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The Invisible

By: Meena86



It is unbelievable. I can hardly believe it. But I swear this really happened.

Before I begin I should say that I am a 27 year-old, half-Indian, 5-foot tall, exotic, petite, sex goddess, yes with a big head, but also with dark eyes and an hour-glass figure and long black straight hair. I am frequently stared at. I am not your tpical shy Eastern girl. But I have a nice face and figure and I like to show off a bit, and I suppose this story is me showing off. Anyway, I have Bollywood beauty and a big mouth, with a fairly long nose and long, dark lashes, bony shoulders, little arms, cute shoulders, little feet, a nice tummy... I have soft, fair brown skin.

And so it was that during the heat wave, a few weeks ago, when everyone in England struggled to sleep and when the nights were sticky and close, my boyfriend and I went to bed, little knowing what hot adventures lay ahead. 

We were house-sitting for a friend – two weeks in an unfamiliar bed, bedroom and house; two weeks of leisure. 

I feel the cold, usually, but last July it was so hot and humid hardly anyone wore hardly anything to bed. Remember? So I wore my nightie - a little blue/black, mini-nightie with frilly cream lacy edges - no bra, no undies. 

James is my boyfriend and we have been together for many years – childhood sweethearts. I trust him. This is what he says happened:

He awoke to find me dreaming, lying on my back in the darkness – muttering under my breath, head tossing from side to side, a little agitated, fists clenched beside my bare shoulders. He watched me for a minute. He said I calmed down but continued to murmur, and then, he claims, I started to moan in an erotic, low, husky whimpering. He said it was difficult to see what was going on. He was half asleep and the room was half lit. But he became stiff straight away; his cock knew something was sexy. He could see I was aroused. He could hear I was masturbating, or something.

James said my nightie had ridden up around my waist, just below my belly; my bare legs were stretched out on top of the sheets, knees akimbo. I wear nice viscose polyemede night clothes, stretchy, clinging...the sort one can't wear easily if cousins or friends are in the house. Bedroom wear only. Anyway, on this occasion James says I put a hand between my legs. I was rubbing myself lightly. My other hand was touching my face. He said I got more and more excited; breathing faster, moving my hand faster. So too he got excited. He wanted to wake me; 'to climb on top of me' he said, but he also wanted to wait and see what happened next. Curious. He said he removed his shorts and took his cock in his hands, and naked played with himself, watching, straining his eyes in the poor light.

'Oh, oh gosh,' I started to moan, 'oh, ah, ah.'. James wanted to cum, he was so amazed, but he held back. 

My C-cup, 32 inch breasts were concealed inside my nightie, but James says they were clearly impressed against the viscose, and a little visible at the sides. My parted legs looked wholly horny as I fingered and fondled my clit.

James said a funny thing happened next: 'Oh fuck, oh yes,' I said. I was talking in my sleep. I was really cuming 'Oh yes. Now. Now.' I was pulling my nightie up a bit - above my tummy. But I had stopped playing with myself. I was just lying on my back, thighs parted, as if some invisible guy were fucking me. James felt freaked out. He watched frozen in a stupor. I came loud now - 'oh yesss' and I had pulled my nigtie up over my naked ribs, to just below my chest. I came sooo sweetly, face clenched, eyes screwed shut, hands gripping my nightie, all the time on my back helpless and hot, as real and odd as if an invisible agent were on top of me. 'Yes baby, oh nice.' My inner thighs jerked, James said, as if accepting a man's climax.

This was weird. James – who doesn't believe in anything supernatural – actually believed I was making love to an invisible man. But, then, suddenly, it stopped. I went quiet. I sighed, smiled and rolled over onto my side, deep asleep. James didn't cum. Not that night. He said he felt very, very strange. Aroused but miffed. But I definitely had an orgasm. No memory of it though. And the next night something else happened, just as odd as that first time, but more erotic.

I will tell you all, nice readers, but not until I get some feedback on this incident. Has anyone else experienced anything like this? OMG - it was so strange. And horny.

The Invisible Ch. 02



It seems weird when I write it, but this did happen this summer.

The next night I am lying on my back. Again, I am seemingly deep asleep; my hands behind my head acting like a pillow, elbows akimbo. I am content, blissfully unaware of the world and its woes, with my fiancé alongside me. 

Again, I am wearing a little nightie – this one is a different colour - red, with frilly, lacy, white edges – but my figure is the same; mature, shapely, 27-year-old and fleshy, 5 foot 5, petite, 32 C, size 10, almost 12, big in the right places, small in the right places. My skin is brown and my black hair is shoulder-length. 

James, my boyfriend, says that I lay on my back, my legs bare and beautiful, long and sexy, exposed to the world, my naked arms so dainty, my neck so biteable, my vulnerability so charming. He waited and stared at me, already hard, already naked himself, waiting, waiting, waiting, expecting something amazing to happen. 

Eventually, well after midnight, it started.

It started with a murmur, like before; a gentle moaning, tossing, some heavy breathing. I was fast asleep, but moved my hands down to my hips and pulled my nightie up to uncover my sex – a small patch of black hair...oh gosh. James says my thighs parted, my knees parted. 'Mmmmm, oh, oh, ah, ah...yes' as if someone were fingering or licking me, but no one was there. Just me. My hands were both dormant, one on each hip. No one was touching me. 'Oh yes, I like that. Oh! Oh!' I was talking in my sleep.

James started stroking his cock, up and down, slow and thick and big. He was soooo aroused. I looked so fucking hot, he said. 'Oh, ah, ah,' I was beginning to orgasm, like I normally do with James, but this time alone. My legs were parting wider, flat now on the mattrass. I was fast asleep but I was talking. 'Yes, baby, like that, oh, ah.' I lifted my nightie upwards, above my Bollywood-belly-button... 

James reached over and put his hand on my thigh. I felt warm. I felt soft. He wanted to finger me. But he didn't dare disturb me further. With his other hand he continued to play with himself. Was I just having a vivid dream; a beautiful wet fantasy while asleep? It seemed more. It was more. Someone was fucking me. 'Oh, push, push deep, oh god..' I was talking, moaning. The muscles in my thighs seemed to be shifting up and down, as if taking an invisible cock. 'Oh god, yes, mera Raja, mera pyar, I want it – oh fuck me!' Then I got really excited. I was cuming. I lifted my nightie up more – over my chest, up over my head and held it pinned beind my neck. James says that the sudden, proud appearance of my breasts almost made him cum on his hands, but he stopped stroking with a jerk. 

'Please, yes, fuck me now, deeper Raja, deeper.' I was saying all this out loud, as if awake. James said my boobs were big and full and sexier than ever. The lights were off but he could see pretty clear. My body was moving, literally. It was so weird for him. No one else was in the room, but it was so vivid, real, horny, hot and exciting. He was close again to climaxing himself.

'Raja, mera Raja,' I was saying in my sleep, 'cum inside me.'

I tensed all my muscles. 'Yes, please I want you.' For one fanciful moment James said he thought he saw the outline of a man in the gloom, missionary, moving above between my legs, but it was probably a trick of the light. James could not control himself any longer. As I was moaning, as I was lying ready on my back, albeit asleep, James manoeuvred above me and pushed himself inside. It was so easy.

'Oh god,' I cried, 'yes.'

Apparently I felt very wet. It slipped in like a knife into butter. He didn't take long. I woke just as he was shooting his cum inside me. 'Ahhh,' he gasped.

'Wow, James,' I said, opening my eyes, accepting him, realising for the first time that I was naked, prostrate, submissive beneath his heavy body. 'Oh James, I thought I was dreaming, but it was you all the time.' I held his buttocks and pushed him closer to me. 'James!'

'Yes,' he said, a little out of breath, a little red in the face, already flaccid in me. 'Yes, it was me...'

There was something in his tone – he was lying. And so was I. 

Later he asked me if I knew someone called Raja. 'No.' Then I thought for a moment. Yes, years ago, a boy who lived near us when I was a teenager. He moved away. I don't know what happened to him. 

'Did you fancy him?' James asked. 

'Yes, sure,' I said, 'he was gorgeous. He was one of my first boyfriends.'

'And what does 'mera pyar' mean?' he asked me.

'My love,' I said.



The Invisible Line



As he sipped his gin and tonic he realised he had mixed it too strong. A little dutch courage was a godsend on nights like this, but he had to keep his wits about him. He dragged his eyes away from the muted television to his watch. Fifteen minutes had passed. He thought a moment, and decided she could wait a little longer.

He sipped again and took a steady, calming breath. He was still nervous, despite everything. He wouldn't show it, that wouldn't be proper, but he was worried about an invisible line he might cross. They had spoken about it beforehand, he knew the hard limits, but there was still a voice in his head that asked what if I go too far?

That was the voice of a younger him, skinny and spotty, who lit candles and played music for his first time making love. He had even called it that. Making love. He chuckled to himself at the thought. That was before he had ever fucked anyone. Back before words like dominant and submissive hadn't meant anything more than their dictionary definitions. Before anyone had looked up at him from their kneeling position and called themselves his dirty little cum slut. When pain and pleasure were two different concepts.

A lot had changed since then.

His mind wandered to his second first time. The first time he had realised that this was the way sex was supposed to be. That he had awoken something within himself that had lain dormant. It was now an inescapable truth that to be made to feel powerful was the truest form of sexual gratification. And it wasn't a glossy, pedestrian fantasy anymore, it was a grounded reality. She was waiting for him in the other room, almost certainly more nervous than him. 

He took out his phone to scroll through the text messages she had been sending him throughout the day. She had started early, his phone had buzzed as soon he sat down at his desk.

'I can't stop thinking about your cock...' she had written. He had smiled to himself and started on his tasks for the day. As always, his silence just encouraged her to send more. She liked to tease him when he was unable to physically stop her doing so.

'Please Sir, can I come to your work and suck it?'

'You know how much I love it when you blow on my face.'

'Just thinking about it is making me so fucking wet.'

She certainly knew how to get under his skin. The next message an hour later had a photo of her in the mirror wearing red lingerie with the words 'I bought these the other day. I can't wait for you to get cum on them...'

So it had gone on throughout the day. It would have been fine if she had not decided to give him detailed, step by step descriptions of her pleasuring herself while he sat in a meeting with his supervisor. Admittedly, he had been foolish enough to put his phone on the table, but the constant stream of messages caused his boss to ask if he had somewhere better to be. He apologised, which he hated doing and proceeded to sit, teeth gritted, through a condescending lecture on taking his work more seriously. Nothing could be more antithetical to who he was than being treated like a child by his employer. His blood boiled and when he was sent back to his desk he began devising her punishment.

Twenty minutes had passed. Abandoning his drink, he got up and walked to the bedroom. The door creaked open and he closed it quietly behind him, stopping to survey her. She was on her knees on the bed, leaning against the headboard where her hands were cuffed. Her blindfold was still in place, but she had turned her head to face him when she heard the door creak all the same. The silken bonds he had used to immobilise her legs were dangling from the foot of the bd. For a moment he thought about grabbing her and tying her down again, but he reconsidered. The punishment was over. She had taken it very well. It was hard to tell where the skin of her buttocks ended and the red underwear began, he had spanked her so hard. Upon closer inspection he also saw a perfect rectangle of red around her lips where he had pulled the tape off.

Without speaking, he moved to the bed and settled in behind her, running his hands over marks he had left on her. She flinched at his touch though that did not deter him. His cum was drying on her back and legs where he had left his mark. Pulling out would have been very unsatisfying for her; he knew how much she enjoyed taking his load deep inside her. She made sure to tell him.

He watched her in silence, feeling the almost palpable sense of anticipation in the air. She wouldn't dare speak until he did.

"You were very bad today, weren't you?" he asked.

"Yes, Sir." She responded dutifully.

"And you know why I had to punish you, don't you?" he continued, leaning over to the bedside table, reaching for the drawer.

"Because I'm a slut, Sir."

"Yes you are." He said, closing the drawer, his hand wrapped around the toy he had been searching for.

"Whose slut are you?" he asked, calmly as he lowered his boxer shorts and began to slowly coax himself towards an erection.

"Yours, Sir." She responded quickly.

"Say it properly." He insisted, feeling himself growing.

"I'm your slut, Sir."

The device in his right hand was an innocuous little thing. Shiny silver, not much bigger than the battery that powered it. It was quite effective, though, and he noticed her begin to tremble as the device came alive, humming between his fingers. He reached around her leg and, pushing her underwear aside, pressed the device against the sensitive, wet skin between her legs. She let out a timid moan and the handcuffs clinked against the metal bedframe as she jumped. With his free hand he pulled the lacy red fabric aside and admired the perfectly straight line where the red skin met white, before guiding himself inside her. She shuddered as he pushed his hips forward, feeling the vibrations cascading down her skin to his own. It was a very pleasant sensation.

"Oh... fuck." She gasped.

"Shhhhhh," he said, placing his free hand on her left hip as she stifled another moan.

"Now, be a good girl and cum for me."

"Mmhmm... Yes, Sir."

He rocked back and forth slowly, grinding his shaft down on the underside of her belly. Pressing harder with the vibrator he watched her knuckles turning white on the bed frame as she spread her legs wider to receive him deeper. The smell of sex that hovered in the room filled his nostrils, stirring him on.

"Come on, you know you want to." He coaxed her as she began to moan in rhythm with his thrusts. Over time he had learned to read the changes in her body, to let them guide his actions. Her moans, just short of speech, told him she wanted it harder and faster. There was pleasure building inside her, as there was within him. Hers was more volatile, louder and more profound when it arrived but starkly disappointing if missed. It happened more often than not, or so he believed, and she had no cause to lie. As he had come upon his moment of discovery that to dominate someone sexually was the greatest pleasure he knew, so she had once discovered that she desired nothing more to be made submissive. They were matching pieces in a set.

Her first orgasm appeared to surprise her more than him. She shuddered from her neck, down her back to the point where they were connected. A long moan escaped her lips as she tried to say something, but the power of speech had been robbed from her momentarily. She took deep breaths, like a runner, through her gritted teeth.

"More?" he asked.

"Mmmhmmm." she nodded enthusiastically, her face pressed up against the bed frame.

He clicked the button on the end of the toy and felt the vibrations increase.

"Don't be shy, this is why you're here, remember? This is why you keep coming back."

A string of curses escaped her lips.

Moments later, the second orgasm followed the first. He had stopped moving by this point, but stayed sheathed inside her, tensing the muscles of his buttocks to make himself jolt ever so slightly.

"Keep going." He insisted.

"No, more please..." she stammered, clumsily trying to roll away from him. He chuckled and clicked the button on the vibrator again, pushing as hard as he could. Her pleas trailed off into a desperate whine of pleasure.

"Say you love it when I fuck you like this." 

"God I love it when you tie me down and fuck me... Master."

He should never have told her how much power that word had over him. His heart raced as soon as she said it, barely audible between her moans. His muscles in his legs locked and his grip tightened on her hip. Thrusting again, a groan escaped his own lips as the vibrations, the view of her bound on her knees in front of him and her words conspired to bring him to the edge.

He came inside her not long after, which caused her to cum again, as though the pleasure he felt had spread from him into her. Her muscles clenched around him, trying to force him out of her so her fluids could release while her moans reached a crescendo. 

As the pair fought to catch their breaths he pulled out of her, and a tide of her cum flowed with him, dripping down her legs and soaking her underwear which had snapped back into place. She collapsed onto her side and he lay next to her, propped up on his elbows. He watched her panting for a moment before reaching over and untying the blindfold, which was damp with her sweat. She smiled at him as the material fell away through her flushed cheeks and smudged eyeliner.

"Good girl." He whispered, kissing her gently on the lips and turning to reach for the key. He paused, his hand hovering over where it lay and turned back. She smiled at him and nodded, pushing back the invisible line a little further. Taking her cue, he rolled back and fixed the blindfold back over her eyes.

"Very good girl." He said, before getting to his feet and heading for the door, taking note of the time as he left. 

See you in twenty minutes he thought to himself.



The Invisible Man



He was walking… in a long, narrow room… wearing nothing but a hat. There were beautiful girls… on both sides of him… as he passed through. One called out… “He’s here! He’s here!”… and they flocked around him. He reached out… and handled many of their breasts. They didn’t seem to mind. He could feel several hands… roaming his genitals. It was ecstasy! He climaxed… shooting his cum onto countless hands… as they continued to play. Suddenly… the group dispersed… as one young woman… started to approach him. He couldn’t see her face… the light being too bright… but somehow he knew her… didn’t he? Just before the fire alarm went off… the letters D and H came to his mind. Fire alarm? Wha…

Kevin woke up and turned off the alarm clock. He was sweaty, and, he noticed, he had come in his sleep.

“Ugh, great,” he said to himself. He got cleaned up, dressed, ate, and went off to school.

He went to his morning class and tried paying attention to what Miss McDougal was saying, but ultimately failed. Miss McDougal was Kevin’s young history teacher, and she was incredibly attractive, both in face and body. None of the boys in class could ever really pay attention, (and the school stupidly wondered why the girls clearly had the higher scores in the class).

Right around noon, Kevin walked past the locker rooms on his way to the cafeteria. His eyes fell on the words “Girls Locker Room” and instantly his usual fantasy came to mind. It varied slightly from to day to day, but like every other day, he forced the thought out of his head again fairly quickly. If he dwelled on such “unholy” thoughts too much, he would never complete his senior year, (at least that’s what his father always said).

After school, Kevin biked home taking his usual route. He glanced away from the sidewalk for just a second, causing him to nearly run right into a man who seemed to have come out of nowhere.

“Jeez, watch it, man,” Kevin said.

“Oh, sorry about that,” the man replied, “Darn thing dropped me down too close again.” Having no idea what the man was talking about, Kevin started to ride off. “Hey wait a minute,” the man called after him, “What’s your hurry, Kev?” Kevin stopped again and turned around.

“How’d you know my name?”

“Lucky guess?” the man said, smiling. Kevin gave him a puzzled look. “Come on back, I have something for ya,” the stranger said. Kevin figured he probably shouldn’t, but the guy seemed harmless enough. Kevin rode back up to him and dropped the kickstand.

“Alright, so what’s this all about?” he asked. To answer his question, the man pulled an ordinary-looking white baseball cap out from behind his back and presented it as if it were something extraordinary and priceless. “No thanks, mister,” Kevin said, “I don’t really wear hats, they make my head itch.”

“Well maybe you ought to try it on for size anyway, just in case,” the man replied, his eyes sparkling. So Kevin, starting to feel impatient, tried the hat on to humor the man.

“Okay, it feels like a cap. So what?” The man pulled a mirror out of his pocket and showed it to Kevin. In it, Kevin could see the road behind him, the trees, and the blue sky… but not himself. “What the hell is going on here?” Kevin asked, startled.


“You’re invisible,” the man said simply, as if he had said it a hundred times before.

“Well yeah, but how?”

