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A Prayer

By: EmeraldKitten



It's one of the most controversial subjects out there. 

God. Church vs. State, and all that jazz. 

It's hard to learn things in this world we live in today. Do many people believe in anything? 

I've always been a bit of a skeptic when it came to religion. There are some things I don't agree with. There are other things I will probably never agree with. Does that make it count less? Or is God just happy we're talking to Him and seeking His word? 

*

I don't have all the answers. In fact, I don't have any of the answers. 

What I do know, is that praying is about needs or wants. And I think God wants you to give over your worries and troubles to him. Just as important- we need to pray with gratitude. Don't forget to thank God for everything, and yes, as silly as it sounds, even thank him for your hardships. The troubles you withstand make you who you are. 

I know some people find it hard to believe in God when bad things happen, and I used to be one of them. As clichéd as it sounds, things always happen for a reason. Life is like a river, constantly moving you, taking you to different banks to learn something new or to have a different experience. Some may be good, some may be bad, but they always happen for a reason.

I wish I would have known God when my dad passed away. I didn't. In fact, I think I yelled at Him about it...never knowing that in that moment, I was being changed. Hindsight is twenty-twenty. Do I wish my dad was alive? Some days, yes. But only if he was going to be normal. Having him here as a drug addict wouldn't be any more productive today than it was years ago. Had he not overdosed, I wouldn't be who I am today. 

Everyone has their own opinion, and I am just expressing mine. I am still learning the way to the Lord, and I'm so new at this. One thing I can do, however, is pray. I try to do it everyday, even if its just a few thoughts; and even if it's just to say thank you. 

*

Dear Lord,

Keep my loved ones in Your capable, caring hands. Help any of them who need You, even if they don't 'know' You.

I don't know You that well, but I'm searching and seeking. Please lend me the ability to understand. I need help to learn about You and Your ways. Make me knowledgeable in Your word. 

There is much that I do not understand about You. Even so, I can see the efforts of Your actions, the evidence that You are active in my daily life and the lives of others. I do not need to physically see You to believe. Your evidence is everywhere.

I pray for peace, happiness, understanding, contentment, and love for everyone I know. 

If someone needs a helping hand Lord, reach out to them.

If someone isn't content, show them the way to happiness.

If someone is angry, help replace that anger in their heart with patience, kindness, and love.

If someone is lonely, send them an angel in disguise to ease their loneliness.

If someone is ill, make them well. If that is not Your will, then give them comfort and peace.

If someone is hurting, hold them in Your hand and guide them to the right path.

If someone is in financial hardship, help ease their worry. Make them give it to you God, so they don't have to be concerned.

If someone is dealing with abuse, give them the strength to get through it. Or better yet, give them the strength to be true to themselves and get out of the situation. Give them the wisdom to love themselves as You love them. 

Lord, place Your loving hands on everyone in my world. Keep them safe and secure.

Use everyone to Your purpose.

You, Lord God, are the only one that can 'use' people so that they come away as a better person. It doesn't lessen them any. They don't feel used. They feel uplifted.

Use anyone You need to as a tool to bring about something better.

Do I pray to be healthy and happy for myself? Of course. Just please keep watch of my friends and family.

Please Lord, open my eyes to Your goodness, to the miracles you perform every day. Open my ears to hear your teachings. Open my mouth to practice words of kindness. Open my heart to receive you, and open it to help others. Open my soul to Heaven.

Help my loved ones and myself to be happy with what we have; to appreciate what we have, and not yearn for what we do not.

This, I ask in Your name, Lord.

The most important prayer out there is just two words, and it's 'thank you'. So I thank you, Lord, for all the blessings You have already bestowed, and for the blessings You still have to give. Thank you.

Amen.

*

'Remind me I have everything I really need Lord. Best of all I have You, whose promises never change, and You will always supply my true needs.' ~ Hebrews 13:5

A Prayer Answered



(This story is a continuation. It isn't necessary, but you may wish to read the first chapter, "The Secret Life of the Mature Woman". In either case, enjoy.)

*

The morning sun was shining brightly as my son, Robert and I made our way into St Joseph's church for Sunday mass. Rob had complained bitterly about going to church all morning and it had been a real struggle but I was happy to have him with me. I had been attending this church for as far back as my memory could stretch and had even attended St. Joseph's Catholic School since it opened its doors when I was in the fourth grade. It made me feel nice inside as we were greeted by old friends and familiar faces as we made our way to a pew about midway up the aisle. I, in particular, felt like I really needed to be here. 

I had been feeling such tremendous guilt ever since the shameless way I had acted with Mark nearly two weeks ago. Mark was a young black man only half my age who had been my tennis instructor. I had been living in mortal terror since that day, afraid that someone would find out and word would spread throughout our small community like wildfire. When you live in a town with only four hundred inhabitants there is no such thing as a secret for very long. So far, I hadn't heard any rumblings that my indiscretion had become public knowledge.

Mark had attempted to call me twice, but I had not returned his calls. I had called the gym where he taught tennis lessons and left a message that I was sick and would not be coming to my lessons for a couple of weeks. It wasn't an excuse that I could use forever, but at least it gave me some time to think about how I was ever going to straighten out this mess and resume my previous dull and predictable life.

The mass began and although nobody would have guessed it from my outward appearance, I was praying for forgiveness inside. The priests and nuns had always taught us that if you prayed hard enough, your prayers would be answered. My meditations were interrupted by an usher who was asking me to slide in a little further into the pew. I did so while looking up to see who it was that had arrived late and would be sitting next to me.

Oh my God! It was Mark!

I'm sure my face must have turned every shade of red known to man. I'm sure he saw the look of sheer panic in my eyes. Mark only nodded his head to me and smiled a greeting. I turned around forward again, but the blood was pounding so hard in my ears that I don't think that I heard one word of what was being said. I was dead certain that everyone in the congregation could tell that this forty-eight year old mother of six, who had sat in this very church every Sunday had lain with this 24 year old black man. That she had opened her legs wantonly and allowed him to take her over and over again all afternoon on that dreadful day. Looking back now, I know that was pretty silly. However, at the time I was sure that God was punishing me as I deserved to be punished.

But, doesn't he look great! He is so handsome in that suit and tie. Much different than the last time I saw him when he was completely naked and bringing me to the point of such ecstasy that I thought I had died and gone straight to heaven. I remember when he --

Stop that Sandra! What is the matter with you? Haven't you gotten yourself into enough of a mess already? 

Mass progressed normally and, thank God, forty-eight years of training had conditioned me to know when to stand, when to sit, and when to kneel. 

Kneel?? Like I had knelt before this man, doing things to him that would have surely gotten me kicked out of this very church forever? Using my tongue, that would soon be receiving communion, to greedily lick up and down his beautiful brown hardness until he had exploded inside my warm, wet mouth and I had hungrily swallowed every drop as if I were a starving woman?

I shook my head and concentrated on paying attention to the priest. Eventually, it came time to pass the collection basket. I placed my envelope with my donation in the basket and turned to pass it to Mark. As I did, our hands touched for just a moment and my breath caught as I had a flash of those magnificent hands touching me as they had that day. Expertly caressing me in all the places that I so love to be touched. His fingers, so powerful, yet so gentle as he made my body writhe with pleasure until I almost had to beg for mercy.

Oh, God, please -- Why are you doing this to me? I have sinned and I am heartily sorry. I will never, ever, ever do such a shameless thing again. I was weak. I was confused. I will try to do better if You will just forgive me this once.

When Communion came I made my way up the aisle towards the priest. I found that my legs were shaking. Surely this would be the moment when my punishment would be meted out and my shame would be made public knowledge. However, just the opposite seemed to occur. As I accepted the Eucharist I felt a sense of calm come over me. I almost wept at my relief as I made my way back to my seat.

As I returned to the pew, I noticed that Rob and Mark were both missing. I was used to my son being gone. He always got up and left during Communion and waited for me outside. It was a small concession to make in order to have him accompany me. Mark must be in the same habit. It must be a generational thing. We never would have done such a thing while I was growing up.

Actually, I was glad to have the pew to myself at that moment. I bowed my head and gave thanks with all my soul. While kneeling there, it came to me what I had to do. I couldn't keep running from Mark. I had to make a point of talking to him as one adult to another and make him see that the way I had acted was not who I was. I had to make him see that I was the one to blame and I was sorry that I had ignored him during the interim, but that we could never repeat what we had done.

As the service ended, I left the church with a renewed strength. I had asked for guidance and my prayers had been answered. I had begun to believe that there was a way out of my predicament and I was bound and determined to put it behind me.

I was mildly surprised when I didn't see Robert waiting for me in the vestibule, so I wandered out into the sunshine where there were groups of parishioners chatting and visiting as always. I said hello to a few friends, but my eyes were looking all about for my son. Finally I saw him. He and Mark were kicking a soccer ball back and forth in the small park across the street. I remembered seeing that ball in my van and had meant to take it out, but it had somehow slipped my mind.

I stopped and watched them cavorting about like a couple of goofballs. I smiled to myself as I watched Robert moving with the ease of a natural athlete. All of my children had been quite athletic. Luckily, they had inherited that gene from my ex-husband, Bill's side.

Mark, too, moved with a grace that reminded me of a jungle cat. Of course, I had seem him displaying his athletic prowess many times during our tennis lessons, but it felt different watching him he when he thought he was unobserved. Even in his dress shoes and suit pants, he moved in such a way that would make any woman, young or old, take notice.

"Such a handsome young man", I was startled from my reverie by Doris Graham, a long time friend of the family.

"What?" I stammered as I felt the blood rushing to my face.

"Your son, Robert. He turned out to be such a handsome young man. Just like Bill was."

There it was. I had become an expert at interpreting underlying meanings in other people's comments. Doris was 72 years old and I had known her from the time I was a little girl. What she was telling me was that women of her generation knew how to keep a man happy and that I was a big failure that should be looked on with pity. I choked back my first impulse, which was to lash out at her, but I knew deep down, that she couldn't help it. We had definitely been raised in different times and with different values.

"Thank you, Doris," I finally stammered.

I broke away from all of the knots of people and made my way across the street to corral Rob so that we could be on our way. His father was expecting him so that they could go up to our family cabin for a couple of days and I knew how Bill could get if you were even a minute later than scheduled.

They broke up their game and came running when they saw me. Robert looked a mess now with his shirt untucked and his hair looking quite wild. Again, I knew that Bill would be placing another check mark in my negative column.

Robert was a little out of breath as he blurted out "Mom, I told Mr. Stephens that we could give him a ride home. He walked all of the way here" 

I hesitated for just a moment and Mark said, "That's alright, Mrs. Collins. I can walk. I wouldn't want you going way out of your way".

Before I could even reply, Robert interrupted with, "It's not out of the way, Mr. Stephens. We're heading out towards Bergman road anyway".

At this point, what could I do? I put on my "good mom" smile and told Mark he was welcome to come along.

With that, we all piled in and started out. Robert and Mark jabbered on and on about one sport or another. I was kind of thankful at being left out of the conversation because as the distance to Bill's house shrank, my nerves became more and more wound up. I could feel my sweat braking out all over my body and silently prayed that it wouldn't show through my dress.

When we pulled up, Rob jumped out of the front passenger's door almost before we came to a stop. Nobody was out front and the door was closed and I had begun to think we make take off again without incident. Mark had just slid out of the sliding door to get into the front seat, when the front door of the house opened. Bill stepped outside and had started to raise his hand in a wave when he saw Mark and his hand froze in mid-wave.

Oh God!

I knew Bill's view on racial matters and could only begin to imagine the thoughts that were zooming through his head. He shouted a greeting to Rob, but his eyes never left what was taking place at the van. Mark climbed in and either hadn't caught what had transpired or he had chosen not to notice.

Just then, I saw two other people come out of the house and move around Bill to look out at us. His sister, Josephine had never really liked me and when she saw who my passenger was, her face became very tight and you didn't have to be a mind reader to know what was going on inside her closed little mind.

Around the other side stepped Tiffany (or Bethany, or Buffy, or whatever the hell her name was), Bill's new girlfriend. She was wearing a tank top and cutoff shorts and she looked to be the very image of the All- American 23 year old sweetheart. I hated her more at that moment than I've ever hated anyone. 

I gave a clumsy wave good-bye and put the van into gear as quickly as possible. We pulled away and (bless his heart) Mark allowed me my silence. He didn't try to make any witty comments or start babbling about any other subject just to get my mind off of what had just happened. 

As I drove along, tears started coming from my eyes. I wiped them away quickly and hoped that Mark hadn't noticed. He didn't need to see me acting like a big baby. That could wait until I was back home again.

Slowly, I began to regain my composure and at last, we pulled up in front of Mark's house. I remembered my earlier resolve to have a talk with Mark and as I started to open my mouth he said, "Would you like to come in?"

My emotions were so raw that I was afraid that I would start blubbering again if I started our talk. I decided to accept his invitation. How would it have looked to anyone passing by if I had been sitting there crying my eyes out with this young black man who was only half my age?

We entered his home and I saw that it was sparsely furnished, but I was pleasantly surprised by how neat it was. I laughed to myself because I had assumed that Mark, being a bachelor, would not be the greatest of housekeepers. As I looked around Mark asked me if he could get me anything. I asked for a glass of ice water more as an excuse to gather my wits than anything else.

Mark returned with my water and we both took a seat on the sofa, his one piece of furniture in the living room. I took a sip and thought about how I was going to begin. Before I could start, Mark told me that he thought Robert was a great kid. He said that he had a great time showing him a couple of tricks with the soccer ball and that Rob had been a quick study.

I smiled because there is nothing in the world that will make any mom smile more than hearing nice things about her children. Mark then commented that Rob's father seemed to love him very much. I knew I had to say something to him about the looks that had been shot his way at Bill's house. As I made a clumsy effort to offer an apology, Mark placed his hand over mine and looked at me with his soft brown eyes.

"Sandra, you are one of the kindest souls that I have ever met. I can't believe you were ever married to a man like that."

I tried to tell him that it hadn't always been that way. I told Mark that at the beginning Bill had been a very tender and fun loving person. Before I knew it, I started pouring my heart out about my marriage and my divorce. 

