The Woodsman Ch. 1

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Sarah never liked the woods. At 29 she had avoided camping and hiking for most of her life and only went along when she felt fairness obligated her too. She was a city person. She loved museums and theaters and the sound of traffic. She found herself lost now, in thick undergrowth, alone sleepy and tired. She had Peter to blame for this.

She had agreed to spend the weekend camping with her boyfriend only after much begging on his part. She agreed to try it, for his sake. Once they had set up the camp things had progressed as she had expected. He spent his time showing off and she spent her time trying to keep from breaking her neck. This continued until he decided to play. He began by tickling her. She literally hated being tickled and when she broke away from him she had run. Of course he chased her, tickling being his idea of foreplay, he fully expected to catch her and have wild sex with her. What he did not calculate was that she would run so fast or so far. Sarah was lost before the tension she felt from the tickling had worn off.

Now she wondered through the woods calling his name. She had read the ranger warnings about bears and hoped her yelling might also serve to scare them away. She was wearing a pair of sandals and with each step she regretted it. Brambles and sticks cut and bruised her feet. She debated with herself whether the best course of action was to just stay put. As she pondered she looked up to see smoke. Smoke meant fire and fire meant people she reasoned. She made her way to the source of the smoke.

The cabin she found lay on the edge of the woods. As she approached she saw that from the front porch the owner had an expansive view of a meadow that was cut by a stream. This fact somehow gave her confidence that the person who owned the cabin was not a monster. This was too pretty a spot for a monsters home.

She walked to the door and knocked. The fact that her journey seemed over gave her mind freedom to feel the pain in her feet. The ached, and the small cuts and scraps burned.

The man who came to the door was huge by any standard. Sarah guessed his height at 6’5″. He had very long blond hair and a not so well trimmed beard. “Just my luck,” she thought. “I found Grizzly Adam’s.”

He waved her in and asked, “you lost?”

She tried not to role her eyes at the question and simply answered, “yes.” She wondered how else he thought she might have arrived.

“This is not the place to get lost,” he said with a faint smile and Belek travesti avoiding her eyes. “You better have a seat.”

Sarah looked around the room. She could see the entire interior from her position in the entranceway. There was a wood stove in the center of the room and a very sparse kitchen to her right. The living room/bedroom was too her left. She limped her way to the only chair in the room, and old and very warn rocker halfway between the bed and the woodstove. She looked up at the stranger and laughed. “I sure didn’t plan to get lost,” she said, “My name is Sarah.”

The tall man smiled and introduced himself as Adam. He looked at her battered feet and she noticed his face wince in sympathy. “Take those sandals off. We need to tend those feet.”

She did not hesitate to do as he suggested. Her feet ached and the straps of the sandals were digging painfully into the top of her foot. She forgot, or did not allow herself to remember, her response to having her feet played with. Many nights, as Peter moved within her, he would take her foot in his hands and attack her toes and arch with his mouth. The feeling of having her toes sucked combined with his hardness filling her guaranteed her orgasm. She did not think of this now. Her mind was occupied with the pain she felt and the uneasiness she felt from being in the presence of this huge stranger.

He took a kettle from atop the woodstove and half filled a basin. He took the basin to a sink and carefully began to add cold water from a pail that sat next to his rustic sink. She watched as carefully tested the waters temperature. Watching his great care and the meticulousness of his most simple movements made her relax and she began to feel an odd tingling rise up her spine to the back of her head. It was a pleasant feeling and knowing it was something she was watching which was causing it, she continued to watch with increasing intensity.

He made his way back to where she was sitting and pulled a small stool up in front of her. He carefully placed the basin on the floor beside him. She looked in his eyes and for the first time he smiled.

“Pretty ladies like you should not go wandering around alone in the woods,” he said paternally.

Sarah guessed his age at 30. He spoke to her in a tone that suggested that he felt superior to her. She felt her anger rise but resisted her impulse to respond. She was a guest and dependent on his good will. She resigned herself to playing the role Kemer travesti of the pretty lady and swallowing her feminist pride she simply said, “I know. I do get silly once in a while.”

“If it’s ok I am going to clean your feet up a little before you soak them,” he stated. It was not a request and before she could answer his huge hand had moved behind her calf and lifted it to his lap. He took a cloth and moistened it and began to wash away the grime that covered her right foot. He moved slowly. He washed each toe in its turn. His strong right hand held her foot as his left cleaned and massaged each toe with care. Again she found herself feeling that tingle on the back of her head but now is extended further down her back and she felt the first stirrings of arousal deep within her belly.

“Your legs are very tense,” the stranger mumbled. He worked his palms to the outside of her calf and very gradually applied pressure there. He squeezing and pumped his hands, working deeply into her sore muscle.

Sarah sighed deeply as she felt this huge stranger making love to her calf. He mine could fine no other word to describe what was happening. He was loving her and she did not yet know his name.

She lifted her free leg and placed it over his thigh. She leaned back into the rocking chair and began to rock using the leg on his thigh as her engine. She sighed and sake further into the chair. He tan shorts rising up her leg as she slid downward. She began to wonder if this giant was a giant in all ways and she wrestled with the idea of touching his crotch with her foot. She was so close now. She could do it in a way that would convince him it was accidental. She tilted her foot and let her toes graze his cock through his jeans. She nearly jumped when she felt his size. She began to stroke his hardening cock through his jeans.

His hands wondered up her legs. His calloused hands were slowly running up each inner thigh. She bowed her legs and moved her other foot to his crotch. ” I think you need to free that thing of yours. Keeping it locked away must hurt,” she whispered.

His right hand moved from her thigh and without standing he undid and unzipped his pants. Sarah watched as he pulled his cock free from its prison. It stood erect, pointing gallantly up toward his navel.

She stared at his hardness and moaned with satisfaction. “It’s so beautiful,” was all she managed to say.

Before she finished her sentence his hands had griped her shorts. Konyaaltı travesti She raised her hips and allowed him to remove them from her. He slid a hand along the fringe of her panty. Hooking his finger toward her body he slowly worked his hand toward her wet labia. He found her opening and let his finger slide between her opening lips.

Sarah’s breathing quickened and her feet returned to his cock. She gripped it between the toes of both feet and began to move them up and down over its straining length. He gripped the sides of her panties and ripped them from her. He stood up far enough to free the stool he sat on and tossed it from under him. He lay on the floor in front of her and grabbed one of her ankles. He pulled her foot back to his cock. She looked in his eyes and saw a pleading there she had never seen before. She raised her other foot and griped his cock as she had before. Looking down on him excited her. She heard herself ask, “is this what you want?”

He moaned, “Yes, please make me come. Make me come on your feet.”

