11 comments/ 13711 views/ 1 favorites AO By: PTBzzzz This is a narrative from a man's point of view about the exposure to Agent Orange and the resulting effects it has on his life over time. It is told only from his point of view, there is no overt sex and I deliberately did not use any dialog between the persons involved. My only thought is to show the conflicts I imagine might be in his mind and express it in a way he might be thinking. I will try to not preach on the subject. It must be understood that this chemical will have an adverse effect on the lives of other family members, as well as the vets. Many of our countries finest are still suffering from their service and are still making the ultimate sacrifice to this day, after over 40 years. This is not my story; although I was exposed to Agent Orange when in the service of our country. Please understand I love my country and mean no disrespect to her or the brave veterans who have performed their duty; especially those who have returned maimed or made the ultimate sacrifice. When commenting on this story please keep this in mind and be gentle. * "Bottle of wine, fruit of the vine. When you gonna let me get sober?" Great tune by Jimmy Gilmer and the Fireballs, but I can't get the damn thing out of my head. Now is not the time to have a tune stuck in my head. We were slowly moving down the trail, about 60 of us total. I was in the middle again. I hate being in the middle. I also hate to be the first or the last. Off in the distance I hear the sound of a plane. Not one of the big things or a jet. It was one of those little things they use to spray the trees and kill them. It might just be cheaper and easier to bring in a fleet of 'dozers and plow them down. Lucky for us we got back home without being attacked today. It's 1969 and I am stuck here in this jungle; it's hot and sticky, assholes in black pajamas are sneaking up and shooting at you all the time and they keep spraying the trees with that damn sweet smelling shit. Which one are they using today? The shit is named for the color of the label on the fucking drums. You have agent white, blue, green, orange; hell, ya probably got agent rainbow too. The generic term is defoliant. In the simplest terms; it kills the leaves on the trees and makes it so that no one can hide in them and shoot at us. They say it will save lives; I guess we will need to let them do the spraying. If one of my buddies makes it home because they sprayed it will be worth it. Back in camp we get some warm chow, a shower and time to relax. Until one of those assholes on the other side decides to throw a few mortar shells at us tonight. Only a month until we get to go home. Tomorrow we can stay in camp, the platoon next door get to party in the jungle. The last 2 times they went out they got attacked; poor buggers get all the bad luck. They only have half of the original members from the states; 12 were killed, the rest were wounded bad enough they got sent home. You hate to make any more buddies than you need to; you never know when they might leave in a bag or on a stretcher. Most times when you see someone you don't know, you just nod and keep going. When we returned to the states we were told 86% of the original members of our company made it without injury. We feel fortunate; many got hit a whole lot worse. It is1996, news reports are talking about Agent Orange, Vietnam, sick and dying former military. What the fuck is this shit? Oh, Hell! I bet it was that sweet stuff they dumped all over us. They are saying you do not need to be directly sprayed; walking through the area, even much later, is enough to expose you. I hear it is now believed to cause all kinds of problems; Heart, lungs, bones, cancer, diabetes, and more, and more, and more. At least I have not had any problems from it. I am healthy as a horse, I work as a carpenter. You need to be in good shape to work in the weather we do, to handle the weights we do, to work the hours we do. Thank God I am in good shape. Last week I slipped in the mud while wrestling with a heavy beam. I had a slight back ache and a couple of cracked ribs from the rock I landed on. But the meds the doctor gave me took care of it, now I can get back to work. I can live through the ribs hurting a little; time off is for sissies. A few weeks later I am left to wonder why the Hell does my leg feel like it is on fire on one side and numb on the other. The boss wants me to go back and see the doctor again. Time off from work again? I have bills to pay, I don't need this shit. Come on Doc, give me something for the pain; I can work through it. I am not the sickly one in the family; my wife has had most of the problems. She had her gall bladder and appendix out the 3rd month we were married. She works in an office, spends most of her day parked on her butt. She answers the phone, types, makes coffee, and files things away. She had 4 children for me; she held on to a little of the weight gain from each pregnancy. She has bad knees and a bad back from the extra weight. When you get over 50 it is more difficult to loose the weight. Me, I have a small paunch. I like my beer. OK? But, I am solid muscle behind my belly; I can lift almost 400 pounds on a regular basis. Now I am home from work; Workman's Comp is for sissies. Give me the meds Doc and I will be able to work through the problems. WHAT THE FUCK! A herniated disk? Give me some therapy and the right meds, I'll show you I can still work. Come on boss, the doctor is just being a jerk; I can still do the job! I've been your best guy for over 30 years; you know I can do it. I need surgery? My back feels fine; the problem with the leg just gets worse and worse. Why is the pain in my leg, when the problem is in my back? Therapy makes it feel good for a day or so; then the pains come right back. I hate needles; they already took 6 gallons of blood out of my arm. How much more do you need to run your tests? That's only the beginning of the tests! Now I get x-rays and need to run on a treadmill for 3 hours with wires hanging off my chest. Don't this just look fuckin' stupid? Finally the testing is over the heart doctor is going to give me the OK for my surgery this afternoon and we will do it next week and then I can get back to work. It is about time! DIABETES? How in the Hell can I have diabetes! Dad has 6 siblings, Mom has 4; I have 3 brothers and 5 sisters and 42 cousins; none of them have diabetes. Diabetes is not in my family; it runs rampant in my wife's family. I know can't get it from them. What the hell do you mean I have diabetes? The surgery is finally over, thank God! About 5 months of recovery and I can get back to work. Lordy, I feel great! Get this morphine away from me; that shit is for sissies. Compared to how I felt before surgery I am doing wonderful. OK Doc, I will fill out that box of forms. I know it is not really that much; but it might as well be. Am I allowed to carry that much weight yet? Just kidding Doc. I get up every morning, eat a bowl of cereal, and then take 5 pills to control my blood sugar. Before bed I get 3 more. My back no longer hurts; hey Sweetie lets fuck tonight. I'm so horny I could rape a pile of rocks if I thought there might be a snake under it. All right, it's hard! Let's go Baby. AW, COME ON! Don't go soft, I didn't finish yet. That's it Baby you're the best. We're back in the saddle again. I know you didn't get off, I just barely did myself. I don't like the way it tastes; can't we do something else. I know you had mine in your mouth! OK, if that is what it takes to get you off I guess I need to do it. I only did it because I love you. Thank God for those blue pills; we can do it now. OH, Baby that was great again; wasn't it? Doc, I am strong as an ox, why can't I go back to work? Yeah, I heard about Agent Orange; what does it have to do with me? Diabetes, I know I have that. Degenerative disks in my back; what are you talking about? Beginning heart disease? How do you figure that Doc? What do you mean no more blue pills? Why is my heart not healthy enough for them? I need them to keep the wife happy. We don't do it enough to keep her happy now. I am now on disability for the last 6 months. Thank God; the kids are all out of college, the house is almost paid off and we have a couple of reliable cars. The doctor does not like it; but if I skip the pills for a day or so and sneak a blue pill I can get it up for long enough to make her happy. Immediately after sex I take the pills I should have done before. At least I will die with a smile on my face. The VA is dragging their feet on approval for compensation for exposure to Agent Orange. I've filled out a mountain of paperwork and waited over 12 months and no word yet from them. When approved I will, at least, get the money I should have gotten all along in the first payment. We are planning to spend 3 weeks at the beach when the money comes in. That's if there is enough money left to do it. Today the wife mentioned that she might have to get a boyfriend if I can't keep her happy. I ripped her a new asshole over that remark. She started to blubber about only kidding and ran from the room. I hollered at her about not needing to hear shit like that; I feel bad enough about it. As she went up the stairs I was telling her about all the times I needed to be considerate of her health problems when I really wanted sex. I finished up with yelling that this was my turn to have a health problem and she would need to deal with it. I might get an implant in my pecker and see if it will help. The house was like a cold storage unit for the next 2 days; I did not have much to say to her because I was so mad about how insensitive her remark was. I have no idea what she is thinking. I slept in the den both days. I came in from another medical appointment and the house was cleaned from top