I don't know why I had picked this time to bare my soul. It certainly wasn't the conversation that I had intended to have. Perhaps it was because I never really had a chance to say any of these things before. My friends would always express their sympathy, but whenever I tried to open up, they would stop me with some platitude about how I was better off without him or how I would meet someone else. I could tell that it made them uncomfortable and I soon learned to avoid the subject altogether.

Perhaps another reason, though, was because Mark was such a good listener. He kept eye contact with me and seemed to be really interested. There were no glances out the window or at his watch, nor did he look as if the topic was making him uncomfortable.

As I talked, I felt a knot growing in my chest. Without realizing it I had clenched my hands into fists as all the frustrations and the sense of loss welled up inside me. I felt a tear coming to my eye. It wasn't long before it was followed by many more.  

Mark handed me a tissue and placed his arm around my shoulders for comfort. There was nothing sexual about his gesture. It was just his big heart reaching out to a friend that was in need.

I dabbed the tissue at my eyes and tried to take a few deep breaths to regain some semblance of composure. Soon the sobbing stopped and I shook my head to show Mark that I knew I was being a silly old lady who shouldn't be unburdening herself on him like that. I knew that I must have looked absolutely dreadful now and I wanted nothing more than to find a graceful way of leaving. I finally concluded with an apology for the looks that Bill, Jo, and Tiffany (or maybe Bethany or Buffy) had exchanged earlier. 

Mark gave a soft chuckle and told me that he was used to that sort of thing. He said that he almost didn't notice it anymore. Mark looked away as he said that last part, but I noticed a tightening around his eyes and his body seemed just a bit more rigid. 

I sensed that this was not the truth but I didn't say anything. I just maintained eye contact and waited for him to continue. After a moment, he started to open up about how difficult it had been for him, as a black man, to move to this small town in Vermont. 

What he said was true. For as far back as I could remember we had only had a handful of blacks in our town. Attitudes ran more like those of Bill's around here. I couldn't imagine how self-conscious Mark must feel at all times in any social gathering in this town. He didn't sound bitter or angry. It sounded to me more like he was just tired of it all.

How long had he been holding all of this inside himself? Now, it was my turn to listen and he poured it all out. I didn't have any answers for him and I certainly couldn't very well tell him that I knew what he meant. I just listened as he talked. 

Without us even being aware of it, the sun had started to set and daylight crept from the room. Mark was talking about his grandmother now and he spoke with such love and admiration for the woman that had practically raised him. His mother had died when he was seven and he said that he had never known his father. He concluded by telling me that his grandmother had passed away only six months ago, shortly before he came to Vermont.

This time it was me who reached out to a friend in need. I placed my head against Mark's shoulder and gently laid my hand upon his chest. We sat there for quite a while just like that, just holding each other and giving all the comfort any human being can give to another.

After a while, Mark turned his face and kissed the top of my head. I closed my eyes and let my hand drift across his broad chest. I felt his fingers tighten on my shoulder and he kissed my hair again. I lifted my hand to his cheek as I tilted my face upwards. Our mouths came together for the tenderest of kisses. My heart was pounding in my chest as our lips explored one another.

Finally I broke our kiss and looked Mark in the eye. My voice cracked as I struggled out, "Take me to your bedroom."

Mark waited a moment, searching my eyes to see if this was something that I really wanted. I was never so sure of anything in my life. I held his gaze steadily as I struggled to control my breathing and my pounding heart. He took my hand and led me down the narrow hallway to his bedroom. As we entered, I said to him, "I'll be right back", and I went into his adjoining bathroom. 

I closed the door behind me and took a deep breath as I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I knew that this was far from my original intentions, but I also knew that I had never felt closer to another human being in my life. Taking one more deep breath, I started to undo the buttons on the back of my dress. I purposely turned away from the mirror as the dress slipped from my shoulders and I hung it on a hook on the back of the door. Next I leaned against the wall as I removed my pantyhose. 

Now, I dared to sneak a look into the mirror as I stood there in just my bra and panties. My panties! I covered my mouth with my hand as I looked at what my daughter always laughingly referred to as my granny panties. I made a big decision and removed the offending garment and my bra as well. I turned to open the door, but had a change of heart and grabbed a nearby towel and wrapped it around myself.

As I opened the door I was greeted by the sight of Mark standing totally naked before me. He was in the process of removing his shirt altogether when he stopped what he was doing and looked at me entering the room. As he stood and stared, the shirt fell from his hands to the floor. His dark, athletic body showed not a trace of fat. His manhood hung down limply between his legs. His sculpted thighs looked as firm and strong as tree trunks. He looked to me to be the very image of some naked God of Virility sprung to life from the pages of a book of mythology - or, perhaps from the pages of the darkest, deepest recesses of my own mind. 

My heart beat so loudly in my chest as I stood there with just the towel wrapped around me. Try as I might, I could not get my legs to move. My eyes never left Mark's and the look I saw there filled me with relief. Mark was looking at me with a look of such passion. It was a look that every woman dreams of seeing on a lover's face. 

"Sandra, you look so beautiful", he barely rasped.

Finally, my legs received the message to advance. That walk across the carpet of his room could not have been more than seven or eight feet, but it seemed to stretch out for miles on end. I fought my nerves and tried to show a smile, but I have no idea of what face I may have made. The tone of Mark's voice and the look in his eyes did a lot to alleviate a bit of the anxiety that I was feeling, but the truth was that I still had a mountain of fears inside me. Slowly, the distance between us shrank. I had to tilt my head upwards as I neared him to maintain contact with his warm and loving gaze.




A Prayer Answered



When I was at last in front of him, Mark raised his hands to my face and he tenderly cupped my cheeks. Our eyes never left each other's for even a fraction of a second. 

"Sandra, I've been dreaming of this moment since the last time I saw you"

As he spoke, Mark softly stroked the back of his fingers along my cheeks. I broke our gaze at last as I closed my eyes and let his loving touch and soft voice wash over me. Without a conscious thought, I turned my head and kissed his hand. He kept it still as I kissed his fingers slowly and sensuously. My tongue snaked out to lightly trace along his soft digit. As I did this I opened my eyes and we stared into each other's souls once again.

As he held my face, Mark slowly bent his lips towards mine. I instinctively reached up to touch his arms as our lips met. The kiss was soft and gentle and filled with passion such as I had never experienced. Mark started to move his lips in a circular motion. I eagerly followed his every move until I felt his lips finally part and our tongues lightly touched for the first time. From that first tentative touch our kiss quickly deepened. Our mouths ground together as our tongues glided and caressed each other's. 

I could hear Mark's breathing deepen and I wasn't even aware that I was softly moaning over and over as I sunk deeper and deeper into the moment. Suddenly, as if reading each other's mind, Mark shifted his hands from my face to hold me around the shoulders as my own hands reached around his back to his shoulder blades. We clutched each other tightly - desperately. I could feel the warmth coming from Mark's skin through the towel which remained tied around me and I could feel his now rock hard manhood pressing against me. 

The warmth of his body and the feel of his strong arms around me, along with an unexpected hunger for passion that I didn't know I had inside me, caused me to writhe against his naked body. I felt this desperate need to feel him even closer to me. The result of my grinding against him was that my towel began to loosen. Mark had made no move to remove the towel, preferring to let me decide when I would drop this last vestige of modesty. 

That decision came rushing on me like a freight train. Without breaking our kiss, I pulled slightly away from Mark and my towel slipped to the floor at my feet. I heard Mark moan and his embrace tightened around me; his hands moving over my naked flesh. I was moaning as well as I now felt nothing between our naked bodies. My breasts pressed against his well defined chest and his manhood felt like fire against my belly.

We clutched and ground against each other as if we were clinging to life itself. It seemed as if we both were trying to climb inside each other, so desperate were we to quench the hunger that was raging inside. Finally, Mark broke our kiss and looked at me. The look now on his face was one of pure lust and longing. I can't be sure of the look on my face, but judging from the way I felt, he probably saw the same look in return.

"Sandra, I want to make love to you"

My only response was to nod my head. I couldn't have made my voice work at that moment for all the gold in the world. Gone were any thoughts I had earlier about never allowing this to happen between us again. How could I have been so silly as to ever have even thought such a thing? At this moment nothing in the world could ever be more perfect and more natural. 

Our lips met once again and I felt Mark moving. He pulled me along easily with his strong hands and I followed blindly but willingly. He sat down on the edge of his canopied bed - then laid back, pulling me down on top of him. I giggled a bit at the awkwardness as he maneuvered our bodies so that we were lying lengthwise on his soft bed. I made a movement to climb off of him, fearing that my weight on top of him was making it too difficult for him to move, but his grip tightened around me and held me in place.

I dipped my head and our lips joined in another hot embrace. As our tongues became once again entangled, I had a fleeting thought of the newness of this position that I now found myself in. You may find this funny, but in over twenty-five years of marriage my ex-husband had never pulled me on top of him like this. We had made love in several different positions, but they had all involved me being on the bottom. God bless Mark for opening my eyes to new possibilities!

Our lips ground against each other's hungrily. I found that I liked this new position immensely. I loved the feeling of Mark's hands as they explored my naked flesh. My thighs straddled his powerful hips and I could feel his rock hard manhood lying beneath my pubic mound. Mark's hand dipped lower on my back and he pushed on my bottom, grinding me tighter against his engorged organ. He moaned against my lips, letting me know that he loved this sensation too. In response, I began to thrust my hips against him over and over.

Mark was writhing beneath me and lifting to meet my thrusts. I was so happy that I was able to give him such pleasure. Suddenly, Mark reached his hand down farther and his fingers found my very moist opening. Now, it was my turn to moan my pleasure against his lips. My whole body felt as if it had been touched by a live electrical wire as his middle finger plunged deep inside me. My hips worked furiously, alternating between pressing against his manhood below me and his fingers behind me.

At this point I was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe and had to break our kiss. Mark was thrusting his hips upward powerfully. He also used his hands to urge me gently forward. The pleasure was so great that I couldn't take it anymore. Finally, I raised my hips and leaned forward until I could feel the head of his manhood slip between the lips at my moist entrance. I tried to push back against him a couple of times, but our alignment wasn't quite right and I could not capture him inside me. At last, I felt the head press against the right spot and I pushed back. A cry escaped my lips as inch after glorious inch penetrated me. I took about half of his manhood inside me on the first thrust. Then I started rocking back and forth and with each stroke I could feel him filling me more and more. When I had finally taken his entire length inside me, Mark held my hips still and looked up into my eyes. 

"Sandra, it feels so good to be inside you. I've done nothing but dream of making love to you."

I could only moan deeply and struggle out a "Yes, Mark. You feel so good inside me."

As soon as I finished croaking out my reply, Mark started moving beneath me. He held my hips in his strong hands and began thrusting up inside me. It gave me such a thrill to feel his muscular body straining upwards with each powerful stroke. I couldn't believe it, but I could feel an orgasm building inside me already. I closed my eyes and let the feelings wash over me. 

Just as I was approaching the point of no return, Mark's hands moved from my hips to my shoulders and he gently eased me into an upright position on top of him. Oh God! I wasn't expecting this! In this new position my naked body was on full display before his eyes. I was no longer a 23 year old with a tight body and firm breasts that one would be proud to display for her lover. As he continued to thrust up inside me, I could feel my breasts swaying lewdly and I could only imagine him comparing me unfavorably with other, younger lovers that he's had. The look on his face, however, betrayed no such line of thinking. He looked at me with such love and tenderness and my heart melted.

Mark groaned, "Sandra, you look so beautiful" as his hands reached up to grasp my breasts.

It's funny, but I felt somewhat better with his hands covering me. I had a lot less flesh to jiggle around loosely with him holding me like this. He used his hands to urge me into a rocking motion. I began lifting and sinking, enjoying the sensation of his hardness penetrating me deeply. I placed my hands on his muscular forearms for balance and made love to this beautiful young man with all my heart.

After a few minutes of riding his wonderful manhood, I felt Mark's hands leave me. He took hold of my hands and lifted them to my breasts. "Oh, my God! He wants me to touch myself right in front of him!" 

Don't get me wrong. I was no stranger to the act of touching myself. I had, after all, been divorced for over two years and had often resorted to this activity for relief. However, touching myself had always been a very private activity. I certainly had never done such a thing in front of anyone else! 

I just held my hands still over my breasts as I continued to ride Mark's hardness. I looked down to see him looking back up at me, his face a mask of lust and desire. He was now lifting to meet each of my downward plunges and I knew I was moments away from an enormous orgasm. Without even thinking about it, my fingers started to pinch and roll my sensitive nipples.

As the feelings within me built to a crescendo, I moaned over and over and touched myself as if I were in the throes of some kind of demonic possession. My orgasm exploded inside me and I threw myself down on Mark's chest. He wrapped his strong arms around me and held me as my body shook in pleasure. I have no idea how long I convulsed in his arms or what I might have said while I rode the crest of the most amazing orgasm of my entire life.

As I started to return to earth, I became aware of Mark's hands gliding over my naked flesh and his lips sucking hungrily at my neck. Any small movement that either of us made sent jolts through my body and caused me to quake even more. Finally my breathing returned to almost normal and most of my senses came back to me.

Suddenly, Mark rolled me over, never dislodging his manhood from me as he took position over me. My eyes closed as our lips met for a very passionate kiss. As we kissed, I felt him start to move inside me. He thrust slowly at first and my fingers tightened on his shoulders. 

Slowly, he began to quicken his pace. Though my muscles were worn out, I began to lift and move with him. Mark broke our kiss and laid his head alongside my face. I opened my eyes and was greeted by yet another surprise! There was a mirror attached to the canopy! My eyes widened at the sight that I beheld. Mark's magnificent chestnut body covered me so easily. I could see his every muscle flexing in his back and his tight, muscular bottom moving in rhythm as he repeatedly thrust inside me. My pale knees and legs were in sharp contrast to his rich brown coloring. 

Prior to today, I would have thought that I would be shocked to see such a graphic and shameless sight. At that moment, however, I don't think I ever saw anything sexier or more sensual in my entire life. I kept watching as my hands explored his naked back. The sight of our contrasting colors seemed to fill me with more desire, if that was even possible! I wrapped my legs around his muscular thighs and reached out my hands to hold that amazing brown bottom as it moved in and out of me.

I wasn't even aware of my second orgasm coming on until it crashed over me. This time I could hear Mark grunting loudly and felt his body stiffen as his seed erupted deep inside my womb. We ground against each other desperately, each seeking blindly to absorb and give as much pleasure as we possibly could. My inner muscles contracted and released his magnificent organ over and over and I could hear Mark groaning his approval.

