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Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: Second Best
Part: 083
Universe: Second Best
Summary: A fulllength novel that follows several young couples and their
families through the period immediately preceding their Senior Prom.
Keywords: MF mf oral exhib

Keywords for full story: Fsolo, Ffinc, MF Ffm MF mf oral anal bd D/s Mg
inc Fminc mm mmf rom MFreluc

Chapter 83
Wednesday

Hump day arrived, finding people scattered all over the landscape.
Jennifer Hardesty lugged her tired body out of bed at the rattle of the
alarm, and went to awaken Jackie, basically on autopilot. Jackie reminded
her of their guest, "Are you gonna wake Terry up?" she queried sleepily.

"Oh! Yeah, I guess..." Jennifer hobbled across the hall and tapped on
the door. No response. Terry was a heavy sleeper, and exhaustion and
strange surroundings had added to the problem. Jennifer stuck her head in
the door to find him lying on his back with his forearm across his eyes,
snoring gustily. He'd thrown off the blankets during the night (Jennifer
liked it warm) and his boxers were tented impressively by his morning
erection. Jennifer took one look, squeaked "Omigod!" and backed into the
hall, where she stood, shaking. Turning to Jackie, she chickened out
totally. "Uh, perhaps YOU should awaken him, Dear. He's, uh, well, not
responding to me..."

Jackie stuck her head through the door and drew back, grinning. "I
don't know, Mom that looks like several inches worth of reaction..."

Jennifer blushed. "That was already there!" she declared.

"Okay, I've got it." Jackie started through the door.

"Let me know what you two want for breakfast!" Jennifer hobbled out
of there.

Jackie closed the door behind her. "Momma may not know what to do with
that, but I do!" she whispered to herself, climbing onto the bed.

Terry was having the most incredible dream! He was on a boat,
and...Things shifted and drifted, and suddenly, there was Jackie, settling
onto his cock. Her pussy was incredibly warm and wet, if not quite as tight
as expected maybe it was the teeth... Teeth? Terry sat bolt upright,
gazing into the laughing eyes of his girlfriend as she swallowed his
erection. Wide awake, he hissed, "Your mother is going to have a heart
attack!"

Jackie pulled off long enough to whisper, "Not if we're quick!" The
ovalled lips recaptured his erection.

"Uhhh! Ditch your panties and swing around here, then..." Terry
directed.

Jackie did so, dropping across his chest. Terry's arms came up and
parted her labia so he could drive his tongue into her channel, and Jackie
started making urgent squeals around Terry's embedded cock.

They weren't quick enough. Jennifer found them five minutes later.
Jackie was wearing an allover arousal blush and shaking like a leaf as she
screamed out her second orgasm, her cream coating Terry's face as he suckled
her clitoris. Of course, there wasn't much noise, because she had driven
Terry's cock so deep into her throat that her nose was buried in his
scrotum! Terry was just arching his back, Jackie's humming cries having
brought him to peak, when Jennifer stepped through the door.

Jennifer stood there for five full seconds, taking it all in before
she burst out, "You two weren't supposed to I gotta go!" She staggered
back out into the hall, and leaned against the wall to try to catch her
suddenly shortened breath. Her pussy felt like it had been doused with
itching powder, and her nipples were rock hard!

From the guest room drifted Terry's aggrieved voice, "Honey, I TOLD
you we'd get caught! Just when she was finally getting used to me, she
finds you with my cock down your throat! What're we gonna do now?"

"Ooogh! God, that was good! I dunno, but it was worth it, even if I
have to move out! Where did you learn to use that tongue? It was heaven!"
Jackie replied. "I'll go take the blame when I can move again after all,
I started it! Hopefully, she'll just yell a lot..."

Jennifer lurched up and yelled through the door, "Forget it! I...give
up! Just get moving, or you'll both be late for school!" She gathered
herself and hobbled away, leaving the pair staring at each other, open
mouthed.

Two very sheepish teens entered the kitchen fifteen minutes later.
"Sorry, Mom," Jackie apologized.

Jennifer favored her with a neutral glance. "You should be," she
declared. "I found the sight of the pair of you very... unsettling!" In
fact, she had not yet been able to categorize all of the reactions that had
flooded through her at the sight. Some VERY old and pleasant memories were
surfacing, however without the usual cargo of guilt. "I guess I'll just
have to get used to it, though; trying to stop the pair of you is like
braving a tidal wave with an umbrella!"

Jackie and Terry exchanged one of their signature glances, ('What got
into her?')('Don't look a gift horse in the mouth!'), and moved to the table
for breakfast.


Merry snapped off the alarm before it got going good, yawned,
stretched, and slid around to where she could maneuver under the covers to
Robert's crotch. Carefully, she exposed his (for once) flaccid penis and
began laving his balls with her tongue. Consciousness came rapidly to
Robert, and he sighed in contentment before pulling her away for a kiss.
"Best leave well enough alone," he announced, "we've got a couple of extra
mouths to feed!" After a long kiss and enough caresses that he grew a hard
on anyway, Robert popped Merry on the butt and directed, "Go wake everyone
up, Wench!"

Merry feigned a pout, but was smiling as she swayed out. She stuck
her head into Rick's room, and two tousled heads appeared to her
announcement that it was time to get up. Crossing the hall, she threw open
the door to Dina's room. "You, too, sl?" Dina wasn't there. Turning, she
made her way downstairs, and into the den. Sure enough, there were two
bodies entwined on the couch. "There you are!" Merry exclaimed. As two
heads came up, she fixed her eye on Bobby and added, "Adding cradlerobbing
to rapine on the list of your skills?"

Bobby blushed scarlet, but Dina was unperturbed. "He's the Pied Piper
but he only supplies the flute. I'm the one who plays it!" she declared
with an impish grin.

"You were supposed to be upstairs in your room!" Merry chided.

"And that's supposed to keep me safe? We'd have all been more
comfortable if you'd sent Bobby there, too!" was Dina's reply.

"Well, you can't have everything. We're TRYING to provide a proper
environment here..."

"Said the sex slave..." Dina stuck her tongue out.

"...To the precocious brat who triggered the situation! I should know
better you're incorrigible! Go get ready for school. Be sure to show
Bobby where everything is."

Merry turned away, but spun back when Dina began "Okay. These are my
tits, and..."

"Dina! You imp! Get him to the bathroom and show him where the
toothbrushes and such are! He's no doubt seen that other stuff!"

"Think your mother blames me for last night?" Bobby queried.

"Nah. It was Pop's idea; you were just the tool he used. She'll want
to cover the whole thing over, I bet. If you don't mention it, she won't
either."

"Whew! Good! Don't you think we'd better find a bathroom? There are
a lot of people here this morning..." The pair got up and made their way to
the downstairs bath. Once Bobby was settled, Dina dashed upstairs.

Robert presided over the quick, cerealbased breakfast, grinning.
Merry got everyone eating and settled into the ready position next to his
chair, so Robert turned it and had her back up to it, leaning back between
his legs for a bit of kissing and caressing before he dismissed her to dress
for work. On her way out, he noticed an odd look on her face, and that her
asscheeks were clenched, so he called her back, "Merry! What's THAT all
about?"

Merry blushed. "It itches."

Robert blinked. "Your ass itches?"

Merry nodded. "Remember when I was carrying Dina, and I got..."

"Oh!" Robert laughed. "You gonna be okay?"

"You just woke it up last night." Merry smiled. "Actually, I think it
added a dimension!"

"What ARE you talking about?" Dina was fascinated.

"Only the fact that even before you were born, you were literally a
pain in your mother's ass!" Robert responded. Gales of laughter erupted.

Merry regarded Dina fondly. "Pregnancy brings all kinds of problems:
stretch marks, varicose veins, hemorrhoids..."

"Oh!" Dina blushed. More laughter followed, mostly from the males.

"Your father tickled an old injury last night... I've got to go find
some cream for it, if we have any..."

"You're lucky I don't make you put up with it. What a divine
punishment!" Robert leered.

"Definitely cruel and unusual. I hope you're not...?" Merry
responded.

"Run along and take care of it. Enough is enough. Go get dressed."

Somehow, everyone got out the door on time. Robert's inspection of
Merry was cursory; she apparently had the concepts down pat. "I'll be
calling Bert," he reminded her. "Make sure he knows it's coming, and that
it's NOT threatening."

"I will, Master."


The raucous buzz of Big Al's alarm awakened Helen. It took her a
moment to figure out where she was; the surroundings, barely familiar under
artificial light from her minimalist exposure the previous evening, were
even more alien in daylight. The brawny arm draped across below her breasts
provided her with a focal point from which to orient. She turned to face
her bedpartner, who was slowly opening one eye and groaning. "I'm not a
morning person!" Al complained. "Puhleez shut that damned thing off!"

Helen picked the clamoring clock up off the nightstand, and after a
moment's examination, divined its controls and hit the proper button.
"Thank God!" Al cried, and proceeded to drape himself across Helen's chest.

Helen automatically brought up an arm and began to run her fingers
through his short hair. "Are you going to get up? I have to go to work!"

"Hmph. I do, too. With Mike out, I'll be busy for a few days. And I
have to meet that Hardesty woman at 9:00."

"Sounds like you don't like her," Helen observed.

"I'm scared of her. She's a skinny bitch. And she's apparently set
her cap for Mike!" Al declared.

"Maybe Mike LIKES 'skinny bitches'," Helen replied. "Maybe they'll be
good for each other."

"Maybe," Al grunted. "Not her fault there was an accident. But she
seems like a wacko to me!"

"Well, I wouldn't claim that she's well adjusted but Mike's got all
of the necessary tools to fix the problem. Since he's decided he wants to
try, why don't we wait and see?" Helen ventured.