She began to move her feet with purpose now. At first she was nervous about being ruff but soon she jerked him with a fire and desire that did not allow her to worry. Her own hand moved to her mound. “Watch me,” she ordered. At her command his eyes raised and he watched. The power she was feeling was enormous and this only served to heighten her desire. She used her palm at first to delay the intense pleasure she knew she would feel. She watched as pre-come began to leak from the head of his penis. As she watched she slipped two fingers into herself and began to flick at her clitoris with her thumb. She felt the silky wetness building on her fingers. She felt his hips begin to move. He was fucking the gap between her feet like a wild man.

“You’re going to come for Sarah,” she growled, “all over Sarah’s feet.”

“Yes fuck yes god I am oh fuck yes,” he bellowed.

“Your gonna mess up Sarah’s feet,” she teased. “Get em all wet and sticky with you messy ole come.”

“God yes.”

“You’ll have to lick them, fuck, god I am god, clean, coming!

“Yes Sarah, yes Sarah!” His hot come shot over her feet. She felt his heat as it splashed up over her instep. Her toes were awash in his come, and she felt herself spasm and over and over again.

When his orgasm had subsided she waved him closer. He lay directly beneath her feet now. She offered her left foot to his mouth and she watched and his tongue began to lick and lap it clean. She felt the power of the moment and began to feel something else. She began to feel the power of his submission to her. She wanted now to please him even more than she had before. She was certain that this evening would not end until they were both sated.

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The Wild Rose

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From the first day he saw her, he knew she was the one. It was the middle of October. Fall had arrived and the trees had changed into their yellow, red and orange attire. She was standing on the porch of a small picturesque house. Like Snow White her alabaster skin glowed in the sunshine, and her delicate hands were carefully arranging a rose bush in a pot. Suddenly she looked up and in his direction. As she stared into his eyes and smiled, Nick could feel a stirring in his stomach. A tingle that he had not felt in a long time. Raven black hair and intense green eyes. But her lips were what caught his eyes. Lips the color of the roses that grew down the river all bloody and wild. He had to find out who she was.

From that day on he saw her many times. Downtown grocery shopping. By the cinema. In the small cafe on upper street. The launderette. He once even caught a glimpse of her putting in a red camisole into the washing machine. If she had known how many nights he spent fantasizing about her in it.

It turned out she had recently moved to town. This small provincial town where everyone knew everyone. Thank god for that, or he would have had a much harder time finding out who she was. According to Mrs Callgate she was in her late 20s and had inherited the house from an old aunt. Her name was Elisa Day. She was a big town girl, but had fallen in love with the house and decided to move into it. That’s how she had ended up on the countryside. From what Mrs Callgate knew, the raven haired beauty was single. Nick thanked his good fortune.

It was not until another two weeks later that Nick got the chance to talk to her for the first time. Halloween was just around the corner, and Mrs Callgate had asked him to deliver a basket of Halloween decorations to Elisa. Naturally Nick was more than happy to oblige, it was the excuse he had been waiting for.

Carrying the basket filled of various decorations, anything from pumpkins to garlands and hand-made witch figures (made by Mrs Callgate herself), Nick walked through the gate and towards the blue house. Drawing in a deep breath, he knocked on the door. Someone was moving inside the house, he could hear the footsteps. Now they were coming nearer. The handle went down and the door opened.


When he knocked on her door, her heart made a leap. She had seen him many times before. Downtown grocery shopping. By the cinema. In the small cafe on upper street. The launderette. At times she had wondered if he was following her, but she doubted it. Why would he? He seemed like a nice man. Mrs Callgate had told her his name was Nick. He was in his early 30s, and apparently single. As he now stood before her in the doorway, Elisa’s body began to tremble. His dark brown hair was longish and kept falling into his eyes. He looked at her with his equally dark brown eyes peeking from underneath the bangs. The look he gave her was intense. There was something about it. Was it lust? Desire? Or was it just her imagination?


“Hi, I’m Nick. Mrs Callgate asked me to drop by with these decorations.” He handed her the basket. She seemed a bit perplexed by the content.

“It’s for your Halloween decorations,” Nick explained, feeling slightly stupid. “Mrs Callgate thought you might not have any, and over here everyone decorates their house. There’s some town contest too, I believe.” Boy, did he feel stupid.

“Oh, thanks,” Elisa said and smiled. “I’m sure the decorations will be of use. Nice to meet you by the way.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” He couldn’t help looking into those deep green eyes again. They were even more beautiful up close. There seemed to lurk a hidden wild streak in them. And he could read something else. Desire? Lust? Or was it just his imagination?

“Would you like to come in?” she said, and made a gesture into the house.

“I don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not.” And the sound of her voice made Nick believe she wanted him to come in. Probably equally much as he wanted to walk over that threshold and enter her humble abode.

“Thank you.” Nick took a step forward, his boot clad feet stepping over the wooden hallway floor. He could hear her close the door behind him.

“This is a nice living room,” Nick said while looking around. The room was brightly painted in light blue and white colors. There were hardly any furniture, but he assumed it was because she had just moved in.

“I’m Elisa Day,” she said and handed him one of those delicate hands. “I’m sorry we haven’t been properly introduced before. I’ve seen you around though.”

He took her hand and shook it. “You have?”

“Yes,” she said, a light blush spreading across her cheeks. “Now and then. Downtown.

“I’ve seen you too.” Nick gave her his most charming smile. He could sense something going on, but he wasn’t sure if he was reading her right. The last thing he needed was to misinterpret her. After all, she was new in town and he wanted to get to know her.

“I believe the first time I saw you was two weeks Lara Travesti ago, am I right?”

“Yes, I believe so. You were standing on your porch and planting a rose bush.” Nick tilted his head slightly to the right. “Do you like roses?”

“I love them.”

“Me too.”

A strange silence followed.

“Eh, well thanks for coming over with the decorations,” Elisa said, feeling a bit nervous. She wasn’t sure why she was nervous, but it had something to do with Nick’s presence. He was an attractive man. Tall, handsome and with a mischievous smile. She had already fallen in love with his high cheekbones and the prominent jaw line.

“Would you like something to drink?” she asked in an attempt to get him to stay.

“Thanks, but you really don’t need to…”

“Oh, it’s not trouble at all!” Elisa said, happy that he had said yes. “I’ll be right back with some tea.” With quick steps Elisa turned around and walked out into the kitchen. Nick’s eyes followed the subtle swinging of her hips. Her hipster pants emphasizing her natural curves and shapely rear.


“This has been really nice,” Nick said. He had been at her house for three hours. In this short time they had covered a lot of topics, he felt as if they had known each other for the longest time.

“You know what, Nick?” Elisa said. “This will sound strange, but it feels like we’ve known each other much longer.”

“I know what you mean,” Nick nodded. “Perhaps it’s a sign?”