Oh, God! Don't let this ever end!

As the world became to come into focus once again, Mark kissed me so tenderly. Our mouths pressed together as we each tried to show the other how we felt. If I live to be one hundred years old, I will always be thankful for that moment. The world and their opinions could be damned at that moment. That moment was just for us -- two lovers showing just what was in their hearts.

What will tomorrow bring? What would others think? Could I dare to give my heart to another man? These were all questions that I knew had to be answered, but they could all wait until tomorrow. Right then I concentrated solely on the tenderness of the moment and savored the feeling of this magnificent man on top of me -- his manhood still buried deep inside me.

I had a fleeting thought about how I had gone to church that day to ask for forgiveness and seek guidance. Could it be that this was the guidance I had been given? If it was, I couldn't have ever asked for a better gift. Maybe those priests and nuns were right after all. Maybe this was what I had secretly been praying for all along.

*

(Many thanks to rgraham666. A wonderful editor. A wonderful writer. And a wonderful friend) 



A Prayer for Mercy



Mercy truly wanted to become a slut. Her chosen role model was Paris Hilton. She wanted to be able to fuck any man any time she felt like it. She wanted them to swarm around her like bees after a pot of honey, eager for her signal that she was ready for them. She knew how to act like a slut, and she sometimes did, dressing like a cheap whore and cruising the singles' bars. She knew how to pick up guys and get them to buy her drinks. She knew how to get them to take her home before they got too drunk to get it up. She even knew how to rip their clothes off and pull them into her bed on top of her.

But she had one serious problem.

She had not yet been able to get anyone to fuck her. "A virgin slut?" Mercy often thought crossly to herself. "Talk about the worst of both worlds!"

Mercy was actually, truly, totally a virgin. No one was more shocked and humiliated by this sad and prolonged state of affairs than Mercy herself. Whoever heard of such a thing? Everyone whining about date rape and all of that, and Mercy couldn't get anyone to pop her cherry even when she begged for it.

It's not that Mercy was unattractive in any way. Just the opposite, actually. She was a perfect little 19-year old doll, although she sometimes was afraid that her hard dancer's body made her look much younger. But the age thing didn't seem to be the problem. Guys would drool all over her, feel up her firm little titties, put their hands into her hot pants and rub her clitty, but sooner or later they would try to slip a finger into her steamy little hole and the embarrassment would begin. Most guys couldn't even get a finger in. It was that tight. Mercy would try to relax and make sounds of enjoyment, even moan "MORE, PLEASE," but something about that incredibly tight little tunnel seemed to make them start thinking about putting their pants back on and going home. It also apparently made them lose her phone number, because none of them ever called for a second date.

One man had come fairly close. Mercy was grateful for the memory of that one, at least. It gave her a little hope that some day she would find someone willing and able to thrust a hard cock into her, rupture her hymen, and fuck her properly until they both came. They had met in the usual way, at a bar, and Mercy had noticed immediately that he had long, slim fingers that were perfectly manicured. She learned that he was a professional musician, and clearly he was very dexterous. She began imagining one of his long, slender fingers sliding into her hungry pussy and she knew she had to get him into her bed as soon as possible.

That turned out to be not at all difficult, and quite soon they were both naked in Mercy's bed, kissing frantically and running their hands all over each other's smooth, lean bodies. Mercy reached for his cock, which was hard and leaking already. She ran her hand down the length of it, and it was indeed long, perhaps somewhat frighteningly so for a virgin to contemplate. But Mercy was encouraged by the fact that it was also slender, like his beautiful fingers. Her heart raced as she began to imagine this slender cock sliding right into her.

Meanwhile he had found her cunning little pussy and was petting the pouty lips. He gently massaged her mound, letting his middle finger gather some moisture from her slit, which had become extremely slippery, before pressing slightly inward, separating her inner lips and grazing her clit. Mercy flinched and squealed in spite of herself, and of course this made him think that he had hurt her, which made him pull back, which then in turn made Mercy even more frustrated. She yanked him closer to her by her grip on his cock, and rubbed the velvety head hard against her stiff clitty, moaning her pleasure into his open mouth. She rubbed the underside of his cock head against her until she came, just a little ripple but a real orgasm just the same, and enough to cause her pussy to gush out its clear, sweet lubricant.

When she could catch her breath, she whispered, "I want your finger in me. Please?"

To her disappointment, he pulled away from her, but not for long. He slid down her body and positioned himself between her spread legs, where he began exploring her petite snatch with his tongue. "Your finger," she whispered again, urgently, when it appeared that he intended to concentrate only on her throbbing clitty. Obligingly, he gently inserted a fingertip into her hot opening, and began worming it into her a millimeter at a time.

It hurt a little, actually. But it also felt very good, and Mercy knew it would be even better once her tiny twat was stretched enough to take it easily. Mercy's body was wracked with hot and cold flashes as the finger invaded her virgin cunny, and time seemed to stand still. Eventually he was in up to the first knuckle, and Mercy began to squirm and moan in earnest, because it did hurt, but she definitely did not want it to stop. He kept pushing patiently, working his finger back and forth in tiny increments, penetrating a tiny bit deeper each time. Mercy distinctly felt his finger encounter her rubbery hymen, hesitate, then carefully begin to dilate it. She bucked her hips gently against the invading pressure, and felt the finger slide further into her until it was deep in her molten core. Mercy tried to get control of her breathing as she got used to the feeling of this invader in her pussy. She tried hard not to move, as she feared that it would dislodge this wonderful new visitor too soon, even though she felt rather like she was stuffed full enough to burst.

With his finger gently massaging Mercy's inner sanctum, he returned the attentions of his tongue to her clit. Mercy's pussy immediately went into a violent spasm as she came harder than she ever had before. She felt her muscular little cunt expand and contract in waves of exquisite pleasure, and she bucked and thrashed like a wild thing until she was spent and gasping.

Sadly, this tsunami expelled the lovely finger from Mercy's pussy, leaving her apparently extra-heavy-duty hymen stubbornly intact.

Mercy's lover held her tightly as she regained her composure, and she could feel him smiling in the dark, proud of himself for making her lose control. When Mercy could once again speak coherently, she whispered, "That was SO good. Now I want you to fuck me and make me come again that way."

He rose above her, parted her legs, and positioned his rigid cock at Mercy's tender opening. He pressed forward gently, and Mercy felt his hot cock head part her delicate inner lips. She urged him on and he pushed harder, but that mushroom head would not pop into her fully. And it hurt. This time it really did hurt. Determined to get it over with, Mercy grasped his long cock with both hands and tried to impale herself with it.

Unfortunately the grasp of her soft hands on his rigid tool was more than the man could take. Groaning in humiliation, he jetted his steamy load all over Mercy's little virgin cuntie.

Mercy spent the next hour trying to get him hard enough to fuck her. She milked all the cum from his softening cock, and let him watch her savor it thoroughly before swallowing it. She sucked him, slowly, quickly, and everything in between. She rubbed his cock across her perky nipples, and molded her firm titties around it while sucking naughtily on the still-leaking head. She even switched to the sixty-nine position long enough for him to make her come again, another little one, but his cock never got more than semi-hard. In desperation, she mounted him and tried to stuff at least his cock head into her pussy, but it would not go in.

Before midnight he had made some embarrassed excuses and left. He said he would call her, of course.

Three months later she was still waiting for that call.

Mercy had tried every approach she could think of. At first, she didn't tell her prospective lovers that she was a virgin. Of course they quickly found out that her pussy was too tight to accept even the average finger, and were annoyed with her for not telling them ahead of time. Usually they stayed long enough for a quick blow job, but then it was "Thanks baby, I'll call you sometime." And they were gone. Then she tried honesty up front. That REALLY didn't work. One guy told her, "I'd love to, you know, but if you're really a virgin it wouldn't be good for either of us..." Another suggested that she find someone with a "teeny weenie" to "break her in." Still another suggested that she practice with a dildo, and "quit telling guys that you're a virgin. It's a real downer."

So Mercy decided to give the dildo a try. She went a little overboard and ordered six different ones from an on-line store. She got the smallest ones they had, but they still looked huge in her delicate hands and, try as she might, she could not get any of them into her pussy. None of them felt at all realistic, for one thing. And none of them had a horny, sweaty man attached to it, filled with his lusty need to pump his hot spunk deep into her grasping snatch. And wasn't that the point of the whole exercise?

Mercy didn't have many girlfriends, and not any with whom she felt comfortable enough to discuss the size of her pussy. Then one evening, late, she found herself undressing in the gym locker room next to her friend Connie. Connie wasn't making any effort to conceal her body as she stripped down, and Mercy couldn't help noticing that the crotch of Connie's panties was soaked and that her thighs were slick with milky fluid nearly to her knees. Connie noticed Mercy's point of attention and giggled guiltily. "This guy fucked me in the laundry room this morning when I was on my way to work," she explained, blushing prettily. "And his, uh, stuff, is still draining out of my pussy. What a load he must have shot into me!"

Mercy gaped, now staring openly at Connie's cum-soaked crotch. She could see little globs of cum caught in the curly pubic hairs, and imagined that she could smell the slight odor of bleach and feminine musk combined. "Oh, yeah, I know how it is," Mercy murmured. But Mercy did not "know how it is." She didn't know at all, and that thought made her burst into tears.

"Oh, what's wrong, honey?" asked Connie, concerned with Mercy's unexpected outburst. Connie reached out to touch Mercy's hand, forgetting momentarily that they were both nearly naked in the otherwise deserted locker room.

"I wouldn't know "how it is" because I've never had a man's cum in my pussy," Mercy sobbed. "I want to know, but..."

"Oh, sweetie, you're just being responsible," Connie comforted her. "I guess you always ALWAYS make them use a rubber, which is what you should do. It's what I should do too, I know. But I'm such a slut I just can't resist it, sometimes. I should think with my head instead of my cunt, really I should."

"NOOOOoooooo...." Mercy howled. "I've never...with a rubber...or without...."

Connie gathered her into her arms comfortingly. "There, there, now...you mean, you've never...uh, never been fucked at all?" Mercy nodded against Connie's shoulder, still shuddering with sobs. "Maybe you really prefer girls?" Mercy shook her head vehemently. "I love guys! I love to suck their big cocks, and I always let them come in my mouth if they want to. And I so want them to fuck me, but they won't...." Her sobs intensified, and Connie rocked her in her arms.

"Maybe you should try eating pussy, just to make sure," Connie suggested hopefully. And before Mercy knew exactly what had happened she found herself with her head buried between Connie's slick thighs as Connie reclined on the cold locker room bench. Mercy really did not want to lick Connie's sweaty pussy, but Connie had been so nice, and she was right there already....Gingerly Mercy extended her tongue and traced it along Connie's drooling slit. The mixture of male and female cum was delicious, and Mercy began to lap at it like a kitten with a saucer of cream. Connie sighed and spread her legs further, allowing a fresh wad of cum to leak out of her cunt. Mercy lapped it up eagerly and pushed her tongue into Connie's slippery hole as far as she could. She then substituted a finger, pushing it easily into Connie's hot tunnel as she suckled gently on her clit. Before Connie came explosively, smearing Mercy's pretty face with second-hand spunk, Mercy had thoroughly explored Connie's pussy with two fingers and was considering trying to work in a third as well.

"It doesn't get any better than that," Connie gasped, giggling. "Now lie back and let me do you."

It didn't take Connie long to discover Mercy's problem. "Honey, you have a miniature pussy," Connie told her as she gently worked a slender finger into Mercy's hole. "You're going to have to either find a guy with a miniature dick or get some kind of surgery to open this thing up."

"Surgery!" Mercy squeaked, sitting up in surprise and dislodging Connie's probing finger. "I don't want some guy with a knife to..."

"Oh, it's no big deal," Connie told her. "In the old days the little rich bitches used to get a doctor to pop their cherries surgically so they didn't have to deal with a bloody mess on their wedding nights." Connie glanced at her watch and hurriedly began to dress. "Sorry, but I'm late for a dinner date, gotta run, maybe we can get together sometime...?" And she was out the door before Mercy got her thoughts together enough to realize that, once again, she had been dumped because of her tiny pussy. Back in her apartment, Mercy began despondently surfing the web, looking for some kind of "virgin surgeon." She really didn't know where to start, and had no luck until she stumbled on a web site labeled "Hymen Busters Inc." Her hopes rose as she read the brief listing, which appeared to offer a service called "termination of virginity" and suggested that she present herself for examination and assessment at an office downtown. With shaking hand she copied the address carefully onto a slip of paper. She would check this out. Absolutely. It was time to take positive steps.

The very next morning Mercy was standing in front of the listed address, which turned out to be a small, shabby office building in a rather dilapidated section of town. Mustering her courage, she entered the lobby and took the elevator to the third floor. Room 312...there it was. With pounding heart, Mercy pulled the unmarked door open. A lone receptionist sat behind a battered desk in a grimy waiting room. She had a telephone clamped between her shoulder and head and was filing her fingernails as she talked.

"Sign these," she whispered around the phone. "He'll be right with you."

Mercy took the stack of papers and signed her name in several places without really reading them. One paper said "Release and Waiver" and appeared to be some legal thing. She assumed that it was a standard medical release form, and was grateful that she hadn't had to explain her embarrassing situation to the clearly unconcerned receptionist.

As Mercy handed the paperwork back to the still talking receptionist, a man in a white lab coat entered through a back door and smiled at her. "Come with me and we'll get started," he told her. "Change into this hospital gown while we get the range."

"Get the range?" Mercy wondered as she undressed. "What on earth..." But the man, (doctor?) was now talking into a cell phone and was paying no attention to her.

His conversation finished, the Doctor told Mercy to lie down on the exam table and put her feet in the stirrups. He knelt between her spread legs and peered at her furry pussy. "Sweet!" he breathed. This seemed a bit unprofessional to Mercy, but she was too nervous to complain. The Doctor gently spread the folds of Mercy's pussy, and examined her tiny entrance hole.

"Did she check your ID?" he asked sternly.

Mercy shook her head miserably. Was she going to be rejected again?

"That lazy bitch!" the doctor muttered. "You got ID then? With you?"

"Yes," Mercy stammered. "My license is in my purse there."

