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Note

By: ulboquet



After sipping the last of his Earl Grey, Alexander sat before his desk and sighed. His candle, freshly lit, revealed a man of many accomplishments. His workspace was lined with gold bound editions of the volumes upon volumes of text he authored in areas ranging from logic to mathematics to children’s literature. He had spent many years translating the Bible to his right into four different languages, and his ashen face reflected the rigors of his work. Years had been taken from him and his body reflected every one of those years. He had become as cold and unforgiving as the snow which was falling heavily outside in the bleak English countryside. He set numerous blank pages before him, pages that he felt needed to be filled before the candle burned its last. Opening the drawer, he placed at his left the instruments of his art: an inkwell and a quill, but in the far corner of the drawer was the pistol that had served him well in war and perhaps would find some grand use again. Hunching over his papers he feverishly brought pen to ink and began his inscriptions as zealous as a medieval monk pondering the works of Aristotle. Before long, his wife entered the room to remind him of dinner. Her eyes sparkled as she saw the man she loved hard at play, as so many times before. 

“Alexander, what sort of business are you up to now? A play perhaps?” Without even lifting his head or pausing to ease his wrist he replied, “My greatest work yet and ever to be.” She smiled and took dinner in her chamber. She had grown to understand and to accept the realities of their relationship: his work took precedence over all else. Her needs, unfortunately, had forced her to take full advantage of his mental absence.   Alexander knew very well the subtle signals she had given him. If he would not pleasure her then surely she had the right to quell her thirst at another well. It was for this reason alone that he sat hour after painstaking hour writing what would very well be the culmination of an illustrious career with the quill. His brow furrowed ever more intensely as he wrote at a more urgent and desperate pace. He seemed to race the dawn, racing to an end no less dramatic than the magnificence of the rising sun. 

Alexander never once questioned his purpose, he lived to write not for others but for himself. He had lost a great many friends in his lust. Constant contemplation and deep thought possessed him through his life and guided him and never would he have doubted what he did was right. The woman could not understand and, in his twisted mind, refused to understand that he belonged at work, not at play. The soft moans emanating from the master chamber grew louder, and there was no way of telling now if those screams were human. As the cries of pleasure grew, his pace increased. At length there was the sound of a door opening and closing, and he was now alone.  Into the witching hour did he write, and then on into the dark morning hours. Alexander had never desired food or drink before his work, and it would be the same this night. His wife had long been away, no doubt courting some teenage boy that was drunk with lust. His fears were confirmed as he did not raise his head but merely listened to the sound of drunken laughter filling the cold hallways and then a door was closed again. The moans resumed their ferocity and it was at this moment that Alexander paused to grip his pistol tightly. Taking a few moments to collect himself, he briskly rose from his seat, pistol in hand. The chamber door was opened yet again and two well-aimed shots were fired. He resumed his practice just as swiftly as he had left it.

The infidelity, the lies, the frigid home that would not be warmed by a mere flame, none of these things concerned him. The candle, at length, burned down to the very bottom. The wax had continuously spilled across his papers, but that would not slow the great Alexander at all. It flickered once more before snuffing out for want of wax. Alexander immediately halted his endeavor. He put away his inkwell and his quill, putting an end to over eight hours of nearly constant writing. In the drawer, in the cold dark night, he could not see but could only feel the pistol. It felt warm to him, the only warmth that permeated the perpetual winter of the house. He picked it up and sighed as he did before he began. A shot rang out in the night. 

Note on the Car



After an exhausting day at work you are ready to relax and listen to your book. You get into your car and see a note on your windshield, stepping out of your car; you reach around and grab it. As you sit back down and crank the car you begin to read.

The note made you smile. You could tell by the pink paper that it was from me and when you read it, your smile got even bigger. In the note I told you to hurry home for a quickie before you picked up the children. Quickly you cranked the car, roll down your window, and hit the gas. With the breeze blowing your hand, you enjoy this moment of anticipation. You get home faster than you realized and when you pulled into the driveway, you see my car, parked on the street. Trying to see me, you walk up to my car only to find me gone. Puzzled you walk to the front door and see that it's open.

Not sure what to think, you push the door and walk in. Looking down the hall to the kitchen you see the light on and wonder. When you get to the kitchen you see 2 glasses of your favorite margaritas and another note! This note told you to take the drinks upstairs to the bathroom. You can hear the water running as you climb the stairs. Turning into your bedroom and then your bathroom you almost drop the glasses when you see me. I am sitting in your tub where the water level is just full enough so you can see the top of my chest.

You take a large sip of your drink and set them both down as I send you a devilish smile. You see my hands rise out of the water caressing my soft breasts. I see you getting hard in your shorts so I stand up and as you watch the bubbles slide down my wet, shimmering body you almost loose control. Hurriedly, you take your shirt off and push your shorts and boxers down. Your sexy chest causes my pussy to swell for you and when we finally reach each other, you take me in your arms and kiss me.

My hot, wet body presses against yours. I feel my nipples harden with desire as our kiss intensifies. Your kisses always get me worked up. You slide your hands down my back and grab my ass, when it tightens in your hands, you pull my hips up to you and I feel your hard cock rub against my heat.

Enjoying the feeling of ecstasy, you turn your head to the side, which allows me a chance to kiss your neck. You feel my lips gently slide up and down your neck, then I move my hands to your chest. My tits slide down your chest as my lips begin to explore your stomach. Circling your belly button I move lower until I find your swollen cock, waiting and wanting. With both hands I grab it and begin to stroke it tightly, still a little wet from my bath water, my hands move easily over you. I can see wetness pouring from you and I begin to gently lick you. Rolling my tongue around your tip and sucking up your juices.

You pull away from me and get on your knees with me and begin to kiss my neck. I arch my back and present my full breasts to you, begging you to suck them. You see how hard they are and begin to crave them. As your mouth moves to them I close my eyes and melt into you. The sexiest man alive is devouring me and my heart is beating wildly! I run my fingers through your hair and begin to moan. Giving each breast full attention I whisper in your ear that I need you to take me before I explode.

You stand, delicately take my hand and lead me to your bed. Before you let me lay down, you stand behind me and run your hands down my back, sending chills through me as you reach my ass. With both hands you grab it and I start to giggle with pleasure. I feel your fingers trace around my butterfly before you turn me around.

Now facing each other, you put your hand on the small of my back and guide me back onto the bed. You kiss my thighs and when you reach my pussy, your strong hands push me open and I feel your tongue glide up and down me. With my fingers laced in your hair I guide your movement until I can't stand it anymore. You start to feel my pussy tighten around your tongue as I tell you to fuck me. 

You don't have to be told twice, so quickly you move up my body and slide into me. I moan loudly as you enter me. My heat and wetness surround you as you begin to pound me. I open my eyes and gaze at this amazing man making love to me. Your eyes close with pleasure and your lips part as you enjoy yourself. I grab my tits and before I know it, I explode. Your eyes open when you feel me climaxing around you. You see me bighting my lip and squeezing my nipples tightly.

You love feeling me tighten and pulse around you and the wetter I got the faster you were able to thrust in me. Finally, as my pussy clamed down I told you to roll over and sit on the edge of the bed. I stood in front of you, nipples still hard from your talent, as you gaze upon me. Your eyes move from my toes up, pausing at my bare canvas. When our eyes meet I move to you and begin to kiss you and I feel your hands move down my sides and slide between my legs. When you reach my clit, your fingers enter me, reminding me of how much I need you. I move closer and sit on your lap. Slowly I lower my pussy around your cock, you smile at me. I absolutely adore your smile. Riding you, I press my tits against your hot chest and you begin to nibble at my neck. Getting turned on again, I start to ride you faster and the more you nibbled me the more hot I got until finally I climax again! This time, you release into me at the same time. Feeling you pulse into me brings feelings of erotica into my soul. I passionately kiss you as you finish in me.

Our breathing labored and our chests pounding, we hold each other for what seems like an eternity. The safest place in the world for me is in your arms.



Note to a Friend



Hey,

Just thought I would tell you some things that have been going on for awhile. I didn't want to be the one to drop the bomb but you should probably know why your wife is so tired. There is no good way to say it but while you're at work she has been getting fucked continuously! She just can't seem to get enough; she begs for it! I guess I should start at the beginning though.

Remember when I moved in with you last summer? I didn't want to but you insisted. Well I noticed your wife smiling at me a lot so to be polite I would smile back. In fact, every time I looked at her she would make eye contact with me; even when you were in the room. 

Well one of those hot summer nights I was sitting on your couch and you were in one chair and she was in another. It was so hot that night that we were all in shorts and tee-shirts but I wasn't wearing underwear. I noticed that your wife kept staring at me; I think she was trying to get an outline of my cock through my shorts!

You started to nod off and she got up and went into the kitchen. I went back to watching the movie and about 20 minutes later you were dozing. Your wife returned from the kitchen with her hair pulled back and a Popsicle in her hand but instead of sitting back in the chair she plopped down one the other end of the couch. I couldn't help but notice that when she did, she must have removed her bra because when she hit the couch her beautiful tits bounced under her shirt! She knew I noticed because my eyes got big and she just grinned a little. I went back to watching my movie, but out of the corner of my eye I could see her start to lick that Popsicle.

I tried not to watch her but she was very animated as she assaulted that frozen stick and she was staring right at my crotch! Well you probably know how good she could suck that thing, she would slowly lick up one side and swirl her tongue around the end then push it between her lips and engulf it in a slow descent sucking hard as she pushed it deep in her throat. 

Then she would hold it there and moan around it and slowly pull it back out while she keep incredible sucking power on it until it passed her lips. When she reached the tip again, she would swirl her tongue around it again all while she was burning a hole in my crotch with her stare.

Well buddy, I have to say that what she was doing was turning me on big time and I wanted my cock to be that Popsicle so bad. I couldn't help but start to get hard and she knew what effect she was having on me. I think she really liked it because the harder my cock got the better she could see it in my shorts and the faster she assaulted the Popsicle. 

I noticed that the more my cock swelled, the harder her nipples got and in no time my cock was so stiff that the head was peeking out of the leg of my shorts. She noticed too because she adjusted herself and put on leg up on the couch so that her foot was just inches away from the throbbing head of my cock. She was driving me fucking insane and she knew that she was being a cock tease! 

By the way, your wife has the sexiest fucking long legs! Anyway, while she was sitting there assaulting the Popsicle, she looked over at you to make sure you were asleep and let her leg slip just enough for her toes to barely touch the end of my cock. Then, she would wiggle her toes on the tip of my cock just to see how much she could drive me insane! 

I thought I was going to blow my wad and my cock started twitching like crazy which caused it to strain against her toes. That made her start to breathe faster and heavier and I noticed that her crotch was soaked all the way through her shorts, which were now riding up exposing a good part of her tight sexy ass!

I tried to adjust myself but it just exposed more of my cock! She took full advantage of that fact and let her foot rest against the exposed shaft! I let out a moan which I thought would wake you but you didn't stir. Then as she watched you, she started stroking the full length of my cock with her foot in rhythm with giving her Popsicle a first class blow job! She was relentless on stroking my cock, applying pressure as she ground her foot against my shaft and worked my balls with her toes! She wouldn't stop; she was like a woman possessed!

I think she liked my cock because she looked straight at it smile and licked her lips as she let out an "ooooh". Then she grabbed as much of the head as she could fit between her two toes and pinched as hard as she could, stroking it fast which caused me to cum all over her foot! She reached down and got some on her index finger and sucked it deep inside her lips moaning as she did.

After that she suddenly jumped up lifted up her shirt and flashed me her tits then woke you up and headed you toward the bedroom where I am sure she fucked you long and hard! The next morning while you were taking out the garbage she grabbed me and gave me a deep kiss and whispered to me, "We are not done yet I have to have that big cock of yours". Then she grabbed my crotch and gave it a squeeze! And we were far from done....but that is the next story!



Note to a Lover



Before I settle into bed, I often think of you. I undress slowly, unbuttoning my shirt, the lull of sleepiness surrounds my body and mind. My delicate fingers push each button through each hole with waited effort, and my mind wanders to thoughts of you laying on the bed watching me undress. 

I turn to you. I like seeing your smile, a mischievous smirk. I want to show you all of me. To feel your eyes on me, to see the excitement in them as my shirt opens to show you my full breasts supported by my black lace bra. I take the clip out of my hair releasing my wavy brown locks past my shoulders and to the side of my face. They caress my cheek, just as your hand would. I smile at you, and lay the clip down on a night stand, then back up slowly so you can still enjoy the view.

My shirt opens and falls off of me. I reach behind my back and unclasp my bra. My breasts, beautiful and full, hang freely as I cup my hands around them to massage and squeeze playfully. Your legs are open, the sheets are down but not covering you. Your cock is hard in your hand.

I scoot my skirt down and let it drop just like my shirt. I'm before you now, supple and soft, curvy and full, wanting you. I keep my black lace panties on. I want you to be the one to take them off. 

Scooping up my clothes, I'm back in my own room without you there. I put them in the laundry basket, turn off my lamp and climb into my bed. Sometimes the nightstand lamp is on, sometimes it's not. My light orb is though and tonight I keep it on the color red, though I've also changed it to purple and blue on occasion but tonight I want to feel warm.

This time of night is my favorite. It's when I plug in my phone to charge it and I look to see if I've received a message from you. Sometimes I read over our conversations, other times I just say goodnight, send and roll over to imagine you beside me.

Your arms welcome me to your chest. I snuggle between your neck and your collarbone. Smell you, kiss you softly and let you wrap your arms around me. My breast rest against your side, our combined heat warming our bodies, encouraging me to melt into you, breathe with you and listen to your heartbeat.

I raise my leg and straddle my body pillow as if it were your legs. My pussy lips caress the side of the pillow and the friction awakens my desires. I rub against it and allow the fantasy to begin...

You've rolled me onto my back. You look at me intently, deeply into my eyes as your hands explore my body. I quiver with your touch as you build my anticipation; your fingers lightly tracing my lips, my breast, my stomach, my hips, in between my thighs and on the outer edges of my pussy lips. I can feel myself become wet, even though you have not spread them yet. 

You lean in and kiss me. 'Is this what you need?" you ask. I bite my lip and respond by nodding my head. You spread my pussy lips with your fingers and find my clit. At first, you tease me by just tapping the tip lightly and then you pinch the fullness of it between your thumb and index finger. I moan, the feeling is exquisite. You pinch again, pulsing and fast, fast and slow. My eyes roll back. The waves of pleasure build. 'Look at me!" you say bringing me back to you, to your eyes, so caring, so beautiful in their color; a greenish blue that reminds me of mountain lake in Colorado.

You slip your fingers down towards my opening, gathering my juices as you go. You stop before penetrating and lift my chin with your other hand. You kiss me and open my mouth with your tongue as you slide your finger inside of my pussy. I moan but you muffle it with your mouth, your tongue deep inside me as your finger starts to fuck me. 

I suck on your tongue gently and we moan together. You insert another finger and rest your palm against my clit, pressing on it and then pounding against it as you finger fuck me faster. You can feel my walls surround your fingers and the need to be inside me grows. You straddle my leg. I can feel your hot, hard cock against me and it arouses me more. You sense my need and grab the cuffs on the nightstand, locking my wrists above my head. You grab the blindfold and gently cover my eyes as you kiss me again.

You move down between my legs, and spread them wide. My clit is so hard and swollen. You can't keep yourself from tasting it with your tongue. You flick my erect clit, teasing it tenderly and then begin to suck. I'm overcome with waves of pleasure. I start to shake. You hold my legs down and open your mouth to drink in my whole smooth, soaked pussy. You alternate fucking me with your tongue and fingers. I want the hardness of your cock so bad, I'm withering beneath you but you won't give in to my whimpers. 

You move me around to the edge of the bed so my head is hanging off and my hands are still bound but close to touching the floor. I feel you open my mouth with the tip of your penis. I open and suck your head. I can hear you moan as you lay down on top of me and start sucking my clit again as you face fuck me. I moan and open my mouth wider to take more of you. I can feel your full balls smack against my forehead as you thrust gently. I moan with each suck and you feel my vibrations. You suck harder and faster on my clit. The intensity builds for both of us. My saliva gushes from my lips, wetting your cock so it slides in and out of my mouth effortlessly.

"Oh, fuck!" you exclaim and stop abruptly to prolong our experience. You slide your cock out of my mouth and lift me back onto the bed. You undo my cuffs and take my blindfold off. "Is that what you need?" I ask and you respond by kissing me and saying yes.

You roll onto your back and I cuff your wrists above your head. I can't help from being playful so I dangle my breasts in your face as I get you into position. You reach for them with your mouth and I let you suck them for a bit. Then, I raise up, kiss you gently and pull the blindfold over your head, covering your beautiful blue eyes.

You smile. Your lips so enticing. I move over to the table and pull out the soft leather flog. I let the straps explore your body delicately moving my instrument all over you like a soft feather, pausing at your nipples and lightly tapping them. You lick your lips to show me that you want more. I slap them against your chest. The sting seen by the red marks on your raised flesh. Your cock responds by getting thicker for me. 

I walk around to the foot of the bed allowing the flog to caress your hard cock and balls. I raise my hand up and whip you on your thigh. Your penis moves, almost as if it was flinching. It brings a mischievous smile to my face. I tell you to turn over onto your stomach. You do so without question. I take my hand and massage your ass cheeks as I let the leather straps caress your back lightly. Then, without warning, I smack your ass three times. You moan with pleasure. 

I grab the lube on the table and squirt some between your ass cheeks. I then grab the butt plug and lube it up to before I slowly insert it into you as it vibrates rhythmically. Once it's in all the way, I tell you to turn over. Your cock is so hard it's throbbing. This whole time my body has been aching for you and I need you to fill me. I climb onto the bed and straddle your hips. I lower myself down onto you slowly. The thickness of your cock taking my breath away as I take you inside of me. My tight pussy surrounding and clenching you as I sit all the way down. 

I ride you as the butt plug penetrates your asshole. You thrust against me and I meet each one, gliding up and down your shaft. You hot cock inside of me, fucking me deep. I pound against you and ride you hard. You tell me how good it feels, how you love feeling my pussy surround you and pulse. I lean on top of you so my clit can receive the friction and pounding it needs. 

My breasts hang and smack your face as I thrust forward and back. You tell me to take the blindfold off and I comply. Then the handcuffs, "I need to hold you!" I release your wrists and you grab my head holding it to yours fucking me fast and deep. I start to cum. You can feel me tighten around your cock as I climb to ecstasy. You release into me, thrusting your cock hard as I push down onto you so I can feel the tip of your cock head against my cervix. 

"Oh fuck!" we both exclaim, shaking together. I grind into your pelvis to control my orgasm as it peaks to encompass my whole body. We kiss. I raise off of you, allowing your cock to relax and pull out the plug before I lay my head on your chest, your arms surrounding me, your mouth kissing my face and finding my lips. 

Our kisses, firm yet gentle, loving and tender continue through the night until we both drift off to sleep.



Note to a New Friend



William,

As you can probably tell, I was in quite a hurry getting that last email out. Busy time at home so I had to be brief.

You mentioned some fun activities, some that I've tried and some I'd like to enjoy. 

I've got some time in the tub now before work. Everybody else is out the door for a trip to Seattle today. So I'm going to take this opportunity to share my fantasy with you.

My dream is to spend a weekend at a place like LaPush or Ocean Shores with another man. Maybe some time on the beach or fishing and then back to the room for some relaxing time in the hot tub. We'd soak and talk while our bodies randomly connect. Our feet, legs and hands casually caressing each other. Who knows, maybe we'd even kiss a bit...

I'd lean down and cup your breast in my hand as I touch your nipple with the tip of my tongue. Slowly flicking it until my lips surround and engulf your nipple suckling it with ever increasing force. Occasionally stopping to nibble and pull a bit before continuing to suckle.

Reaching down with my hand I touch your now rapidly growing manhood feeling your warm loose sack with my fingers as my thumb runs from the tip of your cock down along the length of its hardness. I continue to caress an stroke your cock as I suckle your nipple until I feel compelled to move you up to sit on the edge of the tub. As I arrange myself between your legs I'm now face to face with the true object of my desire! With my left hand I cup your balls as I slowly stroke your cock with my right. I'm just mesmerized by this beautiful sight. I'm holding your gorgeous purple pillar of manhood in my hands just inches from my face. My breathing is deeper now. I'm in a trance as I watch my hand slowly glide up and down the length of your cock. It's so beautiful. You widen your legs. I move closer and slide my left hand further under your balls. I can now feel the warmth of your cock on my face. I continue to stroke. 

Moving my left hand up from it's place on your balls I slowly bring my fingers to my mouth. Still stroking your cock I wet my fingers and bring them back to your ball sack and continue to move down until I touch your anus. Stroking your cock with my right my left begins to awaken the senses of your backside. I can tell by your labored breathing that this is moving in a direction that you are enjoying. Your cock jumps each time I probe a little deeper into your rosebud. 

I'm still staring at your cock. It is in it's full glory now. The purple head is gleaming and the first droplet of precum makes it's appearance. I take that as my cue and slowly lean in as I pull the head towards my lips. 

It's like time has stood still. I'm not breathing. Oh my god. I'm going to taste this beautiful cock! My head is spinning.

I regain my composure and part my lips as my mouth meets the head of your penis. I dart my tongue at the droplet on the tip and my whole mouth follows to engulf your cockhead. I begin to suck and swirl my tongue around the head. It's wet and warm and heavy and spongy...so much stimulation. I can only hope that you are enjoying this as much as I am right now! I continue to stroke and suck and swirl. Your hips are starting to move to a rhythm. As I enjoy the sensations in my mouth my finger slides deeper into your ass. Past the sphincter and straight to your walnut. I'm now massaging your prostate as your cock pushes deeper and deeper into my mouth. Your cock feels wonderful on my tongue and now my throat. (I expected more resistance from my gag reflex but I guess all the practice on my wife's dildo has paid off!)

You lean back on your elbows now. Your breathing increases. I can feel your leg muscles begin to twitch. I continue to probe your butt, gently but vigorously. I'm sliding hy head up and down the entire length of your cock effortlessly now and you're rocking your hips meeting every stroke. My right hand is caressing your balls. 

You begin to moan. I feel your prostate harden against my fingertip. Your balls become tight. Your cock is so hot and solid now! I know that I'm about to receive the prize. My moment of glory is upon me. Your breathing stops. I feel the spasms begin from your ass through your balls and all the way up the length of your shaft. Your first spurts are strong and huge! Hot streams of glorious man milk! Oh my god! It's wonderful!

You're filling my throat with your seed. Spasm after spasm. I'm swallowing as fast as I can while still sucking and stroking. I'm in heaven. My mouth is full. I feel so alive!

As your orgasm subsides I continue to gently suck and caress. Eventually I release your cock from my mouth and you slide back into the tub.

We kiss.

But again, for now it's just erotic notes.

Bryan



Note To Black Women & White Men



Dear Black woman, I want you to know this. I'm in love with you. I think I'm in love with you. I want to be in love with you. Am I in love with you? Can I love you? Can you love me? I don't know. So many questions. Who am I? I'm the Brother with the Ivy League MBA who's leading a Fortune Five Hundred company into the twenty-first century. I'm the Brother who's smiling at you on the bus while wearing my Sean John's. I'm the Brother sitting in class at our town's community college, making goo-goo eyes at you. I'm the shy and totally square guy who suddenly dresses up thuggishly just to impress you because I overheard you say you like guys with edge. I'm the guy who's knocking dudes down like beach balls as I charge through the football field. I'm the nerdy guy with thick glasses pining for you in Sunday school. I'm the quiet deacon in church who always has a kind word for you when you enter. 

I'm the old Brother in the barber shop who nods at you as you come in to pick up your son. I'm the Brother sitting in the back of the bus, astonished as you and your girlfriends say that all Black men are useless and that White men are perfect. I'm the Brother sitting in the President's Office in the White House, wondering how to fix a country. I'm the law-abiding Brother who just received some unkind words from a racist cop before he or she drove off, allowing me to keep my freedom and my life but robbing me of a piece of my dignity. I'm the Brother sitting in the restaurant with a White woman who's gay and just a friend of mine as you and your sisters walk through and shoot me a nasty glare. I'm the Brother you flash a look of superiority to as you suddenly grope your White boyfriend as you see me coming. I'm the Brother working two jobs to pay for my university education and yet I get looks of anger and disappointment from sisters as I walk down the street or through campus. I'm the Brother who gives up his seat for a sister and holds a door for her, only to get a surprised look from her.

I'm the Brother with the big dick starring in a porno movie, having sex with Black women, Hispanic women, White women and Asian women because to White audiences I'm a savage with a big dick and nothing more. I'm the Brother shaking my head as I watch sisters give up on Brothers. I'm the Brother who asked for your number and you started laughing in my face. I'm the Brother you sneered at as you sat on a White guy's lap. I'm the Brother who walked into the club with the Chinese chick and got a nasty look from you even as you did the bump and grind with a Hispanic guy. I'm the bisexual Brother who wants to tell you the truth about myself but I think you would reject me if you know so I keep my secret to myself. I worry about my health and well-being. I practice safe sex. I'm careful. And I haven't been with a dude ever since you came into my life, with your hot female sensuality and power. I'm still bisexual Brother but I love my woman and I want to be faithful to her. Does that count for anything? Or must you dismiss me as a freak simply because I was born different? I didn't choose this crap I swear! I'm the Brother in the police uniform who got a shady look from you because you assume I'm The Man's Rottweiler, hating on my Brothers and sisters just because I'm a cop.

I'm the Brother sitting in the therapist's office, wondering why I can't find love with a sister ( or with anyone) even though I'm a decent-looking, healthy, college-educated Brother with a good job, a nice apartment, a decent car and a clean record....oh, and I don't have any offspring yet either. Magazines and television programs tell me that as a single Black male with a college degree, a job and no brats, I'm supposed to be a magnet for Black women. What the heck? Sisters don't even notice I exist! I'm the good Brother, I swear. And if they do notice I exist, it's to shoot me a negative look as I dress up and head to work. Why do you assume that whenever a Brother finishes college and gets a good job he always ditches Black women for the nearest blonde-haired White chick? Sisters, you don't know what us Brothers talk about when you're not around. White women STILL switch sidewalks when they see Brothers coming. Think we LIKE that shit? Hell no! Only a small percentage of White women go for the Brothers, and only a small percentage of Brothers go for White women. Historically, more Black women have ( willingly or unwillingly) shared the beds of White men than Black men have shared the beds of White women. Yet you call us sell-outs. At the same time, you parade up and down with White men, treat them better than you would ever treat a Brother, and then get mad when the Brothers date and marry women of other races.

Want to know what Brothers fear? It's not racist cops who pump ninety nine bullets into innocent, unarmed and law-abiding young Black men and then claim it was self-defence. It's not bigoted White women falsely accusing us of rape. It's not the fact that out of all groups among humanity, supposedly we die the earliest. We take those grim statistics with a grain of salt. After all, the rulers of Europe, the United States of America, Canada, Australia and New Zealand always blame the Brothers for crime and poverty in minority communities but never admit that White men who lose their jobs tend to go home to shoot their wives and brats. Oh, yeah. You didn't know that one, did you? White men lead the world...in job loss-related suicides. They lead the world...in lining up to get neutered ( sorry, I meant vasectomies) even though a link has been established between vasectomies and a higher risk for prostate cancer. White women admit that oftentimes, the Brothers are nicer and more romantic with them than White men. Yet you'll never hear a sister say that a SINGLE Brother has treated her right in her entire life. It's almost as if sisters feel that the sky will fall if they admit that certain Brothers are actually decent.

