over and slap her for being so stupid.

Mr. Hamilton is a beautiful man...still in great shape for a man in his fifties. His black hair gradually turning a lovely shade of gray, I know he runs to keep his weight steady, although his build is more along the lines of a wrestler -- stocky and muscular without being overly so. The first time I say him jogging near the city park, I nearly had an orgasm and had to pull my car over...the way his leg muscles flexed as he ran, sent incendiary bursts of pleasure racing out from between my legs. 

He has a reputation for being stern but fair, although I doubt that few students beyond myself know what a wonderful teacher he is...one that would be missed when he's gone. Yes, I know that thirty six years separate us, but that is not an insurmountable gap -- I envision decades of passion and lust and love being shared by us. I will be his lover. I will give him babies...sons to carry on his name and daughters for him to dote over -- it makes me shiver with excitement and more than a little arousal to think of our children growing to adulthood, instilled with his wonderful virtues. 

Yes, I believe in love. I believe in destiny. I believe that Mr. Hamilton and I will truly live 'happily ever after!'

#

It was a beautiful day...the kind of Sunday that was meant for lazy lovemaking and cuddling under God's sky in the great outdoors. The sun hung brilliantly in the middle of a azure sky while the tall trees above the falls stirred in a gentle, cooling breeze as I arrived at Shyler's Falls, carefully negotiating my little car along the neglected dirt track that led from the gravel road towards the falls.

Shyler's Falls was one of those little wonders of nature that is so often forgotten in our computer age. A large stream ran over a cliff some thirty-five feet high into a pool below before gathering itself together to meander off southward. Above the falls towered a gathering of ancient trees that stood guardian to this almost magical place. 

I imagine that just a few generations back, it had been an oft visited place by randy teenagers and young families, but now was neglected. I'd discovered it two years ago after running across mention of it in an old newspaper while research a paper for ironically, Mr. Hamilton. In two years of coming out here to meditate or write or simply be alone with my increasingly passionate thoughts of my darling teacher, I have never encountered anyone.

To be perfectly honest, it was here, sitting under this mighty oak, that I first shucked off my jeans and panties, spread my legs and masturbated while imagining Mr. Hamilton fucking me, my screams filling the air as my fingers plunged and twirled in my wet pussy -- shocking me when I came so intensely that I ejaculated pussy juice nearly three feet, fertilizing the grass with the product of my love and lust.

I hiked up above the falls with a picnic basket in one hand and a thick quilt in the other. The quilt was a prized possession -- something my Granny Mills had given me before she passed away. My maternal grandmother had been the only other person I had felt was a kindred spirit...with a love of books that rivaled mine and a passion for her late husband, my grandfather, that I hoped I would experience with my soon to be lover. Granny Mills had given me the quilt, an heirloom from her grandmother... "From my wedding bed, sweetie. I leave it to you -- may you someday lay on it with the man of your heart and be half as happy as your grandpa and I have been."

At the base of my beloved tree, I spread the lovers' quilt and knelt slowly on it. I was wearing a short and strapless summer dress -- the elastic material clinging to my upper arms, but leaving my shoulders bare as well as my upper chest. I glanced down to confirm that my nipples were as hard as they felt, almost painful as they poked against the thin, silk material. I curled my bare legs underneath me, throwing my shoes off to the side. I'd dropped my wristwatch into the picnic basket before I'd left, but I didn't want to look and see if one o'clock had come and gone yet. Minutes blew away in the soft breeze that wafted through the trees as I waited and prayed, my ears perked to hear his approach.

"Do you have any clue how beautiful you really are?" 

I screamed as the words came seemingly out of the air, spinning around and falling back on my arms only to see Mr. Hamilton sitting in the crotch of an old, wizened apple tree's branches. He was wearing a sleeveless sweatshirt, jeans and old, battered sneakers, his peppered hair windblown.

"How...where did you come from?" I gasped. "You scared the shit out of me!"

Mr. Hamilton chuckled softly and said, "I've been here a while...watched you climb up the hill."

I scrambled to my feet, suddenly feeling foolish. "I never saw your car, Mr. Hamilton."

He shrugged his shoulders and replied, "There's more than one way to get to Shyler's Falls, Megan. I was coming here before you were born." He paused and shook his head and added, "Hell, I was coming here before your mother was born."

He looked around and said, "This is such a beautiful place. I'd pretty much forgotten that I and my friends used to come here to swim in the pool and to fish and just goof off." He looked down at me with his dark brown eyes, seeming to fix me in place with the intensity of his gaze. "When I was a teenager, I always thought this would be the perfect place to kiss my true love." He sighed and said in almost a whisper. "Never happened."

I felt my heart, already pounding powerfully, leap up into my throat. In a voice that sounded more confident than I suddenly felt, I said, "Well, not yet, but here's your chance, Mr. Hamilton." I held out my hand. "Could...would you come down to me please.

I watched as my teacher became stock still, staring down at me with an expression of such desperate desire that it nearly broke my heart. I silently willed him to be brave and daring and come down...to come into my arms. Mr. Hamilton took a deep breath and suddenly was there -- half sliding and half jumping from the tree to land with his knees bent and straightening up with a slight wince. 

"Are you okay," I said breathlessly, reaching out my hands to clasp his forearms as if to steady him.

"Can't make that jump like I used to, Megan, when I was your age," he replied with a slight chuckle. He didn't pull away from my grasp, but rotated his arms so that he could hold my forearms as well. His grip, firm, yet gentle, sent quiet ripples of ecstasy through me. "I'm an old coot, Megan. Are you sure you want to waste your love on an old fool like me?"

I stepped up and into him, putting his face between my hands, subtly pulling his head down towards me. "You are not old, Mr. Hamilton. You are not a coot and you are not a fool!" I pressed my body against his, hoping that it wasn't simply imagination that made me think that he was hard beneath those jeans -- that it was his erect cock pressing against my belly.

There was anger and exasperation in my voice as I hissed, "You are the man I love, Mr. Hamilton. My heart belongs to you, today and forever. I want to fuck you. I want to marry you and have your babies and we will, by fucking God, live happily ever after!"

I could see the fear in his eyes bleeding away, only to be replaced by wonder and maybe amusement. "Mr. Hamilton, if you don't kiss me right now, I will simply die!" I moaned, my voice edged still with a touch of anger.

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" he whispered and then the world began to spin as his arms seemed to envelop me and lift me and his lips were on mine as my arms went around his neck. I felt his tongue brush between my lips and I opened my mouth wide, thrusting my own tongue forward and then we were kissing as lovers should, tongues twirling and dancing, curling about as we tasted each other.