The man rose to his feet and rummaged in Mercy's purse. Finding her driver's license he examined it carefully. "You're really 19?" he grumbled. "Coulda fooled me. But the license looks legal. Make sure that stupid whore gets a photocopy before you leave, OK?"

The Doctor took a shiny instrument from a wall cabinet and returned to his kneeling position between Mercy's thighs. "We'll just get a close-up shot here, then," he remarked as he patted Mercy's pussy. "We want a good tight shot when it's this pretty, don't we?" Mercy, already uneasy about this whole peculiar affair, nearly panicked.

"You mean you're taking pictures?" she squeaked. "Is that, uh, usual?"

"Just for your medical records," the Doctor smirked. "Federal regulations, you know."

Before Mercy could object further, he again spread her pussy lips with one hand and gently pushed the cold metal instrument against Mercy's entrance. She shivered as it slid into her. When he had it in place he fiddled with a knob that seemed to expand the device, opening Mercy's tight pussy a little more with each turn. She tried to look down between her breasts to see what he was doing, but could see nothing.

"Oh ho, you want to see too, don't you?" The Doctor chuckled. "Well you're in luck, because we have the technology." He reached up and pulled down a video screen so that Mercy could see it. There on the screen before Mercy's eyes was the image of her own little cunny, with a metal thing sticking out of it. Somehow the Doctor zoomed in even closer, and she could see how she was being opened up. The Doctor adjusted the knob even more, and Mercy began to feel an uncomfortably cold draft invading her body.

"And there's that sweet little maidenhead, all intact," the Doctor breathed as the picture zoomed in to focus on her hymen. He gently prodded it with his forefinger and Mercy flinched at his touch. When he touched her there it was almost like an electric shock. "Now we'll just open you up a little more, OK? Not too much. We don't want to break that thing now, do we?"

Mercy was completely bewildered. "I came here to get it broken!" she exclaimed.

"Of course you did, dear, but not just yet, OK? First we're going to stretch you out just a little more. Relax now...that's right. Good. See, I can put my finger right in there now. But you want to be able to take more than a finger, don't you. Of course you do."

After tweaking the knob a few more turns, the Doctor rose to his feet again, and, to Mercy's horror, dropped his white pants to reveal a very hard, thick cock. "We'll just check the size now," he murmured soothingly as he guided himself toward her expanded hole.

The door from the waiting area burst open and the receptionist leaned in. She had an excellent view of Mercy's exposed pussy but didn't waste a second glance. "I think there's been a mistake," she whined.

The Doctor turned to face her, still holding his rigid cock in one hand. "Dammit, Julie, how many times have I told you not to come in here when the red light is on? Now get the hell out."

Julie rolled her eyes theatrically. "I'm trying to tell you, that actress you scheduled for this morning just got here. She was late, and I just thought this other one was her, but obviously she's not, and anyway, I don't recall the script calling for you to fuck her."

The Doctor ground his teeth in frustration. "I'll have to try to work that other bitch in later. I've already got 15 minutes of really good footage on this one and I'm going to continue with her. SO GET OUT!"

As the Doctor turned back toward her, Mercy noticed that his cock had begun to wilt. Just her luck. He shook it once or twice, cursing, and tucked it back into his pants. "Alright, cut then. We'll have to go with what we got, and if someone doesn't remind me to fire that stupid bitch TODAY I'm going to fire all of you!"




A Prayer for Mercy



Mercy was too confused to think. Who was he talking to? There was no one else in the room that she could see. Then the Doctor was talking again, apparently to her.

"We'll shoot the dance sequences next. Just a few short ones to set the mood. So pick a nice demure prom dress out of that closet. Then we'll go right into the motel scene." Gently he removed his instrument from her pussy. He left the room and Mercy could hear muffled shouting as he apparently berated the hapless receptionist. Mercy sorted through the dresses in the closet and chose a pure white ball gown which displayed her small breasts to perfection. She was brushing her hair when he came back.

"Perfect!" he whistled. "You are absolutely perfect. Now just go through that other door and we'll do a little ballroom stuff."

Inside the next room, which was dimly lit and decorated with rather tatty crepe-paper streamers, Mercy met a handsome young man in a tuxedo. He took her into his arms and guided her through a few slow dance steps, then bent her backwards and kissed her deeply. Mercy wondered if she was trapped in some weird dream. A voice from a hidden intercom instructed them to proceed to the "motel sound stage" and they exited, hand in hand, through still another door and found themselves in what appeared to be a cheap motel room, furnished with a saggy bed and not much else.

"I know it's not very nice, but it's all I could afford," the young man murmured as he took Mercy in his arms once again. "Someday I'll take you to the best hotels in town. But for now, if we can be alone together, that's all that counts, right?" Mercy leaned back to look into his face. "What the hell are you talking about?" she whispered.

"Cut, cut CUT!" demanded a voice from another unseen intercom speaker. "Did you even read the script? Dammit. We're trying to make a movie here, people, and time is money. Now listen up. The picture is "Prom Night Cherry Poppers." Sound familiar at all? And the story is about these hot girls and hunky guys who get themselves laid on prom night, okay? They're all virgins so they kind of fumble around, say cute things, and then fuck like minks. We want close-up shots of first penetration, the cherry pop, little virgin blood, then a good solid money shot. Now get each other undressed and let's see some fucking!"

"It has to be a dream," Mercy thought. "I've somehow become Alice in Wonderland."

Mercy's "date" began kissing her again and gently massaging her breasts through the ball gown. He slipped the lacy strap of the gown down over Mercy's shoulder to expose her pert breast, fondled it briefly, and sucked the nipple into his mouth. Mercy moaned and arched her back, forcing her pelvis against him. She felt his hard meat straining against his pants, and abandoned her misgivings to revel in the moment. Could she truly be about to get really and truly fucked?

He steered her clumsily back toward the bed, still kissing her hungrily until the edge of the bed hit the back of her knees and she fell backwards onto the mattress with him on top of her. They caressed each other briefly and began unbuttoning each other's clothes. He pulled her dress off entirely and flung it aside, then finished undressing himself until he was naked. He knelt and reverently lowered Mercy's damp panties to expose her sweet cunny. "Oh, Mary," he breathed. "You're so beautiful. I just want to hold you."

"I hope you want to do more than that," Mercy said saucily. She was really starting to get into this movie mood. "What's your name supposed to be?" she whispered softly, hoping that the recording equipment did not pick this up.

"His name is Dave, dammit!" announced the intercom. "And now I'm going to have to cut that and splice it. So get on with it, and try not to say anything stupid, OK?"

Stung with this rebuke, Mercy pressed herself against "Dave" and felt his hard tool against her belly. She glanced down and gasped. It was huge!

"I never guessed your cock was so big, Dave," Mercy moaned.

Dave chuckled. "You should have," he said. "You've felt it pressed up against you often enough."

"Seeing really is believing," Mercy giggled as she moved to inspect more closely the throbbing meat stick she held in her hand. It was truly a remarkable specimen, nearly as thick as Mercy's slender wrist and easily eight inches long above his hefty balls, sure to be bursting with hot lava. The head was an angry-looking purple color, and she noticed a generous dollop of pre-cum already forming at its tip. "May I kiss it?" she asked timidly.

"If you're good, I'll allow it," Dave snickered as he rolled onto his back to allow her access to his raging boner.

Mercy knelt over him, wiggling her cute ass for the camera as she took his swollen cock head into her mouth. Oh God, it was huge. She could imagine how obscene her lips must look stretched around this monstrous thing. Mercy did her best, but there was no way she could swallow more than half of it. She slurped and slobbered all over it, jacking it with one hand, then both as Dave moaned beneath her. When she sensed that his cum was beginning to boil in his massive balls Mercy slid up his muscular body to position herself over his cock. Taking a deep breath she prepared to impale herself.

Expertly, Dave grabbed Mercy before she could force herself down onto his rod and rolled her over so that he was above her. Moaning in frustration, she tried to get him to thrust into her in that position, but he had other ideas. Against her muffled protests, he settled his face between her thighs and began nuzzling her sweet pussy. After he had licked and caressed her thoroughly, he drew back to allow a close-up shot of her tiny twat. A spot-light on the ceiling intensified as he parted her pussy lips to reveal her entrance. Apparently it was still somewhat dilated, because his finger entered quite easily, at least until it encountered her troublesome hymen.

Mercy stifled a shriek with her hand as a bolt of sensation enveloped her slender body. Not quite pain, but not quite pleasure either, she reveled in the feeling and resisted her impulse to retreat from it.

"Let's do it, Mary," Dave rasped. "I need to be inside you. I can't stand it any more."

"We can't, Dave!" Mercy moaned as she pulled him up against her until his bulbous cock head was perfectly aligned with her eager pussy. "We promised my Dad we wouldn't..."

"He doesn't have to know, honey," Dave told her. "I just love you so much, baby. It's not wrong if we love each other, is it?"

The intercom interrupted. "I'm not getting a good shot here," it said. "There's not enough space down there. You're going to have to do her doggy-style."

Dave helped Mercy get onto her knees and held her in position as he once again aligned his big cock with her cunt. "Just put it in a little, honey," Mercy murmured. "And please be gentle."

"Just the head," Dave promised. "It won't hurt at all."

Mercy felt the hot, spongy cock head ease its way between her inner lips, stretching her tender hole first gently, then more insistently, and finally quite painfully as its rosy crown popped past the constricted entrance and came to rest against her elastic hymen. One little push and Mercy would be de-virginized forever!

"Are you OK?" Dave asked tenderly. "Do you want to stop?"

"NO!" Mercy wailed. "I want more!"

Obligingly, Dave thrust more firmly and Mercy felt her maidenhead stretch, absorbing the battering but dilating further with each thrust until at last his fat cock head popped through her hymen, tearing it to shreds. Mercy could not stifle her scream this time as the searing pain ravaged her body, but even as it quickly ebbed her desire for more became overwhelming.

"Oh, you're fucking me, Dave!" she squealed. "I want more, I want all of your big cock inside me!"

Dave began to withdraw. "Noooooo..." Mercy cried. "Don't stop now, honey! It doesn't hurt any more..." But even as she begged for more hard cock, Mercy knew that Dave was showing off his gory, blood-streaked fuck-stick to the camera. He pulled back until just the tip of him held her lips apart, no doubt to display her ravaged hole, and then thrust firmly back into her. Only this time he had no intention of stopping until he had everything but his balls buried in her newly opened sheath.

Mercy felt each exquisite sensation as the firm cock head scraped past the tattered remnants of her hymen and began to expand new territory. Time and space began to merge and diverge in her mind, all conscious thought fled, and, as if from a distance she heard a girl moaning and crying and begging to be fucked. In a lucid flash she realized that the girl was her, and she bit down on her own knuckles to make sure she did not lapse into unconsciousness. It seemed to take hours of relentless pressure, laced with pain, before she finally felt his prickly pubic hair against her ass and knew for sure that he had truly fucked his cock into her all the way to the hilt.

At that point Mercy thought she had been thoroughly fucked, but she was only beginning to find out what fucking was really all about. Dave withdrew about two inches of his massive rod, with some difficulty due to the incredible tightness of her, and pushed back into her forcefully, his balls slapping against her clit. On the next thrust he gave her three inches, and then four, until finally he was long-dicking her vigorously, her overflowing juices squishing obscenely as his cock abused her tight pussy. Mercy took the pounding passively. She wanted to move her ass for him, she wanted it to be nice for him, but she seemed to be paralyzed from the waist down. Dave was supporting all her weight with one arm around her waist as he continued to fuck her hard and fast. Her head whirling with unfamiliar sensations, Mercy suddenly recognized a sensation with which she was indeed familiar. She was about to come, and she was going to come hard. "I'm gonna come, honey," she croaked. "You're making me come, fucking me like that with your big cock in my pussy."

"Cut!" shouted the intercom. "That's enough doggy-style. Let's do a few minutes with her on top, get some good shots of her ass and tits. Then we'll finish up with the old missionary position."

Sobbing with frustration, Mercy got into position above Dave's sopping cock and settled back onto it. It hardly hurt at all as it sank into her to the hilt, and as she rotated her hips her feeling of impending orgasm returned in earnest. "I'm gonna come for you baby," she moaned. It hit her with the force of a volcanic eruption. Mercy sat bolt upright, taking even more of his massive cock into her as her cunt expanded briefly and then clamped down on him like a Chinese finger-trap.

Mercy must have lost consciousness momentarily, because the next event she was aware of was Dave repositioning her tenderly on her back so that he could continue to fuck her. "I came," Mercy murmured.

"I noticed," Dave smiled. "I heard it and I felt it, and after awhile I'm going to taste it. But first I think you need some more cock." And, pulling her legs up around his waist, he proceeded to give her exactly that.

Dave fucked her steadily, for what seemed like a long time, and Mercy was starting to get the feeling that she was about to come again. She wanted to, of course, but she wasn't sure if she could take it in her weakened state, and she certainly wanted to be conscious when another of her dreams came true: the long cherished dream of a hard cock spurting its hot load deep into her pussy.

"Oh, Mary, I think I'm coming," Dave blurted. "I can't hold it back any more, Mary. Do you want me to come?"

"Yes, Dave, I want you to come! I want you to come inside me! I want all your hot spunk in my pussy!"

"NO, DAMMIT!" the intercom blared. "You're supposed to be afraid of getting knocked up, and you make him pull out and come all over you! I want to see her soaked with cum. One good shot on the belly, a squirt on the tits, and then a messy facial. DO NOT COME IN HER --"

But, alas, this instruction came a moment too late. Or perhaps Dave came a moment too soon. Dave was known as a master of control, but Mercy's plea for his hot spunk was too much for him, and his sticky load burst out of him, filling Mercy's narrow channel completely with the first shot. Mercy shrieked her delight as he drew back and thrust deep into her again, expelling his first blast of jism back onto his own quivering balls even as his second shot spurted into her. Mercy counted each spasm of his thick cock as he emptied himself into her.

When at last he was calm, Mercy kissed him tenderly. "You came in my pussy, " she whispered.

"I didn't mean to, honey," Dave murmured feebly. "I tried to pull out; I really did."

"I know, baby," Mercy crooned. "Don't worry about it. And maybe you can get it right next time, hmmm? But for right now, I'm laying in a big puddle of cum, so maybe you could help me clean up a little?"

"I couldn't possibly get up right now," Dave mumbled.