She laughed. It was a sweet laugh.

“Perhaps it is…”

“May I ask you something?”

“Sure, but I can’t promise I’ll answer.”

“How come you’re single? I mean, you’re beautiful, smart and well…plain lovely.” Nick couldn’t help blushing.

Elisa looked up and gave him a shy smile, but her eyes had a sudden sadness to them.

“I’m…I’m not too good with relationships,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“I…don’t trust men.”

“You’ve been hurt?” he asked, careful not to upset her.

“Well,” Elisa began. “It was my father…he…” She went quiet.

“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. I understand.” Nick put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“I’d rather not go into any detail, but he did some…things to me,” Elisa said in a low voice. “I’m over it, but… No wait, I guess I’m not over it. How could I ever be after what he did? But I’ve gotten on with my life.” She looked up and smiled that sweet smile again. The one that showed her deep dimples. Nick smiled back. Before he knew it he had his arms around her. He could feel his hands on her back, pulling her into his embrace. He hugged her. And what a hug.

Elisa was trembling once again. It had been a long time since she had been in the arms of a man – her father’s. Within her she was struggling; should she push Nick away, or give in to the hug? But it felt so nice. His strong arms around her. The feeling of his breath against the back of her neck. She could smell the faint cologne. There was something about this man. This Nick. She couldn’t tell what it was, but she trusted him. She felt safe with him. And then her trembling subsided in his sure embrace. And she knew; he would be her first man.

He could hear her breathing change. It was more ragged and he thought he heard something that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle. Gently he pulled himself away from her, but kept his hands on her shoulder and arm. She was crying. His raven haired beauty was crying. Clear droplets of tears were streaming down her cheeks.

“Don’t worry, you’re safe,” Nick said, not really knowing what else to say. With a careful hand he wiped at the tears that ran down her face.

She felt his fingertip brush against her cheek. As he wiped away the last teardrop, Elisa caught his wrist, and redirected his hand. She put his hand to her cheek, letting the curve of his palm cup her face. As Nick traced the outline of her jaw line, Elisa could feel the beating of her heart accelerate. She wanted him. She wanted him badly. At the same time she was scared. Terrified. What if he wasn’t the person she saw before her? What if he had some dark side to him?

“Nick,” she said. “Promise me something.”


“Don’t hurt me.”

“I won’t.”

“Don’t play any games. I can’t stand games.”

“Neither can I.”


“Promise.” And Nick knew he would never play any games. He would never lie to her. He would never forget the way her eyes had rendered the painful memories of her youth.

“I’ll do anything for you.”

“Will you take care of me? Cater to every fantasy I’ve got? Will you take me places I’ve never gone?”

“I can do that.” They leant closer. Their lips almost touching.

“Will you make it all a little less cold…” He could see her red lips parting.

“I can do that.” And with that Nick kissed her. Her full lips were against his, and his body pressed against her’s.


Their kisses hungry, their bodies burning and their minds entwined. Nick’s feelings Manavgat travesti were known and shared. He graced his lips over her exposed neck, feeling her body slowly relaxing, giving in to him.

Her face touched his, he felt the eyelashes against him at the same moment she found his sex and, stroking it, brought it to life.

He let his eyes close. This time she kissed him, and he felt his passion collecting. Roughly she parted his lips. Hungrily she kissed him. She was surprised at her own desire. It had been so long since she had felt something like this. So long since she had let herself go.

Elisa’s hand worked around Nick’s erection. She could almost feel how it wanted to burst through the cotton fabric chinos. She unbuttoned the pants, and carefully pulled down the zipper. Freeing his sex to go its full length, she looked down and uttered some small oath under her breath.

The anticipation of finally having her touch him was almost unbearable. Never had he wanted anyone as much. To kiss her. Make love to her. Devour her. He wanted to grasp her hand and steer her to his throbbing manhood. To feel her hands on him. As he felt her slightly cold hands on his hot sex, he let out a gasp.

She was hesitant at first. It was beautiful, but also held a certain powerful presence that she hadn’t noticed before. It was not that long, but thick and hard. Very hard. The bulbous head had a reddish tint, and a clear liquid had seeped out from the tip. She felt the weight in her hands. And then she moved her slender fingers up and down the hard shaft.

“Oh yes,” he moaned. “That feels great.” He could feel her fingers going up and down, first carefully, as if she was afraid to hurt him. Then the grip tightened. He let out another moan to let her know he liked it. The grip tightened once more. He was in heaven.

He felt the smoky perfume between her naked legs. The hair was hot and wet. He nuzzled his head into it and felt the silk skin of her thighs against his cheeks. Her eager hands tugging at him. Pulling him towards her sex. Holding on to her thighs he dived in. The perfume of her sex got stronger. It was going to his head. Taking him in fully. With one hand he parted the puffy outer lips. Spreading them gently. Exposing her most private parts to him. It was a bright pink. Bright pink, and with two smaller lips that lead to her most sensitive spot.

He stuck out his tongue. Tasted her. First a couple of light licks. She shuddered. Then a couple more. Her legs parted and gave him easier access. Suddenly he flattened his tongue and gave her a hard lick. Her hand was tugging at his hair.

Nick was getting more and more aroused by Elisa’s movements. He could feel the way her body responded. He could hear her labored breathing as he let the top of his tongue grace her clit, the tremble in her legs as he licked up and down her gorgeous pussy. The way her body shuddered as it felt his fingers penetrating into her, and finally the way her hips grinded into his face as she reached her climax with his fingers pumping into her at a fast pace. Tongue working her hot sex and lapping her flowing juices.

She urged him to cover her. His weight came down above her, almost crushing her. The first nudge terrified her. Let there be pain. She gave a long gasp as she felt him penetrating her. And then all of her body opened up, welcoming him. And when it came again, hard, thick and pounding, she found herself moving with it. She caught onto the rhythm quickly. It was as if they were meant for this. Meant to do this together.

“Are you ok?” Nick whispered.

“Yes,” Elisa answered. “I’m…ok.”

“Tell me if you want me to stop. If it hurts.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Tell me if you don’t want me to go on. Promise me.”

“I want you to go on.” She bucked her hips against his and made a rotating motion. He almost lost his balance.

He was inside of her again. His hands sought the hot flesh behind her knees, the wet warmth under her breasts, her rounded calves, and her mouth. A multitude of tiny crevices, creases, secrets. She was his to explore.

At one point he was under her, feeling her delicious weight on top of him. The view was spectacular. Her full breasts moving to the rhythm of her movements. The black hair bouncing as she went up and down on him. He could even see her lips opening up, taking him in. Pushing down on him. All the way down, and then up again. He could see her glistening wetness on his member.