to bottom, my favorite meal was cooking in the kitchen and she was dressed in her finest clothes. I just walked into the den and sat down to read the paper. She brought me a drink and asked if there was anything else I needed. "NO." Finally she called me in for dinner. When it was done she apologized for the unkind remark. I could see her eyes were swollen and red. She had talked to a counselor at a Vet Center and had told her about how our life had gone to hell. She knew as soon as the words left her lips that they were wrong. She missed the closeness we had and wanted it back. She only wants me and she will take what I can offer. I told her I accepted her apology but if she ever followed through with any sort of idea even similar we would be finished. No, she had no intention of ever doing such a thing. She continued to talk to the counselor at Vet Center a few more times. She now goes down every so often to give the guys there, a wife's perspective of the damages done when exposed to the residuals of war and the chemicals they used in it. I accompany her and wait outside as she talks with them. Most guys have no idea how much their moods and actions are affecting their wives and children. It took some time to rearrange our lives so we were comfortable with each other again. We both understand the damage a few poorly chosen words can do to a couple. The ravages of being exposed to a chemical that should never have been used in a populated area continue to make my life more and more difficult as time goes on. We are committed to being together to the end. We are willing to take as little or as much as the other can offer. * There are many papers written on how toxic the chemicals were. They caused rubber hoses to become brittle and leak, so imagine what it does to bodies. There are many HOT SPOTS where the chemicals are there in concentrations strong enough to still be toxic. Do not forget the persons who still live where we have sprayed this stuff. As a former sailor one of the documents I found interesting is called DANANGCOMBO2 If you have the time and inclination to read all 47 or so pages you will get an idea just how horrid this stuff really was. AOB - How To Conclude A Meeting Part 1 It wasn't that the firm was sexist or a bunch of misogynist dinosaurs (of a porcine persuasion): she just rubbed them up the wrong way. Lynda was tall, blond and frighteningly efficient. Perhaps the men felt threatened: perhaps she just rubbed them up the wrong way. She always dressed well, neatly pressed clothes and tidy hair, though invariably in trousers. Perhaps it was this that annoyed the men in their rather crumpled suits, the result of hurried dressing after a shower and snatched breakfast. Perhaps she just rubbed them up the wrong way. Colin Meadows, the MD, an exasperated expression on his face turned from watching Lynda's trouser clothed bottom leaving the room, "I don't know how I kept my cool with that young woman, Tom, she just infuriates." Tom too had been watching Lynda's rump and been speculating on how it might look unconcealed by the dark grey woollen trousers and panties of an unknown pattern. He wasn't much interested in the panties, rather the unattainable smooth creamy flesh that lay beneath. "Infinitely desirable and just as infuriating. I don't know what it is but it does bring out the worst in us." The other men around the table were engaged in similar conversations comparing Lynda's undoubted desirability with her annoying ways. It was always like that, covert glances and barely suppressed irritation. Lynda was not unaware of the glances but was blissfully unaware of the annoyance she caused. She was concerned about the efficient operation and development of the business and she revelled in her work. She did not see she was a disruptive influence but saw herself as very clearly - there was no contest - the rising star of the firm. Colin had contemplated taking some action for weeks but this meeting was the last straw. He couldn't simply fire her - there was no justifiable reason - he could hardly say she didn't fit in and she upset the men - he would be straight into a discrimination claim and rightly so, no doubt. He had mentioned the problem to his old friend Adrian Brightly and had been quite shocked, but nonetheless intrigued and tempted by the unorthodox solution. The team had been warned by Colin that he had taken steps to deal with Lynda and that she would do something unusual at the next meeting. Colin had stressed that whatever it might be they were not to react as if anything unusual had happened but to continue the meeting normally. Lynda had come into the room in her usual brusque way, grabbed a plastic cup of water and sat down. It was quite hot in the room and many of the men had taken their jackets off and Lynda had done the same. About fifteen minutes into the meeting Lynda had been in full flow on why Alex's idea would not work as suggested. Alex was not enjoying the merciless dissection of what, in many ways was an excellent plan, but not thought through as carefully as it could have been, when she took a sip of her water and managed to spill the rest all the way down her white blouse. It was quite a lot of water and it soaked the left hand side making the material semi transparent revealing Lynda's white lacy bra and even showing the outline of her pink areola. Conversation immediately stopped. Was this the surprise Colin had promised? Colin said, "Are you all right Lynda? - do you want to nip out and change?" Lynda's reply was the surprise. "No Colin, I don't want to interrupt the meeting. I'll just hang it on the radiator and it'll be dry by the end of the meeting. No problem." She stood up and as she resumed her analysis of Alex's idea began to unbutton the blouse. Her carefully manicured nails undid the top button before slipping down to release the next pearly button from its eyelet. The two sides of the blouse slipped open revealing the bra cups and the mounds of her breasts. Her fingers dropped to the next button as she talked on. Nobody was listening. The final button undone the blouse fell fully open revealing more of the bra and confirming one cup had indeed got rather wet and like the blouse had become somewhat transparent. The shape of Lynda's areola was clearly visible as was the slightly raised nipple. The men ogled. Lynda took it as rapt attention to her analysis. She undid the cuffs and slipped the whole blouse off and walked in her white bra and dark grey trousers up the length of the conference room and carefully draped the wet blouse over the radiator under the window. She was still talking as she turned back to the meeting and had their full attention as she reached behind her and undid the bra strap. The men could not actually see Lynda clearly as it was a very sunny day and the low sun was showing her in silhouette but they could clearly see in silhouette that she was taking her bra off and they could actually see the bounce of her freed breasts as she bent to drape the wet bra alongside the blouse on the radiator. As she walked back from the window to her seat, just clothed in her trousers, she came out of the sun and there for all the men to see was Lynda completely topless, her pretty round breasts crowned by soft pink nipples completely exposed to their inspection. It was a moment none of the men were ever likely to forget. They watched, completely spell bound and lost for words as, still in full flow, she resumed her seat. Her destructive analysis reached its climax and she made a rapid up and down movement with one hand for emphasis looking challengingly at Alex for a reply. The rapid movement however made her breasts bounce in a most erotic manner which in reality totally lost the emphasis of the hand movement, caused Alex's cock to harden and left him completely at a loss as to how to reply. "An impressive analysis in my opinion," said Colin, "though I suspect rather too damning. I think there is considerable merit in the plan nonetheless but it needs further thought. What do you think Alex?" His reply was not one of his better composed comments seeming to lack both coherence and substance and almost suggesting he had not been really listening to what Lynda had been saying. She found it difficult to conceal a smirk. The meeting progressed. Everyone was unusually anxious to hear Lynda speak and were abnormally quick to give way if she opened her mouth to speak. Indeed the meeting progressed in a much easier fashion than usual. There was no concerted effort to silence Lynda, no undercurrent of irritation and annoyance. Everyone was keen to hear Lynda and they all looked at her most attentively whenever she did speak. Perhaps it was her chest they watched rather than her lips but nonetheless they were attentive. Colin was pleased by the exercise and congratulated Adrian Brightly that evening on the success. But the plan had further to run. A fortnight later Lynda entered the conference room for the meeting in her usual brisk way and was immediately conscious of conversation dying away as if cut by a knife and all eyes fixed on her. Quite out of character, she panicked - had she forgotten to do up something? Was something she was wearing wrong? She glanced downwards - no everything was as it should be. She looked at her bag - no it was the usual attaché case. She turned to see if someone had come in behind her. There was no one there. "Is anything..." she began. "Ah Lynda, that makes us quorate. Coffee?" Unusually for Tom he actually got her a cup of coffee. Lynda stood for a moment a bit surprised and still puzzled by the sudden ending of conversation but everyone was nodding and smiling at her in a friendly way so she sat down and got into the business of the meeting. Lynda had correctly surmised the cause of the sudden cessation of conversation. The men had been