“On your head you’re wearing the ClearView 2.4, Model C – an invisibility cap,” the man said, as if he were doing a commercial. Kevin had to let his words sink in for a moment. He suddenly had so many questions he didn’t know where to start. The man, as if reading Kevin’s mind, started explaining. “This model here came out right around 2075 as I recall. My boss, Jerome Gates, gets his kicks by buying a bunch of these babies up and sending them back in time for me to distribute them. My computer locked on you, so, congratulations! Just don’t use it for evil; don’t change history too much, you know, common sense stuff. Seeya later, kid.” The man pulled some weird gadget out of his pocket and was about to push a flashing green button when Kevin broke in.

“Wait a second! What am I supposed to do with this thing?” The man patted him on the shoulder and said,

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” and winked. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.

It took Kevin a while to get his bike rolling again, and once he got going, the wheels in his head were still going much faster than the ones on his bike. A car passed by him, nearly knocking him off the road. He started to yell at the driver, then realized the problem. He was still invisible. He pulled the cap off his head, feeling foolish. He was obviously going to have to be more careful.

The next day, he arrived at school with the cap in his backpack. He walked past the locker rooms, same as every day, then stopped abruptly.

“The girls’ locker room,” he thought to himself, “Of course! How did I not think of that sooner? All I need to do is put on the ClearView and go right in. And after that, who knows?” He was filled with excitement, just at the thought of it all. He glanced at his watch. It was 7:55; five minutes until classes started. He didn’t think anyone was looking so he put on the hat, and went inside.

There were several girls inside already, getting changed for first period swim class. Kevin watched in awe as several of them got fully nude in order to put on their bathing suits. No one even looked in his direction as he began taking off his own clothes as well; (it seemed like a good idea at the time). When everything was off (except the cap of course), he went up and rubbed his hand against a pretty girl’s backside, feeling the warm flesh through her suit. She turned around to see who it was, but upon seeing no one there, she turned back again, confused.

“This is going to be great,” Kevin thought. But then class started and the girls all left the room and headed towards the pool. The place was empty in a few seconds. Kevin started to think that maybe he had timed this badly, but then he heard one of the showers switch off. He looked in the direction of the sound but didn’t see anyone. Then after a few moments, an attractive woman emerged, wearing one towel tied at her chest and another on her head. Kevin wondered briefly why she was in the girls’ locker room but then he recognized her. “Oh my God,” Kevin’s mind went, “It’s Miss McDougal!” His heart immediately exploded in his chest. He knew he had to take this opportunity or he would never forgive himself. He approached his teacher and stood right beside her as she worked the combination on one of the lockers. Kevin knew this was a delicate situation but he didn’t have time to think. He whispered her name, Sondra, into her ear. She jumped and looked in his direction. Her towel almost fell off, causing Kevin’s heart to skip another beat. Confused and a little scared, she asked,

“Who’s there?” Kevin ignored the question.

“Please,” he went on, “Trust me to give you the attention you deserve. You’re beautiful, Sondra, and your body is a magnificent work of art.” Having whispered that, Kevin started loosening her towel. He felt possessed. Maybe the cap had something to do with it.

“What are you doing?” she said, still dazed, clutching the towel to her chest.

“Shhhhh,” Kevin comforted her. He pulled her towel off revealing her flawless body. Kevin had fantasized about seeing it and now the privilege was his. Amazingly, she didn’t try to cover herself, because to her, there wasn’t anyone to hide her nudity from. Kevin’s eyes followed her curves, as she stood entranced, breathing heavily. Kevin touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers and whispered, “Everything’s alright; just let your self go. I’ll take care of the rest.” She closed her eyes and nodded. Kevin couldn’t be sure what was going through her mind, but he guessed it was a mixture of confusion, fear, excitement, and lust.

Kevin started fondling her large breasts, exhaling deeply as he did so. Kevin had felt nothing so wonderful before; they were beyond compare. He took her nipples into his mouth, going back and forth between her tits. He then knelt down, and started eating her delicious pussy, burying his face between her thighs. She was so smooth and warm inside. Kevin tried to imagine what this must look like - a woman wearing nothing but a towel on her head, leaning against a row of lockers, and seemingly being pleasured by no one at all. That’s what someone would have seen if they had happened by.

After several minutes of glorious, mouth-watering oral sex, Miss McDougal trembled and jerked from her orgasm, and would have fallen down if Kevin hadn’t caught her. Then Kevin pulled out all the stops and kissed his teacher deeply, thereby sharing some of her own juice with her. His hands returned to her perfect breasts; they just wouldn’t stay away. After that, he pulled back a few steps to enjoy one last glimpse of her nude form. She opened her eyes and looked around. Kevin thought she looked like she was just coming out of some type of hypnosis. Almost to herself she said,

“Thank you,” and then turned away. She pulled her towel back on and went about opening the locker and getting dressed. Kevin watched closely as her nakedness eventually disappeared behind her clothing. When she was dressed, Miss McDougal headed for the door. Kevin couldn’t resist touching her butt one last time as she walked by. She paused and turned around halfway. A little grin lit up her face, then she pushed the door open and finally left.

Eventually, the girls came back from the pool and headed for the showers. Kevin watched as quite a few of them pulled their tops and bottoms away, and even completely off in some cases, to wash underneath. Kevin was obviously incredibly horny at this point. As they all left the room and went to go dry off, Kevin figured he would just jack off and then leave. He knew it was no use trying anything with so many others around. He turned to go, but then stopped. One of the girls hadn’t left the shower room. She was just standing under the streaming water, and it looked like she was crying.

Kevin’s horniness subsided a little, not because of the girl’s looks, (she was beautiful), but because of the pain she was clearly in. He approached her cautiously. She looked vaguely familiar, but Kevin couldn’t seem to put a name to her face. By this time, all the other girls had gone off to class so Kevin just came right out and asked,

“What’s wrong?” She wasn’t as surprised as she could’ve been because of the sound of the water, but she was still startled.

“Who said that?” she asked, looking in his direction.

“Don’t worry about that,” Kevin answered, “Just tell me what happened. I’ll listen.” This seemed to make her more at ease. She turned off the water and folded her arms across her chest shyly.

“Well,” she began uncertainly, “It’s just that some of the other girls were teasing me because my… my chest isn’t as big as theirs, and it really upset me.” Kevin’s heart completely went out to her. After a moment, Kevin knew just what to say.

“Listen to me,” he told her, “Those other girls are jealous, because they know that they’ll never be as pretty as you are.” She looked in Kevin’s direction with hope in her eyes.

“Serious?” she asked, wiping her face.

“Dead serious,” he said, and truly meant it. The girl was overcome with emotion. It was beautiful to see. She reached in the direction of Kevin’s face, and found his mouth. She didn’t pull back. Instead, she surprised him by kissing him softly on the lips. When she retreated, Kevin saw she seemed to be considering something. Finally she said,

“You… you can have me, if you want.” Right after she said so, she reached down and moved aside the part of her suit that had been covering her crotch, causing Kevin to start to harden again. He was even more surprised by this gesture. Kevin had never felt so sincerely excited before.

“Are you… are you sure? You can’t even see me.”

“I know, but… I heard what you said, and… and that’s all I need.” Without further hesitation, Kevin took the girl’s other hand, and put it on his growing penis, making her gasp. She stroked him a few times to get a sense of how big he was, then pulled him towards her opening. He pushed into her and felt her break. She cringed a little and he asked if she was okay. She nodded. Kevin decided to be bold, and lifted her right off her feet. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.

“Take me,” she whispered to him. Kevin was overwhelmed. It was different with this girl. With Miss McDougal it was lust. With this girl, it felt like love. He pushed as deeply as he could into her. It was beautiful the way they connected so well. Her vagina hugged his penis so tightly; similar to the way she was embracing him. Kevin went on thrusting, in and out of this wonderful girl. He had been a virgin too, and he couldn’t think of a better situation than this one to lose his virginity in. He was nearing his climax and it sounded as if she was too. After a few more deep thrusts, they came perfectly at the same time. Kevin opened his eyes and saw how beautiful she looked as she came down from her orgasm, it was the most wonderful sight he’d ever seen. He couldn’t resist kissing her then, and she gladly kissed back. After a few seconds, Kevin asked,

“What’s your name?”

“Denise,” she answered, between breaths, “Denise Harrison.”

“D and H,” Kevin said before even realizing what he was saying.

“What?”

“Never mind,” he answered. “I have to go, but I’ll find you again, Denise.”

“What’s your name?”

“Kevin,” he said as he raced out of the locker room, pulling on his clothes as he went. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to escape. Maybe he thought he would burst with excitement if he didn’t. Denise was a dream come true, and he would find her at the end of the day, without the cap on. That thought reminded him. He pulled the cap off as he turned a corner and stuffed it into his backpack. He rushed into Miss McDougal’s class, twenty minutes into the lesson.

“Kevin, you’re late,” Miss McDougal said as he hurried over to his seat.

“Sorry, Sondra,” he said purposely, as he went by.

“What did you say?”

“I said ‘Sorry, ma’am’.” His teacher gave him a funny look. Then realization wiped the look away.

“Oh my God,” she uttered, putting her hand on her cheek. A curious murmur swept over the class. Kevin just smiled innocently.

After school, Kevin found Denise and started following her home. When they were alone, he caught up to her.

“Denise,” he called out. She turned around, looking more beautiful than ever. Kevin wondered if he had something to do with that.

“Yes?”

“I… I wanted to talk to you,” Kevin said awkwardly. How was he going to tell her?

“Okay,” she said, somewhat confused. Kevin looked down, trying to think. Then the words came back to him. He looked up and said,

“Those other girls… are jealous, because they know that they’ll never be as pretty as you are.”

Denise stood frozen for a moment. She tried to speak. Tears started running down her face. She rushed towards Kevin and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Kevin hugged her back, with all his heart. When she pulled out of the hug, Denise looked at Kevin, finally able to really see him.

“Hi,” she said, with a big smile.

“Hi,” he answered back. He put his arm around her, and they walked on together.



The Invisible Man



No connection to any persons or companies by the same, or similar, names is intended. This is totally a work of fiction.

Note: The idea for the invisible man was "borrowed" from Frederick Forsyth's book, "The Day of the Jackal". Only the concept has been borrowed, no direct quotation has been used.

*

The office was quiet. George liked it that way. George was a late middle aged man of slight build and very meek appearance behind his thick glasses. His office was very small and was inhabited, it seemed, by mountains of paper in the forms of reports and books, all sorts of books. George didn't like to socialize much. He was considered "more than a little bit odd" by most of the other employees. None of the regular workers in the company even knew if he was married, in fact most of them couldn't care less about knowing anything about George. He seemed to all but live in the office. 

Every now and then, George would be out for up to several weeks at a time. Upper management indicated that George had some health problems, but that he was such a long term and dedicated employee and held such a large amount of stock in the company that special rules applied to him. Since nobody ever bother to think about George, there was never any real risk of someone dropping by his apartment to check on him. George liked it this way.

The firm George worked for, Specialized Services, Corp., supplied private auditing and investigation services for the federal government. Most of the investigations involved checking out accounting irregularities in government agencies. As with anything run by any government there were always accounting irregularities, The agencies that they most often had to check were intelligence agencies like the CIA, DEA, Postal Inspectors, Secret Service or FBI.. Because of that, all of the employees of the firm had at lest top secret clearances and most of the employees at the firm were either lawyers or accountants; and most of the accountants were highly specialized CPAs. George wasn't a CPA. In fact, he was neither a lawyer nor an accountant. His front was that he did some specialized legal work for the firm, the reality was that he just did specialized work that the government couldn't touch. None of his work produced reports. None of his work showed up as line item income. In fact, a careful study of his job description would show that George appeared to be a glorified "editor and proof reader" for everyone else's work. 

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

Muhammet Al Gazzi was an undersecretary in his country's diplomatic mission to the U.N. Al Gazzi was not a good Muslim in truth. He enjoyed the use of certain "recreational drugs". He also enjoyed the pleasure he got from some of the women in New York after he used GHB to make them more willing to party. He had, after all, diplomatic immunity. Nobody outside his own diplomatic mission could discipline him. Neither the local police nor U.S. Federal agents could touch him.

This Monday, Muhammet was feeling especially good. He had enjoyed a night with three beautiful women who would remember nothing in the morning. In all cases they would have been put into a specific taxi to take them to the address shown on their driver's licenses. The driver would be told that they had consumed way too much alcohol and needed to sleep it off. The driver was given large tips to cover his having to get the women out of the car and into the lobby of their respective buildings. Muhammet had worked out a deal with this driver, Ozzie, an expatriate of the country which Muhammet represented. Ozzie was an illegal immigrant who drove for one of the local cab companies. Muhammet would bring the girls to Ozzie, and Ozzie would take them home. Since the women were never of his race he didn't feel any guilt about what he was doing. Ozzie would be richer by $1,000 per woman for his silent delivery services. If asked by officials he would indicate that he had been called to make a pickup just off fifth avenue, near Central Park. The lighting in the specific area wasn't the best and the man who had called for the cab wore a wide brimmed hat that left much of his face in shadow. It wasn't the normal way cabs worked, but it wasn't impossible to believe the story either. After all, city residents don't always follow the rules when money is to be made.

Ozzie was always paid in crisp new one hundred dollar bills. Ozzie didn't know that the bills were printed in the Middle East as a form of economic warfare against the United States. 

The only minor dark cloud to spoil Muhammet's enjoyment was that one of the last three women had obviously had a much stronger reaction to the drug than the other two. She wasn't looking all that good when he had her picked up by the cab. Ah, well, that was not his concern now, was it?

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

It was mid afternoon and Under Secretary Bill Hodges was busy in his office at the State Department headquarters, in Washington, when the call came in. His secretary broke into a briefing session with a White House minion to get him on the phone. That was unusual! So was the call!

"Bill Hodges."

"Mr. Hodges, I'm sergeant Richardson of the New York City Police department. I apologize for interrupting you, but there was no way to avoid it. Do you have a sister who lives in New York?"

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"Can you tell me the street address?"

"No, I don't give that type of information over the phone to people I don't know."

"O.K. let me ask it this way then, does she have a tattoo on the inside of her left ankle that reads 'I love Bill'?"

There was silence for a moment. "Yes she does. What is going on? Has there been an accident? Is she all right?"

"No, Mr. Hodges she isn't all right. It is my understanding that your sister and you were the last remaining members of your family. Is that true?"

Bill had a sinking feeling. He had immediately picked up on the past tense of the word "were".

"Yes, we are the last members of our family. What is going on?"

"Mr. Hodges, your sister died last night under very unusual circumstances. Can you come up to the city to help us with some details?"

"I can be there at La Guardia in an hour and a half. Can you have someone meet me?"

"I'll be there, sir."

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

Bill went to his boss, the secretary of state and asked a favor. It was granted, and within the half hour Bill was strapped into a Marine helicopter headed for New York. To make it legal, he had to visit the American U.N. ambassador before he flew back.

Two hours later Bill was sitting in a small conference room with New York City police, the City's chief medical examiner, and two men from the FBI.

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

The meeting was relatively short. The police indicated that when they figured out who the dead woman was they did a rush job to get the City's medical examiner to do an autopsy, and to get a local university genetics lab do a rush DNA test. That test wasn't going to give extremely accurate results, but it was fast. They sidestepped all the normal rules and did a toxicological scan, using a gas chromatograph, and had identified the presence of one of the more potent date rape drugs. The woman's blood alcohol level was down at 0.015%, well within a reasonable range. No other drugs were present. The coroner then spoke up:

"I'm terribly sorry for your loss Mr. Hodges, but I need to give you some other details. It would appear that your sister was given an extremely heavy dose of GHB. At such levels there is a greatly elevated chance of developing a severe heart arrhythmia. That appears to be the mechanism of death. Your sister was also sexually assaulted. This is the fifth woman to die in the last year and a half as a result of date rape by the same perpetrator. Unfortunately, the killer is outside our ability to provide justice. He has diplomatic immunity! We are 100% sure that we know exactly who this killer is. One of our detectives managed to steal a glass he had used at a bar on 34th street. The DNA on the glass has matched the DNA found in all the dead girls. Our government doesn't have diplomatic relations with his country. Since he is part of the UN staff, and will be backed up by his country as well as the UN bureaucracy, our hands are tied. Do you have any suggestions on how we could provide justice in this case?"

Bill sat there stunned. He knew all about diplomatic immunity. There was no legal way to provide justice in this case. Expelling a man who was officially part of the UN, since American legal enforcement at the UN was all but impossible, was out of the question. 

"I don't know of any normal approach to remove this man since his diplomatic credentials are to the UN. Since the new General Secretary at the UN is from Sudan I can see no possible way to have the diplomat in question arrested, or for that matter even have him expelled. Give me all the details that you can and I will talk to some other agencies to see if there is anything we can do."

The meeting adjourned and Bill had the American UN Ambassador send over a car to pick him up. He had to get his mind under control before he could do anything reasonable. 

He and the Ambassador spent most of the evening discussing the situation. Just before going back to La Guardia Bill asked the Ambassador to send him one or two photographs of both sides of blank security passes used at the UN as well as a real set of the passes. One of the Ambassador's staff would be told to quietly take a month long vacation in the U.S. Virgin Islands, to be paid for by the Department of State. His documents would be borrowed for that time period.

Bill spent most of the flight back to Washington, DC thinking about what could be done to provide justice.

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

The President of the United States was an old school friend of Bills. They had gone through college together and had each been the best man at the other's wedding. When Bill got home he found a phone message waiting for him. The message included a special telephone number that he was to dial on his STU (Secure Telephone Unit) when he got in.

Bill dialed the number. The phone was answered by a crisp male voice, indicating that he had contacted the White House Communications center. Not the normal switchboard, the one in the underground command post. 

"This is Undersecretary Bill Clark. I had a message to call this number when I got home."

"Hold on, Sir, I'm transferring you to the President now."

Moments late a somewhat sleepy voice came onto the line. "Hi, Bill, I'm terribly sorry to hear about your sister. Director Gibbs over at the FBI filled me in on the situation. Can I help you in any way?"

"I'm not sure Mr. President."

"Cut the Mr. President Bill, you know that it isn't called for in private discussions."

"O.K. Fred, I have been thinking about the situation and can not think of any legal way to bring this man to justice. Do you have any ideas?"

"Yeah Bill, I do. Be at the White House tomorrow at seven a.m. and we'll unofficially discuss it."

"I'll be there Mr. Pres...oops, Fred."

There was just a hint of a chuckle on the far end of the line. "I'll see you in five hours Bill. Sleep as well as you can."

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

It was six forty a.m. when Bill entered the White House. He was surprised to see that the President was already in his office. "Let's go out into the rose garden Bill."

The President led Bill out into a remote part of the rose garden and said, "There aren't any microphones out here. We can talk quietly without fear of being recorded. If we stay exactly where we are nobody can make a video of our mouths to have a lip reader decipher what is being discussed. I know you are familiar with the prohibition against the use of assassination that the Democratic congress enacted and President Johnson signed into law many years ago. It prohibits the U.S government from assassinating very bad people. As you know, and this is very far off the record, we occasionally have had to break that law to save the American people great harm at the hands of madmen. What you don't know, and will not learn the details of, is that the U.S. government has a non-governmental agency to take care of our "wet work". I am going to have some highly unofficial justice applied regarding the murder of your sister. You remember that I dated her for a while. She was a wonderful and kind person. I'm going to ask you for some very unofficial information that I will need. Can you help me?"