I felt Mr. Hamilton's hands pulling me closer as they slid down my back and I trembled as I felt his fingers slip underneath my short dress and cup my naked butt cheeks, murmuring approvingly at my naughty lack of panties while I drew my legs up around his waist, unable to encircle his body with my slender, but short legs. I dug my heels into his flanks to help him in supporting my body, but I knew he would never drop me. For the first time since I was a little girl, I didn't mind being picked up like a child. In his solid grasp, I felt loved, safe and incredibly aroused.




The Pursuit of a Teacher



Time seemed to stand still, the world an almost silent cathedral in which we kissed...the only noises being the leaves rustling in the breeze, the muted roar of the falls below us and the wet and sweet noises of our deep and passionate kiss. I became lost in the long yearned for sensation of his lips on mine, his tongue teasing and darting in my mouth and the taste of his saliva that was somehow utterly him.

Somewhere during that wonderful first kiss, Mr. Hamilton lowered us to the quilt, going to his knees and then gently easing me onto my back and stretching out alongside me. I was jarred out of the bliss I was feeling as I suddenly became conscious of his hand on my stomach, slowly caressing me in a circular motion, his fingers trailing paths through the silky material. I trembled underneath him as his hand slid below my stomach, but above my mound only to circle up and just brush the edges of my small breasts.

Suddenly unable to breathe, I broke the kiss and said as I gasped for air, "I love you so much, Mr. Hamilton!" I reached out and guided his hand to my left breast, his palm resting against the hard nub of my swollen nipple. "Feel my heart, darling. Feel how it beats so fast for you." I curled into him, one of my slim legs slipping between his denim clad thighs and then pressing upward until I could confirm the pulsating beast that lurked between his legs under that denim. I glanced down our bodies and saw a gap between his jeans and sweatshirt and slipped my hand through and up to caress his chest, feeling his hair pass through and entangle amidst my fingers.

I felt his shirt give way as I worked my arm up, almost gasping as my fingers brushed over his nipple, pebbled and hard as mine. I glanced upwards to his face, seeing his gentle smile beaming down at me and he said, "Megan, I love you. I'm sorry it's taken this long to admit it, but I do adore you and love you with all my heart."

Even as long as I had dreamed and fantasized about this moment, I was unprepared for the impact his words had on me. Suddenly, I burst into tears, both relief and joy almost overwhelming me as I finally heard him utter those wonderful words. When his eyes widened in concern, I shook my head and said, "I love you. I love you, I love you!" and kissed him again, throwing myself into him with such force that suddenly I was astride him, reworking my leg to straddle him...my wet and aroused pussy slipping around on his bare stomach. 

As our tongues danced and dueled, I was feverishly grinding myself against him...the hem of my dress working its way even as his hands again cupped my ass cheeks, squeezing them and spreading them apart. Mr. Hamilton's fingers trailed down the crack of my ass, making me moan as fingertips brushed over my asshole and then further down until they teased over my spread labia, stroking my wet cunt flesh.

Knowing it was him...my beloved teacher, touching me in my most intimate place triggered a brief but violent orgasm and I sat up, sobbing with pleasure, quivering and wiggling my ass on his stomach, my mouth opening and closing without forming words until finally my pleasure addled mind allowed me to moan, "Make me naked, Mr. Hamilton! I want to be naked for my daddy-teacher!"

Mr. Hamilton's eyes grew wide and wild and he sat up, his hands moving in a blur, raising and pulling my dress over my head and flinging it away behind him. His eyes and hands were all over me, his palms coming up to cover and then squeezing my small breasts before he leaned in and said, "You are so beautiful, Megan," before he placed his mouth over my right nipple and began to suck and lick it while I moaned with pleasure and run my fingers through his salt and pepper hair.

His tongue eventually trailed across my small chest to tongue and suck my left nipple, teasing me with little nips of his teeth, making me gasp as each flicker of pain translated into great bursts of pleasure. Suddenly, his hands were on my waist and I was lifted off his lap and onto my feet. Mr. Hamilton scrambled to his knees, now kneeling before my naked body.

"So beautiful," Mr. Hamilton breathed, his hands on my waist. "So soft," he continued as his hands slipped around, "So warm...ohhhh, Megan!" he sighed as his fingers brushed against my labia, expertly and gently spreading my lips apart as one fingertip rolled up and down my wet pussy.

"All because of you, Mr. Hamilton. I think of you and I get soooo wet!"

"Sweet Megan," he whispered and then before I could respond, Mr. Hamilton pressed his face into my pussy, sending an incredible ecstatic shock through me, my knees going weak even as I felt his tongue race up the length of my pussy!

"Ohhhh yes, that's it, my teacher-daddy!" I moaned, my body simply overflowing with pleasure. I clutched at his shoulders, fingers plucking at the collar of his sweatshirt and then stroking his neck and up through his hair. His mouth felt incredible on my pussy, in scant seconds teaching me secrets about myself, his tongue somehow discovering sweet spots between my legs before scraping so sinfully sweet over my emerged bud of a clitoris.

"OMIGOD!" I screamed, startling birds in the trees around us, an orgasm stronger than any I had ever experienced making me convulse in Mr. Hamilton's grasp. Everything began to swirl around me and I seemed to go weightless as ecstasy beyond my wildest dreams rocked my world. When my head seemed to clear...at least as much as it could considering I had Mr. Hamilton's tongue rolling maddeningly around my cunt, I was shocked to find myself literally sitting on his shoulders, my cunt grinding against his face and legs draped over those broad shoulders -- my heels kicking wildly against his back while his hands cupped my ass cheeks.. 

As I writhed against Mr. Hamilton's loving mouth and tongue, I could feel his hands massaging my ass cheeks, opening and spreading them, a finger teasing my asshole, making me feel nasty and wicked in a way that fueled my arousal to a higher level. His tongue felt so wonderful, delving deep inside my flesh, scouring my pussy walls of my copious juices -- my teacher making hungry, slurping noises as he lapped my wet pussy while his recently shaved cheeks, already growing scratchy rubbed deliciously against my hairless pussy. 

Another orgasm began to swell within me and I began to beg him, "Fuck me, Mr. Hamilton...don't make me wait anymore. Fuck me, claim me as your woman...your wife...your little nasty girl!" He ignored my pleas as I gushed pussy juice into his mouth, my orgasm building and building until as his tongue tortured my clitoris with carnal expertise, I began to gray out.