"Yeah. Okay." Al began rubbing a hand along Helen's flank. "Damn!
I brought you home for an evening of just the two of us, and all Hell broke
loose! Between nursing Mike and having to cover his workload, I'm not gonna
have much time to see you for a couple of days, either!" he sulked.

"Well, why don't I help?" Helen asked. "I work days this week; I
could come over in the evening and make sure everybody gets fed and such..."

"Shit, that'd be great!" Al rose up and met her eyes, "You don't
mind, do you?"

"No, I don't mind." Helen smiled, and Al leaned in to kiss her.

"Good!" he announced, "there probably isn't time to do anything much
this morning, and I was NOT looking forward to doing without you for several
days!"

"Hey!" Helen protested, "I promised to feed you and look after Mike,
not haul your ashes!" Al's face drooped, and she grinned, "I will,
though...Are you SURE we don't have time to do anything?"

They did.


Soon, everyone had made it to their respective school or workplace and
settled down for the day.

The accident was big in the minds of those peripherally involved, and
relating the tale to Dolores, Denise, and the Vincent brothers consumed most
of the available time before the first bell for those at school. Terry's
overnight at Jackie's was a general surprise; Bobby showed considerable
restraint in not mentioning Merry's 'punishment session' something Dina
noted with some approval. Mandi and Rick never thought to mention it.

Merry, however, still had some items to deal with. On arrival, she
stuck her head in Bert's office. "Bert? Can I have a quick word with you?"

'Here it comes!' thought Bert. "Yes, Marilyn?"

Merry hung her head a bit. "Robert is going to call you this morning.
I ask that you take it. It won't be threatening, or anything, I promise!"

Bert sighed, "Am I about to lose an assistant?"

"No, I don't think so. Robert feels that he needs to clarify a few
things. I rather think that the conversation will surprise you!" Merry
asserted.

"Hmmph. That'd be different. All right, I won't pretend absence. I
hope we didn't do anything irrevocable yesterday! I'm very happy with you,
even without any fringe benefits!" Bert declared.

"I think things are going to be okay. In fact, I think Robert is
going to explain why..."

"Maybe this IS going to be an interesting conversation!" Bert murmured
as Merry let herself out.


Al dropped Helen at McGinty's and circled back to pick up Jennifer,
the pickup seat not really comfortable for three and assorted paraphernalia.
When he arrived at Hardesty's, Jennifer was waiting on the step. She
climbed meekly into the cab, and Al set the vehicle in motion. After a
moment, she asked, "Is there any news about Mike?"

"No," Al replied, "the doctors haven't come around yet. The nurses
figure Mike will come home about noon, one way or another."

"Can I see him this evening?" At Al's suspicious glance, she asked,
"You don't blame me for his injury, do you? I feel awful, and I'm sure my
insurance will pay..."

"Naw, it's not that. Some trucker's at fault, and Mike was doin' his
job. I'm more worried about your track record with men. It ain't pretty,
I'm told. Wanna tell me about it?"

Jennifer quenched the automatic bristle at a man prying into her
personal affairs and worked at being honest. "I, uh, actually don't have
much of one. When I was fifteen, I fell hard for a guy who well, took
advantage of my innocence, I guess. We had a short relationship that ended
when I happily announced that I was pregnant, and he responded that I was
nothing more to him that some freely available openings for him to have sex
with. My parents were awful, Dad especially; called me a slut and kicked me
out. I took it hard, and Jackie's been my reason for living ever since.
Men and relationships were easy to avoid I had a child. Putting myself
out there to be hurt again, well, I couldn't do it. A couple of years ago,
Jackie went off to a party with some upperclen, and they got her high
and then tried to gangbang her. She managed to weasel out of the worst of
it, but they gave her a reputation, anyway. I've been overprotective,
since, and it's been hard on her, living with my paranoia... I know I've
been going too far, but something just comes over me... Recently Terry's
started coming around, and I've come to realize that he's everything she
could ever want but I gave them a lot of trouble at the start. It's tough
believing that men aren't going to leave you high and dry, based on my
experience."

"So what's with Mike?" Al growled.

"I honestly DON'T KNOW! He was just there, at the truck he scared me
to death when he appeared there, behind me. I screamed bloody murder did
he tell you that?! I was cold, and wet, and my blouse was in shreds I
thought I was going to be raped! One look at his face, after the scream,
and I knew better, though. Anyway, he just moved right in and started
taking care of me. He gave me his jacket, and helped me warm up... Then the
truck came, and I ended up lying on top of him. I knew he was hurt, but he
just kept rubbing my back and murmuring to me... It seems like I hadn't felt
protected like that since I was about three. I cried, and he told me it
would be all right..."

"So what happened at the hospital?" Al wasn't quite as gruff.

"I made a fool of myself. I went to see him, to thank him. Anyway,
for some reason, I bent over to kiss him. It was nice. He didn't push it,
and, well, it had been a long time since I'd done anything like that I
just didn't feel like stopping right away! After a couple of minutes, he
wrapped his arms around me, and that was it! I got that warm, protected
feeling again, and I I wanted it to go on, real bad! I didn't even think
about what I was doing, I just crawled up there and snuggled up to him! I'd
have crawled under his shirt, I think." By now, she was sniffling.

Al pulled up to the garage and parked, then turned in the seat to face
Jennifer. "Look here, girl! There's no doubt that you're overdue to find a
good man. The question is, 'Is Mike that man?' I don't know, and I don't
think you do, either; there's a bunch of reasons why everybody that saw you
two last night is nervous, not the least of which is the fact that you don't
seem to have everything under control too well."

"Well, I'm not some kind of flake..." Jennifer blustered.

""No, but you're sittin' on an emotional powder keg! Missy, most of
your problems come from years and years of selfdenial. You need a man,
bad! And I'm proud of Mike; he's a good boy! But he ain't superman; he's
young, he doesn't date much he probably has as little experience with
women as you do with men! What happens when he screws up? What happens if
he just decides that you two have no future together? Face it: You're not
looking for casual romance. What if he doesn't measure up?" Al didn't let
up. "You damn near resigned from the human race the first time what will
you do if it doesn't pan out?"

Jennifer was openly blubbering. "I won't hurt him, I promise!"

"Honey, we're not worried about Mike. We're worried about YOU!"

Jennifer collapsed against the door, sobbing. Al sat there for a
second, then reached out with one of his big paws and drew her in. Jennifer
fought it for a moment, instinctively, until Al said, "Don't worry about it.
I'm not after ya. I don't like skinny bitches besides, I've got Helen.
Just let it all out." She collapsed against him and proceeded to soak his
shoulder.

After a bit, she leaned back and said, "This is what I was talking
about. You're bigger than Mike, but he seems to do it better."

"Glad to hear it," Al rumbled.

"II'll leave him alone, if that's what you want..." she husked.

"It's not. I just want you to think about what you're up to,
periodically, and not expect too much of Mike. You two will do whatever
you're gonna; I just want you both to survive the experience. Okay?" Al
rumbled.

"Okay!" Jennifer sniffled.

"Let's go find the damned insurance adjuster." Al opened the door,
and ushered Jennifer out through the driver's door.


Bert's intercom buzzed. "Robert Nellis on two," the receptionist
intoned.

"Fine, I'll take it," Bert replied. "Bertram Chalmers."

"Good morning, Bert. This is Robert Nellis. I'm calling about
yesterday's little show in your office."

"Okay, let's cut to the chase. I don't want to lose a good assistant
over this." Bert figured he'd better come on strong.

"I'm hoping that won't be necessary. I want to apologize. Merry
Marilyn exceeded her instructions. It wasn't my intent that she tease
you."

"What?" Bert's confusion surfaced.

"I intended that she brighten your day periodically with a little
flash of flesh. But Marilyn misunderstood, and delivered something just
short of a striptease. Now I feel that she led you on and chopped you off,
which isn't right!" Robert amplified.

"I'm afraid I don't understand. I expected to be in trouble for
talking her into displaying her charms..." Bert said, bewildered.

"Huh! Given the lead up, it's a wonder you didn't demand more than
that!" Robert responded. "Let me start at the beginning: Marilyn and I are
no longer a conventional husband and wife."

"No?"

"No. Marilyn is my slave. This is something she ASKED for not
coercion on my part. Ann knows; it's the reason behind the dress code
thing. And Alicia knows, because we've asked her to help make it as legal
as possible. I apologize for not selecting you, but we were afraid that it
would negatively impact your working relationship," Robert explained.

"Hmmm. Slave. That explains the instructions." Bert pondered.

"Exactly. I told her to loosen up with you, because I thought you'd
enjoy a little periodic casual stimulation. But we haven't been doing this
long, and Merry that's her slave name misunderstood or maybe I just
wasn't clear enough. In any case, she's been punished. I'm concerned about
whether it is now an issue in your working relationship, and what I should
do to compensate you for being teased!"

"You punished her?" Bert exclaimed.

"Yes. Someone else might have raped her. She needed to show some
sense!" Robert replied.

"Well, I don't consider that we have a problem. I enjoyed the episode
quite a bit. I enjoy seeing her in her new wardrobe, too. I don't see any
issues." Bert declared.

"Okay. I don't really see how I can retract her instructions; after
all, you've seen them now wouldn't be fair to withdraw them but I didn't
really plan on going much further..." Robert mused.

"That's okay, I never expected more," Bert assured him.

"It's still a tease. I feel like she led you on. You sure you're
okay with things as they are?"

"Oh, yes, no problem!" Bert paused. "Can I call her Merry?"

"In private. I'd prefer that only those in the know do so. It's kind
of a mark of distinction..."

"Certainly. No problem. Are Merry's current instructions clear to
her?" Bert asked.