"Yes Fred, I can. In fact I have already had our UN Ambassador take photographs of both sides of blank UN security passes and badges. The Ambassador is also loaning me an actual set of the passes for the next three weeks or so. I expect them in my office this afternoon. What else can I provide?"

"You have already anticipated what I was going to ask for. Please get them to me when they come in. I'm going to have some documents experts look them over. Bill, I want no action at all that would let Muhammet's delegation believe that anything was unusual at all; is that understood?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Again, Bill I am very sorry for your loss, and my loss in this."

"Thank you Mr. President."

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

Sergeant Richardson was highly confused by the directive he had just received. No further surveillance of Muhammet was to be done. In fact, if Muhammet was seen in an area, the police were to "look the other way and avoid any and all contact with him". Very strange! After all, he was known to have been behind the deaths of several American women. He thought, "Some bureaucrat must have some burr up his ass and is so uncomfortable that he can't think!". The Sergeant shook his head and got back to the large mountain of cases that he had to handle.

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

Muhammet was pleased. There were no comments in the paper about the women he had used the other night. No news is good news. He was an avid reader of the New York Times. As he thought of the papers motto "all the news that's fit to print" he chuckled at the modification that was so much more accurate "all the news that fits, we print". The paper's editorial bias was legendary. The editors, in their own way, were as doctrinaire in their beliefs as the Mullas back home.

Muhammet thought he would wait until the next weekend before going out for fun and games again. There were plenty of girls to play with. No need to gather too many in a short period of time and raise suspicions. Yes, a week from this next Friday night would be a good night. Since Friday was the Jewish Shabbat he was less likely to pick up an attractive Jewish girl. After all, bigotry against anything Jewish was as much a part of his culture as was their stated belief in the accuracy of the Koran. He smiled at that, since he wasn't really a believer at all. Like many other diplomats to the West he was first and foremost a pragmatist. His motto was: "If it works, don't mess with it; if it doesn't work, pay it lip service to it and then do what works."

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

On the next Friday night that Muhammet went out girl hunting, he was at one of his favorite eating establishment in lower Manhattan. Muhammet had finished a wonderful dinner and was now at the bar, making small talk with the other patrons. A new arrival came into the room and moved over to the bar near Muhammet. In broken English, with a heavy middle eastern accent, the man asked for a Rusty Nail. Muhammet was intrigued. He didn't know this man, but the man's accent sounded like the accent of his native country. On a hunch, he told the bartender to add the Rusty Nail to his tab. The new arrival turned to him and gave an appreciative bow. He thanked Muhammet in his own language, flawlessly and using the classical style of construction that only the very educated would use.

"Would you join me?", Muhammet asked in his native language; making sure to use the same perfect construction that the newcomer had used. The new man came over. He was a smallish man with a gray beard and steel rimmed glasses. His skin had a walnut hue and appeared to be weathered and sun baked. 

"My name is Ishmael, I thank you for your kindness. I hadn't expected to meet another man from my part of the world. Would you tell me your name so that I might better thank you?"

"My name is Muhammet. I work over at the U.N. I come here often but have never seen you before, what brings you here tonight."

"I am a scientist working on developing our country's natural resources. Some new finds have been made about which our delegation must be informed. Since I can answer any of their questions I was sent to do the job."

"I work for that delegation as under-ambassador. I have heard of no special envoys being sent. Is your report so new and secret that it has to be kept very quiet?"

"Yes, it is and it must be kept very, very quiet. Here is my identification." At that, Ishmael took out his identification badge and passes. They were relatively new but obviously had seen some wear and tear. The pass indicated that Ishmael's specialty was in geo-physics. 

Muhammet took out his badge and pass to show Ishmael. Having assured each other that they were indeed who they said they were, Muhammet asked if Ishmael would share with him the nature of his report. 

"No, I can't do that here. It is too dangerous. I have been assigned a room at the Grand Madison Hotel. It is large and spacious. If you would be willing to join me there I can give you all the information that you wish to have. And, I can provide you with a modest sampling of traditional delicacies to enjoy as we talk."

"How did you get here Ishmael?" 

"I took a taxicab from the hotel. Is there a better way?"

"Yes, I'll call my limo driver and we can ride back to your hotel in style."

It was ten minutes later when the large Mercedes Benz limo pulled up in front of the restaurant. Both men got in and the limo smoothly pulled out into the traffic.

********************** The hotel suite was not too large, but was still very nice. Ishmael immediately brought out some tinned food, including a tin of the finest Beluga Caviar. Muhammet loved caviar. As Ishmael brought other "goodies" he asked Muhammet to open the Caviar. 

Muhammet was glad to do just that. He was almost overcome with the sight of this rare and exquisite delicacy. Ishmael finished his work and sat down across from Muhammet. He opened a bottle of spirits and poured a drink for each of them. 

Ishmael formally said: "To your health! Praise Allah, may his name be blessed."

Muhammet returned the toast and they both drank of the libation. Ishmael offered crackers and a small serving spoon to Muhammet. Ishmael picked up some sweetened fruit and placed it on one of the crackers.

"Aren't you going to have some of this wonderful caviar, Ishmael?"

"I beg your understanding, I can't eat caviar. I am allergic to it and would have to go to the hospital emergency room if I ate any. I brought this in case I had official company. It is here as a sign of respect to our delegation."

Muhammet nodded his head saying, "Praise Allah for His gifts; great and small."

Ishmael nodded his head and echoed the praise.

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

As they sat talking Muhammet started to Feel a bit light headed. He looked a bit dazed.

Ishmael spoke up: "Are you all right my friend? You don't look so good. Can I call someone for you?" 

Muhammet started to answer and then passed out.

Ishmael smiled, the GHB in the caviar had done its work. Caviar was the perfect thing to hide a slightly salty tasting liquid! He would have to have the contracting agency thank their sources. Having Muhammet open the caviar was critical. Muhammet would have been sure of the purity of the caviar since he was the one who broke the seal on the tin.




The Invisible Man



Ishmael now got to work.

He had two ampoules containing less than one cubic centimeter each. He also had a hypodermic syringe and a larger bottle made of very heavy plastic. It contained yet another liquid.

Ishmael moved Muhammet's body to the bed. Ishamel was much stronger than he looked. Once Muhammet was on the bed his clothes were all removed. Now, for justice!

Ishamel put on a heavy rubberized cloth apron, a face mask with air filtration, and two sets of heavy surgical gloves. It was imperative that none of the liquid get onto his skin. Doubling up on heavy surgical gloves was relatively good insurance. He very carefully opened the first ampoule and filled the glass syringe with the fluid. This fluid was carefully injected just under the skin of Muhammet's penis and scrotum. A drop or two was injected into each of Muhammet's testicles. Ishamel made sure that there was one shot within one centimeter of any other shot, on the surface skin, until the syringe was empty.

The second ampoule was now opened with even more care than the first. The syringe was again filled. This fluid was injected directly into Muhammet's bloodstream. Just for the justice of it, Ishmael used the large vein that runs down the top of the penis as the injection point.

At the completion of the work Ishamel very carefully dropped both ampoules and the syringe into the heavy plastic container. Within moments an observer would have seen the glass and metal dissolving in the liquid.

The heavy plastic container, Caviar, glasses, Ishmael's identification papers, wallet and all foods were placed in a case that looked like an overly large and sturdy attaché case, except that it had a handcuff on its handle. It was a courier's case.

Ishmael very carefully wiped down all the surfaces in the room. He had an exceedingly good memory and had been very careful what he touched and where he touched it. Ishmael picked up a small suitcase and the attaché case. Minutes later he took the elevator down to the hotel's parking garage. He walked over to a non-descript dark brown Ford van, got in and started it. 

Two and a half hours later the van pulled into the Binghamton Airport long term parking lot. The man who stepped out of the van appeared to be a late middle aged Caucasian man of slight build and very meek appearance. He wore thick glasses. He parked the van in an empty corner of the parking lot. He left the attaché case and small suitcase containing a good suit and identification papers in the back of the vehicle. Then he wiped his prints from the vehicle.

Ishmael, now George, had seen to it that the license plates had been fastened to the van with heavy magnets. Both plates, which were fake, were made of magnesium. They went in the back of the van with two devices. Each of the devices was a bit different. One contained a thermite device that would melt and burn its way through the attaché case and suit case. The second device was Willie Pete, a white phosphorus grenade. It sat between two five gallon cans of gasoline. These devices were tied to a modified cell phone purchased for this exact purpose. The first phone connected to a relay with a DTMF tone receiver in it's circuit. One fourth column DTMF tone enabled the circuit to the explosives, a second DTMF tone fired the detonators. George made sure that all of the windows of the van were at least half open. After all, he needed the fire to have all the oxygen it wanted.

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

As the plane left Binghamton for Baltimore one of the passengers surreptitiously pulled out a very special cell phone and dialed a number. First he pressed the fourth column DTMF key for "A" Then he pressed the DTMF key for "D". Moments later a fireball could be seen somewhere below and behind them. All traces of Ishmael had ceased to exist.

George was glad the he had used the thermite on the attaché case. The ampoule of antibiotic resistant flesh eating bacteria and the ampoule of the Aids virus made him uneasy. He grimly thought about how uneasy it was going to make Muhammet. After all, with the special strains he had been injected any competent doctor would realize that the penis, scrotum, and testes would all have to be amputated. It was the only way to prevent the spread of this virulent killer. It would probably be a few weeks before they found out that Muhammet was not only HIV positive but had come down with a full blown case of Aids. This could be called poetic justice.

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

The following Monday morning a tired and sickly looking George walked back into his office. He was wearing his thick glasses, that didn't really do anything. He immediately started to quietly work, just as he always had. Nobody ever really noticed George; he was such a boring and introverted guy that he might as well have been invisible.

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

Bill Hodges saw that he had an incoming call on the STU. He immediately answered it. Bill, this is Fred, we need to talk tomorrow morning, just like before and at the same time. Bill agreed and hung up.

In the Rose Garden the next morning Fred broke the news.

"Bill, your 'friend' in New York has some serious medical problems. He doesn't know that, yet. By the time he finds out two things will have to happen. He will have to loose his cock and balls, or the flesh eating bacteria will spread and slowly kill him. It will then become obvious, in the next few months, that he has a full blown case of AIDs. He will have to be sent home, and under the Mulla's rule his life expectancy is likely to be highly unpleasant and very short. Justice is being served. I am going to have the head of the New York FBI office make an off the record call on sergeant Richardson, late next month. He will tell him that we have heard that our mutual friend has been found to be very ill and will be sent home, and probably will be killed. He will also inform him that no word of that is to be passed on to anyone else and that officially the meeting with the sergeant never happened. Is that o.k. with you."

"Yes, it is, Fred. Thank you! And pass my thanks on to the person who arranged this justice."

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

George was pleased to receive a case of his favorite vintage wine. It didn't come with any fanfare. A delivery man, with a crew cut and wearing an earpiece, dropped it by his apartment late one evening saying that "the big boss is grateful for your recent help in a rather delicate matter."

George had a good nights sleep. It was good to be the invisible man.



The Invisible Man



"He is known as the Invisible Man, and your job is to make him visible to us."

We were dining in the Bel-Etage restaurant of the Sofitel Hotel in Zurich on tender roasted veal with potato pancakes, not a great distance, but several centuries in amenities, away from the north African country of Bulla Regia bordering the Mediterranean.

"But why the need for this sort of operation?" I asked. I waved away the stiff-carriage waiter who had stepped forward from the shadows and refilled Sam Winterberry's wine glass the instant it had been drained and who had then offered to top off my half-filled glass. I was taking my liquor very lightly these days. I was still having headaches. I hadn't been told why the procedure I'd undergone was necessary until just now.

"Are you all right, Guy?" Winterberry asked, his face full of concern. Winterberry always knew the proper expression to show in public. No doubt that had been part of his Agency training back in the day.

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"You winced and touched the spot. Don't worry, the occasional pain and reminder will pass in time. But you do need to be aware you are touching it and not draw attention to it in the meantime."

"Oh, sorry," I said. "I haven't had the formal classes, you know. But, again, why the need for this sort of operation, and why me? This could take years. And he's the president of the country. Surely—"

"Yes, it could take years, but we are hoping it won't," Winterberry answered the last question first. He paused to take a long swig on his wine, which drew a smile; Sam loved good wine. In fact he was reveling in the whole Sofitel experience and the looks he gave me reminded me of life with Sam Winterberry when he was on a high.

"But even if it takes years," he continued, "this is an operation that is worth it. As for why it's not a direct sanction, first, the Lieutenant is a wary one—and a thus far very successfully wary one. He moves constantly, never spends more than one night in a single location, and there is no pattern to his movements. Second, we are planning something much more subtle than a simple sanction. We want to control what follows. His nationalization of the oil companies has made quite clear that some more complex response is needed here."

There were a few moments of silence as Winterberry savored his tender veal in its own gravy and while I contemplated the target. He was known as the Lieutenant because that was what he was when he miraculously mobilized the Bulla Regia armed forces to overthrow the decadent and decaying monarchy and set the country on the path of his own personal brand of mixed socialism and dictatorship. The Western world had called him mad and had ostracized him. He, in turn, had nationalized all of the Western holdings in a country that was floating on oil and had proven himself not too mad to have survived, standing alone against the pressure of the Western world, for more than a decade now.

"And why me?" I repeated an unanswered question.

"Why you? Because you can be inserted easily. We have a position available as professor of Arabic literature for you at the national university in Altiburos, and your true credentials take you back to your Ph.D. in literature at Canada's Calgary University. It was a mere hop, skip, and jump to documenting you as a Canadian citizen. Of all the Western nations, only Canada, which had no companies operating in Bulla Regia to nationalize, is still on good terms with the government there."

Winterberry looked down at his plate and started to cut up another bite of veal. He was looking entirely too pleased with himself, though.

"Is that it? Is that the only reason?"

"Of course it's not the only reason, dear boy. I'm here; this is one of my Candy Store operations. You were chosen because the Lieutenant likes his men blond and young and submissive. And I can see his point."

The look Winterberry gave me was quite enough to tell me that my engagement calendar was booked for the night.

Sam Winterberry wasn't one of my favorite people. By far. I could have had an entirely different life if it had not been for Sam Winterberry. I had been young and idealistic and had steeped myself in Arabic literature and culture—and, unfortunately politics—in my graduate years in Calgary. I had been judged brilliant, the youngest man ever to have reached the doctorate level at the university. And I had gone to school in Canada rather than the United States because I wanted my education to be as free of prejudice as possible. That too was probably a mistake. I found myself taken up with a group of Arab students who pushed the envelope beyond the philosophical and who actually included the nucleus of a cell of terrorists biding their time and laying in wait for a plan and direction to strike a blow for Islam in the United States.

I never was drawn into this cell—although in time there might have been an offer. In my idealism, I was attracted to what they said in public. I, of course, had no idea what they were planning in private. So I floated around the periphery of this group and became close to a few of the cell members.

One of the cell members was fiery and handsome, dark, hirsute, and built like the seasoned soldier that he really was. He was older than most of the others, and clearly a leader and an initiator and risk taker. Ahmed paid considerable attention to me, at first because of our professed shared love of Arabic literature. He was a persuasive conversationalist and spoke in honey-toned poetry. And one night when I was half drunk, he pulled me down on his bed and stretched all along the length of my body, touching me closely everywhere and showing me that he wanted me by the hardness between his legs. He kissed me and fondled my body with his soft hands and whispered sweet poetry to me. And when he put his hand between my thighs and coaxed me to open for him, I did, with a sigh, despite my fears. And when he slowly pushed inside me, he covered my mouth with his and kissed away my cry of pain and shame as he unburdened me of my virginity. As the pain subsided and he began to move inside me, I moved with him, willingly, with him chanting his poetry in rhythm to the stroking of his cock inside me and to the pattern of my panting and moaning. Ahmed opened the gates of heaven to me with a flood of love that left me with no regrets and no doubts about what I was and what I wanted.

I never knew what happened to the cell, but I learned soon enough what Ahmed was. Not only was he a government plant in the cell, but he also was a recruiter for a special unit of the Agency informally called the Candy Shore, headed by none other than Sam Winterberry. On the same night I had all of my doubts about my sexuality and my preferences wiped away, I was compromised and recruited into the world of intelligence. And not just the surface world, but into one of its most closely guarded secrets—the existence of a unit that gained intelligence through sex.

And here I was, a world and three years away from my innocent exuberance in Calgary, the excellent meal now finished, nibbling on the last of the chocolate torte and superior-blend coffee.

Winterberry delicately patted his lips with a fine white linen napkin and turned a smile on me.

"Now, there are a few more details we should talk about with a bit more privacy."

I looked around the dimly lit restaurant with the widely spaced tables. I couldn't think of any place with more privacy than this. But, looking at Winterberry's smile, I guess I could.

"Shall we adjourn to my hotel room?" Winterberry asked. But I knew it wasn't a question.

When we were in his room, three flights up in the hotel, he turned and, in a matter-of-fact voice said, "Now, sweet Guy, would you please disrobe and sit on the edge of the bed over there."

I sucked his cock as he stood before me at the bed and gave him what he wanted. But I kept it on an edge, where he knew it was all mechanical, that I didn't really want him. And I tried to maintain the same tone when he spread my legs and held them out under his arms and thrust inside me. But as he began to pump and thicken and mined ever more deeply in my channel, my instincts gave way and I began to move my hips with him and to pant and moan, and his heavy breathing and groans had a synergistic effect on me. And soon we were fucking in earnest, me wanting it as much as he did. Maybe more. I couldn't help myself. I loved a man's cock churning inside me.

But Sam Winterberry is a cruel lover, and he had noted how hard I'd tried to stay mechanical with him. And he knew what I was, what I was unable to stay away from. As I was about to ejaculate, he pulled out of me and held me tight, not letting me go over the edge.

"Please, Sam," I panted.

"Please what, Guy?"

"Please, oh please."

"Say it, Guy."

I gritted my teeth. "Please, Sam, please finish me. Fuck me. Ahhhhhh." He slid deep inside me again and began to pump, once again showing me who was boss.

I came and he moved as to pull out of me, roll off his condom, and ejaculate on my belly, but I cried out, "No, please. Inside me, please."

And, with a shudder of pleasure, he continued pumping until he had filled the bulb of his condom deep inside me. I knew that I had pleased him—once again.

There being no better time than that moment, as we were both calming our breath, I said. "My parents are both dead, Sam. Did you know that?"

"No, I did not," he warily answered.

"And it's been a long time since that business with the terrorist cell in Calgary. And anything coming out of that now would be pretty fuzzy, you know—especially with what I might have to say about what transpired afterward if push came to shove."

"What are you saying, Guy?" Winterberry asked in a low, nervous voice.