warned by Colin that something would again be different but this had not prepared them for the reality. He had warned them that Lynda would be completely unaware of the difference and she was to be treated as if everything was normal. The change was for their benefit and not to hurt her. Lynda was dressed as usual in a grey trouser suit: or at least she thought she was. The short grey woollen jacket, cut severely, was worn over a white shirt, a Hermes scarf showed at her throat. It was very neat. Her hair, long and blond was tightly drawn back. All was well on top: it was just the trousers and panties that were missing. Looking up, as Lynda had come in the door, the men had for the first time seen her long legs rising completely uncovered from her high heels. And certainly they were long, rising up and up past her knees and creamy white thighs to join together in a vee of fair curls exposed beneath her short jacket. The exposure was so unexpected that the men had simply stopped talking. Unexpected but welcome. The tone of the meeting proved to be much lighter, much easier than it had been the past year or more. Ideas and business flowed. Even Lynda felt it, little realising the cause or the pleasant feeling of anticipation felt by her fellows at the prospect of the different view that would be enjoyed on her departure. Colin was not alone in relishing the sight, only previously dreamt about, of seeing Lynda's naked bottom leaving the room, only partially obscured by the hang of the jacket. The drop of each perfectly formed cheek as she walked, the cleft of her bottom disappearing beneath her legs and the faint glimpse of a mist of fair curls beneath and between her legs as she walked. Colin was also not alone in feeling his hard cock straining against the material of his trousers - indeed the pressure was shared by all eight present. Lynda, though, was happily oblivious of the eight erections she had caused. She was completely unaware that she had carefully removed her shoes, trousers and panties and folded them on her office chair before putting on her shoes again and walking to the meeting. She had no knowledge of reversing the performance when she returned. Her strange actions were completely subconscious. They were the result of Adrian Brightly's unorthodox method. Adrian Brightly had remarkable hypnotic abilities that he was happy to put at Colin's service for an appropriate fee, of course. Lynda had been pleased by Colin's interest in her personal development and his recommendation of an Advance Influencing Skills course. She had readily gone along with the pre-course one-to-one briefing to establish needs and had really taken to the course director, Mr. Adrian Brightly. He had really seemed to understand her. What she hadn't appreciated was that it was not to be her influencing skills and needs which were being considered rather how she might be influenced to satisfy the needs of her co-workers. She had not noticed the smooth rhythm of Adrian Brightly's voice as it lead her first into a light trance and then on into a very suggestible state. He had not taken advantage of her, tempting though it had been, but had prepared Lynda for her subtle display. Colin's team were certainly mollified by Lynda's display. Curiosity had been satisfied and they were more prepared to tolerate her efficiency and attitude now they had seen her in a different light. But of course there was a demand for more. Curiosity had only been satisfied to an extent, Lynda remained irritating and lust had been aroused. With its accustomed regularity the fortnightly meeting came around and, as tended to happen, the men arrived in the Board Room before Lynda. They were more than a little surprised at finding a new piece of furniture. It did match the existing furniture in being made of Ash wood but otherwise it was very different. It was more of a stool than a chair requiring the occupant to sit rather high up with feet resting on the bars joining the legs. It would have been, apart that is from a singular feature, very at home positioned next to a bar. Indeed a bar stool was perhaps its most accurate description. But of course bar stools do not have, at least in the experience of the men present, a carved phallus rising from its seat. The highly polished phallus was not small, as Alex commented, though it was neither longer nor thicker than reality was likely to produce. Indeed Merv went so far as to say it reminded him of the mirror in his bathroom. This was received with a good deal of humorous scepticism. Not only was the phallus beautifully carved and highly polished it was obvious it had also been oiled. Lynda's appearance was just as previously. She even had the same jacket on, but not of course the trousers. Being less of a surprise the men were quicker to look and able to take in greater detail. The profusion of blond curly hairs, the way they seemed to curl the more the closer they were to Lynda's slit. Indeed, that intriguing little valley that starts to run from the mound of the mons veneris and disappears as it runs deeper, and sometimes wetter, between the legs, was a focus of interest. Lynda herself seemed less aware of the stares than might have been expected and smiled at Colin a little unsure as she couldn't see a chair at the table. "Sorry Lynda, one of the chairs broke, could you perch on that stool there?" Lynda saw the stool but not its unusual feature, Adrian Brightly had seen to that. The men were completely fascinated as Lynda, without a second's thought, placed first one shoe then the other on the stool's rails so her sex was raised up above the carefully carved acorn shape of the phallus' helmet head. Naturally this meant her thighs were a little open and as the men strained forward they could see the pink folds of her lips framed by the soft fair curls. It was obvious she was, incredible as it seemed, lining herself up with the phallus. Completely spellbound they watched as she lowered herself to touch the smooth oiled wood with her sex and then began to push the helmet head into herself. With care, judicious adjustments and the occasional wiggle Lynda began to settle herself and the men watched the phallus gradually disappearing into her. Lynda herself appeared completely unconcerned as if the action of pushing a wooden dildo into yourself watched by your colleagues was a perfectly normal event. But to Lynda it did not appear strange at all, indeed she was unaware at a conscious level of what she was doing or the near catastrophic effect it was having on clean laundry around the table. As Lynda settled herself completely onto the stood and the wooden penis was hidden from view, Colin began the business of the meeting. The men found it disconcerting the way Lynda participated as if nothing was amiss, the way she was jotting down notes in her notebook and being her usual self. It became even more disconcerting to those best placed to see when she began to ride up and down on the penis, the little pink folds that lead to an increasingly prominent clitoris seeming to caress the shaft as it appeared to lengthen and shorten as Lynda pulled herself up and then down again. At first Lynda had actually sat still but, whilst fully participating in the meeting, she was puzzled by the feeling in her vagina. It was if it was full, as if a large penis had entered it, opening and stretching it. It was, of course, not an unpleasant feeling but not the sort of feeling she expected to experience in a meeting. Worse still she could feel herself getting wetter and sexually excited - hardly what she normally experienced in meetings with her colleagues. She was barely conscious that she had now started to ride the penis but was very aware of the stimulating effect it was having. So were the men. Her flushed face; faster breathing; to say nothing of her swollen pudenda revealed all. It was difficult not to stare; or to concentrate on the meeting; let alone resist the temptation to unzip a fly. Lynda's concentration was wavering and a feeling of panic growing. What if the men noticed she was sexually excited? Surely she was not going to orgasm here in a meeting with eight men? The orgasm was not however to be denied and, when it came, was long and powerful. All saw Lynda clench her eyes tightly shut as she shuddered, pumping harder and faster on the wooden phallus, before her face relaxed into peaceful contentment. Colin motioned to them all to look away and resume the meeting so that when Lynda surfaced she was relieved to see that no one was looking at her and her puzzling and completely unexpected orgasm had passed unnoticed. The careful way Lynda lifted herself off the stool at the end of the meeting was certainly closely observed by all present, indeed Tom got up specially to take a rear view of her extraction. It was lucky Lynda was not being as observant as she usually was otherwise the considerable bulges in the men's trousers might have surprised and even upset her. Part 2 Colin was delighted with the morning's work. Real bonding and team building he called it. There was a more relaxed attitude, a greater acceptance of Lynda's opinions and her insistence on her own plans. They already knew she was good but seeing her in a different light gave them a feeling of superiority. Had they not now seen her almost unclothed, had they not seen her mount the special stool and orgasm right in front of their eyes? Had not many of them touched the very wet dildo sticking up from the bar stool after Lynda had vacated it? The team was, even so, anxious for more. Colin was happy to oblige. He spoke again to Adrian Brightly who, in turn, had another interview with Lynda. The team, ready at the conference table for the fortnightly team meeting, were disappointed to see Lynda enter the conference room fully clothed. They had been, and discussion amongst