Coming to, I was again on my feet, Mr. Hamilton's hands holding me up as he kissed me, smearing my lips with my own juices as our tongues danced. With a snarl, I began tugging at his clothes, yanking his sweatshirt up so I could shower his chest with kisses, running my tongue over his hard nipples. "I want you naked, Mr. Hamilton," I panted as he finished the job of ripping his shirt over his head while I fumbled at his belt, almost screaming with frustration as my fingers worked the leather out of the buckle.

"Yes!" I crowed in triumph as I finally undid the button on his jeans and unzipped them. Mr. Hamilton laughed as I yanked and tugged his jeans down, reaching out to pull his boxers down as he stepped back and kicked his legs free of his pants along with his shoes. "C'mere, teacher-daddy! I want your cock!" I said as I staggered after him, falling to my knees as I hook the waistline of his shorts and pulled them down.

Even as I tried to take in the enormity of my teacher's erect penis, it slapped me in the face as I gasped, reaching out to take it in my hands. I had dreamed and suspected he was huge, but nothing prepared me for holding a cock in my hands for the first time! I was in awe of how long and thick Mr. Hamilton's cock was and I was again on the verge of tears as I knew that it was hard just for me!"

"You are so big and beautiful, Mr. Hamilton!" I gasped as I stroked up and down his long shaft, my fingers not quite long enough to wrap completely around his throbbing meat. The head was dark and swollen, his slit dripping with fluid -- I opened my mouth and tried to get the whole crown of his cock inside even as I flicked my tongue out to taste his slightly bitter pre-cum. The sound of my teacher moaning in pleasure because of my mouth, triggered a groundswell of ecstasy between my legs, a gush of my juices splattering my thighs and his ankles.

My facial muscles were complaining, but I got Mr. Hamilton's cock head in my mouth, my tongue fluttering madly, trying to memorize his taste even as I vowed that never again would a day pass without his cock in my mouth. He slipped free of my lips and I rubbed my face against the dripping crown and then over his shaft, my tongue extending to lick his long pole like a frozen pop.

Mr. Hamilton moaned and stepped back. "Careful now, sweetheart. I think I might be on a hair trigger."

I giggled and fell back onto the quilt, pulling my knees back and spreading them wide. "It's time, then, Mr. Hamilton. I want you to fuck me...be my first man. Please, put that big cock in me and make me your woman!"

My teacher stared down at me, breathing heavily, the dew of my pussy glistening on the shadow of his beard. "I love you, Megan," he said in a lusty, hungry voice. He fell between my legs, his hands gripping my hips as he leaned forward and kissed me, again sharing my own tastes with me as his tongue slipped between my lips.

My whole body began to shake with excitement and maybe a little fear as I felt his huge, blunt weapon of a cock, drag along my inner thigh and settle heavily on my abdomen as I kissed Mr. Hamilton. My fingers clawed at his back and shoulders while my hips shifted back and forth, undulating against his solid body. "I love you, Mr. Hamilton...please fuck me now...love me and fuck me!"

My teacher raised himself up on his arms and he lowered his body downwards, the head of his cock sliding against my belly and then over my shaved mound to pause between the lips of my pussy. I could feel my labia fluttering, wanting to kiss his erect penis and swallow it. Mr. Hamilton looked down between us as the thick head of his cock gently probed my flesh, almost instinctively finding the entrance of my cunt. 

As his long and thick cock poised on the precipice of entering me, he looked up and into my eyes and said, "Last chance to turn back, Megan. I won't...can't stop after this."

I felt so much love for my teacher then, more than I had thought possible. Even now, amidst the riot of his own desires, his primary focus was still my happiness. "Yes, darling," I whispered. "I don't want you to ever stop. Make me a woman now...fuck me, Mr. Hamilton, fuck me now!"

I began to fling my hips upwards only to have my breath ripped away as he plunged downward, his thick cock slowly slipping inside me -- filling me, expanding me as I had not thought possible. Any remnants of my hymen left after years of self play and experimentation were gone and there was very little pain from that, but as Mr. Hamilton's thick meat spread my flesh wide, I understood finally the razor thin line that existed between pleasure and pain.

I flung my legs wider, feeling my inner thigh muscles protest as I tried to open myself as much as possible, my mind almost refusing to believe that my pussy could contain something so massive. My mouth opened in a silent scream as inch after inch of Mr. Hamilton's cock wormed its way into me and I began to see glittering lights before finally I was able to take in a deep, desperate breath and finally exhale with a scream of disbelief, pain and absolute pleasure.

Mr. Hamilton paused in his efforts at the intensity of my cries and as alarming as my first time felt, I said in a quavering sob, "Oh fuck me...don't stop, Mr. Hamilton, please don't FUCKING STOP!" I emphasized my need for him to keep filling me with his cock by somehow summoning the wherewithal to fling my pelvis upwards, impaling myself with almost another inch of his cock...the effort leaving me sobbing like a baby and continuing to whimper, "Don't stop, Mr. Hamilton, keep fucking me, please!"

"I...ummm, I don't think I can," gasped Mr. Hamilton as he leaned in to kiss the tears off my face. "You feel so fantastic...so hot and wet and fucking tight, Megan, I want to stay inside you forever." His lips found mine and we kissed passionately as he continued to steadily thrust downward until I wondered how I would hold all of his wonderful throbbing cock!

Suddenly in addition to the sensation of filling as if my pussy would come apart in orgasmic fury, my eyes widened as I felt a new sensation -- my bald mound being scratched by something thick and wiry. I moaned, breaking the kiss while Mr. Hamilton chuckled in a voice that was filled with both happiness and disbelief, "You have all of me, Megan. You took all of my cock."

He rose up to allow me to try and look down, my pelvic region lifted up, hoisted and joined to his crotch with just a hint of his shaft peeking out around my widespread labia. "OmiGOD!" I cried out as Mr. Hamilton gently rolled his hips, making his cock just minutely shift back and forth, the hint of friction suggesting even more unsuspected levels of pleasure!

Mr. Hamilton began to slowly withdraw and thrust, barely sliding more than an inch or two of his erection inside me, but within scant seconds, I went mad with carnal pleasure -- my arms and legs flailing wildly as I convulsed madly beneath my teacher's naked body.

There was pain intertwined with the ecstasy that I was experiencing, but it only served to enhance the pleasure rather than detract from it -- the sensations so intense, I thought my body would fly apart unable to contain it.