"Oh, you don't need to get up out of bed," Mercy said thoughtfully as she rolled him onto his back. "I'll be happy to help you." And help she did, as she straddled his head and let his freshly deposited load of spunk drizzle out of her newly reamed pussy and directly into his open mouth.

As Dave lapped at her ravaged slit, Mercy looked back over her shoulder. "Did you catch that, Intercom? Was that hot enough for you?"

The only response was a rapid and repeated slapping sound. Intercom was apparently beating his own meat.



A Prayer for Santa



Author's Note:

Jake Rivers is my new pseudonym to replace Dynamite Jack. The first of the year I will be changing all of my stories over to my new id. Thanks to the many readers that have given support and encouragement.

Thanks to techsan for his editing help.

Early December - Charlie

People think it's easy to do this Santa Claus crap at the department stores. 

I'm here to tell you it's one hell of a lot of work. All day, every day for a few weeks in that damn Santa get up. How would you like to wear that sweat soaked outfit day after day until it gets so wet and smelly so that you couldn't stand it yourself.

And the kids? People have this strange idea that, especially at Christmas time, kids are charming little angels. They are not! Most of them are little devils that pull on my beard to see if it's real then put their gum in it when they find out it's not. Spiteful brats!

All day, every day ... "Santa, I want a Playstation 3. Make sure it's a 3 'cause I already got a 2 and I don't want another one of those. Are you really that fat? Is that you that smells?"

Or, "Mr. Santa Claus? You have to give me two Barbie dolls this year 'cause last year I only got one and my friend Jamie got two. So, Mr. Santa Claus, you won't be fair if you don't give me two this year. Ewww! What's that smell?"

Hey, kid, you wear this get up, day after day. You will smell just like me.

And the lines ... I didn't realize there were so many kids in this damn city. 

Worst of all were the parents. 

"I'm watching you, mister. You put one hand on my little girl and I'll put you in jail. God, you smell awful! Do you live in a bar?"

Well, lady, you would smell too if you had to wear this damn suit and you, too, would smell like a brewery if you drank all day just to get through it!

So I had a pint before I could get going in the morning. So I hit the flask every time I took a bathroom break. So I had a whole hell of a lot more when I got back to the dirty flophouse every night. I'd learned early that, if you were blitzed enough, the every evening fight between the roaches and the rats was more entertaining than not. I'd learned to put my money on the roaches. 

There were just so many of them ... they kept coming, and coming. I now know how the peasants felt when the Mongolian hordes were running rapaciously through the land. They ... just ... kept ... on ... coming.

Came the day I pretty much died. It started like any other day - lousy. The bedbugs were getting to me; I was dirty, drunk, sick. But if I didn't go play Santa Claus I couldn't buy more rye. Yeah, I had fallen so low that I was drinking Rye Whisky.  

How's that old song go? Oh, yeah,

Rye whisky, rye whisky, Rye whisky, I cry, If you don't give me rye whisky, I surely will die.

And today felt like the day I would surely die.

I did make it in, somehow. I noticed how much room I had on the crowded subway. 

Hey, lady, there is a seat here.

I guess she wants to stand up -- usually pregnant ladies like to sit.

I finally got to the department store -- not too late. Yeah, I got my ass chewed, but since that happened every day I didn't sweat it. 

I started working my way through the lines. Bathroom break; snort. More kids, snort. Damn, the flask is almost empty.

"Santa, I want a new computer, a wide screen TV, a new bicycle, some more games for my Xbox, ... "

Sure, kid. Whatever you say.

"Santa Daddy, when are you coming home?"

What? Ohmigod ... it's Carla! My sweet little first grader -- so pretty in her plaid skirt and white blouse. Small for her age, but so smart.

"Santa Claus! Daddy. I miss you, please come home."

Tears in her eyes. Tears in mine. I looked around for June but between my alcoholic daze and the wetness in my eyes I couldn't see her. I jumped up and ran for the bathroom. Sat in a stall to hide. Finished my flask. Carla. June. Cramps in my stomach ... when did I eat last? I tried to get up -- the stall door fell open and I fell, twisted, turned, tried to stand -- the sink rushing at me. 

Quiet. A light? Blackness. Noise, bustle. Sirens? Whispers, hands grabbing me, the ... what? Nothing. Silence. Peace.

Dreams - Charlie

I drank. That's who I was, what I did. Oh, not all the time. I was good at faking it. Vodka when I had to. 

June, that beautiful lass. Hair of gold, eyes the translucent blue glow of an alpine lake. Soft skin, oh, so soft. A quiet beauty, my quiet beauty. Cut down on the drinking, yeah, I lied to her by my falseness. Love so beautiful. I tried - oh God, I tried to stop drinking.

A disease, I heard on the TV one night. Naw, it's good ... it gave me peace and confidence. It was my friend ... how could it be bad? 'Sides, I never got violent like real drunks do. I just got sleepy, so sleepy. But warm, fuzzy. 

Carla came along, singing a song, even in my dreams I still imagine things -- but I can't piece it together.

Carla, my little beauty. My love. I lied to June -- I hid things from her. But, Carla. No, I couldn't. I tried. I really tried. I cut back. Just drank beer. Yeah, sure! Carla my life.

Then that night. I was on a bender ... hadn't been home for two days. June came looking for me -- found me -- in back of Lenny's Tavern with the local bar slut. She saw my car. Wasn't sure. Opened the door. Started crying, crying, running, running away from me. Bar slut laughed and handed me the bottle. The next day I was in jail and June wouldn't come. 

She didn't ever come anymore. My sister called a lawyer for me from her home in Washington and he got me out on a misdemeanor "drunk in public" -- no more, my sister said -- and I moved to the Roach Motel. Or was it the Rat Motel. The Roach and Rat Motel. One day a guy came by and gave me some papers. I tried to read them but they were all fuzzy and everything was doubled. 

Then I ran out of money and one of the other Roach Motel residents, my friend and neighbor, told me about the Santa gig. He had an extra suit and beard so I did that and got booze and watched the rats and roaches fight and the kids asked for everything and gave nothing.

Now these machines whirring beeping shots bottles dripping I don't know what and those white uniforms fussing and bitching. One was nice -- Lee Anne. An image, chubby but not fat, nice ... smelled good why didn't I stink anymore?

June

"Come on, honey, say your prayers." 

"Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take."

"And I pray for grandma and grandpa. I pray for Bert and Ernie that they stop fighting. And I pray for Santa Daddy. Please, God, bring my daddy home to me and mommy.

"Amen."

I tucked her in, trying not to let her see my tears. I gave her a big hug and went down to finish in the kitchen. Everything done I fixed a big mug of Eggnog. Ever since I had figured out that Charlie had a drinking problem I quit putting brandy in it. I didn't miss it at all. The warmth of the mug comforted me as I thought about what had happened at the mall that day.

I was frazzled, a bit, trying to buy stuff for Carla without her seeing it and getting stuff for Judy, my sister's kids. As a ruse to distract Carla from what I was buying I sent her out to get in line for Santa Claus. 

I got what I wanted but there was a problem with the credit card machine. The clerk had to phone the charge in. I could see my baby through the store window and I wanted to be there when she saw Santa. 

Running a little, I got there just as I heard her say, "Santa Daddy, when are you coming home?"

I looked closer. Oh, no. It was Charlie. I stood there stunned, as Carla continued, "Santa Claus! Daddy. I miss you, please come home."

With that, Santa Claus, Charlie, got up and started running.

Carla started crying, inconsolably, as she saw her daddy running away instead of coming home. All I could do was hold her and cry myself.

~~~~~ 

It had all gone bad so quickly. I loved Charlie more than anything. It wasn't until I was pregnant with Carla that he started coming home late -- coming home smelling of cigarette smoke and bars. I tried to talk to him but he would just laugh and hold me, give me a big kiss. I don't think he even noticed when I started turning away from him. 

I could see the beginning of the end when he lost his job as a software salesman for missing too many client appointments. He had been one of their top performers but when his sales plummeted they could only keep him for so much time.

I tried, I really tried. He would be doing okay then once every few months he would go off on what I call "Charlie's walkabout." I wouldn't see him for a couple of days then he would stumble home, smelly, dirty, drunk, sick with the alcohol. I'd nurse him back to health and he would cry and promise to stop drinking. 

Yeah, he'd try for a while but it never lasted. I started finding his stashes and pouring them down the sink. He would get quite inventive ... hiding bottles in the pool house, in the tree house he built for Carla, in the trunk of his car. I even found a couple of bottles in the pockets of his golf bag -- he hadn't been golfing for years.

I pleaded with him to get help. I cried; I cajoled -- even threatened. He was never mean or anything. Sometimes I wished he were so I could just throw him out. This dragged on for a long time ... until that night about a year ago. He'd been gone for several days but by then I knew which bars he would haunt. 

I didn't see him but remembered once when I was looking for him. He was parked behind a bar, sleeping it off. So I started over and, at the second bar, I did find his car in the rear parking lot.

I assumed he was asleep so I pulled up and got out, leaving my headlights on. Yeah, he was there -- with some tramp from the bar.

Well, that tore it for me. I'd put up with so much, too much really, but I couldn't do it anymore.

I told him the next time he was sober to move out. He didn't fight too much ... just stood there with a hangdog look on his face. 

It was hard on me. Damn, I loved the guy. It was even harder on Carla. Even when he was drunk he was the sweetest guy and the best father. I might have held on with just the drinking but sleeping around wouldn't work for me. I wouldn't divorce him because of our religion but I sure didn't have to live with him.

After he moved out, he came around about once a week to see Carla. I'm sure he wanted to see me too but I made sure to stay in the back of the house while he was there. Oh, I'd say hello and goodbye -- but it hurt so bad to even see him. After awhile it was about once a month and now it had been two months since he had visited.

The last time he came I'd talked to him.

"Charlie, get some help. Don't do it for us, do it for you. Please, baby?"

I was worried about Carla if Charlie came by really drunk, so I got an Order for Protection to keep him away. Not that I thought he would do anything intentionally but he could set the house on fire and never know the difference.

But it didn't work and now he was Santa Daddy and he looked in terrible shape. Then I got the phone call from the hospital.

Detox -- Charlie

Things were hazy when I started coming around. A nurse came in -- maybe a little pleasingly plump - with a nametag on that said Lee Anne. She looked familiar -- her name sounded familiar. But with the cotton in my head I couldn't put it together.

She saw I was awake -- sort of anyway -- and asked, "Do you go by Charles or Charlie?"

Mumbling as best I could, I answered, "Charlie."

With a smile, she responded, "Okay, Charlie. I'll let the doctor give you the details but basically there are three steps: get you stabilized from the abuse you have heaped on your body," here she paused and smiled to take the sting out of her words, "work out a place for an extended stay rehabilitation and then put together an ongoing treatment program."

The way my body felt I couldn't argue with her about what I had been doing to my body for too many years. 

We talked for a bit about what my treatment would involve from her perspective and she left me to nod off.

Later the doctor came in. He was about my age, maybe mid-thirties, with a no-nonsense style that I liked. He was straight forward and laid it all on the line. 

"I'm Doctor Wilson. I'll tell you up front that I'm not noted for my bedside manner. The way I see it is that it's your body, your life and you can do with it what you want. If you are motivated, I can do a lot to help you. If you aren't, I would suggest you ask for another physician. So, what do you say, Mr. Fleming? By the way, you can call me Doc -- even my wife does."

Thinking about how I was feeling and what my life had been like I knew I had no choice. I couldn't get the image of Carla out of my head as she asked for her, "Santa Daddy" to come home.

"Okay, Doc. I'll call you that if you call me Charlie. I'll try my best, that's all I can say. I just ask that you always tell me everything and be honest with me."

"Sure, I can do that Charlie. Let's get to it then. You came here with alcohol poisoning. If you had passed out at your apartment, you might have died. I'm not saying that just to impress on you the severity of your disease -- that's a cold fact. Your breathing was down to around ten breaths per minute with several periods where you didn't breath at all for at least ten seconds. Your skin was cold, clammy, pale, and bluish in color.

"The concentration of alcohol in your brain gets high enough to depress the brain functions responsible for consciousness and respiration. You were very close to slipping into a coma. You also have early stage cirrhosis of the liver.

"Charlie, the main thing to worry about now is the detox process. Alcohol has been in your system for so long that when we take it out, your body will react violently. This reaction can be fatal. Your body will convulse and become nauseous. This will be very uncomfortable. Because of the hazards involved, we will complete this detox process here at the hospital.

"Any questions so far?"

This all sounded pretty scary to me. "Doc, will this take care of my alcoholism?" There, I said it! I had avoided the term even in my thoughts because I knew I couldn't face up to it.

"No, Charlie. Our immediate concern was to stabilize your body -- that seems to be coming along okay. Next will be the process of getting the alcohol out of your system. The three main concerns are your physical wellness, your emotional stability and your ongoing health. For the last we will have a nutritionist to work out a plan for a healthy diet. 

"I'll be available for the medical stuff and we will have a counselor help you with the emotional baggage. Let me be clear, Charlie. This is only the first step. The next part will be rehabilitation. Once your body reaches a satisfactory level of health you must build it up again. 

"I'm checking with your insurance company on a place in Belize. Normally they wouldn't pay for out-of-the-country treatment but I can show them that effective treatment can cost less. They aren't completely convinced but they have agreed to cover half of the non-travel costs. The guy that runs it was my roommate at medical college and he has agreed to take you for half price. So basically you would just have to pay the travel costs. I'll talk to you more about this later."

I assimilated that. "Doc, what about visitors?"

"Your wife is outside now. She can come in for a few minutes. Your daughter can come in this afternoon but after that I don't want her to see what you will be going through with detox. Your wife is welcome anytime if she wants and has the stomach for it. Do you want your wife to come in now?"

Detox -- June

Sitting in the sad waiting room was a poignant experience. Carla was at my mom's and I was waiting to hear from the doctor. I'd talked to the nurse briefly and she said they were doing their best to keep Charlie from slipping into a coma.

My thoughts were a chaotic jumble. How did I feel about Charlie? I loved him. I hated him ... not so much him but what he had done to himself and to Carla and me. He was an alcoholic -- there was no getting around that. Intellectually I knew alcoholism was a disease but emotionally it felt to me like we weren't important enough for him to stop drinking. 

I hated what he had done with that woman. Did I want revenge on him? No, I really didn't see myself doing that. Sure, I have the same needs and urges of any healthy woman. Carla was too important to me -- I had this scenario that would go through my head when some man would make a pass at me. It's like what my mom told me when I was a girl: "If you are going to do anything you aren't really sure of, stop and think if you would do it if Jesus were watching."

For me, it was how would I feel and would I do it if Carla were watching. And I really did still love Charlie. It would be hard to take him back -- it would be hard to forgive him. But I couldn't even think about it as long as he had this sickness in him.

Finally the doctor came out and gave me a heads up on Charlie's condition. He emphasized what the withdrawal process would be like and asked me to schedule an appointment to talk about his rehab.

He gave me a hard look, "That is, Mrs. Fleming, if you want to be involved. I understand that you and Charlie are estranged?"

Wow! There it was, staring me right in my face. The doctor was looking at me like he knew I didn't have the guts to help Charlie. Dammit, I did! I would do this and bring our family back together. The thought scared me; really scared me but I knew I had to do it. It was the only hope for our family to be happy.

With determination I replied to the doctor, "I'll do what I need to. Can I see him now?"

Still looking somewhat doubtful -- I guess he had seen enough to be a bit of a cynic -- he led me in to see Charlie.

It pained me to see him. There was an ugly bruise on his forehead and he looked tired ... and ten years too old. I tried to be brave and hold my tears. I failed miserably. I leaned carefully into Charlie, avoiding the tubes and equipment clustered around.

I felt his arms go around my back and hold me, listlessly it seemed. I sat up and saw the pain and humiliation in his face.

"Charlie, we're going to beat this. I love you and Carla needs her father back. We will lick this together."

Something sad showed in his eyes ... I could see his thoughts were on the terrible impact his drinking had caused us. His hands were shaking and there was a tremble in his voice.

"Do you ... June, do you really still have some love left after all that I've done? Can we still be a family? God, I'm so sorry, so sorry. Help me, June, please help me!"

He started crying and I brushed the salty tears away with my lips.

"I'll help you, Charlie. I'll be there every step of the way. Where you walk, I will walk. Where you go, I will be alongside. Just get well, please. That's all I ask of you."

I held him, thinking turbulent thoughts. I wasn't nearly as strong as he thought I was. How could I help him? It was all I could do to take care of Carla and myself. 

Later I brought our daughter in. It was sad to see the pain on her face as she looked at Charlie. She was sitting on the bed as close to him as she could get. 

She was rubbing her hand on his cheek and asked, "Daddy, why aren't you Santa anymore? Are you okay? I love you, daddy. Are you going to come home now?"

Charlie just held her as close as he could and let her chatter on. That night Carla prayed for her Santa Daddy again. 

The next few days were hell for Charlie as the withdrawal symptoms started showing up. At times he would be agitated and even confused. Several times he couldn't remember what had happened at the department store. He had little appetite and his skin was clammy and pale. I think the worst for him was the insomnia -- the nights were long for him. He would awaken and try to put his life back together.




A Prayer for Santa



I took a leave from my job as a secretary at our local Parish -- Father Bob said he could get some volunteers to help out and I could come in whenever I could to help them over the rough spots. More and more I would take Carla over to Mom's house and stay with Charlie in the dark hours. He would look nervous much of the time, particularly the first few days. Some nights he would be lucid and other nights he would have trouble thinking clearly.

I think all of this was almost as hard on me as it was on Charlie. After a couple of weeks, Charlie starting gradually improving. It wasn't a sudden thing at all, more like a gradual improvement with occasional relapses.

One night I'd dozed off in the chair and woke to find my husband looking at me.

"June, you look exhausted! I'm doing better -- I think the worst is over. I know that neither of us could ever do that again."

He looked sad and continued, "I know you still love me. No one could do what you have done for me without a strong love to support it. I will get through this but I don't know what or who I will be. You've stood by me but I don't know if I will be someone you would want to live with."

I moved over to the bed and held him. "Charlie, let's just take this a little at a time and do the best we can. That's all either of us can do. I do love you honey but ... well this is changing me too. I guess I have the same questions as you do. Will you still want me when you are ... well, better?"

We held each other for a while, then Charlie asked me to start coming in days.

"Doc said you could start bringing in Carla to visit now. He thinks I can be released in another week or two. Did he talk to you about this place in Belize?"

"Yes, Honey. It sounds wonderful. I understand the treatment is for twenty-eight days and you can stay longer if you need to."

"Yeah, and I can have visitors. I don't know if we will be able to afford for you and Carla to come down. We will have to see."

I gave him a bigger hug and a sweet kiss and went on to Mom's place. I would take a nap over there and take Carla home in the morning.

Rehab -- Charlie

The place for my rehab turned out to be lovely. It was outside of a small town in Belize called Corozal and was right on Chetumal Bay -- just a few miles from Mexico. It was beautiful, modern and quite comfortable.

Their program was centered on a twelve step based treatment like Alcoholics Anonymous uses. As I learned on my first day, 

We use a systemic approach to assess and define the clinical, physical, and nutritional goals for each resident. Individual treatment plans are developed to help each resident achieve mental, emotional, and physical harmony.

It sound a little dry but I came to realize there was a big focus on physical activities. They had riding horses, sailboats, a full gym, massages, just about everything I could want. The rooms were small but clean and cheerful. My window looked out onto the bay. I grew to really like early morning walks on the beach.

I was amazed at how weak I was. The first week I had trouble sleeping; I was just too tired. But as my body, along with my mind, was cleansed I started putting on weight and regaining some strength. I was still tired now ... but it was the tiredness of honest exercises and not that of exhaustion.

June called every other day or so and gradually we talked longer and longer. I had never lost my love for her but I was realizing, remembering just how much I loved her. Driving me each day was my dream of putting my family back together.

It wasn't all easy -- I had some really hard spots. I would see a glass of the tropical fruit juices they would give us and I could taste what it would be like with alcohol in it just by looking. I would become light headed with my aching need. I found that hard exercise worked the best. I'd find someone for racquetball or a pickup basketball game. At night or if I couldn't find anyone, I'd go for a jog along the beach and maybe a swim in the warm water.

Sometimes when I felt overwhelmed I'd call June and she would talk me through it. I knew that eventually I would have to find the strength from within ... but for now she was my support and helped me out through some bad times.

One night she made me cry.

"Charlie, I've joined Al-Anon. I've started weekly meetings and, oh, Charlie, it helps me so much! It's a wonderful group of men and women; last night there were eight women and four men. We share our experiences, and find strength and hope with each other. We share our feelings and frustrations. Each of our stories is different but that helps us to understand we are not alone. We come together to strive for a better life. 

"I've carried this alone for so long and now there are others to help me. Charlie, I hope you will find an AA group when you get home."

She went on to tell me she had the Order For Protection lifted but I had no idea what she was talking about so I didn't say anything.