Robert pondered. "Perhaps not. Would you call her in? And put me on
speaker?"

"Certainly." Bert did so. Merry entered the office. "Close the
door, Merry," Bert directed.

Merry did so, noting the change of address. Then her master's voice
came over the speaker, "Merry, Bert and I have reached an understanding, for
now. Having already provided him with an extended view of your breasts, you
may repeat this for him in private upon his request. There will be nothing
more without my permission, but you may display yourself to the limits
already defined. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master." Merry dimpled.

"Lock the door, and do it now."

"Yes, Master!" Merry went to the door and quietly set the lock, then
removed her blouse.

"What do you think of them, Bert?" Robert asked.

"I think they're quite incredible!" Bert exclaimed.

"Well, they're yours to look at. Perhaps some evening you can come
by the house for drinks or dinner, and we'll discuss other things."

"I'd like that!" Bert was beside himself.

"Fine. We'll look into it. Let Merry know when you're available.
I've got to go. Merry, let the man look until he's finished. I'll see you
tonight."

"'Bye, Master!" Merry replied.

Bert hung up the phone. "Go ahead and dress, Dear. I can only take
so much."

"Yes, Sir." Merry replied.

"Run along I need those briefs I gave you."

"Yes, Sir." Merry left. Bert sat back to conquer his amazement.


By the time Al and Jennifer appeared at McGinty's for lunch, Helen had
been thoroughly harassed by Flossie and the girls, and was somewhat
irritable. As they made their way back to the booth, one of the waitresses
leaned out and in a stage whisper, said, "Uh oh, who's that? Your
replacement?"

Jennifer, who had excellent hearing, turned and fixed the offender
with a glance, and said, "Not likely. Al doesn't like skinny bitches,"
provoking an embarrassed laugh from several of the witnesses, including
Helen.

Al raised an eyebrow. "They been givin' you a lot of shit?" At
Helen's mute angry nod, he gathered her into his arms and bent down to kiss
her.

"Al! Not here!" Helen started trying to fend him off, but it was
like working with granite.

"Shut up, woman, and shove me some mouth. You ain't getting away
until you do!" Al rumbled, rubbing her back while maintaining his grip,
despite her efforts.

Helen acquiesced, still angry, but it bled away over the next few
seconds. Al did a thorough job, ignoring where they were, and Helen
perforce forgot, melting into him. When he was finished, Al hugged Helen to
him, rubbing her back, and eyed Flossie over her shoulder. "Any questions?"
Flossie shook her head and disappeared into the kitchen. Al let go of Helen
and sat down across from Jennifer, who had arranged herself and her crutches
during the commotion. He looked up at Helen, and asked "What's for lunch,
Baby?"

Helen smiled, "I've no particular recommendations. Best to look at a
menu. Something to drink?" Eventually, they ordered burgers of various
types while bringing Helen up to date on the status of Jennifer's SUV. The
whack from the tractortrailer had caused a good $3000 in damage, mostly
bodywork. Al's people would do the work; Jennifer saw no reason to go
elsewhere, and the adjuster agreed.

"How's Mike?" Helen asked.

"He was okay, earlier. Doctors hadn't come around yet." Al replied.

Just then the phone squawked. It was Mike. "They stuck me in a
walking cast and gave me crutches, and said I can go home!" he announced.

"Hmmph. Is your leg broken?" Al wanted to know.

"It's kinda dented. Weird. They didn't have a word for it. Said it
would be weak for a couple of weeks, but it wasn't really broken. Just some
surface damage."

"Okay, we'll be up to get you." Al closed out the call.

"Why don't you take my car?" Helen offered. "A fourdoor has to be
easier on a couple of cripples..." She grinned.

Jennifer smiled. "I think I'm going to ditch the crutches while we're
there, but still..."

"Well, okay, if you don't mind..." Al said.

"Let me go get the keys." Helen headed for the back.

"I'd haul the crutches around for another couple of days, just to mess
with the insurance company," Al observed. "Do you get a rental car?"

"For a week and cheap!" Jennifer replied.

"Figures. I know a place. We'll go by later."

Helen came back with food and the keys. "Here you go," she said,
grinning, as she handed them to Al. "It's an automatic can you drive
that?"

Al pulled a face and went along with the gag, "Depends. Where's the
clutch?"

Oneupped, Helen had to think a bit. "On the floorboards, next to the
starter button!"

Al grinned, "Oh, okay! Does it have reverse?"

"Only on hills, if it's facing the right way!"

"Okay, you two it's getting deep around here!" Jennifer observed.

Helen grinned. "This all started when he discovered that I knew how
to drive that rolling anachronism of his outside. When's the last time you
saw a vehicle with a manual transmission that shifted on the steering
column?"

"Oh! I didn't notice!" Jennifer exclaimed.

"Well, it's kinda old, but nobody's gonna steal it." Al observed.

"That's for sure! Better leave me the keys, so I can get home."
Helen laughed.

Al fished out the keys, and removed them from his key ring. "Anything
else I should know about your newfangled vehicle?"

"Just don't put any old transmissions in the back seat." Helen
replied.

Al grimaced, "How about starters? What about the front seat?"

"Oh! You!" Turning to Jennifer, she continued, "The man's
incorrigible!"

Jennifer grinned. "Could be worse..."

Helen grinned and wandered off to take care of other customers. Al
and Jennifer consumed their burgers. When they were done, and stood up to
go, Helen drifted close. "C'mere!" Al ordered, "I want dessert!" When she
drifted into reach, Al gathered her in for a kiss making a point of
squeezing both of her asscheeks in plain sight of the kitchen staff while
doing it. "See ya later, Baby!" he rumbled, and set off in pursuit of
Jennifer, who had made use of the delay to hobble toward the door.

"Bye!" Helen waved.

Flossie appeared, now that the coast was clear. "I'd better start
looking for your replacement," she observed.

"Why?" Helen asked, puzzled.

"Man like that will want you home," Flossie replied.

"We're not married. I have to make a living." Helen sniffed.

"You're not married, YET! He's gonna ask, and you're gonna say
'yes'... I know the real deal when I see it." Flossie insisted.

Helen was nonplussed. "I I don't think so... I can't see why he'd
buy a cow when he can get free milk."

"Maybe he doesn't want to go to the store? I think he wants more than
just milk. You can stop kidding yourself and start reeling in the line, any
time. He's waitin' by the dock for the net, anyway." Flossie winked.

Helen decided to play the game, not out of any real belief, but just
to keep Flossie happy. "Well, I think I'll wait a while yet before I start
hauling. If the hooks REALLY set, he can only be more cooperative..."

"Honey, listen to Mama," Flossie countered. "A man isn't so open in
public with a woman he's only with until something better comes along, even
if it's her own turf! If a man takes you to a dark restaurant and only
talks to you in public, he's still dating and holding his options open. If
he hugs you and kisses you and plays with your ass in broad daylight in
front of a hundred strangers, you're his woman and he ain't looking
elsewhere."

Helen pondered this insight. "Well, if you say so..."

"I say so! That woman he was with? Remember what she said? HE said
that she was just repeating it! That means the subject came up, and he
was perfectly clear about it, which is another indicator. If he tells
another man he's keeping you around, it could be for any number of reasons.
If he tells a WOMAN, well..."

Helen shook her head. "It's infatuation. He likes my..."

"You bet he does! That's a required component! Only a stupid woman
doesn't realize that! But he can get pussy elsewhere maybe even from the
'skinny bitch'. Who's decorating his bed?" Flossie shook her head. "Don't
sell yourself short. There's chemistry between you, and it ain't goin'
away!"

"Well, okay. But I'm still taking it easy. I've been fooled before!"

"Honey," Flossie replied, "even your old man shit that he was!
hung out long enough to father two girls by you. It wasn't your fault.
This fella is light years beyond your old man, and he's no fool. He ain't
goin' anywhere. You play your cards right do ANYTHING but fold! and
you'll be wakin' up next to him when you're ninety!" She shook her head.
"I'm done wastin' my breath. Let's get some work done!"


Mike was waiting in the ER atrium when Jennifer and Al arrived. "I'm
all set," he announced.

Jennifer hung back, mouthing "Hi!" silently. Al turned to her and
asked, "You still want to get rid of the crutches?"

Jennifer assessed the situation, including Mike's obvious impatience
to be gone, and replied, "Maybe not. I guess I'll hang onto them for a bit
longer."

"We can wait no problem!" Mike put in.

"No, your father was probably right earlier when he advised me to hang
onto them for a while," Jennifer decided. "Let's go!"

Al brought the car around, and Mike slid into the back seat, then
scooted over for Jennifer, who unfortunately had circled the car to get in
via the far door. There was a moment of confusion before Mike slid back to
the right side and closed the door, and Jennifer entered via the left. Al
found it interesting that both of them had made for the back seat, but said
nothing. Silence reigned as Al pulled out of the parking lot.

Mike watched Jennifer sidelong for a few moments, detecting the fear
that held her in place, then made a hand available by laying it, palm up, on
the seat. Jennifer eyed it for a moment, then hesitantly pushed out a hand
to meet it. When it looked like she was going to falter, Mike reached out
and made the capture, which sent a shock through both of them. Mike
grinned, and Jennifer scooted closer on the seat, leaning against him.
"Easy," he murmured, indicating his injured leg. Jennifer contented herself
with gripping his bicep.

Another moment passed while they absorbed the feel of one another,
then Jennifer announced simply, "I'm older."

"But you haven't been around..." was Mike's response. They gazed into
each other's eyes.

Al looked up in the rearview just as the kiss began. "Jeezus! That's
what passes for conversation between you two?" He shook his head.

"Are we going home, Dad?" Mike asked.

