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Here

By: WFEATHER



I had known Bryan for years and considered him my best friend. We were very close, but something unspoken had always prevented us from advancing our friendship to the next level, even though we were compatible in so many ways. When he had moved away for college, I was heartbroken, for I ended up staying behind and working in the family business instead, but I was elated when he returned four years later for a job in a neighboring town, for once again my best friend was not someone I could see occasionally, but someone I could see regularly. 

Of course, Bryan had changed over the four years of college. He had been exposed to all sorts of things, and he and I would chat about it online or occasionally by phone. He had learned of Japanese animation, philosophical theories which made one question one's own existence, alternative sexualities, the intricacies of important international legal documents... He shared it all with me, imparting some of his newly-gained knowledge to me and using me as a sounding board to ensure that he properly understood and internalized what he had learned. 

Shortly after he had moved back to the area, he invited me over for dinner. I had expected pizza or delivered Chinese (our favorite), but he surprised me and actually cooked -- something he had learned in college as well, as a roommate's girlfriend was an excellent cook and had taught them both several recipes. 

As Bryan cooked in the kitchen, I strolled around his apartment. He had already shown me his place, but I took more time to drink it all in. He had bought a two-bedroom apartment, turning one bedroom into a small home office -- it still needed more furnishings, but it had a wireless fax/printer and a small desk at which to work in the evenings, and his work laptop showcased one of his major interests by displaying a screensaver of various Corvettes from the 1970s to the present. His bedroom was nice with a very masculine feel, from the sturdy black wrought-iron bed frame to the dark colors of the dresser and the curtains and the sheets. The bathroom was already in need of cleaning, for which I had previously chided him that he needed a woman to help take care of him -- and he had wholeheartedly agreed with a wink and a smile. The living room was a showcase of his love of technology, including a large TV, four video game consoles, and his personal laptop. 

...which displayed a screensaver of busty women in bikinis. 

I sighed. From where he stood in the kitchen, he could not see me as I glanced down at my chest. Perhaps that was the reason we had never progressed beyond our close friendship, I reasoned. Looking at the girls and women shown in the screensaver, I guessed that the smallest of them would wear a C-cup bra. 

To the right of his personal laptop was a bookcase which housed no books, but instead functioned as a display for his collection of anime-style figurines. All of the figurines were of women and girls from various Japanese animation series and films and/or from video games. With only two exceptions, all of them were also quite busty, displaying plenty of cleavage in their bikinis or their partially-open shirts or their low-cut tops or dresses. Even in the few cases where the woman's cleavage was not explicit, where she was fully covered all the way up to the neck, her breasts were so prominent that they attracted even my eyes. 

As I sighed sadly again, Bryan emerged from the kitchen, and from the expression on his face, he could see that I was somewhat distressed. "What's wrong?" he asked softly, reaching out to put a hand on my shoulder. 

"These," I said, placing my hands on my chest since my breasts were too small to actually be cupped. Then, dropping my hands to my sides, I turned away from him and from the busty females. 

There was a moment of hesitation, and then I felt my best friend step up behind me and wrap his arms around me. He had done that many times before, but somehow it took on an additional meaning. "Breast size is definitely not an indication of worth, you know," he told me. 

"I know, but..." I just did not have the words to explain to him how I felt like less of a woman sometimes because of the importance placed on having large breasts. I just could not relate to him how so many people would look at me two or three times to try to figure out if I was a woman or a man attempting to masquerade as a woman. I just could not figure out how to make him understand that the most beautiful dresses or tops that I would love to wear just will not fit because they are designed to be filled or even in part supported by large breasts. 

To my surprise, he slid a hand onto a breast, the first time Bryan had ever done that with me. "I don't care about what is or isn't on your chest," he told me. Then, moving his hand directly over my heart, he added, "I care far more about what's here, and I know from many years of knowing you that what is here is something I would like to experience for myself." 

His words touched me, and as a smile began to spread across my lips, the smoke alarm sounded. 

Dinner was burned. 

We ended up ordering pizza, and it was our first meal together as something more than just best friends. 

Here?!



Her soft lips brushed against my neck as she whispered "here." 

"Here? What, right here?" I glanced around nervously. We weren't exactly hidden. Ok, so we were standing amongst a clump of trees but they didn't actually conceal us. "You sure?" I questioned, "isn't this a bit, you know, public?" 

She laughed, tossing back her long blond hair so it rippled in the sunlight. God she was beautiful, a true angel, yet she had the devil's own glint in her eyes. 

"Here's perfect," she breathed daring me to defy her. 

My beautiful date was apparently thrilled by the public location she'd chosen for her first sexual encounter with me. I wasn't so sure but it was hard not to accept her challenge when I wanted her so badly. I'd flirted with that sensual goddess for months on-line and wanked myself off over her image time and time again. How could I possibly turn down the real thing? 

"Ok," I agreed, "No, wait!" 

I pursed my lips and tried to think clearly. A battle raged in my mind as my naturally reserved nature forced me to contemplate the reality of having sex in public. I panicked, Oh shit! I'd never done anything like that before; no quick shags in a dark alley behind a nightclub, no midnight fumble in the bunkers at the golf course, nothing. And she'd picked an urban park teaming with families, dog walkers and all manner of people out enjoying themselves in the brilliant sunshine. It was ridiculous; we'd be caught-out for sure! Hell, we'd be arrested! 

"Come on, I want this," she purred. 

She took my hand in hers, stroking it with her thumb then she gave me that look, the one I found irresistible. It was the same adorable look she'd flashed at me the day I'd agreed that FaceTime was no longer enough, the day we'd arranged to meet in the flesh...and what flesh she had; clear skin so smooth and soft, perfect figure, tight round arse and cute little breasts that jiggled beneath her cotton dress - how could I resist that? She was everything I'd ever dreamed of fucking and incredibly she wanted me. 

Gazing at her standing before me, I knew I was putty in her hands. Her smile was so inviting and her body intensely fuckable. She was my delectable, daring temptress who'd had me wrapped around her little finger since that first 'hello' email. 

A devious smile kissed her lips as her delicate hands lifted the hem of her dress showing me what lay beneath...oh God, no panties! No underwear of any kind. Those pert breasts weren't confined; I could see the outline of her nipples, hard and prominent in spite of the heat of the day. She was underwear free and already aroused. My heavenly angel wanted to fuck me as much as I wanted her. My resistance crumbled. I let out a groaning sigh and caved in - I had to have her! 

Ignoring the warning bells clanging in my brain I unzipped my trousers to free my aching cock. I was hard as nails, fully erect - had been for hours. 

I immediately felt vulnerable standing there at the edge of the park with my cock out, exposed to the world. Only the thin row of Silver Birch trees stood between me and half the population of the town we'd chosen at random because it happened to be situated half-way between her home and mine. No-body knew me in that park, I wouldn't be recognised, but my lewd actions were deplorable anywhere. I simply shouldn't be contemplating doing what I was about to...but with vulnerability came exhilaration and my cock pulsated mercilessly. It filled with blood 'till it was fit to burst whilst my poor head spun. 

"Oh that's good, you're huge," smiled my mischievous seductress moving closer to get a better look. She'd seen my cock before, many times, but never in the flesh. "May I?" she asked, her hand poised millimetres from my throbbing shaft.

Well I wasn't going to say NO, was I? 

Sighing with undisguised desire she grasped my cock firmly with both hands and proceeded to stroke my length from balls to tip. Her eyes widened and her lips parted, tongue flicking out to moisten them. A low rumbling moan issued from her throat as she dropped unexpectedly to her knees then pressing her breasts against my thighs my cock disappeared inside her mouth. I snatched my breath as her hands grasped my buttocks pulling me towards her and sinking my shaft into her gullet. 

"Oh wow! You can really do that!" I gasped. I remembered her on-line demonstration of that particular talent. She'd made a dildo completely disappear which impressed the hell out of me, but to see it live, to feel her deep throat my own cock...that was out of this world! "Oh fuck YES!" I cried, far too loudly. 

The first of many fellow park-users turned to see what all the commotion was about but I was too busy to notice!

Suddenly she was on her feet, arms draped over my shoulders, one leg raised and wrapped around me. She pushed against me, rubbing her wet slit against my burning cock, her vivid blue eyes holding my gaze. She moaned longingly as I fumbled with my unwieldy erection pressing it against her, desperate to find her silky, wet entrance. 

She let out a yelp when I did! There was nothing gentle about my penetration; I was swift and brutal, skewering her quickly as my cock found what it had been seeking. I fucked her hard, driving into her again and again, lust over-riding every other emotion. My whole being felt electrified, every sense heightened as I thrust continually, pounding her, fucking her the way I'd imagined doing it every time we'd wanked for each other on-line. 

"Oh Fuck, FUCK, urrrrgh!" I rasped through gritted teeth, my climax imminent. I could feel it building and was powerless to stop it.

"Oh my God, I'm close," she shrieked as spasms began to shake her body. Those slender arms of hers gripped me with vice-like power as she lifted from the ground throwing both legs around me, forcing my cock even deeper. She yelped as the depth pained her then closing her eyes she threw back her head and screamed!

Oh my fucking life!! There wasn't a sole in the park who DIDN'T hear that!! 

My balls were so ready to explode they were painful and when her cunt muscles contracted around my buried penis I had to let go...I shot my load into her, grunting like a demented pig whilst all around us the sparse woods began to fill-up with wide eyes, open mouths and shocked expressions!

"Oh fuck, RUN!" she squealed dismounting from me with all the agility of an Olympic gymnast. 

Dress round her waist, hair like a mop she beamed at her audience whilst I, red as a beetroot, semi-erect cock dripping with both our juices, grappled unsuccessfully with my trousers. 

"Come on," she urged. "NOW!"

The distant wail of a police siren spurred me into action. Securing my trousers as best I could I grasped her hand and fled! I ran faster than I had in years. The stitch in my side felt like the onset of a coronary and every muscle in my body burned with a searing fire. The pain was excruciating but I forced to the back of my mind as the shouts behind rose in volume. We ran faster, holding hands and shrieking as we left the chaos behind. The sounds gradually faded into the distance - Thank God!

We reached a supermarket car park on the other side of town before hearts pounding, sweating and gasping, we finally stopped running. Exhausted, we threw ourselves down on the litter strewn grass verge next to the trolley racks. I lay still, unable to breathe but tickled by the laughter welling-up inside me. It soon exploded out, bursting forth in great guffaws that made my poor sides hurt even more. 

I'd never had so much fun in my life! Rolling over towards my angel I looked her in the eyes, those stunning blue eyes, so alive, so mischievous. She was laughing as hard as me. I somehow guessed she would be. 

"That," I snorted, "was wrong on SO many levels."

Giggling hysterically a wicked smile lit up her face. "Admit it, you loved it!" 

She was right. I did. I was exhilarated, aroused, lost in the moment with my delicious angel whose very presence thrilled me. So when she took my hand, hauled me to my feet and began leading me towards the hedgerow behind the supermarket - who was I to protest?



Here and There



His 59th birthday was in a week. It was just a stray thought that quickly left his mind, as the pile of papers on his desk and the continuous soft beeping of his emails arriving on his phone, signaled that yet another day had begun.

Although he had studied law, for many years his current position in this small firm was to give happy endings to negotiations, deal with people and read their minds; then steer their minds into the desired direction. Miles was clever and easy to adapt to situations. He liked the diversity of his job and he liked the cash flow. Most of all, he liked the acknowledgment he received from men and women of all ages. Rejuvenating. 

Miles didn't have a hard exterior; in fact he was a sweet, blue eyed guy that everyone liked. That is the contradiction that made him so successful. He enjoyed life to a reasonable extent and could indeed tame his feelings when needed. This was a long time struggle to get him to tackle both his job as well as his personal matters.

Ah, his personal matters. As he was growing his strength in life, he felt he had held behind parts of his soul and his heart. Some years ago, maybe close to a decade, he decided to let himself indulge into his sensual side more; just as long as it didn't interfere with his steady, married life with his wife of almost thirty years and, of course, his job. 

During small breaks of his precious time, he talked to his partners in firm, jokingly at first, openly afterwards. It was them who introduced him to a world Miles didn't know existed.

It was that period of time when he did what he always did best: use his brain. He signed up in forums, where people shared their inner sexual wishes, many searching for a partner to grant them. 

Miles was excited at first; spent a lot of time chatting and found new ways to excite hisself more. Unluckily for his dear wife, this knowledge was never taken to their bedroom; in fact their encounters were more and more less frequent as he was more and more into chatting. 

A couple of times he took the big step to go on a date with one of them; he was also blessed with the chance to travel for a couple of days in a row, closing cases. All was thrilling; not fulfilling, but thrilling. Miles was a man of mind, of intellect, he wanted to pair a luscious body to a sparkling mind to feel like flying. He was enough grounded to earth to know that he didn't have many chances finding what he missed in his life, so he settled for the easy part, the luscious body. 

OK, life was bearable, good at times.

It was more than six months ago that he bumped into Val. It was just as he was getting tired of saying all the same things to different receivers, same use of adjectives for complimenting on breasts, same questions answered and same sexual scenes described. 

He wanted to erase his account altogether when he saw a thread, asking if there were men out there who 'could love a hard person hard enough.' It had a lighter add on that took the edge off of the quote, but still, something twisted inside Miles, something stirred in his brain cells that was asleep for years. He did what he hadn't done in weeks; he replied. He had a way with words. In fact he was too confident of his selection of words, that he felt proud when he sent his reply. 

Miles found himself checking his inbox more often than regular, anticipating the answer. He cursed inside his head and vowed to delete the account when he had a free, relaxed moment at home this very evening, sipping something, anything. 

Before evening arrived, though, the red sign blinked once. An answer. An answer, unlike what he had expected, an answer subtly criticizing him, his writing, his opinions and, again, taking the edge off with an ironic joke. He didn't want to crack that smile, but he had to. He didn't realize he was smiling the whole time he replied, writing feverishly. How could she? 

That ping pong of answers lasted a couple of days, in which Miles had permitted a small, a very small part of his ear to be dedicated to the beeping of the incoming mails. He thought that it was a sensual play, the other side of the coin he was used to. Until Val broke. Val, the unidentified girl at the other end, Val from Valerie, Vali as Miles teased her. She had a mood swing which let her let down all her guards, quit the tough play and ask for advice. 

Miles was startled. He could easily play her while she was all arrogant in her thirty-four years, but now, a vulnerable girl asking for emotional support; that was bordering friendship, a kind of relationship he had long given up, making sure he was safe without friends. Friends had ruined his marriage, anyway. And him, letting them in. No, no friends. 

What would he do? Delete Val's mail and move on to the next online girl or answer one last time. He decided on one last time. He was tired, exhausted and this was making him smile, even for moments in time. So, yes, he replied.

So Miles and Vali became friends. He found out she was living up north while he was south. He found out her favorite breakfast and got used to her mood swings. He got used to her way of talking to him, the words she brought up from a place he thought he would never recover them from; sweet words that felt like an actual touch on him. 

Then, they exchanged pictures. Miles hadn't gone into sexual role playing with her, just into heavily erotic hints, always in and out of the sexual field. 

Miles was found in a situation where he couldn't express his admiration of her body the way he wanted; it had to be gentle to appeal to her shyness and rough to hit the target, 'Hey, I would love to show you how I like your body!'

There were times he intentionally didn't reply to her for days at which time Val either sent him half a dozen messages in no time or kept as quiet as him. 

Both never realizing that this mind game was dangerous. 

Val understood him and tried to tame her overwhelming fondness of him, but she wasn't as disciplined as he was. She let scenarios of impossible life twists enter her mind in the most inappropriate moments, like when she was out with friends and suddenly was looking out of the window smiling or when she was at the groceries staring at the same product for over five minutes; and still, couldn't describe what the box looked like! 

Val always did what others expected or forced her to do; go out to that restaurant instead of the other, have a cup of ice cream instead of a cone, have her hair shorter than longer, marry at a young age. 

Yes, marry. 

Val had long, dark auburn hair and a pale skin to match. She was polite and easy going for anyone who could endure her bursts of impatience and her tendency to joke when she was silent for too long. A small price to pay, really, for a gracious girl who seemed loyal and giving. 

Val wanted to be free to explore her other side, her Lilith who was kept quiet under a spell. And Miles broke that spell so Val now wanted to be Vali and be left alone to travel to her own life. Her. Own. Life. 

Same time zone, miles apart. Up north, warm south. 

Life has a way of making long cocktail drinks when it is bored. So...

Val was offered a job as a kindergarten teacher that was in the exact city Miles was living. Val's husband was going through a professionally transformation period himself, secure of her and her love, sure of his own love but lacking the effort and the time to show her. As a matter of fact, all his frustration was falling like buckets full of water on her shoulders, she was to blame always. All quarrels ended up with Val saying she was sorry and him holding her, regretting it all; until another circle begun. 

Val accepted the offer. It was more like embracing a sign. 

Mid-September and Vali settled in a hotel room until she could find a place, if the job would be confirmed. All her life was in that suitcase so she was ok wherever she would stay. A hotel was fine. 

Next day was going to be rainy but also hot. Val wasn't used to that humid, Southern weather so she wore her jean shorts and a long white, airy and romantic blouse, got her backpack and decided to grab her free day. She would drop in to say 'hi'. To Miles. Oh, she hadn't informed him of her sudden change in life plans. They were on that no-frequent-speaking-terms, imposed by Miles, of course. She hadn't broken that sequence.

His secretary was Miles's first wall of defense to pass through, strict and professional and rigid and judging. Val's appearance gave Mrs. Reeves a shock. Jean shorts and backpack in a respectable office! They were lucky there weren't any clients waiting! 

"And your name Miss is..."

"Vali. Vali Olson. Mr. Wright knows me."

Yeah, I wonder from where. Without hiding her resentfulness Mrs. Reeves knocked on Miles's door and said "A Miss Olson, Vali, is here... Asking for you. I don't have her as an appointment. What do you want me to do?"

Miles stood speechless. His mind dealt with Mrs. Reeves first, letting her know that, indeed, he didn't have an appointment with Miss Olsen, taking care not to correct 'Miss', and that she could take her number and let her go. He looked casual and his answer was to her liking. Miles was flat on his chair, thinking of the appearance of Val, Vali. He was lucky to face a serious case in front of him, so he occupied his brain fully, taking Vali and her naked pictures out of his mind and promising to deal with her later. 

Val didn't leave a number, much to Mrs. Reeves' joy, and accepted her dismissal smiling. Only when she got out of the building she let herself take small steps and breathe quickly in and out, holding back her tears. 