Black men are the loneliest beings on God's green earth sometimes. I admit it. The whole world seems against us sometimes. Fake-smiling White women. Gun-toting and trigger-happy, racist and insecure White men. Oh, yeah. White male insecurity is a big thing these days. With women and so-called minorities becoming the majority of the work force in most developed countries, White men face a future where the powers holders won't necessary be from that wonderful bracket of White pseudo-masculinity. White women aren't content with being arm candy. They want a shot at being police chiefs, firefighter captains, corporate CEOs, senior partners at law firms and college presidents too. And they aspire to become president and prime minister in most of the world's top nations. White men HATE playing second fiddle. Most men, including Black men, also hate coming in second in front of women of any color but White men are addicted to power. And all those who hold onto power for too long are deathly afraid to lose it. To them, it's like saying the sun will not rise again.

White men with Black girlfriends or Black wives prefer dealing with those sisters who can't stand Black men because the presence of Black men makes ninety point nine percent of all White men nervous. We're too masculine. We have too much swagger. It's a male thing. The sister with the White boyfriend or White husband can't have too many male cousins, Brothers or other male relatives. And if she does, then he must isolate her from them because he's scared of them. Even if most of them really don't give a damn about who he sleeps with. The Brothers aren't player haters for the most part. The Brother whining about the Black woman who left him for Whitey gets told to shut up by the other Brothers. We tell him to move on. We are not insecure or anxious. In fact, our very presence provokes anxiety and insecurity among males of other races whether we like it or not.

White men are especially nervous around Black men. Long before money was invented and civilization was founded, men seized each other up by looking. Before they fought, they analyzed each other to gauge who might be stronger, faster and tougher. The truth is that Black men are built like warriors, a remnant from our ancient African ancestors who survived in a ruthless environment. White men aren't built like warriors. They're built like cunning spies, traitors, manipulators and backstabbers. Always about treacherous tactics rather than pure strength. Strength is something they lack. And not just physically. Take away a Black man's job and he will find something else to do. He will look deep within himself. He will find the will to continue. He knows that what makes him a man is not his job or his bank account. It's not what's between his legs either. It's his whole being, his heart and his soul. A White man who loses his job loses all sense of worth. To him, it's like being castrated and finding out he's got terminal cancer on the same day. He falls apart. His world has come crashing down. And he must take down his wife and offspring with him. He's the savage, not us. Just ask the ancestors of natives whom he slaughtered across the globe. 

I'm told that Europe has a diversity problem. Apparently, the grandsons and granddaughters of African immigrants, Asian immigrants and Arab immigrants who came to Britain, Germany, Spain and other countries decades ago are reproducing much faster than the White men and White women of Europe. White men in Europe are especially distressed to hear that more than forty percent of Black males in the United Kingdom have White girlfriends or White wives, and they tend to produce more mixed-race offspring with these White women than White guys produce all-White offspring with White women. So they try their usual divide and conquer bullshit. Try to convince the Asians and the Arabs that the Black man is a savage. Unfortunately for them, minorities in Europe and North America have learned that to White men, all non-Whites are the same thing, a threat. That's why Blacks, Asians and Arabs united to riot against the racist White police force in London after an innocent Afro-Caribbean man was shot to death by the cops. Men from so-called minority communities in Europe and North America are winning the war against racist White men by having more offspring, both with minority ladies and with willing White women. The White guys can't stand this. The funny thing is that even White men with Asian girlfriends and White men with Black wives can't stand to see a White woman with a Black male. 

The insecurities of White males have no bounds. When married to Asian women, they demand to be worshiped completely. Also, the Asian lady in question must stop speaking Chinese, Korean, Japanese or whatever and embrace Whiteness. Also, the Asian woman who is married to a White male had better not be more educated or successful than he is. His ego is the most fragile of all and can't take it. Same thing when the White male is married to a Black lady. She must distance herself from all Black males. It's preferable if she's the kind of dumb, damaged, self-loathing sister who hates Black men more than the police does. If she's a smart Black woman who's educated, and comes from a strong household with a loving Black father and doting Black mother, the White man knows he must navigate carefully. Such a Black woman might not see all White men as perfect demigods sent from heaven and visualize Black men as savage beasts whom she must hate. The White man always sows discord among those he targets. If he can't, like in the case of the Black woman who has positive relationships with her Black father and doesn't hate all Black men in her age group, he ( the White man) will try to play nice. All the while, in his heart of hearts, he wants to separate her from her own. Make her embrace Whiteness. And above all else, he will raise their mixed sons and daughters to see themselves as White or White-ish. 

No White man wants to raise his mixed-race son to be a strong Black man. There's nothing he finds more than threatening. It's downright scary to him. A spitting cobra doesn't frighten him half as much. The White man's tactic of raising his mixed offspring to embrace Whiteness and distance themselves from their African heritage usually works better on their daughters than their sons. The daughters of White fathers and Black mothers seldom date Black men. Why? Their White father fears Black men. And their Black mother usually has nothing positive to say about the Brothers, that's why she dated/married Whitey in the first place. By sharp contrast, Black men with White girlfriends or White wives raise their mixed sons and mixed daughters to embrace their African heritage. Case in point? U.S. President Barack Hussein Obama identifies as Black, and that's mainly because his mother was White and his father was Black. Had his father been White and his mother Black, he would have distanced himself from all things Black. He would have chased someone like Faith Hill instead of Michelle Robinson. Face the facts.

The world we live in is a complicated place. My fellow Black men and I are just people looking for love. Just like everybody else. Our main problem is that everybody else seems out to get us. Including Black women. I encourage my Brothers out there to love themselves because no one else will. Many Black women hate us Brothers more than the racist cops do. To those Black women who still love Black men, I thank you. It's not easy loving a man who's got all of planet Earth gunning for him 24/7. To those White women who dare to love a Black man, I thank you as well. You know the extent of White men's racism and insecurity better than anyone because ALL White men have White mothers. A Black man can have a Black father and a White mother, an Asian mother, a Hispanic mother, a Native American mother or an Arabic mother but a White man must have a White mother and a White father. Otherwise White society will classify him as "one of the others". The White man knows how vulnerable his genetic makeup is. And he guards his genetic patrimony fiercely, though it's a war he's destined to lose. Nine out of ten times if a man goes to the doctor and finds out he's sterile, that man is C.A.U.C.A.S.I.A.N. Say what you will about Black men and other minority males, we got no problem making babies. Time for another kind of human being to lead the human race. I don't care who leads the planet as long as he isn't from the bracket of wickedness that is the White/Male combination. At least if he's Black, Asian, East Indian, Native American, Hispanic or Arabic, he'll have a normal level of goodness/badness as opposed to having a genetic predisposition toward imperialism, racism and genocidal tendencies. 

My Black brothers, stay strong. Let's love ourselves and each other. I love all my Brothers, whether they are straight, bisexual or gay. I love them whether they are rich, middle-class, just getting by, working poor or totally homeless and destitute. I love you all. And I respect the women of all shades who love Black men. It's not easy loving a Black man, regardless of what race you are, what community you're from. It's like being the wife or girlfriend of a superhero who's constantly surrounded by villains. Have no fear, the Ultimate Villain the world has ever seen ( insert White and Male) is slowly but surely being defeated by nature. Tons of White guys are finding out they can't make babies. Others voluntarily get neutered ( oops I meant vasectomies) for reasons I can't fathom. Tons of White women are marrying and having offspring with Black men, Asian men, Hispanic men, Arabic men and Native American/Aboriginal men. And most of these offspring identity as 'minority' rather than 'White'. It's not their fault. The definition of Whiteness is very narrow. To be White, you need a White father and a White mother. To be a minority, you need a non-White parent. That's it, and you're in this club for life. Have no fear, minorities are becoming the majority. It's the new world order. And I love it. The wonderful thing is that White guys who get mad at White women who get with Black guys STILL lose when they get with Asian chicks or Black women as a form of revenge. The offspring they create won't meet the narrow-minded definition of Whiteness. And thus, they'll be 'minorities', members of the class destined to rule the planet as its new super majority in the future.

A lot of you reading this are shaking your heads. Do I hate White men? I don't hate them. I don't have to. I don't hate the Black women who worship them either. I was given a glimpse of the future...and there's no White in the rainbow. I love what I saw. It means that even if I don't always win in the dating game ( a lot of sisters are ditching the brothers) , I still win. Black male plus White female equals Black offspring. Black male plus Chinese female equals Black offspring. Black male plus Hispanic female equals Black offspring. Hell, Black female plus Indian male, or Chinese male, or Hispanic male, STILL equals Black offspring. Black female plus White male DEFINITELY equals Black offspring. The Black woman and the White male she procreates with can raise their mixed sons and daughters to embrace all things White and reject their African heritage all they want...they will still be rejected by the world's narrow-minded definition of Whiteness. If you have a non-White parent, you can't be White. You're a minority. The bigots who think they run the world reject you now and forever. Smarten up and join the minority revolution. We're tomorrow's super majority. And we'll happily vote AGAINST affirmative action for White guys when they become a minority. And that day isn't far off. Give it two decades. I look forward to it.

Tonight, I sleep soundly and happily. I'm a Black man with a college degree from America studying at a top university in Canada's capital region. I'm a professional licenced to work in America and Canada. I can have my pick of ladies of any color. It's really too bad that I'm surrounded by Black women who don't like Black men, don't believe in the Black community and think Black love is nonexistent. It's really too bad that those same Black women think Black men are slime balls and White men are God's gift to planet Earth. Never mind that their legacy of genocide, racism and imperialism definitely proves otherwise. I live in a place where interracial love is common and Black men are more daring than most. Black men from Somaliland, Djibouti and Ethiopia enter the Mosques as Muslims and seduce beautiful Arabic women and Persian women. Black men walk around holding hands with tall, beautiful, blonde-haired and blue-eyed White women in shopping centers, government offices, movie theaters, restaurants and business centers. Let White men hate on us all they want. They no longer matter. Their day has come and gone. They just don't know it yet. Look at the clock, fellas. Tick, tock.

Now, in my heart and soul, sometimes I yearn for the Black woman. Millions of years of evolution and genetic encoding can't be shrugged off overnight. However, why must she always be so hard on me while she's always so nice to White guys? I'm the most embattled and unenviable human being on the planet. Don't I deserve a lady who will be nice to me? I think so. I guess that means I have to date White women since most Black women are busy cussing Black guys, worshiping White men as demigods, or complaining about the dearth of decent Black men while giving nasty stares to Black college men walking down the street. Yeah, it's a perfect world I live in. I can't run from it. So I embrace it. It's my gift. It's my curse. I'm a Black man. That makes me a warrior. The last warrior. I can endure things that would break any other man mentally and physically. Human evolution made me this way. As the man who constantly endures, survives and overcomes the worst that mother nature and bigoted human society has to throw at me, I'm the pinnacle of human evolution. The Black man is evolving through hardship and struggle. The White man has stagnated because the universe kisses his butt daily and he turns suicidal at the first sign of true hardship. A sure sign of weakness. That's why my demographic is on the rise. We can be Presidents of mighty nations and CEOs of big companies now, and still beat up certain insecure pale bozos in the boxing ring before taking blonde beauties home for a night of fun. It's good to be a Black man in twenty-first century planet Earth. My brothers, let's get educated, let's stay strong and let's love one another. The scariest Black man in the eyes of today's society is not the wannabe thug, the rapper or the baller, it's the educated one who's smart and knows what's going on. Sisters, if you love us, we thank you. You can be our queens. If you hate us and worship the others, that's okay too. I think you KNOW for a fact that we can find someone else ( of any color) in the blink of an eye. Peace. 



Note to Self



Private journal of Anna Volakas

Monday 22nd September, 2014

I feel strange writing this down. No, not strange ... guilty. I don't know why I feel that way, because it doesn't make sense; but I do know what's causing it and maybe if I put it on paper then it won't be in my head any more. Then maybe I can sleep again at night. Let the damn paper feel guilty.

But here's the thing: I'm not completely sure I want it out of my head. How's that for messed up? Pretty frickin' perfect, I should think; perfectly messed up is exactly what it is. The truth? I haven't felt this excited ... this alive ... since my honeymoon. I think that's why I feel guilty; not because what I'm feeling is wrong -- I don't think it is -- but because these feelings should be reserved for Nick, my husband.





Note to Self



I managed to get my bra off and put it on the counter, hoping that Susan hadn't seen my reaction to her breasts. I inspected my own in the mirror; full and round at the tops and sides, the extra weight made them sit a bit wider than Susan's. My areolae are much bigger; smooth and brown and the size of a baby's hand. I suppose I was so used to my own shape and color that Susan's had caught me off-guard, but that difference made them seem exotic somehow; maybe forbidden. Looking at them gave me the same feeling as seeing something you're not supposed to -- or not accustomed to; like when a guy has his feet up and you can see right up the leg of his shorts to his underwear.

But I think most of all it was the color; not that it was different to mine, but that it matched her skirt. Those smooth curves of pink that clung to her hips and stretched across the parting of her legs were the color of sex; and there was so much of it, it hurt my eyes to look.

"Number one you can do in the shower, because it's just by touch, not by sight" she began, holding her left arm in the air and nodding at me to copy. "So working from the outside to the centre," she continued, pressing into her breast with all four fingers, "move the pads of your fingers in a circle, feeling all of the flesh of your breast. You're looking for any lumps or thickening of the tissue. And don't forget the armpit area."

I copied what she was doing on my own breast, but although I was ostensibly watching her to see what she was doing, I was staring at those tiny button nipples, pink and sexual and perched in the middle that creamy, soft and somehow virginal flesh; and all the while that expanse of the same pink down below pressed at the periphery of my consciousness like a flashing neon sign saying "Sex: down here!"

My nipples peaked, but I was able to cover one with my hand and as soon as I rubbed it out, I quickly swapped breasts and concealed the other one.

"What if someone comes in?" It was the first thing I had said since the half-assed apology; Susan had been chattering on enough for both of us.

"One of two things," she said with a smile, swapping breasts. "Either that we're doing a breast exam ..." I saw her eyes flick down to my nipples, which despite my best efforts had peaked again and stood out thick and proud about a quarter inch.

"Or?" I encouraged her to continue.

"Or we're a couple of lessos about to get it on," she finished with a straight face.

I was still aroused and confused and not prepared for that, and I snorted laughter through my nose. That got Susan going, and soon she was giggling, which got me going again. With arms still in the air and feeling our breasts like some kinky topless rendition of Swan Lake, every time we both almost got the giggles under control, one would break -- usually Susan -- and we'd both be going again like a couple of schoolgirls.

"You know I'm never going to be able to do this again without laughing," I said, catching my breath and getting myself under control.

"What about me?" she asked earnestly, but still with a big grin. "What if I'm examining a patient and I crack up feeling her boobs?"

I pictured that and it made me laugh again because it was something that might really happen.

"What's number two?" I asked. "And don't say we need to get our panties off for that!" I added sternly.

She almost cracked-up again, but the professional doctor inside took over.

"Okay. Number two is in the mirror; this one is just with the eyes, so do it when you get out of the shower." She stood with arms by her side, staring straight ahead at her breasts while she talked. "Raise your arms above your head," we both bid, "and look for any dimpling or puckering, especially if it's just on one side." I watched my breasts lift as I reached up, taking it seriously and looking for any differences, my eyes flicking involuntarily to Susan's pink nipples and then down to her skirt, making my breath feel hot in my throat, and my nostrils flare as I exhaled.

"Good!" she encouraged me. "Now, last one: hands on hips ...," we both did it, staring straight ahead. "... and flex your chest. And you're looking for the same thing -- puckering or dimpling -- as your breasts move." I watched her do it first, her breasts lifting slightly and minutely closing together. I copied her, but I work my traps pretty hard with barbell shrugs, and my breasts leaped up so hard they bounced, closing together almost to the point of forming cleavage.

"Holy cripes!" Susan blurted, "Do that again!" She was watching me, eyes wide and mouth open in what might have been horror or amazement. Showing off a bit, I flexed one side and then other, making them bounce independently.

Susan took a stunned half step towards me with her hand reaching out before she realised what she was doing and pulled back with a start, like she'd touched something hot.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry," she apologised, blinking, but looking directly at me now while I still watched her in the mirror. "Shit, I nearly reached out and touched them ... Shit! I said 'shit'!"

"Yeah, clean up that potty mouth," I laughed. "You can't use that kind of fucking language in front of me."

I watched in the mirror as she looked up at my face and laughed nervously. I flexed my chest on the side closest to her one more time and the breast jumped again, startling a surprised "Oh" from her.

I was still buzzing from the laughter and arousal and charmed by her girlish reaction to my showing off; the next thing I said just came out before I could edit it.

"You can touch them if you want," I invited.

"What?" She looked back up at my face. "Are you sure?"

I wasn't sure, but my heart had just kicked up a notch and I was too proud to back down.

"Sure, knock yourself out," I said with a casual note that belied the tension I felt. "Just no tongue, you lesbo bitch."

That disarmed her and she laughed again, double-checking my smirk to make sure I wasn't serious.

I kept facing forwards, watching in the mirror as she stepped towards me, looking down gravely at my breasts. Moving like treacle, she brought one hand slowly up, hovering uncertainly below its target before she found a new surge of courage -- or maybe it was that professional instinct kicking back in -- and closed her palm beneath me with her thumb above the nipple; my C-cup too big for her small hand to support completely.

Oh man, it most definitely did not feel like a doctor holding me. I was standing in a body-builder pose with my feet apart and arms out to the side -- although my lean, cut muscles are nothing like a body-builder's -- and Susan had come closer than she probably intended, so now my arm was nestled between her soft breasts, sending confusing tingling messages shooting through my body. She seemed at least as nervous as me and I could feel tiny twitches through her fingertips as she gently cupped me; it was like she was concentrating on trying not to squeeze.

"Okay, go," she said softly. I gave it another hard flex and startled her again, involuntarily squeezing me and making my large nipple bulge out between her fingers and thumb. "Oh jeepers! Your boobs have muscles!"

"It's just the traps," I explained. "They're behind and a bit above your breast. You can build them up with ..." The expression on her face stopped me. She was still cupping my breast, but now she was looking up at my face, her brows drawing together and a smirk curling at the corner of her mouth. "... a-a-a-a-nd ... you're a doctor," I said slowly, a blush spreading up my cheeks as I realised my mistake. "You've sat through more anatomy classes than I've busted drug dealers."

"Uh huh," she smiled. "It was a figure of speech."

"I feel like a dork," I said, rolling my eyes.

"You feel like a ripped dork," she said, impressed. "Do it once more for me and I'll forgive you." She smiled again and placed her other hand warmly on the bare skin of my back just above the jeans. I flexed once more and held it, then popped it quickly a few times. She squeezed me gently as it almost jumped from her fingers. "That is so cool," she laughed, letting me go. "I so wish I could that. Michael would go mental!"

"Michael's got absolutely nothing to complain about," I complimented her as we both reached for our bras. "And guys aren't as impressed by that as you'd think."

Her pale cheeks looked flushed as she slipped back into her pretty bra. What had just happened? Was that two women making friends and sharing personal health advice? Was it a seduction of some kind? Or did we just both just discover something about ourselves that we never suspected?





Note to Self



It was all I needed. With her hard nipple setting off lightning bolts on my tongue, my thighs clamped together over her hand -- and of course her thighs closed on mine, too -- and I came with a sweet, long, shuddering orgasm; my entire body twitching uncontrollably with Susan's nipple still between my lips, powering the continual, flowing climax that seemed like it would never end.

At that point -- predictably -- I woke up with my hand down my soaking wet panties and realised with a guilty shudder that I had just come in my sleep with Nick asleep beside me. I don't even know if she came.





Note to Wife



Baby, I need you, want you like never before. As I watched you get dressed this morning I couldn't help but notice you have been sticking to your diet, and it's paying off. As you got out of the bath I noticed how smooth and sexy your thighs looked. I made sure you thought I was asleep, but I was secretly watching you dry off your beautiful body. As I saw you pull your panties up I couldn't help but look at your beautiful round ass, it caused a slight stir in my pants. You slowly turned and I caught a glimpse of your nice big breasts, your nipples hard from the cool air. Oh how I love your large dark nipples against your white tits. My dick is growing and I can't help but to slowly move so I can brush up against it, it's growing harder by the second.

You slowly slide into one of your dresses, it's your Jean dress, now I know you've lost some inches cause you haven't worn that dress in a while and you only wear it when you feel you look good in it. And let me tell you baby you do look good in it. Every time you wear it I notice guys looking at you in it, especially your ass. There is something about the way it fits you that makes you look smoking hot. Its at that point where its almost too short, you can see the top of your thighs and it shows just enough of your big heavy tits. I can tell it makes you feel slutty when you where it, you have a confidence when you wear it like you know you look sexy and you know guys are looking at you. Whenever you wear it I want to fuck you, not make love to you, but fuck you. Give it to you good, hard, rough, dirty...treat you like my sexy slut. It makes my dick strain against my boxers, it's throbbing now.

You still think I'm sleeping, but I'm really trying find a way to rub my hard dick to get it relax a little. My mind is going crazy watching you do your hair, you look amazing...I'm fighting the urge to pull my thick throbbing dick out and start stroking it while watching you. I'm trying to decide if I should get up and walk over to you and force you to your knees and feed you my big hard cock. Then bend you over the bathroom sink and fuck you from behind with your dress still on. As I'm fighting the battle in my head you finally finish and come over and give me peck good bye.

As I hear you leave the house I can't help but thinking of how you looked. I slowly pull down my shorts and boxers and unleash my rock hard cock from it's restraints, it's sticking straight up and begging for release. I look down at it and there is pre-cum all over my tip and the head is already swelling. I know it won't take long for me to cum so I slowly start to trace my dick with my finger tips starting at the base and working my way to the head. I stop and slowly rub the pad of my finger over the tip, then on the underside of the tip where it meets the shaft...I imagine it's your tongue.

As my fingers are teasing the head of my dick I start to message my balls with my other hand, I'm imaging you on your knees in your Jean dress, and I'm feeding you my big cock. I know how you love it when I feed it to you, I start stroking myself as I imagine you taking inch by inch of my throbbing cock in your warm mouth. If I let myself I could cum right now, but I slow down because I want to savor this feeling. I feel so hard under my fist pumping slowly up and down letting my thumb and finger graze the head of my dick, it's so sensitive and it sends waves of pleasure through my shaft and to my balls. I'm getting lost in the vision of your beautiful big lips sucking me, then I tell you to undo the top buttons on the dress so I can see your lovely breasts.

I'm starting to pump a little faster now and I can feel the pre-cum sliding down my shaft as I jack myself off. I'm really rubbing my balls now, pulling, rubbing and squeezing them as my hand is pounding at my dick. Then I imagine grabbing you by your hair and standing you up, you kiss me with a hunger I haven't seen in a while, panting and shooting your tongue in my mouth. I grab your arms and spin you around and kiss you from behind as you gyrate your juicy round ass against my wet dick. You reach in front of you and release your tits out of the top of your bra, squeezing and rubbing them as we continue to kiss. I break our kiss, forcefully bending you forward I slide your dress up to wear I can only see half of that glorious ass. I pull your now soaking wet white panties to the side and drive my fat dick all the way in your wet pussy...you scream at the surprise of feeling me all at once, gasping and moaning.

I'm really pumping my dick now, the whole length from the base to the tip it's taking everything I've got to hold off. The vein on my smooth dick is growing and my head is purple and swollen and just aching to be released. I squeeze my chest and slide back down to work my nuts as they pull up to my body ready for their release. My mind flashes back to me pounding your dripping pussy, I can feel your cum dripping down your thighs and my balls as I'm looking at your beautiful ass as I'm slamming against you. In the mirror I see one of your hands working your clit and the other squeezing your nipple and your face is lost in the moment. I can feel myself getting close and I'm trying to decide where I'm going to cum, do I pull out and cum on your ass, do I cum in your pussy and make you walk around at work all day with cum dripping out of you? Do I pull out and spin you back on your knees and cum all over your tits as you play with your pussy, watching you rub my hot cum all over your tits and nipples as your bring yourself over the edge. Or do I tell you where I have secretly always wanted to shoot my hot load?

As I shove my dick in and out of you the last couple of times I tell you I want to come on you while you play with yourself, you moan a low and deep "yes baby, please do it". Then I pull out and you kneel in front of me with one hand rubbing your clit harder and faster than you ever have, with the other you slide your arm under your tits holding them up for me. I'm inches from your beautiful face and I can tell you are out of control with lust and are so close to creaming all over fingers, I'm stroking my cock slowly in front of you trying to hold on for a couple more seconds. I tell you I'm close and then decide to tell you what I really want to do. You start moaning and are begging for it on your tits, I squeeze my hard cock and tell you I want to cum all over your face. That I want to see shot after shot of my hot cum land on that beautiful face. It doesn't slow you, in fact your starting to cum and all you say is "yes, please, do it baby, cover me!" Before you can finish I feel the rush of cum start at my balls and rush threw my dick and I let out a loud moan and shoot load after load of my hot cum on your face. The first shot flies over your face and hits the counter, the next one hits it's mark and lands across your forehead and into your hair. You gasp as you are still cumming, mouth now open trying to catch at least one shot. My next shot lands on your cheek followed by chin and eye lid...finally I bury my cock in your mouth and you take the couple strands in your mouth. You back off my dick and show me my cum in your mouth before swallowing it.

Just as I'm envisioning this glorious site I stroke my cock one last time and release stream after stream of my hot cum...landing on my chest, stomach and hand. I almost black out and it takes me ten minutes to get up and go take a shower before going to work.



Notebook Found in a Deserted House



My name's Duane Sims. I'm 18 years old. I'm in the basement of my Uncle Harold's house in Baxter County, Arkansas.

My Ma and Pa are dead, Uncle Harold's probably dead, Gloria's dead, and my future isn't looking too good. I'm hiding here, writing this down. I'll go as long as I can. When I die, if I go up to Heaven with Ma and Pa, that won't be bad at all. Like Gloria said, I just have to be strong.

I miss my folks like you wouldn't believe. It was just the three of us on Pa's farm, working hard, keeping it going. Pa pulled me out of school after 8th grade because he needed the help. I'm an only child and the thinking was that when they got older I would take over the farm.

But last month on a rainy night a drunk guy smashed his pickup into our car. I was at home, lucky me. But Ma and Pa were killed instantly. Then there was the funeral, and lawyers and tax guys, and I found out that even as hard as we had been working, the farm was losing money all along. To pay everything off, we had to sell it. I had no place to live.

Pa was an only child, and Ma only had one sister, Aunt Violet, who passed away three years ago; her husband, Uncle Harold, was the only family left. He said he'd take me in for as long as I needed, so I moved into his house up in the woods.

I knew the place pretty well, because we would come up every summer for two weeks. Uncle would take me and Pa hunting and fishing, and even when I was really young he insisted on taking me along. That was awesome. I know Ma was happy to get me out of her hair for a few days, and she could chat with Aunt Vi. Uncle and Aunt had no kids of their own, and they enjoyed spoiling me a bit.

Uncle's house was in the middle of a pretty thick forest in the hills. It was five miles to the state road, and another six miles to town. But we never went hunting near the house, we always drove out for that. Uncle said these woods near his house were bad, and I shouldn't go walking around. At first he wouldn't say why, and Pa wouldn't say either. The summer I turned 12, Uncle sat me down and explained a little bit.