"Yeah. I need to get back to the garage, before Mario sells it to
square his gambling debts. Helen is gonna stop by and look in on you and
feed us, later. In the meantime, I'm trying to figure out whether I should
leave the two of you to babysit each other, or if I'm askin' for trouble!"
was Al's laconic response.

"We'll be fine." Mike announced confidently, but Jennifer wouldn't
meet Al's eye through the mirror.

Al pulled into the drive and helped Mike get vertical on his crutches
while Jennifer, a bit more practiced, handled hers. Once they were inside,
Al, obviously antsy about being gone from the garage, asked, "Need
anything?" At Mike's quiet "No", he nodded to Jennifer, "Mike knows where
everything is. You two try to stay out of trouble," and walked out.

Mike dropped onto the couch and said, "Okay, what do you want to do?"

"What we were doing in the car," Jennifer replied, seating herself
next to him. This time, she was on his right, avoiding the injured leg, so
she snuggled right up.

Mike laughed gently, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and bent to
sup from the offered lips. They kissed. And kissed and kissed some more.
Anyone watching them would assume that they were both sixteen and in the
grip of their first infatuation. At some point, they went horizontal,
Jennifer draping herself atop Mike in a position reminiscent of the previous
night. Time stretched, compressed, and did those other strange things it
does when you kiss. And at some point, they both drifted off...


School let out and the grand parade home began. Tim waited for
Dolores by his car. She was troubled when she arrived. "What's the matter,
Babe?" Tim asked.

"Do you love me, Sugar?" Dolores asked plaintively.

Despite the fact that the question had never been put to him that
baldly before, Tim's pause was mere milliseconds, "Yes, why?"

"Then why won't you make love to me?" Dolores whined. She flowed into
his arms. Gazing into his eyes, she announced, "I want this to be clear: I
want this," she rubbed his groin through his jeans, "inside me, yesterday!"

"Okay," Tim replied, holding the eye lock, "this is MY position:
Saturday night, after the Prom, I'm going to give it to you until one or
both of us can't go on any longer! But I'm NOT doing it in a car, or
anywhere that your father or mother can bust in on us! You need to wait
three days and I PROMISE I'll make it worth the wait!"

Dolores continued to pout. "Well, okay but can I lick it a little?"

"Sure, Baby if we can find somewhere quiet... I want to play with
your pretty pussy a bit, too!" Tim affirmed.

Dolores gave him a hug. "Let's go to my house!" They piled into
Tim's car and headed for the Brown's.

On arrival, they sneaked in the front door. "Shhh!" Dolores
cautioned, "Momma's bound to be around here!" and they crept down the hall
to Dolores' room.

Dolores didn't stand on ceremony. Before the bedroom door hit the
jamb. She was unbuckling Tim's belt. Almost immediately, she had his jeans
around his ankles. As she dove in, however, he stuck his hand in the way.
"Uh uh! You get out of those pants! I want to eat pussy!"

Dolores did him one better, the signature midriff top went over her
head, too, leaving her naked. Tim took the time to get his shoes and jeans
all of the way off. Dolores came forward and began working at his shirt
buttons while Tim popped the cuffs, then collected her breasts in his hands.
"Damn, these are nice!"

Dolores had to work hard not to be distracted by Tim's attentions, but
she managed, even elbowing his hands loose as she started pushing his shirt
over his shoulders and down his arms. Tim cooperated, whisking off his T
shirt when it was clear. Then he went back to work on her breasts while
backing her toward her bed. When they got there, however, Dolores turned,
rather than flopping back onto the spread. "Uh uh! I want you on the
bottom! I need room to work!"

Tim grinned and stretched out, deliberately sliding low. "Like this?"

"Perfect." Dolores crawled atop him, taking advantage of the space he
left above his head for her legs. She reached out, savoring the feel of his
11" length. "Mmmmm, that feels SO good! I can't wait for you to put it
where it belongs!"

"What if it doesn't fit?" Tim asked. He was grinning, but there was a
certain underlying aura of trepidation. If sex with her hurt, it could ruin
their relationship...

"I'll do stretching exercises. I'm not worried you shouldn't be,
either. Momma takes this size."

Tim absorbed this declaration. Padma was quite small, too. "True," he
agreed, and reached up and began pulling open the petals of Dolores' flower.
Dolores' pussy had large, loose outer lips that exposed the inner pink
recesses. Tim collected each between his thumbs and forefingers, using a
little bulging protrusion that seemed to be custom made for the purpose, and
spread them. Despite the apparent looseness of the outer covering, the
contents were quite compact, and displayed a fine fresh coral pink color and
a sweet, musky smell.

Dolores chose that moment of inspection to lower her head over the
glans of Tim's erection, which caused him to be momentarily distracted while
savoring the initial sensations before returning his attention to the task
before him. Dolores grinned around the intruder, knowing from the squirming
she prompted that she had his attention. Denise had taught her all about
the power and control inherent in this supposedly subservient activity, and
she reveled in the knowledge that she was driving him nuts.

Tim, deciding that it was time to get even, delivered a broad swipe of
his tongue upward along her channel from clitoris to anus. Dolores,
galvanized, stopped dead and just sucked his cock head as if it were a
pacifier, emitting a startled "Ommph!", mostly through her nose.

Almost immediately, however, they settled into a rhythm, Tim wriggling
a finger into her open channel while teasing her clitoris with his tongue,
and Dolores bobbing on and laving the first four inches of Tim's cock,
making little "Um! Um! Um!" noises on the outstroke.

It was this rhythmic exclamation that was the source of their undoing.
Padma, walking past the stair a few minutes later, detected the sound and
followed it to its source, discovering her daughter and her boyfriend nude
on her bed, engaged in a torrid bout of oral sex. As she arrived, Dolores
began shaking and whining through her nose as the second orgasm of the
session overcame her. Padma watched for a moment, ignoring her own physical
reaction at the sight ('Oh! He's HUGE!' and an attendant wash of
secretions), before crossing to the foot of the bed to critique her
daughter's efforts. "Daughter, if you would keep this man, you must go
DEEP!"

"Umm?" Dolores looked up to see her mother standing there. Tim, for
his part, rolled his eyes, thinking, 'Well, THIS is over!'

"You have to make the deep throat!" Padma insisted.

"I can't, Momma! I've tried! Denise says it can be done, but ..."
Dolores whined.

"You can do it. Go deep, and stay there until the gagging stops.
Your throat will open, and you can go on. Try it!" Padma directed.

Tim, surprised that the expected screaming and yelling had not
occurred, shrugged and went back to his licking, which caused Dolores' eyes
to slit with pleasure. Padma brought her back. "Go on, you are not the
only one needing to be pleasured here!"

Dolores dutifully resumed her efforts, taking in about 6 inches per
stroke. Padma wasn't satisfied. "Go slow. Get more in. Work it into your
throat!"

Dolores tried, gagged, failed. "I can't!" she wailed, "It can't be
done!"

"Nonsense! I do this for your father, who is about the same size."
Peremptorily, she wave Dolores back.

As she rose up on her haunches, her pussy moved out of Tim's reach, so
he glanced down between her legs to see what was going on, just as another
mouth enveloped his cock. Padma bobbed once, quickly, then laved him from
root to head to get the shaft more wet, then slowly lowered her mouth onto
his cock, initially to the approximately six inches that her daughter had
managed. Then, looking into his startled eyes, she kept right on going
until her nose was buried in his pubic hair.

The surprise and sensations proved too much for Tim. His eyes went
glassy and his cock began to expand as the salacious sight triggered his
orgasm. Corded muscles stood out on his neck as he instinctively tried to
control his ejaculation, but the effort was doomed from the start.

Padma sensed what was occurring and backed off, pulling her daughter's
head down to replace her. "Oops! I set him off! Take it!" Dolores' mouth
settled into place just in time to take the first of seven looong jets of
semen while Tim grabbed great handfuls of the bedclothes and gasped loudly
through gritted teeth. "See, I told you it could be done!" Padma announced,
calmly.

Dolores swallowed two mouthfuls of Tim's salty sperm, but held the
third in her mouth. Not telegraphing anything she locked eyes with her
mother and waved her down as she removed her lips from Tim's cock. As Padma
leaned in, Dolores trapped her mother's head so she couldn't get away and
locked lips with her, forcing a rich mouthful of Tim's spend into her mouth.
Pulling back, she announced, "There was plenty..." and grinned.

Padma swallowed, more out of instinct and surprise than anything else.
Then she stopped to savor the flavor of Tim's leftover sperm as it hit her
taste buds. "That was evil!" she exclaimed, scowling at Dolores.

Dolores continued to smile. "You earned it, Mother!"

Padma nodded at Tim's erection. "Try it now that it's a bit softer."

Dolores lowered her head and began taking in Tim's cock, but its post
orgasmic sensitivity caused him to bleat "Aaagh!" and thrash, dislodging
her. "That will have to wait! I can't handle it!" he groaned.

Dolores grinned, teasing him by chasing the sensitive head and giving
it quick sucks. Padma was philosophical. "There are substitutes, Daughter.
We'll get you there." With that, Padma got up and got out of there. Later,
she would realize that the taste of Tim's sperm was the trigger that caused
her to begin seriously considering Dolores' wild plan.

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Saturday, July 31, 2004

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Friday, July 30, 2004

Hardcore Porn Sample Video Sex story

DISCLAIMER

This is a piece of fiction. Its characters have not even
begun to contemplate such things, mostly because said
characters do not exist. Any imagined resemblance to people
living or deceased is either the result of dementia on the
reader's part or that the reader is, in fact, a character
this story. None of these are conditions to be proud of,
and it would not be wise to draw attention to one's self by
claiming any similarity.