Mr. Hamilton moaned in counterpart with my sobs and cries for maybe a minute before he shuddered and gasped, "Fuck...no, no, no. So sweet, so tight and perfect...FUCK, I can't help...CUMMMING!" He let loose with a bellow and rocked into me, nearly taking my breath away and then I was screaming with utter pleasure as I felt his incredibly thick cock swell even more and then there was a fierce, liquid heat filling my insides.

My eyes fluttered and I moaned wordlessly as pleasure reduced me to near madness amidst the realization that for the first time in my life, my womb was being flooded with a man's hot semen...specifically, that Mr. Hamilton was flooding my virgin womb with his hot semen! I imagined his sperm, a thick fountain of boiling white seed filling my insides until it leaked from every opening...cumming so much inside me that I could almost taste it. I could see a tidal wave of hot semen flooding over me, turning everything completely white and for maybe a moment or for an eternity, my whole world became nothing but hot, baby-making semen...a blanket of carnal white.

I came back to myself, feeling Mr. Hamilton atop me, panting for breath, his body trembling with effort as I lay underneath him, legs splayed wide and quivering and aching from exertion. My own orgasm still echoed from between my legs, never far from rising up and erupting again as I became aware of the birds and squirrels chittering in the trees, making commentary on the furious, carnal activity below them. Then, I could hear Mr. Hamilton whispering over and over, "I love you, Megan."

"I love you too, Mr. Hamilton!" I murmured, bringing my shaking arms up around his neck, kissing his chest and neck before he lifted his head from my shoulder. His slightest movements made my body convulse with orgasmic energy and I felt my hips momentarily leave the quilt as he adjusted, making me suddenly aware that he was still completely erect and jammed tight inside my cunt!

"You...you're still hard, Mr. Hamilton," I whispered in a hoarse voice filled with disbelief and awe."

He raised his head enough to show me his gratified grin and kissed me on the tip of my pert nose. "I'm surprised too, Megan...must be your fault. I think you maybe be my fountain of youth." He shifted slightly, his cock lubricated by my own juices and his semen moving slightly within me, making me cry out with sexual pleasure. He frowned a little and said, "Should I...do you want me to pull out, baby?"

My mind reeled as I tried to sort out all my emotions...the knowledge that I finally had Mr. Hamilton inside me and that my body was quivering from an overdose of pure carnal ecstasy...my muscles sweetly aching with exertion, my pussy burning with a wildfire of sexual pleasure and my nipples aching from being so incredibly engorged with blood. 

Having processed all that my body was experiencing and how my mind felt about all this incredible pleasure and having finally fulfilled my longtime dream of having my beloved teacher as my lover, I sighed happily and squirmed underneath my man and said, "Absolutely not...Mr. Hamilton. I want you to keep on fucking me and make me cum while you put your hot, baby-making seed in my pussy!"

Mr. Hamilton let out a deep breath and smiled. "You know, now that I've got my cock inside you, you can call me by my first name. You can call me John."

I giggled and gave him a wicked smile. "I know, but I like calling you Mr. Hamilton...I'm getting fucked by my sexy teacher and that's so wicked and sinful and hot!" I wiggled my hips, nearly fainting with pleasure in the process. "Please fuck me some more, Mr. Hamilton!"

"My pleasure, sweetheart," Mr. Hamilton grunted and then I began to cry out as he began to really work his cock in and out of me, his hands gripping my hips for leverage as he began to thrust in and out of my pussy. My fingers clawed at his shoulders and back as he rocked atop me as his long thick meatstick wormed back and forth in my cunt, forcing out a flood of mixed pussy cream and semen with each steady stroke -- my sobs and groans escalating each time I felt his massive cock head poke my cervix. 

Out of the intense pleasure came orgasm that rendered me limp and lifeless, my arms falling away spreading wide along with my legs as I felt my torso jerk and convulse as fiery ecstasy overwhelmed me, never quite ceasing even as the intensity retreated. I felt myself becoming almost weightless in the wonder of Mr. Hamilton's steady loving thrusts.

I felt my pleasure beginning to grow again when without warning, my teacher suddenly swept his arms out to catch my legs and raised them up and to his shoulders, my pussy having no choice but to tighten even more around his moving shaft. My heels kicked against his shoulders as he leaned into me, almost curling me into a ball of cumming flesh, and slightly picking up speed.

I began to orgasm even more powerfully than ever. As gouts of ecstatic fury tore through me, I screamed and drooled and wept and writhed as my body seemed to catch fire with the intense pleasure of his never ceasing thrusts, finally and totally understanding the mean of truly being 'fucked' and 'fucked well!'

I became lost in a sea of orgasmic love which suddenly grew stormy and stronger as I felt Mr. Hamilton pick up his pace and his moans penetrated my universe of orgasm until he shoved himself deep inside me and began to cum again. As again, my womb was bathed and filled with his thick, hot semen, I felt myself being ripped asunder by orgasmic ecstasy...my body melting in wave after wave of intense fiery pleasure until all that remained was a bodiless consciousness wrapped in heavenly delight, knowing only the love that I shared with Mr. Hamilton...my teacher, my man, my lover...

#

I awoke from a deep sleep, feeling sore and happy and more contented than I could have imagined. I was face down atop Mr. Hamilton's strong body, my legs splayed out on each side of his torso while my face nuzzled his neck. His arms were wrapped around my body and I could feel his now flaccid, but still sizable penis lying wetly under my left thigh.




The Pursuit of a Teacher



I drew a shuddery breathe, shifting slightly, my battered and sensitive cunt rubbing against Mr. Hamilton's stomach and making me shiver with orgasmic aftershocks. "You're awake, Megan," Mr. Hamilton said softly and I raised my head up to find his smiling face. "Hi."

"Hi," I replied in a quiet voice. 

He reached out and tugged a long and sweaty strand of my hair off my face. "Are you okay, Megan? You had me worried for a few minutes. No regrets?"

The enormity of the moment swamped over me as I brought myself up to speed. I was lying naked on top of my equally naked teacher who was three times my age -- suddenly aware that from my pleasantly aching pussy, his semen was slowly dripping out. Months and years of fantasy, yearning and planning had finally culminating in all of it becoming reality. For a second, I wondered what my response should be, but in the next, I felt myself begin to sob as I cried out, "I'm wonderful! I love you so much and you...you love me too, don't you, Mr. Hamilton?"

I hugged myself to him, my tears flowing across his face as we kissed and he stroked my arms and shoulders and back soothingly and softly replied between kisses, "Yes...maybe its wrong, but I love you, Megan...I love you more than I ever thought I could love a woman."