several had been warm on the subject, hopeful of seeing her in just her high heels. A few looked reproachfully at Colin who pointedly ignored them and got on with the meeting. After an hour or so, as was customary, Colin suggested a coffee break. He took personal charge of handing out the coffee. Naturally and politely he asked Lynda first, "Coffee Lynda?" "No thanks, Colin." "Water, juice?" "Not really. I fancy something a little salty." There was silence in the room, an instant expectant silence. This was not an usual reply from Lynda. Something was amiss, something was afoot, something likely to be very interesting. The men were a little slow in grasping the import of Lynda's phrase but realisation dawned. "Salty? I don't think we have anything. Let me see, the only thing I can think we have here would be, well it would be semen. Would that do? "Oh yes please!" "In a glass or fresh from the source?" "Source please, I like my spunk hot." "Alex, could you oblige?" "Huh?" Alex was somewhat nonplussed. Surely Colin did not mean for him to get his penis out in front of everybody? "Could you serve Lynda please," said Colin a little more sternly. Alex had become hard, as had his colleagues, as soon as he detected something was about to happen but the prospect of having to pull his cock out of his trousers in front of the other men had an unnerving and softening effect. "Colin, I..." "Alex - get your cock out now and serve the lady." The others were looking at him, smiling a little at his discomfort but anxious to see Lynda's lips closing around a penis. Their own cocks strained against material. There was little else for Alex to do but unbutton his fly. He prided himself on the quality of his tailoring. Not for him the modern zip but a series of fly buttons. This lengthened the process. Lynda stood waiting. The buttons undone, Alex fished inside and pulled out his semi-hard cock. It half hung out of his trousers. Alex felt very embarrassed standing there with his penis poking out of his trousers, however well tailored they were. He looked at his colleagues - but they were looking at Lynda. What would her reaction be? Lynda hitched up her trousers from the knee and knelt in front of Alex. Colin spoke again, "Alex really, manners. Open it for Lynda." AOB - How To Conclude A Meeting "Huh?" "Pull your foreskin back." Alex lifted his cock with his right hand, it was even limper now and pulled back the sheath of skin exposing the pale pink acorn head. Lynda smiled, nodded, reached out and held Alex's penis between her right forefinger and thumb just below the head, lent forward opening her lips and took the head between her lips. Alex felt the warmth of her mouth, an immediately licking tongue and a slight sucking. Looking down he could see Lynda's head where he had never dreamt she would be and could see her lips wrapped around his cock. The flow of blood reversed and pumped back into his cock swelling it in Lynda's mouth. She began to encourage it with her fingers tugging the retracted foreskin a little back and forth. She was anxious for her drink - hot, salty and satisfying. "Coffee, Alex?" Alex looked up surprised. Colin was offering him a cup of coffee. He took it. "Mind you don't spill any on Lynda's hair." Colin said in a matter of fact way. "That would scald." The others were standing around drinking coffee and watching Lynda at work. Colin began a conversation about last night's episode of 'Friends' on the television. The discussion began slowly but it had been a funny episode and, despite the fascination of Lynda's lips around Alex's penis, views flowed. Alex, however, was silent. He was the least interested in the comedy show - his concentration was elsewhere - though he did sip his coffee. "Did you see it Lynda?" asked Tom. "Oh yes, never miss an episode if I can help it. I've several on DVD." She spoke with Alex's erect cock held carefully in her hand between her right thumb and forefinger, rather like you might hold a cigarette or rather large cigar. The head was shining wetly from Lynda's mouth and as they watched a drip of semen, pre-cum as it is called, fell to the carpet. The incongruity of the situation added to the enjoyment of the male members of the team. Hardly had Lynda's lips closed again around Alex's cock than his cup rattled in its saucer. Lynda was getting her drink. The others watched Alex, Lynda kneeling in front of him, his eyes closed, shaking a bit but trying to hold his cup and saucer straight. After a moment or two his eyes opened and he smiled at the others a bit sheepishly but nodded his head - it had been good! Lynda sucked to extract the last of Alex's spend and began to get up letting the now wilting cock fall from her mouth. Colin caught her eye, "Another?" "Please, you don't get much from one." "Could someone get Lynda another drink?" Despite Alex's initial reticence several of the other men stepped forward to help. They were gentlemen after all - keen to oblige a lady. Tom was quicker than the rest and had his penis out hard and in his hand before the rest had summoned courage. "Here you are Lynda." "Thanks Tom, kind of you." No sooner had she said this than she was on her knees again with Tom's cock in her mouth and her hand around and stroking it, teasing it into producing a further mouthful. Lynda's tongue caressed the cockhead, particularly licking the extra sensitive underside. To Tom it was a dream come true. Lynda was clearly no novice to the practice: indeed she seemed well practised which was not what Tom had expected. He had imagined her very much as a girl of all work and no play. Clearly this was not the case. The insistent tugging on his foreskin, the swirling of the warm, slightly rasping tongue on the smooth glans together with the erotic image of Lynda's pretty lips around his cock were having the inevitable effect. Had Tom not already been excited by Lynda's work on Alex it would have taken longer but much too early for him he felt his scrotum tightening as he built to ejaculation. He tried to hold back the spurt but it was not possible. He was coming - pulsing hot jets of semen into Lynda's mouth. As always when he came he closed his eyes but he opened them as the pulsing slowed so that he could fix the image in his mind of Lynda's lips holding his cock as he was actually coming. Later he wished he'd used the camera on his mobile phone but when he mentioned it to Colin his MD had said it was just as well he hadn't as Lynda would have found that very odd. After all you don't usually take a picture of a colleague drinking - taking a sip of coffee for example. Tom's penis softened and he could feel Lynda squeezing it between her lips as she pulled away from him, trying to extract the last drop that might still be in his urethra. Lynda smiled up at him as she got to her feet, "Mmm thanks, very salty." "Another drop," asked James hopefully. "Oh yes please," replied Lynda getting down on her knees again in front of James and, before he had a chance to extract his penis, Lynda was pulling down his fly and reaching in to pull out his cock. Naturally it too was hard and being circumcised Lynda did not need to 'open' it. Being circumcised there was no foreskin to move to assist the service of her drink so Lynda slipped her hand into James' fly and massaged his scrotum, feeling the plum shaped balls within the wrinkled skin. Once more she did not have to wait long for her drink and she soon found her mouth filling with gushes of hot viscous cum. It slipped easily down her throat, so much more satisfying than a harsh cup of coffee. It was a rather longer coffee break than usual. Lynda seemed thirsty and went through all eight men, even Colin who had said to her, "have you had enough Lynda, I'm afraid I've only one left but you can have that." "Well I could drink another, that is unless anyone else would like..." Unsurprisingly nobody else did. Which was somewhat of a relief to Colin. All the men were now finding it easier to work with Lynda. Yes she could still irritate but on the whole they did not mind. She might come up with an idea quicker than them, might put something better, might get impatient with them but in their mind's eye they would see her without her trousers and with her fluffy curls exposed and a wooden phallus pumping in and out of her little pink nether lips, or see a different vision of her other lips encircling their own penis as they ejaculated. It gave the men a sense of proportion and definite superiority. But of course they desired more. They wanted to push their hard penises between her legs, feel the heat of her hidden moistness and make it wetter. They all wanted to fuck Lynda very much indeed. "So," said Adrian Brightly, "you and your colleagues now want Lynda to submit to intercourse? Now that is difficult. What business reason can there be for her to want to let you all insert your penises in her vagina and inseminate her? Spilling water down herself and being anxious not to interrupt the meeting for trivia was almost naturally her; forgetting her trousers was fairly simple to arrange, having trouble sitting down despite the, ah, impediment you could say was also simple; changing her drinking preferences was tricky: but intercourse? And I suppose your colleagues will be anxious to touch, or should I say grope, her breasts at the same time?" "They did say something about that," replied Colin dryly, "well, can you do it? No doubt if anyone can, you can." Adrian Brightly was amenable to flattery and, in any case, liked to rise to a challenge. "Lynda has an idea to improve our meetings - to make them more productive and efficient time wise." Colin was introducing an item for the agenda tabled by Lynda. The men listened and made notes but it had been a most disappointing meeting - they had sat and discussed the items on the agenda and drunk coffee and eaten