In olden times, the woods in this area was a no-man's land, even for the Indians, who knew every nook and cranny of the rest of Arkansas. There were other people who were not Indians who came there, and they were pagans who worshiped evil things.

I asked Uncle did he mean they don't believe in God. He said there are plenty of people who don't believe in God, but they're otherwise fine people. But these pagans worshiped a monster, a thing called Shub-N----- that came out of the ground four times a year. There were smaller creatures that were in the woods year-round, and Uncle said you didn't ever want to get a peek at one of those things, never.

I'm not writing down the second half of Shub-N's name, because my eighth-grade teacher said polite people don't say that word. I asked Uncle about it, and he laughed and said they're two completely different words. Then he said my teacher had a good point, and I shouldn't be walking around saying neither word out loud.

Anyway, the frontiersmen didn't believe what the Indians said about the woods, Uncle said, and they even set up a town a couple miles due east from his house. There were roads, a rail spur, stores, a church, everything. But this town was in the wrong place. One night everybody disappeared. People came in a few days later to take a look, and what they saw made them block the roads and tear up the rail line and wash their hands of the whole thing. Nothing could be done about it. This was a hundred years ago, and the forest by now had swallowed everything back up.

So if you hear something at night, Uncle told me, sounding like marching or chanting, pay no mind to it. Shut the windows and stay in the house. And if you're outside, stick to the yard, and if you're going to town, go with someone and stick to the road. The house isn't right in the bad part of the woods, but it's close enough to it. He said the pagans were like yellow jackets: even the meanest, orneriest bunch would likely leave you alone if you didn't go poking around where you weren't supposed to.

I had never heard or seen these things, but I believed my uncle. He'd have no reason to make stuff up.

I packed all my stuff and took the train to Uncle's town. He picked me up at the station and drove me up to his house. The car was the same old Buick he had owned for as long as I could remember. "Still going strong," he said as we turned off the state road. That car felt big and empty without Ma and Pa.

We loaded my stuff into the guest room, which was my room now, and he said "Got a surprise for ya." I didn't even notice at first, cause it would look normal in any other house, but Uncle had a TV now. "Can't hardly get two stations," he said, but there was a VCR too, and he had bought a bunch of movies on sale. He'd never had a TV before, and still didn't have a phone. We had always made do playing cards and dice, and telling stories. And there were still all the books he had: I could probably stay 100 summers and not read through them all.

I hadn't kept track of the days much, but the next day was Monday, and right on schedule the mail truck came up the drive. I walked out with Uncle and asked him "Gloria?" and he said "Yup." That made me happy.

Gloria had been Uncle's mailman since I was 12. But I shouldn't say "mailman." I should say "postal carrier," she told me one day. "Last time I checked, I'm not a man," she said, smiling.

I coulda told her I knew that. I checked all the time.

I'd been sweet on Gloria since the first time I saw her. She was really pretty, with dark eyes, a face that would just light up when she talked to me, and long hair tied up in a bun. She was from Mexico, and in the summers her skin tanned up really nice.

As I got older, I started to appreciate her in different ways. Her summer uniform was a light-blue short-sleeve shirt, and dark-blue shorts. I started to notice her legs, smooth and strong from all that walking, and her ass in those tight shorts, and the way she filled out that snug shirt. She probably caught me looking lots of times, but she never said anything about it. Maybe in her mind I was too young to cause any trouble. Maybe saw me as a nephew, or younger cousin. Or maybe -- and this is what I hoped -- she secretly liked the attention.

She came up to the house twice a week, Monday and Thursday. After she dropped off the mail, she would sit with me on the porch and talk a while, about almost anything. Those were my favorite parts of the week. Each time she would teach me another couple words in Spanish, and quiz me on the ones she taught before, even from years ago. "You should remember that one," she'd say. "I taught you that two summers back."

I wanted to do right by her, so I got a notebook and started writing the words down. It's the same one I'm writing in now. I can flip to the front and see that "dia" means day, and "noche" means night, and "gato" means cat.

"Novia" means girlfriend. She taught me that when I was 15. Then she asked if I had one. Well, there was Jenny Porter from my old school, and one afternoon we had some of her dad's beer, and she let me reach under her shirt, but we never actually went out. I didn't want to tell Gloria about that so my answer was "no". She said "Don't worry, it's only a matter of time," and put her arm around me and patted my shoulder. At that moment I felt she was exactly right, and I could have any girl I wanted. Even Gloria if I wasn't so young. That's how she could make me feel.

"Bonita" means pretty. I asked her that one myself long ago, but I didn't have the guts to turn around and use it on her. She would have seen it coming. "Well, aren't you smooth," she said, smiling. She gave me a quick hug and said "that's very nice of you." I had to act cool and casual and pretend I didn't have this big crush on her.

There was one time I asked her about the woods. I told her what my uncle said about the pagans and the ceremonies. I think I was 13 or 14.

"Your uncle's right," she said, looking stern. "You ought to listen to what he says." That was the closest she ever got to scolding me, or any cross words at all.

So when the mail truck pulled up that first Monday after I moved in, I was really happy to see her. She stepped out, saw me, and brightened right up. She waved, then walked up, handed Uncle his mail, and gave me a big hug. "How'd you get so handsome?" she said. "You're like a full-grown man now!"

"You're as pretty as ever," I said, and I meant it. She still had her arms around me, and I didn't mind that at all. I had grown a lot in the past few years, but she still looked the same. That was fine with me.

Then she got sad, and gave me another hug, tight. "I'm so sorry about your parents," she said, talking in my ear, because her head was alongside mine. "I can't imagine what that must be like."

"I miss them a lot," I said. I was nowhere near getting over them passing away. I didn't want to cry in front of her. Anyway, her body pressed against mine was a big distraction.

"You have to be strong," she said, and kissed me on the cheek. I know that's nothing, but she had never kissed me before, and I wished I had the guts to kiss her back, right on the lips. There were so many things I wished I could do. Luckily I had an even stronger wish not to make a fool of myself.

She let go of her hug, and I had to let go, too. I hope my face wasn't too red. I could feel it getting warm.

"Ready for a lesson?" she said. Uncle excused himself with a knowing grin and stepped inside. I sat down with her and learned "este", "oeste", "norte" and "sur": the four directions. That's the second to last set of words in the book.

That night, Uncle and I tried playing poker, but it just doesn't work with only two people. He understood how lonely I felt. He was the same way when Aunt Vi passed away three years ago. Some of his buddies were saying he should find another woman, get married so it wouldn't be so lonely up in the house.

"Maybe you should marry Gloria," I said, and only partwise kidding.

He laughed. "She's a might closer to your age than mine," he said. Then he had a faraway look in his eyes, like there was something important he hadn't finished thinking about.

"How old is she?" I asked after a while.

"Can't yet be 30," he said. He was about 50.

After he went to sleep, and I finished a video, I sat in the bathroom and rubbed one out thinking of Gloria. Funny thing: when I was young, I had fantasies about her too, but just me rescuing her from trouble and getting a hug and kiss as reward. Kid stuff. As I got older, those daydreams changed quite a bit, as you could imagine. I didn't dare tell her about any of them.

I woke up in the middle of the night. For the first time I heard what my uncle was talking about: thunder, but in a rhythm, almost like marching. And there were lights over the far hills, kind of like sunrise, but in the wrong place, the wrong color of light, and way too early. Also, it looked like they were moving. Next morning, I told Uncle about that, and he said, Better reason to stay out of those woods. Ma and Pa had never brought me up here this time of year. It was almost fall, close to one of those times the pagans really started acting up. Best thing to do once the sun sets was to stay in for the night, watch some movies, and wait for morning.

In the mail was a letter from Uncle Harold's brother Paul. He was coming up to visit this Friday. Uncle didn't seem too happy about it, but he was never one to badmouth another person, especially family. Paul was staying for a few days before heading back to college where he was a professor.

That Friday, after lunch, Uncle drove down to pick Paul up. I stayed behind, making some beef stew so they'd have something to eat. One hour went by, then two, and I turned down the stove to low and wondered what was taking so long. Then it was late afternoon and Uncle still wasn't back, and I didn't know what to do. He had the car; town was probably a good three hours by foot, and I wouldn't get back before dark. What if something happened to him? Without a phone at the house, I couldn't even find out.

I shut off the stove and sat in the main room, reading a book and peeking out the window for Uncle's car. It was dinnertime now. I went to take a piss and when I came back to the living room, I saw people walking around the front yard.

There were three people: a man and two women. Uncle wasn't with them. I didn't see anything parked in the lane; had they walked all the way here? Before I confronted them I wanted to get a better look.

First was a big guy my Pa's age wearing boots, jeans and a Razorback shirt. He was looking around the old well we don't use anymore. There's a new one on the other side of the yard. The old one always had slimy stuff in it and you wouldn't want to drink out of it anyhow.

There was a woman, younger than him, maybe 30 or 35. She wasn't really dressed for a long walk. Bare feet in flip-flops, bare legs (nice ones, too), and a set of shiny gym shorts as small as they could get. I took a good long look there, captivated by how the bottom curves of her ass cheeks (which her shorts didn't cover) met those smooth legs. But she looked sensational all over. She had a narrow waist and tight T-shirt with a V-neck showing off a really nice pair of tits. The shirt was so tight I could see her bra straps from where I was. She had short hair, styled up like those centerfolds from the 70s and 80s. And she had a centerfold's body, too.

The other girl was younger, taller and skinnier, with long straight black hair and sharp black eyebrows. Their daughter, I guessed, even though she didn't really resemble her ma. She looked the same age as me. Her ma must have had her really young. Her clothes were all white. Sneakers, plain white T-shirt, and white shorts that looked like they were made out of T-shirt stuff. I checked out her tits too, and they were smaller than her mom's, but still looking good: rounded, high and firm on her chest.

That's pretty low, I thought at the time, how quickly I went from being suspicious of the group to checking out the ladies.

They didn't seem dangerous. But there was no reason for them to be snooping around the yard. We're miles away from anyone. I went outside and asked what they were doing here.

"You must be Duane," the guy said, shaking my hand. His smile was like a car salesman's. "Paul Miller. I'm Hal's brother. This is my wife Violet and my daughter Lily."

Violet? I didn't like that. It was like the woman had taken my aunt's name, like she wouldn't need it anymore. I know that wasn't it, but it sure felt that way.

"I know, same as your aunt," he said. "A girl doesn't get to pick her name when she's born."

Violet gave me an apologetic smile. "I certainly don't mean your aunt any disrespect."

"It's all right," I said. It couldn't have been her fault, anyway. And she was so gracious and pretty it would be tough to stay angry at her.

"Where's Uncle Harold?" I said. I did wonder why Uncle had never said anything about his sister having the same name as his wife.

"He had car trouble. Staying in town while it gets fixed," Paul said.

"How'd you get up here, then?"

He was getting visibly impatient, like he had to bite his tongue before he said what he really wanted to. "Why, it's such a nice day, we decided to walk up here. If Hal got finished early, he could pick us up by the road. But I guess it's taking longer than he thought."

This sounded like bullshit. "I'm going down there."

Paul scowled. "You better bring a flashlight. Sunset's in about an hour, and it's at least three hour walk." He stamped his feet, maybe to keep the blood flowing in them. "We oughta know, just having completed that walk. And if you don't mind, we'd really like to get off our feet."

He walked inside and Lily followed. Violet paused to touch my elbow and speak to me softly. "I'm sorry he's a little grumpy right now. Once he gets something to eat, he'll be better."

"I made some beef stew if you guys are hungry."

"Oh, you're an angel," she said, her eyes bright. "If you can bring in our bags," she said, pointing to three suitcases at the corner of the house, "Lily and I will put together dinner."

Wow. I just stood there as I watched her go up the three steps into the house. I loved her tight waist with the T-shirt tucked in, and the curvy ass that her shorts couldn't quite cover. She kicked off her sandals and walked inside barefoot.

I brought in their suitcases. There were two bedrooms left; they could choose up later. I made sure the sheets were clean and everything.

We sat in the kitchen while Violet reheated the stew and Lily made some scalloped potatoes. We talked about general stuff, sports and weather, and the places we had been, but I wasn't paying much attention. I watched Violet walk back and forth in her skin-tight clothes as she got dinner ready and got a better look at Lily as she set the table. Lily looked foreign, not like Oriental foreign, but maybe somewhere close to that part of the world. Her eyebrows slanted a little, and her eyes were dark brown, and her lips were thin. The more I watched, the prettier she seemed to get. She looked so different from any of the other girls I grew up with.

Lily was quiet in a way that you might think she was stuck up, but she wasn't. In contrast to her mom, she was shy and seemed not really sure of herself.

We sat down and helped ourselves and ate. Paul asked me casually whether I liked the potatoes. I said I wasn't much of a potato guy, but they were pretty good. (I wouldn't have had any, but I had taken a spoonful to be polite.)

"Violet, how do you like the potatoes?" he asked. I happened to look at Lily, and she looked scared, which didn't make sense at first. Violet allowed as how the potatoes were a little dry.

Paul told Lily to stand up.

She gulped the bite of food she had and pushed back her chair. She looked at me like I was supposed to help her, but I didn't know what was going on. I could tell she didn't want to get up from her seat.

"Come here," Paul said. Lily forced herself to start moving, and walked behind me, around the table. She stood next to Paul, facing away from me. He slid back his chair, still sitting down, and told her to lean forward on his lap. She didn't want to, but she obeyed. She was almost kneeling, with her legs on my side of Paul's seat.

He reached under her waistband and yanked down both her shorts and panties. My jaw dropped. Lily's bare bottom was slim, curvy, creamy white and perfect. I remember thinking I wasn't supposed to be seeing this. But it wasn't like I was peeping into someone else's bedroom window. This was my house, my kitchen. Anyway, neither Paul nor Violet seemed to care about Lily's privacy.

Paul swatted Lily's bottom, making it quiver. She cried out. I didn't like it; I thought she was too delicate, too pretty to be smacked like that. He spanked her four more times, and it looked like each one hurt. Her shorts slid down around her knees. She was crying then, and her bottom was getting red. He let her stand up and told her to pull her own pants up. I felt kind of guilty for getting a fleeting peek at her pussy lips as she pulled them up. That really wasn't fair to her.

"You've got to do better," Paul said. She went back to her seat without saying a word, and ate the rest of her food without looking at any of us. I don't think I could have looked her in the eye anyway, because of what she knew I had seen. Paul and Violet started chatting away with each other and me like nothing happened.

We finished the apple pie from the fridge and by then it was dark. "Get ready for bed," Paul told Lily. "Then we'll watch a movie." He treated her like a little girl, but I was sure she was at least as old as me.




Notebook Found in a Deserted House



Lily went to her room and came back in her sleep clothes. It wasn't something most people would wear around others. She was barefoot and wore two things, both white as fresh snow: bikini underwear, really skimpy, with just strings going around her hips; and a silky slip for the top, short enough to bare her belly button. Except for two skinny strings, her shoulders were bare, too. She didn't have a bra, and her nipples poked against her top enough to make little shadows from the lamp in the living room. Again, it seemed like they were treating Lily like they had forgotten I was around.

Paul started a movie with the remote. It was one that he brought, a Chinese one with subtitles. He fast forwarded thru the credits which none of us could read anyway. He slouched back on the main couch and Violet leaned on him, more laying down than sitting, her head almost in his lap. Her legs were stretched out, and her bare feet were up on the couch. Her T-shirt was pulled out at the waist and his left hand was basically resting on her tit, but outside the shirt.

They took up the whole big couch, so Lily had to sit next to me on the small one. I found myself peeking at how the white slip draped her braless breasts, and how her nipples seemed to poke even more than when she had come downstairs. She sat with her hands in her lap.

The movie had three young Chinese women, all pretty cute, with enough money that they could shop and have fun and party all the time. No worries at all. One of them was trying on a little dress and they showed her taking off her clothes in the dressing room. She didn't have a bra and her panties were see-through. She tried the dress and took it back off, but a guy with a silly grin reached in for her clothes and ran away with them. She chased him out of the dressing room and then remembered she was topless, and covered her bouncing tits with her hands. You could still see her ass and bush through the sheer panties. Then another guy tore off her panties and she screamed and covered that up. She started chasing the new guy, and he ran outside while she chased him naked.

It was that kind of movie: the girls couldn't keep their clothes on and were losing them in all kinds of different ways. Normally I'd be really into this type of flick, but the situation with the "family" was really weird. Lily just sat there like it was something she was expected to do, and was waiting until it was over, like a long sermon. Paul and Violet were watching closely. I saw him massaging her tit through the shirt, and she didn't mind at all; in fact, she patted his hand from time to time. Then he reached under her shirt, like I did with Jenny Porter, and I could tell that Violet was getting worked up about that.

She stretched, leaned up and kissed him. He slid his hand down her stomach and into her shorts.

I felt uncomfortable being there, so I excused myself and went to bed.

That night I had one of those dreams that's so good you feel cheated for waking up.

It was daytime. Paul and the others weren't there. Uncle Harold had gone into town but I stayed behind because it was Gloria's day to come by. She drove up and handed me the mail, and I put it inside on the table. I brought out my notebook, ready to learn some more Spanish words.

"Let's do something different today," she said. "I need to show you something." She took my hand. I started walking toward the truck, but she pulled me in the other direction, and we walked straight out of the yard into the woods.

"I thought we're not supposed to go in the woods," I said.

"You're not. Don't ever go in there by yourself."

"Don't ya got more mail to deliver?" I asked. That was a dumb question, and I wanted to kick myself. If Gloria wants to hang out with me, who needs a reason?

"There's time," she said. We were walking pretty fast through the forest. We climbed over a hill and I could no longer see the house. She held my hand as we stepped over rocks slick with moss and balanced on rotting tree trunks crossing little streams. Pretty soon I had no idea where I was. Hopefully she knew these woods. I had never been out here.

She seemed kind of nervous, excited, and even scared. I didn't know what was coming up, but I was just happy to be alone with her.

We got to the top of a hill and I looked around; but I only saw more hills, all covered with trees. No roads or towns. But I did see a bit of water as the sun shone off it in the distance. "There's a lake?"

"That's where we're going," she said. She took my hand and we jogged downhill.

We got to the lake and it was perfectly clean and deserted. At first it looked like no one had ever been here. But in the middle of the lake was an island, cleared off with no trees, with some big square boulders that were lined up in a pattern. The island looked like it was a couple football fields away.

"That's where we're going," said Gloria. "Ready for a swim?"

I just stared at her. This was where the dream started really getting good.

She unbuttoned her shirt and took it off. She had a small black bra, cradling her full, round tits. She turned to hang the shirt on a tree branch. Her back was nearly bare. Her skin was beautiful, a natural light coffee-walnut shade.

She turned to me again, and leaned forward to take her shorts off. The view down the front of her bra was stunning. Her tits nestled right together, with a line of tight cleavage I wanted to slip a hand in between. She could have put in one of those little toy flags you wave at parades and it would have stayed up. Her shorts came off, and she was only in matching black bra and panties. Then she saw me standing there, staring at her.

"Strip down, Duane," she said, laughing. "Unless you want your clothes all wet."

That backfired, as I paused a moment anticipating how she'd look dripping wet with only her underwear on.

I didn't want to ruin anything by acting stupid. I yanked off my T-shirt and shorts, not really paying attention because I was watching her. But she wasn't done stripping. She unhooked her bra and hung it with her shirt and pants, then turned back toward me. Her bare tits were everything I had ever imagined: soft, round and full, just perfect. Her nipples were kind of crinkled up and hard because it was a little cool in the shade. Jenny Porter's had been pink, and had puffed up a bit when I played with them. Gloria's were dark brown.

"I hope I'm not making you uncomfortable," she said. With great effort I moved my gaze up to her face. "We're OK, right?"

"I'm fine," I said, trying not to stutter.

To merely see her topless would have provided me enough fantasies for a year's supply of jerking off. But she bent forward slightly to take off her panties, and for a moment looked up at me with one eyebrow raised: hey, what are you looking at? But who could blame me. She had a dark bush, smooth waist and hips and a slight hint of a belly. Despite all those times fantasizing about her, I had never thought I would ever get a chance in real life to see Gloria naked. This was the jackpot. The holy grail.

She turned around to stack her clothes on a rock, I just stood there staring at her gorgeous ass. I guess she really did feel that comfortable around me, enough to be naked. Good thing she couldn't read my mind.

She turned back, and I was standing there like a dummy in my jockeys with my dick getting hard. "It's gonna get clammy if you keep 'em on," she warned. Even naked, she still carried a lot of authority. And she had a point. If she stripped all the way down, I would look really bad if I didn't. I turned around and took my underwear off. My dick sprung straight out. I eventually had to turn back; I apologized about my boner and she shook her head.

"Cold water'll take care of that," she said, grinning. She turned around and jumped in.

I stepped in, and damn it was cold. But I didn't want to look weak, so I ran a couple steps and dove right in. It was freezing for a few moments, but I got used to it.

The swim took a long time, for something way less than a mile. Gloria was a better swimmer, and a few times doubled back to check on me. "Go on your back if you need to rest," she said. "Just kick and scull with your hands." I got the hang of that and still made progress.

The island was covered with short grass that almost looked like a lawn. It felt pretty good on bare feet. Out of the water, dripping dry, we were both pretty chilly. She had goose pimples on her bare skin. She was right: the cold water had made my dick shrink. A few peeks at Gloria's body and it started warming up again, and then the sun warmed the rest of us.

She led me by the hand uphill to the highest point on the island, where the stones were. Someone had also laid stone in a big circle around a huge well we could have dropped Uncle's Buick into. I got a little spooked, like someone was watching; but I looked around and didn't see anyone. My dick was hard again and I guess if Gloria was OK with it, so was I.

"Watch your step," she said, and led me to the rim of the well. It went down who knows how deep. I couldn't see the bottom. The smell was something I can't even describe.

"Geez!" I whispered. "What crawled in there and died?"

She shook her head. "No. The question is, what crawled in there and lives."

I hopped back, like it was going to jump out right then. She squeezed my hand to reassure me. "It's not time. Only four times a year can it come up. It's when the earth is aligned to some particular star. That's the worst time to be around here, because those people are trying to help it happen."

"Is it Shub-you know what?"

"Maybe. Myths change over thousands of years, and people make mistakes or deliberately. So maybe not. But it's still dangerous."

"Has it ever come out? What does it do?"

"Sometimes nothing much. Sometimes it's pretty horrible. Some people say it hasn't really come up all the way yet, because not everything has been in place. There's the three-month cycle, but then there are longer cycles, too. Who knows when everything might come together. Maybe in 10,000 years. Maybe next week."

I looked around and now I noticed footprints in the dirt and grass, not single ones like Sherlock Holmes could follow, but lots and lots of them, both people and animals. All around.

"Even in between times, it's dangerous up here," she said. "I don't want you coming back. I just wanted to show you."

"Yeah, Uncle talks about other things, that wander the woods all the time."

She grimaced. "Yeah, the Dark Young. Some people call them shoggoths, but technically they're not."

I had never heard of a shoggoth.

She grinned. "I stepped on one once."

I didn't believe that. "No way. Aren't they supposed to be big?"

"Adult ones grow as big as trees. I saw one once, across the valley. I saw it move. I ran back home and didn't go to the woods for a couple weeks. But the little one, a baby one, was right here on the island. About this size." She made a fist. "All black, thick legs the size of my fingers, and little tentacles like a sea anemone. It squealed. It surprised me, and I guess I surprised it, because I immediately tromped on it. It was like stepping on a rotten tomato. No bones."

"You've been here before, then."

"Yeah. Once."

"How'd you find this place?"

"I was walking through the woods, which my parents forbid me to do but I did anyway. I was 16. I was a late bloomer, but by then I looked kind of like I do now, but a little skinnier. Boys were really into me, and I was crazy about boys. I was constantly getting scolded about the way I dressed and acted. One afternoon I just got sick of it, sick of being bossed around, and I took off into the woods. Just a straight line. I would keep going until I saw something interesting. So it was by accident that I found this lake.

"I looked across, saw the island and decided that was my goal. I didn't want to have to explain wet clothes when I got back, so I took everything off and went skinny-dipping. I swam over to the island and came across the little creature. A lot of the whispered stories I had overheard were starting to make sense.

"The sun was starting to go down so I swam back. When I reached the shore Papa was waiting for me. He had followed me out. He was furious. Partly because I had disobeyed him, partly because I could have easily gotten into danger, and partly because I didn't have any clothes on. He tore off a tree branch, about as thick as my thumb, and started whipping me with it."

"Holy shit! He didn't let you get dressed?"

"No, he was that angry. After a few times he put it down and hugged me. He was crying. He thanked God I was safe and his daughter wasn't taken. By then I was crying too. I never wanted to make Papa feel that way again. I got dressed, we went home, and we never told Mama. But there was always the danger she would have found out."

"How?"

She turned away from me and peeked over her shoulder. "Scars. They're faint now, but you can see them if you know where to look."

I saw them. Little hash-marks, like furrows that had been filled in. On the small of her back and her bottom. There were still a few beads of water, and drips from her wet hair, but her skin was mostly dry now. Before I knew it, I had reached out and touched a scar on her right butt cheek. You could get slapped for touching a woman there. But she didn't slap me. "Does it hurt still?" I said.

"No. But you can feel it's still a little rough compared to my other skin."

Just the slightest bit. I followed one scar, then another, with my fingertips. The rest of her skin was so perfect and smooth. With my right hand, I stroked along all her scars. My left hand was on the front of her left thigh, and it was slowly slipping upwards, almost on its own. "Hey, Duane," she said, starting to say something, but then let it go.

My left hand rose like a balloon, sliding along her stomach. I didn't dare touch her pubes or pussy yet. If she was going to let me touch her, I wanted to go as far as I could -- without going too far. My right hand cupped her ass cheek. I was right next to her now, her shoulder against my chest. My finger grazed the bottom of her breast. She didn't turn away, she didn't really move, but she did take a deep breath, like she was at the doctor's. She let it out slowly. I could feel her heartbeat.

My hand was right below her left breast, my index finger resting against it. She seemed OK with that. Slowly, with just one finger, then the others, I drew them along the swell of her breast, as it moved out from her chest, then around and up. She sighed. I was close enough to kiss her neck, and her ear, and I was scared as shit to try it. Soon her nipple poked out between my middle and ring fingers. I tightened them just a bit and she made this breathy noise, like she was trying to hum. My dick was rock hard now, and poked at her hip.

"Duane," she said, and took my left hand in hers, and lifted it away from her breast. So that was it, I thought. She turned to me. She looked up at me and licked her lip, trying to decide what to say. I looked at the lip she had just licked and impulsively leaned forward and kissed her.

That set something off. She threw her arms around me and kissed back. My hands roamed all over her, grabbing her tits and ass and even feeling between her legs, and she never stopped kissing me, though she was making "mmm mmm" sounds while she did. I fumbled around between her legs, found her pussy lips, and stuck my finger inside. She was wet and warm, an unbelievable feeling.

She stooped down and brought me down as well, still kissing, and then laid on her back in the grass, letting her legs fall apart. There were no vague hints here. I kneeled down and for a couple seconds didn't move, because I was just staring at her, taking it all in. Her tits heaved as she breathed. Beneath her pubes and between her lovely legs was basically my heaven. I had never seen a real woman completely naked before. Her pussy lips were moist and slippery, and I wanted in there like nothing every before.