His words comforted me and in the sweet warmth of that fall afternoon, we cuddled and talked about our future together...me sharing my fantasies of what was to come and Mr. Hamilton calmly adding his thoughts and suggestions. Our ideas meshed together almost as perfectly as our bodies seemed to fit together.

I wanted badly to fuck my teacher one more time that wonderful Sunday, but I found myself terribly sore and unable to take his cock again. Still, I found myself riding another tidal wave of powerful orgasms as Mr. Hamilton had me ride his face and he showed me how truly talented his tongue was. I bucked and writhed on his mouth and his soothing, yet sinfully talented tongue as he kissed and licked my tender flesh, teasing and taunting my slick labia and semen coated pussy flesh and throbbing clitoris to orgasm after orgasm.

Not to be outperformed, I eventually squirmed around on his body and as Mr. Hamilton made love to me with his mouth, I began to learn to orally please him as well, coaxing his mighty cock to a third erection and lovingly sucking and licking him until finally as I saw him struggle to control and restrain his orgasm, I looked up into his eyes and said, "Mr. Hamilton, please give me your cum. I want you to spray your semen all over your little girl's face!"

I could hear the birds taking flight again from the trees around us as he cried out in complete and utter joy while his cock jerked and sprayed hot semen all over my face and I learned the pleasure of tasting his seed and feeling the steaming, life giving fluid running down my face.

And so it began...our love affair, both passionate and secret...at least at first. I wept with sadness as I watched him pull away from my house after seeing me home, daring to come to my car and kiss me goodnight both tenderly and passionately as the first day of our lives together came to an end.

Our hours apart were unbearable...those moments in class when we could not be ourselves sheer torture. We tried to be cautious and careful and through the rest of Fall semester, we tried to spend as much time together as we could, both of us shocked to discover how insatiable our need for each other was and how reckless that desire could make us. Mr. Hamilton tried to keep his hands off me in school, but more than once, our school day ended with his cock inside me and his mouth on mine, squelching my sobs of pleasure as he fucked me atop his desk or I rode his lovely cock while we sat in his chiar behind his desk..

The end of December came with two surprises. First -- Mr. Hamilton shocked everyone by submitting his resignation, having accepted a position in a small college back east in upstate New York. Second -- I took early graduation, ignoring my mother's and my counselor's entreaties to graduate with my class and walk the stage with my classmates in the spring. 

I'm sure there was some gossiping when in January, we left together for New York, pausing for a weekend in a quaint West Virginia town to get married by a justice of the peace who looked a little dubious at our age differences, but who's wife sealed the deal by saying we were the cutest little couple and reminding her husband that her own mother had been a child bride of seventeen and that her father was sixty-one when she'd been born. As we drove north, it was hand in hand, both of us feeling as if we'd slipped into a fairy tale in which we would live happily ever after.

#

The autumn leaves fall all around us as we stroll up the tree lined street, little Thomas crowing happily as his small chubby hands try to catch the golden leaves, stretching his arms skyward from the stroller. His brilliant blue eyes and shock of black hair offer testimony to his parentage.

I push the stroller with one hand while I run a hand over the swollen bump of my stomach. My French Lit book peeks out from the stroller's storage pack, swaying gently as I walk us along while my equally swollen breasts, nipples more sensitive than ever, press against my tightly clinging sweater as we move along.

Suddenly, Thomas screams out in gleeful joy, "Daddy!" 

I look up and grin. We are in front of Cooper Hall and Mr. Hamilton...my husband is walking towards us, having just finished speaking to two of his colleagues, both who are looking beyond him at his young wife and child with some considerable envy. There has been no small amount of gossip about Professor Hamilton and his child bride since we arrived almost three years ago, but we are both accepted here. I am in my second year of college -- a little behind schedule thanks to the arrival of our first child, but I am happy -- studying, writing my poetry and short stories while loving my son and my husband and excited about the arrival of our daughter later this winter.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Hamilton," I say as my husband takes me in his arms and gives me a big kiss after bending down and hugging and kissing our son.

Good afternoon, Mrs. Hamilton," he replies, making me feel all warm and gooey between my legs. I am still amazed that even though I have always been a horny little slut, being pregnant makes me an absolute nymphomaniac. Now, halfway through my second pregnancy, I am nearly insatiable in my constant desire to have my husband's cock in me. "How's your day been?"

"Busy," I reply. "But the French Lit class was fun and Mrs. Teegarden at the day care center tells me Thomas has been bouncing off the walls all day." I squeeze Mr. Hamilton's hand and look at him coyly with my big blue eyes before adding, "I imagine he's about ready for a nap...a nice long nap."

My words and their true meaning are not wasted on my husband and he smiles and as we walk busses me on the cheek, murmuring, "Well, then, Megan...I suppose we should be taking a...nap too."

"Or something," I say, releasing his hand and without glancing down, reaching over and caressing his crotch, happy to already feel his thick monster awakening and not caring if anyone saw me acting so wantonly. We smile at each other, my beloved teacher and husband and lover and we walk happily down the leaf strewn avenue to where our house and our bed awaits and I can already envision the two of us in bed, Mr. Hamilton between my widespread thighs, making love, fucking...living the fairy tale...living happily ever after.

The End



The Pursuit of Manliness



It was patently evident to Colonel Nesmith Norman what the nawab was so clumsily suggesting. The pretty girl who was being presented to him and who was one of the nawab’s many daughters borne to him no doubt by one of his many wives was fully at Colonel Norman’s disposal should he so desire. This had become one of the many acknowledged perquisites in a career in Her Majesty’s Services Overseas, particularly to be expected when one had the power to bring advantage to one of Her Majesty’s imperial subjects. But the colonel pretended not to understand.

“She is indeed a pretty maiden,” Colonel Norman agreed. “A fine match for any husband, I’m sure. But I think you’ll find that everything is already in order, sir. Would there be anything else you desire me to know?”

The nawab seemed slightly flustered, perhaps attributing to the colonel the mythical reserve and prudence of his Christian overlords. Of course, as Colonel Norman knew, had the nawab presented one of his fine sons, whose manly frames stood behind their father, their bare breasts gleaming the keen musculature of youth and exercise, then the colonel’s detachment would surely have deserted him. But the colonel was too wise to expose his sexual preferences to any of Her Majesty’s minions, who must see only the incorruptibility of the imperial rule he represented. If only manliness were not also defined in terms of the objects of a man’s desire as well as by the manliness of the man himself, then Colonel Norman was surely as much a man as any man could ask for. 