Miles didn't keep his promise. He stood by his window and, just for a moment, by his twelfth floor office, he caught a glimpse of a young girl, walking reluctantly among hasty moving pedestrians. A girl that looked easily ten years younger than her age. And he was about to celebrate his sixtieth. And he didn't answer her mails deliberately. And he let her go. Just now. 

Val knew what she was about to face when she wanted to change her life to suit herself, she knew she couldn't force life to her liking. She accepted this heartbreak but didn't look back to her old life. 

The next day she wore her happy self face and met the kids and her boss at the kindergarten. Cool. All was different but that was what she wanted, right? She decided to make those kids her first friends here. Maybe her best. Both she and the kids had a delightful day. And a next.

By Thursday she had an evening invitation for Friday night that she had to attend. Boring. She needed badly to mend her mind and stay in with a hot cup of tea. But she had to accept it. Instead of looking for an apartment, she had to find a dress, make her hair and put on makeup. Oh, and find some high heels, too. Boring.

The night was about small town businesses that were blooming, helping them find sponsors to keep them going up. Val's feet were aching from the first steps she took in her strapped heels and the long, black dress didn't make it any easier. Her hair had lost their natural curls and fell sleek and shiny on her shoulders. She had no idea how refreshingly different she looked with minimal make up and the absence of jewelry. After all, she was nobody. Miles didn't even bother with her, after all those talks they had and some steamy exchange of mails. 

But, inevitable things are bound to happen. 

As much as Val kept herself in the shadows, her boss, a vivacious woman who knew almost everybody, touched her shoulder lightly, introducing her to Mr. Wright and his wife, a prominent member, blah blah blah. Val didn't even raise her hand, she kept like a fool looking at him, at his wife, her sparkling diamond necklace and absorbing his voice while he muttered 'nice to meet you.' Yeah, right. 

Val's face flushed; she was so lucky her boss pushed her lightly over to the next crowd of people to introduce her to. 

Miles was quickly regaining himself but he was not a superhuman. His partner, both in the firm as in other activities, like 'men having good time' activities, saw him, caught this moment of weakness. 

"Miles, don't mess with your circle. I can get you one like her in less than an hour."

He was right. He could. Miles was surprised his expression was that obvious. 

Val had lost her cheerful self and decided it was time to slip away and hide herself in her blanket. Like she's always done.

She waited for a taxi while heavy raindrops started to land on her bare shoulders. Her hair was forming curls again and her eyes were betraying her coolness. A strong hold of her waist made her turn. Miles.

"Vali, I wasn't expecting any of this... I..."

"It's OK, Miles, really. I wasn't stalking you or anything... Just was thrilled to be offered a job here, at the city we had been talking so..." Much about in our mails, she was about to say, but stopped. She looked down at her strapped shoes. "It's OK Miles" she repeated with a new found courage. Her sweet self prevailed. It came natural, especially with Miles. Her Miles. 

He looked into her eyes. A big struggle was taking place in him for months now. He would resist. He had to. 

Miles went inside and asked his partner to find him that girl. For tomorrow.

Val sat up awake that night. She felt her mascara smear on her face but just sank in the hard decisions she still had to make, as if those already made weren't enough. 

When Saturday was up in full glory, she washed her face to her usual self and called her boss. As politely as she could she asked if they had a branch in another city. The climate wasn't doing her any good, heat and humidity for a Chicago girl...She understood. She would give her good references and was sorry she couldn't immediately provide her with a job. 

That settled, she booked her tickets for Connecticut, just out of a gut feeling, for the next day. Sunday. On his birthday. Well, her gut feelings weren't reliable lately, but she didn't have anything else to rely on. She was taking the big step.

She laid on her bed with a big smile. That smile took so long to come but it was nice to see it on her face again.

She took a final walk around the city, his city, the city she had fallen for before she even landed, a week ago. 

Knock. 

Light but firm.

Knock. 

She woke up.

She checked the time on her phone. 

12:30 a.m.

She dropped her phone. Oh, no, not again!

Miles was at her door. 

Looked like Miles, but inside he was swimming in his own waters of self exploration.

"Damn you Vali. I was so good before you answered my mail."

Her sleepy voice was startled. "Miles, nice to see you, too."

He pushed her in. For the first time he didn't use words as a weapon. He knew her face, he knew her tastes, he knew how her breasts were and he knew what it took to change her mood. He didn't know how she smelled or how soft her skin was. He didn't know how she'd touch him or how her breath would become. He didn't know what she'd call him or how she'd kiss him. He had to clear that. Now. Before his birthday. 

Miles touched the small of her back and pressed her into him. From that moment on, she surrendered to him. 

He didn't try to impress her, he just touched and went on. Exploring. This wasn't a fuck, this wasn't even lovemaking. This was only about making her his. See how it felt to have your own after many years of having everyone and no one. 

She didn't resist. Val, Vali followed him and reacted to anything he silently proposed. 

She just constantly whispered his name, his name wrapped in other sweet words, but nevertheless his name. Meaning every breath of it. 

She came at the one moment he let himself call her by the name he had chosen for her.

He came later, the moment he tricked himself that this could go on again, tomorrow. He came with a whole body shaking orgasm, hell, a whole life shaking concept. 

"Um... My flight leaves in three hours, Miles." She whispered.

He held her close, too close for a normal breathing, but she was fine, she could live without oxygen forever in his arms. He knew she did the right move. He knew whatever girl he would have, although like her, wouldn't be her. He knew this wasn't enough to make him happy. 

Then again, life changing thoughts are for birthday boys. 

And he still had some hours before his own expired.



Here Come The Nice



This has sexual content but isn't a fuck story. It tries to explore what can happen when people don't communicate and have a conflict of priorities.

----------------

Here come the nice, lookin' so cool
Everyone knows the nice is no fool
He'll bring you up and show you around
He's always there when your feet hit the ground

The Small Faces, 1967

-----------------

"The weekend at last, thank the fuck," Chas growled as took a sip at his expresso coffee.

Chas, Smudge and I were sat in Mario's coffee bar, pondering the end of another week and the prospects for the weekend. You won't find Mario's today but in those days of 1965, Mario's was a haven in Chingford high street where the young bloods from the area would meet to put the world to rights.

Maybe I had better introduce our little band of reprobates.

Chas, what can I say about Chas? A giant of a guy, maybe 6 foot 6 inches tall. Some might think he's fat. Don't be fooled, he's hard as nails. He works as a milk man but his forte is football and rugby. His attitude towards women is offhand, almost ambivalent. He favourite chat-up line would make most people cringe:

"Hi, I'm Chas, do you fuck?"

What's surprising that it worked on most of the birds he chatted-up. I once asked one of the birds I knew what the secret was. She didn't really know other than his size and strength was a turn on. Add to that the fact that Chas didn't mince his words – girls knew exactly what they were getting – a good shag with no complications. Apparently his cock wasn't long but pretty thick. He also had unbelievable staying power.

She explained that when they had stripped off he had laid on his back on the bed, his cock sticking in the air.

"Sit on that and make yourself comfortable," he told her. 

His cock fitted snugly and she had spent the next hour in cowgirl position having orgasm after orgasm. Chas just lay there, hands behind his head, grinning.

He once shagged a girl while watching the whole of the cup final, including extra time. Chas was and still is, a good mate. Always up for a heavy drinking session, always ready to help out if things got nasty. 

Then there was Smudge. Don't ask me why we called him that – it had been his nick name since primary school. Smudge was at art college. Not because he was a budding Rembrandt, although he wasn't without skill as a painter. His motivation was that he wanted to emulate the pop-art gurus, such as Andy Warhole, and become famous. Smudge was the trendy of the group, spending as much money as he could on fashionable gear. He had a long term girl friend, the lovely Cyn. He had been going out with Cyn since they were 11 and they had been fucking like bunnies for quite a while. He also had a car, a mini Cooper in the classic green and white paint job.

Smudge's dad was a wealthy property developer so he was never short for a few bob. Add to that his artistic talent and Smudge was well set up. His real talent lay in "pop art", you know, psychedelic pictures with lots of colours and geometric shapes. His talent had been discovered by a number of concert promoters and Smudge was earning a nice little side line producing posters as well as developing a reputation. He kindly gave me a few originals during the sixties which are all, 40 years on, now worth serious cash – not that I would ever sell them.

Finally, we have my good self, Bernie Stevens. Like my mates, I was 18. I had no real skills except playing guitar. I had started learn guitar when I was 10, seeking to emulate the rockers of the 1950's. I had a natural ability and easily mastered folk, rock, blues and jazz styles. When I left school at 16 I got a job in Sound City, in Shaftsbury Avenue. - one of the hippest music shops in the West End. It was great – I was able to play the best gear and rub shoulders with the pop stars who came into the shop. 

Because of my playing skills my job in the shop was more than just a sales assistant. We had a handful of guys whose job was to serve the day to day customers. My job was to meet with the more significant customers, provide expert advice and to demo the gear. In all it was really cool work and I got to meet some seriously famous people. The high spot was probably meeting Jimi Hendrix early in his career, just after the formation of the Experience. What a nice guy he was. Polite almost to the extent of being deferential but when he wound up a strat through a Marshall amp ( never buy anything else if you're into metal) he took on god like status. The king of rock and blues guitar, he's probably only been surpassed by Stevie Ray Vaughan - another sadly missed giant.

I worked five and a half days a week with Saturday afternoon and Sunday off. That suited me nicely because I would spend Saturday afternoons in Imhof's grooving to some sounds. You won't find Imhof's any more but in those days it was a kick-ass record shop near the corner of Oxford Street and Tottenham Court Road, opposite where the Centre Point building is now. The shop had these listening booths where you could sit and enjoy records before you bought. I would grab five or six albums and spend the afternoon grooving.

Other than work, my life revolved around meeting my friends in the pub and going to gigs and clubs. I wasn't seriously into drugs or free love - to be honest the people who did that all seemed to be people with more money than sense. I didn't earn a fortune but I was comfortable and had cash in the bank. 

I was tall, thin, not too ugly and I had had a few girl friends but surprisingly for the era was still a virgin. I'll explain why a little later.

When I hit 18 my first action was to leave home. Mum wasn't too keen but my dad explained how a young man about town needed his own pied a terre. The lascivious grin that accompanied his comment made mum blush but she realised that her little boy wasn't so little any more. I rented a small, two bedroom flat, in the centre of Chingford and with a little financial help from dad, I soon turned it into a comfortable pad. Apart from the bedrooms, the flat had a large lounge, kitchen and bathroom. What more could a guy ask for? I like a lot of space when sleeping and I had bought a double bed. Add to that a good stereo and couch in the lounge and I was as happy as a pig in shit.

Our little band had been friends for 7 years and spent all our spare time together. 

Life in those days was pretty cool with lots of good music, parties and birds in mini skirts. You know, whoever invented the mini skirt should get a medal. Our favourite pastime was to sit on the seats near the doors downstairs on double deck buses. You got a lovely view of anyone going up the stairs, which meant a nice up-skirt view of dolly birds in their short skirts. Excellent!

---------------

"You guys look as tired as I feel," came a female voice as Cathy put her coffee cup on the table and sat down with a sigh. 

"At last someone decent to look at," I told her. "Instead of these two ugly bastards."

"I love you too," Cathy replied with an 'I could use a good shag' look.

There was no doubt about it, Cathy was a total cutie. We had all lusted after her since the first day we saw her at school when we were eleven. Cathy knew exactly how we felt but had made it clear that there was no way she was going to sleep with any of the three of us. Once she had explained why to me.

"I love you guys to death, you're my best friends ever. There's no way on earth that I would shag any of you and spoil things. Although if the truth be known, under different circumstances you would be the one I would chose Bernie."

The last comment was followed by a kiss which made my hair stand on end. Having said that, Cathy wasn't the sort of girl who gave it away – in fact she once told me that she planned to remain a virgin until she met that special guy who deserved to be her first. 

Cathy had it all. A cute elfin face framed by black hair cut to a Mary Quant bob. She was short with a trim body and full tits which had to be a D cup. Her legs were perfection and were always shown to their best by her mini skirts. Cathy hated jeans or trousers.

"It wouldn't be the same without you guys trying to see what colour knickers I have on," she once told me.

Cathy had a brain too, she was brighter than the three of us put together, and she worked as a librarian in Chingford. She brought a level of intellect to our debates as well a sharp and distinctly lascivious humour.

To be honest, I had had a serious crush on Cathy for years. None of the girls I had met so far in my life measured up to her in any way and this was the reason why I remained a virgin. I held a quiet hope that one day Cathy would be my first.

I glanced at Cathy as she sat down. God she looked good! She wore her working gear, a plain white blouse a blue mini skirt and white tights – all showing her body off to a maximum effect. I could just seen the outline of the white lacy bra she wore. She noticed I was staring at her and our eyes met. Unlike most girls Cathy didn't mind guys eyeballing her. She gave me a broad 'like what you see, big boy?' smile. I gave a slight nod of satisfaction. Sexual telepathy, I loved it!

"So what's the plan for the weekend?" Cathy asked.

"The Yardbirds are at the Marquee but tickets are impossible to get," Smudge replied with a sigh. "It'll be the hottest gig for years."

I grinned and casually tossed five tickets onto the table.

"You mean like these?" I asked.

"Fucking hell, Bern, where did you get those?" Smudge gasped.

"Jeff Beck called in the shop the other day to try out a nice Les Paul 'black beauty' we just got in. We got chatting and he slipped me the tickets," I replied.

"Name dropper," Chas grinned.

"No-ones forcing you to go," I replied, a fraction of a second before he grabbed a ticket from the table.

I had to work the following day, not that I saw it as work. It was so much fun doing what I loved most and being paid for it. What was all the more sweet was that a couple of guys from a well known band – I won't drop their name – called in for some gear. We ended up jamming for an hour. What was great was that my boss encouraged it – it is a sure fire way to bring in customers if they hear cool sounds coming from the shop.

I slipped home after work to shower and change and by six thirty we were stood in our local boozer enjoying a pint. The Marquee had a no alcohol policy so we always had a few in the pub before a gig.

"How about a game or two of table football?" Smudge suggested.

Table football was our favourite pub time entertainment and we all fancied our skills at the game.

"Mine's a rum and coke," Cathy shouted over the noise of the jukebox as she joined our group.

Cathy didn't often meet us in the pub and it made a change to see her.

"We were just going to have play table football," Smudge told her.

"Ooh, that sounds fun, can I try it?" Cathy asked.

"Sure, it's easy," Smudge replied, giving me a 'watch me beat the pants off her' wink.

Smudge put a coin in the machine and the two of them squared up. The game was short and bloody with Cathy winning 10 – nil. Smudge blamed beginners luck and there followed three more games with Cathy winning them all. Smudge slumped in his chair, deflated.

"Didn't I mention that my brother taught me how to play?" Cathy asked him sweetly.

"Funny, I don't think you did," Smudge muttered darkly. "Come on Chas, lets have a game."

The two of them walked off leaving me with Cathy. I sipped my drink, taking the opportunity to check young Cathy out. She looked stunning. She wore a maroon mini skirt, a white lacy blouse and matching tights, round blue tinted sun glasses and had a red feather boa around her neck. Her erect nipples were visible through her blouse, I couldn't see the outline of a bra.

"Penny for them," she interrupted my thoughts, jerking me back to reality.

"Sorry, what did you say?" I asked.

"I asked what you were thinking."

"I was thinking how gorgeous you looked and I was wondering whether you had a bra on," I told her, smiling.

Cathy's face flushed, answering my question.

"Do you think I'm being too naughty?" she asked, suddenly uncertain.

"Not from where I'm sitting," I told her.

"Hey you guys, room for another?" came the sweet sound of Cyn's voice.

Cyn had to be one of the foxiest birds in London. A slim, firm figure, legs that went on for ever and tits which made grown men weep. Add to that long natural blonde hair which stretched down her back to her backside and wickedly cute face and you had the finest package of womanhood anywhere, except for Cathy. I remember the first time I met Cyn when we were eleven.

"My name's Cynthia," she told me, "but if you ever call me that I'll tear your balls off."

I would have been shocked hearing an eleven year old say such a thing if I had understood what she meant. Nevertheless, I never called her Cynthia – something in her voice warned me off.

The queue at the Marquee was long, stretching around the block. We took our place contenting ourselves with watching the groovers walking by.

"Cop a load of them," Chas whispered to me.

Just behind us were the sharpest pair of birds I had seen for months. Mini skirts, tight blouses, cute faces and great tits – they were seriously foxy.

"Lets make a play for them when we get inside," I told Chas. "He grinned in agreement."

"Behave yourselves, you perverts," Cyn scolded us.

"Talking of perverts, what's a foxy bird like you doing with an ugly bastard like Smudge?" I asked her.

Cyn leaned forward and whispered in my ear. "You haven't seen his cock!"

There's something about a gig in a small club which is so much better than a large arena. The Marquee comprised of a single main room with a low ceiling. The stage was a platform about a foot tall at one end. There were no barriers to stop you going near the band, you could literally touch them if you wanted. The intimacy of the atmosphere was amazing – friends from the north told me that the Cavern club in Liverpool was just the same.

The club was packed and there was an atmosphere of anticipation. There was a drum kit and a handful of small amps on the stage. When a roadie threw a cable reel with some joss sticks taped to it onto the stage we knew things were about to kick off. After a couple of minutes the band walked onto the stage, plugged in and launched into their first number, "Hello Little Schoolgirl."

The sound of Keith Relf's harmonica and Jeff Beck's guitar were magical and we began to groove.

After half an hour Smudge and I headed to the bar for a coke when who should we see but the two foxy birds huddled in the corner.

"Shit, what a waste," Smudge sighed.

I had to agree as I saw they two girls kissing deeply, groping each other's tits.

I headed back to give Chas the bad news only to find him dancing with two birds. Well dancing is perhaps overstating it, cos Chas didn't dance. He sort of stood between the birds with a huge grin clicking his fingers to the beat. The birds were giving it some, obviously enjoying being with the guy – it looked like he was in for a nice threesome that night.

I also noticed Cathy dancing with a sharply dressed bloke.

"Do you know who the face is?" I asked Smudge.

"Yeah, its Pete Storey," he replied. "You know, the Walthamstowe Storeys, he's the youngest brother."

The Storey family were a well know villains and hard cases. The old man and the two eldest sons all had serious form for a wide range of naughtiness.

"So what's Pete's sideline?" I asked Smudge

"He's at art college with me," Smudge replied. "Pretty good artist but he can be a bit of a cunt. Deals in pills and other crap as a side line. Cathy needs to watch out."

I resolved to have a word with Cathy at the earliest opportunity and give her a "heads up" about the guy.