~~~~~~ 

Time passed and I gradually got better. My physical health improved greatly but I still had a long way to go. I had daily workouts with a trainer. I talked things over with my counselor and called my doctor at home a couple of times. 

The sessions at this place were for twenty-eight days and could be repeated as necessary. Doctor Wilson convinced the insurance company to go for another session. This time they were going to cover the whole thing. 

They had agreed to do a formal study and send several people over the next year. They were planning on tracking costs and follow-up programs to determine the success rates. I'd been in business enough to know that the only thing they really cared about was how it would impact their bottom line.

So I signed up for another twenty-eight day session. I had three days in before the next session started. There were about half a dozen of us that stayed at the facility in between sessions.

I was at the stables taking care of my horse when I heard a page for me to report to the front desk. Part of our therapy was to learn to take care of the horse that was assigned to us. I grew to like it and began thinking about looking for a place close enough to Portland to keep a couple of horses. I knew Carla would love to have one.

Meanwhile I was learning all I would ever need about caring for a horse. I did all the grooming, mucking out and exercising for Pearl; an off-white mare that I guessed was close to pearl in color. I grew to love the old lady and would miss her when I left.

I walked into the lobby and stood uncertainly waiting for my eyes to adjust to the relative dimness of the lobby after being in the bright, tropical sun.

"Charlie!" I heard as a woman grabbed hold of me and tried to squeeze me to death. It was June.

I was floored; I had no idea she was coming.

"The Women's Club at the Parish had a bake sale and bought me a ticket to come down. I'm sure Father Bob was behind this. He said he missed the challenging talks you would have with him about the problems with the world.

"Anyway I'm here and I can stay for four days."

They had already put her suitcase in my room. It was lunchtime so I led her over to the cafeteria -- it was an open walled building built close to the edge of the bay. It was warm out but the fresh breeze and the overhead fan made it enjoyable. Lunch was a simple meal of fresh caught fish and rice. I had no idea how it tasted. June had started working out and looked great.

We went back to the room and I sat on the balcony looking at the water while June took a shower. She called me in and we came together in a fierce coupling -- our need for each other almost overwhelming us. We fell asleep in the afternoon warmth and woke up to come together again. This time it was slow, with time to explore the forgotten nooks and crannies of the other's body. Neither of us had been with anyone during the year we had been apart. 

The time together was glorious -- our love was renewed, refreshed. We talked often of the problems we would face and committed to work to put our family back together. Our parting was full of sweet sorrow and washed by our tears.

I was sad that night, alone in my room. Her love was a lingering presence, though, that helped me through that night and the nights to come. 

The second session was easier and harder. I was starting to get in great shape. At first I had gained weight as I added muscle mass. Now I was losing a little of that as I toned up and got rid of some flab I had put on through my drinking years.

What was hard was dealing with my impatience to get home to my family. I was a bit scared -- I would lose the support of being in an artificial, closed environment. Could I deal with everything when I could do anything I chose to? In the evening chats with June I shared my fears.

To Live and Love Again - Charlie

Homecoming was a real high -- June had a party, a small one, just family -- and there were tears shed. The love we all had for one another was incredible. June's folks and her sister Judy with her kids had driven over to Beaverton from their home in Portland. We had an acre on SW Denny Road. My parents flew up from San Jose and my sister drove down from Walla Walla, up in the Washington apple country. 

The next morning dawned quiet. It was a bit of a let down after the warmth of the reunion of the night before.

June fixed me a nice breakfast and over coffee we talked.

"Charlie, there is an AA meeting tonight, and every Tuesday, in the party room at the pizza place down from my the grocery store."

She looked a bit hesitant, and added, "Charlie, could you go for me? I mean, could you go for you?" 

She looked scared that I'd say no or get upset.

"Honey, will you keep going to Al-Anon for me?" I asked her.

She came over and sat on my lap, crying, holding me.

"Charlie, Father Bob said he would take you tonight. Did you know he's been an alcoholic for ten years? He usually goes to a support group of other priests but he goes here sometimes.

So I went to the meeting. There were about ten people there -- mostly guys but two women. A couple of them were finishing off a pizza while everyone was coming in. The meeting got started; everyone was very welcoming. Then one of the women got up and started talking.

My name is Jenny and I'm an alcoholic. And now I know that I will always be an alcoholic and that only with the support of friends and family and a caring group like this can I stay sober. 

Today, each and every day, my mornings are a lot easier. I wake up knowing exactly what I did the night before. That is a really awesome feeling. I've been busy with work, meetings, breathing, sleeping, eating, and putting one foot in front of the other ... and taking it one step at a time.

I've started painting again and my little boy can even tell what my pictures are supposed to be.

As you know I started at this AA meeting a couple of months ago. I was, like you know, this is an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. Why is this so hard for me? Why am I here? 

And then one of the guys - yeah, you Joe - said, "Did you get out of bed this morning, brush your teeth, and eat breakfast?"

"Yes, of course," I replied.

"Well, did you find any of that to be particularly difficult?"

I answered, not knowing where he was going, "Well, no."

To which he said, "Tell me about a typical morning routine when you were drinking."

Oh, yeah! As I thought back to those mornings after a binge, I slowly realized what he was pointing out. I don't know about you guys but my mornings were something I don't want to remember ... or do again!

I'd wake up in the dark hours of the morning when the booze had worn off and my nerves would start screaming. I'd have a terrible headache, a foul tasting dry mouth, and my stomach would feel like I had gone to town on Jalapeños the night before. 

I'd crawl to the bathroom and find something, anything, to quiet the war between my stomach and my head. I'd get to the kitchen as best as I could for the last thing my stomach wanted ... but from experience I knew would help — several large glasses of water. 

By then I'd be feeling lightheaded and usually quite nauseous, and about to head for the bathroom to worship my porcelain god. I'd be promising my maker and everyone I knew -- and even those I hadn't met yet - that I wasn't gonna drink anymore. Then I'd go back to bed to die or feel better ... whichever came first. By that time I really didn't care anymore. 

After sharing that, Joe asked me, "Isn't it much easier to get up in the mornings now?"

I laughed and agreed with him. My mornings are so much easier now, thanks to y'all. It's not easy but I deal with it. I take one step at a time one day at a time. I don't live for yesterday and not for tomorrow. I live for now, for this moment, and with your prayers I'll stay sober for this one more day. I haven't had a drink in fifty-three days. 

I love you guys. God bless you!

After the meeting, several of the guys came by to introduce themselves -- it seemed like a great group. From looking at them you would never know that they were all alcoholics. But then when I would look in the mirror, it never occurred to me to say to myself: "Hey, look. That guy is an alcoholic!" 

Father Bob stayed for a while afterwards and we lingered over a cup of coffee.

"Charlie, I guess you never knew I was a drinker, did you?"

Considering that I had never seen him take a drink, I replied, "No, Bob. I just thought that you didn't drink."

"Yeah, I went through it all. It's lonely being a priest. That might sound funny, surrounded by people like I am all the time. But at night, well, it gets lonely. Time hangs heavy and there is always booze available around a parish. I've been sober for years but I still get about a dozen bottles of this or that at Christmas each year.

"What about you, Charlie? You doing okay?"

"I guess so. It's hard -- I thought that once I got through detox and rehab that the craving would go away."

"No, Charles, it doesn't work that way. There isn't a day that goes by ... hell, even an hour that goes by that I don't crave alcohol. Canon law allows non-alcoholic wine for 'pastoral reasons' so I don't use the real wine for myself. If you, or anyone else, want to do the same I can set that up.