As the nawab departed, perhaps content that his daughter could be offered afresh to another man, Colonel Norman’s eyes followed the bodies of the nawab’s sons, his penis twitching with desire. If only those boys knew what it was he had hidden in his britches, who knows? Perhaps they would have surrendered to him the flavour and firmness of their bodies. A slight perspiration crossed the colonel’s brow arising not only from the damnably wretched heat of this corner of Her Majesty’s dominion. Those bare muscular torsos. The sun glancing off the hairless abdomens. They may be dark-skinned, but as Colonel Norman had discovered for the price of just a few paisa in the Calcutta slums, the colour of the skin in no way lessened the quality of a man’s body or his sexual receptiveness.

God damn my eyes! swore the colonel to himself. He needed manual relief or something stronger after having tarried so long in the company of such fine-looking young men. But fortunately there were sufficient young men of similar proclivity serving Her Majesty abroad that such relief was never far to find.

The colonel retreated to his quarters, a relatively large room at the back of the barracks, within sight of his command, but a room sizeable enough for two serving officers of his rank. This was another perquisite of Foreign Service, which came with the many servants and the low cost of living. If only there were fewer of those damnable flies and mosquitoes! And so often the colonel longed for a decent spread of roast beef, instead of the rice-based meals that the coolies prepared for him.

What he needed more than even the most succulent roast beef, served with swede or potatoes, with a side helping of offal, was a very different kind of meat. But a meat that was thankfully within easy reach of a colonel who well knew how to apprise his men. And the man most fit for his carnal appetite at the moment was Corporal Knight, a first-rate swarthy fellow, who was most gracious to respond immediately to his superior officer’s call, passed along to him by one of the colonel’s servants. Colonel Norman gazed at his servant, young Namid, as he scurried away to summon the corporal. His servants were such measly weak fellows, not blessed, as the Nawab’s sons were, with a diet that could build up their muscles to manly proportions. They were instead wiry, if strong. But even were the colonel to think well of carnal relations with his servants, he knew also how ill the natives oftentimes accepted it when one of their own was buggered by a servant to Her Imperial Majesty. Far safer, and indeed far more dignified, to exercise one’s bodily desires with one of one’s own kind.

“You called, sir!” said Corporal Knight, a muscular, lithe fellow, with golden blond hair and more than a trace of his Geordie accent remaining after his years of service for the Crown.

“At ease, corporal. It is service of an agreeable kind for which I have called you. If, that is, you have a mind for it?”

The corporal smiled grimly, seeing from his senior’s recumbent pose, his shirt undone and his britches unbuttoned, exactly what service was required.

“I have a mind for it, sir. Indeed I do. I saw those fine fellows who accompanied the Nabob bobbin fellow, and I had half a mind myself to seek out a junior with whom to relieve myself. But with you, sir, it is always the greatest pleasure.”

Words were not needed, and would even be unwelcome, as the two men hurriedly divested themselves of their military attire, revealing ripples of muscle on sculpted ribs, tight abdominals of washboard beauty, hard supple flesh and muscle, and then collapsed onto the colonel’s camp bed to press their compact naked bodies against each other. Firm. Hard. Rippled. Tense. Their mouths met. Moustache against moustache, corporal against colonel, tongue entwined in tongue, and sweat admixed with sweat.

And the climax of all the groping and foreplay, after a scant few minutes while the blood engorged the organs, there they were: two penises, erect and pulsing. One slightly bent and somewhat thick, the glans easily pushing back the foreskin and pulling taut at the hairy scrotum in which his balls were straining to release, but not quite yet, the fruits of Onan’s seed. And the colonel’s own, much prouder even than his corporal’s, a goodly length, perhaps a whole foot in length when erect, correctly proportioned and throbbing with energy and unreleased spunk. The colonel was proud of his member, his Peter, his John Thomas, his manhood, his pride and joy, a marvel for anyone, but especially another man whose tastes were attuned to the glory of manly abundance.

And then, the corporal took the colonel’s penis in his mouth, the whole of it unlikely to get far inside, relishing its mighty masculinity, as throbbing and as proud as any part of a man, his moustache brushing against the length of it, while the colonel stood up, holding the corporal’s head in his broad palms, his fingers running through the thick mass of blond hair, using the ears as handles to secure the head in place, his manhood sucked and licked and nibbled as energetically as the corporal could. 

Of course, rank meant that Colonel Norman would not be able to take the corporal’s penis into his own mouth. Nor could it ever be permitted that he be the recipient of the glorious act of sodomy that culminated every session of lovemaking. This was only right and proper, although there was never a written law of conduct relating to homosexual acts in the British Imperial Army. A colonel can bugger a corporal, but a corporal could never bugger a colonel. Similarly, a lieutenant could bugger a sergeant but never a sergeant a lieutenant. And for that matter, Corporal Knight could bugger his infantrymen, but they could never bugger him.

And so too, today. Corporal Knight assumed the position, Colonel Norman behind him, his huge member prised for action, swelling with lust and desire, and then straight into Corporal Knight’s patient anus, a hole designed for so much more than defecation, and pleasured by the prostrate gland, nature’s bounty not bequeathed on the weaker sex. And with pleasure there is always pain, as Colonel Norman knew well, but in this case, the pleasure was all his as he pounded away in the willing orifice, lubricated by the shared saliva of the two soldiers, and the pain was almost entirely the corporal’s, whose anus had to accommodate a much larger member than God had perhaps originally intended when he designed it to take as well as to give. 

Sometimes, and this was one of those times, Colonel Norman wondered what it might be like to be on the receiving end of lust. It was such a long time since he served with a more senior officer than he, possessed of similar appetites. He had near forgotten what reciprocal love was like. His own anus had received only what he chose to insert of his making, and he was sure it had now lost the elasticity it once had when he was the darling of senior officers or indeed when he was at school and gladly allowed the prefects to take their turns on his recumbent arse. Although, ironically, it was not his arse, but his magnificent proof of manliness that had made him so popular. Indeed, Colonel Norman was not so vain as to not recognize that his rapid ascent through the ranks to colonel in this quiet posting in the great subcontinent owed a great deal to the willingness he had shown in satisfying the carnal lust of his superiors and to the true splendour of his manhood.