It is assumed that readers of this story have the permission
of the state, mom, dad, and the pastor and are able to fully
tell the difference between real and makebelieve. If not,
ain't you ever heard of Disney, TheLittleMermaid is plenty
hot enough for you, little boy, jeeze. Furthermore, the writer
is aware that he is bound for hell, but welcomes both praise
or/and well thoughts out, humourous insults on his writing
skill or lack there of. Note: he already knows he cannot
spell warth shet, though Jibsheets' Slut tried to find them all.

The events and descriptions of this story are the sole
property of Kenny N Gamera and should not be recorded,
reposted, or profited from in anyway without express written
permission of the person hiding behind that pen name.
Reposting and free archiving may be tolerated given the
writer's name and address remains attached. Archiving by
Deja.Com, and / is assumed and encouraged.

Thank You and Good Day,
Kenny N Gamera
turtlemeat69
Original Post 18 Nov 2002


Case of the Uncommon Whore
as told to
Kenny N Gamera

My name is Kevin Michaels. Bill collectors call me Mr.
Michaels. Friends call me Mike. Clients call me
infrequently. I am a private detective; though, at times I
feel more like a pornographer.

I am good with a camera, especially with using a zoom lens
at a distance. I, therefore, do mostly divorce cases.
Usually, I work for lawyers needing high quality shots for
evidence in the messier battles. Occasionally, I do get a
client who wants me tail a spouse or someone else of whom
they are suspicious. This is about one such client.

I have an office/apartment above a bar in the low rent area
of town. I have never had occasion to learn the bar's
name, because I have never had any difficulty finding it.
Nor have I ever had need to give directions; perspective
clients seem to find me without my needing to give them. I
hardly ever use the office to meet clients, anyway. Most
of my business seems to be accomplished downstairs in the
corner booth of the smoking section where I can safely give
myself a case of lung cancer to keep the serositis company.

That day, I had been sitting at the bar sipping something
cheap and vaguely Scotch. She walked up behind me looking
hot and a half in something very red, very short, and only
slightly tight. She looked at my reflection in the bar
mirror and called me Mr. Michaels.

Most of the bill collectors that I come across tend to look
a little less feminine and a lot more fatal, so I admitted
to being me for about the first time in a week. Assuming
hopefully that she was there to give me money, I suggested
that we retire to the corner booth. She declined.

"Mr. Michaels, I would prefer the privacy of your office to
discuss this matter. I want the whole affair handled as
discretely as possible."

I shrugged and got off my stool. Together, we went to the
door to the upstairs. I held it open for her, which gave
me a chance to check her best side. Her legs were slightly
thinner than average and shapely, as if they had done their
share of dancing. I, also, got a glimpse of hose top when
her skirt rose a bit as she stepped up the stairs.
Climbing up the flights, the contents of that skirt came
alive. Her fanny had a rounded shape, being neither too
large nor too small.

"I see you found him downstairs," said Emily from the front
desk when we walked into the office.

"Yes, your father was right where you said he'd be."

"The office is this way." I waved towards it as I poured
myself some coffee to help clear some of the Scotch from my
system, "and Emily's not my daughter; she's my secretary."

I got that look that people always give me with that
revelation. It was nothing of that sort. I had found her,
a cute thirteen yearold runaway, asleep in my bed one
morning after I had awakened on the couch in reception
area. That has been the arrangement between us ever since,
with the addition of her answering the phone, doing the
general cleaning, and the like. She claims that she owes
me because I had saved her from a some pimp who sounded a
lot like Leroy Watson, local white slaver and grand dragon
of the KKK. That I could not remember anything about it
myself does not mean much; I miss a lot when I am out at
night.

I passed my client into my office and went to my desk,
flopping down in my high back chair. Some would call it
antique if it were not such a worthless piece of junk. She
sat down in one of the equally ancient, surplus chairs at
the front of the desk. She sat up straight with both of
her hands laid across her lap. I chose to ignore her body
language and decided to get to business.

"What can I do for you, Mrs....?" I let the question drag
out to let her know that she had yet to share her name.

"Miss. Miss Loretta Van Derma. Mr. Michaels, I need you to
follow my brother's fianc�e," she replied as I reminded
myself to check for a ring next time.

I pushed a Barbie out of the way to get at a pad of paper
and one of those inexpensive, disposable automatic pencils.
I took notes as she told her story. It would seem that the
young lady before me stood to inherent ,along with her
brother, a more than sizable portion of town from their
father, a local real estate baron. Young Mr. Van Derma,
however, had fallen for a young woman from the other side
of the tracks.

Miss Van Derma had grown up with the certain knowledge that
this must equal moneygrubbing slut. It also meant, I was
told, that her brother was endangering the "Family"
reputation and, more importantly, the family fortune. I
was to follow the fianc�e, Jennifer Wales, during the
course of her day and get evidence of her hooking on the
streets, dancing at a strip club, doing porno flicks, or
whatever trash like her did when not bleeding softhearted,
young heirs dry.

Because I get enough business to keep my rent and bar tab
two months ahead if not enough to keep my other bills less
than two months behind, I was tempted to skip the case.
It sounded too much like one of those awful soaps that
Greta, the afternoon waitress downstairs, would watch
instead the Cubbies.

She forced me to take it.

"I am offering you a five thousand dollar retainer right
now, Mr. Michaels, with an additional ten thousand when you
produce evidence that I can show my father to convince him
that we must force my brother to end this farce."

I agreed. I felt as if I had sold my worthless soul to the
devil; however, fifteen grand meant that I could pay off a
few of the less important bills such as my credit cards. I
would even have a couple of dollars left over to get Emily
the Barbie townhouse that she had been drooling over.

I began that night. It gave me a chance to get something
other a cheeseburger into Emily. We ate at the all night
restaurant where Jennifer worked as a waitress on the
midnight shift. We lucked out and got a table in the
section next to hers. This would let us watch her at work,
but allow us to compare notes without being overheard.

After we had ordered our dinner, Emily said, "she's very
pretty."

It was clear why the younger Van Derma would want to make
her his wife. Her eyes were a pistol blue that shined
whenever she would flash her lovely smile. She had her
light brown hair with blond highlights cut to her
shoulders. Her apron hid modest breasts but she could not
hide a nice compact ass. Overall, she appeared to be just
as sweet as any collegeaged girl could be.

About the time my tuna melt and Emily's vegetarian stir fry
reached our table, Jennifer's fianc�e arrived and went
right to an open table in her section. She skillfully
managed her section while allowing herself time for
frequently stops to talk with him. We lingered over apple
pie as we watched them flirt only as two young people can.

Finally, he stood to leave. Whispering in her ear, he
handed her a slip of paper. She lowered her head and
blushed. It may have been the distance, but to me, she did
not appear to be smiling.

The next day Emily stayed behind to watch her cartoons,
play, and man the phones. I went to the local Bible
College to find out more about and resume following Miss
Wales. Asking questions while she attended lectures, I
learned nothing that would suggest that she was anything
other than a nice little Christian girl, except maybe that
she was so kind herself. She was devoid of many of the
biases that inflict many other "nice little Christians."

She went to her classes and scored well on exams. She
attended church and volunteered at a local soup kitchen.
At one of those meetings that the just say no types throw
on occasion, she had pledged her virginity to her husband.
All in all, nothing suggested anything other than her being
a proper and well behaved young woman.

Her last class ended early afternoon. I had timed my
travels so I waited outside when it let out. I followed
her out of the building to her car, got to mine, and
continued to trail her out of the parking lot at a discrete
distance. She never appeared to notice as she led me to a
small adult bookstore near the interstate.

I drove past as she went into the lot. I continued down
the block, turned around, and went to the store myself. A
tall picket fence surrounded the lot to protect customers
from prying eyes plus to protect the prying eyes from what
was inside. It was crowded with the same kind of car that
I drove, old and rusted, making it easy for me to hide
among them. I pulled a small spytype camera from under my
seat and went into the store.

She stood in front of the counter looking over the toys
inside the display case with down turned eyes and shuffling
feet. She wore a Bible College sweat shirt and a pair of
normal fit jeans. Every guy who was not in a viewing booth
was looking at her, most likely not believing someone like
her would be there, but enjoying their luck to be
witnesses. That made it easy for me to take pictures as I
feigned interest in a rack of European allgirl videos.

She explained to the salesman what she needed in a voice
too soft for me to hear from where I stood. He showed her
a number of large dildos. Each was lifelike in shape and
colour if not (from my limited experience) size. She
showed little interest in any particular one. She merely
closed her eyes as she selected the largest and blackest.
I "got bored" and left without being noticed while she
paid.

I waited in my car for her to leave. When she exited the
building, I took several shots of her to establish the
site. She carried her purchase without a bag, so two
greasy rednecks who were going inside clearly saw what she
had. Whatever they had said to her made her snap her head
away as if she had been slapped.

I did not take any pictures of her as she sat crying in her
car.

From there, she went straight to her apartment above the
garage of an elderly couple from her church. I let her be
long enough to call Emily from a convience store payphone
to collect the day's messages and what not. I left her
after a short while with instructions to make an
appointment with a lawyer friend who had called.

Because I was going to be late with this case, I also asked
her to go to Father Martinez and Sister Marcie's for the
night. I wished her a good night and we hung up. I got
back from the payphone shortly before Jennifer left her
apartment again.

This time she wore a white blouse and a very tight, short
black leather miniskirt. Underneath, she had white hose
and what my telephoto lens showed was a white garter belt,
that the skirt had no effect in hiding. A set of black,
stiletto, threeinch heels finished the ensemble. Though
it was clear she was hardly a complete amateur in heels,
she still walked with some difficulty as she made her way
to her car.