"Lick me first," she said, cupping her own tits. I leaned forward and kissed her lightly at first, exploring their curves. On her back, her tits separated a little, and I put my face in between, savoring the scent of her skin. I saved those stiff, dark nipples for last. I felt them pop out between my lips as I lifted my head. She loved that, and was moaning and squirming around on the grass.

My dick was starting to pulse, and from hundreds of jerkoff sessions I knew what was going to happen pretty soon. I wanted to be inside, and figured I would ask for forgiveness later. I hunched forward and by sheer luck I guess I slipped right inside. She got this big smile, but then that disappeared, as her eyes closed and her lips stayed open.

I was getting the hang of it, going in fast or slow, making it last, making her feel really good. She started raking her fingers along my back, and then clawing me. At first I wanted her to stop, because frankly it hurt, but after a while I got into it.

I felt like Neil Armstrong stepping onto the moon. This was unbelievable. Mission control: I've got Gloria naked, I sucked her fantastic tits, and now I'm fucking her. Over and out.

"Oh, god, Duane," she said, eyes still closed. "This feels so good." She grabbed my butt cheeks, like she wanted to push me in further each time I went in. "You're gonna make me come..." That worried me a bit; I didn't want to finish up before she did. I tried to hold back, stay hard, think of other things. But I couldn't. All there was was Gloria. Her pussy was sopping wet now, and she was breathing like she had run up a big hill.

I couldn't hold back any longer, and came. It was so intense I froze up and couldn't even keep thrusting. It almost hurt, it was so good. Way different from jacking off. I seemed to pump loads and loads of cum into her. She gave off a little scream and she spasmed, too. We caught our breath, and I lay on top of her, propping up with my hands like doing a pushup. 

She opened her eyes and gazed up at me with the same adoration I had always had for her. There was this comforting feeling that everything was right with the world. And then I woke up.

Just a dream. You can't believe how disappointing that was. I was back to real life, and only hooking up with Gloria in my fantasies. But I got over it after a few minutes. It was still an excellent dream. Can't take that away.

It was pitch dark, probably around 3 am, and I heard the rumbling again, and saw the light over the hill, flickering this time. Not the sunrise, and not some football stadium lights or something. I didn't get back to sleep until the sun started to come up.

A second later (so it seemed), Violet woke me, tapping me on the shoulder. "Rise and shine, sleepyhead," she said, smiling. She was leaning forward, and I looked straight down her really low-cut V-neck shirt at her fantastic tits. I couldn't help it. She didn't have a bra, either. The yellow shirt not only showed the texture of her nipples but the color, too. I wondered how far Paul got with her last night watching the movie. Maybe he stripped her. Maybe he fucked her on the couch, while Lily stared straight ahead at the Chinese girls running around naked in the movie.

It was a good thing I didn't mess the sheets during the Gloria dream. Vi would have been freaked by that.

I wear boxers to bed; I threw on a T-shirt and Violet took me to the kitchen. I could smell bacon frying. Lily was at the stove, still wearing her sleep clothes from last night, making breakfast. Paul sat at the table reading last Sunday's paper. "I was thinking of taking a look at that old well," he said. "Hal said it was no good, but it still looks like it can draw water."

"We've got the new one," I said. "West side of the yard."




Notebook Found in a Deserted House



"I'll just take a look," said Paul. We sat down and Lily served our food. I asked if I could say grace and he said "Suit yourself."

I gave thanks for the food we were sharing together and hoped that Uncle Harold was okay. Paul said if we didn't hear today, we could walk into town the next day and check on him. I wished there was a phone here. A few calls could have sorted everything out.

He asked how I liked the food. I didn't want to be the one getting Lily in trouble; I said it was delicious. It actually was pretty good, even though I liked the eggs more runny than she made them.

Paul didn't like the eggs and said they were too tough. Lily backed up against the counter cause she knew what was coming next. "Come here," he said, and she shook her head.

"Lily, get over there," said Violet, who could obviously be stern when she wanted to.

Lily faced the floor and walked slowly around the far side of the table to Paul. "Take off your panties," he said. She stood still, facing both of us. "Don't get yourself in more trouble," he warned.

Lily pushed her panties down partway to her knees. "All the way off," Paul said.

Violet got impatient and stood behind her, pulling them the rest of the way down. "I'll take these," she said, and Lily stepped out of them. Lily was nude from the belly button down. Her hips were narrow, with not nearly the curves her mom had. But she had fantastic legs and a jet black bush, trimmed a little so she'd look good in those skimpy panties. I felt bad, because they weren't treating her fair, and I felt guilt again for watching and enjoying what was happening.

"This side," Paul said, and Lily walked over to my side of him before kneeling down. Once again, I had a front row seat to Lily's bare-bottom spanking. "You've got to do better," he said, and swatted her hard. Her butt quivered from the impact and she started crying right away. He hit her 8 times in all, and her bottom looked more red this time. I couldn't look away.

It looked like he was done. Lily stayed where she was. "I'm sorry you have to see this, Duane," Violet said. "Sometimes she misbehaves. We decided long ago that we have to be strict about this."

Paul rested his hand on Lily's bottom. "We both love you, Lily, I hope you know that. Do you?" She said "Uh huh" between sobs. She was crying a little less now. "We don't want to hurt you." He stroked her bottom, massaging it lightly. Maybe that helped ease the pain and the redness.

"Now, Duane," said Paul, still massaging Lily's butt, "we're guests here, and I know we need to follow house rules. So if Lily doesn't obey, I want you to know you have the right to spank her as well. You don't need to ask."

"We'd rather you did," said Violet. "If she deserves it. Don't be soft on her."

I didn't think I could do that.

Paul spoke to Lily. "So if Duane needs you to be spanked, he'll do it, right?"

Lily said an "Uh huh" that was sorta high pitched. I noticed Paul's hand was kind of low on her bottom, almost where her legs start. Did I see him touch her pussy? Just for a moment, it was hard to tell. But it really looked like the tip of his middle finger had reached in and brushed her pussy lips. Violet probably wouldn't notice from where she sat. But Lily certainly would. What would have happened if no one else was around?

He let her take a shower and get dressed. She came back in a clean set of the same white shorts and T-shirt outfit she wore yesterday.

Paul went out to look at the well. Violet took down some of Uncle Harold's old books to the kitchen table and started taking notes. She asked for my help and I did the best I could.

Uncle Harold collected occult and science books as a hobby, but I never got the feeling he believed any of the occult ones. He was always a no-nonsense, show-me-the-proof kind of guy. The only thing Uncle accepted on faith alone was God. The bad stuff in the woods, he said he had seen some of that. He never wanted to fill me in on much detail.

Violet was taking those books all seriously, studying like she was in college. She opened one on ball lightning and I was able to tell her a lot about that. I'd read the book a few times myself and thought it was pretty cool. So we talked about ionized air, and how uncommon it was, and some of the stranger things that some people insisted they saw.

"You're pretty smart for a guy just out of high school," she said.

I wanted to keep a straight face, but I kind of laughed and looked down. "I, uh, dropped out in 8th grade. To help with the farm."

She scooted closer to me, our chairs right together, and patted me on the shoulder. "You ought to go back when you get a chance. You'll do really well."

That made me blush a little and I shrugged. "Thanks." I guess I was getting a crush on Violet, if it was that important what she thought of me. We were shoulder to shoulder now, leg to leg. She still wore her little gym shorts and that semi-see-thru V-neck shirt. When she was concentrating on a book, once in a while I'd take a peek down her shirt. I was fascinated by the way the curves of her full tits swooped under the shirt and out of sight.

There was some stuff I knew about, like dholes and spores, and other stuff I had never heard of. Like imaginary numbers. I snickered when she brought that up. What good were imaginary numbers? What could you do with them? Then she looked around and pulled out a regular college math book. And in there, they talked about these same imaginary numbers!

Lily had been in her room for a while and came out. She wore a little white bikini, a perfect fit for her slim body. With her shape, her smaller tits were just the right size. Violet's would have been too big. Anyway, Lily looked beautiful.

Violet called her over to ask about some archaeology stuff, and Indian artifacts. I offered my seat, but Lily said she'd stand. Maybe she was afraid of looking too selfish and getting spanked again. Instead she leaned over me, on the opposite side from Violet. Her hair spilled onto my shoulder, and sometimes her breasts pressed into my back. No hard feelings for what I had seen, then. It was really cozy between those two women, and I was getting into it. Luckily my boner was hid by the table.

It was late morning when Paul walked in. "Get dressed," he told Vi and Lily. "We're going to take a look in the woods." He turned to me. "Duane, you want to join us? We'll be out a few hours. I can pack another sandwich."

I had never ventured out there, and didn't think it was a good idea. "Uncle Harold said not to go in the woods around here. There's bad stuff out there." But as soon as I said it, I was afraid it sounded silly to them. Like something a scared little kid would say.

I guess it did sound silly, because Paul laughed. "Duane, your uncle is a good man. I'm not saying he isn't. But he talks about some things that are just stories. Legends. They're not true. The reason I'm here is that we're studying these legends. I teach anthropology down at UT."

"So there aren't really any ceremonies, or monsters, or anything?"

"No, none of that," Paul said. He pulled over a chair and sat down. "All legends are usually a way of explaining something the local people don't understand. Thunder, lightning, solar eclipses, that sort of thing. Your uncle might really believe these legends, or he might be pulling your leg, or he might have just wanted you to keep from wandering around in the woods and getting lost. There's probably no more harm in that than letting little kids believe in Santa Claus. But you're how old now -- 18? -- and it won't hurt you to find out that some things are made up."

My head was spinning. "But there's this abandoned town, where everyone was killed, and..."

"I know which one you're talking about. Town was called Prosperity Hollow. Yes, it's a ghost town, but only because the railroad passed it by around 1860. People didn't get eaten by monsters; they just moved out. Looked for better prospects."

He seemed to have an explanation for everything. He was being nice about it, but he clearly thought I was a scaredy-cat for hiding in the house because of what my uncle taught me. I still didn't want to go. Truth was, I didn't trust Paul that much, and I had this idea that going with him would be walking into a trap. Even with Violet there, who had been friendly so far; I didn't think she'd get between me and Paul. She'd mind what Paul said.

"Think I'll stay here," I said, trying to sound casual. "Maybe next time."

"That's fine," said Paul. It didn't seem like he cared one way or the other.

Violet and Lily came downstairs. "He's not joining us," Paul said. "I'm getting my camera." He went upstairs.

Lily didn't care either that I wasn't going, and was just patiently waiting to get going. But Violet looked disappointed. "Oh, I was hoping you'd come with us. Are you sure you don't want to come?"

Well, now I wasn't. But I didn't want to look wishy-washy, so I stuck with my decision.

"It's my first time going in the deep woods around here," Violet said. "Any advice?"

"Yeah. Watch out for pricker bushes. And ticks. And snakes." I was looking at her legs; she had on only those really small gym shorts and low-top tennis shoes. On hunting trips, I always wore jeans and boots, to fend off the things I had warned her about. Her bare legs were just out in the open. Up top, she still wore her sexy V-neck shirt: going into the woods without a bra. I didn't make any Ranger Rick comments about that.

She saw me looking at her legs and glanced down there too, looking worried. But she decided to stay dressed the way she was. "I hope I'll be all right. You hold down the fort for us, okay, Duane?"

I gave her a mock salute. She must have liked that, because she laughed and blew me a kiss, her lips puckered like Marilyn Monroe's. I watched out the living room window as they left. By coincidence, they walked out the south side of the yard into the woods: the same direction Gloria took me in the dream. I wondered if this was the last I would see of them; maybe they'd disappear just as suddenly as they showed up. 

With all three gone, I read for a while and watched one of Uncle's movies, the Under Siege sequel. It didn't have any naked Chinese chicks, but it was still pretty good.

I didn't know what to think about the "legends." I had believed my uncle all these years. Living out here, he should know the best. And he had all those books that talked about it. But what if Paul was right, and they were just legends. Like horoscopes or alien abductions; things that lots of people think are true but really are not?

I was glad I didn't go. I wished Violet could have stayed. I really hoped she wouldn't get bitten or scratched up. The more I thought about it, I knew Uncle was right. Maybe not about every detail, but there was bad stuff happening in the woods.

I hoped Paul didn't have anything bad planned for the women.

It turned out I had nothing to worry about. Mid-afternoon, they returned. "You should have come with us," Paul said. "Saw some neat stuff. Next time I'll show you."

"Cool," I said, thinking I wouldn't be going next time, either.

Paul followed Lily upstairs. Violet sat on the couch and took off her shoes and socks.

"How'd the hike go?" I said.

"Great! No snakebites." She smiled. "No scratches, and as far as I know, no ticks." She furrowed her brow. "If a tick bit me, would I know right away?"

"Maybe not. Sometimes you get an itch later, or a bump, or something. We usually do a check when we get back to camp or to the house."

"I wouldn't even know what to look for." She raised her right leg, extending it straight out. "Could you check for me?"

I stared at her for a moment. At her leg. Her bare foot was pointing basically at my crotch. I'm sure she didn't mean anything by that. But still... me touching her leg? Was she sure about that?

"I don't bite," she said, grinning. "Don't be shy."

I took her foot in my hands, checking her ankle and shin for ticks or bites. I turned it gently, then felt it for any bumps.

"I hope my feet don't stink too much."

"No, no." I said. I didn't mind at all. I checked the arch and sole, even though she'd had her shoes on. She was showing a hell of a lot of leg, and I could even see the thin strip of her shorts that passed between them. Behind that: oh, boy.

"Do ticks jump?" She looked worried again.

"Fleas do," I said. But on the other had, weren't fleas like ticks? "But, they can be in the bushes and stuff, or jump off of leaves. So yeah, they could."

"Then they could have bitten me anywhere!"

"Except where you're covered up. I don't think they crawl under clothes."

"Could you do my legs higher up?" she said. Meanwhile, she grazed her fingertips along one arm, then the other, looking for telltale bumps. She checked her neck, and then I watched hypnotized as she drew her fingers along the swells of her breasts that the V-neck exposed. She caught me looking, smirked, and glanced down at her legs. I got the message. Back to work. 

I held her calf in one hand while I explored it with the other. She let me support its weight, letting it rest in my hand, which seemed like a sign of comfort, or trust. I loved the feeling of her skin; I could have kept this up for hours. 

"About being covered up..." she started to say, looking guilty.

"Yeah?"

"There was this island in a lake..."

So the island was real. If she noticed my look of surprise, she dismissed it.

"... and I wanted to swim over, but didn't bring any swim stuff. So I took everything off. So the ticks might have gotten me anywhere."

I had stopped checking her leg. I had stopped moving. Gloria had been a dream; but Violet had really jumped in naked and swam to the island. Suddenly I wished I had gone along.

She grinned again, this mischievous grin I was starting to really like, and spoke softly, "Some places I don't think it'd be a good idea for you to check. As far as Paul's concerned."

As if to underline what she said, we heard footsteps on the stairs. I immediately stood up and stepped back. She put her legs together and folded her hands in her lap primly. When Paul came down, that's what he saw. He looked at us, and we looked at him. I'm sure he noticed something was off.

"I'm going back to work on the well," he grunted, and went outside.

Lily came down and asked if she could go outside and sunbathe. "Sounds like a good idea," Violet said. "I'll join you." To me, she said, "We're going to lay out in the front yard," something I had already figured out. The way she said it didn't really sound like an invitation. I said I'd take care of some other stuff and see them later.

Violet went to her room and changed into her own bikini, a high-cut pink one. It was awesome. It showed even more leg than her tiny shorts, of course, and her heart-shaped ass fit snugly in the bikini bottom. Her tits stretched the triangles of her top, and her nipples, though not even hard, made telltale bumps. The bikini would have looked great on an 18-year-old girl; on Violet, who was an adult and a mom, it looked scandalous. The effect was even hotter.

She already knew I thought she was sexy; hell, she probably knew I was imagining her jumping naked into that lake. She wiggled her butt and gave a little chuckle. "See you later, Duane," she said, blowing me another kiss over her shoulder. Damn, she was a good flirt. My dick was already hard. She probably noticed that too.

She carried out a blanket and a paperback book, and spread the blanket out on that patch of yard that gets the best sun. She lay on her stomach and started to read. Lily put on sunglasses and lay on her back next to her. I watched them through the living room window. Violet just turned a page every once in a while. Lily went to sleep.

I had been curious about something, and didn't want to invade Lily's privacy; but eventually I just had to know and I snuck into her room. It was just as I thought. Every piece of clothing she owned was white. She owned about five sets of the same things, plus sleepwear, bathing suits, and other stuff. She even had a couple of sheer panties that were still frosty white. Weird.

I wanted to figure out a way to hang out next to Violet and Lily, but couldn't think of a good excuse. Pretending to work on a tan seemed silly and they'd see through that. Also, Paul was in the yard, working on the well. Probably wouldn't want me eyeballing his wife and daughter. The fact they were both hot would not be a good enough excuse.

He was chipping away at the cement cap Uncle Hal had put on. I thought that was a dumb idea, but hell, that first draw of water, and the second, and every one afterward, would convince Paul more than I could that he had wasted his time.

Vi was still lying on her stomach. She reached back and untied her bikini top, then returned to her book. Even though I couldn't really see much more than before, this was getting more and more interesting.

Paul took a break from the well. He walked over to his wife, crouched down and put a hand on her back, stroking her a little. Hel-lo. She turned her head without getting up and mouthed a kiss at him. She was looking in my direction to do this, but I hoped she didn't see me looking. He leaned down and kissed her neck. She put her book aside, done reading for a while. He started massaging her back, gently, like putting suntan lotion on. He moved his hands to her sides, and then underneath a little, which I guess is a husband's privilege. She only encouraged this, propping up on her elbows, giving him freer access. I got a brief side view of her left tit hanging free before Paul took both in his hands.

I had seen it coming, but Paul actually doing that surprised me. Lily was right there. Just like during the movie last night, they had no qualms about doing stuff right in front of their daughter.

He fondled Vi's tits for a while; she closed her eyes and started squirming a bit. That must have felt really good, to go topless in the warm air and have a guy touch her there, turning her on. I wondered if her pussy was getting wet. Would he take her inside the house? Would he have her put her top back on first, or not?

Paul let go and moved back. She stayed on her elbows and I zeroed in on her bare tit. You could stay right there for a while, Vi, I thought. I hoped Paul wouldn't look toward the window and see me peeking out.

He took her bikini bottom and peeled it down to her knees. I silently thanked him. Whatever differences we had, he was doing a good deed now. What a great ass Violet had. I thought for a moment he was going to spank her, too, a little fun spank. She was certainly doing nothing wrong. He stripped the bikini all the way off, so her legs would be free. I looked forward to seeing Vi's naked bottom quiver.

Instead, Paul worked a hand between her thighs. This was awesome. He'd stripped his wife naked and was feeling her up. What a show.

But I was starting to get jealous. He was doing, and I was only watching. Violet was so hot, Paul had her, and I didn't have anybody. Not even Gloria, except in a dream. And maybe Gloria had a boyfriend anyway. I had never had the guts to ask her. And I wasn't ever going to meet anybody, stuck out at this house.

Violet waved Paul off; maybe concerned about doing this in front of Lily. I got ready to pretend I wasn't watching just in case they came inside. He gave her a soft smack on her bare butt, really a love tap, and stood up. Was he going to help put her bikini back on? No. He went back to working on the well. She returned to her book. I guess she had no problems with being out there naked. Of course, there was a lot of privacy out here in the woods.

Lily looked like she had ignored the whole thing.

Violet didn't move much as she read; there wasn't much going on. But I must have spent at least a half-hour just watching her. There was the side view of her breast, squished against the blanket a little; and her curvy bare ass. I was thinking maybe I should offer to get them a drink or something. An excuse to get a closer look. Maybe she wanted some more suntan lotion put on. But her husband was right out there. Probably a bad idea.




Notes



She's been watching me for almost two weeks now! 

I swear she's at the library every time I am! And that's a lot!

I know that she's finally realized I've been watching her. I've let her believe I don't know she knows. Our eyes have met a couple of times...

I look away quickly.

I'm starting to see her outside of the library. I've seen her in the cafe quite a bit. I wonder if she lives on campus too?

I've left her a note today. She always sits at the same table. I left the note taped to the spot where she sets her books down. I've written nothing too forward, just "hi", and some other inanities.

She wasn't in the library today, at least, not that I saw. I'm glad. That note she left for me confused me enough. I don't think I'd have been able to study at all if I knew that she was there watching me.

I'm glad the lecture classes here are so huge. It makes it very easy to watch her from a crowd. She's so studious. Too bad all of her classes aren't lectures.

She's left another note for me. Funny, I don't remember seeing her in that class before, or today either. But, there's no other way she could have known the details of my presentation, if she hadn't been there... right? I'll write her back, today. Maybe get some answers, finally.

Her letters to me have become increasingly chatty. She's lonely. She tells me of her classes; her roommates; her family, her friends. She tells me her feelings, longings and desires. 

I don't know why I'm writing this stuff to her! It's so silly! I can't believe that she actually reads all of this! But, I know that she does.

I'm writing to her more now than I do in my own journal.

Today she's mentioned her brother's upcoming Bar Mitzvah, and how she's troubled that she's nothing to wear, and no money for a new dress.

That dress she bought for me was perfect! I can't believe she knew my size! I can't believe she bought me a dress! It must have cost a fortune... but I couldn't possibly say "no", could I? I left her a picture today, under my usual note. It's of me, in the dress. I asked the photographer to take it especially for her.

The weather is getting warmer now. Spring has finally crawled into New England. She's wearing less and less. It's a truly tempting sight! 

Even better, she's taking my 'advice' more and more on what she should wear. I do believe she's found she likes me telling her what to do. She's growing into her role nicely.

Next week, we talk. Maybe.

She likes my hair down, even in this hot weather. She likes the way my legs look in denim shorts, and the way my tummy peeks out below my t-shirt when I stretch. She tells me that pastel yellow is a good color on me, but brilliant red is better. I cut down three pairs of jeans, shrunk a handful of t-shirts, and died a tank top strawberry red. I want her to tell me how lovely

I am. I want her to tell me how when I tug at my shorts, I make her shiver. I want her to tell me more!

She smiles when she comes in to the library now. She can't wait to see if I've left another letter for her. I can see that she's really disappointed when I haven't. She still looks for me, whether the letter is there or not.

I didn't even see her walk up to me! I feel like such a fool! There was no note today. I looked around for her, but I didn't see her. Then, when I'd just finished my French homework, she appeared at the corner of the table. She didn't even slow down... just walked past and smiled at me. She was so close and I couldn't get my mouth to work! I never even noticed her slip me the invitation.

I didn't think she'd come to the party. Crowds just aren't her scene. She's shy and quiet, prefers the library or the tea-house on campus.

I can't believe I'm here! I should never have talked myself into this! There are so many people here, and the apartment feels so tiny! I haven't even talked to her yet! What on earth made me think that this was a good idea, coming out to meet her like this?!

She's edgy, scared. I've poured her a drink. Her instructions are written on the cup. I know she'll follow them. She's already here. And she's wearing the outfit I chose.

I saw her hand the cup to that guy. I sort of know him. He's been in most of my lit classes since freshman year. I was surprised when he handed the drink to me. Surprised, that is, until he carefully turned the cup in my hand and smiled mischievously. 

"Finish your drink slowly. Say 'hi' to your friends. When the conversation turns to Buffy, excuse yourself and come up the back stairs." 

I'm so excited I can hardly chat. I'm sure my friends know something's up! At least the drink is good, fruity and mild.

I've set up everything. The note instructing her not to speak is taped to the wall at the top of the stairs. The satin ties for blindfold and gag are near at hand. The delicate glove-leather collar has tag all printed. She will not say

'no'. I am certain of it.

I open the door to find a softly lit bedroom. The wispy drapes flutter a bit in the breeze from the open windows. There is a large canopy bed, but all the pillows have been piled on the floor. She's sitting in the chair across the room. Her encouraging smile sends tingles all through my body. She beckons me toward her.

She enters the room. She is visibly shaking. Though, by the look on her face, it's difficult to tell whether she is trembling from fear or from anticipation. She stands before me.

"Kneel." She sinks to her knees. She doesn't even hesitate.

I can't think straight! My blood rushes in my ears. 

She's spoken to me! It's the first I've heard her voice. And I want to swoon.

She stands in front of me. Standing up on my knees like this I come barely to her waist. She's so gentle and so firm and so deliberate.

I trace my finger down her jaw. Her skin is soft and smooth. She unconsciously leans in to my touch. I smile. I cannot help myself. I hand her the note card with the rules.

"One weekend.

You will not be hurt, but limits will be pushed.

Obedience is mandatory.

No speaking.

Nod or shake your head when asked a question.

One weekend. Mine."

I'm in shock. Utterly and completely.

"Do you agree?"

I find myself nodding. I can't believe I'm saying 'Yes'! I can't believe I'm doing this!

She's frightened. I can see the trace of tears in her eyes. 

But she's nodding. She's saying 'yes'. I take her face in my hands. She's so pliant, so obedient. So perfect.

She leans down to kiss me. The touch of her lips on mine is like lightening. I can't believe I'm feeling this! I can't believe the tingling in the pit of my stomach. I can't believe the softness of her touch and how incredible it's making me feel.

I walk around her. She sways lightly on her knees. She is leaning easily into my hand on her shoulder. I take the satin blindfold and let it drag along her bare shoulders. A sigh escapes her lips.

She's tying the scarf around my eyes. She's so very gentle.

Her hands roam over my body. Her touch burns! I have goose bumps!

I run my hands down her sides. She's so svelte. Her skirt floats above the floor where she kneels. The curve of her tush beckons my touch.

She crouches behind me as her hands slide down my sides. One hand slips under my skirt. I ought to stop her. I ought to close my legs. I ought to...

She's wet, soaked through her panties.

"Is this my fault?" I whisper in her ear.

Her fault?! Of course it's her fault!

"Well?" She breathes. Hurriedly I nod 'yes'.

A little slow on the uptake but she'll learn.



Notes From A Secret Admirer



Author's Foreword—

This is my ninth posting to Literotica and my first posting in the "First Time" genre. The following is a true story. You are invited to visit my profile's archive to find my previous postings; I hope you enjoy them.

John W. Adams, Jr., November 23, 2008

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

This posting is going to involve me tripping and stumbling down Melancholy Boulevard; it parallels Memory Lane and is much less pleasant to drive. If you're not in the mood for some mutterings about my long-gone days of youth, back-click out of here and find something more exciting to read.

That said, and presuming you're still here...

As per normal operating procedure on a Friday morning after work, I stopped by the College Street house to pick up my mail (if any) and to catch up on the news with my kids, grandsons and ex-wife. My idiot ex-brother Roy was there along with his even more idiot wife Betty and their middle child Dusty. I think Dusty is fourteen and a freshman in high school. While I was there, he was expounding at length to Nancy and his mom about the mystifying annoyance in his life—some girl thinks he's cute and has been leaving secret admirer notes in his locker. Dusty was torturing his brain trying to figure out who she is. I know how the kid feels.

His laments triggered a long-dormant memory within the brain of your humble author. I too used to receive secret admirer (herein SA for brevity) notes back in the dark ages known as the mid-1970s when I was Dusty's age. I got one in my 8th grade year, eight during my freshman year and two in my sophomore year.