As luck will have it I didn't have a chance to see Cathy that week. I called in at the library the following Saturday after work only to discover that she hadn't been in work all that week. I called at her house that evening.

"She hasn't been home all week," he mother told me with marked indifference.

Cathy's home life had never been easy. Her parents were divorced and her mother had shacked up with a series of boyfriends, all of them losers. Cathy hadn't got on with her mother for many years and the presence of the boyfriends had aggravated the situation.

I was worried, very worried. Where the hell had she gone? Given Pete Storey's 'form' I was getting concerned that Cathy was in trouble. I contacted Chas and Smudge and we put the word around to all our contacts to keep an eye out for Cathy. I went out every evening to all our haunts to see if I could find Cathy, I even started walking the streets looking – but no sign of her. People told me not to worry, that Cathy was a sensible big girl who could look after herself but it didn't help.

---------------

After a month of no news I was at the end of my tether and decided that maybe I should have a word with Pete Storey. I caught the bus to the art college and with perfect timing saw Pete sat on a wall outside, smoking.

"Can I have a word?" I asked him.

"Do I know you?" he asked with a smirk.

"No but you know my friend Cathy," I replied, fighting to keep my temper.

He made a pretence of thinking before giving a broad grin.

"Cathy? No I don't think so."

"I saw you with her in the Marquee a couple of months ago," I told him.

"Nah, not me mate."

He was beginning to piss me off and I decided to take more direct action. I smacked him hard in the face with my fist. He gave a squawk of pain and blood jetted from his nose over his shirt. Then he burst into tears.

"Please don't hit me again," he blubbed.

"I won't if you tell me where Cathy is," I snapped back.

"I don't know," he whimpered.

"Do you want another smack?" I asked him.

"No, honestly, I don't know where she is. She left my flat a week ago and I haven't seen her since."

"Did you give her any of your pills?" I asked, dearly tempted to kick the shit out of him. 

"She's a big girl," he sobbed. "Yeah she had some uppers and downers and a few lines. But I tell you she was up for it, she's a real party girl who knows how to give a guy a good time."

"How do you mean?" I asked, suddenly suspicious.

"You know, she's a real goer."

"Do you mean you fucked her?"

"Yeah but not in her cunt. She gave head and took it up the arse. She loved every minute of it."

I felt a surge of anger, this didn't sound like Cathy.

"Listen you shit, you're within a hair's breadth of getting a kicking. You stay away from Cathy and if by any chance you find out where she is you'll let me know, got it?"

He nodded in pathetic acquiescence.

---------------

It was all very depressing. I was no nearer to finding Cathy and I really had no idea where to start. I went down to my local pub for a few quiet pints and to think. After a couple of hours I had made no progress other than beginning to get drunk. I decided to drag myself home and get to bed.

I noticed a black Jaguar by the curb as I approached my flat. Two large men got out the car as I drew up beside it.

"Bernie Stevens?" one of them asked.

I nodded only to be grabbed and bundled into the car.

"What the fuck!" I involuntarily gasped.

"Shut the fuck up," one of the men snarled.

We drove a couple of miles into London and pulled up outside a scrap yard. My escorts manhandled me into a portacabin. Inside were three men. Two who I recognised as being the Storey brothers were stood either side of a an older man sat at a desk. They all looked rock hard. 

"Do you know who I am?" the older man asked.

"No I don't although I recognise these two blokes," I replied pointing at the standing men.




Here Come The Nice



The two blokes in question, the senior Storey boys, were big and solid looking. Over six foot, classically dressed in Levis, white T shirts and leather jackets. You didn't argue with them, unless you were seriously stupid. They glared at me nastily.

"I'm Harry Storey. I understand you've been a little naughty with my son Peter. I heard you attacked him for no good reason."

I began to interrupt.

"Shut it," he snapped. "I ain't finished. "I hate cowards who take liberties. You need a little lesson."

I guessed I was in for a nasty time and to be honest I was shitting myself. If I was going to get a spanking I decided I might as well put my side of the story.

"I don't know what Pete has told you but I would like to tell you my side before you do what you plan."

He nodded. "Go on."

I gave him the whole story. His eyes narrowed when I described my encounter with Peter.

"Hmmm, sounds like bollocks to me," he muttered once I had finished.

"Peter, come in here!" he called out.

Peter Storey came into the room.

"This bloke says he hit you fair and square, is that right?"

"No dad, he jumped me," Peter replied.

"Listen, Mr Storey, I know you think I deserve a lesson, why don't you let Peter do it?" I asked. "If I jumped him like he said then he'll welcome the chance to get even, face to face."

Old man Storey thought for a moment.

"Fair enough, Peter you sort it out."

Peter's face went pale and he backed away from me. I followed him.

"Go on Pete, hit me," I goaded him.

His hands stayed by his sides, he looked at me in fear.

"Pete, I'm going to slap you, are you going to stop me?" I asked him.

He looked at me fearfully and then I gave him a gentle slap on the face. He whimpered and staggered back.

"Please don't hurt me," he begged.

I turned way from Peter towards his Dad. "Sorry Mr Storey but your boy is a coward and a girl's blouse, he made up the whole story of me jumping him."

Mr Storey looked at his son with contempt.

"Do you know this girl Cathy?" he asked.

Pete nodded.

"And did you give her drugs?"

Again Pete nodded."

"Get yourself home, I'll see you later," his father snapped.

Peter crept from the room like a whipped dog.

"Sit down," Mr Storey told me. He pulled a bottle of scotch from the drawer and filled four glasses.

"Sorry about that. My boy is going to need a lesson, I hate drugs, it's a load of shit that does no good. Right, now tell me about this girl Cathy."

----------------

I was taken back to my flat in the same car, although this time accompanied by the to Storey brothers. Their attitude was a great deal friendlier and they were apologetic about their brother's behaviour.

"Don't worry, we'll put the word around. If Cathy is alive in London we'll find her," they told me.

For the next couple of days I immersed myself in work, trying not to worry about Cathy. On the Friday evening I was just settling down to watch a little TV when the door bell rang.

It was the Storey brothers and they had Cathy with them. When she saw me Cathy gave a cry and threw herself into my arms.

"Thanks guys," I told her escort. "I really appreciate you finding her."

"Our pleasure mate," Gary Storey told me. "She's in a bad way, she needs you."

Charlie Storey grinned and gave me a business card.

"Give us a bell if you need us."

I choked up that these guys could care so much and gave them a grin of thanks.

They were right, Cathy was in a state. Her face was dirty, her hair matted and her clothes tattered. She buried her face into my shoulder and sobbed. I contented myself with comforting her until her sobs subsided.

"Oh Bernie, I'm so relieved to see you," she finally gasped. "I thought those men were going to hurt me.

"No they're friends," I told her.

"Who are they?" she asked.

"Peter Storey's brothers."

Cathy gave a gasp. "You call them friends after what he did to me?"

"They know what Peter did and they weren't happy about it." I told her. "I told them about him giving you drugs and having sex with you."

"Oh Bernie you don't the half of it," she gasped, sitting down on the couch. Her eyes welled with fresh tears. "I was raped by Pete and his friends."

"They really hurt me," she gasped as though her heart was breaking. "There was ten of them. They took it in turns to rape my bum. They tore me until I was bleeding and when they finished they made me lick them clean. Do you know what it's like to taste your own shit?"

It tore me apart to see Cathy, that normally confident, bright girl, broken.

"You said ten?"

"Pete decided to have a little dinner party for his friends, I was the after dinner entertainment. When they were finished they made me get dressed and they threw me out. The only reason why they didn't rape me in the usual way was that I was having my period and they didn't like the idea of getting covered in blood."

"Hmm, but they didn't mind getting shit on their cocks," I thought.

"When was it?" I asked.

"A week ago. Since then I've lived rough, begging for money."

"Why didn't you go home?" I asked.

"I did. My pig of a mother told me I deserved what I got and slammed the door in my face."

Her mother had been spoiling for a chance to kick Cathy out the house for a long time and her behaviour didn't surprise me at all.

The poor girl was a real mess to be honest, she smelled nasty.

"Ok, first things first, we need to get you feeling better," I told Cathy. "How does a hot bath sound like for starters?"

Cathy gave a broad smile.

"Oh Bernie that is an offer I can't refuse."

Cathy disappeared into the bathroom and I set about sorting things out. I put clean sheets on my bed, dug out some pyjamas and made a mug of strong coffee. I rang Alan, my boss at the shop, and explained what had happened. We had a great working relationship and he readily agreed that I could take a few days off to get things sorted.

When done I tapped on the bathroom door.

"I'll leave some pyjamas and a bathrobe outside the door," I shouted.

"No need, come in," Cathy called out.

The room was filled with steam and the strong smell of Dettol. Cathy lay back in the hot water with a smile of pleasure on her face." 

"I put some disinfectant in, my bum is more than a little sore," she told me.

I put the mug of coffee on the rim of the bath and sat down on the bathroom stool. I looked away, trying not to stare at the perfect breasts clearly visible above the water line. Her clothes were heaped on the floor, her panties on top. I could see the brown blood stains from where they had pressed against her bleeding rear. I felt tears fill my eyes when I thought of the pain she had suffered.

"I'm afraid my clothes are ruined," she whispered, noticing my gaze. Please don't look at my panties, I'm not proud of their condition. 

I turned to face her and she saw my tears.

"Oh Bernie, please don't, you'll start me off again."

"You know I'm a soft bugger when it comes to you," I told her.

Unconsciously my gaze slipped to her breasts. Her breasts were perfection with inch diameter brownish pink nipples. With a shock I pulled my gaze back to Cathy's face. She was looking at me with a small smile. Feeling like a kid caught with my hand in the biscuit tin, I blushed.

"It's alright," Cathy whispered. "I don't mind you looking at my breasts, after all, you've been trying to catch a peek at them since I was 12 when they started to grow."

"Did anyone tell you that you've got great tits?" I told her, trying to lighten the moment. "Well worth waiting for a peek."

"No, Bernie, you're the first. Thanks for the compliment."

Suddenly, I felt tongue tied. Here I was sat by one of my dearest friends and I really didn't know what to say. The enormity of her plight pressed down on me, somehow I had to tell her how I felt. She had been through so much but there were no words sufficient to tell her how sorry I was.

"Cathy..." I began, not knowing where I was going. "I want to tell you how sorry I am for..."

Cathy shook her head. She took my hand and pressed it against her naked breast.

"You don't need to tell me anything, I know. Out of all the world, you're the only person who worried about me and came looking for me. You're the person who's looking after me. You don't need to say a single word."

Tears were streaming down her face again but she wasn't crying.

"With you I feel safe. I didn't think twice about inviting you into the bathroom to see me naked and at my most vulnerable. I know you are the one person who would never, ever hurt me."

I had a huge lump in my throat and I felt my own tears welling. I didn't speak, I couldn't speak. I just nodded, acknowledging how humble her words made me feel.

We just sat, quietly feeling the moment.

"I think I'd better move," Cathy finally spoke. "My feet are getting all wrinkly."

"Are you hungry?" I asked.

Cathy nodded.

"Steak, chips and salad?" I added.

"Perfect, she sighed."

"OK, I'll get started and leave you to finish." I told her as I left. "There's antiseptic ointment and cotton wool in the cabinet if you need," 

----------------------

I had to smile at the sight of Cathy entering the room in my pyjamas. She had to roll the sleeves up so that they fit. She had requisitioned a pair of my football socks as substitutes for slippers and had tucked the legs of the pyjamas into them. She looked so cute!

"Come on girl, get your food," I told her as I poured her a large glass of red wine.

She winced as she sat down at the kitchen table.

"Still sore?" I asked her.

"Yes but not bleeding any more."

While she ate I raised an idea which has slowly formed in my mind.

"I think it would be a good idea if you spoke to Peter Story's father and tell him everything that happened. I think he'll want to deal with Peter himself."

Cathy pondered for a long moment before nodding in agreement.

I reached for the phone and dialled the number on the business card.

"Mr Storey?" I asked when the phone was answered. "It's Bernie Stevens could Cathy have a word with you for a moment?"

I handed the phone to Cathy.

"Tell Mr Storey everything," I told her.

Ten minutes later Cathy put down the phone.

"What did he say?" I asked

"He thanked me for the information and apologised for what happened. He told me that he would take care of things and that someone would be around to see me tomorrow morning at nine. From his tone I don't think Peter will enjoy what's coming to him."

I grinned, I guessed that Peter was in for a rough time. His dad might be a hard bastard but he had a strict code of ethics and rape didn't feature in it.

"Leave the plate and come and sit down," I told Cathy. She went into the living room and I opened a second bottle of wine.

"We're going to get pissed tonight," I told her. Cathy nodded in agreement.

I sat beside her and we sipped our wine, watching the pretend flames on my electric fire. After a while I asked the question which had been nagging me.

"How do you feel?" I finally asked.

"Now? I feel, warm and safe."

"I meant about the rape."

Cathy paused for a while, gathering her thoughts.

"Mostly anger. I was stoned during the rape so I don't feel traumatised as such. The rape hurt horribly but I'm so glad that I still have my virginity. The way I see it, I could dump their sperm with my pooh like the filth it was. It would have been different if it had gone in the other place. I'm not on the pill so god knows what would have happened."

"The worst part," she continued after taking a sip of wine, "was being on the streets. I felt so alone and frightened. It was tough trying to survive in the cold and wet but worse of all, I didn't feel safe. There were so many horrible people. I thought I might end up dead in the gutter."

"You know," I told her, "We're going to need to get you some clothes."

Cathy nodded.

"Hmm yes, my clothes are only fit for the dustbin. It was horrible not being able to change my clothes. I like to shower and change my clothes every day, particularly my panties. Some days I'll change them twice a day - I hate the feeling of dirty panties. It was horrible having to wear the same pair for a week, especially with the blood and muck from my bum."

Cathy put her hand on my arm.

"I'm so sorry you had to see me in such a dirty and smelly state, I hope you can forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive," I told her. "You had no control over things. Anyway, dirt washes off, you're the same person irrespective of whether you're clean or not."

"We'll go shopping tomorrow then," I told her. "As for other arrangements, you can stay here as long as you want. You're sleeping in my bed, I'll use the spare room."

"I can't take your bed," Cathy protested albeit half-heartedly,

I didn't reply, choosing to give a stern look of disapproval.

"OK," she sighed, "but I don't think I'll sleep tonight. I'm too strung out."

"Hmm, after two bottles of wine, we'll see," I thought.

"So tell me about Peter," I asked her.

"Well as you know I met him at the gig at the Marquee. He was really charming and for all his faults he looks and dresses really smart. He was so attentive and really was a perfect date. He really suckered me."

"He took me for a drive in the country in his sports car the next day with dinner in a really expensive restaurant in the evening. It was all perfect. The next few weeks it was a whirl of great parties. I had a great time and met all sorts of cool people."

"What about the drugs?" I asked.

"Well Peter asked me one evening if I would like a special kick and he gave me some pills. They were really cool and I had a fab trip on them. After that I tried different pills, smoked some joints and did a few lines of coke. It was so easy and I really didn't want to say no any more."

All these revelations hurt. I felt fiercely jealous that Pete had given Cathy such a good time. I had known her for years and had never even had a date.

-------------------------

I awoke the next morning to the sound of the shower. After a while Cathy came out of the bathroom wearing just a towel around her body.

"Do you have anything I can wear?" she asked.

"Help yourself to anything that fits you," I told her.

I went into the bathroom to shower and shave. When I returned to the bedroom Cathy was wearing a white T shirt, a pair of white sports socks and a pair of my underpants. Luckily I preferred to wear stretchy slips rather than old fashioned Y fronts and my pants fitted her perfectly.

"Oh sorry..." I began and started to leave the room.

"Don't be silly," Cathy retorted, you've already seen my boobs now you can see my bum. Big deal!" 

"Oh, by the way, I like your pants," she added with a grin.

"I always thought it was the guy's objective to get inside a girl's pants, not the other way round," I retorted.

Cathy stuck her tongue out at me. "This isn't any girl and don't you forget it!"

In spite of our normal banter, I could see that Cathy was struggling to stay cheerful. Her normal vivaciousness was missing.

Cathy found a pair of my jeans, a loose sweater and a pair of tennis shoes to finish her wardrobe. The shoes were a little large but tolerable.

We were enjoying a breakfast of coffee and toast when, promptly at nine, the front door bell rang. It was Mr Storey and his three sons. Pete looked uncomfortable as I glared at him before inviting them in. He looked both frightened and tired and was wearing jeans and a jacket rather than his normal flash suit. I noticed one or two bruises on his face. I introduced our visitors to Cathy and fetched coffee.

"First of all, I want to apologise for my family," Mr Storey began. "My boy's behaviour was out of order. Peter, you have something to say, don't you?"

Peter blanched.

"Yes, I'm really sorry for what I did to you," he told Cathy in a subdued voice.

"Ok now go and wait in the car."

Peter left my flat like a whipped dog.

"Now I can understand how you want justice," Mr Storey continued, "but I want you to leave things in my hands. I have dealt with Peter and I will deal with his friends. I know who they are. Peter is still my son, however, and I will not allow any police action to be taken against him, do you understand." There was a steeliness to his voice which suggested that his position was non-negotiable."

Cathy met Mr Storey's eyes defiantly.

"Your son and his friends hurt me a great deal. They took it in turns to use my body. They buggered me until I bled and then made me lick my own filth off them. I want them to suffer pain and humiliation. I'm not normally vindictive but they need to understand that they can't go around using people. If you promise to do that then I won't contact the police."

Mr Storey nodded and took her hand in his.

"Want they did was disgusting and I'm ashamed that not only did my boy take part but that he organised it. Both his mother and I have dealt with him. You'll understand if I tell you that his bruises were given by his mother. I also see you mean what you say and I respect that. Peter has already been dealt with and my boys will be visiting the others over the next couple of days. Be assured, it won't be pleasant." Gary and Charlie both nodded and grinned at Cathy. She nodded back understanding that they would not be gentle.

"That's a deal then," Cathy replied shaking Mr Storey's hand. "Just make sure that it's done."

I felt a stab of concern that Cathy was threatening Mr Storey, but I needn't have worried. Mr Storey smiled.

"Have no fears on that account," he replied, dryly. "I'm a man of my word."

Our visitors drank their coffee and left.

Mr Storey gave Cathy a hug and a kiss on the cheek as he left the door. "If you need any help at any time, just give me a bell. I have a daughter your age and I couldn't bear to have something like this happen to her."

To my surprise I saw a tear in his eye. To see Harry Storey, one of North London's hardest bad boys, showing emotion was quite a revelation.