biscuits just like an ordinary meeting. They had got used to very much better meetings with pleasant and exciting surprises. Now, worse still, they were going to have Lynda lecturing them on one of her pet ideas. An idea, no doubt, she had picked up on her part time MBA course. They listened with sinking hearts. The idea she presented, with enthusiasm, was meetings take too long because people were comfortable sitting. If meetings were held standing then there would be an encouragement to make them short. It would act as a stimulus to creative ideas and action. They should all stand in a circle rather than be around a table. Lynda's explanation was rather more lengthy, but that was the essence. "So," said Colin, "you want everyone standing next meeting?" "Yes, I'd like to try it. I'm sure it will result in better ideas, more stimulation and action." "Can I rely on you to keep us standing and if we seem to be tiring and drooping a bit you will keep the stimulation going?" Several of the men came out of their despondency and looked at each other with surprised, amused or intrigued faces. Was there more to this than met the eye? "You can count on me - I'm the ideas girl." "I'm sure we can. I'm sure we can." Part 3 The day of the next meeting came around. Colin casually mentioned, in a matter of fact way, to his colleagues before the meeting that Lynda has asked if clothing could not be worn as it would make it much easier to run the meeting. This caused some raised eyebrows and questions that were unanswered. So it was that eight naked men came to be standing self consciously in the board room feeling the carpet under their naked feet and trying not to look at each other's equipment. Apart from Colin, who was completely at ease, they were rather worried quite what Lynda's reaction might be when she walked in. Lynda bustled in fully clothed in her familiar trouser suit, air of urgency and bustle and with her usual quick smile grabbed her coffee and joined the circle. Colin began, "Well here we all are again for our fortnightly meeting but under Lynda's auspices we are trying a new approach and..." "But no one is standing," interrupted Lynda looking meaningfully at the eight soft penises pointing downwards, "I thought you'd have understood the idea. Everyone has to be standing. I thought you'd have got them hard so we could start straightway. Come on everyone get wanking otherwise this meeting is going to take longer than usual. You are completely missing the idea." She sounded quite exasperated. It was a very strange experience for the men. Not only were they naked in the presence of a clothed woman but she was telling them to masturbate. They looked at each other uncertain what to do. "Come on," said Colin lifting his penis up and beginning to pull his foreskin up and down, "stand up lads!" Slowly at first the others joined in. "But how do we know if Lynda is standing?" said Alex who was quick on the uptake. "Unlike you I had the foresight to work on myself beforehand," said Lynda with some asperity. It's called planning". She looked around at the eight men all busy trying to bring themselves to erection. "Come on hurry up. The meeting needs to get started." Despite the embarrassment, actually masturbating with Lynda watching was quite a turn on and soon there was a rather strange circle of eight erect men and one clothed woman. The meeting could then begin but as the men's concentration left their penises - well for a few moments anyway - they started to droop. Lynda was quick to notice and chide. Colin reminded Lynda she had agreed the week before to ensure they remained standing and perhaps it was up to her to ensure sufficient stimulation. "And are you actually still standing yourself, Lynda?" asked Alex repeating his question. "You seem very quick to criticise the rest of us but we have no proof that you are complying with the terms of your concept." "I think so," but Lynda didn't sound so sure, "my little man was certainly standing when I came in - and my nipples as well." "Hmm," said Alex, "this idea of yours doesn't seem to be working - even for you." Well that did it. Lynda's judgement was being questioned. Her blouse and bra were off in a trice and once more the men saw Lynda's pretty breasts and, yes, the nipples were certainly just about standing. This of course caused a general hardening around the circle. Penises pumping up from the horizontal to a standing position. Alex did not seem prepared to leave his question alone, "I'm sorry Lynda but can we just clarify whether you are in fact standing. I can see our other colleagues are certainly standing, if I may say so, our MD most impressively." This certainly brought a laugh from the men. "But we cannot check on your own status at present." Lynda looked rather uncomfortable with this. She did not at all like the idea that she was slipping up: equally it was evident she was having some struggle about proving the point. Colin was concerned that perhaps Adrian Brightly's suggestions, his implanting of what was certainly a very odd and distorted version of normal behaviour - and indeed what holding a meeting standing up usually meant - were not holding and her mind was going to break free of the control Adrian Brightly had placed on it. But Colin need not have worried. Adrian Brightly's subtle suggestions and control over Lynda held. It was too deeply implanted - too carefully constructed to fail. "I'll show you," said Lynda and to her colleagues mutual delight she pulled off her trousers and panties, lent back against a table, lifted her bottom up so that it rested on the table and spread her legs wide. It was, of course, a sight the men had been wanting to see - they had seen everything else - the irritating Lynda's sex exposed and open to their gaze. "Well?" demanded Lynda. Alex was bold, "It's difficult to see, Lynda, may I touch?" "If you must." Alex moved close to Lynda and peered at her exposed sex framed by fluffy fair curls. He was intrigued by the comparative smallness of her inner lips so different from his own wife's which were much more substantial, quite long really, and which he rather liked to tease and pull with his own lips. Lynda's sex was much more compact less complex and rather like an open pale pink clam. He was tempted to push the end of his forefinger into her, but wary because that would not be checking whether she was standing. He rather thought she was but, just to make sure, he touched Lynda with his forefinger just above her oval opening and let it slide up across her little pee hole and onto her clitoris. Yes there was a definite hardness there, like a tiny pea. Lynda was, if not standing, getting up off her chair. He rubbed gently and felt a further hardening. "I think you are standing now Lynda." Lynda was off the table and back in the circle before Alex finished speaking anxious to resume the meeting. She had no worries about the others standing as they were very visibly doing just that. But as the meeting continued and the men's attention turned to business they started once more to lose their hardness and cocks began to shorten and jerk downwards towards the floor. Lynda was aghast. "You've got to stay standing for the meeting!" "I'm sorry Lynda but I think I've got to delegate to you the task of keeping us standing. You did say you would ensure everyone remained standing and it would be up to you to ensure sufficient stimulation." Lynda could not easily stay in the circle and manually stimulate all the men, she could only reach those on either side of her. She soon found the easiest way was to rotate around the outside of the circle and reach in to pull on the cocks in turn. This way she maintained eye contact with various colleagues in turn, though not the ones she was stimulating, and could join in the discussion. It was a very bizarre but pleasurable experience for the men to stand in a circle facing their erect colleagues and not only feel but, when not being touched, see a female hand come between each in turn and pull on a cock. It meant that each was kept stimulated both by touch and the erotic image of occasionally seeing naked Lynda and her hand working colleagues' penises. This was further enhanced when Alex asked if Lynda was still standing and she expressed concern that this might not still be so. "May we assist you as necessary?" And so as Lynda put her hand to work a cock the man put his hand back and between Lynda's legs and played with her, stimulating and encouraging her clitoris. Indeed she received more stimulation than the men as she was continually receiving attention whereas the men received in turn enough to stay pleasurably erect but not enough to come. It was a good meeting, made the more so because Lynda's 'duties' meant her dominance was broken as she was unable to speak or make her views felt as much as usual. The end was reached. "AOB?" asked Colin. "Just one thing," said Alex," I've been standing for about an hour and a quarter now. I think the way Lynda has held the meeting, indeed held us all, has been effective but an hour and a quarter is a long time to stand and..." "You mean the meeting needs to come to a proper conclusion." "Do I?" "Yes indeed. I am quite sure that is what you mean. That is right isn't it, Lynda, in accordance with your meeting plan?" "Of course," said Lynda, "you need to come, that follows as night follows day, as you have been standing for such a long time. She looked at the men as if they had said something particularly obvious and stupid. "It would be quite wrong to leave you uncomfortable. You must come. The question is where? Well, we hardly want to mess the carpet do we?" "So where do you suggest, Lynda?" asked Colin winking at the others. "Why in me of course. You come - and that should make me come. We all come and the meeting is properly concluded." Colin beamed at his