But as Colonel Norman was aware, as he pushed frantically into Corporal Knight’s arse, one hand gripping his subordinate’s penis, and his other holding himself up against falling over, he was the most senior officer in this posting and it was not likely he would again meet more senior officers until he was transferred to a more challenging posting. Out here in a province few, including him, could properly pronounce, and which could only be reached by several days’ very slow steam train ride and a day’s ride on a wagon, there was no one who could service his arse.

And then both corporal and colonel ejaculated simultaneously, semen spurting from two penises, one, the corporal’s, free and able to arc high into the air and onto the wooden floor, whilst the colonel’s was released into the corporal’s arse, from whence it would soon bubble out and ooze down his legs. And then long after anal intercourse was just a memory, there might be a trace of semen in the corporal’s shit, wisps of manhood’s fruit scattered in the chamber pot as he adjusted his night gown, perhaps before sharing his bed with one of his privates: perhaps even young Private Godley, who was indeed a Godly looking fellow and whose arse had often been the object of the colonel’s own pleasuring.

After their energetic tryst, colonel and corporal lay collapsed on the colonel’s bed, the weave matting beneath the mattress being just stout enough to support two manly fellows and indulged in the small conversation that happened so rarely between soldiers and only made possible by the inexplicable emotion of unmanly tenderness that overtakes a fellow after he has released his seed. 

“So, is it true, sir, that we are to have two colonels soon?”

“Two colonels, Corporal Knight? Just what do you mean? Is this some devilish riddle with which you entrance me?”

“Have you not heard then, sir? It is said that there will be another colonel serving here. It’s because they intend to bring the railway nearer this town. The Nabobs and the rest have been very eager on this. And with more commerce, comes more need for authority. And so, sir, there is need for more people in authority.”

“No, I had not heard, corporal. Is this not always the way that the news travels? First to those fellows who need to know the least before it reaches the one who most needs to know.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I thought you already knew.”

“You’re excused, corporal. But I best investigate it myself. There are many false rumours spread throughout the empire and the furthest from Her Majesty the Queen the more false and unfounded these rumours must be.”

Colonel Norman wondered whether he didn’t actually welcome more companionship. Another colonel would be fair company. Too often, he felt forlorn by virtue of having no one of similar rank with which to share confidences. But on the other hand, he knew only too well that a bare minority of his fellows in the armed forces took a sympathetic position towards the mutual exercise of manly lust between men. This was a sizeable minority, needless to say, but one that had to remain discreet, as there were others in the ranks who could ruin a man’s military future simply because his pursuit of manliness extended beyond duty to the Crown and the rigours of military engagement.

His anxiety was heightened further by the simple reflection that in the military compound there was unlikely to be a bending of the rules that specified that officers of the rank of colonel or below should share a room with another of the same rank, unless the accommodation were not sufficiently substantial for two such officers to share. And it was clear to Colonel Norman as he surveyed his bedroom, that there was plenty of spare space to accommodate another colonel.

When Colonel Nigel Nichols arrived, he was without doubt a fine specimen of a man and pleased indeed to discover such a handsome room to share with Colonel Norman. His last boarding in the deep jungles of Southern India had been hellish and cramped. Only the death rate kept the predicament of overcrowding at bay. But, as far as Colonel Norman could see, Colonel Nichols had escaped the ravages of malaria and other tropical illnesses wholly unscathed.

“So what do fellows do of an evening, Norman?” Colonel Nichols asked of his fellow roommate. “Is there a town near here with fine ale and a good whorehouse?” 

“There are not many places where one can find good ale, Nichols, but there are many where one can satisfy one’s lust for the … uh … fairer sex.”

“The fairer sex, you say, Norman. Jolly good idea! Shall we make a toast to the fairer sex? And shall we this evening seek out their company?”

This was what Colonel Norman dreaded. At first, he had been delighted by the sight of Colonel Nichols. What a fine man he was! And, by all accounts, a fine soldier too. The additional lower ranking servicemen destined to be brought in to the area would be well commanded. And there might even be a call for a more senior ranking officer than colonel to command the barracks, now that commerce was due to make the town prosper more. All that cotton and iron destined for the many corners of the British Empire! But now, a fellow who sought to dip his stick only in the oily, hairy craw of a prostitute’s cunt. What a waste of a man’s manhood! 

However, the colonel was wary about betraying his lack of interest in women when he wasn’t confident what the other soldier might think. He knew that many took a lack of passion in the weaker, fey sex as indicative of a weakness in oneself and Colonel Norman could not abide that.

“Yes indeed! A toast to the fairer sex!” said Colonel Norman without conviction, opening a bottle of malt whiskey and pouring it into two of the small glasses that he owned that otherwise would be used to hold tea.

From Colonel Norman’s perspective, a night out in the brothel was unlikely to be a success, but he took along with him not only Colonel Nichols, but several of the more junior officers whose very lack of sexual adventurousness meant that he had much neglected them over the year. It was on their recommendations that he and Colonel Nichols, together with these officers, took a rickshaw to a gaudy brothel, brightly lit candles everywhere, there to be offered alcohol, opium, marijuana and women.

Colonel Norman indulged in alcohol, he smoked some opium, but he ignored the women as best he could. It was difficult to avoid them, of course, as they fell all over him, their bosoms bare and their nipples showing, sometimes opening wide their legs to reveal a hairy nothingness where surely a something should be. Skinny, scrawny, dark-skinned native girls who spoke execrable English and those few words they knew seemed to be only to do with sex. 

“You want fucky fucky?” one girl asked Colonel Norman, while Colonel Nichols was regarding him, three girls with their arms around him and one of them with a hand already inside his britches. Colonel Norman looked across at his fellow soldier, who smirked in a jovial self-satisfied way, and conjectured more on the size of the member the girl had uncovered than he did on anything else.

“You got big dicky!” exclaimed the girl fondling inside Colonel Nichols’ britches. “Want fucky fucky? Three girl. Good price.”

“Yes, by God I do!” said Colonel Nichols with a grin. He stood up, with two girls around his shoulders, and the third still with a hand inside his britches. They gradually slithered into more comfortable positions. “How about you, Norman? You want to join these three fine hussies? Or do you want to stay with your own little flower?”

There was probably a note of irony in Colonel Nichols’ remark, because the three most attractive girls the madam had supplied the officers were the three who had gravitated around Colonel Nichols, perhaps scenting his masculine potency, whilst after the other officer’s were allocated prostitutes, the one left for Colonel Norman was surely the most unhealthy and scrawny of them all. Madame Seth’s whores had a nose for a man’s eagerness for sex with women sharper than Colonel Norman’s own for men who wanted sex with other men,

“I’ll be fine, Nichols. You go ahead and enjoy yourself. I shall stay here with my own little fucky fucky.”