He felt an incredible urge to rise and take her in his arms again. Crush her with kisses. Lay her back down. Lift her by her slender waist and ravish her. Suddenly he was engulfed by the feeling of her tight opening. The warmth. The wetness. He felt himself stiffen, gasp. She rode him viciously, working him deeper inside her. Harder. Faster. A hand reaching for her clit, touching it. Working it. Abusing it. And then it happened. That familiar explosion in his brain that seemed to wipe out all time.

She could Side travesti feel the muscles tightening around his hard cock. And then he came. She could feel him coming inside of her. The stiffening of his body underneath her, then the release. Her own body welcomed it. Welcomed him. Her muscles tightened around him as he came. Squeezing him. Helping him.

She collapsed on him. Feeling his nakedness. His heart beating against hers in unison. She thrust her heated face into the crook of his shoulder. Cradling him. Holding him. Loving him. Kissing him with the tenderest mouth.


On the second day Nick brought Elisa a flower, she was more beautiful than any woman he had seen. Dressed in regular jeans and a simple white top, she still looked like the woman of his dreams. She was busy putting up the Halloween decorations.

“Do you think I should have a witch on the front door?” she happily asked.

“I don’t know, do you want to?” Nick laughed.

“I’m not sure, let’s try it out.” Elisa hung one of Mrs Callgate’s hand-made witches on the front door. It didn’t look too bad.

“You know what?” she said. “I think it suits. Let’s keep it there.” Then she turned to Nick and gave him a broad smile.

“What have you got behind your back?”


“More decorations?”

“No, something else.”

“No clue.”

Nick held out the flower. It was a single red rose. “To the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“Oh my, thanks!” Elisa was thrilled. “I’ll put in water right away!” Nick followed her into the small kitchen. Leaning against the sink he watched her put the rose in a slim vase.

“Do you know where the wild roses grow?” Nick suddenly asked.

“The wild roses?” She turned to face him.

“Yes, the wild roses. They’re wonderful. They remind me of you. So sweet, scarlet and free.” He smiled.

“Where do they grow?” Elisa asked.

“A very special place. Some say it’s a magical place. They always look the most beautiful around Halloween.”

“That’s funny,” she said. “Most roses have finished blooming by then.”

“I know, but not these. These are special ones.”

“I’m intrigued.”

“If I show you the roses, will you follow?”

Elisa looked at Nick. There was a sudden eagerness in his voice. She nodded.

“I will.”


Halloween had arrived. Kids were running around dressed in the usual costumes. A vampire here, a witch there. A few Freddy Kreuger’s, some guys wearing hockey masks, and of course the increasingly popular Scream mask. Nick especially liked the one where you could press a pump and red blood would run down the mask.

Elisa was waiting for him at her place, they would go through the trick or treat session together. He would open the door and she would give the candy.

There was a knock on the door. The first group of kids had arrived.

“TRICK OR TREAT?” they yelled and giggled.

“Wow, you guys look great!” Nick said and inspected the three boys dressed up in capes, boots and holding out backpacks before him. “Let me guess, you’re all dwarfs.”

“Hmpf!” The first one muttered. “We’re not dwarfs, we’re halflings.”

“Yeah, we’re Hobbitts!” another boy squealed.

“Oh, uh, my mistake.” Nick looked at the boys again. Now he could see they all held walking sticks in one hand, and the middle boy, the insulted one, had a ring hanging in a chain around his neck.

“Yes, now I see it. You’re Frodo,” he said pointing at the boy with the ring. “And you must be Sam.” He looked at the red haired boy with freckles. “And you…eh, who are you?”

The third boy was the youngest. Nothing particular about him. He wore a similar cape and glasses.

“I’m Harry Potter,” the little boy said.

“Harry Potter? I didn’t know Potter traveled with Hobbitts…” Elisa pushed Nick out of the way and gave each boy a bag of candy.

“There you are boys, have a good evening!” She happily waved after them before closing the door.

“Since when did Harry Potter travel with Hobbitts?” Nick said.

“Shush, be quiet.” Elisa slapped him playfully on the arm. “In the future perhaps I should open the door, and you give the candy.”

“But…” Nick started.

“And who are you dressed up as then?” Elisa interjected, looking at Nick’s usual chino’s and turtle necked sweater.

“Patrick Bateman from American Psycho,” Nick grinned.


The candy was finished, and the last group of children had left. Nick and Elisa were lying in the sofa, exhausted.

“I never knew giving children candy could be so tiresome,” Nick sighed.

“Neither did I,” Elisa agreed. She moved around a bit and placed her head in his lap.

“Give me your loss and your sorrow.”

Elisa looked up at Nick.


“It’s from a song,” he explained.

“Oh, ok.” Elisa laid down again. Nick was playing with her hair.

Suddenly she could feel Nick stirring.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“Go where?” she looked at him with a confused face expression.

“To the river.”

“The river? NOW? It’s late!”

“You said you wanted to see the roses.”

“Well, yes, but it’s late and I’m tired.” Elisa sat up and looked at Nick. Once again his face expression had changed. This time he looked much more serious.

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The Vicar of St. Dunstan’s Ep. 11

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Small towns and small parishes are full of odd connections, and concepts acquire new descriptions in old places. For example, spiritual direction can take on a whole new meaning. . .

The pungent, ammonia-laced aroma of disinfectant invaded my sinuses. It didn’t matter that it was private hospital that catered to those accustomed to the best, with lavish decoration that could make one think it was an Continental Spa: it had a hospital smell no amount of air freshener could neutralize. I strolled down the hallway of the geriatric ward to a corner room, and entered.

The lights were dim in the brightening morning; the blinds drawn shut to protect Lucinda Parkhurst-Frazelton’s eyes from the morning glare off the concrete box building across from her west window. Monitors tracked her heart rate, breathing, and blood pressure, and an IV dripped into the back of her left hand. It seemed a breath of wind could crush the fragile woman lying before me, her chest barely stirring under her blanket, her eyes closed, her lips very slightly parted.

As I stood there looking at her, I became aware of a presence at the foot of the bed. It was a big, dark lump in the pale illumination, but as my eyes adjusted, I realized that it was a person, a nun praying at the foot of the bed. The contour of her face in the twilight was smooth, like a fine marble statue of a child, but I saw her lips moving slightly. Her eyes were shut and her delicate fingers traversed a simple, dark wooden Rosary. Lost in prayer, she seemed unaware of my presence, and I grew still as well in respect for her devotion.

After about two minutes, Lucinda stirred a little, looking my direction with her eyes barely closed, her eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Barbie, Barbie dear,” came a surprising strong voice, “make sure Alfie gets his Altoids, there’s a good lass.”

My jaw dropped instantly, but the nun paid Lucinda’s rambling no attention, continuing her prayer. Lucinda relaxed and faded back into a deeper slumber. When I recovered from my fright, I found myself entering a kind of meditation paralleling the nun kneeling at the foot of the bed.