"I'm saying that I'll do this operation for you, but when it's over—if it's successfully concluded—I want to ask a favor of you that you will pledge now to honor."

There was a slight pause, but then Winterberry answered wearily, "If you must."

At that moment, I think we both knew what my request would be. I had done quite enough for the nation.

* * * *

"Have you seen the Roman ruins on the cliffs of Albia yet, professor?"

It had been asked innocently enough, but I hoped it meant some progress was being made. I'd been teaching Arabic literature at the national university in Bulla Regia's capital city of Altiburos for some four months now, and as hard as I was trying, progress had seemed to be slow.

When Winterberry had briefed me, he had given me a list of names of young men students at the university who both would be interested in what I had to offer—beyond the instruction in Arabic literature—and who could give me a natural entrée to the ultraprivate Foxes Den club near the government officials' residential enclave, the very secret place where the well-heeled and powerful men of Bulla Regia went to meet other men. The ultimate target here was the army marshal General Iken ibn Tariq, who was considered to be as closely associated with the Lieutenant, Mezian al-Masmud, as anyone in Bella Regia could be.

Yunes ibn Afalku, one of the pampered sons of the ruling class, which still managed to rule society despite the Lieutenant's so-called socialist revolution, was one of the students in my Arabic literature class. He also was on my list of intermediary targets. He was maybe four years younger than I was, one of the older students. He had already served his army duty and was in extremely fit shape. He was a national-level bodybuilder, narcissistic to an extreme degree, and thus, of course, a name on my list. And he dabbled in Arabic literature. He wasn't a full-time university student; he had just signed up for my class because he had accompanied his younger brother to orientation and had talked with me over a punchbowl.

I knew from the outset he was interested in me, and he was the main mark I was working on. But it took me four months to prime him to ask me this question.

"No, Yunes. I haven't seen the ruins. I would love to, though. I just haven't had the chance to go outside the city. Visitors like me are fairly closely watched here."

"No one I'm with is watched," Yunes said. "And I have a van. I'd be pleased to show you the Roman site."

The mention of the van was not lost on me, although I assumed Yunes thought he was being clever. I'd seen Yunes drive onto campus. He drove a Mercedes sports coupe.

I was not surprised to find that the van had no windows in the back. Yunes drove it up to the edge of a cliff, within the outer reaches of the perimeter of a small, ancient Roman city colony that hadn't really had time to blossom before the local, highly warlike tribal bands had wiped it out. More of the old city ruins lay at the base of the cliff, where there had once been a small harbor reaching out into the Mediterranean. From up here, looking out of the front windshield of the van, I could see the tops of the crumbled stone of the protecting wings of the manmade harbor quay under the surface of the water. A light rain squall was going through, and Yunes suggested we wait in the van until it passed.

I toyed with the idea briefly that Yunes represented such ingrained power in Bulla Regia society that he could conjure up a convenient rain squall on demand.

"Are you enjoying the Arabic literature class, Yunes?" I asked.

"Yes, very much so, professor. But tell me, do you not read the books of Ali Ghanem, Albert Cossery, and Rachid Boudjedra? Why have you not included their books in the course?"

There it was, the opening, checking me out. All three of these Arabic-theme authors wrote homoerotica.

"Yes, I have read Ghanem's Seven-Headed Serpent and Cossery's Proud Beggars and Boudjedra's The Great Repudiation."

"And enjoyed them?"

"Yes, yes, of course, I found such literature very . . . compelling."

Yunes turned his torso toward me and, seemingly inadvertently, put a hand on my knee.

"But then why not include these in your course?"

I put my hand on top of his and slid them both up my thigh and onto my basket. Yunes took in a deep breath.

"Do you really think the authorities would permit me to teach those authors, Yunes? But haven't you noticed that I do include Naguib Mahfouz's Midaq Alley and Sugar Street in the curriculum. He is just too famous for the authorities to censure. Haven't you read those? There are passages in those that remind me of you when I read them."

"You find me attractive, professor?"

"Yes, very much so," I answered. "Can't you feel that through your hand?" And, indeed, I had managed to harden up for him nicely. "I have watched you in class. I think you must be a very powerful, forceful man. But you have seemed a bit shy. I would have thought you a man who saw what he wanted and took it."

I knew of no quicker way to spur an Arabic man to action. And it worked a charm.

I sucked Yunes's cock with him turned to me in the driver's seat and kneeling in the seat and me leaning over him and raising and lowering my mouth on his erect tool while he moaned and controlled my head with hands buried in my hair. For a brief moment I worried that a hand would stray to the nape of my neck, but it did not do so—and even if it had, I'm sure he was too preoccupied with my expert blow job to find anything amiss.

After he had come, we moved to the back of the van, which he had prepared with thick oriental carpeting, and we stripped and he laid me on my back and covered my body with caresses and kisses and paid considerable attention to my cock, balls, and hole while he regained his youthful virility. I thrilled at the feel of the firmness of his cut muscles, and I ran my trembling hands over his chest and torso and arched my back and gave a welcoming roar of genuine delight as he spread my legs, wedged his knees under my butt cheeks, thrust himself deep inside me, and began to pump hard.

We met frequently in my apartment thereafter for about a month until I was sure he was besotted and would do whatever I wanted him to.

"Have you heard of the Fox Den club?" I asked one afternoon as I lay inside his embrace, my back to his front, and his cock churning slowly and deeply inside me.

"Yes," he answered with a grunt.

"I think I would like to go there. Do you happen to know anyone who can get us in?"

"Yes," he answered. "I can; I'm a member."

I, of course, already knew that.

On the third visit to the club, my next target, General Iken ibn Tariq, made his move. He had been there during our previous two visits too, but during the first visit he and I had only exchanged meaningful looks across a dimly lit room. During the second visit, he invited us to his table, where he sat, with two bulky bodyguards standing at attention behind him.

Yunes had not been pleased at the invitation to the general's table, and this was probably the touchiest part of my assignment, where I had to continue to please Yunes while beguiling the general. Somehow I managed.

While we were chatting and the general was, rather professionally, interrogating me with a friendly smile on exactly who I was and ever had been and what I was doing in his country, I asked him if he was a reader of Arabic literature.

"No, my reading is other worldly, Professor Breeden," he answered. "Have you perhaps heard of Henry Spenser Ashbee or Ulrike Heider or Trevor Jacques?"

I could tell that Yunes was out of the "know" here and, thankfully, saw that his attention was drawn to the sex scene going on on the stage, a quite tall and bulky Bulgarian stuffing himself into a small Nubian in a particularly flexible position.

"Yes, yes, I've heard of those authors." I said, willing myself to blush and lowering my eyes. All wrote on S&M homoerotica, mostly from the nonfiction stance. I wasn't either surprised or shocked. I'd been briefed on the good general's proclivities.

"And?" the general said, looking at me intently and squeezing my knee under the table.

"And . . . I have never, but . . ."

"But?" he pressed on.

"But I do find it . . . interesting."

"And arousing?" he asked.

"Yes, a bit. Enticing, certainly. But, of course, this in Bulla Regia. It's not something to really even consider here, is it?" At this statement, I raised my face with as much drama as I could and looked directly into his eyes. His hand had gone up my thigh, and I had willed myself hard for him.

"And how do you find me, professor?"

"Fascinating and dangerous," I responded, and I looked him directly in the eyes when I said it.

"And it does not shock you that I read Ashbee and Heider and Jacques?"

"No."

"You do not fear the light lash, the binding? Being completely at the mercy of another?"

"I don't know, to be honest. It rather excites me."

At that point Yunes had turned his attention back to us and General Tariq had withdrawn his hand. Not long afterward Yunes said he was bored, we said our good-byes, and he took me back to my apartment and fucked me in the inventive position he had watched the Bulgarian use to take the Nubian in the club. Yunes cocked well. I was somewhat sad to move on from him.

On the third visit, the general once more invited us to his table, an invitation Yunes could not decline, as the general trumped his family for the moment in the national power positioning.

And Yunes made the mistake of needing to go take a piss.

I made my move. "About those authors you mentioned last week, General."

"Yes."

"I've been reading them. Some of the milder things they talk about."

"Yes?"

"Well, those seem very interesting. Very . . . arousing."

The general was smiling broadly. "Would you like to see my new villa by the sea?"

"Yes, that would be nice. Perhaps we could set up a time."

"Now," the general said. His breathing told me that he was, indeed, very interested in a visit now.




The Invisible Man and His "Angel"



Another reoccurring dream. This one actually was very perturbing until recently... when I met my 'Angel'.

I kept having the dream of me going on dates with some pretty good looking dames, but being very shy....I'd take them home and on the way home I'd turn invisible, but this was a temporary state that would last, but thirty minutes. At first not being comfortable with this state I'd double back sneak into their rooms and ogle as they got undressed. I was actually getting an eyeful...tits of all sizes...and then they'd take off their panties and watch some masturbate and watch others wash in the shower.

Soon just before I started feeling that I was getting visible, I'd scoot and return home with an erection, which I quickly relieved. As the dreams kept repeating, I got more brazen it seems...for now when I returned to my earlier date I would feel her boobs, suck them, nibble on them, gently bite them and sometimes kissed them on the lips or between their legs. Sometimes I'd run into the shower with them and place two fingers in them and ogle as eventually they'd get out and made themselves climax.

Later yet...I actually tried to explain this to my dates that I'd be back. They didn't believe me of course, but when I went back after the date and after the girl showered I'd sneak between her legs and lock my lips on her snatch and commence to lick, suck, nibble on her clit. They'd be calling out my name in ten to fifteen minutes and they'd come and soon again for the second time, but this time with so much force that their whole body would shake. This usually was my clue to leave...leaving them satisfied and me waking up sweating with an erection that I could spin on like a top.

The last dream I had before meeting this 'Angel' was with this girl I'll call Sue. Sue had straight shoulder-length black hair. Very compact body with small breasts, 36B I think, and a very shapely round butt. We went to dinner, I had Chicken Parmigiana and she had Veal Scaloppini. We ate quietly, made some small talk and went to a movie....a chick flick I think, but soon we started making out so I don't really remember. After a short while I placed my hand on her right breast, which felt very firm to the touch, and did it feel good. I felt the nipple get hard under my gentle, but firm massage....my little soldier got hard so I put her hand on him....and thought I'd come right there as she started to rub him through the clothes. We got up and quickly left the movies....I don't even remember the plot except for all the love scenes....a typical boy meets girl, loses girl and gets her back again, I did notice more flesh than most other movies of this nature.

We walked briskly to my car, drove her home as she played with my raging erection. At her house she mentioned that she was sorry, and that her roommates are home and that she was very sorry, but we'll need to continue at another time. I then mentioned about my ability to turn invisible for thirty minutes and that she should leave the door open. She said yeah get real, but when I came back invisible I found the door to be unlocked. I walked in, saw her two homely roommates watching TV downstairs...I ran up to Sue's room and saw her completely undressed and caressing her breasts with one hand and had three fingers in her love tunnel. I felt this to be my cue, and got between her legs and grabbed a hold of her clit and nibbled and bit her joy button...and she called out my name as she wrapped her legs around my head, actually crushing my ears, as I felt her body shake violently. Not stopping, I continued slurping and tonguing her until she came for what seemed like an eternity. I quickly got up and I was about to leave, when she said, in the most lovely voice, I owe you and I'll make it so wonderful that you'll never forget it.

Shortly there after, I was having a cup of coffee in a local diner and noticed that my waitress was named Sue. I didn't think much of it, but then It started to feel eerie. In fact she looked exactly like the Sue I dreamt about and whom I helped achieve two orgasms. She came by and said that she seemed to know me from somewhere. I looked at her and she gave me a knowing smile and told me that she wanted to thank me for something. She gave me the check and a small note, it said "I owe you" and to meet her at seven PM tonight, at the diner. I thought this to be crazy, but had to see it through. The sun was just starting to go down, as I left my house to meet her at the diner. Sue was now wearing a halter top and a short skirt. She told me that she made reservations for dinner at the local hotel, where we won't be disturbed, and that we can have dinner there as well. I agreed and couldn't even remember the meal, I think we each had a salad, and a glass of wine. She was quiet, but always smiling. Finally, she looked me right in the eye and asked: "do you know what this is all about?" I told her that I didn't have a clue. To this she mentioned that she had this dream about this date, and after which he was able to turn invisible, returned and helped her achieve two of the greatest orgasms ever, and that she believes that I was he and that she wanted to repay the favor. I just nodded with disbelief, after all I was dreaming and so was she and what was the probability of us sharing the very same dream. I was about to find out, for Sue turned out was my 'Angel'.

We went up to our room and she asked me to take off all my clothes and to be prepared to enjoy being a man for I will be pampered with TLC and that she wanted to thank me properly. She too got undressed...seemed like a miracle her breasts were exactly as I imagined.....her triangle-of-love was clean-shaven with a strip of black hair over the crack. She led me to the bathroom and kissed me gently and then with more urgency. I felt I was dreaming...this Sue was gorgeous. She drew me a warm bath and got in with me and commenced to wash me much more thoroughly than I'd ever imagine. I too washed her, especially her boobs buns and her canal. I had two fingers in her...she felt silky and warm. I fingered her for awhile and she stopped me by saying that I was to enjoy first...and there will be time for that later. We dried each other....and she had me lay down on my stomach. She then commenced to massage and baby kiss me from my neck to my butt. Sue then got my legs open and she gently fingered my bunghole and kissed it and inserted her tongue....I got so hard at once and nearly came, what a great feeling..she quickly stopped and continued baby kissing my butt and down and up on the back of both my legs. she gently turned me over and admired my raging erection...kissed it and started to massage and baby kissing my chest and teasing and nibbling on my nipples. She circled the belly button and went down and up the front of both of my legs. Now she excused herself and returned with a glass of water.....she gulped a little and took me into her mouth....wow in her mouth was very warm water...she expertly swished around me and then spit out and did this a few more times. I was in heaven. she then took a plastic necklace about six inches long and lubricated it and shoved it up my bunghole with about a half an inch sticking out, and told me to relax .

This was kind of difficult with my raging erection. Sue got on her knees and I felt her wet love canal and inserted two fingers. She now took each of my balls in her mouth while gently stroking my shaft. After feeling them to be getting hard she toyed with the head of my organ and sucked on the eye and took a quarter of the length in her mouth, than half and than had it in her mouth as I felt myself hitting her tonsils. She started getting a rhythm going up and down as I inserted three fingers into her snatch and she felt to be very wet. She was literally moving in and out over my fingers while speeding up her bobbing movement on my shaft...Sue felt my precum...hungrily lapped it up and started going up and down faster yet, I soon started feeling that I was about to come, she exploded all over my fingers and when she felt my first spurt, grabbed the pearls and started to pull them from my anus, it seemed that with every pearl another squirt, she swallowed every drop.....by the time the pearl was all out I collapsed in ecstasy, and I was literally sucked dry.

Later we had some more routine sexual adventures, but this definitely was a night for me to remember. Was it a dream or was it real?...only my 'Angel' and I will ever know.



The Invisible (Young) Man



This story is classified in the science fiction section so, yes, it is not at all realistic. If a story that is pure science fiction is unappealing to you, you should not read this story as you will be very disappointed. Invisibility is, of course, not feasible (the rationale and mechanisms for the invisibility in the current story was obtained through The Invisible Man and subsequently related publications). All of the persons depicted in this story, each of the men and women, are at least eighteen years old. I again thank StoryPal for his very, very helpful editing and suggestions.

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Griffin was an undergraduate student at Livingston College. He worked for Dr. Kemp, a physics professor who studied optical densities. Optical density is an expression of the transmittance of an optical element for a given wavelength. The higher the optical density, the lower the transmittance. There were many interesting things you could do with the manipulation of optical densities. Dr. Kemp was experimenting with a transfiguration that would alter the refractive index of light reflecting from organic matter, thus ensuring that light would not bend when passing through, thereby making the cloaked organism effectively invisible.

It was quite the discovery, to say the least. Dr. Kemp, however, could not, of course, claim full credit. Drs. Graeme Milton at Utah University and Nicolae Alexandru Nicorovici at Sydney University of Technology had conducted the most significant preliminary studies. They developed a cloaking device that relied on recently discovered materials used to make super lenses that make light behave in a highly unusual way. Instead of having a positive refractive index, the property which makes light bend as it passes through a prism or water, the materials have a negative refractive index, which effectively makes light travel backwards. When objects are placed behind these super lenses, the light bouncing off them is essentially erased by light reflecting off the lenses, making the object invisible.

Sir John Pendry, a theoretical physicist at Imperial College of London who invented super lenses, said, "Effectively, they are making a piece of space seem to disappear, at least as far as light is concerned."

The key contribution of Dr. Kemp was to produce the lens in a liquid form that adhered and affected only organic matter, thus being able to effectively cloak an organism. He began with the cloaking of small organisms, including the proverbial laboratory mouse, a rhesus monkey, a dog, and even a bird. The cloaking of a parakeet had been a little problematic, as it escaped the cage. He and his assistants were a little concerned about being able to catch the canary, until droppings began to fall out of thin air. Any fluids released by the organism would not themselves be invisible, as they were no longer within the boundaries of the cloak.

There was one limitation though with its application to organisms. As the Russian physicist Dr. Yakov I. Perelman had demonstrated, a person made invisible by Dr. Kemp's method would also be blind, since a human eye works by absorbing incoming light. If the light was refracted, no information would reach the retina.

It was not, however, in insurmountable problem. One would just not coat the corneas, a procedure that had never actually worked that well anyway. The lab animals really didn't seem to like the ointment on their eyes. So, one could just coat the eyelids. If one's eyes were closed, one was invisible. If one opened one's eyes, all that could be seen were two eyes, seeming to float in the air.

Of course, two floating eyes would attract a bit of attention. However, this wasn't a serious problem. The simplest solution was to just place your fingers before your eyes and peek out in between the very small slits of mostly closed fingers. The cloaking would then wrap around the entire body, revealing the refracted light that was behind the body, rather than just behind the fingers. Children often play peek-a-boo this way, feeling like you can't see them when they're covering their eyes with their hands. Well, in this case it was really true. Another person could only barely detect your eyes through your slightly spread fingers, but you could still see quite a bit. It was like having a mobile peep hole, allowing you to peek into (or actually within) any room one wanted. And, if one found that to be too cumbersome or restrictive, one could also hide behind hanging curtains, garments, towels, blankets, or anything else that was sufficiently diaphanous, the only risk being if one's eyes were evident behind the material.

Another difficulty was that the ointment, when wet, was readily removed by rubbing against an object, exposing part of the body and in turn turning that which one was bumping or rubbing against invisible (as long as it was organic material).

However, this was eventually resolved by revising the formula so that it would maintain its effectiveness upon drying, effectively then sealing the body in a resilient invisible cloak. Not surprisingly, however, it would not last forever. In fact, it would wear off in a couple of hours, which did limit its potential. Dr. Kemp was working on a more sustained version.