------------------------

"Are you happy with how that turned out?" I asked as we settled down on the couch

"Yes. Mr Storey is an old softie really but I think his sons will deal with things well."

"The first job today is to sort you out some new clothes," I suggested.

Cathy's face lit up for a moment.

"Yes please, but I don't have any money."

"No problem," I told her. "I'll look after that, you just get yourself some nice gear."

Cathy gave me a long hug. "Thanks Bernie," she whispered. "Just hang on a moment, I need the bathroom."

I started to put on my shoes when I heard what sounded like a whimper of pain from the bathroom. I tapped on the door. "Are you alright?" I asked. Cathy was quietly sobbing.

"Come in Bernie," she asked.

Cathy was stood by the sink holding a blood stained face cloth against her rear.

"Oh Bernie, I went for a pooh and my bum tore open again. When I was on the street the lack of food and the after effects of my rape made me constipated. The food last night must have kicked my system in and I just did a really big pooh. It really hurts," she sobbed.

"OK, I'm taking you to the hospital," I told her, and went to ring a taxi.

Unlike the health system today, we didn't have to wait for hours to see a doctor at the hospital. Within 15 minutes a nurse called Cathy to a cubicle. A middle aged doctor met us there.

"Please go to the waiting room, Mr Stevens," the doctor told me, "I need to examine Cathy."

Cathy interrupted as I began to leave.

"I want Bernie to stay."

The doctor gave a shrug of surprise and asked Cathy to take off her jeans and panties. I looked away.

"Have you reported the rape to the police?" the doctor asked.

"No, I don't want to," Cathy replied.

Again the doctor shrugged his shoulders and began to examine Cathy's injuries. Cathy blushed and gripped my hand tightly as the doctor studied her bleeding rear.




Here Come The Nice



"You have a nasty tear to your anal sphincter which needs a stitch or two," the doctor told her. "I will also give you an injection of penicillin to deal with any likely infections."

Cathy winced as the doctor injected local anaesthetic into her tender rear and gave two injections in her butt cheeks.

"The nurse will stitch you," he told Cathy in a cold voice. As he left he turned to Cathy. "You girls bring all this upon yourselves. You wear these mini skirts and are sexually promiscuous and then wonder why it is you get raped."

Cathy stared at his retreating back in shock. Here eyes filled this tears of anger.

"That bastard!" she hissed, "Who the hell is he to judge me? I didn't deserve what happened to me."

I followed the doctor out.

"Excuse me doctor may I have a word?" I asked him.

Turned and gave an impatient sigh.

"You are not entitled to pass judgement of my friend and I would appreciate it if you keep your opinions to yourself, or would you prefer it if I report you to the hospital authority and the General Medical Council," I told him in the coldest voice I could muster.

"Don't speak to me like that," he snarled.

"Fine, then I'll report your misconduct, if you prefer. Dr Milligan," I made a point of looking carefully at his name tag. "I'm sure you will be appropriately disciplined."

The doctor hesitated, realising that I was calling his bluff.

"May I suggest you apologise to my friend," I added.

With a scowl he returned to the cubicle and reluctantly apologised before storming off. 

The nurse grinned at Cathy. "No one likes Dr Milligan," she said. "That old fool has it in for all young women. Personally I think he's a poof. Now, roll onto your stomach and I'll sort you out."

Cathy was allowed to dress. A nurse brought Cathy a tube of ointment and a white box.

"Try to keep the area dry. Wipe it with a clean damp cloth and apply this cream three times a day. Also use one glycerine suppository 20 minutes before you need a bowel movement."

Cathy looked at the nurse bemused.

The nurse smiled. "Push one suppository into your bottom. It will melt with your body heat and soften your bowel movement. Your pooh should then slide out without hurting."

By now Cathy's face was bright scarlet with embarrassment, but she nodded with comprehension."

"I've also got you some gauze squares. Fold them into pads and slip them between your bum cheeks, it'll cushion you when you sit down and stop your panties rubbing. You'll need to come back in two weeks to have the stitches removed."

----------------

I wasn't in the habit of going shopping with women but I have to say it was an enjoyable experience. Cathy insisted getting my approval of every item, including underwear. From the look on the face of the assistant in the boutique, they weren't used to customers taking their blokes into the changing room with them. The retail therapy had an unexpected benefit in that Cathy's mood lightened .

In spite of her upbeat mood, I could see a change in Cathy. Rather than pick mini skirts and see through tops, she bought jeans, T shirts and sweaters. She chose nice lacy bras but her panties were plain and modest. 

After 3 hours I was loaded down by a heap of bags and my wallet was £100 lighter.

After lunch we settled down in the lounge and put on some sounds. Within minutes the door bell rang. It was Charlie Storey and a oldish woman. Charlie was carrying a slim briefcase.

"Hello again, Bernie," Charlie spoke with his gravely voice. "My mum would like a word with Cathy if that's alright." 

Mrs Storey held out her hand to me.

"I've heard all about you Bernie," she smiled as we shook hands.

Mrs Storey was a small, thin, elegantly dressed grey haired woman. It seemed amazing that such a small woman could have given birth to a huge man like Charlie.

I let the two of them in to the lounge.

Mrs Storey gave Cathy a long, hug.

"I'm so sorry for what my boy did," she began.

We sat down and I poured coffee.

"Harry has told me everything and I want to help."

Cathy looked perplexed.

"I understand that you are now homeless," Mrs Storey continued.

"Yes, but Cathy will be staying here as long as she needs," I interrupted.

"I appreciate that," Mrs Storey continued, "but Cathy needs to think to the future. I want to help you get your own place to live as a small way of apologising for what my family has done to you."

"There's no need..." Cathy began.

"Yes there is," Mrs Storey cut in, a little sharply.

I had to smile, this woman was one tough cookie.

Charlie saw my expression and smiled.

"You don't argue with mum," he told Cathy.

Mrs Storey put the brief case on the table and opened it. The case was full of cash. The vision of dodgy geezers in a movie completing a drugs deal flashed across my mind. Why was the cash always carried in a slim briefcase?

"This isn't an attempt to buy you off, no money can make up for the hurt that you have experienced," Mrs Storey told Cathy. "This is my money. There's enough here for you to buy and furnish a house of your own. Take it with my apologies."

Cathy sighed.

"You don't need to do this, Mrs Story, but I'm grateful for your very kind thought."

"Good," Mrs Storey replied, standing to leave, "you're showing good sense."

She gave Cathy another hug and our visitors left.

Cathy sat down with a look of amazement. She quickly checked the contents of the briefcase.

"Bernie, there's £15000 here, more than enough to buy a house!" she told me in shocked whisper.

-----------------------------

I didn't sleep well that night. Unwelcome thoughts began to enter my mind. Even though Cathy was prepared to allow the Storey's deal with matters I felt angry, very angry. The thought of what those guys had done filled me with fury. I wanted to take my own vengeance. Slowly through the long night the thoughts became stronger. I wanted to hurt those guys - smash their kneecaps, cut their faces and break their bones. I want to crush their balls so they would never fuck again. But this wasn't my fight – it was Cathy's decision and she had made it. But what if it was the wrong decision and she had doubts? I gave up all pretence of trying to sleep and spent hours pacing the room. My mood darkened and I felt a deep depression start to take hold.

What was more worrying, I began to get angry with Cathy. How could she be so stupid? Going out with an obvious loser like Pete and then letting herself get gang raped? For fucks sake what was she thinking? The stupid cow must have deserved what she got.

It was obvious I was getting irrational but I just felt overwhelmed with rage.

Around 9:30 in the morning I was sat drinking coffee in the kitchen, my mind seething with anger, when Cathy walked in.

"Hiya Bernie, sleep well?" she asked in a cheerful voice.

It took all my self control to reply with a grunt that I was OK. If she noticed anything, Cathy didn't let on as she made herself breakfast. She sat at the table and chattered on about inconsequential things while she ate. Her chattering only served to irritate me and I felt my temper getting frayed. I knew I had to do something before I exploded. Without a word I left the kitchen.

I realised that I had been so bound up in coping with all the developments that I hadn't let the gang know that Cathy was back. Cyn was Cathy's closest friend, I needed to talk to her. I picked up the phone.

"Hello," came Cyn's sleepy voice.

"Cyn, it's Bernie."

"Bloody hell Bern, do you know what time it is?"

"Yeah, sorry babe. I really need to speak to you face to face," I told her. "It's urgent."

"Come round then," she told me.

"Can we meet in the park? I don't want Smudge to hear."

"Alright," she sighed. "See you in half an hour."

I put on my shoes and jacket. Cathy came out of the kitchen.

"What's wrong? What have I done?" she asked. "Where are you going?"

Not trusting myself or my anger I glared at her before leaving, slamming the door behind me.

Cyn turned up on time, dressed in scruffy jeans and a sweater and looking half asleep.

"So, has there been any news?" Cyn asked.

"Yup, you must be psychic, she's been found," I announced.

Cyn gave a squeal of delight. "Tell me everything."

I did, watching tears fill her eyes as she heard the sordid details. Cyn and Cathy were the closest of friends and I could see the pain in Cyn's eyes. Recounting the story along with my mood had the same effect on me.

"Oh fuck, how horrible," Cyn gasped once I had finished. " 

Cyn saw my tear streaked cheeks.

"Shit Bernie, what is it?"

With a faltering voice I explained my fears, anger and doubts. "I need to know what Cathy is really feeling. Is she content to let things lie? Is my desire for revenge justified? I don't understand why I'm so angry with her."

Cyn nodded, paused and looked at me. Her blue eyes were piercing.

"Of course!" she hissed with a smile. "You've got a thing about Cathy haven't you? Come to think of it, you have for a long time."

I blushed. In a split second Cyn had crystallised what I had known for years but had been afraid to confront.

Yes but she has no idea," I told her. "I'm afraid, I don't want to spoil a great friendship."

"Why are men such fucking arseholes," she muttered. "Well it looks like Cathy needs the support of a close kindred spirit. You've done a good job so far but it needs the touch of an expert."

She handed me her house key.

"Clear off to my place and don't come home until I phone you."

----------

I let myself into Cyn's flat and went into the kitchen to make coffee.

"Come back to bed babe," I heard Smudge's voice from the hall. "I fancy a cuddle."

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he asked sticking his head around the doorway.

"Get decent and I'll tell you over a coffee," I told him.

"Shit, that is seriously crap," Smudge groaned after I had finished bringing him up to date. "Want me to phone Chas so we can go and give those guys a spanking?"

"I want to but I don't want to piss off Cathy," I replied. "This is her call."

"OK, but I'm calling Chas anyway."

Chas came around the house in record time.

"Right, the pubs just opened, first round is on Smudge," he announced.

The pub was still quiet as we settled down to our pints. I wasn't really in the mood to go through the issue again so Smudge brought Chas up to date. I could see a positively evil look fill his eyes as her heard how Cathy had been treated.

For the next couple of hours my mates plied me with booze. If they had intended it to help me, they failed. As I became more and more drunk, my anger became deeper, I became deeply morose. Matters took a turn when Phil, a good friend of ours, brushed past me, spilling a few drops of my drink. Normally it wouldn't have been an issue but I felt my rage explode and I turned on him.

"You bastard," I shouted and punched him in the mouth.

Phil was a gentle, decent guy and he staggered back in shock, not even retaliating. I lunged forward to hit him again but Chas grabbed me, his strength subduing me like a baby.

"Enough Bernie," came a shout from Big Eric, the landlord. "Get him out Chas, he's barred."

I was dragged spitting and snarling back to the house. I think I was pretty close to insanity at that moment. I felt nothing but an uncontrollable, unreasoning rage. I wanted to hurt everyone and anyone.

Back at the house the guys fed me with Polish vodka until I passed out.

------------------

"Wake up Bernie!"

I groaned, my head throbbing with pain. Someone was shaking my shoulder.

"Fuck off," I muttered and rolled over, trying to go back to sleep.

"No you don't," came Cyn's angry voice. "Get up NOW!"

"What is it?" I asked as I slowly sat up.

"It's a shame you didn't give me the full picture yesterday," Cyn snapped.

"Are you angry?" I asked stupidly.

"Bloody right I am. Remember what I told you when we first met at school? Well I'm trying to think of a good reason why I shouldn't tear your balls off now."

"OK, what have I done," this was pissing me off.

"You didn't say that you left Cathy in tears yesterday. She said that you walked out without talking to her. She doesn't know what she's done wrong."

"Yeah well maybe if she sat down and thought for a moment, she would work it out," I muttered.

"What does that mean?" Cyn demanded.

I explained my anger with Cathy and how I had to leave before I had said or done something nasty to her.

"If she can't figure that out then she's dumber than I thought."

"So instead you took it out on Phil in the pub," Cyn snarled, unimpressed. "Just stop and listen to yourself for a moment. You weren't the person who was raped! What right have you got to be angry with Cathy. Now listen to me, you fuck-up."

"I spent the whole of last night talking to Cathy. Up to yesterday she was getting along well. She was content that Mr Storey was taking care of things and she was beginning to get her head together. Your behaviour yesterday pretty well destroyed all the good work. You made her think that you no longer liked her because of the rape. She thinks she's damaged goods and no use to anyone now. You were doing so well but in one act of stupidity you blew it. Just because you didn't have the balls to talk to her and tell her how you felt."

I bowed my head in shame. I knew I was acting like a total tosser.

"You know this isn't about you, it's about Cathy," Cyn wasn't letting things go. "It wasn't you who had your arse torn open, it wasn't you who had ten guys violate you, it isn't you who feels used and worthless. Now stop this me, me, me thing and think about Cathy for a change. "

Cyn paused to take breath, her face puce with emotion.

"Well you have to clear up this mess you've made. I'm going back to the flat to be with Cathy. You WILL come across today and explain yourself to her. If you don't come to the flat by three this afternoon then forget it but you'll have lost all the good friends you ever had, because I won't have anything more to do with you. I suggest you do some serious thinking and decide where your priorities and loyalties lie! NOW GROW UP AND GET YOUR MIND IN GEAR!"

I made myself a coffee, popped a couple of aspirins and sat down to think. It wasn't easy with my hangover and a multitude of thoughts running through my mind. I was also scared. I was scared to tell Cathy how I felt. Scared that she would tell me to piss off. Scared of losing my friends.

---------------

I looked at the clock and saw in was two in the afternoon. The time had flown past and I still hadn't worked out what to say. I knew that if I didn't make a move soon that I would lose Cathy so with a groan I dragged myself off the couch.

"Oh so you finally decided to be a man," Cyn coldly said as she let me into my flat.

Cathy was sat on the couch, red eyed and looking miserable. She looked at me impassively, not even raising a smile.

"I'll be in the kitchen," Cyn told Cathy with a smile.

"Do you mind if I sit down?" I asked Cathy.

She shrugged indifferently.

I sat down beside her. Now that the moment had come, my mind went blank. Any explanations and justifications I might have prepared vanished from my mind. I had to say something so I said the first thing that entered my mind.

"Cathy, I love you," I whispered, my voice cracking.

If I had expected Cathy to melt into my arms, I was wrong. She looked at me with a sad indifference.

"Listen, I was wrong to behave the way I did yesterday and I'm sorry," I continued, hoping to illicit some measure of understanding or acceptance. "I was angry and confused but I should have explained. I've loved you for years and what's happened to you makes no difference to me. You're the same girl as far as I'm concerned. Please give me a chance to look after you and show how much I care."

My anger had evaporated only to be replaced by self pity, tears streaming down my cheeks, I looked at Cathy silently begging her to smile and say that everything was OK. She didn't. She looked at me for a minute or two before finally speaking in a subdued voice.

"Bernie, I don't know who I can trust any more. I know you've done more than anyone for me, but you hurt me yesterday because you would talk to me and tell me what was wrong. It was like having my best friend stab me in the back. I hear what you say but I need to think about it."

I nodded in acceptance. I had no choice, this wasn't going to be an easy matter to resolve.

"Do you want to continue to stay here with me?" I asked.

Cathy paused.

"Yes, please," she replied.

"Want some coffee?" Cyn called out from the kitchen.

Taking the opportunity I left the room.

"Well?" Cyn asked.

I told her what I had said and Cathy's reaction.

Cyn's face softened.

"Ah common sense at last, OK you clear off and sort out the problems at the pub and leave the rest to me. Don't come back until later this evening."

---------------------

The pub didn't open until 7 on a Sunday evening but I knew that Big Eric lived on the premises so I headed down and knocked on the side door.

"I ain't happy with you," Eric growled as he opened the door.

Eric was a big man, both tall and muscular. He had been in the army, a commando and had bought the pub when he had been discharged. He was a hard man but fair.

"I know Eric, I want to apologise, can I explain?"

He let me in and poured me a pint. I explained as much of the saga as Eric needed to know.

"Bloody hell, " he growled when I finished. "It doesn't excuse what you did but it explains a lot. The Storey family are tough nuts but they're fair. Old man Story will do what's right. And I'll lift the ban provided you apologise to Phil and he's happy for you to come to the pub."

I felt seriously guilty when I saw the bruise on Phil's face. To his credit he let me into his house and heard me out. Even more to his credit, he was happy to accept my apology although I did have to agree to buy him a pint every time I saw him for the next three months.

Whether my issues with Cathy would be resolved so readily was another matter. Somehow I doubted that they would.

I felt weary and drained and needed to think. When I look back on those times, I realised that I behaved like a total dick-head. Everything was about how I felt, not Cathy. I wallowed in self-pity as I aimlessly walked. It began to rain heavily but I didn't notice. Finally I found myself back at my flat and rang the door bell.

"You look like a drowned rat," Cyn exclaimed when she saw me. "What have you been doing?"

I shook my head. "Nothing," I replied, not wanting to discuss it.

Cathy was sat on the living room couch, sipping a mug of coffee.

I went into the spare room, stripped off my wet clothes, slipped into some shorts and laid down. I was asleep in seconds.

------------------

I got up early the next morning and went to work – I needed to get back to some form of normality. Cyn, bless her cotton socks, took over looking after Cathy. Her work as a photographic model was reasonably easy to reschedule so she could free up time. Cathy was always polite with me but had a certain remoteness. I was careful to be kind and avoided saying anything controversial. I just wanted Cathy to be my friend again.

After three weeks of a strained existence, Cyn announced that Cathy had bought a flat and she moved out a couple of days later. She moved during the day when I was at work and I returned that night to an empty flat. There was a note on the table.

Dear Bernie

First of all I want to thank you for all you've done for me, you couldn't have been a better friend to me. Things haven't been easy and I now need to have my own space to I can decide where my life is going. I know how you feel about me and Cyn has said a lot to me. I really don't know if I share your feelings at the moment, maybe one day I will. A lot has been said and done and I really don't know if the clock can be turned back. I'm sorry I can't say more than that.