I was jostled from my reverie by someone rising from the floor. She caught my eye, started slightly, and then beckoned me to leave the room with her. After a parting glance at Lucinda, I followed her out the door.

She turned to me and said: “From the Anglican Dog Collar, I would hazard a guess that you’re the Vicar of St. Dunstan’s.”

“Yes. You may call me Alfred.”

“Thank you, Father Alfred. I’m Mother Mary Rufus, of St. George’s Convent.”

“Alfred, please. We’re in the same business, so to speak, workers in the same vineyard. I’ve heard of the convent, it’s not far from here, is it?”

“No, just outside civilization; an easy bus ride. We run a soup kitchen nearby.”

“Of course, I know where you’re talking about. Kent House, isn’t it?Mother Mary Rufus: that would make you the Prioress, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, very perceptive of you. You have leadership responsibility as well, running a parish.”

“I thought all Prioresses were old dumpy women with warts and wrinkles.” Mother Mary Rufus was almost my height; her face was smooth and clear, and her serene, dark brown eyes held an unexpected distant twinkle. Her body was hidden under her dark habit, and her face was framed by her dark wimple, white bandeau and coif, and dark rimmed glasses. Her oval face with its understated nose and cheekbones, reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t put my finger on who. Her slight smile with perfect teeth communicated both serenity and amusement. A huge, silver crucifix inlaid with red stones hung from her neck: it looked sharp around the edges, particularly at the points but I imagined that wearing it over at least two layers of clothing would make it no hazard. Standing before me, her posture was perfectly straight yet relaxed. An elegant, noble woman, yet humble.

Looking me squarely in the eyes, she winked at me before continuing.

“You’re very kind,” she said. ” In my community, all the dumpy old women with warts and wrinkles want to enjoy their retirement and leave running the convent to those of us who are younger and more energetic.”

“How wise of them.” A nurse passed us in the hallway and ducked into Lucinda’s room. “How long have you known Mrs. Parkhurst-Frazelton?”

“A long time: she’s related to one of our sisters.. She has been a very generous patron of our soup kitchen for many years, and entrusted us to take charge of her care in her old age.”

“Oh? I thought she had four children. Surely one of them would be responsible for taking care of her.”

“Unfortunately, their affection is mixed with greed; none of them will readily trust of one of their siblings with control of her money. So it was agreed that the Prioress of our Convent would take that responsibility, with her condition reported to the children regularly.”

“Doesn’t that take up a lot of your time?”

“Someone drops by regularly, checks in with Willikins about how she’s eating Üçyol travesti and getting around, knits with her for a while, that sort of thing. We take turns.”

“I thought Mary Sterns was looking after her from day to day.”

“I’ve known Mrs. Sterns for a long time as well; we keep in touch. Mrs. Sterns does drop by almost every day and she is Mrs. Parkhurst-Frazelton’s solicitor as well as her friend, but I have her power of attorney, as you Americans call it.”

“Oh, that would explain a few things.” I kept finding myself drawn back to the nun’s eyes: they were captivating and compelling. A wisp or two of blond hair peeked out from underneath her bandeau; I tried not to stare as they caught my eye. The nurse came back out of Lucinda’s room, and turned to talk with Mother Mary Rufus.

“Mrs. Parkhurst-Frazelton has improved since last night,” the nurse said. “The pneumonia has cleared from her lungs, and her heart rate and breathing are almost normal. The Doctor may want to keep her here on antibiotics the rest of the day to be sure, but you can probably take her home first thing tomorrow morning.”


“Well, another few days and she should be as active as she was before this illness. Don’t let her push herself, and you’ll be all right.”

“Thank you, Sister.”

The nurse took the clipboard back to the nurses’ station and turned to me. “Vicar, would you like a cup of coffee?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Why don’t we have a cup together in the hospital cafeteria?”

As we rode down in the elevator, I found rather sacrilegious thoughts of Mother Mary Rufus running through my head. Her face, seen from the side and in harsh flourescent light, was excellently proportioned and her skin smooth and clear. The side of her mouth was turned up slightly: I focused to the side to make my scrutiny of her less obvious, but her flicking eyes told me that she was stealing glances downward at me as well. Far down, below the hem of her tunic, her sandaled feet peeked out, her perfectly pedicured toes soft and vulnerable and appealing. Just before the doors opened, she licked her lips once. I followed her as if drawn by a magnet.

The cafeteria could have passed for an upscale Paris bistro. Mother Mary Rufus insisted that I have a seat while she got two huge cups of steaming brew. The weather was promising to be a warm August day with rain likely. At this time of day with no serious caffination prior to the visit, the black elixir was most welcome. We sipped and her delicate index finger played with rim of the cup away from her, near me. Her eyes captured mine once again, and she said: “I understand that you just returned from a vacation to your home in America. How was it?”

“Good, very good. Going home is always a difficult thing, but I feel better having made the trip. A lot of things got resolved, a lot of baggage was left behind. It’s good to get back to the St. Dunstan’s: you wouldn’t believe the state things were in when I returned last Wednesday. I hardly caught up on my jet lag and my calendar was full for three days; I barely had time to write my sermon for Sunday. Last night, I just found out Lucinda was here, so I promised myself that I’d come around before anything else happened today, and thanks to a still scrambled internal clock, I was up extremely early today.”

She took another demure sip, her finger giving the rim another soft stroke. “That’s so very kind of you. I’m sure Mrs. Parkhurst-Frazelton will appreciate it when she comes around.” Her eyes were locked on mine, and I could swear that some rather secular speculations were happening right behind them. “Full day today as well?” She asked at last.

I looked away for a moment before returning. “No, Monday is usually my day off, and I worked like a maniac to take care of everything before I went to bed last night. I just have to be sure nobody sees me sneaking into the Vicarage to change clothes before I make good my escape.”


“Well, I usually make up my day off agenda as I go along.”

Another sip of coffee and she proceeded quickly. “I hope you don’t find me forward, but we’re undertaking a major renovation of our Chapel at St. George, and I was wondering if you could drop by this morning and give me some advice. The diocese has had its say, and Mrs. Sterns tells me that you did an excellent job supervising St. Dunstan’s renovation last year. You have a good sense of architecture and history, from what I hear.”

“My fame precedes me,” I replied. Her eyes were inviting, enticing behind her glasses which had slipped down her nose just enough that she looked over them at me. “Yes, something artistic and abstract would be a good way to unwind compared to the stuff I’ve had to deal with since I came back,” I continued.

“We have some very lovely grounds far away from the urban rush, with a nice small lake. If you wish, we could even give you a Guest room for an afternoon nap, and feed you as well. The organ is in good shape, although we hope to expand it in the new renovation.”