It was a tremendous relief to Griffin though that it did last only a relatively short period of time when he volunteered to be the first human to be cloaked. Dr. Kemp did not want to go through the Livingston's ethics board to recruit undergraduates as guinea pigs or, as they would be described in the protocol, experimental subjects. For very obvious reasons he wanted to keep the device secret as long as possible. He could not risk the chance of revealing its existence too soon. In addition, and perhaps more honestly, Dr. Kemp wasn't too sure that he could even get the board's approval to conduct a study with humans. He wouldn't be able to assure them that there were absolutely no risks, and it wouldn't be too surprising to discover that they felt that coating the entire body in a cloaking cream must have some potential negative consequences.

So, Dr. Kemp was going to try it on himself, but Griffin convinced him that it was best for it to be somebody else, in case something did go wrong.

Griffin was both thrilled and nervous the first time. He was thrilled in part because he realized that he would now go down in history as the first invisible man. But, of course, he was rather nervous as well. Being invisible was exciting, but the thought of being permanently so was rather disconcerting, if not frightening. Imagine having nobody ever to be able to see you again. How could a doctor treat you? You could be felt, but you couldn't be seen. Who would ever want to marry him? What would his friends say? It would be like you were no longer there, as if nobody ever recognized your presence. No, he was very, very nervous when he first received the treatment, even though he had seen the laboratory animals return into view after only a couple of hours.

It was also a bit tricky putting on the ointment, or at least it was the first few times. Every inch of the body had to be covered. Hair was particularly tricky, and so Griffin eventually just shaved his head. He even shaved off all the rest of his hair, including his pubic hair. He felt a little weird doing that. Getting the entire back done was also difficult, if there was nobody around to help apply the ointment. Getting it all down his butt crack and under his balls wasn't really difficult, but he insisted on taking care of that himself.

But, Dr. Kemp did eventually solve these additional problems by developing a more liquid form of the lens. Griffin would then just immerse himself in a tub, being sure to keep his eyes closed. Once he got out, the entire body was effectively coated. There still might be a few missed spots (e.g., the soles of the feet, which were at times cleaned of the cloaking once he stepped out of the tub and before it dried) but not nearly so many as when they had used the ointment. Plus, the liquid soaked well into the skin, and remained comprehensive in its coverage even when there was bending, flexing, or expanding.

Dr. Kemp realized that he had developed the material for a perfect magic trick. He could make a lot of money with this, and he was quite excited about it. Ever since he was a little boy he wanted to be a magician. But he had always been rather clumsy with his hands. He marveled at the feats of Doug Henning, a bit later Penn and Teller, Lance Burton, and Siegfried and Roy. He enjoyed the tricks of David Blaine and Criss Angel, although he became rather discouraged when he discovered that much of their tricks were due to simple camera work, editing, and actors, rather than true sleight of hand.

There were some other applications for a cloaking device. Intelligence agencies, law enforcement, and private detectives would all be quite interested, for rather obvious reasons. Dr. Kemp though was more excited about the magic tricks.

Griffin, though, had other ideas. He felt that there might also be additional clientele that could be interested in this new product. He considered sharing this revelation with Dr. Kemp, but he thought it best to first conduct his own experiments, his own field studies. That way he could report his proposal to Dr. Kemp with supportive empirical data.

He had his own key to the lab and, one afternoon, a nice spring day, when Dr. Kemp was out of town, he fully immersed himself in the vessel of cloaking fluid, being careful to keep his eyes tightly closed while he worked the liquid into every nook and cranny of his body. He then carefully stepped out and stood before the drying and sealant fan. Once he was thoroughly dry he inspected himself in the mirror for any parts or bits that were not fully covered. There were a few, a couple of spots beneath the crown of his penis, beneath his fingernails, the palm of his hand, the soles of his feet, and down inside the crack of his butt. These were coated and dried. He then initiated the first experiment.

Where would you first go if you were invisible? The homes of your friends to hear what they are saying about you? The homes of your enemies to discover their flaws, failings, and fallibilities? A bank to get money? The toughest, most dangerous part of town to catch thieves, rapists, and murderers? Yes, these were all very attractive options. They all had their good points. But, Griffin was a young man, and there was really no question what would, and should, be on the top of the list. He headed to the university gym for the girls' locker room.

Because it only worked well on organic matter, he could not wear any clothes. Well, he could, but his presence would then be revealed. That would be fine for walking to the gym, but he would then have to hide the clothes. He would also have to somehow cover his face and hands. One possibility would be to wear gloves and to bandage his entire face, as if he had been in some sort of accident. However, this would attract a considerable amount of problematic attention.

Griffin opted to just remain naked, which was not so bad as it was a warm, spring day. Plus, it actually added an additional spice to his experiment. He remembered as a freshman, when he first arrived on campus, having recurrent anxiety dreams of suddenly finding himself naked in a class, or walking to class, not having any idea how he got there. It was as if he had simply forgotten to put on clothes that morning, or somehow they all just disappeared from his body. He would typically wake up soon after the dream began, or more accurately the nightmare, and then breathe a deep sigh of relief realizing that it was only just a dream.

His walk across campus brought back memories of such nightmares. He was at first a bit anxious. What if the cloaking suddenly failed? He would then be within his nightmare, and this time for real. For awhile he had to continually reassure himself that he was indeed invisible, not only by repeatedly saying it to himself, but also by physically checking, repeatedly checking his hands, torso, legs, and feet, for any signs of his actual presence. It was funny. It seemed to make him feel even more naked now that he was entirely shaved, but that was hardly what did in fact make him naked.

He also overdid the hiding of his eyes, just to be doubly sure, by keeping his face, his eyes, turned down toward the ground. When it eventually became apparent that nobody was in fact noticing him, he relaxed, and grew to appreciate how much fun this really was. This was so cool! He grinned broadly but then quickly shut his mouth, realizing that his teeth briefly came into view.

He also learned to keep off the main sidewalks. He couldn't be seen, but he could be felt. A couple of persons bumped into him when he was on the sidewalk, much to their surprise and confusion. By traversing the lawns he avoided crowds. In addition, the grass was much easier on his bare feet, although he could see the indentations of his feet in the grass as he walked along.

In any case, being naked in public was rather invigorating. It was like he was committing repeated, multiple, and sustained acts of indecent exposure, with virtually no cost or penalty whatsoever. His dick swelled with pride and delight in being so brazenly displayed in the open air (he only wished that he could see it!). Of course, this experience lacked the shock and outrage of the other person but there was still something to be said for exposing your penis in public unbeknownst to the other person.

He was reminded of the times when he was young and would surreptitiously play with himself in a class, or while he was at a movie. There was something that was really quite fun and exciting about having an erection in a public place, in a very inappropriate place, and yet nobody was the wiser. Mrs. Jenkins, his teacher, would be lecturing to him about paying more attention, while unbeknownst to her he was sporting a big hard-on within his pants.

Well, this was pretty much like those experiences, but ten times better. He took hold of his cock and squeezed it. He couldn't see it, but he could feel it sticking it with pride, standing up tall in front of all of these girls walking around in their pretty blouses and short skirts. There were, of course, boys walking around as well, but his attention was on the girls. He walked with a quickened pace to the gymnasium, his stiff dick bobbing and weaving before him, a big closed-mouth grin on his face. This was so real, real cool!

Getting into the gymnasium was a bit tricky. There was no way he would be able to go through one of the front doors: too many people to collide with. He did, however, find an unlocked side door. It was then just a matter of carefully maneuvering down the hallways and stairs, but these were not particularly crowded in between classes. He hurried to the girls' locker room to avoid getting caught in a crowd.

Upon his arrival, he hesitated to enter, for two reasons. One reason was simply to provide himself one last chance to back out. If this experiment somehow went wrong, it could go wrong very, very badly. Getting caught within the girls' locker room, naked, with a hard-on, would not look too well on his academic record, to say the least. He would be suspended, if not expelled, and he could kiss his career goodbye. He was risking a great deal, just for the sake of science, for Dr. Kemp's research.

And, for what? It was Dr. Kemp who would benefit most from this experiment, with respect to both fame and fortune. He wondered if Dr. Kemp would truly appreciate how much he was sacrificing.

But, the second reason for his hesitation was simply to pause to enjoy the moment, the moment before a childhood fantasy would become a reality. He was about to enter a place where many girls would undress before him, exposing to him their naked, nude, bare bodies. Perhaps he really wasn't doing this entirely for the sake of Dr. Kemp's research. Or, at least, it wouldn't hurt to actually enjoy doing scientific research.

His hesitation ended when he saw two pretty girls push open the door, their short skirts swinging with their steps, the whiteness of their thighs briefly coming into view, and soon to be open entirely to his personal, private, confidential view. He quickly followed them inside.

He was in.

He felt like he had entered some inner sanctorum, a very special, secret, sheltered snuggery for sweet shower stuff, and none of the members of this private girls' party were the wiser.

Before him stood a bevy of pretty girls, whispering, giggling, chattering, and snickering, and all in various states of undress. Most of them appeared to have recently come out of the shower and were getting dried off and dressed. He didn't know where to look first, or second, or third, or how long to stay in any one spot. There were all sorts and shades of panties: cotton, sheer, lacy, and satin; bikini, boy short, hipsters, briefs, high cut, and thong; and all sorts of girlish brassieres: half-cup, balconette, full support, push-up, sports, minimizer, open-cup, and he even spotted a padded bra sitting on a bench. It belonged to Jenny Andrews, who was sitting right next to it, naked from the waist up!

Jenny was such a cute little thing. He had sat next to her in Dr. Brown's Introductory Algebra class, almost as close as her brassiere was sitting now. He had thought of asking her out, but he heard that she was dating someone. He smiled as he thought about Jenny Andrews apparently wearing a padded bra.

Griffin didn't really understand why she did it. He thought Jenny's little naked titties were really very cute, endearing, and sexy. He gentled fondled his hard cock as he admired how they jiggled and wiggled while she dried her hair. He made a note to himself to be sure someday to compliment Jenny on her figure. She really didn't need any extra size. These titties were a pure delight. In fact, their petiteness added to their appeal, as they looked so cute, so darling, so sweet.

Of course, there was virtually a panoply of breasts, bottoms, and pussies, in all sorts of delectable sizes and shapes. The breasts ranged from the tiniest titties to voluptuous jugs, from the round and firm to jiggly, bulbous, oblong, water balloons.

It was really quite impressive how much they jiggled and shook, like mounds, bags and bowls of sweet, lovely, luscious jello. And, they were all so white, so pure, so private and personal, capped by all sorts of different sizes of nipples. Some were very tiny, some covered lots of area, and some stood out a long ways. He recalled Farrah Fawcett's Playboy layout. He really liked her nipples a lot. They stuck out a long way but covered only a small area. One girl in the shower room particular had really big nips. He really, really liked big nipples. He liked how they would stick way out through a blouse, as if the girl was always aroused and excited, begging to be fondled and suckled. He wondered if he could get away with at least just touching one of them, if not quickly licking it. If he briefly put it between his lips, it would actually disappear. How very strange that would be. But, that would probably be too risky, getting so close and everything. The pussies varied from the hairless to furry bushes, from delicate slits to thick fleshy folds. He marveled at how evolution seemed to make pussies be in so many different shapes and sizes. What was that about, he wondered. It wasn't like guys picked mates on the basis of their pussies. They couldn't even see them, at least in the initial process of mating. But, perhaps in the hunter-gatherer days, or perhaps earlier, in caveman days, women were pretty much naked a lot, and perhaps it was a big basis for mate selection back then.




The Invisible (Young) Man



Maybe that would be one of the curious, unexpected sociological side effects of the cloaking liquid. Guys could be able to discover what their potential future mates pussies would look like. It's not like they weren't affected now by the size of their breasts, their prettiness, how well they took care of their bodies. Advertising agencies might even begin to sell products to help girls' make their pussies prettier, once it became known that guys could get a pretty good luck at them early in the relationship. He surveyed the selection before him, and wondered, contemplated, which girl had the prettiest pussy, as he stroked and fondled his hard cock.

It was such a feast for the eyes, and for his swollen dick. He gripped his cock tightly in his right hand as he so very cautiously peeked through the fingers of his left.

He would have to speak to Dr. Kemp about developing some way of cloaking a camera; a film of this would be so, so nice. For the moment, however, he would have to rely solely on his visual memory, which he attempted to permanently burn into his brain by intently studying the girls' undies, titties, bums, and cunts.

He could easily cum right now, just jerking off to the visual display, but he decided to move in closer, to study one particular girl more closely. At the moment, his eyes lusted most longingly on an entirely naked girl who was fully bent over from the waist, apparently redoing her toe nail polish. She presented such a spectacular pose, with her bottom raised up in the air, as if she was actually presenting herself to him, asking him to shove his stiff, hard cock into those soft feminine lips, peeking out from between her white fleshy thighs. Imagine suddenly fucking a girl from behind, while invisible. Wouldn't that be confusing to her! But, clearly it would be too risky.

Covering his eyes with his fingers, focusing on the tiled floor beneath his feet, he moved in closer, then closer, then closer, then up real close.

She didn't seem to know he was there. He carefully looked up between the tight slights of his fingers.

Her bottom was so, so sweet. It was so delectably round. A girl's bottom was always so appealing, so endearing, so sweet and sexy, particularly when she was naked, and even more so when she was bent over, as it then took on such a full round shape, split by such a tempting crack, like a fresh melon split down the middle for a juicy feast.

She briefly turned her head. It was Janice Weatherbee! He couldn't believe his luck. Janice was such a stuck-up snob, although a really very pretty one. He had in fact asked her out a few times, knowing full well though that she was probably out of his league. But, he obsessively, and probably stupidly, kept trying, interpreting every declination as simply a sign that she just wasn't quite sure, that maybe if he asked her again some other time she would eventually say yes, and once she spent some time with him, she would realize how much she might indeed like him. If she had said that there was one chance in a million that she would go out with him, he might even interpret that as indicating that she was telling him there was indeed a chance. Well, he wasn't that dumb, but he just wouldn't quit trying, and she finally just laughed in his face and said, "Get serious you little toad. Why don't you try the girl's wrestling team," and then strode off, laughing all the way. That did finally end his attempts. He had gotten the message, albeit belatedly.

And now she was presenting her naked bottom to him, just inches from his eyes. 'Goodness,' he thought, 'She has a birth mark on her left cheek.' Wouldn't it be so cool to ask her about it tomorrow! No, no, be cool. The only way he could know about such a thing would be through some sort of criminal act, unless someone realized that he had made himself invisible, and that obviously was rather unlikely, at least not until Dr. Kemp released to the public the news of his invention.

Besides, there were much more pleasing things to see other than her birth mark. His eyes fixed on her rosebud, peeking out from between her cheeks. It was so curly, so naughty, so cute and so inviting. He smiled, being careful not to open his mouth.

He did though reach out and lightly flick her puckered little anus with the tip of his finger.

"Oh!" She squealed, quickly bringing a hand back to her offended orifice and turning around, trying to discover who would do such a thing. But, apparently there was nobody there.

Griffin stepped back as quickly as she had turned, his smile growing broader, albeit all the while being sure to keep his lips sealed. He watched with delight as those full round boobs of Janice shook and wiggled with her sudden movement. He was about as delighted as she was confused.

How very odd, she thought. She was certain she had felt someone, something, touch her there, but there was nobody back there, behind her. Maybe it was a fly or something? 'How gross,' she thought, thinking about a fly, or any insect, landing on her anus. She instinctively squeezed it shut.

With her turning around, Griffin now delighted in the sight of the front view of Janice's cunnie. It was as alluring as she was pretty. She had a landing strip: a rectangular strip of trimmed hair ending at her pussy lips, which were otherwise entirely shaved. Her unshaved pussy slit looked so vulnerable, so defenseless, and so enticing. Griffin hid his eyes with his left hand and reached way out to lightly touch her clitoral hood.

Janice quickly clutched her hands to her cunnie. She knew she was feeling something. Wasn't she? What the heck was this? She scratched herself down there. Perhaps it was just some sort of an itch. She thought, 'If that Billy Bagdowns gave me some sort of STD, he was in big trouble!'

Griffin quickly flicked one nipple and then the other.

"No!" Janice exclaimed, shifting her hands from her cunnie to her breasts, clutching them tightly. Sometimes the sight of a girl clutching her own breasts, squeezing their full softness, was more erotic than simply being able to see their full nakedness. Griffin clutched his own stiff cock, squeezing it hard as Janice squeezed her naked breasts, for the moment leaving her sweet hairless cunt open to his eyes.

He did, though, back further and further away. She was looking around very carefully while her hands were feeling, exploring, her personal spots, trying to rub away the memory of the strange flicking sensations. It actually looked like she was playing with herself, stimulating herself.

Griffin backed further away. He didn't want to press his luck. She might catch a glimpse of his eyes peeking through his fingers. He moved a good distance away.

A pair of sheer panties hung over a towel bar. It was either hanging there to dry or perhaps this is what they did in a girls' locker room for lost and found. He wouldn't know. What he did know is that they would serve well to hide his eyes. He positioned himself behind them.

It was really quite wonderful, peeking at such deliciously naked and half-naked young feminine flesh through diaphanous pink panties. It was like the girls were all purposely, willfully, putting on a show just for him, the kind of show that had been in his dreams, his fantasies, but was now entirely for real. He breathed in the feminine scent of the panties as he gazed at the pink haze of luscious flesh through the pretty pink curtain and stroked his cock.

It wouldn't take too much longer. Actually, he could make himself cum pretty fast, but he wanted it to last as long as possible, to perhaps cum just as the last girl double-checked the straps of her brassiere before finally leaving the locker room. He could then safely let his cum spray out across the floor.

Once his cum left his body, it would not be cloaked. Any girl would be able to see it. It would be best to wait until there were only a couple of them left in the room. He sighed deeply as he felt his balls churning, tightening against his body, as his fist slid up and down its length as he watched another preciously pretty girl carefully trim the hair of her pussy, her thighs spread wide open, the lips of her pussy so pink and fleshy. But, then, there was this other girl, little Mary Anne. She was such a cute, petite, little thing, and the sight of those perky bubbies was so darling, so endearing. He wondered if he should perhaps shoot off onto them. She was such an innocent girl that having a man cum all over her girlish puppy titties would be such a shock. Perhaps a delightful one? He looked down at his cock, intending to enjoy the sight of its full thick stoutness, as he often did when he jerked off at home. But, for a moment there he had forgotten the fact that he was unable to see it.

But, he did see it, sort of. He couldn't actually really fully see it, but he did see a misty outline of parts of it. His eyes checked elsewhere, and he quickly realized that he could also see the outline of parts of his leg, his arm, his chest. It wasn't the actual parts. It wasn't his skin. It was this sort of watery image.

It was the mist from the shower room! Tiny, minuscule, droplets of water were falling onto, adhering to, his skin, gradually accumulating to the point that they were beginning to form a visible outline of his body, a misty, watery shape of his body.