The single SA note in 8th grade was received in February 1975, a week before Valentine's Day. I was attending Rome City Middle School (herein RCMS) at the time and a chick slipped it into my locker through one of the vent slots stamped into the door. She said among other things that she thought I was "devilishly handsome" and had "heartwarming blue eyes" and wanted me to meet her at the Valentine Day's Dance that Friday. Then as now, I don't dance—I don't know how and have no interest in learning. Dancing is to me something to be watched on American Bandstand, which was still running on Saturday afternoons at the time on ABC-TV. She didn't leave her name or tell me her locker number so I could write her and suggest an alternate place to meet. I didn't go to that dance; not that I wasn't interested, but our family went out to eat that evening. No other SA notes were forthcoming and nobody confronted me about not attending the dance. Life went on.

There is something you need to understand about my high school system. East Noble High School (herein EN) is centrally located here in Kendallville and is supplied with ninth- to twelfth-grade students from my small hometown of Rome City, as well as Avilla, LaOtto and Kendallville itself. All us RCMS kids went from having maybe sixty classmates to over 350 as part of EN's graduating class of 1979, and it was rare to have more than four or five of your middle school mates in a given class with you. It's my understanding that EN's system is unique; when I explained this to others in Arizona, Delaware and Tennessee, they thought it was strange to bus kids to a centrally located high school building in the next town.

To continue— I first started getting SA notes as a freshman in mid-September 1975, three weeks after starting the school year. This chick told me she thought I was "quite cute" and liked the way "you don't back to the bullies who heckle and berate you in class." She mentioned I was in two of her classes, but didn't say which ones, and said she wanted "to get to know you better." She hoped we could exchange messages and eventually come to know each other through correspondence before she would agree to reveal her identity.

It seemed to me at the time that she wanted me to blindly pour my heart and soul into my messages without knowing one damned thing about her. I was instantly wary; I had come too close to getting burned in seventh grade by two guys a year ahead of me at RCMS wanting almost the same thing. Two numb-nuts had gotten hold of some pink, flowery and perfumed stationery to write their messages on, and I might have fallen for it had it not been for their obviously masculine handwriting. The fake SA notes were discarded and, about a week or so later, the 8th grade guys confronted me about my lack of reply. I told them to go fornicate a mallard and that was that.

As such, in reply to my freshman SA, I wrote a polite semi-businesslike letter and said that I was flattered by her attraction and interest. But I spelled out the reasons you read in the previous paragraph and stated that I preferred to do away with the games. "I'm not saying you would, but I don't want to fall victim to such nonsense again," I wrote. "Please sign any future notes with your real first and last names so we can proceed from there." My message was folded in the time-honored tradition—vertically five or six times before being folded into a triangular shape, like an American flag is folded during a military funeral. Then I slipped it into her locker through one of the vents. To this day I remember her locker number; it was 1227.

Her second SA note was waiting in my locker upon my arrival the next morning, and her tone was something of playful amusement. She said I was "manly" for "demanding" to know her name and said she could not supply it just yet. "You'll understand as we get to know each other better," she explained. It was signed just like her previous missive with "Your Secret Admirer." This note had been adorned with smiley faces and arrow-pierced heart-shaped doodlings with "John 'n Me" written with the heart. She even thought to omit her name from her cutesy artwork! I mean, she could've given me a bloody clue!

My reply was less friendly and more terse. I repeated my position about needing to know her name and reasons for same. Then I implied the priority to write any further replied would be "put on the back burner" if she did not comply. It was folded into a triangle and slipped into locker 1227 on my way to class.

Her SA note number three was more of the same, plus a bit more. There were more romantic doodlings, more amusement in the tone of her writing and she asked a few questions I wasn't about to reply to on paper. Such things have a way of circulating to people of lesser ilk, intended or not. She told me to "be patient and play along, at least for awhile yet" and promised that I wouldn't be disappointed when "the big reveal" finally arrived. This was also signed "Your Secret Admirer."

This was not what I wanted to hear and it annoyed the hell out of me! Why fuck around with the silly games?! She was going to have to reveal herself to me anyway if she hoped to turn her letter writing campaign into something more like a teenage courtship. Why not simply do it sooner than later and save everybody the mystery and stress? Furthermore, I considered it unfair—she knew at least something of me, yet I knew nothing about her. So I was not in the best of moods when I wrote my reply number three and delivered an ultimatum. "From now on, your messages will be unfolded only far enough to read the signature. If it doesn't contain your real first and last names, I'll fold it up again and take it home for filing. The contents will be unknown and no reply will be sent. When you finally do decide to tell me who you are, I'll go back and read your previous messages. But not before. Tell me who you are and let's move on from there." It was delivered and I went about my business.

Note four took two days to come. As promised, I opened it, looked at the signature and saw her typical "Your Secret Admirer" where her name should be. It was promptly refolded and stashed in my pocket. When I got home, I filed it in my handmade cedar box (about 2/3 the size of a typical textbook) bought in Cheyenne, Wyoming in August 1972 during a trip my mom, grandmother, cousin, brother and I took out there to visit family. No reply was written or sent.

Note five came four days later. It too was opened just to read the signature and refolded and ignored when I didn't see what I wanted to see. It was also ignored. Note six came four days after that. I was running a bit late and I shoved it into my pocket to read at lunch—presuming she signed it properly.

Enter the accomplice. A blonde RCMS chick stopped me and had two non-RCMS girls with her. I'll refer to the blonde as "ZZ" to respect her present-day privacy; who is to say if a former East Noble classmate might stumble upon this Literotica posting? Anyway, ZZ said she saw that I'd gotten another SA note and wondered why I hadn't replied yet. I told her I was holding true to my word about reading just the signature and ignoring the rest if it wasn't properly signed. One of ZZ's two-chick entourage pointed out that my SA might have good reasons to deny my request at the present time. "Maybe she does," I countered, "But I have equally good reason to have my request be honored. No reply will be forthcoming until she does." ZZ turned to them and said I could be "notoriously stubborn" about such things, and I accepted that as a compliment. Hall passage time was drawing to a close and we parted company for class.

SA note seven arrived three days later. It was treated just like its predecessors and filed in the cedar box. Note eight was waiting for me upon arrival at school the Monday morning of Homecoming Week. It was checked for a signature, refolded and stashed in the cedar box that evening. Homecoming Week progressed—East Noble lost the football game to the Angola Hornets, dammit—and I'm told the dance afterwards went well despite the loss. No further SA notes came in the days and weeks following Homecoming, and ZZ and her two-babe entourage did not inquire about them again. Life went on.

In November 1976, I was dragged away from EN and incarcerated at Central Noble High School in nearby Albion—I hated that fuckin' school as it was populated mostly by farmers and illiterate rednecks! They talked about John Deere and Allis-Chalmers tractors the way car guys discuss Fords and Mopars! My family moved to Arizona in June 1978, then to Delaware in May 1984, then back to Indiana in March 1985, then I married Nancy in June 1985. We had our daughter in September 1986, our son arrived in December 1988, and we bought the College Street house in July 1992.

Now it's December 1993. I'm 33 years old, Nancy and I have been married for eight and a half years, our son just turned five and we've been in the house for sixteen months. Nancy asked me to go through some of my boxes of stuff stored in the utility room to make room for "more storage." If by this you think my stuff had to go to make more room for her stuff, you obviously have a deep and solid understanding of female logic. Give yourself a gold star.

So I pulled down a large box. Inside I found a smaller box surrounded by stuff. Inside that smaller box is another box surrounded by more stuff. Inside that box is another box because the inner box is quite old. Inside that old box is some stuff and a small cedar box carefully wrapped in plastic and sealed with at least thirty feet of masking tape. I gingerly picked up the cedar box as old memories came flooding back. Most of the masking tape had long since dried out so opening it proved easy. Opening the lid revealed a set of car keys to a 1956 Packard Patrician sedan pilfered from a derelict in a junkyard, the glovebox emblem and the clock assembly from that Packard, an age-petrified seventeen-stick pack of Juicy Fruit gum with six sticks missing, a small electric motor from only God knows where—

And eight pieces of paper folded into triangles.

I felt my mouth go dry as I picked up one at random. It had "To John" written on one side within an arrow-skewered heart. On the other side was my own handwriting with "#4" written on it; even then, I was pretty anal about dating and filing things. The old cardboard box which had contained the cedar box had been packed by me in October 1976 in anticipation of the detested move from Rome City to Albion. The contents of both boxes hadn't seen the light of day in nearly two decades.

I gathered up the triangles and arranged them in chronological order. My task forgotten, I began to read through my long-forgotten SA notes. The wording of the first three came back quickly. The tone and wording of notes four through eight, as yet unknown to me except for the signatures, were more sobering. Note four was pretty much the same as the first three; I guess my SA didn't think I was serious about not reading and replying to them. The tone of note five was bewilderment and had a plea to write. The bewildered tone was much more pronounced in note six, and there was more pleading for me to write to her. All of note seven's tone was urgent pleading, and there was even an undertone of desperation.

Note eight, her last one, had a tone of hopeful resignation. I'll relate as much of it as I can remember...

First paragraph. "My dearest John," she started out, "I am both saddened and disappointed by your continued silence." She drew a frowning smiley face here with two tears coming out of each closed eye. "ZZ told me about some of your history during middle school and I understand your hesitation to trust someone you don't know. She says it's unlikely you're not reading my notes because you are 'too curious' about me not to. I'm wary to accept her word on this because I overheard what you said about 'I meant what I said and said what I meant' that time ZZ stopped you in the hallway. My dad says that a lot too and he's not one to change his mind once set on a course of action."

Second paragraph. "Still, ZZ knows you better than me since you two went to RCMS together, so I'm accepting that she knows best. So I'm writing on the assumption she's right and that you are indeed reading my notes but not answering them until you get what you want."

Side point—she shouldn't have done this; I did indeed mean what I said about reading just the signature and ignoring the rest if there was no name. It could be my SA was inadvertently led astray be well-meaning but inaccurate advice.

Third paragraph. "It's a strange feeling to have you stand by your convictions even when they are working against me. I feel like you're slipping away from me, my darling John, and I really don't want this to happen. So I'll propose a compromise instead. Friday is the Homecoming Week football game against Angola and there will be a dance afterwards in the gym. Instead of telling you who I am, I would like you to meet me at the dance. I know from ZZ and a couple of others that you don't dance and that's okay! We can just sit together and talk, get to know each other and groove on the music. Maybe after awhile, if I'm lucky and you get that comfortable with me, we could slip onto the dance floor for a Fonzie dance. The thought of finally having your arms around me makes me tingle." She underlined the word "tingle" and drew a smiley face with a round mouth and five-pointed stars where the eyes should be.

Historical side point— the term "Fonzie dance" was slang used by EN students back in the day for the kind of dancing you saw The Fonz doing on the old Happy Days sitcom. Basically it was just a slightly swaying hug no matter how fast or slow the music was playing. Not really a dance, I know, but it was the only kind of dance I was even remotely interested in back then.

Fourth paragraph. "I'll be wearing a blue denim jumpsuit with a gold macramé belt and a yellow plastic flower in my hair above my right ear. That flower will be yours to take home so you can always remember the first time we met. Do guys keep keepsakes like this?" She drew a bewildered looking smiley face with a question mark above it. "I hope you are indeed reading my notes as ZZ says. And I also hope you come to the dance to meet me. But if you don't reply to this and you don't attend the dance, I'll presume you are not interested and I'll stop bothering you. After all, my darling John, I like you SO much that I'd rather see you happy with someone else than merely content with me." She then signed off with her typical "Your Secret Admirer."

You have no idea how hard it was to read that. The first time I knew my secret admirer wanted to meet me was eighteen years after the fact.

I got two more SA notes early in my sophomore year at EN, before I was dragged kicking / screaming / swearing away to attend Central Noble. The brand of paper was different from my freshman SA, as was the handwriting. This person was bluntly told to provide her real name or not to bother me. Her reply was giggly, girlie and gushy as she said I was "quite a catch" for being so "stand-up honest and forthright." My reply was snarling and unkind, as I demanded her to give me her real name and do away with the stupid games. I did not hear from her again and I left EN five weeks later.

To this day, I do not know whom my freshman SA was. It has been thirty-two years and I do not have the slightest clue. I didn't think to ask ZZ at the 25-year reunion back in July 2004—not that she would remember it or tell me if she did. I suppose it is possible she was one of the two-girl entourage with ZZ that time she stopped me in the hall just after note six was received. But that's just a guess. It wasn't ZZ herself because, on more than one occasion back in our middle school days, she told me "I'd love to date you, John, if I wasn't seeing someone else." Never mind that I never saw her with anyone else; I know a polite brush-off when I see it.

Whoever my secret admirer was, I wish her all due happiness and success. I really do. I hope she found a man to make her tingle as I never could. Perhaps if she had been more accommodating and I had been a helluva lot less stubborn, we could've clicked in a way I always wished Nancy and I had clicked, yet never did even after twenty-one years together during our now-failed marriage. My parents explained to my brother and me years after the fact that the move to Albion would never have happened if he or I had a girlfriend at the time. If the move to Albion hadn't happened, Nancy and I would never have met and my life history could have been much more fulfilling and complete.

Too bad I'll never know.

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Copyright © 2008 by the author, John W. Adams, Jr. All right reserved.



Notes From The Underground







Notes From The Underground



With the New Social Contract in place, peace, prosperity and personal freedom guaranteed to all, and a new order of social elites firmly entrenched, the 24th century ushered in the first near utopian world in human history. Those who disagree are few in number and chiefly composed of society's outcasts and malcontents. These are rightly ignored. However there are others, albeit few in number, but nonetheless witnesses to the realities of this utopia, and their disagreement cannot be so easily dismissed. For they have experienced first hand both its wonders and its horrors and both are paradoxically yet unsurprisingly found in the same place: at the top. It is there that this near-perfect world is ruled with a cunning and subtle yet iron fist by an elite group of ruthless, fabulously wealthy, and equally powerful women determined to maintain and extended their control. 

For the brave few who have seen and yet who disagree, life is a harsh contradiction where near-naked slaves coexist with interplanetary transports bearing untold wealth; where goods are causally dispensed and friendships even more causally betrayed; and where amorality is valued even more highly than the most precious metals or rare gems. To these few, under the ever watchful eye of a jealous and powerful elite, tormented by this spectacle of material wealth and moral poverty, there is only rebellion… 

Chapter 1: It's a Wonderful Life

The petite dark brown haired woman pulled her legs up and curled them under herself on the large dark-red leather sofa. She had a slight figure and youthful appearance that belied her 50 plus standard years. In fact, those meeting her for the first time would have sworn she was not more that 17 standard years. At least until they met her cold intelligent eyes. However with her legs curled under her on the large sofa, she looked even more child-like than usual. Next to her, and seated in an over-stuffed chair of the same dark leather, sat a handsome (but slightly overweight and matronly) woman, wearing a black silk robe. On the floor at their feet sat a woman with flaming red hair, naked except for a diaper. The matronly woman absently stroked the red hair of the slave at her feet and said, "Have all the arrangements been made?"

"Yes Mistress" replied the petite woman. 

"Good. My transport was delayed and I am tired and anxious to relax. Is she here?"

"Yes Mistress. She is waiting."

"You have, of course, spoken to her about the importance of the situation, and the consequences of failure."

"Yes Mistress. I spoke with her this afternoon, before you arrived. She was upset, as expected, but she is an intelligent woman and the logic our arguments were more than persuasive. "

The matronly woman nodded, thinking, as she continued to run her fingers though the red hair of the slave at her feet "And the other preparations?"

"Almost complete; I have scheduled a meeting with the principals tomorrow afternoon. Our agents on the mainland are making the final arrangements. I expect to proceed within the week."

"Excellent! I am worried however. The events of the last decade have been disturbing. Public opinion has been shifting, as you well know. Up to now, we have been able to keep things in control. However, an incident could prove troublesome. There is a lot at stake here. Almost two decades of work, not to mention the expense."

The petite woman nodded thoughtfully and said, "Yes Mistress that is true. But we have taken every precaution to minimize the risk. Our models indicate success by an overwhelming margin, even with problems."

The matronly woman stopped stroking the red hair, and waved her hand. "Yes I know. Still this woman is the weak link in the chain. If anything happens, it will cause complications; unfortunate complications."

"I know. Although she is our primary resource we have backups."

The matronly woman raised her eyebrows and went back to stroking the red hair. "Good!" 

"Also, after seeing you, I am sure any thought she might entertain of being uncooperative will disappear."

"Humph!" snorted the matronly woman. "We shall see. Bring her in."

The petite woman spoke softly in the direction of the door.

Twenty seconds later a thin woman with short blonde hair entered the room. A surprised look came over her face when she saw the matronly woman. Without thinking she said, "You're…"

"Yes, I am" said the matronly woman cutting her off. "But we are not here to discuss me."

The blonde woman blinked, taken aback by her own outburst. She visibly fought to maintain her composure. There was a lot at stake for her and she could not afford to make any mistakes. "Yes Mistress", she replied finally. 

But it was the petite woman who spoke next. "We have been reviewing your situation and want to confirm that you fully understand its gravity." As she finished speaking, her eyes moved ever so slightly in the direction of the diapered slave.

This gesture was not lost on the blonde, who followed her glance and swallowed hard. The red-headed slave was well known to her. She sat at the feet of her Mistress, eyes downcast, not daring to look up. She had been a slave for nearly twenty years and knew her place well. A cold shudder of dread went down the blonde's spine as she looked at the diapered slave. This was the worst fate anyone could suffer, one that she was trying to avoid at all costs. But the presence of the matronly woman was completely unexpected and significantly more ominous. She would have to be very careful. These were very, very powerful women; perhaps the most powerful women on the planet. One misstep and she would be wearing diapers herself! The blonde glanced at the red-headed slave again. The matronly woman was running her fingers through her hair, idly, like one would pet a dog while reading. The display of power sent another shudder though her spine. She knew the presence of the slave was not mere coincidence. These women were too calculating for that and too powerful to require an overt display of authority. It was clearly meant to send a message, one that was not lost on the blonde. She forced herself to look at the deceptively child-like woman on the sofa and said, "I do understand."

The matronly woman looked at her coolly, but he petite woman said, "I am sure you do. However, our timetable is tight and it is important that you follow your instructions to the letter and without delay." A less intelligent woman, or perhaps a less powerful one might have added, "or else". But the petite woman's demeanor, despite her child-like looks, made it both unnecessary and simultaneously more threatening by its absence. 

The blonde felt yet another shiver traverse her spine. "Yes Mistress, it shall be done, just as you have instructed; and on schedule also."

"Very well", said the petite woman. "There is a transport waiting to take to back. You may leave now."

"Yes Mistress", said the blonde moving quickly to the door. 

When she had left, the matronly woman glanced at her companion and said, "Any other business for tonight."

"No Mistress; nothing that can't wait till tomorrow."

"Good". And with that, she unfastened her robe exposing her naked body underneath. Taking the slave by her red hair, she pushed her face between her legs. The slave immediately kissed her Mistress's pussy and began licking it. The petite woman stood up and left the room without comment. The matronly woman sighed, and relaxed into the chair spreading her legs further apart to give the slave more room to perform her task. "God! It's a wonderful life, sometimes" she thought to herself. The slave sensing her Mistress's desire stuck her tongue into her vagina and at the same time began urinating uncontrollably into her diaper.

Chapter 2: The Lives of a Bengal Lancer

Erin Brooke ran her fingers though the black hair of her pussy, luxuriating in its silky feel. Even though it had been years since she had been forced to live without pubic hair, its very presence never failed to please and reassure her. Erin almost smiled at the absurdity of her feelings, but instead she spread her legs further apart and continued to pet herself. Erin's straight shoulder-length raven black hair fell forward covering her green eyes as she bent her head downward to focus on her pudenda. Her perfect hourglass figure with large breasts and generous hips were covered in a light sweat from the four orgasms she had just given herself. At slightly more than 52 standard years she was startlingly beautiful, her face just now starting to show the barest hint of age, with an occasional faint line around her mouth and eyes when she was tired. 

Spreading her legs a little further apart, Erin let her index finger slide into her slick loose pussy, and probed for her G-spot. "There!" she almost said aloud. Taking her finger out she grabbed the vibrator on the table besides the chair on which she was seated, and plunged it into her wet vagina, the pulsing tip pressing against the verified location of the G-spot. Erin threw her head back, opened her mouth and moaned loudly. "Oh yes! God yes!" Within seconds a fifth orgasm swept her body, causing beads of sweat to appear at her bikini line and along her spine. The nipples on her breasts hardened and stood stiffly erect, jutting out of the soft mounds of perfect white skin. No sooner had the orgasm passed, when a sixth spasm convulsed her body. Erin shook and moaned with the intense pleasure, panting and letting her head fall forward to keep from passing out. 

As her consciousness fully returned, the chime to her quarters sounded and a flat female voice announced: Kelly requests entry. Erin pulled her head up and said "Come!" The door slid open and a tall, stunning, athletic woman with full breasts entered the room. "Give me a minute" said Erin motioning to Kelly to make herself at home, "I want to try for a seventh, but I need to catch my breath."

"Sure no hurry; I gather the new vibrator works well!" Kelly said stretching her tall athletic body and smiling as she sat down on the couch, facing Erin. Kelly, like Erin had spent time in Zax's dungeon as a diapered slave. She owed her release to Erin and as such was fanatically loyal to Varinia's dark-haired leader.

"God! You can say that again. That Stacy earned her pay this time!" 

Erin had a special affection for Kelly and they often had sex together or with a couple of the other women at the Ranch. But Erin was not interested in partnering now. Adjusting the vibrator slightly, she closed her legs on it, and cupping her breasts in her hands, and threw her head back again. Pinching her erect nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, she closed her eyes as the seventh orgasm hit her body. "Oh God! Yes! Yes! On God, Yes!" screamed Erin. Her entire body went rigid and liquid as a full sweat covered the entire surface of her skin. Rivulets of salty water ran down her forehead, across the sides of her cheeks and dripped onto her breasts. Erin swooned in the chair as her body went limp and Kelly hopped off the couch to steady her friend who seemed to teeter dangerously. 

"Are you OK?"

Erin moaned and it was almost a full minute before she recovered sufficiently to reply. "Yes" she finally moaned, panting, her chest heaving as if she had just run a mile uphill. It was several more minutes before Erin became fully aware. Flashing a sweaty smile at her friend she said, "Thanks!" Kelly released Erin's arm and resumed her seat on the couch. Erin flushed and still panting continued, "You have got to try this!"

"I will" smiled Kelly pointing at the vibrator, still in Erin's pussy "If you can give it up for a while."

Erin laughed and pulled the device from between her legs and held it up. Extending her arm she said, "Here! But I must warn you it's addicting, even dangerous. The damn thing could kill you!"

Kelly smiled, but declined saying "I can see that! But I think I'll wait till later."

"Suit yourself" replied Erin putting the vibrator on the table. Standing up, her knees slightly wobbly she said, "Give me a minute. I need a shower."

"You do!" said Kelly sarcastically. Both woman laughed as Erin disappeared into the bathroom. Kelly watched her go and shook her head. She loved and admired Erin who was the leader of their community of ex-slaves. She had known Erin for almost twenty years, since they had both been diapered slaves in Zax's infamous dungeon. It had been Erin who had ultimately freed them, and then had gathered them together again, a group of aimless outcasts. Under her leadership, she had molded them into a well organized group known as Varinia and given them a purpose. Erin had then struck back at their oppressors, leading a darning raid on Zax Island which had uncovered and permanently disrupted a secret breeding program which would have quadrupled the number of diapered slaves there. Kelly would have gladly followed Erin anywhere and even given her life for her without thought or question. However she could never quite understand her brave, intelligent, and beautiful leader. At times, she would act like a young naïve girl, experimenting with her first masturbation or obsessed with a new crush. 

Erin came out of the bathroom, naked carrying a towel, her wet black hair plastered back over her head. Her body was still flushed, but the sweat was gone. Sitting down besides Kelly she wiped her face with the towel and said, "So what's up?"

"We are getting some interesting low level musings if you will on the Net. Nothing definite, just rumors and idle chat with more rumors that sort of thing." 

The Net was the integrated world-wide communications network that linked everyone on the planet in a continuous and ever present data-stream of news, entertainment, gossip, and facts. It was not unusual for threads of discussion to develop around some subject. These were known as hot-topics or hotops for short. A hotops could last for a few minutes or a few years. Some even for decades, but that was rare. Most lasted a few weeks or months before being overtaken by the next trendy topic. They could be serious or frivolous. Some were more interesting and important than others, but none were dull. That was the only rule. In a way they reflected the modern attention span and the priorities of society in general. A sad commentary most of the time, but one that Varinia was not too proud to exploit for its own purposes. And exploit they had and did, to this very day. In fact, some of Varinia's most significant achievements had begun as hotops. So it was not without interest that Erin said, "Really? About what?"

"About the Children."

Erin's eyebrows raised involuntarily in surprise and interest. The "Children" as the women at Varinia liked to call them, were the offspring of Zax's diapered slave breeding program. Born almost 18 standard years ago in the Island's dungeon, they were odd products of legal loopholes and technology. Zax was a private, quasi-secret society, famous for its kinky sex parties and its exclusive membership which read like a who's-who of the rich, famous, and powerful. As an organization it was extremely wealthy; as an entity, immensely powerful; politically it was without peer in its unofficial influence of the World Federation. Zax was all these things and more, for it was a social force of nature: it created trends, set the pace, challenged the bounds of societal norms, and in general swept away any who stood in its way. 

Officially, Zax was like any other well-healed private organization. It was run by its chairwoman Prudence Ardella, heiress to Astra, the solar system's largest mining corporation. Prudence was not only wealthy but she was intelligent and ruthless. Zax had prospered greatly under her leadership and its holdings of slaves as well as its influence had increased significantly. Unofficially, Zax was a tool for conducting business and dispensing favors to the very rich and the very powerful. Its board of directors included Katrina Feltte, the Head of Blue Onyx and Libra Johnson, the Counsel General. Both women were members of the short-list, the top five most powerful women on the planet. These two were at the top of this exclusive list, making them just short of totally controlling almost everything that happened in finances as well as politics. However, not even Zax could manufacture the most expensive and prized of possessions: a diapered slave. 

Diapered slaves were the worst of society's criminals: thieves, malcontents, and repeat offenders. As such the supply was controlled more by random chance than any other single factor. To become a diapered slave, a free woman would have to commit an extremely serious crime. In a society with abundant material wealthy and no poverty there was little reason for doing so, and not surprisingly there were only a handful of such women on the planet. Zax, of course owned the majority of these, but always had need for more. The law governing diapered slaves (as well as slaves in general) had its origins the New Social Contract which marked the beginning of the modern era and the establishment of the Servitude Laws. These laws proscribe the various punishments for crime, with the worst punishment being slavery. However the authors of the Servitude Laws were not only concerned with punishing crime but deterring it as well. Given humanity's violent and turbulent past they obsessed over the best methods for permanently keeping the crime rate as low as possible. The threat of mere slavery was therefore not considered quite sufficient to act as the deterrent in-and-of itself. A second class of slave was therefore added: the diapered slave. A woman sentenced to diapered slavery not only lost all her legal and civil rights (as well has her personal freedom) permanently, but in addition she was required to wear and use diapers for her entire lifetime. To further increase the punishment's deterrent effect, a clause was added to the law, making the naturally born offspring of someone so sentenced a diapered slave also. Thus, daughter would follow mother into society's worst punishment and fate. However this clause was more warning than actual threat and was soon forgotten since few if any women actually had children by becoming pregnant. By that time virtually all conception and gestation occurred ex-uteruo; pregnancy had in essence become society's last taboo and to be pregnant was a fate wore than being diapered. 