I Alanya Travesti gulped my coffee and sputtered. “It seems Lucinda has been telling you a lot about me.”

Her eyes darted innocently back and forth a couple of times before returning to mine. “Mrs. Parkhurst-Frazelton speaks very highly of you and your many gifts, as does Mrs. Sterns. It is Divine Providence that our paths crossed today.” Another sip and another delicate toying with the cup.

Gravity was pulling me, and I said: “Done. I’ll be happy to drop by this morning and stay until the afternoon at least. Which bus stop do I get off at?”

A soft chuckle welled from inside the depths beneath the tunic and scapular. “Yes, you’re an American. We would never end sentences with a preposition. It’s the last stop on the number 53; the bus turns around in our circle before heading back into town. So you’ll be there by lunchtime?”

“Sooner, I hope.” I got up and shook her hand in parting: her hand was delicate yet strong as it grasped mine. “I’m just going to get a few things, grab my backpack and hop the bus.”

“Excellent. I’ll be in my office when you get there.” I started fishing around in my trousers for change, but she stopped me. “Vicar, today is on me. I’m sure you’ll be happy to get it next time.”

I nodded and turned toward the door. The bus had just left the stop, so I impulsively waved for a cab to take me back to St. Dunstan’s. Leaving on my working clothes, I thrust some casual clothes and a few other things into my pack, as well as a notepad and digital camera. St. George’s Convent was renowned for its beautiful grounds, but few ever saw them other than the sisters. As I came back down the Vicarage front steps, there wasn’t a familiar face in sight and the 53 bus was just pulling up to the curb.

As I rode out to the Convent, my imagination turned back to Mother Mary Rufus’ face: angelic, child like, demure, peaceful. Her eyes haunted me, and I wondered if she had been a courtesan or royal mistress in a past life. The coffee break felt like a seduction. I chided myself for wondering what she would look like without her habit, what her gentle hands would feel like on my body, or even how she would look with her glasses off. The bus picked up speed as it approached the edge of town, and soon the spire of the Convent Chapel was reflecting the morning sun.

I disembarked before an impressive stone castle-like structure. A sister in a white veil greeted me at the front steps. “Good morning, Father Alfred, I’m Sister Mary Justin. Welcome to St. George’s. Let me show you to the Mother Superior’s office; she had to take care of something at the Dormitory but she’ll be right back. Please, follow me.”

We ascended the great exterior stone staircase with wrought iron railings into the massive structure built from huge blocks of native stone. The entryway was stately, ancient wood, and the paneling inside warmed up a dreary green tile floor and pale yellow ceiling. Passing through the corridors, I saw sisters working in the Library, a class of postulants learning about community history, a study group of lay people led by one of the sisters, among other things. After a series of offices, Sister Mary Justin led me to a huge, beautifully appointed office that had a fireplace, a somber antique table with eight chairs, a massive desk and a large collection of books. As I waited, I browsed the titles: most were dull tomes on the history of religious life and spirituality, but a shelf of 18th and 19th Century fiction had some curious choices besides Dickens and Twain:The Fortunes and Misfortunes of the Famous Moll Flanders, Justine,theKama Sutra,Tantric Worship and three 20th century titles,Catcher in the Rye,The Thorn Birds, and Memoirs of a Geisha.

I was leafing through the rare, illustrated edition ofTantric Worship when Mother Mary Rufus burst through the door, obviously fuming. She paced back and forth for a couple of moments; I hoped she didn’t notice me slipping my book back into the bookcase. Flinging herself in her huge, overstuffed chair, she muttered under her breath until she realized that I was in the room waiting for her. She was embarrassed: getting up quickly, she moved toward a coffeepot and said: “I’m sorry, Vicar, didn’t realize that you were here already. Coffee?”

“Sure,” I said. “Tough morning?”

She poured two huge mugs of fragrant brew and handed me one. The caption on my mug was:You don’t have to be crazy to work here, but it helps. Hers was a picture of a cross eyed cat.

“Sometimes I think that my handymen are here just to drive me nuts. We gave them a simple task this morning, unblock the basement loo and replace the hot water heater with the one sitting in its box right next to it, and now we’ve got to call in a contractor to get the work done right and a clean up crew to straighten up after. I swear, if there’s a just God, Percy Witson and Stan Dover are doing to spend at least another century in Purgatory making all their fuck-ups right before they get to see God face to face.”

“Percy Konyaaltı travesti Witson and Stan Dover?”

A look of disbelief met mine. “Yeah, they’ve been working for us for about five years already. You know them?”

“Ah, yes, they do some work for me around St Dunstan’s.” My head started to spin: how does she know Percy and Stan, I asked myself.

‘I’m sorry,” she said, taking a bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey from her desk drawer and pouring a generous slug into her cup. “Interested?” she asked, pointing the bottle at me.

“No thanks, it’s a little early for me.”

Putting the bottle away, she took a deep drink of her mug and blew out a breath. “If those clowns are doing anything significant at your place, you’d better double check their work and make sure things aren’t going to fall apart tomorrow. They’re nice guys and willing, but it’s been a penance coping with them”

I took a gulp from my cup: it tasted wonderful. “Well, they’re parishioners of mine, and we have a Sexton who supervises them, or at least is supposed to keep an eye on them. The stories I could tell. . .” An image of Percy and his wife floated through my mind from our last ‘counseling session’, and I lost my train of thought. After an awkward moment, I changed the subject. “You wanted me to look over some plans you had for renovations.”

Mother Mary Rufus looked confused for a moment, then turned to take out some blueprints from a cupboard behind her. I pulled up a chair and looked at the upside down as she unfolded them on top of the chaos of paperwork on her desk. “These are the plans for the new arboretum behind the Chapel–oh, Vicar, please come around here and look at them directly. I promise, I won’t bite.” Her mouth curled up slightly at the corner and she gave me a wink as she said it.

Sliding around the desk, I stood directly in front of her chair, bending over to scrutinize the plans. She settled in next to me: her right hand pointing out details, her left hand resting on my back and a subtle fragrance infiltrating my nostrils. It was familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Do nuns wear perfume, I asked myself. I didn’t remember any of the nuns I’d met before, Anglican, Orthodox or Catholic, wearing perfume, even in America, but there was a first time for everything. As we looked and talked, she had to break contact from time to time, and when her hand re-established contact with me, it rested slightly and almost imperceptibly lower each time.

She moved in front of me and bent over to show some detail in the plans. I leaned over from behind to look over her shoulder, and I could swear she intentionally pushed her posterior into my groin. My John Thomas stirred to life as I felt a crease in the fabric before me, the outline of her cheeks, and very subtly they shifted as if welcoming me. The tone of her voice and the content of her talk didn’t change: she kept telling me about the plans as her body spoke to mine in another language. After she finished her point, she suddenly stepped aside to show me documentation for the organ renovation.