Griffin gasped in fright and dashed into the towel room adjoining the locker room, ignoring the fact that his bare feet were making a considerable amount of noise as he ran across the tiled floor. But, it wasn't really that risky, as the sound of his bare feet was hardly distinguishable from the many other bare feet that were pattering around, along with all the talking and giggling. The girls' locker room literally echoed with feminine giggles and chatter.

Once in the towel room, Griffin felt reasonably safe, as he was alone. He inched around behind a table that was covered in folded towels, quickly slipped the top one off, knelt down, and thoroughly dried himself, being sure to get every single inch and centimeter.

He didn't go back into the locker room. Well, he did, but only as a means to get to and through the exit. Once out of the building he scampered around to the back and stood for awhile in the sun, holding out his arms and hands, turning around and around, until he felt thoroughly confident that he was in fact completely dry. He made his way back to the lab, repeatedly checking himself to be sure that he was remaining cloaked.

In one important regard the experiment was a failure. He had not had his ejaculation. But, he had learned a great deal, and that was the primary purpose of experiments, wasn't it?

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

As a young scientist, he did not give up. He did not let this minor setback thwart his effort to discover the true benefits of being invisible. For his next experiment he went to a place that would lack comparable difficulties with humidity.

It was the Delta Nu sorority house. Delta Nu was known to have some of the most attractive girls on campus (see "Five Steps to Delta Nu"). He had never before been inside a sorority house. He had to imagine that it would be terribly revealing. He felt like a spy, going undercover, infiltrating an enemy's headquarters but, of course, sorority girls were not the enemy. They would, however, hold secret treasures and sorority girls did often seem terribly mysterious, even foreign. Griffin imagined that he would learn a great deal going undercover into one of their private shelters.

He arrived in the evening, hopefully just a few minutes before it was time for bed, or for whatever girls did together in the late evening hour. He imagined pillow fights in undies, or perhaps he would even see an initiation of a new pledge. He smiled, and his cock swelled, at the thought of seeing a pretty girl being bent over for a spanking. Perhaps the other girls wear nighties when they spanked the upturned naked bottom of a pledge. Or, maybe they have the pledge mount a big rubber dildo while they spanked her! Well, his fantasizing was getting the better of him. Nothing like that would ever really happen (see "Five Steps to Delta Nu").

He smiled broadly as he quietly entered the house, right behind two of the sisters, who carefully locked the door behind them. His cock was already stiffly standing up. These two girls were so pretty. He felt like poking them in their butts with his dick, but he knew it was best to err on the side of caution. He quickly distanced himself from them, not wanting to accidentally bump into them. He explored the rest of the house with considerable expectation and anticipation. His heart was racing with excitement.

As he explored room after room his excitement gradually turned into disappointment, frustration, and then even some boredom. There was nothing going on in any of these rooms! The girls in the study were doing just that, studying. The girls in the living room were just sitting around, talking. He stood there for awhile, stroking his cock in the middle of the room, as the pretty girls chatted all around him, oblivious to the fact that there was this naked guy in their midst, jerking off right in front of them.

But, even that lost its appeal after awhile. There's only so long one can listen in on girls' conversations. It was like he was stuck on an elevator jammed with girls all yammering on their cell phones. It was enough to lose his erection, although it would be kind of fun to ejaculate onto the carpeting. That might silence them, all of them staring silently at the odd splats on their fine thick rug. His erection swelled with that thought, but there had to be something more to a sorority house than just girls talking.

He left the living room for the basement, his hard cock bobbing and weaving before him, like it was his own divining rod, searching for erotic femininity, and it led him to the basement.

But, there was nothing down there. One girl was listening to CDs by headphone, while a few others were eating popcorn while watching a DVD movie, Legally Blonde. He had never seen the movie himself as it was rather old, and he didn't understand why the girls were so excited about it.

He considered jerking off into the popcorn bowl. That would be funny. But, that would certainly reveal his presence. They would figure that there must be some guy in the house, and they may even have some sort of emergency lock down. He left the basement, divining rod beginning to wilt.

There was, of course, the bedrooms upstairs. There had to be something of interest within sorority girl bedrooms. He silently and furtively made his way up the stairs.

The immediate difficulty he faced was the fact that most of the bedroom doors were closed. A few of them with open doors did have a girl in them, but nothing obviously appealing. If there was something interesting going on, it would naturally be behind closed doors.

He knocked on one door. If someone answered he would just move away. But, then, of course, he wanted someone to be there. He realized that he had not fully thought this through. He decided that if there was no answer, he would open the door, being ready to dash off if there was in fact someone in the room, likely to be mystified by the door apparently opening by itself.

He knocked. No answer. He carefully entered the bedroom and shut the door behind him.

He turned on the light, and grinned. He was stark naked in the private bedroom of a Delta Nu girl. That was itself rather appealing. He explored every nook and cranny.

He went over to the vanity table. The carpeting was really quite nicely lush and thick. It felt really nice on his bare feet. The vanity mirror and table was an alter of femininity. It was littered with different shades of nail polish, a hair brush, hair spray, hand lotion, brush powder blush, lipstick, high impact mascara, lips plump and shine kit, kohl shaper for eyes, and a fresh bloom allover color; all Clinique. There was also Clinique elixir body cream, body smoother, and body wash, and three or four Clinique perfumes, although he wasn't really sure what was what. There was also a music box, an aroma candle (shaped as a little orange mouse), a stack of Cosmopolitans, an In Style special edition on Faith Hill (and another one on Renee Zellweger), a stuffed teddy bear, a victory cup with pens adorned with pink puffy fluff, and excessively ornamented and highly colorful picture frames, with pictures of girls at some parties, one of a boy (very good looking), and Chihuahua wearing a white sweater. Actually, there was a lot more. He did briefly consider trying some of the lotion on his hard cock, but then realized that it would no longer be invisible.

He went over to the bed and lay down on the thick pink coverlet, adorned with little yellow daisies, and inspected the rest of the room. Much of it was also pink, and very, very feminine. He played with himself as he surveyed the room; the dresser, also cluttered, including pictures (more of that Chihuahua), another stuffed bear, and a pink fortune-telling cootie catcher. There was also a very comfortable looking Florenza slipper chair covered with stuffed animals, including Tigger and Winnie the Pooh, rose, violet and pink throw pillows (all over the place), flowery curtains, and lots of different blouses, skirts, pants, tops, t-shirts, and even panties and brassieres, lying all over the place. His eyes fixed particularly on these. It was really too much to absorb in one sitting. He knew he was where he shouldn't be, and certainly he wasn't dressed as he should be, and that was precisely the pleasure. His cock felt so good to the touch.

But, he then realized that the most feminine things of all would be hidden away. He leaped from the bed and made his away over to the dresser.

It didn't take long for him to find a drawer full of very colorful, sexy panties. His cock swelled further as he explored the treasure trove of personal feminine delights. There was pink cotton, green silk, yellow satin, and blue lace, and they were all sorts of different styles and types. He even felt he could detect a wonderfully delightful scent emanating from the feminine feast, perhaps remnants of perfume or the potpourri sitting on the dresser. It didn't matter. It was all good. Perhaps it would be nice to actually jerk off into one of them, and then leave it in the drawer? Actually, he probably should take it with him, but how could he do that? He could stuff it into his mouth, but certainly not after he had cum into it.

The door was opening! He quickly shut the drawer, hid his eyes, and moved off to a corner of the room.

It was two Delta Nu sisters. The first girl reached instinctively to turn on the light, but then noticed as quickly that she must have left it on.

"Sarah, I bought the cutest panties this week. I really want you to see them."

That immediately had Griffin's attention.

"Patty, you already have so many panties. Why do you keep buying more?"

"But, they're so pretty. Here, you must see them."

Sarah modestly closed the bedroom door as Patty raised her skirt.

Patty was a pretty redhead with long, straight hair, which was complemented well by her floral red print blouse and short red skirt. When she raised her skirt, she modeled for Patty a string bikini panty. The front was a pastel light blue, the back, or bottom, was a pastel rose. They were so tight that Patty's camel toe was very evident.

"Oh my, Patty, those are really so pretty. You always have such nice panties."

"Would you like to borrow some? I really do have a lot, and we are the same size."

They were indeed. Both were very petite girls, although Sarah was clearly much more endowed up top than Patty. Sarah had wavy blonde hair, with very alluring oval blue eyes, large fluttering eyelashes, a perky nose, rosy red cheeks, and full pink lips.




The Invisible (Young) Man



"Oh yes!" Sarah exclaimed, "We can have a panty party!"

Griffin had never heard of that. A panty party would seem to be an urban legend of adolescent boys but, here he was, witnessing one in reality, in person. Yes, going undercover within a sorority house was revealing some interesting secrets. He wondered if he could even conduct an anthropological study of sorority sisters. Or, perhaps have a website devoted to the uncovering of the many secrets of sorority sisters. Wouldn't that be popular! Yes, there was quite a bit of potential in being invisible. He stroked his cock as Patty scampered over to her dresser.

She opened the drawer that he was just moments ago inspecting, and removed a pair of blue silk hipsters. "Oh, here, try these on. I really like them, they're so shiny."

"Oh yes, yes. Those are cool." Sarah moved over closer to Griffin to give herself room to change. She bent over and reached underneath her skirt to remove her rather traditional, plain white cotton panties. She let them slip down to her ankles, and then stepped out.

"Here," Patty said, "lift up your skirt and I'll slip them on for you."

Yes, this is what he was hoping to find within a sorority house. Griffin moved out of the corner, away from Sarah, over to the curtains, and slid behind one of them. The curtain moved a bit with his movement but the window was open. It could have simply been a breeze. He was pleased to discover that he could easily see through the sheer, pink curtain.

Sarah lifted up her skirt to reveal to Griffin's eyes the prettiest pussy he had ever seen. Actually, that wasn't really true. He had seen quite a few very pretty pussies in the locker room, but if he rank ordered them Sarah's would be ranked pretty darn high.

Sarah was fully shaved, and all that was there was a small, virginal white pouch, slit at the bottom like someone had just cut a small crevice into a ripe peach.

"You have the prettiest pussy, Sarah."

"Shut-up, Patty. You're embarrassing me." She gave Patty a playful kick, but she kept the skirt raised, letting Patty, and Griffin, admire her prettiness. Girls did like feeling pretty, and having their prettiness appreciated and admired.

"Oh, but it's true. You know it. It's so pretty it really should be kissed."

'Oh please kiss it, please kiss it, please kiss it,' thought Griffin, his hand working up and down his cock, the curtain rustling a bit. Griffin again figured that the little movement could be mistaken for a breeze.

"Don't you tease me, Patty Johnson." She spread her thighs a bit, giving Patty more room, if perhaps she was in fact serious about it.

Griffin wondered if he should feel at all guilty about this. He was, after all, in a private bedroom. They probably wouldn't like it if they knew a guy was looking at them. But, he obviously didn't have to tell them. That would be mean, even cruel, and he had no intention of doing that. When he published his report, co-authored with Dr. Kemp, of course, he would certainly disguise the name of the sorority, although he wondered if his description would give it away. He would have to visit a few others, just to be sure that any one of them would not be identifiable and, besides, a broader sampling would be more informative for the report. There could in fact be considerable variation in sorority girl panty parties.

Patty got down on her knees before her sorority sister and said, "Step out of your heels so you can slip the panties on."

Sarah was disappointed that Patty did not in fact kiss her, although probably not as much as Griffin.

But, she did as Patty requested, and then stepped into the silk panties.

Patty pulled them up her calves, up to her knees, and then all the way past her thighs and over her bottom.

Sarah raised her skirt even higher to give Patty room. It felt a little funny to have another girl put on her panties, but the sisters of Delta Nu did many things together. They were just like real sisters, and sisters helped each other with their make-up, their hair, their outfits.

Patty pulled the panties up really snug so that the front clung tightly to Sarah's cunnie. She leaned back on her haunches to admire her work, her panties, and Sarah's tightly wrapped cunnie. "Oh yes, they're really very pretty on you. They look much better on you than me. You'll have to just keep these."

"Oh Patty, I can't take your panties," but these were obviously quite expensive panties and she would so much like to have them.

"No, really, you look incredibly awesome in them. You have such a pretty camel toe, Sarah."

"Shut-up Patty!" Sarah exclaimed. "Don't talk like that!"

Patty smiled up at her, knowingly, "But, you know it's true."

"Well, you have a very pretty camel toe, too, Patty."

"You're just saying that."

"No, no really. I saw it when you first showed me your new panties."

Griffin had heard girls trading compliments before, with respect to a dress, hairdo, fingernail polish, shoes, purse, blouse, belt, eyeliner. Actually, there seemed to be no end to it. There wasn't any detail that a girl wouldn't notice in another girl's outfit, appearance. Apparently they went further when they were alone. This would make for such a cool report for Dr. Kemp, and certainly good for his website: Secrets of the Sorority.

Patty got back on her feet and raised up her skirt to look for herself. "Do you really think it's pretty?"

Griffin stopped stroking himself for awhile. He knew he had to pace himself. He just let his stiff cock bob in the cool spring air by the window.

"For sure, Patty. Look how soft and delicate it is. I think it needs a kiss too." 

'Oh please kiss it, please kiss it, please kiss it,' thought Griffin. His hand immediately returned to his cock as he, and Sarah, admired Patty's camel toe. If she kissed it he would have to cum. He would just have to jack off to completion if Sarah began to kiss it.

Patty responded, "Let's try on some more."

Griffin groaned in frustration.

"What was that?" Sarah asked.

"What?"

"That noise. I thought I heard someone."

"Sarah, don't be silly. We're on the second floor."

"Well, maybe you should shut the window and close the curtains."

"Oh don't be silly, Sarah. It's much too nice tonight. Don't you think the spring breeze is wonderful?"

"Yea, well, what if some guy was looking through the window?" Sarah was feeling a little self-conscious.

Patty looked toward the window as well, and then back at Sarah, and said flirtatiously, "Yes, and wouldn't that be nice?"

"Patty, you dirty girl!"

Patty strolled over to the window, over to Griffin. He froze in mid-stroke. She raised her skirt, showing anyone outside who might happen to be walking by, and showing Griffin, who was standing right in front of her, her new pretty panties and camel toe. "I think it might be kind of nice to have a boy here with us, watching us, watching as we try on our panties."

"Patty, you're crazy!"

Patty was a bit of a scamp. "We could try on all sorts of different panties while he sat there, watching us, perhaps even playing with himself."

"That's gross!" Apparently Sarah wasn't as interested in exhibitionistic play as much as Patty.

Patty reached down to softly slide a finger up and down her panty slit. "He would get so excited, stroking his big manly cock as he watched the two pretty girls showing him their panties."

Griffin grabbed hold of his own cock and followed her lead, her suggestion. For a brief moment he even considered speaking up. But, he knew she probably wasn't being serious and, besides, perhaps they might have some difficulty with the fact that he was invisible.

For a moment, he and Patty looked into each other's eyes, or at least he looked into hers, as she stroked his cock and she played with her slit, looking out into the night air.

Sarah though broke the spell. "Patty, stop that! Get away from that window!"

Patty let her skirt drop back down and she returned to the dresser drawer to find another pair of panties. She pulled out a pair of pink boyshorts with lacy rose trim. "I just love boyshorts. They wrap around your bottom so snugly. Here," she said, handing them over to Sarah, "put these on."

"Oh, no, no, Patty, you should put those on. You have a much better bottom than me."

Patty smiled modestly. "No I do not. Don't say such things. Do you really think so?" She looked back over her shoulder. "I think it's too chubby."

"Chubby? My gosh, Patty, you have the perkiest, firmest fanny I've ever seen. Please, be real. C'mon, you put them on."

"Well, okay," Patty said, blushing at Sarah's enthusiastic compliments of her bottom. She did in fact feel that her bottom was rather appealing. It was perhaps her best feature, but she did also feel that she could, should, lose some weight.

She reached under her skirt to grasp hold of and remove her string bikini panties. She bent way over by the waist as she pulled them down. She was purposely providing Sarah with a very flirtatious presentation of her bottom, which rose up as she bent over.

Griffin cursed his unfortunate luck that she was facing Sarah to show Sarah her bottom. If a boy was there, she would probably have poked her bottom back at him. But, then again, he realized that he should be grateful for what he was in fact seeing rather than feeling sorry for himself over what he was missing. Not too many guys would have a front row seat to this. And, besides, his angle also had its own appeal. He did like the view of seeing just the top of her split hillocks rising up beyond her back, teasingly suggesting, hinting, at how wonderful the view would in fact be from behind.

Patty took her time getting her panties off her ankles, turning and wiggling her bottom as she apparently struggled to get them untangled. She could have made it easier by first taking off her heels, but she liked having the excuse to pose her bottom longer for Sarah and, besides, she certainly wanted to be wearing her heels when she evaluated the fit of the boyshorts. Heels do help make panties look nice on your bottom.

Once she finally had them removed, she stood back up and held out the boyshorts to Sarah. "Will you help me put them on?"

Sarah smiled. Patty was such a scamp.

Griffin would certainly like to help. He let just the tip of his cock touch the curtain as he slid his fist up and down the shaft. It nicely tickled the tip. If he actually shot off onto the curtain, it might not in fact be detected, at least not immediately. The curtain moved a bit, but, again, it could just be a breeze.

Sarah knelt down to help Patty step into the panties. Patty placed a hand on Sarah's shoulder to steady herself.

When the panties were just up to her ankles Patty said, "Wait," and turned around, taking awkward little steps with the panties around her ankles, turning so that her back, or more importantly, her bottom, faced Sarah. She then bent over and flipped up her skirt, presenting her little round naked fanny right in front of Sarah's eyes. If that wasn't enough, she wiggled and waggled her bottom, ostensibly to help Sarah pull the panties up her calves and thighs.

It was a very sexy sight, and Griffin slowly, carefully, inched his way from behind the curtain, quickly shifting his right hand to his eyes to keep them well hidden. He knew he was taking a pretty big chance, as the bedroom was not large. He quietly worked his way to stand behind Patty, and Sarah, and once there he was fully rewarded for his bravery, as Patty's bottom was indeed a very endearingly cherubic sight, and with her fanny up pose, he was also greeted by the sight of her cunnie pouch peeking out between her thighs. Like Sarah, she was also hairless. Griffin wondered if it was a requirement of Delta Nu sisters to be fully shaven. Wouldn't it be so nice to see them all together on a Saturday morning, standing in line for house mother inspection, all having their naked, freshly shaven pussies checked. He squeezed hard on his cock with his left hand.

Sarah though blocked his view as she got up close to Patty's bottom to slip the boyshorts over her bottom curves. She gave Patty a few playful, affectionate pats on her bottom before she covered it up. And, she took her time making sure that it was a good snug fit, pulling the waistband up tight so that they hugged her fanny and revealed the bottoms of her cheeks. Boyshort panties were particularly sweet in that regard. It was like they were a size too small. Sarah even reached down into, in between, Patty's thighs to be sure the panties hug snugly Patty's cunnie pouch, or at least that was the ostensive purpose, as she was also feeling, fondling, and caressing Patty's pussy.