Although this clause was forgotten, it remained on the books and therefore part of the law. Zax, ever on the outlook for new opportunities for increasing its sock of diapered slaves discovered this loophole and proceeded to impregnate its diapered slaves. This breeding program was foiled by Varinia, but not before five baby girls had been born. Although this loophole eventually was closed, Zax's babies were grand-mothered in. The only catch, of course, was that they would remain "free" until they reached legal age: 18 standard years. Free meant that they must be treated like other children; the law required that they be raised and educated just as other girls until they attained the age of majority. At that point however, Zax would have the rights to 'convert' them into diapered slaves, where they would remain until the end of their natural lives. 

The grand-mothering of the girls into diapered slavery was, to say the least, controversial, and the subject of numerous and on-going hotops. However the law stood, and in the end everyone took it for granted that justly or not, they would become diapered slaves one day. The World's attention was too short and modern life too full of other distractions to worry too long about the fate of five girls. At Varinia these five innocent girls were known as the Children and Erin and the others there had worked hard at keeping their cause alive for the last 17 years. However society's attention remained stubbornly brief and fickle and the issue and come and (mostly) gone over the years. The best Erin or anyone could say, was that they were martyrs to the larger cause of slavery in general and that the controversy they had generated had resulted in some significant progress towards liberalizing the harshness of the sentencing laws. It was therefore with great interest that these girls were a possible subject of discussion again, especially as their hour was fast approaching. 




Notes From The Underground



"What's going on?" inquired Erin excitedly.

"Well nothing definite as yet" replied Kelly. "But there are some potentially interesting threads starting on the legal discoms." Discoms were discussions and communications special interest forums. These were essentially specialized hotops for a particular profession. In this case the legal profession consisted of judicial consuls, legal consuls and others who made their living with the practice of the law. 

Erin was both surprised and confused. This was not the area where she would have expected such a hotop to start. "What possible talk could there be? Their legal status was settled long ago, unfortunately."

"The discussion is not about their legal status, that's the interesting part" continued Kelly. "It's about the interpretation of some silly and confusing legal formality."

Erin was very interested now. Perhaps there was another loophole in the law that someone had found. This was entirely possible since the law itself was over a hundred years old. Maybe someone had re-examined the law now that the Children were nearing legal age. Zax might have even initiated the inquiry. Wouldn't that be ironic! "Someone found a new loophole?"

"No, I don't think so" said Kelly simultaneously dashing Erin's hopes and adding to her confusion.

"What then?"

"Well it appears that there might be a requirement that the Children undergo an examination by the State when they reach legal age, but before they are converted."

"So maybe there is another loophole after all", repeated Erin her hope rising again.

"I don't think so" replied Kelly. 'The exam appears to be a formality. As you know, the offspring of diapered slaves were supposed to be treated just like other children until they reached legal age. Clearly inflicting such a punishment on an infant or small child or even a young teen was considered too severe or perhaps taboo. In order to insure that the owners did not violate this requirement, the law mandated that the child be examined just prior to conversion to see if she had been mistreated."  

"And if she had?"

"Then she would be taken away from her owners and given to someone else, apparently."

"But her fate would remain the same" added Erin.

"That would depend on the new owner, I guess" said Kelly.

"Interesting" said Erin. "However, this does not seem to help us or them, as you said. It's well known that Zax has treated them well. Everyone knows they live in some sort of school on the Island. Zax made sure this was well publicized." 

"Yes" said Kelly nodding her head. "Very true, however the really interesting thing is that the exam is apparently not just physical, it's mental as well."

"What?" said Erin surprised. "You mean that a psychtech must examine them?"

"Possibly; there is a lot of discussion over this point. As you know the law is old and the language archaic. Psychtechs did not exactly exist at that time, so there is substantial debate over exactly what 'examine' means."

Erin sat silent for several minutes thinking. Language evolution was a well know phenomenon. New words were introduced by each new generation; some of them were formally adopted, while others were essentially ignored. However over time, new words would replace older ones and worse yet influence the grammar and sentence structure. After a few hundred years, most people could still read and understand what was written, however as more time passed the difficulty increased until at some point the language has changed so much that it had essentially became foreign. This phenomenon had grown worse as technological advancement had increased at an ever faster pace. In the twentieth century it was still possible for native speakers to understand texts that were 400 or more years old. By the 24th the ability of a reader to understand older texts had narrowed to less than 200 years. In fact, even the alphabet had changed significantly over that period of time. Erin could well see the how difficult a problem interpreting a 100 year old law would be. In fact, anyone engaged in such an activity would need to be a scholar in old and ancient texts. A large part of the controversy over Zax's breeding program had centered on just this problem. There were only a handful of women alive that could actually read and understand the text of the original law. Zax of course, had almost all these on retainer at the time, further adding to the debate over what was fair and just. However, this new development was interesting and possibly presented a new opening not only in the debate over Zax's control of the Children, but their ultimate fate as well. 

"This is most interesting indeed" said Erin finally. "It bares much closer examination and inquiry. However, this time we need a legal scholar on our side. Eighteen years ago, Zax ran rough-shod over everyone by monopolizing access to all the legal scholars. We can't let this happen again. Also, we need to examine the psychological aspect. Has Del returned from the University?"

"Yes, back yesterday" said Kelly. Delaware Jones, PhD was the only permanent resident at the Ranch who was not an ex-slave. She was a well known psychtech from the University where she still lectured. Delaware, or Del as the women of Varinia called her, had become interested in the colony of ex-slaves about 10 years ago. The group was well known by then, especially for its raid on Zax Island and its ceaseless advocacy for slave's rights. However Del was interested in the slaves themselves. Few had done research on the psychological impact of slavery on the salves themselves and absolutely no one had done any research whatsoever on ex-slaves. And for good reason: there were so very few of them. The servitude laws sentenced women convicted of committing a crime to anywhere from 24 hours to a lifetime of service, depending on the offense. Most offences were minor and the vast majority of those convicted served their sentences as servants. Slaves on the other hand were in an entirely different category. 

A slave was owned and had essentially no rights whatsoever. Unlike a servant whose servitude eventually ended, a salve remained in servitude for life. Because of their low numbers, lifetime sentences, and non-person legal status, they were considered uninteresting and irrelevant with regards to psychological research. After all, no matter what the findings, they would be essentially irrelevant to everyone since there was no reprieve or path back into society for someone so condemned. However, a freed slave was another matter. Here was a woman that was condemned to the worst possible punishment and left without hope, who had by some unimaginable turn of fortune and luck been redeemed. Because of the small number of slaves and the enormous difficulties involved in gaining freedom, the number of freed slaves amounted to perhaps less than 50 women on the entire planet. In fact, no one knew the actual numbers, or for that matter cared; the number was that small. 

Delaware had become interested in this rare group just as researchers of old had studied individuals with freak brain injuries in order to learn more about the functioning of the mind. After reading some Varinia's hotops and other literature, she had contacted Erin requesting a visit to the colony of ex-slaves. Erin at first had been suspicious and very reluctant to grant the request. Fortunately for Delaware, Erin's lover and close, Cathy Long, was also a professor at the University, and she was able to broker a deal for a visit. Even then, Erin had been reserved and reticent, although she was polite, as were the other women of Varinia. Delaware had found the small group of women both fascinating as well as captivating. Each women had a very unique story and a strangely up-beat, but oddly sad demeanor. Intrigued, she wanted to study the women long term and explore their unique situation. However, Erin would not hear of it. She was still suspicious and worried about invasion of their privacy as well as the malicious intent of Varinia's powerful enemies, most notably Zax.

It was shear luck that saved the day for Delaware. On the last day of her visit, one of the women in the group attempted suicide. Fortunately, she was discovered in time and before serious physical injury had been sustained. This however had not been the first suicide among Varinia's members. Years earlier a young woman named Jan, a close friend of Erin's who had suffered with her though the dungeons of Zax had committed suicide. This new attempt had brought back a flood of unpleasant memories for Erin who felt quite guilty about the entire episode, both present and past. Delaware had stayed to help the woman who had attempted to take her life and eventually Erin as well. A few days grew into a few weeks and as Delaware talked to the other women at Varinia she grew to like and respect them, and they her. She soon gained their confidence and they began to confide in her, and she was able to help them with their problems. When it came time for her to leave, everyone approached Erin asking her to let Delaware stay.

The two women had a frank talk one afternoon when Delaware went to say goodbye to Erin. "I want to thank you for your generosity and hospitality in letting me stay so long. We both know that my immediate reason for staying passed weeks ago. You have been most kind and I shall remember you always, Erin."

"It is I who should be thanking you" said Erin and she meant it. "You are probably aware that everyone here has requested that I let you stay." Delaware was about to say how flattered she was, but that she respected Erin's decision as their leader. But before she could say anything, Erin raised her hand and continued "I have been doing a lot of thinking the last few weeks. Jan was a very close and dear friend. You can only love someone like that when you have the kind of horrible shared experience we had together. I miss her intensely to this day. I also realize that we all have on-going problems, including myself. Our experience as slaves haunts us to this day and will forever I guess. You have helped us immensely, I see that now. There are big improvements in the women here, improvements that you are responsible for. I am also afraid now. There may be more attempts like the one we just saw. Our group is small and we can't afford to loose anyone. I guess what I am try to say is, will you please stay? We are in your debt and I can offer you little more than our grateful thanks."

Delaware was moved by Erin's plea and she said, "Of course Erin. It would be my privilege." The two women stood and embraced and there were tears in Erin's eyes. However things were not quite that simple. Delaware actually did need to leave. She had been away from the University too long already. She had not expected to stay even a fraction of the time she actually had, and her duties as a professor were severely backlogged. It was with sad heart that she departed the Ranch and there was not a dry eye anywhere, including her own. It was almost six months before she returned and was able to settle in.

Delaware spent the next 10 years shuttling back between the University and the Ranch, spending slightly more than half her time at the Ranch gathering data for her research, observing, and counseling the women there. Her research turned out to be groundbreaking and her book, Aftermath, about the impact of slavery on the women of Varinia and society in general was a run away best seller. She had insisted on splitting the proceeds with Varinia, who used their share of the funds to further the cause of reforming the servitude laws. Although Delaware was well liked and accepted by everyone, she still felt like an outsider. Part of this was due to her professional responsibility to remain objective and neutral. The rest was unchangeable fact: no matter how much time she spent in the colony of ex-slaves, she as a non-slave could never fully share in the common bond among the women there. Erin sensed her feelings of apartness at times, and would invite her to participate in the on-going group-sexual activities that were continually changing and evolving amongst Varinia's members. However, Del always declined, claiming the need to remain professionally objective. This is not to say, that Del hid in her quarters whenever there was a party or orgy. The sexual activities of the women were a large and important part of her research, and as such, she needed to gather as much information as she could about them. 

These information-gathering sessions though professionally necessary and interesting were not something Del looked forward too. She was no prude and had, had several sexual relationships herself in the world outside of Varinia. In fact she rightly considered herself a typical modern woman. Sexual liaisons usually began in a woman's teens and lasted most of her life. It was rare for a woman to have only one or two partners during her lifetime, and except during the child-rearing years, relationships usually lasted no more than a decade. This is not to say that promiscuity was commonplace. Although one-night stands were not uncommon, the behavior of most women conformed to that expected from the Venkatesan Modification. As such, women typically went from one private and exclusive relationship to another and most of these lasted for several years or more. It was in this way that the ex-slaves were different. Their sexual relationships were constantly changing and far short of private, in direct violation of the Venkatesan Modification. Group sex, relatively uncommon in the outside world, was the norm here. More over the composition of these groups was continually changing and evolving. Lasting, longer-term relationships were virtually non-existent, though there were some trends in that direction. Liaisons outside the colony were unknown and shunned. Erin was one of the exceptions in this area. She had an on-going relationship with Cathy Long and ex-college pal (and now lover) who was a professor at the University. But this was a troubled pairing, plagued by long separations and an underlying moodiness on the part of both women. 

When questioned, Erin would shrug her shoulders and say, "I don't know", when pressed she would blame matters on the fact that Cathy had not been a slave and could never really understand. Del saw deeper issues and sought answers in part by watching the women engage in their sexual soirées. These were usually quite raucous and kinky. Del would usually sit in the same room observing and taking notes while they were engaged in these 'sessions'. There was typically some object or focus upon which their activity centered. The vibrator was a good example. The group's technical wiz, a young woman named Stacy, had taken a vibrator and reprogrammed it to adaptively adjust itself based on the user's response. Although not completely satisfied, she announced one day that it was "ready for testing." Kelly, Erin's lieutenant and the 'naughty-girl' of the group immediately arranged a get together for that evening.

A group of six women met in Kelly's quarters about 10PM. Kelly had cleared the center of the living room, and as the women arrived they sat on the carpeted floor in a circle. Del was the first to arrive and she took a seat in a comfortable chair along one wall about 5 or 6 feet away from where the women would sit. Erin arrived next, followed by Pam, Stacy, and two others. Erin joked with Del as they waited for everyone to arrive and take their place. "You're not going to just sit there with your legs crossed all evening are you? I hear that Stacy's gadget is really something. Surely you can let loose just this once." 

The remark about "keeping her legs crossed" brought giggles from the small group and Del blushed. But she retorted, "I might not be the only one!" This brought more laughter and a few cat-calls. However, Kelly was anxious to get started, so standing up she discarded her robe revealing her tall athletic body, full breasts, and shaven pussy. Del noted the latter in her notes. Diapered slaves had their pubic hair depilated and Kelly had chosen to remain this way; she also wore and used diapers occasionally. Erin on the other hand had her public hair restored and seemed to take pride in it. Del had questioned both women on their 'choices' but could not reach a firm conclusion as to the reason for this behavior. Worse some of the other women were constantly switching back and forth between having and not having pubic hair. Raising her hands for silence, Kelly announced "As you all know, Stacy as tinkered together yet another toy for our pleasure." There was more laughter and some hoots and Kelly was forced to pause, smiling at the levity in the room. "Being among the privileged few, I have tried it myself, purely to see if it would merit your attention and…" She was interrupted by some boos and snide remarks at this point. "…and I can assure you, everyone is in for a good time tonight!" More clapping erupted from the women and whistling also. "Now without further ado, let's get started!" With that, Kelly took her place in the group and Stacy stood up holding the vibrator. She was already naked and she walked to the center of the circle of women and held up the vibrator, turning it on and razing it over her head. 

"I give you the goddess of pure pleasure", she announced turning slowly in place so all could see her. The women went wild and getting on their knees, bowed as if worshiping some pagan idol. At this point all the women had removed any remaining clothing and the group started chanting "Fuck me! Fuck me!" as Stacy continued to turn and hold up the idol of the affection. Kelly jumped up and blindfolded Stacy, spinning her around to disorient her. Resuming her place, she raised a fist and shouted, "Fuck me now! Fuck me now!"

Erin, whose back was to Del, was bent forward with her head touching the floor and arms extended, her pussy fully exposed to the psychtech. Del gulped and crossed her legs, trying to focus on her notes. After a minute or so, the chanting reached fever pitch and Stacy stopped turning and removing the blind fold, lowered the vibrator and pointing it at Pam who she was facing screamed, "Fuck you!" 

The women went wild and jumping up mobbed Pam. Pam, like Kelly, was an ex-diapered slave who had spent time in Zax's dungeon and owed her release to Erin. A handsome woman in her early biological forties she was the oldest member of the current group and she groaned as the other women piled on top of her. Erin and Kelly took her arms while the other two grabbed her legs and spread them. Stacy knelt down between Pam's spread legs and literally stabbed the vibrator into her vagina. Del winched at the sudden and brutal movement, but Pam moaned in pleasure. Her loose pussy lips glistened with her juices and it was clear that the device had slid frictionlessly into her. The five women took up Stacy's chant, "Fuck You! Fuck You! Fuck you!" For her part, Pam rolled her head back and moaned. Within about 30 seconds she came moaning, "Oh god! Yes, oh Yes, Yes!" This went on for a good ten minutes or so during which Pam must have had at least four or five orgasms. The last one left her withering and panting and pleading, "God no more! I can't take it, I'm spent!" 

Stacy removed the vibrator and the women released Pam who lay on the floor, a hand between her large breasts and over her heart, panting. Kelly put the blindfold back on Stacy and the women resumed their positions and their chanting. After a few minutes of slowly turning in place, Stacy stopped again and removed the blindfold. This time she pointed the vibrator at Erin. "Take me from behind", Erin announced. The women went wild, and Erin got up on her hands and knees. Stacy stood behind her and plunged the vibrator into Erin's vagina. "Fuck me!" yelled Erin. "Move it in and out! Fuck me like a whore!" 




Notes From The Underground



Kelly jumped on Erin's back riding her like a horse, while Stacy moved the vibrator in and out of Erin's vagina. The other women shouted, "Fuck her! Fuck her!" Erin moaned in pleasure, repeatedly crying out. Del lost count for her orgasms at around seven, but when she was finished, Erin was bathed in sweat and her short black hair was dripping. At this point, Kelly grabbed the vibrator and said, "Fuck me up the ass! Up the ass! I tell you, fuck me up the ass!"

"Fuck her! Fuck her! Up the ass! Up her ass!" the women shouted. Stacy took the device and granted Kelly's wish. A Kelly bent forward and Stacy rotated the vibrator into her ass. Kelly reached between her legs and immediately began to masturbate for the entire group. "Hey no cheating" someone shouted to approving whistles. But Kelly was beyond any rational thought. She rubbed herself shamelessly moaning and crying out "God, God!" With each orgasm she let out a shrill cry of pleasure. At this point, Del was taken completely aback and it was all she could do to try and remain focused. For some reason, these women always needed to sexually abuse and shame themselves, and Kelly was the leader in this area. Blushing, Del looked away and tried to concentrate and be objective, but the scene was too overwhelming. 

When Kelly was done, Stacy and the other two women subjected themselves to the same sort of treatment. The group probably would have engaged in further sexual activity, but each had, had multiple orgasms already. They lay on the floor in each others arms, a tangle of limbs and sweaty flesh, loose pussies, and wet plastered hair. Within minutes they were all in an exhausted sleep. Del, stood up, closed the lights and left the room, returning to her quarters to shower and make sense of what she had witnessed. 

"Good" said Erin. "I want to have a meeting this afternoon; you, me, Pam, June, Stacy, and Del. No point in bothering the others. I'm going to contact Cathy and see if she knows a good legal scholar. Ask Del, also; she might have a friend or know someone."

"Yes" said Kelly standing up "Anything else?"

"No…I don't think so. Just tell Stacy to keep a lid on this. No point in letting anyone know we are interested." Kelly nodded and left Erin's quarters. This might just be the break they had been waiting for all along. Erin was excited, but she was also wary. This could also be some device of Zax to sucker them into another trap. Katrina Feltte was a very cunning and devious woman, and Prudence was no slouch either. They would need to be careful; very careful!

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

Later that afternoon the six women sat gathered around the conference table in the main lodge at the Ranch. Also present was a virtual persona of Cathy. "I am sure you have all heard about the new discom Stacy turned up" began Erin. The women around the table nodded their heads in acknowledgement. "This may be the opportunity we have been waiting for all these years. As you are aware the Children will all reach legal age sometime this year and I fully expect Zax to convert them to diapered slaves as quickly as possible. The timing for re-opening this controversy might be perfect."

"Do you think there is a possibility of freeing them?" asked June. June was the Colony's founder and oldest member. A former slave, she had been sold to a wealthy but aging member of Zax who had died without heirs leaving her a free woman. 

"Maybe" said Erin "but Kelly is not very optimistic on this point."

"The law is very old and the language is archaic" said Kelly. "The best I can tell from the on-going discussion is that in the most optimistic scenario they might be assigned to new owners, but only if Zax was shown to have mistreated them."

"And that's not very likely" said Pam "given that Zax has let the World know how well they have cared for them." 

"Yes" agreed Kelly "however there is a possibility that the care might not only be physical, but psychological as well. This is why Del is here." 

Del was conflicted about here presence in this meeting. She had of course sat in as an observer in these types of meetings before, but never as a participant. She had been reluctant to participate in this one, citing her on-going obligation be remain objective. However Erin had reluctantly persuaded her to, if nothing else listen and offer an opinion. "There are larger issues here Del" she had said "the lives of the Children are at stake." Del had reluctantly agreed. It was becoming harder for her to remain neutral after all these years living among these women and she was beginning to realize that her time as a researcher might be coming to an end. Del cleared her throat and said, "A lot will depend on the environment they were raised in and how they were treated emotionally. I don't want to be pessimistic but even under the best circumstances where there are witnesses and other types of hard-evidence, demonstrating psychological abuse can be difficult. Also I don't want to be callous but even if you were to demonstrate that these girls were psychologically abused in some way, as a practical matter would it make any difference in their ultimate fate?"

The women around the table nodded their heads acknowledging her points. Del continued, "In addition, from what I understand to far, the psychological aspect of this matter is the subject of legal debate. In the end, this may be more of a legal matter then a medical one."

"Del raises a good point" chimed in Kelly. "I have done some research and even in contemporary cases the psychological aspect is often defined by the law."

"How so?" asked Erin.

"Well" said Del "the law usually acts as a gate-keeper in medical matters, both physical and psychological. This has always been the case even in pre-modern times. For example, you might be entitled to compensation if you hurt yourself while working say. But the law will set a threshold with regards to what constitutes an injury. A broken leg might qualify, but not a stubbed toe for instance. In addition, if you were shown to have contributed to the injury, even if serious, you might loose your rights to compensation. It's even less straight forward when dealing with mental problems."

"Sounds like we need some legal counsel" said June.

"Yes" said Erin "Not only legal consul, but a counselor that is a legal scholar as well. We all remember what happened in the original case when Zax tied up all the top scholars in archaic law." The women nodded their heads in agreement. Erin continued "I have asked both Del and Cathy here to see if there was anyone at the University that might be interested."

"There are of course top people at the University in this field, however I do not know any of them personally. I would be willing to make inquires if you wish, but I can't guarantee anything" said Del.

Erin nodded and turned to the virtual persona. Virtual personas were literally sub-personalities created from the mind of a living person and existing solely in the environment of the Net. A reporting mechanism, they allowed a person to almost literally be in two places at once. Although personas could ask and answer questions, they could not make decisions and were strictly confined to discoursing only on task for which they had been created. Dealing with them was almost like dealing with a person, but could be frustrating if their limitations were not kept in mind. In the case of Cathy's persona, it watched the conference quietly and carefully absorbing the details and waiting to provide any assistance that might be requested from it. 

"Do you have a contact in this area, Cathy?" said Erin addressing the persona.

"Yes, in fact you know her well" replied the virtual Cathy. 

Erin raised her eyebrows in surprise. Personas could read emotions and 'Cathy' smiled and continued. "I am sure you remember Cassandra Wu."

"Yes" replied Erin. Cassandra had been a lead consul at World Insurance, the company Erin had worked for just before being framed and taken into servitude. It was Cassandra who had fought and eventually secured her freedom (as well as Pam's and Kelly's) with the help of Cathy. 

"Well she retired about 15 years ago, as you might be aware" said the virtual Cathy.

"Yes I was, though it's been many years since we have spoken". Although Cassandra liked Erin, she had been displeased by her raid on Zax Island 18 years ago and had warned her sternly not to expect any further legal help if she attempted a similar stunt again. Erin suspected that Cassandra was angry more out of concern than principle and that she would most likely help her again if she had a need.

"When she retired, Cassandra joined the University as a legal scholar" said the persona. "Since that time, she has become one of the top experts in the field you are interested in."

This was news, and the women around the table started talking in surprise. Erin interrupted them saying "I wasn't aware that she was a scholar. Her specialty was litigation, not jurisprudence. When did she become a scholar?"

"It was apparently a hobby of hers, peaked no doubt by your adventures 18 years ago. When she started her second career, Cassandra was already well on her way to becoming an expert. In addition, she had minored in pre-modern languages in college" continued the persona. 

"Well this is good news!" commented Stacy. "Do you think she would come out here for a visit?"

"I am authorized to tell you it's been arranged. She will accompany me on the scheduled trip to the Ranch at the end of the week" said the virtual Cathy. 

"This is good news" said Erin. Turning to Stacy she said, "Well that's settled for now, is there anymore news?"

"Yes I'm afraid there is, and it's not good" replied Stacy.

Erin frowned as well as the other women at the table. "Well, out with it. What happened now?" 

"I traced the source of the discom and found that it started when Zax had had the oldest of the Children examined. Apparently she turned 18 about a week ago. Zax flew her to the mainland and in a one day trip brought her to see a medtech and psychtech and then took her immediately back to the Island". Chatter among the women in the room spontaneously erupted about this new development. 

"Apparently Zax is wasting no time or taking any chances either" observed Erin dryly when the chatter died down a little. 

"It gets worse" stated Stacy. "Apparently the required hearing was conducted the next day, and the girl was converted."

A gasp of surprise filled the room.

"Damn! That was quick!" said Kelly.

"Too damn quick" added Erin. "I thought about checking on the ages of the Children just last night. It's on my action item list, but apparently I'm too late."

"I'm ahead of you there" said Stacy. "The oldest, Kathryn Dianne Weiss, was born just a little over 18 years ago. She is the child of the diapered salve Dianna Weiss."

Erin remembered Dianna, a beautiful golden-haired young woman who had run afoul of the law and into the clutches of Zax. She had been impregnated shortly after becoming a slave and bore the first of the Children nine months later. Erin had met her briefly during her raid on the dungeon, but had been unable to help her, or her daughter. The news about Kathryn hit her like a body-blow and she slumped visibly in her seat. 

Stacy continued "the next two were born about 6 months later. Zax wanted to see and fix any problems with the breeding process, so they chose Dianna to be the guinea-pig since she was the youngest and as such had the highest chance for success. After about six months passed without incident the next two of their five diapered slaves where impregnated, followed a month later by the fourth, and finally the fifth five months after that. At the present, we have a little over 5 months before the next two become eligible for conversion and slightly less than seven months before the fourth is of age, and little under a year for the last one."

"Wait a minute", said Erin "how come the last one was born so late. I recall that they were all born about the same time."

"The slaves were impregnated roughly from youngest to oldest. The last slave Mari was the oldest. Apparently Zax waited until they were sure all was going well with the other four before impregnating her, since she had the highest likelihood of having a problem."

"Still" said Erin, "something seems wrong."

"No" said Stacy. "I believe there was some sort of problem. A miscarriage, I believe. Mari was probably re-impregnated after the initial failure. This would account for the delay. I can re-check if you wish, but I am pretty certain this is what happened. In any event we only have about 5 months at most to act."

There was silence in the room as the women mulled over this information and its implications. Erin broke the silence speaking in a barely audible and hushed voice, "No it's OK. Any word on what has happened to Kathryn?"

"No" said Stacy. 

"When you say 'converted' what exactly does that mean?" asked June.

"It means she is legally considered a diapered slave" replied Kelly. "At least that's how I understand it. Apparently Zax is free to diaper her whenever they wish."

"I wonder what they are waiting for" said Pam.

"Maybe they aren't" said Kelly. "After all, they don't need to announce it."

"Perhaps" said Erin.

"They might be waiting to keep anyone that might be interested off-balance" said Del.