Standing behind me again as I bent over the organ specifications, her hand was just above my hip, her thumb resting on my belt line, when the signal for the noon meal sounded. “Please, Vicar, come with me,” she said, leading me down a long hallway to the Refectory.

The Refectory was a huge room with massive wooden beams and long, polished tables. It was somber, ancient, dignified, sparse. All faced the center of the room, and when the dishes were set out, one of the nuns went to a podium to do mealtime reading. I expected the tables to be rather empty at this time of day, however, over fifty nuns showed up, most were senior citizens, but there was a group of fifteen novices and postulants at table as well, fresh faced in their innocence, girls in their late teens/early twenties. Mother Mary Rufus put me at her right at the head table as all stood. Grace was said, and she graciously pulled out the chair for me to be seated before taking her place.

As I started into my marinated artichoke salad, I expected to hear from one of the great spiritual classics, such asThe Dark Night of the Soul, orThe Seven Storey Mountain, but to my surprise the reader began reading a chapter fromSophie’s Choice by William Saroyan. The sisters all ate calmly, at a measured pace. Mother Mary Rufus raised each morsel to her mouth delicately and serenely as the account of Sophie’s residence in a Warsaw apartment with members of the Underground was recounted. Huge fans rotated slowly above to circulate the air as we turned to our entrees, salmon steak in a dill butter sauce and wild rice. The reader’s voice trembled a little as the story recounted Stingo and Sophie’s excursion to Jones Beach and their nude swim. Looking around the room, there were moist eyes in some of the older faces. Some of the younger women the novices and postulants were blushing slightly, their hands trembling a little as they continued eating while the narrative spoke about Sophie using Stingo’s premature ejaculate as a skin moisturizer. Sophie tried to swim out far enough to drown and Stingo rescued her. Fresh fruit followed the main course, and I ate a fig as the reading and the meal concluded. All rose for a prayer of thanks, and the sisters left, chatting busily.

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The Voice Student Ch. 01

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Have you ever woken up in the morning and thought to yourself, “What the fuck did I DO last night!?” In this case, it was more along the lines of “WHO the fuck did I do last night!?!” I had that thought last Saturday, wiped the sleep from my eyes and looked around the room. Hung over, I told myself to quit yelling inside my own head. Maybe it was just one too many shots of tequila and an overactive imagination. Nope — I was still in Room 1215 of the Washington, DC Downtown Marriott.

I looked under the covers and discovered I had nothing on. I distinctly remembered putting pajamas on last night. Upon further examination, I discovered that there was bright red lipstick smeared on my cock. Apparently, I had a great time the night before. Then the fog inside my head began to lift and the events of the previous night began to work their way back into my brain. As the memories flooded my swollen head, all I could think was “FUCK. I am SOOOOOO fucked!” It was going to be a looooooong day.

I suppose I ought to back up a bit and tell you how I came to this totally hung over state in a hotel room a stone’s throw from the White House. It was all Emily’s fault. Although I am quite certain most people would blame me.

My name is John. I am 32 years old, married, with two kids. I am 5’10”, weigh 165 pounds, with curly, blonde hair and green eyes. I am a professional tenor and voice teacher in Richmond, Virginia. By day, I teach housewives and the occasional home school student who wants to learn how to sing. After normal school hours, I work with middle and high school students who want to study (or THINK they might want to) voice as a college major. I have an excellent reputation for preparing high school students to participate in scholarship auditions and competitions.

Emily is my star student. She is a senior at one of the local high schools. She waltzed into my studio as a 15 year-old sophomore and sang beautifully. Em was a raw talent, who loved music more than breathing. A little slip of a girl, Em stood 5’0″ and weighed right at 100 pounds. She had pretty brown eyes and thick, pouty lips.

Her mother Brenda explained to me that while she would love for me to teach Emily, her pending divorce had left her in a tough financial situation, and $200 a month was just more than they could really afford. In fact, after staying home since the age of 20 to raise Em, Brenda was looking for a job for the first time in her life. Brenda seemed like a nice lady in a tough spot. It was late February, and all she really wanted was for her daughter to be ready for an audition in March and state solo and ensemble contest in April. I agreed to teach Em for free if Brenda would help me out at the studio. I needed a part-time administrative assistant in the worst way, but didn’t have enough work to justify hiring someone for more than about five hours a week. Brenda jumped at the chance.

Brenda was 5’3″, with curly, blonde, shoulder length hair. She had a nice body for a 35 year-old mother of three, and pretty brown eyes. She would have passed for seriously hot except for the sadness that her divorce had brought into her life. She turned out to be incredibly helpful, and my business grew as a result of her freeing me up from administrative duties to concentrate on doing what I enjoyed most – namely singing and teaching. By the end of Emily’s junior year, I was not only teaching her for free, but was paying her mother a decent, living wage.

Musically, things could not have been going better. Emily placed a respectable third at the state solo contest her sophomore year, and easily got into the top show choir and chamber ensemble at her school. She starred in the high school’s production of “Annie Get Your Gun” her junior year and was named the outstanding singer at the state contest that year. We were primed for a great run at several music scholarships her senior year.

Last September, Brenda showed me the flyer for a contest she really wanted Emily to win. It was at Georgetown University, which was where Emily had decided she wanted to study. Georgetown runs about $30,000 a year, and Emily’s dad had not been real faithful to the divorce decree. The contest had two purposes. First, it was an audition for the performing arts school at Georgetown. Second, the contest was endowed to pay for a full, four years of tuition and fees at the prestigious, Washington, DC campus. For a girl like Em, it was truly the opportunity of a lifetime.

We entered Emily in the contest and began preparing furiously. The contest was to be held the week before Christmas, and we had to have a full repertoire ready. I bumped up the difficulty level of Emily’s music, and pushed her even harder in her lessons, accepting nothing less than perfection in her rhythmic accuracy, diction, tone quality and intonation. One night in late November, she almost broke down, saying “I can’t DO this! The notes are too high for too long!” I Bornova travesti assured her she could, and we went back to work on “The Queen of the Night” from Mozart’s The Magic Flute. While that aria was beyond almost all high school (and undergrad) students, I knew that if she could just FINISH “Queen of the Night” cleanly in the final, she WOULD win the competition. I told her that the competition was going to be incredible with some 18 year-old going home with a $125,000 scholarship. She took a deep breath, wiped her eyes, smiled and said, “Well, all right then.” We went back to work.

The studio Christmas party was at our house the Saturday night before the big contest at Georgetown. My wife Christy was (as usual) the perfect hostess. Christy is about 5’6″, weighs 115, has long, flowing, thick black hair, amazing legs, and a PERFECT set of 36C breasts. She teaches theatre, and has a thousand watt smile.