"Sarah!" Patty squealed in protest, but the big smile on her face and her giggle made it quite clear that she didn't really object. In fact, she bent over further and opened her thighs wider to give Sarah more room. "What are you doing back there?"

"I just want to be sure they fit snugly. You don't want them to chaff or anything, do you?"

"No, no, of course not," Patty sighed.

Sarah continued a bit longer to fondle and caress Patty's cunnie through the panties, as Patty whimpered with pleasure.

Griffin tried to get a better look, but he had to suddenly leap back when Sarah lost her balance and fell backward, almost crashing right into Griffin.

Patty and Sarah giggled over Sarah's misfortune. Griffin nervously shifted away from them, his heart pounding in apprehension, his dick straining with arousal.

"C'mon," Sarah said, as she got back up onto her feet. "Let's compare." She went over to Patty's large oval beveled wall mirror, turned her back to it, bent over, and tossed her skirt up over her back.

Patty cheerfully followed her over. It felt like two young girls comparing dress-up outfits before their mother's big mirror, but there was an important difference, notably evident when Patty bent over beside Sarah and tossed her skirt up over her back as well.

They both giggled like school girls as they viewed their upraised bottoms in the mirror.

Griffin felt a moment of panic as he looked into the mirror, briefly doubting Dr. Kemp's declaration that mirrors would have no impact on the effectiveness of the cloaking, like a sort of reverse-vampire thing. Actually, it wasn't at all like vampires not being able to provide a reflection. The refraction of the light in this case was quite real, and it was understandable to think that a reflection of a refraction could be quite disruptive. He carefully studied the mirror for any sign of himself. There was none (except for his eyes peaking out in two very, very small slits). He returned his attention to the two girls. When he saw them giggling at their reflected bottoms, wiggling their derrieres provocatively at the mirror, his fears washed away, and he had such an urge to finish off his masturbation right then, to go up to them and explode his cum onto their heads, their hair, and when they turned to look at what was raining down on them, where it was coming from, onto their faces. It would be so wonderfully playful and erotic. He could then suddenly dash from the room.

They wouldn't see him. They wouldn't be able to identify him. And, they certainly wouldn't conclude that some invisible guy came on their faces. Who would believe that? They wouldn't believe it themselves. They would just say that somehow they missed him, he moved so fast. That maybe he was hiding all the time beneath the bed and then suddenly, somehow, squirted his sloppy slime on their faces as he dashed by, the cum effectively preventing them from seeing him as he hurried out the door.

He began to work on his cock more vigorously, albeit being careful not to make too much noise. Frankly, he shouldn't make any noise, but the girls' laughter, talking, and giggling did drown out the sound of hand sliding up and down cock.

"You see!" Sarah asserted. "Your bottom is so much prettier than mine. Look how perky it is."

"Yes, well," Patty countered, "Yours is so much rounder and fuller. It's like a pretty blue pumpkin."

"Shut-up!" Sarah exclaimed and slapped Patty's bottom.

"Hey, stop that!" Patty responded, and gave Sarah a return slap on her bottom.

Griffin slapped his meat more vigorously, feeling himself on the verge, and then they all heard the knocking on the door.

Patty and Sarah quickly stood back up straight as the door opened and a girl peeked around the partially opened door to announce, "C'mon, c'mon!" She squealed. It was Bree Olson. Griffin recognized her. She was so incredibly pretty, and hot. She was a petite girl with long, wavy blonde hair, large brown eyes, creamy smooth skin, lovely dimples, a perky nose, and a wonderful smile. Her voice was itself a delight, so cute and feminine. He couldn't see them right now, but she also had really big tits. "You're going to miss Gossip Girl," she exclaimed and then dashed off to the next room.

"Oh my, yes," Patty exclaimed, "Blair's going to get back at Nelly tonight!"

In an amazing display of distractibility, Sarah and Patty quickly forgot about their panty party and turned their attention to the latest episode of one of their favorite television shows. Patty kicked off her heels as they dashed from the room, slamming the door behind them.

Griffin just stood there, nonplussed, holding the bag, or more accurately, his cock. He considered finishing himself off, perhaps cumming on Patty's discarded panties. That would be fun. He certainly felt like he needed to cum.

But, he also wanted his first invisible man cum to be more memorable than simply just jerking off onto a girl's panties on her bedroom floor. Heck, he had done that in his sister's room growing up. He was disappointed.

He carefully opened the door a crack and peeked out into the hallway. The hall was empty. It was safe. He slipped out of the bedroom and quietly shut the door behind him. He considered trying another room, but it was likely that all of the girls were now watching television. In any case, he was uncertain that he wanted to take any more chances. He had almost got caught a couple of times in Patty's bedroom, and it was perhaps time to return to the lab, record his notes of the experience, the experiment, and get dressed as his the cloaking wore off.

However, when back on the commons, on the way to the lab, he came upon Janice Weatherbee. His interest, his optimism, his enthusiasm for his exploration of life as the invisible man quickly returned, as did the swelling of his cock. She was so incredibly hot. Didn't he already say that about a girl? Actually, a lot of girls looked incredibly hot to him. But, right now, she looked especially hot, and his memory of her in the shower room, the memory of her naked bottom, breasts, and cunt, flooded back.

He reversed direction and followed her, closely behind. He didn't know where she was going, but he enjoyed the sight of her swaying bottom as she went.

He smiled (mouth closed), enjoying the fact that he could openly stare at her butt all the way across campus, his cock waving and weaving in the evening spring breeze. If she only knew.

He followed her all the way back to her dormitory, which was precisely in the wrong direction he should be traveling. The lab was back near the sororities and fraternities. But, it was a nice night for a stroll in the nude. He walked with some pride as his stiff cock bounced up and down as he strolled behind Janice, admiring her behind. It was like his stiff dick was leading him along, like it was magnetized by her swaying bottom.

Getting through the front door of the dorm was not difficult. The elevator though was a bit tricky. Janice was the first to get in, followed by two more girls, followed by him. There was a brief, momentary confusion for the girls as the door suddenly stopped and slid back open, apparently for no reason at all.




The Invisible (Young) Man



Fortunately, there was sufficient room for him. Janice was standing to the left, by the floor button panel. The two other girls were toward the back. He moved quickly to the right, pressing himself up tightly against the wall. It was a little risky, perhaps a lot risky, as he had no room to escape. But, as long as everyone remained in their current positions, and nobody else got in, he would be fine. Actually, what if someone else got on? He briefly panicked at the thought as the elevator door closed, and he was trapped in the small room.

As the elevator slowly proceeded up the shaft he kept saying to himself, 'Please, nobody else get on, nobody else get on, nobody else get on.' And, nobody did. There was actually little reason for persons to get on after they left the lobby and the mezzanine. A student could visit another student in a floor above, but that did not generate a lot of traffic, particularly as there was four elevators to choose from.

The two girls got off on the fourth floor, and as they exited the elevator Griffin pressed his cock back against his abdomen. It would not be good if they happened to brush against it as they were walking out. He almost cursed himself for having such a big erection, or at least it felt rather big in this context. There were perhaps times that was a problem.

When the door closed he was alone with Janice.

It was really kind of strange, being alone with a girl on an elevator, with her not having any knowledge of his presence. Equally important, he was stark naked. He held his breath as he felt his cock, not wanting to take a chance on her hearing his breathing in the deep silence and solitude of the elevator. For perhaps the first time in his life, he cursed the absence of elevator muzac. She though just stood there with a blank, indifferent expression, just staring at the door, waiting patiently to arrive at her floor. She was such a pretty girl. He could not wait to get into her bedroom. He softly felt his erection, considering the possibility of having it lightly touch her hand.

He followed her off the elevator onto the eighth floor of the dormitory tower, his heart beating in anticipation. But, she didn't go to her room. She instead went to the lavatory.

He paused. It was very tempting to follow her in. How many guys have wondered what actually goes on in the girls' bathroom. There could be all sorts of things to see. He might even take a pee. But, he wasn't too enamored with the idea of walking around a lavatory in his bare feet. A girls' lavatory would probably be a lot more sanitary than a boys' lavatory, but it still didn't sound too good. Plus, he wasn't actually into water sports or anything. Any, frankly, most importantly, she was probably going to the bathroom and he didn't want to violate her privacy. He would feel bad about that. He waited respectfully for her outside, dodging other girls who were coming up and down the hall.

By the time Janice returned, his cock was largely deflated. Nevertheless, he knew things would get better when he got to her room. He gleefully followed her down the hall.

His heart began to race as she unlocked her door and stepped in to turn on the light.

He dashed in behind her, before she turned to shut the door. It was actually very close. In fact, he did brush the door a bit, but it didn't seem to trouble her.

However, he probably didn't have to hurry, as she held the door open a bit to retrieve the sign on the inside doorknob. It read, "Do not disturb." She switched it to the outside knob. She pressed the button on the inside doorknob to lock it, and then shut the door.

She apparently had a roommate, which was rather apparent when he looked around and saw two twin beds. He immediately moved over to a far corner of the room, trying to distance himself from anything she might want to use or touch. Of course, being in a corner wasn't too good either. He might be literally cornered.

This bedroom wasn't nearly as cluttered, decorated, or finely furnished as Patty's, but he was much more interested in Janice than in the decor and furnishing. He had a sort of relationship with Janice, or at least he sorely wanted one.

Janice didn't provide any threat with regard to accidentally bumping into him. In fact, she went right to her bed and lay down.

Griffin's thoughts were beginning to race. Was she about to do what he was thinking, what he hoped? Was she? She was probably just going to study. That's why she hung the 'No Disturb' sign. But, why was she reclining on the bed to do that? He always just fell asleep when he tried to study that way. Maybe she was going to take a nap? No, nobody takes a nap in the evening.

Janice answered his question. She lay back comfortably in the bed and began to softly caress and fondle her breasts with her hands through her blouse.

Griffin shook his head in wonder and disbelief. This was so very cool. They were going to make a lot of money with the cloaking fluid, or at least Dr. Kemp was. Perhaps though he could convince Dr. Kemp that he manage the sales to the fraternities? He stepped up to the foot of Janice's bed so that he would have the best vantage point.

He would have to admit that he wasn't really into watching girls masturbate. It didn't really do that much for him in porno movies. He would normally just skip those scenes to get to the other stuff, the real sex.

But, this was pretty much different in very important ways. First, it was for real. Watching a girl masturbate for real, in the privacy, or presumed privacy, of her bedroom, was pretty darn cool. It was perhaps a voyeur's dream come true. Yea, a lot of voyeurs would want this cloaking cream. He wondered how they might promote it to them, without being obvious, assuming, of course, that he could in fact become a partner in its sales and production. But, he imagined he would be, once he provided Dr. Kemp with all of his fantastic ideas.

Second, it was Janice Weatherbee: the pretty, sexy, and hot, but snooty, arrogant, snobby, elitist Janice Weatherbee. If she were a girl who was actually a good friend of his, he would probably feel pretty guilty about this. It wasn't like he was watching her pee or anything, but it was a little bit of a violation of privacy, wasn't it? Actually, maybe more than just a little bit. But, he didn't feel so bad about Janice. No, being able to watch Janice diddle herself was going to be pretty darned cool. He grabbed hold of his cock and aimed it at her as she shifted one hand away from her breast down to her skirt.

She slid her hand underneath her skirt and up to her panties, up to her cunnie. She sighed deeply as she fondled a breast and pinched a nipple with one hand, and caressed and rubbed her clitoris with the other. She was not wasting any time, probably because her roommate could arrive at any moment. Her bottom began to squirm around and around on the bed, her breathing accelerating.

She removed her hand from beneath her skirt and brought it to her blouse, where she quickly undid the buttons.

Griffin smiled broadly, for a moment forgetting about his teeth. He had, of course, recently seen Janice entirely naked, but it was still pretty darned early in their new "relationship" to become jaded by the sight of her naked body, and this was more than just seeing her naked while she did her nails. She was seductively undressing before him as she pleasured herself, unbeknownst to the fact that he was standing there, right in front of her. Yes, this was going to the next level of their relationship.

Janice spread open her blouse and pulled up her rose cotton brassiere, to provide her with better access to her naked tits and nips. She did not have particularly large breasts but they were wonderfully firm. They did not even appear to lose any shape as she lay back on the bed. They were sitting up on her chest like two white coconuts, capped by very stiff and pointy stiff twigs.

She flipped up her skirt, revealing to his eyes the front "V" of her rose cotton panties. He didn't even have time to see if she had a nice camel toe, but he wasn't terribly disappointed in being denied that information, as Janice quickly pulled her pantie to the side, opening up to his eyes, once again, that deliciously shaved cunnie, which she attacked with a ruthlessly lustful vengeance, squeezing her cunnie lips together, twisting them, and then deeply rubbing, wringing, her fingers against her budding clit.

Griffin would, himself, be much gentler with a girl. He wondered if, for all these years, he had been making a mistake. Perhaps girls like you to be rougher with them, down there. In any case, Janice obviously liked it this way. He made a mental note of this, if he ever had the opportunity to pinch Janice's nipples and clit, although he had in fact given up on ever actually going on a dater with her. But, still, this could in fact be quite a bit better.

She was squeezing her tits, pinching and pulling on her nipples, and grinding her clit. He was certainly getting an education of what she liked. He suddenly realized that another commercial possibility for their ointment would be to obtain such information for boyfriends. They would probably really like knowing what their girlfriends' liked, thereby impressing them with their sexually sensitive skills, and he certainly wouldn't mind discovering this information, like a detective, for a reasonable fee. Of course, their clients would probably prefer that they make the observations themselves. 

Griffin knew he was going to cum this time. His balls were already pretty well seething and smoldering, and now they were really beginning to cook, building up a pretty large gruel of steamy cum. The only question was how soon, and where. He so much wanted to spray all over Janice's writhing body.

Janice gasped, "Griffin, fuck me, fuck me real hard."

Griffin froze in shock and then quickly crouched down, out of sight, behind the base of the bed. Did he in fact have to hide? He looked down at himself. He couldn't see anything. He was still invisible. How could she see him? It must have been an auditory hallucination, a very understandable one, given the situation. But, still, it was really terribly unnerving to hear her suddenly call out to him. He wondered if auditory hallucinations were a side effect of the cloaking, or if you eventually became psychotic the more you wore it. They hadn't really been able to test for that with the animals.

Janice's voice became more desperate, more pleading. "Griffin, please, won't you please fuck me?"

He wasn't hallucinating. This was for real. Janice was pleading to be fucked by him, the same girl who brushed him aside like he was just some ugly little toad who was beneath her dignity even to acknowledge. He carefully, cautiously, stood back up, to see Janice writhing, wiggling, shuddering, groaning and moaning on her bed, pleading for him to fuck her. What the fuck?

"I'll do anything," she whispered. "I'll suck you. Make me suck you, Griffin. Make me take it all the way down till I choke. I'm sure you have such a big, fat, thick, bull cock."

Could there be some other Griffin? How many Griffins could there be at Livingston College, and how many knew Janice? Yes, he was definitely going to cum this time, and apparently she might even like him splashing his load all over her.

"I want you to cum in me, Griffin, please, please. I want to feel your cock twitch and jerk and squirt in me, filling me up with your manly cream. You have so much, so much. It'll feel so good. Oh Griffin!" she gasped, feeling herself getting real close. She flipped herself over on her stomach, raised her bottom up, and pulled down her panties, down to her thighs, revealing to his eyes that lovely round bottom and cunnie mound. She slid one finger up into her cunt. Her other hand came around from the other side and slid down the crack of her butt until she found the other hole, which she began to caress and tickle with the tip of her finger.

It all seemed so terribly absurd, so terribly unrealistic. How could this possibly be true? How could this possibly be happening? Janice, who treated him like a turd, masturbating to the fantasy of him fucking her. Actually, more than just fucking her, she wanted him to abuse her (which he was more than willing to do). But, then again, which was more unrealistic, being invisible or having the stuck-up Janice masturbate to fantasies about him? The latter was certainly much more believable than the former, wasn't it? If he could believe his invisibility, he shouldn't certainly believe in this. He really shouldn't be so judgmental.

"Please don't fuck me there, Griffin," Janice pleaded, continuing to caress her anus while she fingered her cunt, which was now making all sorts of slushy slurpy sounds, as her finger plunged in and out while her thumb continued to work on her clit. "I can't do that, Griffin. I've never done it there. It's too embarrassing. Please! Don't even look!" She gasped, "That's my poopy hole. It's just so naughty and nasty and dirty."

Yes, it was, but it was also so very cool, sexy, and hot. He resumed stroking his cock with a renewed vengeance. This was better than any fantasy he could have imagined.

"And, you're just so terribly too big, Griffin. You'll hurt me if you put it in there. It'll never fit. I've never had a penis, a cock, so big, so manly."

Her bottom writhed, her hips humped up and down on her finger.

His hand plunged up and down his shaft, ignoring entirely the sounds he made as he was pretty much being drowned out.

"No, no, no!" She squealed, as she shoved the other finger up her butt. "Please, stop, Griffin. Stop, stop, this is so humiliating, so wrong, shameful! Griffin up my butt! No, no, no, you're just so big, so embarrassing! I'm going to cum! I'm going to cum! Please don't make me cum this way!"

He now understood it. She liked being embarrassed, degraded, used, and abused, and what better person to inflict such humiliation than him. Was it really so surprising that a woman who enjoyed debasing others would harbor such dark fantasies herself? And, what would be more debasing and demeaning than for the guy who fucks her up the butt to be him, Griffin, the little toad.

"No, please don't do that. Don't cum on me, Griffin. That's so degrading. Please don't squirt your sticky, hot, slimy slop on me. Please, please. I'll swallow it, I'll swallow it. I promise I will, just don't squirt it on me."

Yes, he would most definitely cum tonight. He would spray his load all over her butt and then dash from the room. His balls pulled tight against him.

She would see the door open as he left but she would not see him, although perhaps it would help her climax if she thought it was him. Maybe he should say something? He looked down at his cock, or at least where it was, smiling at the thought of seeing it's load gush and spray onto her jutting ass. Yes, she would in fact really like this. Imagine having the reality suddenly enter your fantasy in the midst of a climax. Just as you were about to cum, thinking about a very special girl taking it in her mouth, she suddenly appears in your room, her mouth wrapped around your cock. What could be better than that?

He looked down to watch his cum jettison from his cock onto her butt, as he knew he was just about there. But, his smiled quickly disappeared when he realized that he could indeed see something, something more than just his cum. The cloaking was wearing off!

It didn't just suddenly lose its effectiveness. That was fortunate. The negative refraction deteriorates slowly, first evident by an odd distortion of light. It was very much like how the Predator would occasionally appear in that movie, of the same name: a sort of wavy, odd distortion of light, as if perhaps something was merged with the environment but one couldn't precisely make it out.