"How's that?" said Erin.

"Well think about it. If they diaper her, then she is essentially lost. I'm not a legal expert, but I would be willing to bet that the grant of conversion is grand-mothered in, regardless of what might happen to the others. By waiting, Zax gains the upper hand psychologically. There is a sword hanging over this girl's head. If someone causes trouble, they can diaper her immediately, if for no other reason than to send a message or take revenge. As long as there's no trouble, she's probably safe, for the time being anyways."

"Very chilling reasoning" said Pam. 

"But probably quite sound; It's kind of reasoning Katrina or Prudence would use" commented Erin. 

"It puts us on the defensive too" add June.

"All too true" said Stacy. "So what do we do?"

"Nothing" said Erin. "We can't afford to make any mistakes the margin for error is clearly very narrow here. In fact, we need to keep a low profile on the Net, at least till we know more. I suggest we wait until Cathy and Cassandra arrive. Till then we lay low."

The women all agreed and their meeting broke-up. Afterwards Erin invited Kelly to her quarters for a private chat. "There is something fishy about this entire affair" she began. "I don't trust Zax it's not their style to leave anything to chance."

Kelly nodded her head, but said "Maybe they don't have a choice."

Erin gave her a telling glace and said "If it was anyone else, yes; but not Zax. They are just too powerful. I don't trust them."

"Even Zax can't break the law, at least not outright. Furthermore they seem to be bending over backwards with the Children."

"I know" said Erin "but we need better intelligence. I don't want to get burned this time. I have an idea, but it could backfire."

Kelly looked at Erin questioningly and said, "Let me guess, it involves me."

Erin smiled and said "I am afraid you are correct! Are you still friends with India Carrera?"

"Yea sure; I just saw her about a month ago. She likes hanging with me because I'm an ex-slave and because of the raid. I'm her naughty-girl, it adds to her racy reputation."

Erin frowned, but hid her disapproval from Kelly. India was a professional trend setter, a party girl, and a top member of the in-crowd. She was on everyone's A-list and a must have at any party or get-together of consequence. Where she went, publicity followed. Her antics were world renowned and infamous. India set fashion trends, made or broke vacation spots, and was widely sought-out by business to help promote their products. Of course she as a regular at Zax's parties and was not surprisingly rumored to have quite a kinky sex-life.

She had met Kelly at a party hosted by the media after their raid on Zax Island. Erin and some of the other women had been there also, but India and Kelly had hit if off almost immediately and Kelly had spent the night with her. Of course spending the night with Kelly greatly added to India's sexual notoriety. To Kelly's credit, she did not let the celebrity go to her head; in fact she insisted on her privacy. This amazed India who lived for the lime-light and it paradoxically was responsible for their long-lasting relationship. India remained continually intrigued by this (to her) mysterious attitude on Kelly's part as well as by Kelly's provocative behavior and sexual antics. For her part, Kelly enjoyed the idea of being an intimate of someone famous without having to endure the rigors of celebrity. In a way both women were much alike, soul-mates for want of a better term; they each had a private wild side that was hard to share with other less liberated women and a certain flamboyance that endeared them to others. A few times a year they would meet, usually when India was on vacation (which was an oxymoron of sorts), for a week or so, in some off-beat place. Kelly would usually wind up with her picture in the media, on the arm of India in some (until then) obscure bar or night club. After the party, India would get to enjoy some cutting-edge kinky sex that Kelly had taken from the ever evolving scene at Varinia to share with her. But most of all, both these women would talk, and after several years they became intimate confidants. In fact it would be fair to say, that they were more intimate emotionally than sexually.

"Do you think she might be able to help us?" asked Kelly somewhat surprised.

"I don't know. She does have almost unfettered access to Zax Castle and she is a familiar of Prudence. Perhaps she might be sympatric enough to pass on what she hears. I know it's a stretch, but it's all we have. My second best idea is rather severe and unpleasant." 

Kelly considered this. It would be very risky for India to betray or even be suspected of betraying Zax. They were responsible after all for a substantial part of her on-going notoriety. On the other hand, India did go in for some intrigue now and again, and the idea was just as likely to appeal to her as not. "I don't know, but I can try" said Kelly skeptically. "What's your second best idea?"

"One of us volunteers to break the law and become a slave again. Zax would surely purchase the volunteer and we would have a mole inside the dungeon again."

"I like your first idea a whole lot better!" said Kelly. "I'll arrange a visit and ask her."

Erin smiled and nodded, but said "Well I'm not sure that such a direct approach is best. Perhaps a bit of subtlety is called for here. After all, we don't want her running back to Prudence and telling her what we are thinking."

"You may be right, but being indirect with India is a sure way to make her suspicious and angry. Plus, even if she tells Zax, we probably don't have a lot to loose."

"Perhaps" said Erin mulling this over. "I'll leave it to you. Just be careful."

"OK" said Kelly. "I'll try."

"By the way, if you fail we may need to go with my second idea."

A chill ran down Kelly's spine and she said, "Then I guess I won't fail!"

"Good" said Erin, "I was hoping you'd say that!"

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

The week passed without further news; Stacy monitored the discom about the conversion of the Children, but it had not taken off outside the small circle of legal scholars. No one realistically thought the issue would go anyplace and it remained of academic interest only. Early the following week, a transport with Cassandra and Cathy on board silently landed at the Ranch. After the two women were off-board, it took-off as silently as it came, departing to the West. Erin, Kelly, Del, Pam, and June greeted the newcomers. Cassandra embraced Erin, Kelly, Pam, and June and shook hands with Del. Erin and Cathy hugged each other and kissed affectionately. It had been several months since Cathy's last trip to the Ranch, and her last parting had been somewhat acrimonious. 




Notes From The Underground



Every time Cathy left, she begged Erin to come with her. But Erin always declined and a tiff usually followed. Although they always kissed and hugged when Cathy departed, this was a formality and did little to alleviate the tension between them. Cathy must have been an optimist however, because when ever she returned it was with a renewed vigor and a lighthearted attitude. In short she was genuinely enthusiastic about seeing and being with Erin again. For her part Erin was less sanguine, but nonetheless happy to have Cathy with her again, if only for awhile. Erin gave instructions to Kelly to show Cassandra to her quarters and see to her needs. "We'll talk tomorrow" said Erin taking her bag in one hand and putting her arm around Cathy's small waist as they walked together to Erin's quarters. 

As soon as they were inside, Erin kissed Cathy passionately on her mouth and within seconds the two women were clawing at each other clothes. This was a far easier task for Cathy than for Erin. Cathy as usual was dressed in business attire: jacket, blouse, skirt, bra, panties, stockings, and shoes. Erin on the other hand wore her usual thong and short tee-shirt. The later Cathy literally ripped off her lover's back. The thong fell away with the tug of a string. Erin smiled at this thinking of Del who she knew silently disapproved of the way she dressed. On one occasion, Del had left her notes on the conference room table and Erin, unable to resist temptation, had peeked at them. Scanning the notes, her eye caught her name, and she had stopped to read:

"Erin is the clear leader of the group and the women respect and look to her for guidance and purpose. However, she seems almost casual about her role in the community. Her daily attire provides a tangible example of this attitude. While most of the other women are usually dressed more or less conventionally, Erin attire is perhaps best described as provocative and not in alignment with her role as the group leader. A typical outfit consists of a thong or small apron and a tee shirt barely adequate to cover her breasts; she is consistently just a few square inches of material away from total nudity. In the world outside of their colony such dress would be considered highly inappropriate for someone in a position of responsibility and would even be considered questionable in all but the more private of settings. This behavior clearly violates the Venkatesan Modification which in itself is both troubling and interesting. Worse, instead of being 'liberating' it appears symptomatic of a deeper unhappiness…"

"Well I see you beat me again" commented Erin as she stood naked in front of her lover. 

"It wasn't hard" said Cathy smiling.

"That's because you cheat!" retorted Erin playfully.

"Well I can hardly teach the way you're dressed!"

"Well you might get your students to pay more attention that way" said Erin unbuttoning Cathy's blouse and unfastening her bra.

"I only need that kind of attention from you" replied Cathy with a happy and longing look in her eyes. 

Erin finished removing the last of Cathy's clothing and looked lovingly at her long-time friend. She was a thin blond woman with short hair, medium breasts, and narrow hips. They had been room mates in college but had separated upon graduation. It was Cathy's expertise that had rescued Erin from the dungeons of Zax and diapered slavery. The two had become lovers shortly after her release. Erin hugged Cathy tightly and said, "I missed you terribly"

"Me too!" replied Cathy kissing Erin aggressively on her mouth again. The two women hungrily explored each other's bodies as if for the first time, falling onto the bed without bothering with the covers. Erin fell on her back, with Cathy on top. Although Cathy was the smaller of the two, she was wiry and strong. Kneeling over Erin, she cupped her large breasts in her petite hands, moving them is slow circles, rolling and pinching the nipples between her thumb and forefingers. Erin moaned in pleasure looking passionately into Cathy's eyes. Cathy moved her hips back and forth like she was riding a horse, her pussy brushing against Erin's belly button. Suddenly and without warning she changed her tack, and turning around, lay on top of Erin. Pushing Erin's legs apart with her arms, she plunged her face into Erin's pussy, aggressively eating the most intimate part of her body. Simultaneously she pushed her own pussy into Erin's face and closed her thighs around Erin's head. 

Erin was surprised by Cathy's sexual aggressiveness; she had never acted this way before and was usually quite passive when it came to lovemaking and sex. However Erin decided to go with it. Moaning in pleasure, she attacked Cathy's pussy just as vigorously. With in seconds both woman were moaning loudly and climaxing. Cathy had taken Erin's entire pussy in her mouth, plunging her tongue into her vagina and literally chewing on her clitoris. Erin exploded with one orgasm after another and struggled to keep pace in reciprocating. Eventually both women were sweaty and spent, and Cathy rolled off Erin breathing hard. Turning around, Erin took the smaller woman in her arms and kissed her passionately. "That was wonderful!"

Cathy looked at her seriously "I love you Erin."

Erin kissed her again. "I love you too" she said.

Both women fell asleep, but later they awoke and coupled again. "We better shower and get ready for dinner" said Erin.

"Must we?" said Cathy.

"Well…" said Erin looking at her "we could eat in…" and with that Erin tore at Cathy's pussy again. For her part Cathy was just as aggressive and seeking out Erin's sex, and went to work on her again. This time however, she lubricated her index finger in Erin's pussy and plunged it into her ass, moving it in and out it time to her tongue in Erin's vagina. Erin moan loudly in pleasure and cried out, "oh yes! Yes! God I love you Cathy!"

When they were done, Erin lay exhausted in Cathy's arms, stroking her short blonde hair lovingly. "God I missed you so much!" she said.

"Me too" said Cathy. "I hate it when we are apart."

"I know" said Erin. "I know." The women talked till very late that evening before falling asleep. Cathy slept soundly next to Erin, who watched her. Del is right she thought. I have to work on my feelings. I should be with Cathy, living a more normal life. She resolved to talk to Del when this latest crisis was resolved and to finally put the past behind her. Cathy was so precious and more importantly she was right: they belonged together as a married couple, with their own children. These thoughts brought melancholy tears to Erin's eyes, which flowed down the sides for her face onto her pillow. Closing her eyes she fell to sleep.

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

The next morning the chime to Erin's quarters sounded and announced: "Kelly requests entry." Erin looked groggily at the time: 11AM. God! She thought, they were supposed to meet at one. Cathy was still asleep besides her, but stirred and moaned half consciously, "don't go!" as Erin sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The door to the bedroom was open, and rubbing her eyes she said, "Come."

Kelly stepped into the living room, and seeing Erin though the open door rubbing her eyes said "Heavy night, huh?"

Erin stopped rubbing her eyes and nodded her head. "Yeah; can you make us some tea while I shower?" 

Sure said Kelly stepping into the kitchen. She noticed that Cathy was also awake, and that she had quickly covered herself with the sheets when she saw Kelly. Erin had closed the door to the bedroom, knowing that Cathy disliked being seen nude by anyone else. In fact an episode just like this had precipitated a tiff between the two lovers in the past. Kelly had walked into Erin's bedroom one morning as they both lie naked together on the bed. Cathy had been clearly annoyed and had asked Kelly if she could wait in the other room while they showered and dressed. Kelly was good natured and had smiled amused and left with a shrug of her shoulders. At the Ranch such 'invasions' of privacy were normal and the women thought nothing of walking in on each other, even during sex. In fact, Kelly had had some incredible sex in this impromptu manner. But for Cathy, such behavior was appalling, and rightly so Kelly reminded herself. All the women at the Ranch had witnessed each other performing the most degrading and humiliating acts possible. In the outside world, such behavior was taboo and women were much more reserved and paid much greater attention to one another's privacy. Erin however had been a bit miffed by Cathy's 'rude' behavior towards Kelly. Perhaps, if she had been more fully awake she would have realized as Kelly had that Cathy was within her rights to feel that her privacy had been invaded. But for whatever reason, a tiff ensued and Cathy had packed her bags and left. Several days later, Erin reconsidered and contacted Cathy to apologize. Now, Cathy ignored these social faux pas while visiting and the women at the Ranch paid greater attention her privacy. 

When Erin came out of the bedroom she was naked, her hair still wet, and a towel draped across her shoulders. She was careful to close the bedroom door behind her and Kelly could hear Cathy taking a shower in the bathroom beyond. Taking a cup of hot tea, Erin sat down and sighed. 

Kelly smiled and said, "You missed dinner last night, but don't worry everyone understood and you didn't miss anything important."

"Thanks" said Erin and then added sheepishly "I guess we missed breakfast too".

Kelly nodded but had a smile on her face "Ah honeymooners!"

Erin smiled. This was a private joke among the women. When Cathy first arrived, the two women were known to spend days together in Erin's quarters. Erin's sexual behavior became exclusive, as Cathy refused to participate in any group activities. Coupled with the fact that Cathy often left on a sour note, Erin was often teased that since they acted like a married couple, she should abandon any further pretenses and just get married. Thus whenever Cathy came back, their initial reunions became known as the 'honeymoon' period of the visit. "Let's make the meeting a working lunch then" said Erin. 

Kelly nodded and made a mental note to have food prepared. A moment later, Cathy stepped into the room. She was (by her standards) casually dressed in a loose white blouse and a pair of knee length shorts. Cathy suppressed a frown when she observed Erin sitting naked and sipping tea. Intellectually she realized that Erin, Kelly, and the others had no 'secrets' from each other so to speak. But the women's lack of modesty, especially Erin's, was hard to adjust to on an emotional level. As the visit wore on, Cathy knew she would become desensitized, but she always found Erin's behavior a little galling. However she ignored the situation and greeted Erin with a kiss on the cheek and Kelly with a friendly "hello". "Have a cup of tea for me?" she asked.

"Sure" said Kelly handing her a steaming cup. 

"So what's on the agenda today?" asked Cathy sitting down next to Erin.

"Well" said Kelly "Cassandra has been reviewing the law all week and she is going to debrief us over lunch. After that, I guess it depends on what she says…"

Cathy nodded her head. She had spoken with Cassandra during their trip to the Ranch. However she had learned little. Cassandra was concerned about Erin and asked Cathy a lot of questions about Erin and herself as well. Surprisingly, Cathy had found that she did most of the talking. 

"What's going on with her" the legal scholar had inquired.

"Nothing, she's pretty much the same" Cathy had replied.

"I was afraid of that!" retorted Cassandra. "I see she has grown more stubborn and perhaps single minded these past years. I had hoped you would have helped her get some common sense. Get married, have a daughter. Return to work, and all that. What's going on with you two anyways?"

Cathy had told her, confiding in the older woman. "I'm trying but it's hard. I love her deeply and I think she feels the same about me, but I can't get her away from that damn Ranch or hers or the orgies. Not that I don't agree with her cause. Its noble and all that, but I think she has taken it as far as she reasonably can. It's time to move on and put the past to rest once and for all. She's not going to change the social structure; the powers-that-be won't allow it. I want to have children and live a normal life. But it's hard to persuade her; as you say she's stubborn. We usually end up having fight, and then I leave."

Cathy had a few tears in her eyes and Cassandra patted her on the knee. "Yes she is a determined woman. But I am afraid she is going to get herself into trouble again. And this time, there might not be any reprieve."

Cathy dried her eyes and said "Yes I'm worried too. Is there really any chance in saving these girls?"

"It's not a matter of there being a chance. There are a lot possibilities and any one could prove fruitful. However, in order to succeed at something like this, your arguments need to carry not only legal weight but social inertia."

Cathy looked at Cassandra and said, "I don't follow."

"Put simply, Zax is very powerful. They have a lot of social inertia, meaning they can influence public opinion, as well as public officials. In addition, they have enormous financial and other resources to bring to bear on any issue they choose. In short, they set the agenda. Erin's little panty raid on their dungeon 18 years ago, while dramatic, is no more than a mere annoyance to such an organization. Katrina Feltte and Prudence Ardella are powerful, intelligent, and very, very smart. Their schemes and plots are intricate and well thought out: Machiavellian, if you will. Against this, what does Varinia have? A few good legal arguments and perhaps a bit of public sympathy?" Cassandra snorted dismissively. "If she keeps annoying Zax, they are going to swat her away like any pest. She doesn't stand a chance!"

Cathy looked concerned and a little pale. "So what are you going to do?"

"Try and talk some sense into her if I can."

"And if not?"

"Pray."

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

That afternoon, Erin, Kelly, Stacy, Pam, June, Del, Cathy, and Cassandra gathered in the conference room eating lunch and chatting. When they were nearly finished, Erin announced "I think we should begin." The room grew silent and Erin nodded at Cassandra who took a sip of her drink to clear her mouth of any remaining food.

Putting her glass carefully on the table she said "I have spent considerable time reading the original text of the law and I believe I can answer your questions. However, I have some concerns about what you intend to do with this information." She looked directly at Erin when making this last remark. 

Erin held her eyes and said, "It depends on what you tell us. Clearly we can't decide before we hear the facts."

"Fair enough" said Cassandra, "but I warn you that things may not be to your liking."

Erin nodded and said, "Can you tell us about this requirement for an exam of the girls before they are converted? There appears to be a lot of discussion about what is meant by 'exam'. In particular if it includes a psychological as well as physical evaluation."

"Yes" said Cassandra "but it you must understand up-front that there is not a definitive answer here. The problem is the law is sufficiently old that modern equivalents to the archaic terms do not really exist."

Erin raised her eyebrows intrigued as were the other women in the room. "The best translation of this portion of the law says more or less: 'upon attaining the age of majority the child shall be examined to determine if she is of sound body and mind before being transitioned from her minor conservatorship into adult diapered servitude.'" 

There was a buzz of conversation in the room at these words. The mention of the word 'mind' in the text of the law caused a good deal of excitement. However, Cassandra raised her hand for silence and continued, "Before you get too excited let's go over this in detail. The last part is fairly straight forward but worth examining to demonstrate some of the problems of equivalency between the archaic and modern terms. A 'minor conservatorship' refers to the entity that has legal custody of the child while she is a minor. Between the time the law was written and the present, its meaning has remained pretty much the same. In this case, Zax was appointed as the conservator. In pre-modern times, this might not have been the case, but it was not impossible either. However, the conservatorship would most likely have involved regular oversight by a legal representative in pre-modern times, unlike in the present. So you can see there are already some problems with equivalency."

"Does that mean that mean that there are problems with Zax's appointment as conservator?" asked June.

"No. This role has been formally redefined over time, so there is no problem. Essentially the requirements for oversight have been removed in this instance." The women looked at each other, contemplating Cassandra's words. "Now let's move onto the part you're most interested in, the examination. The original intent was fairly clear. The girl was to be examined by a medical professional to see if she was physical fit and mentally capable. However, the word 'mind' here might better be translated as 'brain'".

"Meaning?" asked Erin.

"Meaning that her brain was functioning normally; put more succinctly, that she wasn't severely impaired mentally. The modern implications for mental health do not necessarily apply since they were not particularly as well understood at the time."  

"So it doesn't mean what we thought" said Pam.

"Well not exactly" said Cassandra "it's more complicated. There is the principal of modern equivalency that applies. It states in essence that if the pre-modern authors had, had the technology they would probably have applied it, so it needs to be considered in the modern interpretation. However, such consideration can't radically alter the original intent."

"Great!" said Kelly "So exactly where does that leave us?"

Cassandra smiled and said "Now you begin to understand some of the problems here. I my opinion this would probably be interpreted to include a modern psychological examination."

An excited buzz again filled the room at Cassandra's pronouncement. She waited for the chatter to die down before continuing. "The point is probably moot however, since Zax has already conceded this point by having the first girl examined by both a medtech and psychtech."

"So you are saying we have no case" said Erin.

"No, just that this is the wrong approach to take. A reading of the complete text shows that the purpose of the examine is a precursor to a formal legal review to determine two things: one that the girl is physically and mentally fit to become a slave and, two that she was treated properly during the period of her conservership. In pre-modern times, the later point would have been largely a formality given that there was regular oversight during the period of the conservatorship. The former would have been accomplished by a medical examination when the child came of age. Today the oversight occurs at the end of the conservatorship when the legal review is conducted. In principle Zax must show that each girl is physically and mentally fit and that they complied with all the rules and regulations of the conservatorship at the review."

"So if we could show that the Children were either physically or mentally unfit or that Zax did not comply with the terms of the conservatorship, they could loose their rights to the girls" said Pam.




Notes of a Fastidious Woman



The following notes are written in blue ink on pale blue letter paper, in a round and careful hand.

I will keep notes because I must keep a watch on my feelings. I am proud of being morally fastidious but will have to sail in dangerous waters.

The situation. Found out husband was seeing another woman. His excuse, that I am not 'good in bed'. I said he must leave. I am 39, he 43 with hair very receding but good physique for age & I fear I will not get a better & we could make it work. Will not judge them because 'look for the beam in your own eye' i.e. perhaps I bear part of blame, though not deliberate, but through complacency.

Must do something about bed problem, but what?

I spoke to Cynthia about my problems. Cynthia is 50+ divorcee in nearest village, two ex-husbands if I have got it right.

Cynthia says, it does sound as though I have not been giving husband what men like. She is respectable but does seem to know about it, I think because 2 husbands and she admits did have quite a few boyfriends when younger. I said, we did it whenever he wanted, except of course 'headache' each month.

She says, 'whenever' is not everything, 'whatever' is just as important.

I asked her what she meant. She said (laugh), 'You wouldn't give him fish fingers for supper every night, would you?' (Her exact words.) Men like it different ways, she said. And in fact husband had said things, but they did not sound right for a person like me & I did not want to talk about them e.g. me get on top. I told her this, she laughed again and said, 'Oh, much worse things than that.' She said, you can find videos on line. I said, could I use her broad band? (Our house too remote for broad band.) 

She said, 'On second thoughts, scrub that, because on line videos mainly fantasy, not the most practical.'

I did not know what she meant.

She said, 'Practice makes perfect. If you do get back into bed with hubby, best if you can, as they say, "blow his socks off" right from the get-go.'

I still did not see what she was driving at. She became blunt: 'Get a lover. Someone to give you a crash course.' I said, that would make me as bad as him. She: 'Not at all. Marriage is important, bedrock of society etc.'

'Save it at all costs?'

'Exactly. Not wrong if no other way. I know a man might show you the ropes.'

She is acquainted with a youngish man called Gilbert. She will throw a Tea & invite him &, 'We'll play it by ear.'

*

Gilbert pounced on the last meringue, put it on his plate, then scanned the room for the slim and graceful form of his friend Laura. To his surprise, her voice, with its pleasant rural burr, sounded from right beside him.

'I knew you'd turn up eventually,' she said quietly, reaching for the second-to-last slice of Victoria sponge with a pair of solid silver antique cake-tongs. 'I knew Cynthia would tell you my husband's away.'

'You're the main reason I'm here, but not the only one. I've just had a remarkable conversation.'

'Oh yes? Who with?'

'Someone in this room.'

'Well, obviously.'

'Cynthia thought I could help her.'

'I see. We need to go where we won't be overheard.' She added in a louder voice, 'Gilbert, have you seen Cynthia's delphiniums? They've really got the wow factor. Why don't we go in the garden for a minute?'

'I'm really not sure...'

'Come on.' Lowering her voice again she said, 'Look, have you got the hots for me or not?'

'Yes, but...'

'So come into the garden.' They exited the room through the French windows.

In the garden, Gilbert was disappointed to find that the delphiniums were in full view of the other tea-party guests. 'You got my hopes up. I feel cheated. And you're showing an awful lot of skin, too. I thought it might be for my benefit.'

'It is. I wouldn't want to be showing off my creamy-white collarbones for the delight of all those old-biddies-of-both-sexes in there, would I? I needed a new party dress so I thought I'd get one to torment you. Listen, I may be jumping to conclusions, but I'm guessing Cynthia's tried to set you up with someone.' She scrutinised his face. 'You seem incredibly uncomfortable.'

'Because people keep giving us sidelong glances through the French windows.'

'Don't be silly, why should they - oh my sodden washing! Jean Nagus just looked me up and down with a nasty gleam in her eye.'

'You see, women keep leading me into the garden. First Cynthia led me, with - this other woman - out here, and now you. This is what I tried to tell you. I knew people would be intrigued. I'm already conspicuous because I'm the youngest male here by at least a decade. They'll start coming up with theories. They'll think I'm a slut.'

'You are a slut, Gilbert. A certified male amateur slut, from all I've heard about you.'

'So what do we do now?'

'Tough it out. It's you, me and the delphiniums against the wagging tongues of rural England. So who is it?'

'Cynthia's friend-in-need? I won't add to her burden by giving her away. Let's just say it's a very unlikely person.'

'Not Elaine!'

'My lips are sealed.'

'Sad old bleating ewe. I doubt the greatest screw in the world would cheer her up.'

'I'm not saying who it is. But I will say that I probably won't do it.'

'I don't blame you. Poor old Elaine! The rest of her tribe vanished into a nursing home about 1970. Still, it might do her some good, I suppose.'

'Who said it was Elaine? By the way, did you have a good Valentine's Day?'

Laura laughed. 'I know perfectly well you sent it. And I guessed what it was before I even opened the box. Cheeky devil.'

'Cynthia told me you'd be on your own. I thought you needed comforting. Was the size up to your requirements?'

'Big enough to turn me on. No way will it go... where it's supposed to go, but I love having it around. Crude, me. So why can't you decide about this mystery woman?'

'There are pros and cons. Apparently she just wants to find out what us filthy, disgusting, perverted normal people enjoy. She seems to have no concept of doing it to satisfy her own desires. The problem is, for me, half the point is giving the woman what she's lusting for and getting excited by her pleasure, leading to complete satisfaction all round.'

'Is this a sales pitch?'

'Yes. Then there's the fact that - Cynthia's friend - is somehow not nearly as attractive as she looks, if you see what I mean.'

'This is all cons so far. What about the pros?'

'Sex.'

She laughed, rather ruefully. 'That is a big pro, I do agree.' Then she added, 'But it has to be with the right person, and I don't see Elaine being right for anyone.'

'The bizarre thing is, the person is so much the wrong person, the more I think about her the more I'm tempted. It's the surrealism of her propositioning me that makes it so intriguing. Her face is set in a permanent denial that she possesses anything so shameful as a vagina, yet after one minutes' acquaintance she solemnly requests I perform sexual "variations" on her.'