colleagues, "Well I think the MD should come first." Lynda was quickly back on the table, lying down, sex right at the edge of the table, feet resting either side, open and ready for intercourse. It was obvious to colleagues how ready and prepared she was. They could see she was very wet and, after all, they had been feeling and playing with this wetness with their fingers for the last half an hour or so. All Colin had to do, standing both as regards his feet and erection, was push his cock into Lynda. He glanced at his colleagues, who were gathered in a semi-circle around him, before turning back to look down at Lynda and watch as he sank his penis into her, slowly pushing the moist pinkness aside, enjoying both the sight and the feeling of hot wetness enveloping his penis. Already as he entered he was ready to come but he did not want to hurry the experience however much his colleagues might wish him to get on with it and let them have their turn. He rocked backwards and forwards at no great speed for a few minutes, occasionally glancing at his colleagues. A few of them were unable to resist stroking their own cocks not so much to maintain hardness, because the erotic vision of the exposed Lynda was doing that, but simply for the pleasure of the stimulation. Colin lent a little forward and took hold of Lynda's breasts, feeling their firmness and the little points of hardness in the palms of his hands as he rocked his penis backwards and forwards inside her. The hour's preparation, the steady manual work by Lynda had charged him well. With a grimace, easily interpreted by his colleagues as indicating one of their turns was imminent, he began to come spurting once, twice... six times into Lynda. The withdrawn penis still stood stiffly. It glistened with Lynda's wetness but the head was now coated in a creamy whiteness and from the tip dripped more. "James next I think." James stepped forward, pausing to admire his now close view of Lynda's swollen pudenda. Taking himself in hand he pointed the smooth purple head of his cock at Lynda's entrance and eased himself inside. He slipped easily into the smooth sheath. It felt very good to be in Lynda after a morning's standing and stimulation. Holding her thighs he pushed back and forth, gliding in Lynda's now enhanced wetness, his shaft shining with moisture as it appeared and disappeared into her. He put his hand on her mons stroking the silky fair curls. The profusion of blond curly hairs, they really did curl more the closer they were to the slit. He ran his finger down the divide watching the hairs move and felt the change from dryness to wetness the further his finger dropped down the little valley. AOB - How To Conclude A Meeting The regular sliding motion was very enjoyable. He brought his penis out until it almost fell from Lynda, the purple head showing, before he pushed slowly back in. He could feel the swing of his balls as he moved, the heat of the room and his normally generous scrotum allowing considerable movement. On one of his strokes he misjudged and the purple head came right out. The rigidity of the staff pulling it upwards so it stroked right across Lynda's clitoris causing her to jump. He glanced around. The others were all looking at him with his wet cock standing with the purple head almost touching his stomach. "My turn," said Tom. "I... I haven't come yet," said James. "Don't be so impatient Tom, you can wait," said Colin. Tom had been misled by the creamy whiteness across the purple head. Unmistakably it was semen but it was not James'. James pushed in again and resumed his regular movement. It did not last long and it was not many moments before it was Merv's turn as James came, his penis pumping a considerable load into Lynda. James watched as he slowly withdrew his cock inch by inch. Softening, it fell out at the last, swinging down to hang below him. Its departure was closely followed by the appearance of a hint of whiteness at the entrance to Lynda's vagina. She was beginning to fill - but there was more to come. Merv stepped forward to line himself up. He was excited at the prospect of penetrating Lynda but a little appalled at the idea of touching another man's semen. He paused and watched as a creamy white trickle left Lynda and ran downwards. Merv was not too sure about this. "Hurry up," said Tom, "we want to come too, you know." Merv pushed and his cockhead touched Lynda and easily slipped in having the effect of pushing his colleagues' semen back up the canal. He reached forward, smiling at Lynda, to take hold of the points of her breasts, "OK?" he said to her. "Oh yes, very OK!" He began to move sliding his penis along the warm wet tunnel, luxuriating in the feeling. He took longer to come than the others due to having already enjoyed an encounter with his girlfriend that morning. He had not meant to because, like the others, he had been expecting something very interesting to occur at the meeting but it had been difficult to avoid ejaculation in bed that morning with his girlfriend waking him from a very comfortable dream by sucking on his already rigid cock. It was a double pleasure. Not just actually being inside Lynda but also to have her breasts in his hands. They were so round. He did not think he had ever seen a girl with breasts that were so completely like halves of a sphere. The delicious pale pink of the areolae and the hard points of her nipples at their centres were a delight to him. He lightly brushed them with his fingertips causing Lynda to squirm in pleasure. It was clear that it was not just Merv who was enjoying the sexual activity. His hips continued to pump backwards and forwards driving his penis like a slow moving piston in its casing. Merv could have slowed and maintained the action for many, many more minutes. His early morning experience meant he had great control but he was conscious, as a good team member is, of the needs, the pressing needs of his colleagues. He allowed himself to come, pistoning harder and squeezing Lynda's nipples as the first spurt shot from his penis to join the contribution already made by the others. It was Tom who found himself last in the queue. What he would like to have done was suggest to Lynda that perhaps she would like to change position, that she might be more comfortable on her hands and knees with her bottom raised in the air allowing him rear access. But he thought it best to leave things as they were. She might find the request odd and not in keeping with her concept of how the meeting should be run. It would not do to confuse Lynda. By now a pool of semen had collected between Lynda's thighs, it was running, or appearing to run, as a steady stream from her vagina down between her bottom cheeks and onto the table top. Tom stepped forward, his the last remaining useful and erect cock in the room and pushed into Lynda. She was not just wet, she was positively slopping with liquid. Tom slipped easily straight in and up to the hilt. He could feel his balls suddenly become wet and realised they were dragging in the pool of semen that had formed between her thighs. "Male bonding!" he thought to himself with a smile. Like his colleagues before him he was soon holding Lynda's round breasts and looking right at her pretty face. Her hair was damp with perspiration, her face flushed, her mouth was open and she was panting. Her tongue licked her lips. Tom had an urge to kiss her as she lay there looking so erotic but that would not have been appropriate. One does not passionately kiss one's colleague at a business meeting. Lynda was sexually very excited, she could not remember ever having felt so wanton, so excited, so desperately in need of an orgasm. She was helping her colleagues to come after their meeting standing, but she could not seem to come herself and she was desperate for that climax. "I think everyone has done very well. Tom - I expect you are close to coming? I am sure Lynda is, would you like to Lynda?" Colin spoke in an authoritative manner. "Yes, Oh I am so desperate to." "Well you can come now Lynda, excuse me Tom." Colin lent forward and put his thumb right on Lynda's clitoris just above where Tom's penis was pumping. The effect was dramatic. Lynda's back arched and she went rigid, a deep animal moan escaped from her as wave upon wave of orgasm spread through her body. Tom promptly joined her, releasing his own pent up excitement into her, pulse after pulse of semen spurting from his cock. Colin waited a few moments before saying, "A most successful meeting. Thank you very much for organising it Lynda. A most interesting experiment in how to run a meeting. One we must try again don't you think? Were you happy with it Lynda? Did it achieve the objectives you set?" Tom pulled out of Lynda, his half erect cock rather like the stopper in a bottle. No sooner out and the bottle began to pour. Lynda sat up to answer Colin, the force of gravity releasing yet more semen to run out of her. She sat on the table, thighs slightly apart analysing in a logical and intelligent manner the success of the meeting. No one was listening: the men were all comparing the current Lynda to the one they usually saw. Her pretty round breasts had a sheen of perspiration, indeed her whole body was damp from the excitement, her hair was dishevelled and quite wet in places and between her thighs all the men could see the steady pearly white stream of their own come seeping steadily from Lynda's swollen and rather red sex adding to the spreading puddle on the table top. Colin foresaw great things for his firm now he had sorted out a little personality clash within his top team. He was due to see Adrian Brightly that evening and would compliment him again. He was also looking forward to hearing what he would need to do on the 'one to one' exercise, manager to staff member Adrian was proposing as part of