Griffin felt his breathing stop, and panic sweep over him. This was not good. No, this was bad; real, real bad. What an idiot! He might like Janice to suddenly appear in his bedroom fantasy, her mouth wrapped around his cock, but he seriously doubted that Janice would react the same way, with him suddenly appearing naked at the end of her bed, his stiff dick spurting out loads of cum. He had been out much too long. He should have gone directly back to the lab after the sorority house, but he had gotten greedy or, more accurately, horny. His cock, like the divining rod that it was, had led him to Janice's bedroom, drawn by the magnetism of her butt, and he had lost complete track of time.

No, he would not cum, not tonight, not now. There was no way he was going to shoot his load with the risk of actually being seen, being recognized, as the cloaking wore further away.

He quickly backed his way over to the bedroom door and carefully, very quietly, undid the lock, and slowly opened the door. He slipped out into the hallway, took one last look at the writhing, gasping, pleading Janice, plunging one finger in and out of her ass while the other continued to work her clit.

He didn't shut the door. He left it wide open. He wouldn't be able to cum on her butt, not this night, not this time. But, he would at least have the last laugh. If someone came down the hall, Janice would present quite a sight and, even if nobody did, it would certainly confuse and concern her when she rolled back over to see the door wide open.

He rapidly made his way down the hall, but not to the elevator. He could not take a chance on the elevator. Many persons would be getting on to go down to the first floor, and the visual distortion was worsening. He would be readily evident to anyone on the elevator. He made his way instead to the stairs.

Fortunately, nobody ever seemed to use the stairs. Why get all that exercise when you don't have to? He moved quickly down the stairs, all the way down eight flights of stairs. He was breathing hard, his feet were making a tremendous amount of noise and he felt perspiration forming on his brow, adding more signs of his presence, which made him feel even more nervous, made him perspire even more.

When he got to the main floor he slowly pushed open the door to the lobby. It was largely empty, as it was now pretty late. But, the security guard was there.

Still, the guard was facing toward the front and wasn't paying much attention to anything going on behind him. His job was to screen people entering the dorm, not leaving it. And, besides, he actually wasn't even watching the door. He was instead reading a comic book. The story concerned Barry Allen, a police scientist who gained super-speed powers after a shelf filled with various chemicals was struck by lightning and bathed him with a super concoction. The security guard liked to collect comics. The job of a security guard was terribly, terribly boring. He was supposed to just sit there and stare at the same thing minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day. It was almost like he wanted something to happen, some kind of excitement to at least wake him up.

And, Griffin gave it to him. He dashed from the stairwell, across the lobby, and banged out through the front door.

The security guard yelled, "Hey!" and leaped from his chair, charged out the door, and ran after him. Or, actually, was it a "him"? He wasn't even sure what he saw, if anything. It all happened so fast. It was like just a blur, just like Flash, the guy in the comic book. He didn't know what to think. In any case, now that he was outside of the building, in the dark of night, he couldn't see "him," or whomever or whatever it was.

Griffin had dashed into the darkest corner he could find as soon as he exited the dorm. The darker it was, the less refraction that was needed. On the other hand, the less light there was, the less light that could be refracted, and the more easily he could in fact be seen. The cloaking had no effect whatsoever in pitch dark, but nobody could see you any way if it was in fact pitch dark. In any case, being in the dark was a natural cloak, and he quickly, very quickly, stole his way back across campus to the laboratory, his dick wilting and his balls aching.




The Invisible (Young) Man



He made it back to the lab safely, most of the time by simply running. He considered moving more stealthfully, but time was not on his side. No, time was terribly much against him. He figured as long as he moved fast, nobody would get a clear picture of the unclear distortion that was him.

When he got back to the lab he briefly considered relieving the strain in his balls. But, he was also feeling too nervous, too upset. And, well, besides, the lab was not a particularly erotic environment. Jerking off in a girl's bedroom while she is masturbating is perfectly natural, but jerking off in a laboratory filled with chemicals, test tubes, bunsen burners, spectrophotometers, tongs, pipet bulbs, and calorimeters, seemed a bit perverted. And, imagine getting caught jerking off in Dr. Kemp's lab? He probably wouldn't like that. Perhaps most importantly, he had a plan for the next day, and he need the motivation, the incentive, the will power, to see it through.

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The next day he yearned for relief, and he knew from whom he wanted to receive it. His nighttime dreams had been filled with her, and he twice woke up from a fantasy dream involving Janice. He had considered jerking off beneath the covers, but he sorely doubted that his roommate would appreciate that.

He waited patiently in the quad for Janice's eventual arrival. This was in fact precisely where he had asked her out once before, as she always cut across the quad this time of the day, heading to her biology class.

He was much more confident this time, or at least hopeful. This time he knew her secret. He knew she was yearning for him, pleading for him to fuck her like a bitch in heat. She wanted him, and she wanted him bad. That was so cool. He smiled in expectant, gleeful anticipation.

And then there she was, striding across the commons, textbooks held against her breasts, all confident, sexy, and alluring. She was wearing a particularly short skirt today. It was a very nicely sunny spring day. She probably enjoyed the feel of the spring air caressing her thighs as her skirt flipped and waved.

"Janice! Janice!" Griffin exclaimed when she reached him. "You got a second?"

She stopped and scowled. "What for? Hurry up, I'm late for biology."

He was a bit taken aback by that. He knew that she wasn't late at all. But, he was not to be deterred. Being the only person in the world capable of becoming invisible does provide you with a higher sense of power and self-confidence, plus his balls ached for satisfaction, for relief. "Hey, well, like," although once he started talking, the words didn't just flow. "Um, like, I was wondering if you would like to go to a movie, or something." She didn't answer right away. He added, "sometime."

She smiled and shook her head in disbelief. "Oh my gosh," she replied, "the little toad is back."

He could feel the blood rushing into his face.

She added disdainfully, "Wasn't I sufficiently clear the first time? Or, perhaps, you even got rejected by the wrestlers?" She chuckled and walked off, not even letting him have the opportunity to reply.

Griffin was at first stunned, as well as dismayed. But, it didn't take him long to figure it out, or at least speculate, that the fact she masturbated to fantasies about him didn't necessarily suggest she actually wanted to in fact have sex with him. The whole point of the fantasy was to pretend to be demeaned by having sex with him. That didn't necessarily mean she actually wanted his company on a date. She might privately pretend to have sex with toads, to fulfill a perverse private pleasure, but she wasn't about to publicly date one in real life. She obviously did not find him attractive. On the contrary, she found him disgusting, which was precisely why he was good for her fantasy, but not for her reality. Griffin was crestfallen, and embarrassed at his stupidity. He was, once again, publicly humiliated.

But his embarrassment quickly turned to annoyance, and then the desire for revenge. He immediately left for the lab. Dr. Kemp had not yet conducted sufficient research to understand the long-term consequences of the cloaking lotion. One might expect there to be some sort of side effects of such a potent lotion if it was applied too frequently. But, Griffin was now on a mission. He again bathed himself in the thick liquid, double and triple checking that every inch, every centimeter, was covered, and then headed back onto campus, going directly to Janice's biology class, his balls turning blue with passion, with desire.

He waited outside, behind the sculpture of the human cell. It was a pretty safe place to avoid contact with anyone, as nobody ever stopped to look at it.

When he saw her leave, he carefully followed her. It was at first difficult, particularly inside the building where there were a number of students. He realized that he should have been waiting for her outside the building. He had to walk up real close to the person in front of him, as the person behind him kept entering his physical space. As a result, he occasionally bumped the person in front, but fortunately the person never turned around to say anything.

Once he was outside of the building the people dispersed and he was able to get directly behind Janice.

He didn't know where she was going or what he would do when she got there, but he was certainly going to follow her. This time he would even follow her into a lavatory.

He flipped up the back of her skirt, revealing her soft round bottom tightly encased in her aquamarine cotton panties.

Janice quickly reached behind her with her left hand to push the skirt back down, glancing back to see if anyone had seen her skirt flip up. It was indeed a bit breezy, but she didn't think it was that bad. It was frankly a bit embarrassing, as it felt like it had really flipped up quite high. And, it did appear that a group of boys behind her had seen it happen, as they had pretty big grins on their faces. She gave them a brief scowl and continued on her way, periodically reaching back to check that her skirt was still down.

But, Griffin wouldn't leave it in peace. As soon as he felt he had another good opportunity, he flipped her skirt up again, smiling with mischievous pleasure at his boyish prank, as well as the sight of her pretty panty bottom.

"Hey!" Janice exclaimed, turning suddenly and swinging her left hand. That didn't feel like a breeze, and she quickly looked around in all directions for the culprit, but she didn't see anyone. There wasn't anyone anywhere near close enough to be the culprit, but she couldn't help but feel that it had in fact been someone.

The boys behind her laughed openly, both at the reprise of the panty show and her obvious discomfort and confusion.

She waited for them and glared as they approached. Perhaps one of them did it? But, they had been so far behind her. There was no way that one of them could have done it and run back to the pack that quickly. She looked to see if they had some sort of air gun, or something.

"It's a little breezy today," one of them said, as they passed her on the walkway.

"Yea, right," she responded sarcastically, shifting her books to her left hand, using her right hand to hold down her skirt.

Griffin was standing a few feet away, on the grass. He had almost got hit when Janice suddenly swung around. He was, for the moment, keeping his distance.

Janice resumed her walk after the boys passed. They might not have had anything to do with it, but she was still suspicious and, besides, she didn't really want to feel their eyes on her bottom. This time she kept her skirt pulled down with her right hand.

Griffin was disappointed. He was apparently done with flipping up her skirt. However, he knew he wasn't done with her. He followed safely behind her.

It was such a nice day that Janice decided to spend at least some time in the park by the humanities building. Frankly, after the rather flustering embarrassment with her skirt, it would be nice to just relax a bit in the spring air. She found a nice spot on the side of a hill where she could comfortably catch some of the afternoon rays. She was also sufficiently distant from the sidewalk that there was little noise to distract her. All she could hear was the sound of birds chirping, the leaves rustling. The sun felt so good on her skin, so warm, so toasty, that she soon felt calm, comfortable, and even sleepy. She let her mind drift off as she luxuriated in the warm, spring, soothing afternoon. She felt so much better.

She smiled as she thought about Griffin asking her out. He was such a doofus. Imagine if he knew about her secret sex fantasies. He would be so shocked, and excited. She briefly imagined someday actually doing him, but then quickly shuddered away that thought. It was one thing to have a fantasy; it was another thing to actually do it. A fantasy is a place to think about doing things that in reality would really be quite wrong, perhaps even distasteful or abhorrent. Having sex with Griffin was one of them.

As she drifted away into sleep, Griffin watched and waited, waiting for his opportunity. She looked really quite sexy, lying on her back, her head cradled in her hands, her breasts rising up so nicely with her upraised arms, and her very pretty, alluring thighs peeking out from beneath her skirt.

Janice imagined other boys doing dirty, naughty things to her, as she lay on the hill, her breasts rising and falling with her increasing arousal, her pussy growing as warm as the sun felt on her cheeks.

She imagined the boy telling her to lift her skirt up in the commons and to walk across the campus for everyone to see. It was a very naughty fantasy, a very naughty dream. At the moment, it wasn't really clear if she was dreaming, or fantasizing, as she could feel her consciousness, her self-awareness, drift in and out, as she became lost in her daydream, in her reverie, her other world.

Griffin knelt beside her, feeling his cock rising before him, as he slowly lifted up the front of Janice's skirt, letting her soft, aquamarine panties be bathed by the sun, as well as by his eyes. He carefully laid the top of her skirt against her abdomen, so softly that she would hopefully not notice. His dick rose back up to full strength, a rather odd feeling to feel it growing but not actually being able to see it.

Once having successfully laid the skirt back over her abdomen, he sat back down on his heels and admired his work. Her panties were so terribly cute and evocative, as they stretched quite tightly over her mound. One could even see the outline of her slit along the soft, fleshy rise of her cunnie pot.

If anyone did happen to notice her, they would think that a sudden breeze had flipped up her skirt, and that the poor girl, who apparently had fallen asleep, was simply unaware of the accident. And, a few students did indeed notice, pointing, giggling, whispering, as they walked by. Some boys even stopped to admire the sight of the girl's green panties glowing in the sun light (to them, they just looked green). Those boys accompanied by girls were pulled away, and even boys who were by themselves walked on. It did seem a bit inconsiderate to take advantage of her that way.

Janice felt the increased heat as the sun baked her cunnie. She sighed with pleasure, attributing the warmth to the heat generated by the pleasure of her fantasies. She imagined that a boy was in fact playing with her pussy, through her panties, right there on the hill, in front of everyone, making her sigh, moan, and squirm with pleasure right before their eyes.

Griffin leaned back over again and cautiously reached out, gently, lightly, placing his finger tips on the lips, on the slit, that was outlined by the soft cotton of Janice's panties.

She did not flinch. She didn't even open her eyes. She just sighed with obvious pleasure, and even parted her thighs, just a bit, or at least Griffin thought that perhaps she did.

Janice so much enjoyed that state of mind when you were still half-dreaming, half-awake. You weren't really entirely sure. Sometimes the dream would really be a nightmare, and she would be so happy to emerge, to realize that it was only a dream, but it might take a few seconds to tell the difference.

But, many more times it was a wonderful dream, a dream that promised so much, if only it would last to its fruition, and she never did want it to end until it did. Sometimes it was a very sexual dream. Some of the most silly ones were dreams in which she had to be a naked model in front of a class, displaying for the boys the human female sexual anatomy, and then even the female orgasm, if the dream was allowed to go that far. That was really quite absurd, of course. How could that ever really happen? Or, it might be a dream in which the school photographer was taking advantage of her, making her take off all her clothes and do dirty things. When she awoke from that dream she felt quite silly. She even once dreamed that a professor spanked her for using her cell phone, and even eventually took her from behind. Or, it just might be a dream in which was she being forcibly taken, perhaps by many boys. In real life this would of course be very scary, and traumatic, but in her fantasy world, in her dream states, it was just frighteningly, scintillatingly, lustfully, lovingly wonderful and, as she drifted back into consciousness, she would try so hard to hold onto those dreams, to let them bring her to her natural climax. Masturbating to a fantasy was one thing, but dreaming it was so, so much more real.

For some reason, though, she would invariably wake up before her orgasm. Perhaps the increasing level of excitement was just too much to sustain a sleep state. She didn't know, but she sure didn't like it. She was literally being snatched away during one of the most wonderful moments of life, just before the climactic peak was reached.

As she felt herself slowly emerging into consciousness, becoming conscious that she was dreaming and perhaps beginning to awake, she would attempt to maintain herself in the dream state, trying to continue the dream. To do so, she would lay completely still. Any movement would compel a full awakening. This was itself quite frustrating, as she would naturally want to touch herself, to play with herself, as she went deeper into the dream. But, to do what would perhaps help most to bring her to orgasm would also destroy the very dream that had brought her to that point, the dream she so much wanted to take to fruition, to discover what wonderful delights were at the end of this dream. So, she lay still and did her best to maintain the dissociative, hypnagogic state.

And, now, she did indeed feel herself once again within such a moment: a most wonderfully real feeling moment, lost in her dream yet seeming to actually feel the touch of the boy on her panties, on her pussy, right there on the hill. But, of course, it could not in fact be a real boy, as she was alone, entirely alone. She felt an impulse to open her eyes, to check, just to be sure, but she knew there would be nobody there, and doing so would only ruin this wondrously dreamy moment. She gave herself over to her dream, and to the boy's finger, feeling him softly caress her cunnie through her panties as she lay on the hill, exposing herself, her panties, to all the boys who began to gather below to watch.

Griffin softly slid his finger up and down Janice's slit. She might not let him do this in real life, but she would do so in invisible life, and it was definitely just as fun, perhaps even more so, as he sorely doubted that she, or any girl, would let him play with her pussy through her panties right out in the open air.

Janice softly moaned, her breathing becoming more rapid, her breasts rising and falling, her hands clenched, and her bottom squirming in the grass. The boys at the bottom of the hill were speechless; the girls were shocked.

Janice was oblivious to the fact that she was putting on a rather lascivious show, at least oblivious to the reality of the show. In her fantasy she was indeed putting on a very lewd, prurient exhibition, with the help of a boy's finger, but in her mind it was a dream, where such fantasies could be realized without any real cost, and yet with a very realistic experience. If only one could live in one's dreams, life would be so much sweeter. Janice could feel the blood coursing through her loins as she approached her climax, a most embarrassing and humiliating climax it would be, of course, in front of a bunch of boys gawking up at her squirming body. She so hoped that she would not wake up. 'Please,' she thought, 'not this time, let me cum to fruition at least once.'

Griffin could feel her moisture seeping through her panties and he smiled, being sure to keep his lips sealed as he slid his finger up her seeping lips to her button, and softly pressed against it, working his finger around and around against her clit.

Janice lifted her pelvis up against the imaginary finger. It was a dangerous move, as it might cause her to awaken, but it was an instinctive move, the move that occurred within her dream. Perhaps, though, in fact, in reality, she was not actually lifting her pelvis up. She was only doing so in her dream, and in this dream, this boy suddenly pulled her panties down, exposing her personal private place to any and everyone boy who happened to be passing by. She smiled to herself, realizing that it was indeed a dream, as no boy would, or was, actually doing that.

Griffin had indeed suddenly grasped hold of the waistband of Janice's panties, pulling them down off her pretty shaved slit, past her thighs, to her knees, and then hurriedly backing away from her along the grass, expecting her to suddenly lash out, as she had done before.

She did not lash out, but she did suddenly open her eyes when she heard a boy yelling, and others laughing. She gasped as she saw her panties down at her knees. She sat straight up to verify that it had indeed been a dream. There was no boy there, but it had felt so real, and to her surprise, shock, and embarrassment, her skirt was bunched up at her waist and worse, her panties were indeed at her knees. It was not a dream? Which was it? Her bare, naked, wet, glistening shaved cunnie was fully exposed to the boys walking by, who now applauded with comparable surprise but also delight.

The boys did not know how she had managed to have her panties fall down like that. They saw them go down as if someone was actually pulling them down. It was probably the best magic trick they had ever seen (Dr. Kemp could perhaps include that in his magic show) and they were most appreciative of the girl's skill and dexterity. This was one talented girl.

And a very embarrassed, confused one. It was a dream. There was no guy within twenty feet of her, yet her panties were in reality down at her knees. She quickly tossed her skirt back down, bent forward, and pulled up her panties, her face red and warm, but no longer from the sun. She grabbed her books, and dashed off.

She was in any case somewhat late for her appointment with Ms. Thompson, a humanities professor. As she hurried along, the sound of the applause burning in her reddened ears gradually diminishing behind her, she tried to make sense of what just happened. She wondered if, in her dream-like state, she had pulled her panties down herself. There was such a thing as sleep-walking. It would hardly be a stretch of the imagination for there to be as well sleep-stripping. Perhaps in her lustful reverie she had pulled them down, dreaming that it was the boy, but the movement woke her up, just as her panties reached her thighs.

Well, thank goodness she did wake up. Imagine the embarrassment if the dream had continued. But, still, as a dream, it had been so wonderful, so real, so exciting, so arousing. Her steps quickened to Ms. Thompson's office, whom she very much now wanted to visit.