"This will be the hardest thing for you. The temptation is so strong: 'Oh, a small glass of white wine will be okay' or 'Shoot, this is part of communion, shouldn't be a problem.' The only thing that works for me, for you or for anyone is zero tolerance."

I must have looked a little discouraged at that, because he continued, "Hey, you won't be alone in this. If you want I can be your sponsor. It's like being a big brother. I'll be there for you anytime you need me. If you feel you have to have a drink at two in the morning, call me. Or if you just want to talk, let me know."

I went on home buoyed by the thought that there was a group there for me and that Father Bob had stepped up to the plate for me personally.

Other things helped bolster my confidence. I stopped by and talked to my old boss at Financial Software Sales and Service. I knew him pretty good and he came right out and asked if I was going to AA. He agreed to take me back on a trial basis, "But if I see you take even one drink you're outta here and there won't be any coming back."

Carla was a special joy for me. She was very clingy for the first few weeks but settled down to just being "my girl." I spent a lot of time with her, playing games, reading books to each other. I was amazed that I had so much time available. I guess in a very real way my hobby had been to be a drunk and that had so consumed me that it was all I did and all that I was.

June was so happy but it was like she was walking on eggshells. She was so proud of me and very supportive but it was like she couldn't believe I was better. Some days I couldn't believe it either!

As the months went on we both started relaxing somewhat. We both went to our weekly meetings religiously and during the week we would talk about our experiences. We didn't talk about what others had said at the meetings -- that, of course, was verboten. We would discuss in more generality, like: "There was a guy that had just completed three years of being sober -- we had a cake for him." or "One of the guys was struggling and asked for our prayers. It helps me to know I'm not alone."

To Live and Love Again - June

It wasn't until Thanksgiving that I started feeling like the dream was real and wouldn't turn back into a nightmare. We all got together at my mom and dad's house -- everyone from both of our families came.

For the prayer at dinner we kept to the family custom -- we went around and each person said one thing they were thankful for. When Carla said, "I'm glad to have my daddy home again," there wasn't a dry eye at the table.

One thing that could have been a problem that worked out okay was whether to have wine with the ham and turkey. Traditionally we always served a nice Gewürztraminer from the Alsace -- it always seemed to go so well with the traditional flavors of the holiday. We talked it over and agreed that it would be impossible to never be exposed to drink, and as Charlie said, "I'll just have to learn how to suck it up."

It worked out fine. The ones that usually drank the wine, except for Charlie and I, drank it quite naturally. I didn't have any just to show Charlie my support for him. A week later he took some clients to lunch and knew what kind of wine they liked so he just ordered it. I was so proud of him.

During the Christmas season Charlie worked with Father Bob and a friend of his, a Salvation Army minister. He would go around to soup kitchens, special parties for children, anywhere he could be useful and help out with a Santa Claus costume on.

"June, it is so nice to go around in a clean outfit," he laughed one night. He was now very meticulous about cleanliness and dressing nicely. He had continued with his exercise program and none of his old clothes fit him any more.

One night he didn't have time to change so he got the idea of showing up still dressed as Santa Claus and surprise Carla. He would just ask her what she wanted for Christmas. Well, she's the one that surprised us.

"Santa Daddy, I don't want anything. You're home again and there's nothing I prayed for more." She threw her arms around him and tried to squeeze him to death. It turned into a hug fest and we were closer together as a family that night than ever before.

I had given up on Charlie but he hadn't given up on himself!

Tomorrow, The Next Day, And All The days To Come, One Day At A Time -- Charlie

I was much more comfortable now -- I was better able to live with who I had been and who I was now. One thing I hadn't done was stand up at my weekly AA meeting and tell them my story. I just had never felt ready. Finally, the first meeting after the holidays, I knew it was time.

In the pizza place meeting room I stood up and looked at everyone. I made eye contact and gave each of them a brief nod.

"Hi, I'm Charlie and I'm an alcoholic. This is my story ... " 



A Prayer to the Sex God



It was another sticky humid day in the jungle. Sweat ran down my temple as the mosquitoes seemed to be climbing over each other to get at my skin. Friggin worthless bug repellent, these jungle bugs thought it was candy. The weight of my pack seemed to be doubled in the heat and my socks squished in my shoes. My hired guide didn't seem to have too much trouble, but he was a native, very much used to the climate. We trekked on mile after mile in search of the great tribal mine of Zumadeawaue. It was a legend I that I studied for years. Some say it was a gold mine, others say diamonds. Most said it didn't exist. But I knew better. And it was something more than just gold or diamonds. It was something spiritual and sacred. I wasn't just some explorer looking for riches. I was searching for a higher power. I wanted to tap into the wisdom of the ancients. I wanted to feel the power of a greater being coursing through my veins. And I knew it was out there.

We had been searching for almost two weeks and I felt we were getting close. We kept finding bizarre artifacts that only seemed to steel my resolve. First there was a small stone sculpture maybe 3" tall of a nude man with small diamonds in his eyes and an arrow through his heart, and not 20 feet from that we saw a similar sculpture except twice its size and far more detailed. I kept these things in my pack and continued on figuring their meaning would be discovered when I reached the sacred place. 

A few days later we came across what seemed to be a war ground. Hundreds of men slaughtered where they stood. Arrows and spears littered the ground. The battle had taken place maybe a few years earlier and the smell of decay overwhelmed us. My traveling companion began to say a chant then he took some incense out of his pack and lit it and waved the smoke over the dead all the while chanting "Abo tee-awa, Abo tee-awa" I assumed it was a prayer for the dead. 

We continued on for another week but found nothing. I was beginning to lose hope. We hadn't come across anything of interest since the war ground and my aid was starting to think that maybe enough was enough and it was time to head back. Our food supplies were getting very low and I could not go on alone even with my rifle and pistol. I did not know this jungle very well and would never find my way back without him. I gave him more encouragement and promised more money to him when we returned. For the time being he agreed.

But a day later we saw something that shook both of to the very core and made my fears come true. We stumbled across a slaughtered man who had been dead well over a year. His body had been ritualistically dismantled and rearranged in a horribly sexual position. To be blunt his head had been removed and lodged up his rectum. This caused his skull to crack in several pieces. It was a horrible sight and it sent my aide screaming from me. I would have chased after him but my knees were shaking and I fell to the ground. What had I gotten myself into? This dark hole of the world contained things I could not have imagined. I lay there on my back and the world began to spin. Everything went dark and I don't know how long I was unconscious. 

When I awoke it was raining. I was soaked to the bone and very cold for the first time in weeks. I stood up and called to my aid but there was no answer. I saw again the horrible sight in front of me and I shuddered at the thought. I picked up my bag and began to walk in the direction I came. But within an hour I was terribly lost. I lost track of day and night and after what seemed like forever jungle fever began to set in and I was thrashing through the bushes wildly. 

All of a sudden I stumbled into a small river. I was terribly thirsty and drank like a mad man. Then floating through the air I heard voices. I thought I must be mad but I was certain I heard women's voices. I went up stream a bit and I saw three nude women bathing in the river. They were natives and chatting happily the way schools girls giggle over a cute boy. I thought I was seeing things but as I got closer they became all the more real. I stumbled over a rock and splashed to the water. They heard me and became frightened. I must have been quite a sight. I hadn't bathed in several days and I hadn't shaved or changed my clothes in over a week. Not to mention madly stumbling through a jungle can tend to give you a bit of a wild look. The women covered their naked bodies and ran to the trees. I called after them but with no luck. I stumbled again and hit my head on a rock. The world spun once more and the darkness took over.

I awoke inside a warm hut with a fire near me and I was naked under a leather blanket. I was bathed and fresh. There was a bowl of some sort of mush setting near me. I felt like I hadn't eaten in days and I greedily slurped it up. It had a bland corn taste, but I was in no position to be picky. I stood up and tried to leave the hut, but I found the door could not be opened. I tried to shake it open but with no luck. I began to search for another way out but there was none. The hut was well made out of heavy logs and vines and in my weakened state I could not break my way out. They had removed my pistol and knife so all I could do was sit back and wait for my captors to come to me. 

Night fell and I began to get impatient. I yelled out to my captors calling them cowards and demanding that they show themselves. I knew they would not understand me but figured they would get the point. Not long after a flap in one of the walls was pulled up, opening a window. There were branches like bars allowing light in but I could not climb out. On the other side was an old woman holding some sort of shaft. It was oddly shaped and reminded me of a cock and balls except uncircumcised. She was shaking it at me and chanting. She raised the shaft to the sky and then fell to her knees. Then she did something that completely blew my mind. This ancient looking woman took the shaft and began to shove it inside her wrinkled old vagina. I thought I was seeing things, but there she was rolling on the ground moaning and wailing in passion shoving this thing inside of her. All the while whispering some form of chant to herself. After about 10 minutes of this she seemed to reach her climax, thrashing and churning her hips. Then she stopped and lay very still. 

A few moments later two young women in their 20's arrived and carefully picked her up and carried her away. They came to the door, unlocked it and came inside. They began to speak to me in their tongue. I managed to pick up some of my lost guides language while we were together and this was similar, but not exactly the same. They were saying something about the sun and the night and death. That was all I could make out. I was so shocked by the whole scene that I had forgotten I was standing there completely naked. 

One of the women approached me and reached out her had and touched my face. She was soft and sweet and had these dark brown eyes. Her hand began to move slowly down my chest and continued down until it reached my cock. I had not been with a woman in a quite a long time and I could not control its rapid growth. I became very stiff in her hands and a large smile came over her. I just stood there like a moron with my dick in this girl's hand. I didn't know whether to push her away or bend her over. I did neither. She bent down and began to inspect my cock very closely. She held it against her cheek and massaged it gently as thought it was an infant puppy. Meanwhile her companion came across the room and went behind me. She knelt down and reached around to help her friend rub their new pet. She placed her cheek tight against my ass and the two of them began to stroke me off. The one from behind would rub my balls and lightly scratch them with her fingertips. And the one in front began this wild vibration with her hands. She then opened her mouth and began to lick the end of my cock with her tongue. It was all I could take and I exploded into her mouth. She closed her lips around my shaft and began to suck with all her might. It was as though she did not want to lose even one precious drop. I began to shake as the orgasmic convulsions consumed my body. The one behind me kept rubbing my sack and the one in front sucked madly. I continued to shoot my load into her young mouth until my legs could no longer support my own weight and I collapsed. The two of them began to massage my entire body and hold me close. I was very weak and drifted off to sleep.

I awoke some time later and I was surrounded by 30 or 40 women of all ages dressed in robes and their hair was tied up. The ancient women who masturbated in front of me was there and so were my two new friends who jerked me off. They were all wide-eyed looking at my naked body. I didn't know what was in store for me, but if recent events gave me any indication I knew this would make for an interesting adventure. 

I noticed that there were no men in the group, only the women. I wasn't sure where the men were, but I had a feeling they would make themselves known sooner or later. Maybe a few minutes passed as we all just stood there looking at each other. Then one of the women (the one who sucked me dry) stepped forward and began to speak to the crowd. She raised her hands high and began to tell what seemed to be a story. I couldn't make out what she was saying except that it had something to do with spirits or ghosts. I soon realized that she was telling them about what she had done to me. She described with her hands exactly what she and her friend had done. 

The other women seemed very pleased with this. They all cheered and raised their hands up in some sort of prayer to the heavens. This prayer seemed to go on for about 10 minutes. They would raise up their hands and then kneel down and then jump back up. I couldn't figure the whole thing out. After they were done with the chant they formed a circle around me and they reached out their hands and began to touch from head to toe. Dozens of hands probed every inch of my body. I was scared at first, but I soon became very aroused. The women all noticed my large erection and began to chant. 

One woman stepped out of the circle and came right next to me. She seemed to be the dominant one. She was bigger than the rest, maybe 6' tall and had broad shoulders and a strong stance. She reminded me of some Amazon warrior. Her breasts were large and sweaty. I could see the hardened nipple pushing its way out of the front of her robe. She had these beautiful dark brown eyes and long wild black hair. Her dark brown skin was tight and her muscles were well defined. She seemed to work herself into some sort of trance. Her eyes closed, her head rolled back and her breathing became labored and heavy. 

I remembered the tortured man in the jungle and began fear I would suffer the same fate. Her arms were stronger than mine and if any of these women had the physical strength to do such a thing, it was her. She approached me and I tried to back away, but the rest of the women held me in place. 

She came very close and began to smell me. I could smell her sweat. She had a sweet aroma of fruit mixed with sweat. She took her hand and grabbed my waist and slowly moved up my chest squeezing my pecks and pinching my nipples. I winced at the pain and she seemed to take pleasure in that. She smiled an open mouth smile and then licked my neck as though she was tasting me. She walked around me looking me over and then grabbed my ass hard, digging her nails into my skin. The sensation sent chills up my spine. 

She came around to the front and grabbed my cock. Fear had made it go soft, but her touch brought me to stiffness again. She was very pleased by this. She stepped back and removed her clothes in one fluid motion. I saw a perfect muscular body before me. She had long firm legs with very developed muscles. Her bush was not trimmed and was full and dark with black curly hairs. Her waist was trim with toned abs. Her breasts were large and the shape of defined muscle under the supple flesh. Her whole body was glistening with sweat and she was breathing heavily. I noticed a strong aroma of her womanly scent. 

She began to walk towards me and I knew what she intended to do. My cock became painfully stiff and she reached out and grabbed a hold of it. Then she let go and pushed me to the floor and stood over me. Several of the other women grabbed a hold of my arms and legs and held me firmly in place. I had a very good view of her pussy and I saw her juices dripping out from the thick dark hair. She slowly began to lower herself down on my dick. She did so with the moves of a dancer. Rolling her hips from side to side and as her pussy came close to my cock the other women began to chant. Very slowly she worked her way down until her pussy lips were just touching the head of my dick. At this point she froze and the rest of the women became very silent. 

Then after what seemed like an eternity she slid my cock in her very wet pussy. I felt it slide in so very snug and warm. I rolled my head back at the sensation. I tried to reach out and touch one of her large breasts but the other women held me tight. Once my dick was deep inside her she began to slowly move forward and back in a fluid rocking motion. My dick was tight inside her and a hot surge ran through my body. I could see the pleasure on her face as she methodically fucked me. The other women began a low chant to the rhythm of her movements. She slowly began to pick up the pace. Forward and back in nice even movements with my dick deep in her sopping wet cunt. I could smell her wild juices flow down my cock and under my balls. The faster she went the faster the other women chanted. I was quickly approaching my climax and I could feel my balls get ready to explode into her. She seemed to sense this and picked up the pace. Her head rolled back and her mouth opened wide. Faster and faster she wildly pounded on top of me. 