“Well, best of luck, Norman old boy,” said Colonel Nichols making his way with the three whores clinging to him and his clothes, whilst the one grasping the colonel’s erect member was excitedly discussing it with her two colleagues.

Colonel Norman had no appetite for sex with the whore who had assigned herself to him, but he was far too gentlemanly not to pay for her services even though he had no intention of actually using them, He let her idle with his penis, which under her ministrations steadfastly refused to get erect, while listening to the punctuated gasps and shrieks and groans coming from the room, and the bed within it, where Colonel Nichols was taking full advantage of the three whores who had attached themselves to him.

At one stage, Colonel Norman even saw Colonel Nichols, fully naked, his fine member displayed, as he stood at the doorway of the room where his whores still lay on the bed, and ordered some more wine from the coolie who was sitting on a chair waiting for just such commands.

“Why, hello there, Norman old chap!” he roared, his penis erect and a full foot in length, the size (would you believe it!) of Colonel Norman’s own member when erect. But not now, of course, as it limped sorrowfully over the side of the divan where he sat, not so much spent as unused. “Done and dusted?”

“Indeed, Nichols!” Colonel Norman lied. “And a fine wench she was too!”

Later, back at the barracks, Colonel Norman was feeling very much frustrated. He’d had his penis twiddled and twisted so much by the young whore that it was sore and raw, but it had not fully come to life and it most certainly hadn’t relieved itself. What was even worse was that in this moment of dire need for release with a willing soldier, the colonel was to be sharing his room with another whose appetite was quite clearly for women. An appetite he learnt had been well sated with the three hussies with whom he had entrusted his need for gratification.

The rickshaw driver ran off, carrying his now empty carriage behind him, while Colonel Norman contemplated whether he could risk a visit to Corporal Knight or even Private Godley. But he decided against it. Instead, he meekly followed his fellow colonel into their quarters and collapsed on the bed.

“Damned fine whores, Norman old boy!” exclaimed Colonel Nichols pulling off his shirt with just one vigorous pull, and standing bare-chested in only his britches and bare feet. Colonel Norman gulped involuntarily as he regarded the sculpted torso of his equal ranking officer.

“Indeed they were!” lied Colonel Norman. “Damnably fine!”




The Pursuit of Manliness



His mind however was focused on the descent of Colonel Nichol’s britches, under which he could see the bulging cock pressing against the cloth. And soon they were off, and Colonel Nichols stood naked and unembarrassed by his bed, his penis still half-erect sprinkled with a light powdering which no doubt was what was left of the semen and female orgasm that had earlier lubricated it. Colonel Nichols strode naked over to Colonel Norman and stood in front of him, that half-erect penis so temptingly close to his eyes. And such a magnificent penis! Surely a cock of proportions at least equal to his own.

“Norman old boy!” laughed Colonel Nichols. “You don’t deceive me one whit.”

“What do you mean, old chap?” asked Colonel Norman raising his eyes up to gaze into his colleague’s face.

“Don’t be a silly ass, old boy! You don’t care for the whores of the town at all, do you? Least of all, the hussy who pulled your pecker. You are, if I am not very much mistaken, a meat and potatoes man. Am I not right?”

“I’m sorry, old boy. I’m not sure I understand you right,” countered Colonel Norman, nonetheless reddening with the same girlishness as a virgin boy.

Colonel Nichols placed a firm hand under Colonel Norman’s chin, the grip as strong and virile as the member twitching in front of his eyes. “Don’t be so coy, Norman old boy. I’m a man of the world. I’ve worked my way through the ranks and I’ve had some devilish postings. I’ve fucked my way through the ranks, too. I’m a man who likes his meat and potatoes. But I also like a little salad. Perhaps with rich sauce. And when I first saw you, God damn my eyes, I knew you were a man who liked a man.”

“You like meat and potatoes too?” asked Colonel Norman tremulously. “As much as buttered oyster?”

“More so, Norman my good man. The fair sex make a good aperitif, but they scarcely make for a full serving. I like my main course to be hot and lean and strong and firm.”

Colonel Norman took his fellow colonel’s testicles in the cup of his hand, and feeling no resistance, he guided the length of the twitching member towards his mouth. “I like my meat to be well-cooked and properly peppered!” he commented before taking as much as he could into his mouth of the colonel’s twitching, throbbing, swelling member. 

As is always the case when two gentlemen are engaged in serious intercourse with each other, now was not the time for idle chatter. Now was the time for Colonel Norman to divest himself of his raiments, his penis already up and bouncing with joy, the blood engorging it fit to burst, as he and his colleague sucked and fisted and pummelled and squeezed and pulled at each other. Two manly bodies at the height of virility, battling to maximise the pleasure from each other. 

Had Colonel Norman ever seen a cock as handsome and proud and so worthy of the honour of manhood as the one presented to him by Colonel Nichols? Not for many years, he was sure. It was too large to fit in his mouth, as much as for his own cock, bursting with virility, was too large to do more than tickle his fellow soldier’s tonsils. But that cock, so much meat, so raw and hot and warm, even with the faint taste of pussy garlicking it, was a treat to relish, and one he wanted to relish again.

“My arse is ready, old boy,” invited Colonel Nichols. “A bit of spit and polish and we can dip the sausage.”

“No fear, old chap!” exclaimed Colonel Norman. “Yours is an arse whose flavour I wish to savour later. First take my own. But be careful, it’s not been as used as a soldier’s should be. Rank has its rewards but it has its penalties. Spare not the spit and push your cock in as far as the devil allows.”

“Well, Norman old boy!” Colonel Nichols declared, when his penis pushed harder and harder into the open cavern of the anus. “Hardly ever have I entered such a welcome portal. Yours is an arse that may not have received as many as visitors as it might, but is willing to put on a goodly and inviting spread.”

Colonel Norman grunted with orgasmic delight, his penis spurting free, arcs of semen spurting up and over onto the parquet floor, while inside him he could feel that warm release of semen from Colonel Nichols, his prostrate gland nearly bursting with ecstasy. And as his fellow colonel’s penis pummelled afresh, and yet more of his own semen spurted out and painted afresh the floor, and the warmth of the colonel’s semen dripped down through the hair of his thighs, the colonel felt that at last he had found the true object of his vocation. It wasn’t manly endeavour alone he had sought in Her Majesty’s service, but the pleasure of manliness itself. And where better could it be found than in being fucked by a man so manly as Colonel Nichols?