Here Comes The Bride



I heard her giggle over the hubbub of the party. A melodious giggle. So sexy, so provocative. It just made me smile each time I heard it. I looked across at her. She was radiant in her bridal gown. The twinkle in her eyes and that rich ruby mouth. It wasn't the first time that I'd imagined those ruby lips of hers slowly enveloping my thick cock!

Silently I chastised myself. She's a married woman now! Married to my best mate too! The lucky bastard!! Oh boy! Those curves! Now concealed beneath her ivory wedding gown! The erotic thought of what she was wearing beneath flickered across my mind! White stockings? A little garter of blue? Virginal white panties and a bra full of her buxom delights? Oh yes! The bride was a very desirable lass indeed!

The groom caught my eye just then. His voice loud and slurred. He'd drunk too much. Everyone was buying him drinks by way of congratulations. Too many. I'd tried to tell him but to no avail. He was well pissed by now. And on his wedding night too! When he first asked me to be his best man I knew he'd be like this!

Shaking my head I wandered over to the bar again to order another pint of cider. I stayed at the bar in conversation with some of the guests and the barman. When I turned around again to see the lovely bride to party was coming to an end. Several guests had bade their farewells and left. The bride was there trying to get her new husband to his feet. Unsuccessfully. He was a good deal heavier than she. Placing my nearly finished pint on the bar I strode across the reception room to help. Together we managed to get him standing. "Stan", she spoke softly, "Can you help me get him up to the bridal suite?"

I nodded. "Of course sweetheart."

Half-guiding, half-dragging we aimed him towards the doorway and towards the lifts. He mumbled summat.... summat incoherent. I mumbled summat back. Holding a conversation with a drunk is kinda awkward. The lift-doors opened and we somehow managed to get him inside, his arm around my shoulders, my arm around his back. Releasing him for a moment she pressed the button for her floor and the doors hissed shut. A little lurch as the lift began to move upwards.

The door opened with a hiss. Once more we wrestled with his inertia and propelled him out of the lift and towards the bridal suite. God! This is difficult! Eventually we arrived at the door. But where's the key?

The bride released him for a second, his full weight against me. I had to push his bulk against the wall to avoid falling in an untidy heap with him there in the corridor. Quickly she lifted the hem of her wedding gown to get the key from it's secure hiding place in her garter. A glimpse of those silken-sheathed legs nearly took my breath away. All too briefly, that vision of loveliness was gone as she released her gown and leaned forward to unlock the door. She pushed the door open and helped me get the inebriated groom inside. We staggered over to the bed and unceremoniously dumped our sozzled payload onto the bed. A sigh of relief from the two of us. I had no idea that my buddy weighed so much!!

Together we swung his legs onto the king-size bridal-bed. He was unconscious to the world. Totally past it and on his wedding night too!

I readjusted my shirt and tie and bade my leave. I had an unfinished pint downstairs in the bar and, after a quick glance at my watch, I really ought to find my own room in the hotel.

A made my way across the room towards the door but she caught my arm as my hand reached for the handle. "Aren't you gonna kiss the bride one last time, Stan?", she asked. With that she was in my arms, her soft, voluptuous curves pressed against my chest. Her full lips sought mine hungrily. A kiss so soft and yet with a passion that surprised me. My fingers caressed her buttocks as hers played with my hair. Her lips so warm, so insistent. Her veil gently tickling my face as I once more caught a scent of her perfume. A moment that I'd wished for..... for such a long time.

My fingers caressed her soft, curvaceous body through the gossamer thin silk. The fullness of her hips, her slender waist. Wicked thoughts thundered through my mind like wild mustangs as she stroked my bearded cheeks, her curves pressed against my chest.

My fingers moved higher tracing the delicate curve of her spine until my finger-tips touched the zipper of her bridal gown. I give it a little tug downwards expecting her to pull away from me to remind me that she was now married. But that rebuff never came and, as I pulled the zipper further down, her lips became more insistent, her fingers playing with my hair. Further still, until the zipper stopped.... where her generous hips flared.

The neckline of her gown slipped a little to reveal her collarbones. My lips nuzzled there... kissing her.... awakening her passion still further. My cock awakened too, twitching within the confines of my trousers as a vision of what she would look like naked flickered across my thoughts.

The groom shifted his position on the bed and mumbled incoherently. We both glanced at him just to ensure he was alright. "I don't think your wedding night will be much to write home about", I said to her in almost a whisper. She turned back towards me putting her arms once more on my hips and nibbling on my ear-lobe. She giggled, "I'm sure that my wedding night will be quite memorable, Stan. But my husband's won't be!"

Right then.... right at that moment.... I knew that she wanted me. As much as I wanted her. My hands trembled with anticipation as my fingers teased the silk down her shoulders. Revealing her smooth pale skin as it slipped down her slender arms. Her full breasts nestling in her lacy bra, her tummy rippling a little as she shrugged the gown further down. A lacy suspender-belt and her tiny panties. She giggled as she stepped out of her gown revealing her long legs sheathed in silk stockings. She stepped towards me once more, nearly naked but, before my greedy fingers could wander over her warm flesh, she grasped my jacket, slipping off my shoulders and down my arms, discarding it upon the floor. Her urgent fingers pulled at the front of my shirt pulling it undone, tearing the nylon in her haste. Her slender fingers toyed with my chest hair as her lips kissed mine with a passionate fire, her teeth nipping my bottom lip.

My fingers slid behind her to clumsily fight with her bra-clasp, pulling the two parts apart and quickly I slipped the little straps from her shoulders, eager to see her fantastic tits. Those tits that have been the inspiration of many a wet dream. As the lacy cups fell away from their luscious cargo my jaw dropped. Oh God! They were fantastic. Full. Round. Firm. Perfect. Her nipples already stiffening as I stood. I just stood there for a moment and then leapt forward to catch her loveliness in my greedy hands. Lowering my face I kissed her breasts. First one, then the other. My beard tickling her soft skin. My tongue flicked across her nipples, teasing them, making them stiffen further. Her arms snaked around my hairy shoulders drawing my into her embrace. 

I took her sweet nipple into my warm mouth and sucked gently, feeling her sensitive skin tighten with desire as I sucked. She arched her back, feeding her gorgeous tits into my willing face. Her fingers grasped my thickening cock through the material of my trousers. She squeezed me, feeling how thick I'd become before her fingers began tugging at my trouser-belt.

She giggled again, her fingers now pushing me further back into the room, guiding me as she pushed. I felt the edge of the bed against the back of my knees. Her lips brushed against mine as, with a final little shove she pushed me back to sit upon the bed next to her husband's ankles.

Her fingers tugged my trousers open and expertly dragged down the zipper of my flies. I caught the naughty twinkle in her eye as her fingers delved inside my underwear to grasp my thick shaft. Her fingers stroking my stiff cock, slowly sliding my foreskin down to reveal my shiny purple helmet. She knelt on the floor between my feet and, as her slender fingers stroked my manhood, her full red lips kissed the hairy flesh of my upper thighs.

I leaned back, supporting my weight with my outstretched hands as each sweet contact of her lips touched closer to my engorged cock. A pause as she gripped my shaft around the base and then her sweet lips kissed the very tip of my cock. Again. And then her small pink tongue flicked against my cock.

I groaned with pleasure at the touch of her velvet tongue. My balls twitched with anticipation. Her tongue felt exquisite against my horny cock and a little tear of pre-cum oozed from my little Jap's-eye. Then, as I watched, her sweet lips devoured my cock, sliding more of my shaft into her greedy mouth until almost all of my length. Oh God! This was heaven! The way her tongue still swirled against my shaft as she took it so deeply. I felt her fulsome breasts nudging against my hairy knees as she slowly sucked on my horny prick. Slowly she raised her head until just the tip penetrated her warm mouth, her teeth gently nibbling my helmet before, once more, she took my thick cock deep. Oh God! She's so good at this!!

Just then the groom coughed, a small amount of spittle dribbled down his chin. With concern his bride slipped my stiff erection from her sweet mouth and stood up to lean over him to check that he was alright. I watched as she knelt upon the edge of the bed and dabbed at his chin with an hankie. Her full hips gleamed in the light from the bedside lamp and her gorgeous, full tits swayed beneath her.

My angry erection jutted insistently from my groin as I watched her sexy body. Without hesitation I stood up, positioning myself behind her round buttocks. My fingers gently pulled the gusset of her tiny white panties to one side to reveal her pussy. Moist. Warm. Glistening with moisture in the light. Guiding my erection with my other hand I nudged my angry helmet against those sweet lips, feeling the erotic heat. She turned her head towards me, a wickedly naughty expression on her face.

"Come on then Stan", she beckoned, "Fuck my horny pussy!" I needed no further encouragement. I just pushed with my hips and my cock slid deep inside her. So deep my balls brushed against her warm body. We both gasped with pleasure as my cock reached inside her. I paused.... feeling her heat engulf my cock, my hands reaching beneath her to squueze her gorgeous tits, cupping them in the palms of my hands and giving them an intimate squeeze. I kissed her spine tenderly as her little muscles squeezed my horny cock. I smiled, beginning to fuck her hot cunt.

Slowly and deliberately. Sliding deep each time and withdrawing until just the tip of my cock caressed her intimate pink, before sliding deep into her heat once more. Again. And, as I fucked her, she began to kiss her husband on the unconscious lips. My fingers found her nipples, hard and erect, teasing them further as my thrusting increased in speed making her ripe tits jiggle beneath her willing body. Faster still.... my hands quickly moving to grip her lovely hips, pulling her hot snatch back onto each jab of my hips. Her pussy was so hot, so wet! Squeezing my cock so delightfully as the speed of my thrusts increased. My belly slapping rhythmically against her white buttocks

She stopped kissing her husband and began to pant. I was reaching my climax too. I watched her face, her head turned to one side, nestling her ear against her husband's throat. Her voice a hoarse whisper, "Fuck me! Fuck me harder!"

I needed no second bidding. Slamming my thick shaft deep inside faster. I felt my balls twitch as I fucked her hard and fast! Her intimate cries so loud as my thigh muscles tightened! Arghghh! Fuck! My thick spunk jetting into her hot cunt! Arghghh!! Her clenching muscles squeezing me erratically as she came on my thrusting shaft! Arghghhgh!! Faster! Harder! Shooting my spunk deep inside the horny bride! Deep! Arghghh!! Her little muscles milking the cream from me! ArghghhghFUCK! Splashing! Twitching! Thrusting!

My thrusting stopped. Her tiny pussy-muscles milking my final droplets from my satisfied prick. My fingers relaxing their grip upon her creamy white hips. She kissed her comatose husband so tenderly as I leaned back, my cock slipping from her sticky pussy. She kissed him again, her fingers stroking her Adam's apple. I stepped across the room to quickly collect my discarded clothing struggling back into them. Tucking my wilting but sticky dick back into my underwear I glance at her. She smiled at me. I return her smile and whispered, "He's one hell of a lucky bloke!"

As I open the door to leave the room I heard her whisper.... "Tonight - you were the lucky one".

That's it folks!

Future wedding invitations should be sent to my usual mail-box



Here Comes the Bride



"Mother, I know you're--" Geneva could hear Addy's plaintive tones a full twenty feet down the hallway as she pushed the wire frame with the wedding dress on it towards the dressing room. "Yes, but--" She sounded miserable, desperate, put-upon, and in general, like a bride on her wedding day. "I know you don't--" Geneva smiled a tiny smile, making sure to wipe it off her face before entering the room. Addy was right where Geneva wanted her, and the wonderful thing about it all was that Geneva didn't have to do a thing. Geneva never had to work to make sure the bride was stressed out and miserable. In fact, her entire profession rested on doing the exact opposite, and yet the reaction when she walked into the room was always--

"Oh, thank God!" Addy said as she saw Geneva walk in with the wedding gown. She promptly blushed, the red spreading past her cheeks all the way up into her forehead. "Sorry, Mother," she said into her cell phone. "I didn't mean to swear, I just--" Geneva gave her a tiny wave, and got an exhausted, pleading look in reply. "Geneva's here, Mother, I have to go. No, I really have to. We're putting on my wedding dress. Just--Mother, just try to get along with him, all right? I have to go now. Yes, I love you too. Bye." Addy flipped the phone shut.

"Best part of the next few hours?" Geneva said in a conspiratorial whisper. "No pockets on this thing. Which means you'll be leaving your cell phone in the dressing room." Addy let out a little giggle, and Geneva joined in.

"Right now, I just want to drop the stupid thing down a well," Addy said. Geneva marveled at her self-control. Many women would have substituted the phrase 'mother-fucking' for 'stupid' under these same conditions, but even under the stress of pre-wedding jitters, Addy kept her language clean. Not that Geneva had expected anything else, really. She'd gotten to know Addy really well over the last fifteen months, as the two of them planned Addy's wedding to Wilbur Mycroft with all the meticulous organization of D-Day, and Addy was exactly the kind of client Geneva loved. The kind that she'd gotten a reputation with, really. A nice, sweet, innocent girl who wanted nothing more than a church wedding. In fact, Addy had gotten Geneva's card in church, from another one of Geneva's clients who couldn't stop raving about how well Geneva understood what girls like them wanted in a wedding.

Geneva closed and locked the door. She definitely understood what girls like Addy wanted, and she'd been looking forward to this day just as much as Addy had, if not necessarily for the same reason. "Well, girlfriend," she said, putting a little sass in her tone, "aren't you going to try it on?"

Addy slipped out of her clothes, looking just a little vulnerable as she stood there in her underwear. "I can't believe it, Geneva," she said as she stared at the dress. "It's really happening, it's all really..." Tears filled her eyes. "It's so beautiful, it looks just like I always dreamed it would..."

Geneva carefully removed the dress from the model. "White as the driven snow," she said. Her skin seemed even darker against the white silk. "Come over here and try it on for size."

Addy blushed again as she walked over to Geneva and began putting on the dress. Geneva noticed the way the blush spread all over the younger girl's body, but was careful not to stare. She'd waited fifteen months for this day; she wasn't about to wreck it at the last minute with an obvious ogle. "Thanks for..." Addy stammered out. "I mean, I know that girls...I mean, I know it's okay not to wear white nowadays, but I just wanted everyone to know that I..."

"That you waited," Geneva said, smiling warmly. She hadn't even needed to ask if Addy 'deserved' to wear white on her wedding day. It had been obvious from the moment she'd laid eyes on the girl. Never had sex, never masturbated--hell, Geneva would be willing to lay odds that when Wilbur took his clothes off tonight, Addy wouldn't even recognize his dick. Not that Geneva had asked. She'd been very careful to avoid bringing up sex. She'd wanted to make sure to build up Addy's trust in her absolutely, and make sure that the other girl trusted her implicitly. She was only going to abuse that trust once, but it was going to be a doozy, and Geneva needed all the help she could get.

She zipped Addy up, and the other girl spun around in a fairy-tale princess pirouette. "How do I look?" she said, beaming.

"Wilbur won't believe his eyes," Geneva said.

Addy stopped mid-twirl and turned to face her. "You really think he'll like it?" she said, the nervousness suddenly back in her voice. She turned to the mirror, giving herself a quick look. "I mean, I'm sure he will, but I just want everything to be, y'know, perfect. Absolutely perfect." She let out a deep sigh. "I've never been more nervous about anything in my life, Gen."

Geneva smiled. "Well, we both know how to take care of that, don't we, honey?" She beckoned Addy over to the chair. "You'll need to stay standing up, because we don't want to wrinkle that pretty dress, but I think we've done this enough times that you can relax while you're upright, don't you?"

Addy looked almost pathetically grateful as she nodded. "Good girl," Geneva said as she sat down in the chair, reached up, and pressed her fingers to Addy's temples. Almost immediately, Addy's eyelids fluttered and closed, and an explosive sigh escaped her lips. "Very good, good girl," Geneva said. "Let's just go back there together, back to that soft, warm place that you love so very, very much. You know the way so well, good girl, and you're so happy to be there with me."

Addy nodded very gently, a dreamy smile on her face. Really, it wasn't hard for Geneva to addict her to this experience, not when she had fifteen months as Addy's wedding planner. Everyone always talked about how Geneva had a way of keeping her clients calm no matter what (mainly because Geneva wasn't above leaving a few suggestions in their minds to do exactly that), and given that just about every day brought forth a new crisis, Addy went from being uncertain to practically begging for trance within the space of a few days.

And now, she was so deeply conditioned that just a touch sent her into trance. "Now, good girl, let's just relax completely, here in this wonderful place, just you and I together. I want you to think about how happy you are, and how nice the wedding will be..."

"Mom..." Addy whispered, her calm disturbed only slightly by the thought of the potential disruption to the wedding. Awake, she'd have been absolutely freaking out, but Geneva knew that the trance wrapped her worries up in hypnotic bliss, keeping them from overwhelming her. No wonder the girl had stopped trying to fight Geneva's control. This was better than anything the CIA could come up with for a brainwashing technique. All they really needed to do was put terrorists to work planning a wedding for a few weeks, and they'd be willing to do anything to relieve the stress.

"I know, honey," Geneva said soothingly. "I'll make sure your mom and your uncle don't even lay eyes on each other until you're safely away on your honeymoon, I promise." Geneva felt the tension leave Addy's body just a little bit more as the cause of the cell phone conversation was removed as a source of stress. Which just left... "You're a little worried about your honeymoon, aren't you, Addy?"

"uh-huh," Addy said, her body sagging just a little onto Geneva's hands as she sank deeper. "Don't know what to do...to make Wilbur happy..." Just the act of confessing her secret fear seemed to relax Addy even further, send her even deeper down into hypnosis.

"I know, honey," Geneva said, layering even more sweetness into her voice. "You've never felt what it's like to make love before, have you?"

Addy shook her head slightly. "That's okay, good girl," Geneva said. "That's part of my job as your wedding planner, Addy. I'm going to help prepare you for tonight. You want me to help you, don't you, Addy?" The younger girl nodded slightly. If she'd been thinking critically, she'd have asked exactly how Geneva was going to help her, and probably been more than a little offended at the mere mention of the topic of the wedding night, no matter how delicately broached. But Addy wasn't thinking at all at the moment, critically or otherwise. She was deep in trance, she trusted Geneva implicitly, and if she was really a twenty-two year old virgin, she probably had enough repressed libido to fuel an orgy right now. There was no way her conscious mind was going to be interfering with this.