Her makeup was the biggest transformation, however. Last
night and earlier today what makeup she may have worn
merely accentuated her natural prettiness. Now, the
effect was stunning and it became clear to me that this
young lady could have modeled if she had wished. Her smile
had disappeared, though, replaced by a flat expression, and
her face lost the glow it had the night before this.

I followed her to a large home along the river in one of
the nicer (read: richer) and more isolated parts of town.
The hill across street was empty and not a difficult climb
even with my camera gear and the large electronic
microphone I had brought with me. I quickly found her in a
second story picture window in front of a balcony. She was
already stripped down to just a white bra and the garter
belt and hose.

I shot a few exposures of her before I set up and adjusted
the microphone. It used a laser beam to measure vibrations
in the windowpane caused by the sounds in a room. The
first thing I heard was her pleading when I had it
connected. I started the recorder and focused my camera on
the window to find a man had joined her, presumably the one
to whom she begged.

He was dressed but hardly in a conservative manner. He
had a white button down shirt made of what I would guess
was silk and black leather pants that either showed off his
features well or were made to enhance them and

matched the hood that hid his face.


I took more exposures as he cuffed her wrists together. He
lifting her arms above her shoulders with a careful motion.
Connecting the manacles to a dangling chain, he left her
feet on the floor. Finishing this, the master finally
spoke to her.

"Shut up, bitch. I own your body, and it is mine to do
with as I please. You have surrendered to me, and soon I
will break you."

In answer, Jennifer's pleas turn to sobs. He slapped her.

"I said shut up, and that includes your incessant crying,
whore. If you don't stop, I will be forced to gag you. In
that case, you won't be able to complete your lesson
tonight, and I may be forced to take that precious cherry
of yours.

"That, slut, is the only thing which separates you from a
common whore, and who would marry a common whore."

That last was a statement not a question, and it had venom
behind it. It also frightened the girl who forced the last
of her sobs down her throat, but the look on her face was
not calm as I started a second roll of film.

"Did you buy your new toy?" She nodded her head. "Good,
slave. I won't ask if you followed your instructions. We
will find out tomorrow night. Now, I want you to spread
your legs while I ask Cynthia to help us see how well you
learned your last lesson."

A stunning, large breasted, and very nude blond walked into
view of the window. The hooded man fit the spread legs of
the hanging girl with a bar to keep them apart.

Producing the dildo Jennifer had bought, Cynthia spread
her legs to introduce it to her own pussy. She began to
stroke it in and out slowly of her cunt making it shiny
with her juices. She did this without making a sound loud
enough to register on my equipment.

"One day, my lively little whore, you a become the perfect
slave like Cynthia. Cynthia," he asked as she withdrew
the dildo from her body, "have you prepared this slut's toy
for it."

Cynthia nodded and took the fake dong and slowly began to
work it up the young woman's butt hole. The grimace on
Jennifer's face was not just from the pain of having a
foreign object driven up the wrong way of her one way
street: it appeared that she was enjoying the violation of
the anal sex.

"Now, slave, if you were a common whore, you could have
prepared this yourself. But you are a most uncommon whore,
my slut. Virgin in your fair cunt, but not in your filthy
asshole."

After a few minutes of fucking the plastic rod into the
girl, Cynthia placed a chastity belt around Jennifer that
kept the dildo trapped in her ass. A small padlock was
snapped in place and Cynthia tested it before handing her
master the key. Cynthia then walked from view and I heard
a door close.

"Do you enjoy having that cock up your ass," the master
asked to which she responded with a nod.

He slapped her across the face.

"Tell me out loud and tell me the truth, bitch. Do you
enjoy having something up your asshole?"

She replied softly so I barely heard her voice in my
headphones, "yes, Master. I enjoy having this dildo in my
ass."

He began to fondle her breast with his right hand. "Soon
you will be married and on your wedding night your groom
will strip you of your maiden hood. It will be so much
different than this. It will be romantic and tender just
as in your dreams. You want that don't you?"

She nodded her head.

"Do you want it more than this?" He twisted her breast in
his hand. She grimaced again but this time totally from
pain. Still, she held her tongue. "You learn quickly,
slave. Soon, I may call you by your name, but not just
yet. You have not earned that privilege."

He turned her head by her chin so that she faced him.

"Shall we began your next lesson?"

She did not give a response, and he did not wait for one.
He clapped his hands, and I heard the door opened again.
Shortly, Cynthia returned to deal, this time leading a
tall, thin black man by a dog chain. He was as undressed
as she and as silent.

She directed him to a table upon which he laid. His
equally long and thin cock stuck straight into the air.

Cynthia bent down and took the man's cock into her mouth.
She began, slowly at first, to bob up and down. She picked
up speed and went further with each stroke. The master
began a running commentary of what was happening and how it
felt for the man.

Then he ordered Cynthia to stop. Together, they released
Jennifer from the ceiling and helped her to the table.
Once there, he forced her head down to the cock. She
opened her mouth wide and began to allow the dick to enter.
I quickly switched cameras and began to shoot pictures as
fast as I could. When she began to gag, he released her
head so she could lift herself up. On her own, she began
to repeat the procedure of the other slave, progressing
further down after a time.

Eventually, the nameless black man began to tense. The
master grabbed Jennifer's hair and pulled her up to catch
the first blast in her face. Cynthia reached for the
spurting dick. She directed it to soak the young woman's
face with cum. With the last feeble squirt, she shook the
penis and helped the young man up from the table. She then
led him from the room.

"You have learned to deep throat well, slave. The next
will be longer and much thicker. That slave will take your
ass as well."

Cynthia returned and the masked man addressed her. "Clean
this slut and send it home. I am finished with it."

He turned back to Jennifer. "Tomorrow, I will remove that
belt."

I took this as my cue to leave. After a few last shots of
Cynthia licking cum from Jennifer's tear streaked face, I
quickly packed my things. I was able to leave before
Jennifer left the house.

I made my way home before ten. My pillow and blanket were
on the couch along with a note from Emily saying that she
had decided to stay tonight. I got undressed down to my
shorts and went out quickly. I was too tired to worry
about the obvious set up of which I had become part.

In the morning while I dressed, I thought through the last
several day's events; events had happened way too quickly.
It would usually take a week of intense tailing to get the
first usable photograph; I got several rolls the next day.
People do not have normal sex, let alone kinky sex, in
front of an open picture window in real life. Everything
last night seemed to have been on a stage.

I would have bet that my current patron was behind this.
She hired some bondage freak to blackmail the poor girl
into some sort of sick relationship. Then, I am brought in
to get the evidence to show to Daddy. Daddy demands an end
to the relationship. Jennifer confesses but in tears
claims that she was forced to everything. The softhearted
younger Van Derma refuses to stop the wedding. He is
disinherited, leaving my bitch of a client to collect the
whole fortune.

I had to give her credit; she was damn good.

While Emily ate her Fruit Loops, I called Miss Van Derma.
She seemed genuinely and pleasantly surprised with my quick
results and asked that I visit her family's home that night
with the tape and photos. Against my better judgment, I
agreed mostly to get my money and as far away from her as I
could as soon as I could.

I left Emily working on some homework assignment that
Sister Marcie wanted her to do. I went to develop the
negatives in the closet I had converted into a darkroom .
I made two sets of prints: one to deliver tonight with the
negatives and a second set for a friend of mine who is a
collector of such things. I basically use him an archive
of my casework. After all, should someone turn up dead,
the police may need to see me in establishing a motive. It
has not happen, yet one never knows in this business.

About lunchtime, I sent Emily downstairs for her afternoon

cheeseburger. I wrote out a report using my notes. The
more adult

details were put down in a technical way as not to corrupt
Emily when

she would correct my atrocious spelling and grammar and
type it out. Later, I left her to type and went downstairs
to meet with my

lawyer friend.

He wasn't there so I went to the bar to get a coke from
Gus. Getting a Pepsi, I went to my booth to light up while
I waited. Hank was an old friend of mine from some war in
which I cannot recall taking part, except for some vague
images involving beer and olive drab. Recovering, he does
not preach too much. He mainly keeps throwing work my way
because I usually stay sober while on a case. I was
looking forward to working on something routine, a thing
Hank never failed to produce.

He noticed the soft drink in my hand, which forced me to
explain my current case. As I told the short version of
the story, he listened with a furrowed brow. Finally, I
reached the point where I had made tonight's appointment.
He interrupted.

"Watch your ass with these people, Mike. They play hard
ball."

"That's about what I thought. 'Cause these kids are being
set up." Hank nodded his head in agreement. "I only hope
that I'm coming up on the winning side."



"Loretta Van Derma is supposed to be the meanest of them.
Greg is a damn nice guy. We eat together at the club
fairly often. He comes across as being a very genuine
person. Still, I have never seen anyone fuck him over. He
may not be mean, but he's smart."

"Any chance he might find a way to get back at me," I
asked.

Hank got a faraway look for a second, then answered, "He
wouldn't want to. He'd go after his sister if he could,
but he wouldn't waste the energy on a pawn. It's the old
man you've got to watch. Hang low, and don't press for any
more money than her fee."

He looked me in the eyes. "He even thinks that he smells
blackmail, you're dead."

After that, we settled down to his business. It was as
routine as I could have hoped. We set a price that was no
where near what I was promised by Miss Van Derma, but fair
for the work of establishing the habits of a cheating wife
and her boss. As we shook hands, he wished me luck for
tonight and then left.

I spent the rest of the afternoon impatiently waiting for
the time of my evening meeting. There was little else to
do. When I get like that, I usually arrive earlier than
scheduled. I did again that night by about a half hour. A
thin, smallchested girl in the classic French maid's
outfit greeted me at the door. I followed her as she
wordless lead me to a very large sitting room. She poured
me a scotch without my asking and left.