Her smell became stronger and I could tell her orgasm was at full climax. She began to moan and wail and violently thrash her pussy into my cock. I could hold it no longer and exploded deep into her cunt. My orgasm seemed to pulsate through my entire body as I convulsed in rhythm to my throbbing dick. My orgasm lasted an eternity and my head rolled back and my eyes closed as I unloaded streams of cum deep into her hole. She continued to pump my dick with her cunt for several minutes until it began to go soft. She then rolled over to her side completely exhausted. She lay there for a few moments and then she stood up and looked at the women around her with a wild savage look. I imagined it was what a warrior would look like after killing his enemies. She raised her hand up and yelled to the heavens. The rest of the women fell to their knees and began to pray and chant.

After several minutes of chanting the woman left and the rest followed her single file out the door leaving me alone. After a few moments the ancient women came back to the door and gave me a pitcher of fresh water. She smiled with her wrinkled old mouth and left me alone. After she was gone I tried the door and it was left unlocked. I had thoughts of leaving but where would I go? I would surely get lost in the jungle again and I have no clothes but this leather blanket. Besides I was in a camp full of horny tribal women who seemed to have the desire to keep me captive and fuck my brains out in some wild sexual ritual. I figured I might as well stick around and see what happens. I just hoped that I did not meet with the same fate as the poor bastard in the jungle. I liked my head just where it was. I went back into my hut and lay down next to the fire. It took me awhile to fall asleep as images of what happened kept flashing through my head. But after awhile I drifted off. 

The next morning came and I decided to explore the camp. I tied the leather blanket around my waist and walked out. I saw many women doing various chores in the camp. They were cooking and mending the tents. One was skinning an animal and another was tanning the skins. It seemed like one of those peaceful little camps you read about in National Geographic. One never would have thought they had such a dark wild sexual side to them. Again I still saw no men, only women. Not even male children, only girls. I figured they all went out on a hunt or something and I decided to find something to eat. 

I went over to the woman cooking and noticed it was my friend who jerked me off. At that moment I decided to call her Cookie. She smiled at me and filled a small bowl with more of the corn mush. I thanked her and slurped it down. It was better this time and it seemed she mixed it with some fruits and berries. I smiled and got up to explore a little further and saw that the camp was very small, maybe 6 or 7 huts in all. I had seen over 40 women the night before so it was obvious many women shared one hut. 

Once I had seen all the sights of the camp so I decided to go back and try and talk with Cookie. She had finished cooking and was cleaning up when she saw me. She smiled and motioned for me to sit down. I decided this was the perfect chance to break the language barrier. I tried to tell her my name. "Joe" I said and tapped my chest. She looked at me weird and tapped her chest and said "Joo" . I laughed and shook my head no and again tapped my chest and said "Joe' and then I tapped her chest and gave an inquisitive look. She understood and tapped my chest and said "Joo" and tapped her chest and said "Kawell" . Now we were getting somewhere. Her name was Kawell. I was pretty close with the Cookie thing. 

She smiled at our ability to communicate and gave me a koi little look. She leaned over and gave me a kiss on my neck. She then stood up and led me to one of the huts. She was a very sexy little thing, not nearly as big and strong as the woman last night. She was slim with tight little breasts and a firm ass. She led me into the tent and I saw there were several other women there all doing various things. One was sowing some cloth, the other was brushing a little girls hair. Two others were sleeping arm in arm. The one with the little girl sent her out of the hut and the four of them began to smile and giggle. I had a wonderful feeling I knew what was going to happen and I felt my dick grow under the blanket. 

Cookie (Kawell) reached out and undid my leather blanket exposing my rock hard dick. The women became very entranced by it. They drew closer and put their faces right up to it. They all fondled it and kissed it and licked it with their tongues. One reached from behind between my legs and began to fondle my balls, which sent chills of pleasure up my spine and caused my knees to quiver. My hard on was beginning to hurt I was so stiff. One of them eagerly grabbed my cock and began to savagely suck on it. The other began a quiet whispered version of the chant from the night before. 

I decided I could no longer stand and leaned back onto one of beds where the two women were sleeping. The woman stopped sucking me long enough to stand up and remove her clothes. The others quickly followed. They all then lay down very close to me and I was instantly surrounded by naked flesh. Their scent was intoxicating as they all began to fondle me. The Kawell got on top of me and grabbed hold of my stiff cock and lowered her pussy onto it. I felt the head push through her wet lips and slowly enter deep inside of her. She began to ride my cock very quickly and gracefully. Two of the other women began to lick my pecks and the fourth went back behind Kawell and put her head behind her ass. I soon felt her tongue frantically licking my balls as Kawell bounced up and down on my dick. The feeling sent shivers through my spine and I soon exploded deep into her sopping wet cunt. I thrust hard into her and filled her pussy with my semen. She rode me even harder and faster and was soon moaning in the ecstasy of what seemed to be a very long orgasm. 




A Prayer to the Sex God



She collapsed on top of me and my thick, softening dick flopped out of her pussy coved in a mixture of her juices and my cum. The girl that was licking my balls through out didn't miss a beat and began to suck my dick clean. It didn't take long for him to come back to full hardness. She then decided it was her turn to take a ride and quickly mounted me. She was a slightly heavier woman with large round breasts and big dark nipples. She started to bounce up and down on my cock and her breasts jiggled with delight. She squealed and I could feel her juices pour from her cunt. Her squeals turned into a low moan and she was obviously she was having a long awaited orgasm. It didn't take long before she collapsed and the next woman took her place. 

After the fourth woman took her turn Kawell decided she needed some more. She began by sucking the juices of her friends off my dick while fondling my balls in a very loving way. Then with me still lying on my back she turned around and put her back to me and put my dick back in her juicy wet pussy. She began to fuck me with rapid thrusts and from this angle I had an excellent view of my dick quickly entering her pussy. The three other women began the quiet chant again and they all began to fondle both Kawell and me. They stroked and licked her tits and fondled my balls. Within moments I was shooting gobs of cum deep into Kawell's pussy and as soon as she felt my cum hit her she too began thrusting to the rhythm of her orgasm. As soon as she was done she jumped off my dick and began to greedily lick the juices off my softening dick before any of the other women could get to it. All of the women lay down next to me again and we drifted off to sleep.

I awoke a few hours later and all of the women had left except for Kawell. She was snuggled up next to me, still naked and smelling of sex. She awoke as I did and quickly reached down and grabbed my cock and began stroking me hard once again. This time she had a sly look on her face and with her friends gone it seemed she wanted to try something new. 

She took my dick and put it in her wet little slit. Then she took it out and slid the tip in her tight little ass. She made a deep moan as my cock pushed deep in her hole. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she slowly began to pump my dick into her ass. Once I was all the way in she began thrusting faster and I noticed her hand was wildly rubbing her clit. Moments later she was gushing in orgasm and moaning and I think I heard her whimper. I too was on the threshold and began pumping loads of cum into her tight little ass. We fell into each other's arms and she gave me this dreamy look as her head rested on my chest. 

After a few moments she stood up and took me by my hand and led me out of the hut. I tried to put on my leather blanket but she would not let me. She pulled me out into the village bare assed with my cock blowing in the wind covered in my cum. She announced to the rest of the women something I could not make out but I recognized a few of the words from the chat them women made. Zoo-bah a-tee-am-bah. 

The women gathered around and the large Amazon women from the night before came forward. She grabbed me firmly by the neck and took me over to a tree. I became very afraid as the images of the headless man in the jungle returned. Was this it? Did they now wish to do away with me? The large woman (which I decided to call Attila) grabbed a rope that was hanging from the limb of the tree and tied it around my neck. Then two other women tied ropes around my arms and legs and pulled them tight. I was helpless and standing there naked as the day I was born and thinking I was going to meet my maker in the most hideous fashion possible. A couple of the women brought over wood and started a large bonfire. All of the women removed their clothes and sat around the fire. I noticed many of them had painted their faces. 

Attila walked up to me and gave me a hard stare. She yelled to the others and they all chanted the same chant. "Zoo-bah a-tee-am-bah, Zoo-bah a-tee-am-bah" She reached out and fondled my balls. But fear kept it soft. I still didn't know whether they planned to screw me again or shove my head up my ass. I soon happily learned it was the first choice. 

Attila turned her back to me and bent forward and showed me her pussy. She rubbed her ass up against my cock and it soon became quite hard. She then reached between her legs and guided my cock into her slit. She began pumping forward and back in quick decisive motions. She was soon gushing in orgasm. When she had stopped thrusting she stood back up and walked over to one of the women and led her by the hand to me. She was very young and innocent looking with sweet little breasts. She turned her around, bent her over and placed my dick in her pussy. She stood over her and moved her body for her back and fourth on my cock. Thrusting her body for her and pulling it away again. She had a very tight pussy and it was hard to get it in at first. The young woman began to weep and wail and blood began to come out of her pussy. A virgin! 

The young woman's wails soon turned to moans and she began to thrust in her own rhythm and Attila let go of her and she began to wildly fuck me. She soon turned around and climbed up me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders and thrust my dick inside her now sopping wet pussy. Then she wrapped her legs around my ass and was completely off the ground holding onto me a fucking me savagely and moaning in delight. She did not weigh much and with the aid of the ropes around my hands I was able to hold myself up. She madly clutched me as her pelvis pounded onto my cock. She buried her head in my neck as her body began to shudder and I knew she was experiencing her very first orgasm with a man. 

She soon let go and fell to the ground weeping and moaning. Attila picked her up and led her back to the group. Then the women with the painted faces all stood up and began dancing around me. The others continued to chant as they danced closer and closer. Their hands would reach out and touch my virgin's blood soaked cock. They all went to their knees before me and began to stroke the blood off my cock and gently wiping the blood into a small container. Then they started to stroke and suck my cock. One of them went down and began to give my ass hole small little flicks with her tongue and the others were doing their best to bring me to orgasm. It didn't take long and I was soon coming into this small container that they put in front of my dick. 

As soon as I was done they took the container back to the group and it was given to the old women. She held it up to the sky and said some quiet words to herself. She then walked over to a large statue and placed it on the ground before it. I then realized that the sculpture was a much larger version of the small artifacts I found in the jungle. It was a man with jewels in his eyes and an arrow through his heart. This one was at least 8 feet tall. At least now I know where the small sculptures came from and I began to wonder if they knew anything about the sacred Zumadeawaue. 

They untied me and led me back to my hut. Two women followed with a basin of warm water and bathed me from head to toe. They fed me more of the sweet corn meal and put me to bed. I didn't realize how tired I was until I laid back. After the women left the girl whose virginity I took came back in. She too had bathed, but she was still completely naked. She snuggled up next to me with her hand gently resting on my cock as we both drifted off to sleep.

The next morning the virgin was gone and more corn meal was in her place. After I ate I was determined to find out about sculpture and to see if there was a connection to the sacred place I was searching for. I went directly to Kawell's hut and went in. She was still asleep along with 6 other women, all cuddled up. It was obvious from the strong womanly scent in the room that they had been gratifying each other not long ago. I hated to wake all of them, but this was important. I tapped her on the shoulder and motioned for her to come outside. She carefully arose and walked out with me. I took her to the large sculpture and showed her the small carvings I had found. She began talking and I managed to make out the words war, death and men. I realized that the men I found in the battlefield were the men from this tribe. They must have lost the battle and been killed. Leaving these women alone to fend for themselves. 

I figured this explained why they all wanted to fuck my brains out. None of these women have had any dick in probably more than a year. I Pointed to the forest and described the act of removing my head and placing it up my rectum. She very quickly got my point and got a frightened look on her face. She said the word Ah-tee-mamba. I knew this to be a warrior tribe in the region. My hired guide had warned me about them before we left. Luckily we never ran into any. I figured this was whom the men fought and lost and they probably massacred this man as a symbol of the victory. 

I then said the word "Zumadeawaue". Her eyes went wide and she fell to her knees chanting something about spirits. I knew I was on to something. I didn't know how to ask her to show me this place. All I could do was give her an inquisitive look and point to the forest. She didn't seem to understand. But the simple fact that I knew about this place seemed to make her heart pound. She stood up and grabbed my hand and led me into the forest. 

We got about 500 feet in and came to a quiet grassy clearing. She very quickly disrobed and went to a large bell and struck it in a ritualistic fashion 5 times with a stone, creating loud gongs Then she lied down on the soft lush grass and spread her legs and began to masturbate in front of me. She lifted up her hips making sure I got a good view of the whole process. Her fingers began by massaging her clit and lightly penetrating her slit. This quickly escalated and soon her fingers were jamming in and out of her wet pussy while the other hand massaged her clit. Moments later several other women showed up and quickly disrobed and began to join her in the masturbation. They all laid down next to each other and began to cuddle and fondle each others breasts and pussies. Then many more women showed up from the forest including the old woman, Attila, and the virgin. They all joined the group of fondling women. 

Before I knew it there were over 50 women all naked and rolling around on the grass rubbing and sucking and licking and fondling. Some were licking each other pussies and others were using shafts similar to the one the old woman used my first morning in the camp. At any given time there were at least 5 of them writhing in orgasm and moaning at the top of their lungs. Kawell was in the middle of the whole thing and had three women sucking on her nipples and a fourth was eagerly licking her pussy and Kawell was shoving one of the shafts deep into her ass. 

I didn't know what to do when the old women climbed out of the group and took me by my hand and led me into the middle of the group. Immediately dozens of women began competing for my cock. One by one they took turns sucking and fucking me. I was never sure whose hands were touching me or whose pussy was fucking me. They would switch back and fourth between them. As soon as one pussy left my cock another quickly replaced it. It was a sea of flesh and I had several pussies in my face all begging to be sucked. Others grabbed my hands and started using them to shove into their pussies. One even tried to fuck my foot. 

It was a lustful scene full of wailing and moaning and the scent of sex filled the air. I had a very log and powerful orgasm and there must have been 10 women climbing over each other to suck it up. I rolled over and saw Kawell. She was in the middle of an orgasm and after a few moments she opened her eyes and looked at me and mouthed the word "Zumadeawaue"