"Very good, good girl," Geneva said. "I'm going to show you that there's nothing to be worried about, Addy. There's nothing at all to be scared about, good girl, because it's going to feel very good to make love." She took one hand off of Addy's temple, sliding it down the white silk. "See how good it feels to be touched, Addy? You've always known it feels good, but you've never imagined just how wonderful it can feel before now."

Geneva slid her fingers along the decorative lacework of the gown, feeling for the hidden seam. It had taken quite a bit of cunning design work to put in a pocket near the crotch that Geneva could tear without it being visible at all, but the dressmaker had been very motivated. And Geneva had been diligent in rewarding her for it. With a sharp ripping sound, Geneva's fingers tore through the seam to press against Addy's flesh.

"And now, Addy, you're going to feel just how wonderful it feels, just how much bliss is waiting for you tonight." She worked her fingers into Addy's panties, hidden from view but perfectly captured in Geneva's memory from those few moments when the girl stood there, naked and blushing before Geneva's eyes. And now she was standing there, eyes closed, letting out tiny little gasps as Geneva worked her fingers into that tight little pussy, and she looked so much hotter dressed in the wedding gown than she ever could have naked.

"That's right, good girl," Geneva said, feeling slick wetness over her fingers, "just give into that feeling, let go and give into those sensations, feels so good, so very very good..." Addy was moaning now, bucking against Geneva's hand as Geneva rubbed her thumb against Addy's clit, and Geneva smiled at the way the innocent girl's pussy clenched around her fingers in mindless need. Wilbur might take Addy's virginity tonight, but Geneva would always remember that Addy's first orgasm came from a lesbian tryst in the church on their wedding day. Even if Addy didn't.

Geneva drank the whole thing in with her eyes, memorizing the expression of mindless rapture on Addy's face as she rode Geneva's hand deeper into pleasure, deeper into trance. Addy would never have a conscious memory of the moment, of course, but Geneva was always a little surprised at just how many of her old clients bumped into her, had a few drinks with her, and blurted out that they'd had such sexy dreams of her for so very, very long...Geneva wondered, as she fingered Addy's tight pussy, what Addy would dream of tonight.

Addy's moans turned into one long, insistent sigh of delight, and Geneva felt Addy's juices run down her hand as the girl came hard on her fingers. She spasmed around Geneva's hand for long moments, milking out every second of her first orgasm, before Geneva whispered, "That's right. That's my good girl, so relaxed and feeling so very, very good now, such a good girl, such a happy girl...and you know, Addy, that the important part of making love is all about making the other person feel as good as you, don't you?"

Addy probably didn't even know the first thing about making love, but she nodded nonetheless, her mind drinking in everything Geneva told her as she drifted in trance. "That's the most important thing, Addy," Geneva said. "You have to please your lover, Addy. You have to."

"Have to..." Addy husked out, her voice still quivering with bliss.

"And I made you feel that good, Addy, didn't I?"

"Yes..." Geneva knew that Addy would never even think about touching another woman if she was awake, that she'd probably fire Geneva on the spot if she knew that her wedding planner was a lesbian. But right here, right now, deeply hypnotized and behind a closed and locked door, Addy wasn't going to mind one little bit that she was being asked--no, not asked. Addy wasn't going to mind that she was being commanded to have sex with another woman.

"So now it's time to make me feel good, Addy," Geneva said. "Just go ahead, get down on your knees, and use your tongue to make me feel as good as I made you feel, good girl."

Addy nodded vacantly, dropping to her knees and slipping her head under the hem of Geneva's dress. The floor was clean, of course, but all the same, the act would leave a tiny little bit of dust on the dress.

That was what Geneva lived for, the moment that made it all worth while. All the play-acting, all the wholesome act, all fifteen months of having to be straighter than straight and all the care she'd taken in...oh, yesss...in getting Addy's trust. All worth it for this moment, right here, when...ofuck...when sweet, wholesome little Addy tongued her out until she came, when Addy stood up at the altar with a smudge on that virginal white--not even noticeable unless you were looking for it, too faint for most people to see but Geneva would know it was there. It was worth it, Geneva thought as she pressed her pussy into Addy's face as she came, for the moment when Wilbur kissed the bride and just for a moment wondered what that taste was, never knowing that it was her.

Geneva came a second time, but she knew it was only the beginning. She'd be jilling off to this memory for months.

*****

"I now pronounce you man and wife. What God has united, let no man put asunder."

Kathy sniffled. She couldn't help it, she always cried at weddings. Especially this one, it was just so beautiful. Addy looked so radiant up there with Wilbur, positively glowing. She'd never seen a bride who looked so happy. "This is just how I want my wedding to look," she said softly to Marc. She half-expected a flinch, but her boyfriend seemed to be just as affected by the spirit of the day as she was.

The woman sitting on the other side of her seemed to have overheard the comment. "I might be able to help you out there," she said. "I'm Addy's wedding planner. I helped arrange all this. When your boyfriend pops the question, feel free to give me a call."

Kathy smiled at her. "I suppose you get a lot of business at weddings."

Geneva grinned. "I get as much as I can handle," she said. "Just when it seems like things are tapering off, along comes the wedding day, and...BAM! I get busy all over again." Geneva saw from the look on Kathy's face that she'd definitely be getting busy with her someday soon.

THE END



Here Comes the Rain Again



"I love to watch the rain, don't you? It's so nice to sit there, in a soft, comfortable seat next to the window and watch the rain splash down. The clouds have drawn a curtain against the sun, so the light is just a little bit softer, just a little bit easier on the eyes, and you can just sit there and watch the raindrops come down out of the sky and relax. I'm not talking about a loud, violent storm. I'm thinking more of a steady, driving rain, the kind of storm where the rain just keeps coming down, not in gusts or squalls but insistently. The sort of rain that just feels like it could go on forever and you could just keep watching it forever.

"In a way, you could almost think of the words I'm speaking now as rain. You're just sitting there, listening as my words keep pouring into your ear in that same steady, insistent way. And just like the rain, you feel perfectly happy to just keep watching and listening for a while longer. There doesn't seem to be anything special you need to do, not on such a rainy day...that's why rainy days seem to be the perfect weather for sleep, because you can just curl up under that blanket of soft, gray clouds and listen to that soft pattering rhythm, just lulling you away to sleep.

"And sometimes, of course, when the rain just keeps pouring down, it pours in faster than it can drain away. You're probably feeling a bit like that right now. You can imagine my words, pouring into your mind just a little bit faster than you can really think about them right now, because you're nice and relaxed and thinking about the rain and perhaps it's just a little bit hard to really think about anything else. So my words start to fill up your mind, just like the rain collects in the gutters in little rivers.

"You can see those rivers now, in your mind's eye, always flowing down, always trying to find the way down as fast as they can, but my words just keep pouring into your mind, and filling your mind up with my thoughts more and more, deeper and deeper. The rain is so soothing, you're so relaxed, why not just let it fill you up a little deeper...and then a little deeper still? Just let my words, my thoughts sink into your mind, always flowing down into your deepest thoughts and then filling you up from the inside.

"You're probably finding it hard to think about anything else but my words now. You can see how my words have begun to really overflow your thoughts, collecting in your mind and filling up to the point where so many of the things you were thinking about are just submerged. And now that you think about it, you probably didn't need to think about those things for a while anyway. They can just rest there, under the sea of my will, while you let more and more of your thoughts sink away as my words continue to fill you up.

"It's really very soothing, the way that my words just keep pouring into your head. Just that same way that the rain lulls you to sleep, my words lull you to sleep. It's not quite the same sort of sleep, perhaps. You can still listen to my words, even while they keep submerging more and more of your mind under the slow, steady, insistent tide of my thoughts. But your body is feeling heavy in the same way you listen to the rain and feel sleepy, your mind is feeling thick and foggy in the same way you do as you drift off to sleep, perhaps even your eyes just close down and listen to the rain, listen to my words, listen to the rain of soft, comforting words that fills your mind almost completely now.

"You have so few thoughts left, now, above the surface of my will. You've almost sunk into me completely, and it feels nice. The rain is warm and clean, almost like a bath, a summer rain that just washes your mind completely as it fills you up and you sink into it. My words are just about filling up the last of your mind, the last of your thoughts, the last of your will. You can see it now, that one last thought, the very tip of it just above the surface of the water, and you realize it's the part of you that's even thinking about my words instead of just accepting them. But you know I'm still talking, and you know that every word fills you up just a little bit more, and so you know that any second now, even that last little thought is going to sink below the surface of the water, and every bit of you will sink into my words. And it happens so softly, so easily, so quietly that you almost don't notice it. You're just listening, and I tell you that it's gone now, and you realize it sunk under and you never even knew it.

"And you can see that water now, a perfect pool. There's no waves, no wind; your mind is just so smooth, so still, so calm. I can toss a thought or an idea into that pool now, and it will sink into your mind with barely even a ripple. It'll just sink all the way down, down, down into the deepest part of you, and it will stay there. That's almost a little overwhelming at first, to think of how my ideas will sink in so deep. You've never been this deep before, and there are all sorts of things down here you didn't even know were there.

"We're going to discover together. I'm going to help you find the sunken treasure that fills the deepest part of your mind, and bring it up to the surface. And hearing that relaxes you. You know that all the things I put in your mind will help you find the treasures within yourself, and hearing that helps you trust me. You can trust me completely. You can trust me completely. You can trust me...completely.

"You can see it all, as you float within the depths of your own mind, all the sparkling and glittering wonders you never even knew existed down here. They're so pretty that you could lose yourself for hours, gazing at them as you float in my words, and you never even imagined you had them inside of you. But I knew. This is why I wanted to take you so deep, to show you that inside this still, silent pool, there is such joy, such bliss. I want to take the hidden treasures and bring them up for the world to see.

"And this is why you invited me to fill your mind up with my words and my thoughts, because you knew that I will add to those treasures. The thoughts I put into the deepest part of you, all the way at the bottom of that pool, those are more wonderful treasures that you can keep. They're my gift to you, given freely.

"And now that you know where these gifts and treasures are, you know that even after the rain ends and my words recede to their normal place in your mind, you'll be able to dive down, deep into this part of yourself and bring them out whenever you want to think about them...and knowing that, and knowing that they'll always be there when you need them, you can also dive deep down to hide them again in the warm, drifting waters at the bottom of your mind.

"You can swim down, deeper down into the still, warm, pleasant water, diving ever deeper until you're submerged completely in my thoughts and my words. There's something so timeless about it, so wonderful, knowing that you're safe here within my words and that my thoughts will help you discover all the treasures within you.

"And now, you're so relaxed, just floating in my words and relaxing so deeply, so completely, knowing that someone you trust is holding your mind and that my thoughts are washing your brain, washing away the things you don't need and keeping the things you do, and that makes you so happy. It feels good to relax and float like this. You enjoy relaxing and floating for me. You're safe here when you relax for me, and float for me.

"And now my words are more like currents than like rain, flowing and swirling around you as you drift under the warm, soothing water. The currents swirl around you, guiding your thoughts because they're all submerged under my thoughts and that makes it so easy for my thoughts to direct yours, just in the same way that the pull of the current is inexorable, irresistible. And you don't mind that, because you're so relaxed that you don't even want to fight the currents. You just want to see where they'll take you. The slow, insistent tug of my words just pulls you along, and you relax and go with it because it's so nice.

"It does feel nice, the way the currents gently stroke your thoughts in soothing caresses that seem to touch not just your body but your mind as well. You've never felt anything quite like this before, the way my words just seem to gently caress and stroke your thoughts. It feels so nice, so very very good that you find yourself letting out a quiet little sigh of pleasure, now. Just let out that nice, soft, tiny little sigh and feel how good you feel, right now. Just hold onto that, and let it grow, let it build.

"It keeps building, as my words keep caressing you, keep stroking you, and the tug of the current is growing stronger. It's actually pulling at your hands now, you feel my words pulling and tugging at your hands until they begin to move all on their own. You can't fight the pull, you don't even really want to. You feel your hands just begin to move, directed by my currents, my words, my will, pulling your clothes off, and that's alright. That's exactly what you want right now. That's exactly what you need right now.

"Even as my words move your hands, my words keep stroking your mind, filling you up with pleasure in the same way I filled you up with my will. So much pleasure, so deep inside you, warm currents stroking your mind, warm currents causing your hands to stroke your body. That's right, you hadn't even really noticed what your hands were doing, but now you notice that as they take your clothes off, they don't stop moving. They just keep going, caressing your body in the same way my words caress your mind, and they're just going to keep gently roaming over your body until they find the places that feel oh, so good to touch. The current will just keep pulling at them until they find the very best places to stroke and touch and then, when they find them, they'll just keep touching. They won't stop. I don't want them to stop and neither do you.

"You don't want to fight them. You don't want to fight any of this. It all feels too good to stop, feeling good and getting better, submerged in my thoughts and my words and my will and sunk so deep, so safe and warm and feeling so very, very good, floating in a sea of bliss as the tide of my words spill over into you, overflowing your mind now as they just keep stroking, keep caressing, keep building that pleasure until it flows over and spills out and you can feel it building now until it crashes into you so deep, so deep and so good and just let it all out and let yourself build, pleasure so intense, now, so intense and hot and tight and good until you just stop thinking and let yourself...

"Cum. Let yourself cum, let it all out, let all that pleasure spill out completely and just flow, an ocean of pleasure now, an endless sea of orgasmic bliss as you stroke and touch and feel and drift, cumming so hard, so nice, your mind quivering with pleasure and your body flowing right along with it, just so good, yes, cum. Cum.

"And now, just let that feeling subside very slowly. You can just hang on to those wonderful feelings for a bit longer, just let that pleasure ebb away so very, very slowly as you come back to yourself. When I stop talking, then all those words will begin to drain away, deep into the deepest parts of your thoughts until you're ready to think about them again. You'll wake up at your own pace, letting this feeling drain away as fast or as slow as you need to, but when my words stop flowing in, this warm, dreamy feeling will drain away, and you'll wake up feeling refreshed and happy. And now the brainstorm is ending, and you're thinking about all the wonderful things I talked about, and the last few tiny droplets of rain are ending...

"Now."

THE END 



Here Comes The TONGUE PATROL!



The police vehicle drove into the suburban street at low cruising speed. It came to a halt by the curb in front of the lawn of the fourth house by the right. Emblazoned on either side of the vehicle was the symbol of the Tongue Patrol, or an eagle's head enclosed in a shield of gold. Few neighbouring eyes turned from what they were doing to size up the vehicle with speculation, neither one of them had ever come across such a patrol unit before. Probably something the state recently introduced to keep the streets further safe from exploding crime rate.

The drivers' door opened and a black man dressed in matching black shirt and khaki shorts stepped out, closed the door behind him and stood there for a moment, savouring the morning summer's air. He wore a black Stetson hat, with the Tongue Patrol insignia stamped in the centre. He was of average height with the body frame of one known to fitness hours inside a gym often; the fabric of his clothes bulging slightly outwards from his muscles. His skin had a luminous shine about them, almost as if he'd rubbed himself with baby oil before coming down here; his features were both calm and handsome. His eyes stared from behind a pair of glasses, taking in the view of the street with serene interest. Making his way through the front of his patrol car, he stepped into the driveway of his designated house and approached the front door.

He pressed the doorbell. Heard a female voice from inside yelling that she was coming. It didn't take long before there came the sound of a lock twisting in the door and finally it came open. The woman was middle-aged, somewhere in here mid-forties. Shoulder-length brown hair, questioning hazel eyes and full lips that looked ever inviting. She was wearing a housecoat and polka dot boxer shorts. Her brow made a slight frown as she took in the expressionless glare of the patrol Officer.

"Yes, Officer? What can I do for you?" she asked the question hesitatingly as if already scared to hear the reply.

"Good morning, ma'am. My name is Officer Kent from the Tongue Patrol squad," the Officer said warmly, taking out his ID shield from the corner of his waist belt and presenting it to her. "We're a newly assigned squad, perhaps you might have heard about us."

She shook her head slowly, still sceptical of what he was here for. "No sir, I don't think I have."

"Anyway, it's irrelevant. You are Miss Delilah Ferguson, right, and you work over at Johnston & Baker Enterprises over on 147 Canal Avenue?" she nodded that yes she was. "Well ma'am, our office has received tons of complaints from numerous co-workers of yours claiming that you've been up to no good. I'm here to make sure everything gets straightened out."

Delilah blinked several times. "Officer, I'm sorry but I don't understand --"

"Why don't we continue our discussion inside, ma? I'd advise you to remain calm so as not to draw any attention from the neighbours."

"Oh, okay ... all right," she opened the door further, and allowed the Officer inside before closing it behind him. She led the way through the hallway and into the living room. From the stereo speakers echoed the words of Phil Collins crooning about feeling something coming in the air tonight. Delilah reduced the volume to a bare minimum before turning to face her visitor.

"Officer Kent, look, I have no idea what any of my colleagues might have told you, but I still have no idea of whatever it is that you're here about."

"You will in due time ma'am, I assure you. But for now I'd like to conduct a reasonable inspection of your home in case you're procuring any illegal substances."

Delilah couldn't believe what she had just heard. "Illegal what?"

"That's correct, ma'am. I'd first like to start with your bedroom. Perhaps you may lead the way." He indicated a hand towards the staircase by the hallway. Delilah made no attempt to move; her face was still aghast at the Officer's incriminating words. Officer Kent decided then to add some evidence of threat to his words. "Ma'am, you either co-operate with me right now, or it's a ride down to the station in a pair of handcuffs. And trust me when I say you wouldn't want for that to happen."

Delilah thought it best to obey, seeing that she had little or no choice in the matter, and led the way up the flight of stairs towards her bedroom. She opened the door and made way for the Officer to step inside. She waited while his head turned towards every corner of the room, taking in the bed, dresser, vanity table and everything else. He made no attempt to search anything.

"Well, Officer?" she said indignantly.

"I would like to start with the bathroom, if you don't mind."

"This just keeps on getting better," she muttered before opening the bathroom door and stood in the centre of the room, facing him. Her face slowly turning angry. "Well, look around for yourself and tell me whatever it is that's illegal in here that you could possibly find."

"Actually madam, I already have found it," Officer Kent said, taking off his hat and dropping it on the floor. His head was round and neatly shaved, and it also glistened with an oily sheen to it. 

He came forward and grabbed hold of Delilah's hand and forced her down on the toilet seat. Delilah protested and yelled at him, telling him to let go of her, throwing punches at him, but none of them doing any damage to the man. 