'It is Elaine! I once told that joke about the vicar's wife and the prize cucumber, in her company I mean, and for twenty minutes after she was too shocked to speak. Bugger-the-ducks, as the farmer's wives say round here, but I'd love to know what would happen.'

'Exactly. Not that I'm saying that's who it is.'

'Do it. Who knows? I might get naughty with you if you tell me all about it.'

'You might. I'm not falling for it, Laura. I need a rock-bottom guarantee.'

Laura giggled. 'A guarantee to let you rock my bottom.'

'Exactly. But we've feasted our eyes on the delphiniums long enough. You'll get all the suspicion of an affair without the pleasure if we don't go back in.'

*

Notes after the Tea

Gilbert good-looking, tallish, full head of hair, not greatest physique, but all beside the point of course. Cynthia said beforehand, 'Pretty lady like you, curves in all the right places etc., in with a chance.' While other guests were chatting, Cynthia took him & me into the garden (lovely, she has help) supposed to 'point out oldest part of house' but in fact she let him & me go on down to the summerhouse. We sat in garden chairs (good wooden ones).

So awkward.

Me: 'I have been told I'm not a good lover.' He put on a surprised look but I saw this was Tact. I explained my situation, then said, 'So I have decided to tempt a man such as yourself with my body.'

This probably not a good choice of words. He asked, 'Such as myself?'

'A man who has explored sexual variations and perversions. Everyone knows there are such people.' I did not say, 'Though it would be better if there weren't,' but I thought it. He did not look drawn to me. (I thought afterwards that perhaps my face had given away my thought.) To make things clear I explained, 'And wants to repeat them.' Again, I think I didn't look disgusted but of course without a mirror can not be sure. I said, 'I have no desire for a romantic entanglement.' (To not put him off, because he is certainly 'not the marrying kind'!)

He: 'I'll seriously consider it. I may get back to you.' I.e. No.

We went back to the house, Cynthia popped out of the shrubbery looking cheerful, 'All fixed up?'

After, I said to Cynthia, 'Perhaps he is not promiscuous enough.'

'I've been told he likes to help.' She was thoughtful, then she asked me, 'Did I relax? Or was I solemn? Make him think you're a fun person.' Etc. Exactly what I could not do. She said, if I had seemed really keen, he might have been more keen. And I said perhaps clothes too modest, though she said, 'Maybe, and the 1950s church-committee look might not be the most enticing, but tarty would put him off, he has taste.'

Perhaps I should have taken off my glasses?

She can't think of anyone else to try. 'I've lost touch with all my old boyfriends.' All! How many? But I must go through with this even if it means being friendly with people who are not morally fastidious. It is not very nice to have to force yourself to offer your body to a man against all your instincts - and then to find yourself not desired after all, even by a lustful person!

Though I have lost my faith I have always been grateful for a Salvation Army upbringing but obviously there are situations it does not prepare you for.

Note: even respectable people sometimes show a tiny bit of cleavage these days at a Tea.

However, Cynthia will speak to him again.

Note about First Wednesday

His flat is much cleaner than I feared. He said, 'Coffee?' etc. but I was firm and said, No, I have not been to London often and planned to find time to see some sights afterwards. (I did not explain I do not wish to get friendly with his sort of person.) I noticed it was warm in his flat, and he said it was so we wouldn't need bedclothes, and all at once I was hit by nerves.

Bed with normal white sheet & pillowcases. Sun through curtains, somehow calming. We had just got in the room when he said perhaps we should start by discussing what I would like to do. But I positively do not want this to be for my pleasure. I said, 'No. Just use my person for your own enjoyment, however you want.'

As requested by him when we spoke on the phone, I was wearing what I wore at the tea-party, but no lipstick. Navy-blue receptionist suit with cream blouse, flesh-colour tights, and black flat shoes. I would have undressed with back to him but he said to face him, and keep glasses on for now. He reclined on bed to watch, saying I should try to get used to being looked at naked. At bra & pants he said to take my time with bra - 'More tantalising.' Then to let him see my chest and not be shy. He said I looked attractive. (Meaning they did, I could tell.)

Then my pants. Told me, turn round. I bent down to take off pants and obviously he was ogling my bottom. I lost my balance slightly when getting leg-hole past foot and stumbled sideways, and tried to keep my behind-crack closed & he said, 'No, don't clench. Let the man see everything.' Then, 'You have a sexy bottom.' In fact I tend to put on weight on all my lower half but I suppose a lustful man does not notice such things. He suggested I wiggle my bottom at him while bending, which I did. I turned to face him. He: 'Stand still a moment.' Looked me up & down and smiled & said, 'Elaine, you're gorgeous,' which did make me less awkward.

Then I lay on the bed & he got up and undressed, which I could not bear to watch, because of nerves & sense of sinfulness.

Though obviously not a moral person, he is not inconsiderate because he said, 'Let's start things off gently this week.' Did not kiss me but lay beside me, nibbled my ear, and cupped and felt one breast & then touched nipple & played with it & then, licking etc. on other one meanwhile. It was difficult because there was pleasure which I should not enjoy, but I just had to endure it. And what increased my feeling of wrongness, his hard male part was pressed against me, near my hip. He said to relax as not sexy if tense. (Did manage to.)

After a time he said he likes to look at women's parts so I said Yes and opened up my legs enough. When he was close he said, 'So beautiful,' as if he really meant it, which I simply can not understand. He was excited by the sight which was obvious from the state of his male part which I glimpsed. Then he put his finger inside me and stimulated me inside, and then played outside on the very sensitive place.

But that was not the most difficult thing. Next he said many men would like it if watching while I played with myself. I thought I should do as I was told, and put my hand among my private hair, but could not make myself touch there. He said to just relax my hand and trust him, and he put my hand how he liked and moved it, and said to go on doing it. He had his face quite close down there and drank up the sight with his eyes, though that part of me had grown moist and must have looked even less nice than usual.

The touching made pleasure I could not ignore & began to breathe hard. I remembered to feel relieved when after a little while he said, 'My Penis needs attention now,' & I could stop. He lay beside me, but head & shoulders on two pillows to watch. Was nervous as I thought I would do it all wrong, but he was considerate and took my hand. He put it down on the part of him where he wanted so I held round the middle part and squeezed and felt it, until he got me to rub my hand up and down instead. To start with it was a little squashy, though enlarged, but almost at once I felt it get almost like wood, and this was a shock, I should have expected but somehow did not & I could not help taking my hand away. But he firmly put my hand back, near the top this time, and I went on moving my hand. Of course he liked this.

This was only the beginning. He got me to kneel by him, and he took off my glasses. (I am short-sighted.) He said to get my face near where I had been rubbing him. I put my face where he still looked slightly blurry to me, but he put his hand on the back of my head and encouraged me nearer, so in fact I saw very plainly all details, colour of skin, shape etc. Beforehand I had told myself to put aside disgust and modesty, and I did succeed enough to do as I was told. He told me he enjoyed my looking at it.

Then, I had to take his Testicles in my hand. He explained to hold them fairly gently & how to move them for his pleasure. He just lay back and breathed for a while. I looked at his face to see if I was doing it right and he had his eyes half-closed watching almost in a trance.

The next thing was to touch the end part of his maleness. He explained the shaft part is not so sensitive and mainly makes pleasure by moving the Foreskin of the top part over the Glans. Also there is the Frenulum. He told me to pull back the Foreskin and touch the Glans, but best if my fingers were wet as his is so sensitive. I licked them and ran two fingers all over it (it is smooth and round), and he said it was wonderful & was panting. There was one awkward thing, my fingers got less moist & he said to wet them again, but I did not want to lick them because of where they had been, so I dribbled some spit straight on him, which I did not like having to do, being a fastidious person. He, not being fastidious, did not mind. Then it was his Frenulum I had to touch, which is a small but most intense part. He next got me to move his Foreskin quite energetically. All this time I was doing his Testicles the way that he liked.

I must do all these things; but also, though shocking, they did have fascination, because it was almost a sort of magic, the way I could rouse that part like a living animal and send him as if into a trance.

I could tell I was exciting him more and more but it still seemed very sudden when his male fluid started spurting out. It took me by surprise, I stopped moving my hand. He had to take my hand to move it until he was satisfied. The most difficult thing was seeing the spurting, which I felt was not something a person ought to see but at the same time I should rejoice in causing it, because this is all a skill I should have at my disposal.

It seemed all the more shocking because it spurted right up his chest, which I would not have imagined.

I apologised for stopping, but he said, 'You wanked me very well.' Then he asked me to get tissues from by the bed and wipe up the fluid on his front, as, if he moved it might drip off onto sheets (so he is not actually squalid). I was not keen, but all I could think of to say was, there seemed to be a lot of it. He: 'Why do you keep looking at it?' This puzzled him. I explained I kept being amazed by having made it appear as if by magic but this didn't mean I thought it was nice. 'Please try not to be repelled,' he said. 'Look, give me your hand again.' He compelled me to dip my fingers in a puddle of the fluid in the middle of his chest. He got me to rub it between my fingers. (It was slippery.) Then he encouraged me to smell it. I thought it might smell bad but it does not. He insisted it is not unhealthy or dirty, because it is not a waste product. In fact then I did manage to wipe it up.

He said thanks, and, 'The bathroom is on the right if you want to wash your hands now,' which I did.

When we were dressing he brought up some other points. He explained about Pre-Seminal fluid, also not all men have a Foreskin (which comes in the Bible, of course). And, 'Remember, they have a mind of their own,' meaning, a man's stiffness, climax etc. cannot be commanded to perform (or sometimes, not perform). Also mentioned that stockings more sexy than tights and also, for next week (there are to be four Wednesdays) when I shave my legs I should not forget to do the very tops of my thighs, where my private hair spreads to a little bit (which I believe is perfectly normal), and I could trim 'bush' as not all men like a big one.

When I was just about to leave he said, 'Homework, I nearly forgot.' He told me 'play with your Clitoris' for 5 minutes every day. I could not think of anything to say to this.

In terms of doing the moral thing I must not start to look forward to Wednesdays. There will sometimes be pleasure but it is only physical and I must keep it at arm's length. I think I am about all right so far.

I will ask Cynthia what she thinks about the 'homework'.

Note about Second Wednesday etc.

Cynthia: 'Most definitely you must do your homework.' To make me more comfortable about the things that happen in bed. 'Just relax after lights-out and do it. What possible harm can it do?' Cynthia is much-feared and sought-after as a bridge player, but could she mean she has done it herself?

So, did do it, and was anxious the 1st night although had washed everything carefully, and was troubled by thoughts that came welling up while doing it, but washed after also and felt better straight away. Set the 5 mins. with kitchen timer. (Tues. evg. baked scones, & found ticking of timer now has associations. Will buy more up-to-date silent timer.)




Notes of a Fastidious Woman



Weds. at his flat, I had remembered to wear stockings not tights - I did wonder, suspender belt? but he did not say anything when he saw my legs. I do not have a suspender belt but gather considered Erotic.

We laid on bed naked & he got on one elbow & said, 'Put your hands under your breasts & present them to me.' Apparently this is exciting. & he played with & sucked etc., then without saying a word began to kiss lower & lower, & past my navel. So I thought he wanted to look and touch, & was not surprised when asked to open my legs. He stopped kissing and did look at me down below, he said again how beautiful I was. But all of a sudden he kissed me there. Just a gentle one, almost just brushing with his lips, but a thrill shot right through that part of me, which must be psychology because physically it was less than last Weds. (fingers). Then passionate kisses and doing things with his tongue & I did find myself wanting it to go on, so nearly said, 'Please stop.' Especially as this was exactly one of the unwanted Thoughts I had had in my 'homework'. But I remembered, should not mess him about as I had asked for him to please himself & I think he was really doing so - i.e. he was not forcing himself to do it with the aim of seducing me onto the slippery slope to a lifetime of debauchery, which of course could well be a danger with men of his type.

He stopped & lay beside me. He said, obviously he could go on & I would probably have a Climax but what I must do next would definitely not appeal to me if my flames of desire were allowed to flare up & burn out in a blaze of glory (not his words, but nicer if made poetic). Then an unwanted wish came, 'A Climax (even in that way) must be thrilling,' so I was glad of the distraction when he said to do the thing he likes to his Testicles with my hand - until he said also to do the same as last Weds. to his erect part but with my lips and tongue.

Even though I have resolved I must plumb the depths of physical depravity, when I put my face near his masculinity I felt I could not. Above all I do not believe I am that sort of person. But he put a hand on the back of my head and raised his Erection in his other hand to my lips, & when the Glans brushed against them I closed my eyes and surrendered to his will. (It tasted of live body, not strong, he had washed just before.) I must have done it quite well because a sort of ecstasy came over him. He was propped on cushions & told me how he loved watching me doing this. Also he fondled my front, when not feeling my behind cheeks.

Next I was to take the Glans right in my mouth & literally suck it, and move skin on shaft up and down at same time with hand. By now I had no will of my own, so did, & thought a good idea to use tongue also, & actually made him moan aloud, which I think Cynthia would call a triumph. I admit it gave me psychological pleasure, of exploration of pure masculinity. Then the inevitable happened with it in my mouth, but in the event not as bad as I had feared, the taste not repulsive. And this way does have the major plus of avoiding mess. He said, if I could bear to, please to swallow the spurted stuff, which with an effort I did, & could do more easily if called upon in future.

He had provided water in a tumbler, and I also wiped with tissues, including my tongue.

He explained people sometimes do both to each other at once.

As about to leave, I said, prefer postpone next Weds. (time of month, but didn't say) & he said, 'Fine, may be best if two weeks using this anyway,' & handed me a parcel. He said I was to continue with my 'homework' as last week but at the same time use what was in the parcel, and if the instructions were not clear (he had not opened it, arrived at last minute & still in its Mail Order wrapping) to find out by going on line. I was intrigued though not without foreboding & fortunately had good sense not to open on the coach home as the coach is always full & no privacy. I am writing this while all fresh in mind & will open parcel next.

*

'This is precisely the attitude I find off-putting,' said Gilbert to Amanda, over Sunday lunch at Annabel's flat. (Annabel is a woman Gilbert regularly has sex with; but she insists they are not a couple. Amanda is her large and over-bubbly cousin.)

'He has a point,' said Annabel. 'Even a purely sexual relationship has an ethical side.'

Amanda said, 'You're just a couple of prudes.'

'You may be right that Elaine is narrow-minded and puritanical, but she's put her trust in me and I'm trying not to exploit her. Not more than she's asked me to, anyway.'

'You could exploit her a little bit more. I don't see how making her swallow your come a couple more times could do any harm.'

'You're only suggesting it because you think she doesn't like it. You want me to humiliate her.'

'Why would I want that?'

'Because,' said Annabel, 'of Miss Bagholt.'

'Who is she?' asked Gilbert.

'An extremely obnoxious French teacher I suffered under,' Amanda explained. 'She victimised me. She was jealous of my sex appeal.'

Annabel said, 'She objected to you entertaining your friends at the back of the class by demonstrating how you could pop a ping-pong ball out of your cleavage. Her approach to teaching French may have been old-fashioned, but you must admit that having ping-pong balls bouncing off the ceiling during a session on irregular verbs is a distraction.'

'There was still no need to persecute me for the next three terms.'

'I suggest that there was.'

'I see,' said Gilbert. 'You think I should satisfy your lust for revenge against Miss Bagholt by using Elaine as a proxy. Don't you think that's rather childish?'

'They're the same sort of person. The sort of person who should be given a dose of their own medicine. The way that woman hounded me -'

'Then there was the time you put a penis-shaped bookmark in her textbook, and it fluttered onto the floor in front of the school inspector.'

'That, I humbly admit, was more by luck than judgement. I only meant to shock her. In any case, nobody should be convicted without evidence. There was nothing to link me to the crime. My two-hour detention was a miscarriage of justice.'

'I thought it was remarkably lenient.'

'Annabel,' said Gilbert, 'if you've ever worried that Amanda would take your place, this is why your fears were groundless. I could never be intimate with anyone so vindictive. By the way, Amanda, can you still do the thing with the ping-pong ball?'

*

Note on Parcel Contents

Items in parcel had no instructions & just said 'See Web Site' in seven languages, & product names were in Chinese, which I believe is a hazard of ordering On Line. The things are: a squirting device (i.e. a tube with a bulb); a plastic bottle of clear slippery stuff; a pack of disposable latex gloves, as used by doctors; and four firm black rubbery things in different sizes, smallest about as thick as my thumb. Took all to Cynthia at first opportunity.

She only said, 'Let's do as it says and take a look at the web site, shall we?' but I had impression she was amused, which made me uncomfortable. We drew up chairs at her lap top & found product nos. on web site.

Product nos. led us to videos, thank goodness not Explicit, only instructions spoken by cheerful young woman (English), clothes smart casual, displaying the products on a table. Purpose of items was explained.

Could not believe ears. I asked, 'Do people really do it in that place?'

'The Continental Alternative? Certainly. I believe it's very popular in some quarters.'

Me: 'So - the bulb thing is for inside cleansing with warm water - but the rubbery things...?'

'To develop your capacity. Start with smallest & work up. Most considerate of G. to supply the things, including the douche and gloves, which I gather the majority do without. He obviously understands you. Or he feels the same way about hygiene as you do.' Did not dare ask whether she had done it, but luckily she said, 'Never done it myself, but many have asked. Doesn't appeal - tastes differ.' Many asked! But at least she refused.

'Must I do it?'

'Not at all, because G. is a gentleman & will not insist. But I say you must, because good to have plenty strings to your bow.'

Note on Third Wednesday

Texted G. Weds a.m. to say I must arrive early (to get myself clean). He said OK, he will alert neighbour (who has spare key) & I can let myself in as his work-from-home is only afternoon. The cleaning takes time.

While alone in flat made search for signs of depravity but found none, so conclude that his life is not wholly dedicated to it.

In bed he asked, had I used the things in the box? (He called them Sex Toys.) I said Yes. He: 'How big a one did you manage by yesterday?' It was biggest one but he was not sure how big that was. He told me to manually make his maleness completely stiff, & say if he was thicker than the biggest one.

'About the same.'

Next question, had it hurt me?

'Not really, but the things stretched me, so at first I thought they were about to, but did it very slowly & left each one in until more relaxed, and all OK and by Monday no difficulty.' (All this was as per the young lady's instructions.)

He was relieved. He had meant to say previous Weds., to stop if it hurt. Then, asked had I had pleasure using the things? I did not like to say. He: 'Then you did enjoy it, because you would not hesitate to say No.'

'A little pleasure at first, but when I touched myself at the front got more.' Thought I had better put him fully in the picture & I made myself divulge, 'At the back. Strong sensations.'

He did not say anything to this, but only kissed my cheek, & then breasts for a little while & then went down to my private parts. He kneeled in between my legs and I just had to let him kiss and lick, & I became very stimulated.

He said to give him one of his pillows, & he tucked it under my behind so hips raised. Then, 'Feel under my other pillow & give me what's there.' It was a bottle of the gel stuff as had been in the parcel, and also a disposable latex glove, so I guessed exactly what he was going to do. I was so very stimulated in my female parts I actually wanted him to do it, & had forgotten about being fastidious, though I did have the fastidious thought, 'It's good about the glove.'

I had to fold up my legs with my hands behind my knees, knees almost to my chest. Of course this was to make access easy to everything down below & he lay with his face close. Squirted gel (quite a lot) between the 2 openings down there, then with finger (gloved) moved gel down to the behind hole & teased the outside, while my front part he licked, & I actually had the plan, 'If I make that hole behind not resist it will encourage him in further,' so tried to relax it. I do not think I am becoming depraved as I had forgotten my normal self. I will only forget myself within marriage in the longer term.

My plan worked & soon he was tempted to push his finger up my behind & while he did it he said the hole felt soft & he would do more, but I was to say if it hurt & he would stop at once. So then it was two fingers, in-and-out movement, and it did not hurt in the least and then three. All this time he was licking intimate front parts & my head was in a whirl. I said something - I do not remember what, it was almost as if my voice came from another plane. He stopped licking and said, 'OK, I'll do it now.' He kneeled up and took off the glove, which was perfectly clean but he rolled it off inside-out anyway, which I approved of, and dropped in waste paper basket by bed. He said to feel under my pillow, & there was a Durex in its packet. He said to put it on him, & kneeled by me & showed me how (it must be got the right way or will not unroll). When it was on him I had to put some gel on it & spread it all over his stiffness, & I suddenly had new thought, of how sturdy and full of fine masculinity it looked. To admit the truth my fingers were trembling with anticipation.

I lay on my front & he on top & I surrendered utterly, he told me to spread my behind-cheeks with my hands, hard, to open myself as much as I could, and very slowly but firmly pushing his stiffness into the behind hole, & this opened me more & more and his stiffness began to go up inside, and I began to feel very stretched by his thickness but I did not mind & in fact had psychological pleasure thinking of a big manhood going in there. So, the upshot was I could accommodate him in there with pleasure physical and psychological & he reached round and under, and rubbed my front sensitive part, which all seemed to elevate me so I thought, 'They must have this in Heaven,' which before I would have rejected but in fact I do think it must be so, or something that feels like it, because I could not imagine there is a greater Bliss than what I was feeling. The Bliss increased & increased until the flames of pleasure flared up to great heights, utter consummation & indescribable, my behind hole sharing in the pleasure, and then gently died down. As it died down I felt his great manhood (I do not know if it is exceptionally large, but naturally it felt like it when in there owing to nature of hole) pulsing & knew he had also reached fulfilment just after me.

After, he said it was my Climax had made him do likewise. He is excited by them. 

Preparing that part of myself so it is clean & hygienic almost seems to turn it into something else, something made for what he did to me. I could not do it otherwise & if get husband back will plan how to fit special hygiene into ordinary domestic routine as think I will want to do it at regular intervals. I believe I score a point even over Cynthia, in pleasing a man, because of the way this comes naturally to me.

Next Weds. is the last. When I was ready to go G. said he thought 'homework' had served its purpose & I could stop. But in fact will continue because one must keep in form.

Notes on Final Wednesday

Slightly dreading seeing G. as 'homework' has caused many thoughts of a sexual nature to bubble up over recent weeks & must summon up courage to speak to him about them, ask whether exciting for men etc. as they had shown there are things I was still in the dark on. In fact there might be much information to take in as I wanted a final full run-down if possible.

Reminder to self: order more slippery stuff. I dare say a really big bottle will work out cheaper in long run.

Explained about sexual thoughts to G, and luckily he seemed to guess very quickly. He was interested in all & said he had done some & enjoyed. He said, on the question of doing it the normal way but with one of the Sex Toy things in the behind part of me, he advised broach all 'bottom' things cautiously to husband. He said my idea of taking husband's manhood in my mouth with my bust pushed up to please his Testicles between them, well worth trying. There were other things, will not list all. Says I have 'good sexual imagination'.

It was all food for thought.

I asked, 'I suppose today you will satisfy yourself by using my body the normal way?' as that is what we had not done yet. He said Yes, but explore positions.

We did each position for just a little while and no climax, to give me the idea. The last one was, he lay back and ordered me to kneel over him, and me introduce his manhood into myself. He said men like sometimes to relax and have women do sex to them, or even she dominate him. So did as husband had requested all that time ago, it seems nothing now & was a mistake to ever refuse. (This shows my brush with adultery, perversion etc. has been successful.) I was in control, so tables were turned and he could not stop me, and my head was in a whirl so neither could I, and I felt his fulfilment in me all of a sudden.

He apologised because he had very much wanted me to end with a climax, as this the last Weds., and asked whether I would wait for him to get stiff again.

What I did next was justified because he had instructed me I should sometimes show initiative. I asked, should I show him how much I had learned? He said, yes please. In an imperious tone I responded that he was to stay in bed to wait at my pleasure. So I went to bathroom, and in due course was ready.

I went back in (he was patiently reading) and told him to close his eyes and I might surprise him. There is a drawer by his bed which I guessed had Durex, which it did, and I manually, plus a little orally, excited all his maleness until fully stiff and put a Durex on it. The slippery stuff was there too, and I put much on, and he had a sort of quietly delighted smile. I said quite sternly, 'You mustn't do anything until I tell you. You will let me show you I have been a good learner,' which was a sort of dominance which I think he liked, and I definitely liked, because I had been so subject to his will up to then. And then I kneeled over him again but I commanded him to hold my bottom-cheeks apart (his hands there felt manly and exciting on my softness) and this time I introduced his great manhood very slowly in stages up the other hole (I had prepared it in the bathroom having brought the douche 'just in case'), and I relaxed the hole eagerly and straight away had joyous sensations as he stretched me, and soon, Bliss, and used his thick stiffness for my delight for as long as I wanted, and I seemed to succeed in my aim of enhancing his heavenly pleasures through witnessing my arousal. Much of the time he was contemplating the rhythmic bouncing of my bosom with great lust, but I uttered involuntary panting & moaning which seemed to stimulate him, and I think I actually said something about 'my big bad bum-bum', until I desired full consummation and ordered him to stroke my sweetest part with his fingers and all was the pinnacle of rapture for both as I had the satisfaction of feeling his manly fluid climaxing into me at the exact same moment, right up inside the place where two weeks ago I didn't even know people did it!

(My bottom is not really all that big.)

I had evidently pleased him successfully, so I do not think it was wrong, greatly though I enjoyed it. In fact he said I had 'turned into a brilliant lover', and deserved another climax as a reward, but this I politely declined.

Being the last of the four Wednesdays I had to remind myself that physical pleasure must not take over my life & I had a more important end in sight. He had helped me no end but I don't expect to see him again, unless superficially at Cynthia's. I asked one last thing, which was, any advice on seducing my husband back into bed? He said, 'I must confess I have been behind your back.'

To this I replied, 'You certainly have!' which made us both laugh. But he meant that he had been in touch with Cynthia and asked her about my husband (whom she has met several times) - could she take a guess at how I might gain allure for him?

He had pondered her reply and the upshot is, a parting present of a certain dress. He found it on the web site whence he got the Toys. It is long and red, and rather low at the front, but the special feature is, tight around the hips and a long, long v-shaped slit from the shoulders down to just above the woman's behind, then a button (which he says if I wore the dress, any man would be tempted to undo) then an oval hole created by the button, just to make a peep-hole to give a view of the top of the behind cleavage. G. said, 'It's a pretty strong hint.'

*

'Before you ask, Annabel, no, I didn't give her one of your questionnaires. She'd have thought it strange.'

Annabel is a keen amateur sexologist, and is collecting data for her Open University thesis. 'It's so frustrating. A woman who takes to anal sex so readily, with no discomfort - she's like gold dust for my research. How do you know she preferred it to vaginal?' Annabel looked up from her notepad with her pen poised.




Notes of a Fastidious Woman



'Because something happened to her the last time we did it. She started by exclaiming, "I'm doing you with my big bad bum-bum," - her bottom is rather big - and then she became inspired and erotic doggerel came pouring out of her mouth. Such as, "Bliss I find with your love up my behind," and, "I've got a lovely botty-hole, stretch it with your lovey-pole."'

Annabel noted this and said, 'That does sound fairly conclusive. Will she get her husband back, do you think?'

'When I asked Cynthia how Elaine might restart the relationship, Cynthia said, "Well, I've had the devil of a job keeping him away from my rear entrance these last few months."'

'So she was the Other Woman.'

'Yes. But apparently there's a vigorous young combine harvester dealer in the next village with a weakness for older women, so she's ready to send Elaine's husband back. And I flatter myself he'll find a warmer welcome at home than he could ever have imagined.'