Lynda's special course. AOD Angelos City, Angelorian continent, Seraphia; 3432: Davariel watched his best friend, Kabiel, spread his black wings and take to the lavender and pink streaked heavens. The sun was dipping into a golden ocean, its rays stabbing slashes of light in a breathtaking display. The dazzling display of nature left Davariel unmoved. Loneliness was a hollow feeling in his heart. Most other fledglings were away visiting their families. "But not me," Davariel whispered, peeking out from his bedroom balcony doors. Leaning against the cold stone wall, he stared out at nothing in particular, swallowing hard against an annoying lump forming in his throat. Davariel scowled. Family. He had none save for the reapers that had drawn him in one stormy night after he'd been abandoned at the holy city's gate. Whomever left him hadn't bothered to cut away the placenta and umbilical cord; just wrapped him in a bloodied old blanket and left him crying in the rain, barely an hour old. Davariel gazed at the rolling lawns and pewter fountains surrounding the fortress castle, his home, or prison, depending on how one viewed it. Perched atop Mount Chielos, a wall twenty spans high and fifteen thick kept it separate from the modern metropolis of Angeloria; a metropolis he barely ever saw anymore except whenever he peered out from his balcony doors. It spiraled down the mountain face, close to the surging sea, home to thousands of white winged citizens. To them, Davariel was the prime cause of their grief; the reason thousands upon thousands of off worlders invaded their pristine city...to get a view of him, the most beautiful Seraph ever born. A god. Davariel sneered. "A wretched prisoner." Unwilling to dwell on painful things, he pushed away from the glass doors, tearing off his soctanal from his hips and strode toward the steaming bath set up in the middle of his room. Placing his hands on the rounded edge of his new jewel-encrusted gold tub, he opened his wings, his reflection catching his attention for a moment. His blonde hair had grown very long. Some reapers kept it trimmed around their shoulders, but Davariel like feeling it brush the top of his upturned ass. He smiled, despite the melancholy in his soul, and with a few sweeps of his jet wings, he lifted himself into the hot water. Bliss. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and submerged himself. Once thoroughly soaked, he rose and reached for a bottle of his favorite wash and sponge. He heard the hum of Kabiel's wings, and voice as he recorded images with his new crystal vid. "They stand there all day long, once every moon cycle, calling him...and what does that son-of-a-bat do?" Davariel knew Kabi referred to the horde of off worlders swarming around the holy city of Angelos walls...waiting to get a glimpse of him. Not today. The sound of wings fluttering in the breeze stopped with a thump that announced the chestnut-haired reaper had landed on Dava's balcony. "He snubs them like the conceited ass he is," Kabiel finished in a loud voice, obviously trying to goad Davariel. Davariel just ignored him, like usual, bringing the big soapy sponge over his head. He squeezed, allowing the suds to drench him, head back, throat arched, tight-nippled chest pushed out. How he loved to tease with his body, and Kabiel's silence only attested to Davariel's legendary beauty. He knew Kabi stared entranced and spread his wings farther upon feeling the last rays of the sunset strike his wet body. Kabi cleared his throat, as if shaking himself from his stupor. "Look at that pretty girl indulging in her bath," he teased, but his voice came out deep, aroused. Davariel grinned, opening his eyes to see pink staining Kabi's cheek guiltily. Feeling wicked, Dava tucked his wings behind his back, and spread his thighs as he raised his hips. "Come here," he purred, "let me show you how much of a girl I am." Kabiel snorted, trying to hide his smile. "Have you no shame, reaper? I'm recording this for my dear sweet mother." Davariel rolled his eyes. "Oh, well . . ." he laughed, rising from the water, "in that case, let's give her something beautiful to visualize when she mounts your father." His best friend's silver eyes went round when Dava gripped his erection and stroked in a lazy rhythm. He never stopped recording, but instead turned the crystal orb to get a closer shot of Davariel shamelessly masturbating. Kabiel burst out laughing when Dava tweaked one of his nipples with his free hand and wiggled his tongue with all the perversion he could muster. "Brat," Kabiel exclaimed. "Me?" Davariel made a show out of looking offended. "She's the one always trying to get her hands into my soctanal," he replied, mentioning the traditional fledgling reaper's black satin loincloth. Kabiel gave him a wry grin and shrugged. "We're supposed to be angels." He wiggled his wings for emphasis. Davariel rolled his eyes with a sigh. "Death angels, Kabi." He lowered himself back into the warm water. "We kill demons and devils. Nothing angelic in killing." He slipped beneath the water for a few seconds and resurfaced, spreading his wings wide, and shaking them. Droplets of water rained everywhere. Kabiel, shielded himself and his vid-crystal from the deluge with his own wings. "That's what we reapers are born and bred to do," he pointed out from beneath his feathers. The door squeaking open drew their attention. Davariel already knew it was the high priest, Gadriel without having to turn his head to look behind him. The older reaper frequently came to him when he bathed. It seemed today would be no different from usual. Kabiel gulped, his eyes wide as he took a few steps back. The high priest stalked forward, Kabiel backing up even more until he tripped on the step that marked the bedroom floor from the balcony. His wings twitched out to steady him before clipping tight against his back. Gadriel marched to the balcony with a frown and closed the glass doors on Kabiel and his annoying vid-crystal. "B-but how am I supposed to get to my room, father Gadriel?" Kabiel tapped on the glass with annoying persistence. "You can climb down," Gadriel's voice roared, making Kabiel flinch and move away from the glass. "And if I catch you flying within sacred grounds again, I shall thrash your bare hide, boy." The high priest gripped the wide leather belt cinched low on his narrow hips, making Kabiel gape and shudder. With that fledgling reaper scooted over the edge of the balcony and disappeared. Davariel snickered, closing his eyes once more as he angled his head back. "You'd enjoy doing that, wouldn't you, father?" It wouldn't be the first time father Gadriel had reddened a fledgling's ass. He opened his wings as he squeezed the wet sponge over his head. Davariel couldn't help the smug grin that graced his lips. He knew the picture he presented, with his neck tipped back, body arched seductively as water from the sponge cascaded over him. He knew exactly how much power he held over the high priest at that moment. After rubbing the excess water from his eyes, Davariel opened them to see Gadriel kneeling next to the gold tub with a look of utter adoration on his face. The high priest's silver eyes raked over his body as he sighed. His eyes.... Davariel reached over to his right and picked up a mirror. Once again, he looked into his own face. Every reaper had silver-grey eyes...except for him. His eyes were not only a shocking shade of electric blue, they were larger than normal, almost encompassing the entire white area, making Davariel unique amongst other reapers. He always wondered why. What alien species had contributed to his conception? That was the reason he was named Davariel. It meant God's different one in the ancient cherubic tongue of the Dominatio's. Davariel frowned at his face. He didn't want to be different. He longed to be free, to be normal, have a family, someone to love and that loved him, maybe his own chicklings to call him papa. Yes. Gadriel gently pulled the mirror away from Davariel's face, breaking into his reverie. The high priest's eyes smoldered with barely repressed lust. "Such a beautiful sight, my Davariel." Davariel lowered his lashes with a coy smile. At least he was father Gadriel's special boy. "My new tub? The ruler of a Fae planetary system sent it as a gift." "No, silly angel." Father Gadriel laughed. "You. You're the beautiful one." He reached out and caressed Davariel's face. Davariel's smile faded with a wistful sigh as he recalled one of the special visitors he had Kabiel pluck out of the horde of visitors today. It was a young Seraphian girl with wings so white they were almost blue. He bit his lip, leaning into Gadriel's caress as he looked up from beneath his gold tipped lashes. "I met a girl today. She was one of the privileged ones allowed into our city." Davariel held his breath, waiting. Surely, father Gadriel would understand his curiosity. Gadriel's grin waned. He'd screened the special visitors and there was no girl amongst them. He'd never allow a temptation near his beloved angel. Of course, he knew Davariel occasionally would have his friends fish people out from amidst the throngs that came to see him. Whoever caught his fancy he'd have brought to him, like a child picking out sweet treats at the market. Bringing aliens onto sacred grounds was forbidden, but since Davariel had no blood family to visit, the high priests and priestesses had taken pity on him and allowed him the indulgence. When Davariel was smaller, he'd pretend the alien was his mother who'd come, or his father. It was always the same. The angel-struck creature would pick him up and hold him for hours, until visiting time came to an end. Then they would have to pry the child from the hysterical alien. There were times when Davariel had cried too as he waved bye-bye to another pseudo mommy or