The Officer managed to pin her down with one hand while his other ripped her housecoat aside and grabbed hold of her left breast. A sudden charge of electricity shot out within her as the Officer lowered his head and planted his mouth upon her breast, running his tongue on her nipple that was instantly hardening. Delilah was still struggling, but her attempts were slowly decreasing as she was suddenly surrendering herself to the warmth of arousal coming from the Officer's mouth. The Officer made an animal-like groan from inside his throat as his tongue slurped round every corner of her large breast as if not wanting to get enough of it, till he then came round before her, lowered himself to his knees and turned his attention to her other breast, applying the same relish as he'd did with the former. 

Finally, he stopped, forced her shorts down her thighs and pushed her to rest her back on the tank while spreading her legs wide, resting her right one on the side of the bath tub while bringing her other on his right shoulder.

"This here is the illegal stuff you've been hiding," Officer Kent said, using his thumb to rub against the tiny knob that was her clitoris, unleashing further excitement upon her. Delilah gasped as the black Officer then started licking up her pussy, emitting the same animal-like sound as he set about eating her up. Up and down, side-to-side, his tongue explored every nook and cranny of her labia, stopping now and then to spit into it before returning to the job, his lips making sucking sounds that sounded far more erotic to the ears. Delilah cried with uncontrollable passion as huge sparks of electricity travelled around her body, sending live wires of shivers from her legs up to her womb and further up to her brain. Her head whipped side to side in ecstatic frenzy; her hands cradled the Officer's head with pressing force. The Officer reached both hands under the seat, pulling at the same time raising her ass upwards as his tongue then searched for her asshole. He made a stabbing motion with his tongue, burying it as far deep as he could make it into her ass. This brought another bout of explosion in Delilah's screaming mind.

"Oh my God," she whimpered and moaned at the same time, "so this is what the Tongue Patrol is all about?"

"Oh yes," Officer Kent replied. "All this and more. It's ever our duty to serve the public's need."

"Well, I hope this isn't where it ends. You'll have to do more than this to satisfy me."

"With full pleasure," he said, getting up to his feet holding her hand to help her up to her feet. Delilah's lips smacked against his, her hand fumbling for the zipper of his shorts, finding it and then delving her hand inside to grab hold of his hard member while the Officer's hands pushed her house cloth off her shoulders, bringing his mouth back to her breasts while his hands came down to grab hold of both half moons of her ass, first squeezing then smacking his palm on them, making Delilah utter a low cry. He raised her up from her feet, her legs wrapped around his back while he carried her out of the room and dropped her on the bed.

"Get off those clothes now, Officer," Delilah cried out while her hands undressed herself. Everything about her was now a whirl of heightened excitement. She breathed hoarsely on the Officer's face. "I want you RIGHT NOW!"

Officer Kent did exactly what he was ordered to what -- what he was meant to do. His hands ripped off his clothes in less than a minute. Delilah gasped at the sight of his handsome black body; every ripeness and muscle of his abs and torso screamed out with vigour and manliness. Less than a minute he'd unbuckled his patrol belt and dropped his shorts down his ankle. His left hand stroked his massive cock as Delilah came to her knees, bringing her head forward, her mouth falling open as her tongue came in contact with his manhood.

She gave out a satisfying sigh as her tongue and lips dragged back on his cock. She paused to look at it, her lips curled in a smile at the sight of its wetness before plunging back for another. Officer Kent moaned out, fumbling his fingers through her hair while her head kept on bobbing to her work, her mouth making slurping, succulent noises as she alternated between sucking and gagging on his member, finding out just how much of it she could swallow, feeling saliva drip off the under of her lips while she did it. Her hand reached under to cup his testicles, fingering them. She paused from her sucking, lolled her tongue down the length of his shaft before burying her mouth upon it again. Kent reached over her back, inserting two fingers into her pussy hole, bringing out further moan from her.

"All right ma'am," Officer Kent said, pushing her away from his cock. "I believe it's time to put you to work."

"Oh, I can barely wait," Delilah muttered, falling on her back while Officer Kent positioned himself by the bed's edge. Spreading her legs wide apart, his right hand holding his cock as he carefully drove it into her pussy hole. 

Delilah cried out from the contact. "Oh God, Officer Kent. That feels SO VERY GOOD! OH PLEASE, DON'T STOP." 

Officer Kent once again obeyed and gave her as thorough a fucking he could possibly give. Delilah cried and moaned out as Kent's shaft banged forcefully in and out of her; his fingers played with her clitoris; his chest heaved with repeated grunts, his face contorted into a mask of vicious grimness while he pumped harder into her. When he was through, he turned her over on her arms and knees, her big round ass facing him. Officer Kent gave her pussy a few nourishing licks with his tongue, hearing her moan with pleasure from it, before getting up and plunging his cock back into her hole. He rammed his way back and forth, in and out of her pussy, his hands holding unto either side of her hips, pulling her towards him just when she felt like escaping from his torture. Delilah couldn't desist from screaming with delight as each time she felt his cock hit hard inside her sent shockwave after shockwave of wanton pleasure all over here. While she moaned, she reached a hand between her legs, massaging her pussy though not wanting to bring herself to sudden climax; it was too early for her to want that. 

After a while he stopped, moved her aside and came and lay on the bed while she came and straddled him, guiding his cock back into her pussy. She gave a sudden cry of surprise as the Officer viciously smacked his hips against the back of her thighs, pumping his cock in and out of her like a piston as hard and as fast as he could. She leaned her face closer to his, feeling his lips grab hold of her breast, clamouring into his ear to fuck her harder ... don't stop, just fuck me harder. The Officers' hands grabbed hold of her ass and raised her halfway up, giving his hips more leverage to smack harder against hers. The bedroom hung heavy with the sweet smell of sex. 

He maintained this position for a while till suddenly rolled over on his back, taking her with him till he was on top of her, never once losing momentum, and continued with his fucking. The bed shook and quivered under them as they moaned and gasped into each other's face, copious sweat pouring from his face and landing on her breasts. 

"You like this, don't you, ma'am," the Officer said. "You like being fucked hard by a giant black cock, don't you."

"Oh, Yes! Yes, I very much do!" Delilah screamed at him, feeling her hands on the hardness of his ass, the way they moved up and down as he slammed his cock as hard as he could into her pussy, making her cry out louder with each attempt. 

Suddenly her body began undergoing a rocking spasm, her eyes came wide open with apparent realisation at what she was undergoing. It was a realisation she had experienced on only few occasions since the start of her sex life.

"Oh my God, I'm coming. Oh God, I'm coming! Don't stop! OH LORD, I BEG YOU, DON'T STOP! FUCK ME HARDER ... FASTER!! OH GOD I'M GOING TO COMMMEE -- "

Her words carried on in lengthy scream while she shook her head to either side, letting her hair scatter in a fan around her as she surrendered herself to the gigantic sensation that was exploding within her. Officer Kent on the other hand held her legs upon his shoulder, the biceps on his arms popped out as his hips jerked back and forth, fucking her out of this world. He too was already sensing a tiny sensation starting to building inside the mouth of his cock; his face squeezed further into his sweat-covered brow as the sensation grew higher and higher with each succeeding pump he made. Delilah held him with her eyes.

"Give it to me, Officer," she gasped. "I want to swallow you."

"You want me to give it to you?"

"Yes ... I want it. I want to swallow all of it."

A sudden roar escaped the Officer's mouth as he pulled his wet cock out from between her legs, came over and knelt beside her face, aiming his cock at her open mouth as he shot his wad between her lips. He pumped his cock four more times, emptying his semen into her mouth. Delilah sat on her elbow, holding his cock in her hand while her lips dutifully licked every last drop from him. Officer Kent watched her kiss his cock, feeling heartbeat slowly return to normal, his lowered his head and kissed her lips. 

"Don't forget to tell the rest of your friends about us, okay?" he said to her. "Like I said earlier, we are trained never to disappoint."

"Yes, I can certainly see that, Officer Kent." She turned and reached across to the other side of the bed, opened a side drawer and took out what looked like a leaflet off a checkbook. "Perhaps next time I call, you think I can get a discount from your office?"

"Definitely you will, ma'am." The Officer said, taking the signed check from her, flashing her a grin. "Next time, most definitely, you will."

Officer Kent gathered up his clothes and in no time wore them back up. He gave Delilah a final kiss before heading out of the room, down the stairs and from there out through the front door. He placed his Stetson back on his head as he made his way towards his car. He started the engine, dropped the check into his front pocket and slowly made his way out of the neighbourhood.

Another job satisfyingly well done.



Here Cum Da Judge



Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction concocted entirely within my imagination. Any resemblance to real people shouldn't be surprising since most of my stories are based on people I know. While I hope you enjoy this story and are compelled to provide feedback, I don't expect the subject matter will appeal to everyone who reads it. As such, I discourage venomous, nasty feedback full of violent wishes against essentially fictional characters in fictional situations. If this story does not appeal to you, there is undoubtedly one somewhere on Literotica that will, so your energy will be better spent on finding it rather than on vilifying me.

*

It was 5:30 a.m. and the Honorable Mary Duncan lay awake in her bed, her husband, Shawn, snoring softly beside her. It wasn't the snoring that was keeping her awake, though. She had awakened thinking about something that had happened previous day and she smiled as she replayed it in her head.

Judge Duncan sat in the local district court and, at 52, was admired as much for her firm, fair rulings as she was for her sleek body and a face that defied her age. She enjoyed her life and planned to keep enjoying it for many years to come, so she took exquisite care of herself, mainly through exercise and diet but also by never denying her voracious sexual appetite. She was discreet, she was careful and she was rarely left unsatisfied.

It had been about mid-afternoon the previous day when she entered her chambers after calling for a much needed recess. She was pleased to see Olivia, one of the clerks of her courtroom, awaiting her. Olivia was an extremely intelligent, very pretty and slightly overweight young woman of Mexican heritage. Her skin was dark, her hair was jet black and her bosom was substantial. One of the things that always impressed Judge Duncan about Olivia was that Olivia always seemed to know exactly what Judge Duncan needed at any given moment, whether it was a cup of tea, a particular law reference or something else. Today, Mary needed something else and there was Olivia, on the same wavelength as usual.

"Hello, Olivia. Is the door locked?" Judge Duncan asked as she bolted the door she had come through. Olivia indicated that it was and waited as the judge crossed to her desk, unzipping her robes as she walked. By the time she had moved her chair sideways to her desk and turned to sit in it, Olivia was already kneeling on the floor in front of her. Holding her robes open, she raised the hem of her skirt to her waist, revealing her stockings, panties and garter belt. Olivia reached up and took the sides of her panties, sliding them down over the garters and stocking tops and down her toned legs, exposing her smoothly shaved pussy. Judge Duncan spent good money at the beauty salon to make sure her graying hair looked as if it was naturally maintaining its color, but she was damned if she'd go to that trouble on her pussy, so she just shaved it.

The judge sat down and spread her legs as Olivia leaned in and ran her tongue up the judge's smooth slit. Olivia had been in this position enough times to know exactly what Mary liked and what would bring her to a quick orgasm. She slipped two of her chubby fingers into the judge's slick hole and pumped them in and out as she licked her clit. Mary ran her fingers through Olivia's thick hair and enjoyed the sensations the younger woman was so adept at providing her. Olivia continued to finger Mary's hole and lick her clit even as she felt her own pussy juices soaking her panties. She didn't expect the judge to have time to reciprocate, but that was okay. Like the judge, Olivia had been involved sexually with every other clerk on the staff, so she knew she could find someone to scratch her itch for her once Judge Duncan was back in court. She hoped it would be Greg with his thick, hard cock. She wanted to bend over, flip up her skirt and have him take her from behind until she came then turn and suck him until he came in her mouth. Her pussy quivered just thinking about it.

She refocused on the task at hand, knowing the sooner she was done, the sooner she could be satisfied herself. She pulled Judge Duncan's smooth lips up and away from her rigid clit and sucked the little erection between her lips. The judge started forcing her hips at Olivia's face and held her head in place as Olivia fingered her and sucked harder on her clit. Olivia loved the judge's smooth pussy and had shaved her own pussy as well after a few sessions with Judge Duncan. There was nothing quite like the feeling of rubbing her bald pussy against the judge's. The first time they'd done it, she didn't think she'd ever stop cumming.

Judge Mary Duncan found herself reaching a climax courtesy of Olivia's tongue, lips and fingers. Her nipples were so hard, she felt as if they might pop right through her blouse and, as she always felt with Olivia, the pleasure she felt building within her was so intense, she feared that someday she might actually lose control of her bodily functions. It didn't happen this time, but she had to bite back a cry of pleasure as her orgasm washed over her. Olivia slurped down the increased flow of juices bathing her face. She continued to lap at the judge's pussy until she had settled down, then sat back on her heels and smiled up at the judge, knowing she'd done a good job.

"Olivia," the judge said, once she'd recovered, "I think we may need to schedule another mentoring session very soon. In fact, what do you think of the idea of a mentoring retreat? We could spend a weekend at my cabin in the mountains and get some real one-on-one time." Mary was pleased to see Olivia's eyes light up at the idea. Clearly Olivia was as enamoured as she was at the prospect of a weekend together, naked and secluded. She promised to make the arrangements as soon as possible.

As Mary lay in bed, she realized that her pussy was dripping wet and her nipples were hard as pebbles. Without being aware, she'd been stroking her clit with one hand and toying with her nipples with the other. Shawn still slept beside her, but she knew that in their 25 years of marriage, he had never once complained about being woken up for sex. She slipped under the covers and found his thick cock laying against his leg. She wrapped her warm mouth around it and it immediately began to grow. Swirling her tongue around and pulling it with her lips, she coaxed it to its full length and thickness and it filled her mouth. Shawn began stirring as she slid her lips up and down his cock and held his balls gently in her hand. At 55, Shawn wasn't likely to need Viagra any time soon. He kept himself physically fit along with Mary; in fact, it was necessary just to keep up with her.

"Good morning, Sunshine," Shawn mumbled, as consciousness invaded his sleep. Mary said nothing as she slipped his cock out of her mouth and pumped it in her fist and her tongue explored his balls. When she felt he was completely ready for her, she crawled up, reached behind her, and guided his large cock into her slippery slit. They both groaned. Even after all these years and all the cocks that had explored her pussy both before and during their marriage, he still filled her up and she still felt tight to him. As Mary began riding up and down on his cock, Shawn's hands went to her still pert breasts and his thumbs brushed back and forth over her nipples.

Mary's mind wandered back to Olivia as her husband's cock filled her pussy. She had held several "mentoring" sessions with Olivia in this very bed. She could still picture Olivia, her long black hair spread out around her, large nipples and areolas topping her big breasts and her thick thighs framing her shaved pussy. Initially, Mary had been disappointed that Olivia had shaved her pussy thinking that she should appreciate her thick, black hair while she was young. Then, they brought their smooth pussies together and the pleasure had been intense enough that Mary had almost blacked out. Mary never gave Olivia's formerly hairy pussy a second thought.

As the thoughts of Olivia circulated through Mary's head, it was extremely fortunate that she had Shawn's cock pumping in and out of her because every nerve ending in every erogenous zone in her body was crying out for relief. The only thing that could possibly have made her happier would have been to have another cock in her mouth, or at least a sweet pussy. Instead of dwelling on what she didn't have, Mary focused on what she did have buried deep inside her. She rode Shawn's cock hard, flying up and down and bringing her orgasm closer. Shawn was a good boy, as usual, holding his own climax back in anticipation of hers. He just kept forcing his fat tool as deep as he could into her slick channel.

He could tell her orgasm was getting close when her noises became more frequent and she rode him faster. His hands were on her hips, pushing her down as he pushed his own hips up and when she finally screamed out the way she always did when their location gave her the freedom to do so, he kept pushing his cock in and out of her. Feeling the increased lubrication always did him in at this point and, just as she was coming down from hers, his orgasm came on with a vengeance. His cock swelled, his balls tightened and he shot load after load of cum deep into her. Mary was so sexually wired that feeling his cum shooting inside her brought on another intense orgasm. Finally, she collapsed on him, completely spent. As she lay there, she thought how much Shawn would appreciate sharing Olivia with her some night. Maybe after they came back from their retreat.



Here Cum The Parkers!



Patty & Karin by lesbian_slutmom (aka patty parker)

CHAPTER ONE

700 pm....I wait in my bedroom for one, or both of my sweet young daughters to arrive. Earlier, after a nice bubble bath and a cleanse (enema), I put on a black lace suspender belt and stockings, plus stilettos of the same shade, and a thin black chemise over the lot. There's the front door!....

The lights are down low, beautiful and sexy Karin is in my arms. She smells sweet, having showered after aerobics class. As I help her peel off her work-out gear, darling Karin plants a soft, wet kiss on my mouth. Her lips are like velvet against my own. Her warm tongue is like a serpent of excitement within my mouth. I take her hands in my own and settle them upon my large, heaving breasts.

I lift the filmy material above my heavy, unencumbered breasts. The dark brown, rubbery looking nipples harden perceptively as the cool air hits them. Karin's hands are slender, and long-fingered. The way she fondles and squeezes my supple mammary-flesh is evidence of her fetish for large boobs. I exude a full sigh of joy into Karin's mouth as my nipples stiffen into almost painful hardness.

I'm seated on my king-sized bed, and I widen my thighs so that Karin and snuggle yet closer. Her soft lips suckle me, the roughness at the back of her tongue makes me moan aloud.

She works both of the hard nipples with her tongue, delighting me as as she switches from one to the other. She knows what arouses me most,and bites down gently on my turgid teats as I shift and wriggle about.

"God yes, more" I whisper throatily.

One slips-down between us to spider-along my freshly-shaven mons. My hips perform a slow hula as her fingers work their magic. My lovely baby's digits quicken their pace, rubbing the top of my vulva, then slipping back to delve back inside. The heat and energy generated between my thighs is making me drip. I can feel a few drops making their way down the insides of my legs, to melt into the tops of my stocking vamps. Karin straightens her fingers, runs the adjacent thumb along the top of my crease. My gasp of want is music to her ears...

She leaves me for only a few seconds, long enough to retrieve a large bottle of baby-oil and one of the numerous strappies stored in my night table. The one she selects is a mere 10", and I'm secretly a bit relieved as the last few days have not been enough respite from the vigorous back-door bum-fiddling I 'd been subjected to the week prior (my "monthly visitor", which lasts three days max, on the normal, earns me a buggery- free 72 hours before normal activities resume)...

With my help, the contraption is secured about her waist in only a few moments, and as I lie back, I lift my legs high, which raises my bottom into perfect position for the angle at which her big cock is jutting, high and perpetually stiff. I have taken the time to grease myself throughly back there, so that when she drives into me, in one quick, fluid thrust, my anus flowers open greedily and easily accepts the entire length. One fully-sheathed, Karin takes her time, slowly but gradually building momentum. My heels rest on her shoulders so that I'm bent nearly double, so that I have a bit of difficulty reaching down between us twiddle my un-sheathed little pearl.