I quickly gulped it down. Resisting the urge to pour
myself another, I tried to work off my nerves by pacing
around. I had hopes that someone would soon arrive and
relieve me of the delivery. I wanted to leave before
anyone other than my client realized that I was there and
should wonder what my business was.

After an unbearable time, my employer entered the room.
She wore faded jeans and a white blouse through which I
detected the signs of what could be a black bra. She
walked past me, the pronounced movements of her buttock
still in evidence. She turned and took a seat on a couch.
Across from it with a coffee table between them, stood a
loveseat into which I sat.

"Mr. Michaels," she said. "I understand that you have
found what I was looking for. That was quick work."

"Yes, Ma'am."

I handed her the envelope containing the photographs, the
tape, and report. She had me remain as she flipped through
the photographs with a big smile across her face.

Finally, she looked up from the photos and announced,
"These are wonderful, Mr. Michaels. This surpasses every
thing I could have hoped for in fact. If I could ask you
to wait here, I'll be back in a moment.

Again, I was left alone, but before I grew too restless,
another young

woman in a maid's costume came for me. She led me down the
hall into a small room that appeared to be a

den. There, I found Miss Van Derma

and two older gentlemen waiting for me. One of them, a
frail, thin man whose doctor most likely made drink

Ensure, stood from his chair.

"Mr. Michaels. This is my father,

Darwin Van Derma," she gestured to the frail man. Then she
nodded to the other. "And his lawyer, Huxley Vogel."

Van Derma held out his hand. I took it. He and his dark
three piece suit looked as if they were parts of the same
organism. Steel blue eyes judged me with one glance. I
would guess that not one of the silver hairs on his head
had moved in the last century. He was a man of metal.

Vogel was a man of chocolate. His large bulk reminded me
of a stereotypical happy German burgermeister. His
handshake, however, felt firm in my grasp.

"I've shown Daddy your photos and would like you to telling
him everything."

After a mental "Aw crap," I told them the same short
version of the story that I had told Hank, excluding any
negative opinions that I held toward my client or what I
considered her motives. Both of the gentlemen listened
stoically to my account while Miss Van Derma all but
bounced giggling in her chair. I summed up then started to
recite a Hail Mary in my head.

The elder Van Derma reached over to a table stand and
flipped a switch to an intercom. "Cynthia. Could you
bring Gregory and Jennifer here, dear?" After releasing
the button, he added to us, "My wife will bring them here,
and this will be cleared up shortly."

One man's shortly is another man's endless wait. I had
gotten used to it by that point and just quietly watched as
Miss Van Derma gloated and the two men sipped the cocktails
that they had in hand when I had entered. I kept myself
entertained with thoughts of all the terrible things that
would happen to me. Distracted by my imagination, I failed
to hear the door behind me open.

I did hear Miss Van Derma gasp and cry out, "Mother."

I turned around to discover the source of my client's
shock, the blonde from the night before, now dressed in
thighheight vinyl boots with tall spike heels, a studded
dog collar, and nothing else. She went directly to her
husband and knelt next to him, facing towards me. She
turned her head up to her husband's face as her hand took
hold of her husband's crotch.

"Greg and his slut will be here presently, Master," she
said before turning back to smile at me as the elder Van
Derma stroked her hair.

A heartbeat later, I turned to a thud behind me. I saw
Jennifer on the floor. In addition to an outfit matching
that of her future motherinlaw, she had a gag in her
mouth and wore a hobble so she could barely walk;
evidently, she had tripped. Greg Van Derma, who I could
now recognize as the man with the leather mask, held a
leash attached to her collar. He used a riding crop in his
free hand to swat the fallen girl in the rump.

He addressed his father in a formal tone, "My apologies,
Father. This slut is not quite yet prepared in the ways of
a slave. I will punish her properly after this meeting."

The elder Van Derma replied, "Not too harshly, son. One
cannot push a slave too hard while it is being broken. You
want to retain something of the original essence. But this
is not why you are here.

"This gentleman," he gestured towards me, "has informed me
that you have progressed your slut faster in anal
intercourse than in oral intercourse."

"Yes, father. I much prefer a young slut's ass to its
throat. I am sure when it has matured , it will bring me
more pleasure with its mouth, but I want its ass ready for
the near term."

"Very good," said the older man as he leaned back and
relaxed. "I was wondering, that is all. She is your
property."

His wife remained where she knelt, manipulating his
enlarged member.

During the exchange between father and son, I noticed that
Vogel had quietly stood. He moved discreetly to a position
next to and behind Miss Van Derma. He had the air of a
bored man during the interplay.

He did seem amused by my stunned reaction, especially as

the elder Van Derma spasmed as he came in his pants. Mrs.
Van Derma continued to knead as a wet spot

spread.

In the after glow of his orgasm, he turned to his daughter
and asked, "And what had you hoped to gain by this."

She jumped up and screamed, "I

want that whore out of this family.

Look at what she has done to you and Greg. Look at what
she has done to mother. She..."

At this, the jolly burgermiester stood and slapped her
across the face so hard that she fell in her chair. While
she was still in shock, Vogel snapped a pair of police
handcuffs on her wrists. With this, the shock broke, and
she began to twist and shout.

"Cynthia, help Huxley with your whelp."

As I and the couple behind me watched, the slavewife stood
calmly and went behind her daughter. Producing a ball gag
from under the chair, she pushed it into the bound woman's
mouth during a particularly loud scream. As Vogel held her
head still with a hand tight over each cheek, the mother
tightened the daughter's straps.

Then, she gently pushed away the man's hands. With an open
hand, she sharply struck her struggling offspring across
both cheeks. The girl looked in horror at her mother but
was now still. The older slave turned back towards her
husband.

"It will listen now, Master."

"Thank you, Cynthia. Please take a chair. Greg your slut
may take a chair as well. Hux. Please place your new whore
on the floor. I do not want it soiling the furniture."

The bound woman was forced to the floor.

"Now, my daughter, a word of explanation. It was I who
trained your mare just as Greg is now training his own
slave. A wife is for breeding. In my case, I needed a son
for my heir. Once Greg was born, I had your mare's tubes
tied and she became one of my toys. My favourite, as
always because I love her as none other, but still a toy.

"You were, however, born first. I have no need for a
daughter, but fortunately, Huxley needs a brood mare for
his young son, who is quite taken by you."

"Eugene will be pleased with his gift when he graduates
from law school next year," said Vogel as he roughly
fondled a breast.

"You see, you are my retainer to Hux for the next four
years. He will train you to be a proper slave for his
son." Van Derma clapped his hands and two maids entered.
"Michele. Alison. Take Master Huxley's possession to his
care."

As they lifted my former client by her arms, Vogel said to
the younger Van Derma. "Greg, despite what your father
said, your trainee has progressed very well if what I've
seen in the photos Mr. Michaels took is true. When my new
bitch in ready to be trained to deep throat, I would like
to have your Jennifer's assistance."

Jennifer's gag hid any smile, but her eyes gleamed in
vengeful pride when her master replied, "When she finishes
the rest of her training, she is yours."

The defeated Miss Van Derma was lead away.

"So Mr. Michaels." The patriarch turned his attention to
me. "How much did my daughter promise you."

"Fifteen grand. Five thousand when I took the case and the
rest when I delivered."

He sighed, "She was a cheap bitch. These photos are
excellent. Easily as good as any a mutual friend of ours
has gotten from you. I will give you a check for twenty
thousand for your troubles, Mr. Michaels.

"And if my friend doesn't complain to me about how you
raped him for these pictures, I suggest that you get your
head examined."

I drove away in a daze. I was now out of debt with more
than a little left over. The Van Dermas also had my card;
the devil had my pink slip. I was looking forward to a
well earned and need drunk.

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Wednesday, July 28, 2004

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Sunday, July 25, 2004

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Hurt Me Part 1


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WARNING -- This is a sexually explicit story and is unsuitable for
children under the age of eighteen.

This work is ed by the author 2004. Please do not remove
the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post
freely to noncommercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial
sites. Thank you for your consideration.


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Hurt Me Part 1

These urges usually come over me when I am really down on myself--it's
like I know I need to be punished for being so horribly flawed. This last
time I had really fucked up at work and just barely squeaked by as far as
not getting fired. I was in the basement mentally and even though it was a
warm and sunny Saturday I just couldn't shake the feelings of
worthlessness. I paced about the apartment for a while and then decided a
good strenuous walk might help my mood or at least exhaust me into taking a
nap.

I quickly established an aggressive pace, breaking a sweat before I'd
left the block. I walked out of my residential neighborhood and headed for
a service road that travels through some light industry before entering a
wild, overgrown area that runs near the freeway. I was head-down and
panting my way up the incline that leads from the last of the parking lots
and my brain was still spiraling around the central truth of my own
inadequacy. I was trudging along sidewalks that were growing more and more
encroached upon by weeds as I began to notice larger and larger plants
signalling my entry into the untended part of the road.

The flora may not have been my primary focus but some part of my brain
noted that amongst the grass that was going to seed and the poke berry
there was the occasional thistle with its spike-fringed leaves and tufts of
woolly seeds and the woody vines of brambles studded with evilly barbed
thorns. The two threads of my thoughts collided suddenly and I knew what I
had to do. It wasn't like I hadn't done it before. This would only be the
latest chapter in a long history of indulgence albeit an indulgence that I
had not partaken of since I was a teenager. I stopped, looked up and down
the deserted road, and picked my way into the woods that ran thick and
unbroken on that side of the road.