daddy. But now, having come into full sexual bloom, Gadriel should have known Davariel would eventually start plucking out girls for his pleasure. The very thought had the dark haired reaper gritting his teeth in irritation Davariel raised his face. "I like her. I want you to find her and include her in our games." "Absolutely not," Gadriel bellowed, his voice echoing in the large chamber. He reared back when Davariel slammed his fists into the water and screamed like a child having a tantrum. "Why not?" Not wanting the boy to work himself into a belligerent mood, the high priest cleared his throat and tried in a softer voice, "Calm yourself, sweetling." "I will not." Davariel stood, the water cascading down his long, lean body, like a shimmering curtain. "I want her." He faced the high priest undaunted, fists clenched at his sides. Gadriel's eyes couldn't help but devour the sight. He gulped and tried to raise his eyes to the young warrior's angered face. "Temptation. You must stay away from-" "What difference is there if I play the same game with her that you play with me? I want to know what it feels like to be with a woman." Davariel's wings fluttered behind him, lifting him from the tub. His soaked hair left a trail of water that streamed from his curled toes as he flew to the side of his bed. He flung himself belly first onto the burgundy, satin coverlet that draped the round, angel-sized bed. Gadriel rushed over to where he lay. His hands itched to mold themselves to all that wet, silky flesh, but he knew he needed to be patient. The fledgling reaper could become upset enough to tell someone about their secret games. Reapers were forbidden to engage in any sexual activity. Just because Gadriel used the scantivale to keep their auras from mingling didn't mean he wouldn't be punished. Davariel was just so beautiful, Gadriel could not help bt desire the young warrior "She'll never be satisfied allowing you to play with her through the scantivale," Gadriel pleaded, mentioning the transparent barrier they always used in their erotic games. "She'll eventually want to feel you skin to skin. Please, Davariel. She'll make you fall from grace." When Gadriel reached out to caress him, the young reaper shrank away from his touch in contempt. "Don't touch me. I want Levinia." Davariel's eyes narrowed to furious blue slits. "If I can't have her, you'll never touch me again." Those words sent a shock of alarm through Gadriel. He was addicted to Davariel's charms and the mere thought of never being able to touch him again made him want to lash out and hurt someone, Davariel included. "But, son, be reasonable," he insisted. "You're a holy warrior. We're not allowed to take mates." "Then I don't want to be a fucking holy warrior," Davariel snarled back. Fury filled Gadriel like bitter poison. He clenched his fists, struggling not to give in to the desire to slap that beautiful face. Petulant, spoiled little shit. Never. He would never let Davariel go. It was time to teach the unruly youth a lesson. He took a deep breath and smiled at Davariel's scowling face. "It's alright, my sweet boy. Father Gadriel will help you." His smile broadened as he palmed his impatient cock. "Don't I always give you everything you want? I love you." Chapter One Eighty years later; New York City, North American continent, Earth; 3512: Luciel gripped the hilt of her sword. The edge of the blade dripped black blood on the grimy sidewalk. It seemed like the end of time was upon the entire universe. There were hordes of devils and demons everywhere, killing and destroying everything in their paths. In the short time it had taken to teleport from her penthouse to the scientific complex where she usually trained, she'd encountered about twenty devils and six demons, all quickly disposed of by her own hand. Luciel usually took the monorail to get into the center of the city, but ever since the whole planet had gone to hell in the past week, she'd had to resort to the risky and tricky deal of teleporting. She gazed across the street at the shattered tube of the monorail. Hovercrafts, and other personal air transports littered the streets like fallen over-ripe fruit. Most of them had been driven to the ground on purpose, piloted by demonically possessed citizens bent on murder and destruction. Five cruisers made their way across the sky, their saucer-shaped hulls casting misshapen oval shadows across the devastation surrounding Luciel. Galactic guardian soldiers, scouting out survivors. There were humans who hadn't succumbed to possession; the pure of heart. Luciel raised her sword to signal she was alright. It didn't matter, though. They would recognize her. She was the only Earth-born Master Guardian. She sensed the presence of a life force approaching and turned to face the newcomer. A brief flash of blue-white light faded to reveal a white winged Seraph dressed in the same black uniform Luciel was wearing. Aria's light brown hair curled about her round face and her green eyes stared at Luciel. In them, Luciel saw the reflection of the desolation spread out around them. "There are too many of them." The Seraph's voice was like the soft wash of a flowing spring, so at odds with the ruins surrounding them. Luciel looked about. Most of the city was burned out, the smoke having turned the sky grey. Blackened buildings with smashed windows stood like terrified witnesses to the struggle between good and evil being waged in the city. Amidst the crashed hover-crafts and transports were human bodies, strewn about in various stages of decomposition; the carcasses of those once possessed. Those not killed were hiding. There were other pulses of life forces around them...devils. They hid amid the debris and rotting corpses; skulking in the sewers, waiting for the right moment to strike. The demons were different. They were actual divine fallen angels, not Seraphian-born beings. When they appeared they killed without mercy or hesitation. "What about reapers?" Luciel toed one body that seemed to be moving a bit, only to startle a large rat that had been feasting within the corpse. The rodent scurried over her black boot into a nearby magazine booth on the street corner, screeching in protest. "Davariel has killed so many of them. The few thousand reapers that remain are scattered over the invaded worlds trying to destroy as many of the demons and devils as they can." Avaria shook her head, her eyes misting over. "Luciel, as long as the rift remains open more of them will keep pouring out." Luciel tried not to shudder at the mention of that name. Davariel; the beautiful black-winged Seraph that had haunted her dreams as a child, sung to her, played with her, and when she bloomed into a young woman, kissed her the way a man kisses a woman he desires. His mouth sealed over hers, tongue delving in to taste every centimeter of hers until she thought her knees would give from the emotion. Luciel hadn't known who the beautiful black-winged angel was at first. It was on her sixteenth birthday, the day she received her divine sword from a Dominatio turning her into a human arch angel and her ascent into becoming a fully fledged Master Guardian that she realized with sickening horror, that the beautiful angel she was in love with was the very one she was ordered to kill. The same one who'd unleashed the reign of Hell in the universe—the angel of destruction, Davariel of Angelos. She turned away and cleaned her blade on a stack of newspapers which were still tied in a neat bundle. "I've managed to get close enough to cut him during the holographic training sessions." "Luciel, letting you battle him . . ." "I know-I know." She spun around, her long, dark hair feathering across her face. "I won't let him capture me." She knew very well that Davariel needed a virgin Master Guardian. The purity and power of the virgin's blood would strengthen his demonic sword which would be used to finish breaking open the gates to hell. "But if he does capture me, I have another plan." Avaria shook her head and opened her lips to say something more. The feel of icy-cold dread slithered up Luciel's spine, making her look around before snapping her gaze back to Avaria who stood poised with her sword unsheathed, in a battle ready stance. The Seraph Master Guardian also surveyed their surroundings. Luciel felt as if she'd lived this moment before. What? Something was going to happen. Someone approached...a wall of crackling power...pure evil... Seven demons materialized; three sprung out from a dark crevice between two buildings, two others crawled out of a puddle of blood that had pooled in a large hole in the gutter and the other two descended screeching from a rooftop. Avaria and Luciel launched themselves into battle against the creatures. Sunken yellow eyes in corpse-like faces with pointed brown teeth, the fallen angels always transformed their true beauty into terrifying visages. It helped them feed off the energy of terror they evoked. Some of them had no color, their translucent wrinkled skin showing their putrid innards. The others had a bluish or grey hue to their leather-like flesh. They also fed on the emotions of anger and hatred, so Luciel made sure to keep her feelings well reined. Her blade sliced across the neck of a blue demon that flew at her. The creature's head sailed about twenty feet before hitting a light pole and falling into a mesh trash can. Two more Master Guardians appeared and helped them battle the demons, using their white wings as well as their blades to fight. Even though Luciel did not have wings, she was by no means at a disadvantage. She impaled two more demons and was about to go after a third, but one of the Master Guardians intercepted, killing the creature before she did. Luciel panted as she watched the carnage around her. More demons appeared and a few devils; so many.