My botty is full to the brim, yet my palpitating, hotly-inflamed flesh receives her probing, prying dildo-cock with a smooth, sucking motion. I am deeply, DEEPLY impaled, and I'm LOVING it! I can feel my anal walls sucking and hugging the snakelike, twisting I intruder.

The shaft slides in and out easily, titillating my sensitive walls and sending delicious thrills rippling from my bottom to snapping fanny and spiraling around my clitoris. I moan, gasp, whimper as my daughter's antics at my back door accelerate. I wail my pleasure, beg, plead and whimper for her to keep fucking my ass, never stop fucking my ass! My big buttocks wobble and quake with each contact of Karin's thighs. She is perspiring freely, her eyes slitted and her nostrils flaring while she slim hips swivel and thrust.

"Dear, GAWD!" I yelp, as the first of many smaller, gut-quivering orgasms spiral through me. It comes-up up from the bottom of my pleasure and swells into a crescendo, a liquid tidal wave beyond all proportion.

I come crashing down from this high, gasping for breath, finally finished with the heavy orgasm. I am totally limp underneath Karin. Her eyes are closed, her chest heaving the air in and out. She is completely spent as well. After a time, she assists me in disembarking from the hanging gadget and leads me in for a shower. After that, bed and blessed sleep. 



Here Cummeth the Ass-Man



NOTE: All characters in this story are over 18.

Mat's mother, Pam, bent over beside him in his room picking up towels and dirty socks. Feet apart and ass spread wide, Mat visualized his cock sliding in and out her pussy as she moved about the room. Today his mom was wearing her short, cotton grey shorts that deliciously stretched over her fat, round ass. It left little to the imagination as Mat could see every dimple and jiggle as she squatted and walked about. "I don't know why you think the floor's a hamper. The day this floor's clean without my intervention is the day I call the police and tell them you're missing." 

Lost in how tan and round her thighs were, Mat awoke from his trance and said, "To change a man you must first change his grandmother," he joked.

Pam laughed. "Don't use that line with me. Your grandmother isn't nearly as messy as this."

"Perhaps the other one, then."

"Heh, your guess is as good as mine," Pam said.

"Gram and Gran are coming over when, exactly?"

"Should get here tomorrow sometime after lunch."

Mat was a senior in high school who lived alone with his mother. Perhaps he was a soon to be budding success, or maybe a soon to be shut-in; no one could tell. He was handsome enough and got decent grades, though. His mother cherished him, and, consequently, probably put up with a little too much from him. His whole life it had always just been him and his mom. To his knowledge, his father wasn't dead, just nonexistent; and, honestly, he was alright with that. He might have some subconscious primal rage in him about being fatherless; but, as of now, it hadn't crept to the surface. All was well. He was just a normal teenage boy lusting over- 

His mother, Pam, was not quite so forgettable. She had the build of a housewife; short, a little stocky, with curly, luscious hair that could be fixed up quickly; but the first thing you noticed about her was her magnificently large tits. Mat checked a bra once that was right out the laundry and it read 38EE, which he believed because they were pretty huge. They were all the time jiggling and bouncing as she moved about. When her nipples got hard, which was often, the areola seemed as big as coke cans. They were absolutely great, but her ass, on the other hand, was the real show stopper to Mat- big, smooth and each cheek almost perfectly circular. If you just saw the front half of her, you would never guess she was packing that kind of heat behind her. Almost every friend Mat had ever had admitted to jerking off to her and that big sweet ass of hers. Mat couldn't blame them. He had been jerking off to her since he and his cock had started having late night discussions.

Pam continued picking up dirty laundry and Mat's cock was now at full mast as he sat in his computer chair watching her. She picked up a sock and looked at it quizzically: "This one's all hard and rough in spots. What happened to it?" she asked, feigning seriousness.

Mat got red in the face and said, "I don't know. I guess it got dirty while I was running outside the other day."

"Right. Likely story," she said. She walked out the room and turned around and said, "You don't have any tissues or paper towels in here, do you?" Mat shook his head. "I'll be sure to pick you up some this evening, then. Maybe you can clean up your mess with them instead of your socks." She started to walk away, but turned around again and added, "Because, from the looks of it, you've been making big messes quite often lately." Mat's face got real hot and he looked at his computer screen to avoid her knowing eyes. 

After she had put everything in the washing machine and changed into a respectable jean dress and a black turtleneck, she came back in his room and said, "Well, I'm going to the store to pick up some things before your grandparents get here tomorrow. Want anything in particular for dinner?"

Almost fully recovered from the earlier accusation, Mat replied, "Um, I'm in the mood for pizza. Nothing store bought or ordered, though. Let's make it."

"OK. Why don't you get the dough ready in the bread machine while I'm out, and I'll pick up some toppings."

"Awesome," Mat said. His mother then came over and kissed him on the forehead and ruffled his hair. He put up with it like any other boy his age would; yet, unlike other boys, he didn't lose the opportunity to turn his head at the right moment so he would get a nice feel of his mom's tits brushing into his face. Pam noticed this not so subtle movement, and let her tits rest against her son's face for a moment or two. She looked down at his crotch and saw that a sizeable tent had formed. Unconsciously, she pushed his head harder into her bosom, and noticed that she herself was getting aroused. Her nipples were becoming erect, and there was a drop of moisture sliding down into her panties. Pam shivered and left as quickly as she could. 

Once Mat heard her car back out of the driveway and switch gears, his shorts were dropped to his ankles and his cock brought out. He ignored a computer with a cable connection as he had all the imagery he needed in his mind: Up, down, up down, his hand instantly pumped. God her ass was so round! He wanted nothing more than to fuck her up the ass. He'd lube that nice little pucker hole of hers, stick a few fingers up there for a while, and then instruct her to sit down on his cock. God, the feel of that fat ass coming down on his cock would be heaven on earth, he knew it. And those tits! He could still feel them pushing against his face. So soft. So huge. Had he detected a hint of an aroused nipple before she left? Did she push his head against her tits on purpose? 

Mat was about to cum before a very warped, perverted idea occurred to him. Cock in hand, shorts abandoned at his desk, he walked to where the bread maker was in the kitchen. Should he? Would she notice? Mmm. What if she did notice? She wouldn't know what it was. There'd be no way. But she just might detect a new ingredient. Oh, he had to do it now. It was so erotic and wrong... He pulled out the tray and began pumping his cock over it, all the while thinking of his mom and her gorgeous ass. He couldn't wait to watch her eat his own cum. Know that while they were watching a movie on the couch, his sperm was traveling through her body. That thought sent him over the ledge and he began shooting rope after rope into the container. He must have ejaculated seven very large shots of cum in there. There was so much he wondered whether it would interfere with the baking process.

Mat went and put his shorts back on and walked back into the kitchen to finish putting the ingredients in for the dough. Even after he cummed, he was still horny. There was no moment of thinking, "OK, Crazy, clean it out now. Fun's over." He just looked down at the tray quizzically and calculated how much water he should put in with so much cum in there. 

His cock was still hard and pushing against his shorts when he started the breadmaker. Well, he could make some garlic dip...

****************

His mom came back an hour and a half later, and the dough was almost done spinning in the bread machine.

"Mat, come help me with the groceries, will you?"

"Sure, Mom," Mat replied.

Mat went out to the car and grabbed the rest of the groceries. Arms full, he staggered up the front porch and closed the front door with an awkward ninja kick. The groceries were in tall paper bags, but he could still see his mom leaning down to pick up some fallen vegetable cans on the floor. Tits dangling and ass in the air, she looked as inviting as ever. Planning to use the paper bags in his arms as an excuse, Mat walked up behind her and planted his crotch square into her ass for a few seconds and got a good feel.

"Oh! Jeez, sorry, Mom. I didn't see you there."

Pam laughed. "Whoa there, tiger. If you're going to do that, at least give a girl a warning so I can put my hands out to catch myself."

Mat laughed and said, "Sorry," again, putting the groceries on the counter as he did.

"Is the dough almost ready? I'm starving," Pam said standing up, nipples at attention.

"Yeah, it only has a few more minutes."

"Great. This bag here has all the essentials. While you're doing that, I'm going to get into something more comfortable." She turned to walk out of the kitchen but stopped short of the door: "Is this garlic dip?" she asked.

"Yep," Mat said as calmly as he could.

Pam put a finger in the simmering pot and brought it to her lips. "Mm! It's delicious!" She sucked on her finger for a moment and was then reminded of something, though she had no idea why: "Oh! And I almost forgot: Here are some paper towels and tissues for your room. Didn't know what would work best for you, so I got both. I'll go and put them by your bed where you'll be able to get to them easily when you need to."

Mat was red in the face again. She was so nonchalant about him masturbating...That was what she was implying, right?

****************

"Mm, this pizza's delicious!" Pam said next to him as they sat on the couch in the living room. She was back in her grey shorts from that afternoon, but was now wearing a black cotton v-neck shirt showing off a lot of cleavage. They were sitting close to one another watching some romantic comedy on one of the premium channels they got. It was a Friday ritual sort of thing. 

"I'm glad you like it."

"The crust tastes different somehow. Almost sweet. Did you do anything different?

"I tried a different recipe I found online. Actually called for vanilla extract of all things." Mat was a good liar.

"Well it's wonderful. I could eat it all by itself." She then dunked some crust into the 'special' garlic sauce Mat made and took a big bite out of it. Some sauce dropped from the crust and fell onto her chest, sliding down into her cleavage: "Good lord," she said, "I am making a mess of myself." Picking up a napkin and wiping off her chest, she pulled her shirt out and looked down to see if any had slipped further. Mat tried to continue eating and not ogle her conspicuously, but he noticed she had a birthmark on her right tit and it made his heart leap.

"Sorry," Pam said, "Not trying to make you blind."

"Huh?" Mat said, as if he hadn't noticed her tits almost falling out.

"It's hard to keep these things in one place," Pam said, reaching into her shirt and pulling her bra back into place. 

Mat finished eating just before the movie they were watching ended. He was delightfully full and feeling rather content. Watching his mom eat his pizza and slurp on the garlic sauce had made him unbelievably horny, and, yet, strangely satisfied at the same time. It was as if that glow that proceeds a good cum had just now set in. Pam was still eating long after he had stopped: "I really can't get enough of this. You really shouldn't make pizzas this good. You'll make my ass even bigger, if that's possible," she said. Mat laughed. 

"Hey, careful there, young sir," Pam said. "You weren't supposed to laugh 'all knowingly' at that."

"What?" he replied.

"Do you think I have a fat ass? Honestly, should I lose weight?" Pam asked.

"No, I think you're perfect."

"Please, come on, let's be honest with one another. My ass is pretty big." His mom had been drinking off and on that night while eating. She didn't drink often, but, when she did, she became 'Super Honest Mom'. "Here, in case you've forgotten, let me show you." She stood up in front of him with her ass a mere foot away from his face and put her hands on her waist. "See, my ass begins right here," she said pointing to her hips, "and it doesn't end until all the way down here," and she ran her hands slowly and sensually down her ass until her fingertips were at the bottom of her cheeks. "That's a lot of junk. It ain't muscle. See," she said, and she lifted her ass cheeks a few times and let them drop. They jiggled like mounds of jello.

Mat chuckled nervously and shrugged his shoulders. "Mom, I think you look good," he reiterated.

"You're apparently not seeing what I'm seeing. Take one more look," she said as she pulled her shorts up from the top, causing the fabric to ride up her cheeks. She arched her back as she did, and Mat was sure he could see the lips of her pussy and the little pucker of her asshole through her shorts. "That's one big butt, you can't deny that. I probably shouldn't do this to you after eating, but look, it's so big I can even make it clap." She clapped her ass without making any movements with her back or legs. Her ass and upper thighs positively danced before him.

"Uh, you look great," Mat said red in the face. "I don't know how I can convey it to you." Mat had picked up a thin pillow when she pulled her shorts up and had put it on his lap to hide his super hard-on. 

Pam turned and looked at him, her eyes falling to his crotch. Smirking, she sat down and exhaled: "I raised such a gentleman; and a liar, too, it seems."

"I'm not lying. You're a very good looking woman."

"But you said you didn't know how to convey it to me." Mat's face instantly got red. "Anyways, thank you. But I'm pretty sure other guys don't feel the same way as you seem to."

"I don't know about that," Mat said.

"What do you mean?" Pam asked.

Mat hesitated for a moment, but relinquished and said, "OK, I'm going to tell you something, but you have to promise not to freak out."

"OK, sure," Pam said.

"Almost every friend I've ever had has admitted to fantasizing about you," Mat said.

Pam was silent for a moment. "Um...What you mean is they've admitted to masturbating to me?"

"Um, I guess so. Yeah, more or less."

"... Even now?" she asked.

"All of them are at least 18 with raging hormones. Especially now," Mat replied.

"Well, these are probably to blame," Pam said lifting her tits and weighing them in her hands- Mat's eyes and cock widening. "They tend to attract attention."

"Actually, they like your butt. They like both, but they're very verbal about your butt."

"What do they like about it?" Pam asked, unconsciously wiggling her hips; her nipples pushing against her V-neck shirt.

"Honestly? What you don't."

"Meaning...?"

"They like how round it is. They say it's the perfect ghetto booty," Mat said.

Pam flushed and said, "Really? In my days, having a ghetto booty was a bad thing. Now it gives guys hard-ons?"

Mat coughed at his mom using the word 'hard-on' and said, "Yeah, guys are into butts these days."

"Which do you prefer?" Pam asked. "Ass or tits?"

"On you? Totally your ass," Mat said, instantly realizing his mom was talking about girls in general.

Pam smirked and raised her eyebrows. "Why thank you. Not exactly what I meant, but thank you. So you also like my ass? It's wasn't really your friends we were just talking about, was it?"

Red in the face, Mat said, "No, my friends have admitted to jerking off to you."

Pam smiled warmly at him and asked, "And you?" Mat blushed and didn't say anything. "It's OK, honey. It's quite flattering to know that I have that effect on you."

"Really?" Mat asked.

"Uh-huh." Mat's heart slowed down in anticipation. Pam put her left arm over his shoulder and scooted in close to him. Her tits pressing into his chest, she started rubbing his inner thigh and asked, "So, do you jerk off to me? Be honest, do you?"

"Um... yeah... I have a few times."

"You jerk off to other girls, too, though, right? Not just me..."

"Oh, of course," Mat said, lying. 

"Good. A little bit I can understand. Freud said it's completely natural, of course, as has every other psychologist. But, still, you have to be interested in girls your own age. Healthy girls, not some dried up old hag like me."

"Hey, I won't have you talking about my mom that way!" Mat jokingly exclaimed.

"I'm serious! Young girls need to be ravished, too. Otherwise, when you get older, there won't be any horny milfs like me walking around anymore, because there won't be any women who appreciate a good, hard cock." Mat's heart fluttered and his cock became a raging bar of steel in his pants. "Whoa, I'm being way too honest right now. I should probably shut up before I reveal how much of a slut I am." She hiccupped and visibly wavered on the couch. "Man, I am really feeling it tonight." She looked at the pillow resting on her son's lap and smiled: "We're going to need another Friday ritual if I'm going to drink myself into a drunken stupor every time. Do you mind if I put my head on your lap? I'm feeling really disoriented."

Almost recovered, Mat replied, "No, go right ahead. Mind if I change the channel? Movie's over, and the next one doesn't look like any count."

"Sure. I don't care what we watch, just as long as you don't go anywhere," she said as she put her head on his lap and pulled her feat up on the couch. 

Her face pointed to the TV, Mat now stared at her voluptuous body without restraint. He just wanted to reach out and grope every part of her. Instead, he rested his right hand on her side and tried to watch the TV. Pam immediately took his hand and pulled it up to her upper stomach so it was grazing the bottom of her tits. She pressed it hard against herself and moaned softly. 

Resting in such a provocative pose, Mat noticed that the bottom of her shorts had ridden far up her ass. They were so far up that he wondered how she was even comfortable. He was thus soon again fighting another losing battle against the growing hard-on in his shorts. He was worried his mom would feel it poking against her cheek and freak out; instead, she didn't seem to notice anything; if she did she gave no sign of noticing. She just laid there and squeezed his hand up against her, breathing softly. 

Mat changed the channel to a movie station right when a new program was coming on. He didn't know what it was, but a parental warning came up moments before the WARNING: STRONG SEXUAL CONTENT label flashed across the screen. Pam said, "Ooh, these are always fun."

"You want me to keep it here?"

"Please, I know you want to. Don't worry. We're both adults here, right?"

"I guess so."

It was a 'documentary' about social taboos. One of the segments centered on older females and younger males.

"Hmm, oddly appropriate, don't you think?" Pam said and squeezed Mat's hand, pulling and pressing it closer to her. Mat could feel the softness and warmth of his mom's stomach and the outer edges of her tits grazing his knuckles.

After some jazz music and sporadic shots of people hanging out in clubs and having drinks, the camera switched to a guy in his early twenties:

"'Yeah, I've been sleeping with older women for some time now. Started when I was in college. I was having trouble getting laid, so I went online and found a free message board for 'casual encounters' in my area. I posted an ad along with a picture of me and my cock, and I got five responses that night. Three of them were of older women, and a couple of BBWs in their late twenties. The one that stood out the most, though, was a woman in her early forties. Writing was sensual, and the pictures...very provocative. So I wrote her back and we met up that Friday.

"'I think she sensed I was a virgin, because she took things slow. We first went to her couch, had a few drinks, and talked for a while. I was so nervous, though, that my hands were shaking, and I was having trouble lifting up my wine glass to my lips without spilling any. But she noticed and just smiled. It was great. Then she started kissing me and rubbing my chest. I loved it, but I was, for some reason, still afraid to reach out and touch her; so, she scooted in close and pressed her big tits against my chest, continuing to kiss me slowly and sensually. I'd never been kissed like that- and it actually almost made me cum. Slowly she unzipped my pants and took out my cock, and started stroking me- our lips never breaking contact. She must have known I was going to cum fast the first time because she was unfazed when I came. She smiled, stood up and got a washcloth, and cleaned me up. Then she immediately started sucking on my cock, and I was hard again within moments. Cock fully erect, she hiked up her skirt and jumped on top of me without a condom. We fucked for over an hour. It was easily the greatest night of my life up till that point. And that's...that's the sort of behavior I've noticed with older woman. They love cock. They don't care about the usual stupid things that younger women do. They just want sex and sexual contact. And they don't feel like they're giving you anything they themselves don't want.'"