I hadn't gone far before turning back revealed that I would be utterly
invisible to anyone walking or driving along the road. A few more steps
and the trees opened into a clearing that afforded the underbrush enough
light to have encouraged a veritable explosion of creepers and weeds. I
made sure all my favorites were present and began to strip off my shirt and
running shorts. My chest was pounding with anticipation. My breathing
came shallow and quick. I kept my shoes and socks on to avoid stepping on
the abundant twigs and briars that covered the ground. Once I was naked,
my full breasts heaving on my surging chest, my firmly curved buttocks
prickly with sweat, I surveyed nature's offerings and made up my mind.

I don't know the name of this plant, but it is uniquely well suited for
what I needed. It grows about a foot high and is covered with thin, sharp
needles of translucent thorns all along its stems and particularly on the
underside of its ragged-edged leaves. Better still, the thorns have some
irritant sap in or on them so that the skin of anyone that scrapes on them
raises up in welts that tingle in a way slightly milder than the reaction
to a bee sting. I spied a healthy specimen on the ground and using a
technique I perfected in my younger days, I crouched and slid my pussy up
the main stalk of the plant so as to turn the leaves upside down and then
settled my ass to the ground, pinning the plant between my pussy lips and
anus and the ground. An electric thrill traveled along every nerve in my
body! The thickest part of the stem with its correspondingly hardier
prickers was jammed right into my butt crack where the needles could bite
into the tender flesh. The leaves were spread out across the breadth of my
shaved pussy so that countless daggers stabbed my folds of skin and the
thinner part of the stem raked right up into my pussy. I was
simultaneously aroused and in pain--it was a mixture that I found was
already lightening my mood. I shifted and felt a myriad of pinpoints of
pain until I could feel my swelling clit come right up against several
needles. I wiggled and squirmed--working the prickers into my skin to
enjoy the fullest sense of pain. I was practically feeding off the pain.
But I needed more--I was far from satiated.

I stood up and looked down at the poor broken plant that I had crushed
for my own perverse needs. Don't worry, I thought to myself, your big
brothers will avenge you. Nearby there was a thicket of brambles. I
approached it, sizing up its intricate web of thick vines and thinner
runners all of which where covered with curved thorns like those on a rose
bush. On the older growth the thorns were long and brown and looked like
the extended claws of a cat. The younger growth's thorns were still green
and their tips were fresh and sharp--coming to needle thin points that
gleamed in the filtered sunlight. It was a delicate operation that I next
performed. The key is to limit the pain to the erogenous zones--the pussy,
the ass (especially the anus), the breasts, while avoiding pain in the rest
of the body. I first located a thick bunch of older vines that had sagged
under their own weight and carefully straddled them. Provided I didn't
move the vines were merely a slightly unpleasant presence against my pussy
as I proceeded. Next I reached two more old-growth vines that were in
front of me and lifted them over my head and laid them against my ass so
that the tension in the vines held the thorns against my butt cheeks.
Finally, I carefully collected several of the more flexible younger runners
and pulled them toward myself. I cautiously guided one up under my left
breast and curled it up and over and then did the same with my right breast
making a rough figure eight. Before releasing the vine I sank the tiny
prickers near the end of the runner into my left nipple. I repeated the
process with several more runners until I had woven a briar brassiere. By
now my skin was an angry red with small white dots from where I had sat on
the first plant. I was itchy and sweaty and the audacity of my
self-imposed situation had me more than a little scared. But I was also on
fire with sexual desire and energy. Further, my self-torment had wiped my
depression from my mind. After all, I was punishing myself--this was just
what I deserved. I braced myself for what was to come.

With a mixture of dread and eager anticipation I forced my left foot
forward. Although I moved it only six inches the shift in my position
brought a wide variety of pain coursing along my nervous system. My pussy
lips were torn in places as the briars stuck and then lost their grip on my
yielding flesh. In other areas of my groin the sharper thorns took hold
and refused to let go. Instead they dug into the flesh which was then
pulled tight by my movement. The vines across my ass scraped brutally
across the firm flesh--unable to get a good grip but willing to lacerate me
in their attempts. The tension in the runners that formed my bizarre bra
dug hundreds of tiny sabers into my satin breasts starting tiny droplets of
blood here and there. I carefully reached down and began massaging my
pulsating clit. God, the feelings were astounding--how had I not let
myself experience this for so long? Next came six inches with my right
foot. I gasped as a well entrenched thorn in my crotch broke free of the
vine to which it had been attached resulting in a sudden, sickening
shifting of vines across my pussy. My breasts were visibly deformed by
now--pulled in a dozen directions as they were. Another shuffle and a
whimper escaped my lips. I was rubbing my bud like crazy as I began to
move again and one of the thicker vines between my legs shifted suddenly
and I shrieked as it tore across my clit, stabbing first it and then my
busy finger with a talon-like thorn. I started to feel dizzy and was about
to come so I shuffled back quickly to avoid the potential disaster of a
faint. I began disentangling myself vine by vine with one hand while the
other worked me closer and closer to orgasm. I had my breasts cleared when
I heard a twig snap behind me.

Not thinking, I whirled, and paid the price as the vines that still ran
along my slit tore into my anus as I twisted. I silenced a gasp of pain
and stared directly into the eyes of the foremost of two teenage boys that
had entered my clearing.

"What's the bitch doing," one wondered aloud.

"Hey, lady, are you crazy or something?" The other boy, a black youth
about sixteen asked me.

"I, I, do this for fun..." I answered lamely, covering my bleeding tits
with my hands, wincing as much from embarrasment as the persistent pain in
my ass. "It's hard to explain."

"I guess so," the first boy, a white boy of about fifteen, mused.

"Why don't you explain it while you're sucking my cock," the black kid
chuckled. He stepped closer and reached out a hand to help me out of the
brambles.

Not sure what else to do, I accepted his help and disentabled my ass
from the attacking vines and stepped clear of the thicket. I stood there,
no longer shielding by bloody nakedness and panted with my simmering
arousal, fear, and humiliation.

"She's all cut up," the white boy complained.

"Her face ain't and she's hot, even with the blood," the black boy used
his grip on my hand to pull me down and I willingly sank to my knees in
front of him. "Take it out," was all he said.

I wasn't really thinking, I suppose. It was likely the adrenaline and
excitement of my that had me high enough that this seemed like a
natural thing to have happen. I reached up with both hands and unfastened
the button of his jeans and lowered the zipper. I could see the rod of his
growing penis running down one leg. I pulled his pants and white briefs
down enough to see his dense pubes and the base few inches of his veined
cock. I hooked a thumb under the semi-rigid penis and pulled it out. It
sprang to attention and looked me right in the mouth. It seemed the only
reasonable thing to do to lean forward, lips parted, and take him into my
mouth. He felt hot and smooth as he slipped past my lips, over my tongue,
and into the recesses of my mouth. I could smell his musk and it was not
at all unpleasant. I closed my mouth around him and began the rhythmic
motion that I know a man enjoys. I took him deeper and deeper but not
being much at deep throat, I didn't let him go too far. That was until he
grabbed the back of my head in his two strong hands and pushed into me past
my limit of comfort. I struggled and gagged but he would have none of
that--he just kept up a steady pressure and I swallowed and gagged and took
him deeper than any man I ever had. It was only a few deep thrusts before
he pulled back and unloaded gush after burning gush of semen onto my tongue
and down my throat. I gulped him down and then held him gently in my silky
mouth until he pulled himself free.

"God damn, girl, you can sure suck a cock!"

"Now me, come on," the white boy was ready.

I sucked him off too, he was smaller and less experienced and I was the
one who initiated the deep throat this time--it wasn't the most comfortable
thing in the world but the scariness of gagging was somewhat reminiscent of
the thrill of feeling the pain from the thorns. I was going hot and heavy
with the boy when I felt a sharp pain on first my left pussy lip, then my
right lip, and then on both. I pulled off the boy's cock to look down.
The black kid had snapped off two short lengths of vine and was gently
massaging them into my pussy lips--stimulating me like he had seen me do
myself. He smiled up at me from where he crouched next to his buddy's leg
as he reached his free hand out and began massaging my clit between the two
vines. I moaned and went back to sucking the white kid. Suddenly he came
voluminously and loudly. I sucked him clean, pulled off his cock, and then
hugged him around the waist for support. His friend was working magic with
my cunt and I began moaning, crying out, and coming. I came and came and
came. I probably hurt the white boy from my squeezing, but he didn't
complain.

When I was finished I sat down in one of the few areas clear of sticks
and briars and gazed up at my new friends.

"Motherfucker that was awesome," the white kid said with the exuberance
of a boy who has recently been freed of his virginity.

"Fuck, yeah," agreed his friend. "But what I want to know is when do we
get to fuck your pussy?"

I laughed and shook my head at the two grateful boys. "You can fuck me
whenever you want," I told them.

Their jaws dropped open at that.

"But you have to help me with something," I warned them.

My statement was welcomed by a random mixture of "sure" and "anything"
followed closely by a slightly suspicious "What is it?" from the black guy.

"This was fun and all," I said, waving to the vines and the boys as if
this had all been a planned event. "But I see what I want now. Look up in
that tree right there."

The boys followed my arm and with a little coaching located the grey
mass about thirty feet up in a nearby tree. You could faintly see small
flying objects entering and leaving the lowest end of the mass.

"That's a hornet nest!" exclaimed the white boy.

His friend, who was quick on the uptake, looked at me knowingly. "She
knows that, asshole. She wants them to sting her, am I right?"

"Smart boy," I admired him, "I think we are going to have a lot of fun
together."

"Shit, yeah! So you want us to get some of those hornets for you,
right?"

"The whole nest."

"Fuck."

"I'll tell you how to do it--it won't be easy but we can pull it off
without you guys getting stung. But first get me my clothes and come back
to my apartment so I can shower and we can fuck on something softer than
this ground."

It didn't take any convincing to get them to cooperate with that.

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