The party was a nice buffet with an open bar for the adults and all the soda and tea those underage could handle. We sang Christmas carols, had a gag gift exchange, and just hung out. Dressed in a beautiful spaghetti strap, red cocktail dress and matching heels, Christy took fabulous care of our guests and flirted shamelessly with a couple of the hot dads and husbands. I even noticed her taking Emily’s father on a guided tour of our home. She led him upstairs and we didn’t see them for a few minutes. Em sang her contest repertoire to end the evening, and finished with “the Queen of the Night.” It was good. Not where we wanted it to be, but very good.

I looked around to see her parents’ reaction. Brenda was beaming, but Mike was not in the room. I looked over at the staircase and saw Mike and Christy stepping down on to the landing. Christy’s face was flush, and Mike (who hadn’t even been in the room for his oldest daughter’s performance, was beaming from ear to ear. I new that particular grin. I usually had it plastered to my own face for a couple of days after my usually prudish bride deigned to give me a blow job. She did NOT do it nearly often enough for my liking, but when she did, she had oral skills that would make a seasoned professional whore blush. Seeing that grin on Mike’s face made my blood boil. I stood there and seethed, all the while showing our guests out. Mike had the audacity to say, “Thanks for the invitation John. It was worth coming just to meet your lovely wife.” With that, he kissed Christy on the cheek and was out the door.

When the last guest had left and we were finally alone, I let my wife of 12 years have it with both barrels. I confronted her about Mike’s lengthy tour and she denied it. I pressed some more and she admitted to giving him a blow job. “I’m sorry honey. I had just had a little too much to drink, and he had this way of wording things that just made it sound like a good idea.”

“Where did you do him?” I asked.

“Our walk in closet.”

“Let’s go there right now.”

“Okay. But don’t be too mad at me. It’s never happened before, and I promise it won’t happen again,” Christy whimpered.

I took Christy to the closet and said, “You would dare suck another man’s cock ten feet from our bed when you hardly ever suck mine?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not sorry enough”

I pulled her to the bed, sat down and through her over my knee. As I mentioned before, Christy was a prude (or so I thought) and our love life had been VERY vanilla. I was so mad I lifted up her skirt and began to spank her hard with my hand.

“You’re hurting me,” she cried.

“Good. You deserve it,” I replied. “And now, you are going to get on your knees and beg my cock for forgiveness.

“The hell I am.”

“Yes, you will or I will tell all our friends about you being a whore in our own home. Did you swallow him? I didn’t notice anything on the carpet in the closet.”


“Liar. You never deign to swallow mine — WHEN you are gracious enough to even give me a blow job.”

“All right. I swallowed, he didn’t really give me a choice. He held my head in place when he came. It was awful”

“I don’t think even YOU believe that.”

“Okay, I swallowed. I had never done it before with anyone, and I wanted to try it.”

“And…?” I asked.

“It was, well, salty.”

“Don’t worry. You’re going to have something to compare it to VERY soon.”

I pulled her up and threw her back into the closet. “On your knees,” I said.

“But I said I was sorry,” she protested.

“I won’t believe you until we’re done. Now get on your knees and start really apologizing.”

“Okay.” She fell to her knees and unzipped my pants. My cock was already fully aroused, making it hard for her to pull my eight thick inches out of my pants. It finally popped free and she leaned in to kiss it.

“Uh-huh. The balls are going to need an apology too,” I spat. Knowing resistance was futile, Christy went beck inside my pants and pulled Buca travesti my tight ball sack out. She then kissed each ball and the tip of my cock lightly, whispering “I’m so sorry. I’ll never go down on someone else’s cock and balls again.”

“Show me how you did him,” I moaned. She smiled and slid her tongue out and around the tip of my cock, slowly and sucked as she pulled her tongue back into her mouth. Heaven. She bent down further, pressed tight on my urethra with her thumb at the base of my cock and lifted not one, but both of my swollen balls to her lips. She started kissing them slowly and gently, then alternately sucked each one into her warm mouth. As she let one go to suck on the other, a small pop escaped her lips with each ball.

I moaned in ecstasy when she took both into her mouth at the same time and started sucking in earnest. While she did this, she started giving me a cruel, merciless, fingernail tease of the soft underside of my cock, working from the base to the tip. When she thought I might cum, she clamped down on the urethra at the base till I calmed down, then started the merciless ball suck and hand job again, all the while humming with my balls in her mouth.

I groaned in torment when she pulled the balls out of her mouth, let go of my cock, and started grazing my shaved balls with her perfectly manicured fingernails. She looked up at me, smiled an evil smile and said, “I think he wants to forgive me. If I suck him like I know he loves it, and promise to do it more often and swallow, do you think he will forgive me?” “He may,” I replied coolly. “But he may require a different type of apology from your pretty little ass later.” “Ooh. I’ve always wanted to try that,” she cooed. “Then we won’t do it tonight, for sure. You’re being punished. Open your mouth. Normally when you blow me, you do it in a way that gets you off. Not tonight. I’m going to fuck your face, not let you torture my cock with your teasing mouth and nails.”

Christy gulped a little and thought for a minute. “If it will REALLY make this over between us, I’ll do it. But please don’t hurt me.”

“No promises. I’m about to be VERY greedy. Open wide.” She did as she was ordered and I immediately grabbed the back of her head and impaled her mouth on my fully erect, thick member. Ignoring her gag reflex, I made sure she learned how to deep throat a man that night. I pounded into her mouth again and again. Angrier than I have ever been in my life, I pulled out, dragged her out of the closet, threw her face down on the bed, flipped the dress up, and ripped the panties down.

“Oh please, don’t,” she cried. “I won’t do it again. Just don’t put your cock in my ass right now. I’ve never done it before.”

“Tough shit!” I drew back and SLAMMED into her virgin asshole with no compassion whatsoever.

“Oh, my GOD that hurts!!!!”

“I do NOT care!” I said in rhythm with each thrust deeper into her bowels.

I kept pile driving my formerly prudish wife until I exploded deep inside her previously virgin asshole. I grunted as I let loose every bit of juice I had in my full balls. She moaned, whimpered, and fell silent.

“I won’t do it again, I promise.”

“I know you won’t. You’re forgiven. Just don’t do it again, and don’t ever SPEAK to Mike other than in public again,” I instructed her.

“I won’t.”

“Okay, go get cleaned up, take a bath and come to bed.”

Christy wobbled off to the bath, whether from a bit too much red wine or the pounding of her previously virgin asshole. I went to the bathroom down the hall and showered, and returned to bed before Christy did. I lay down and waited for her.

Christy came to bed a few minutes later and started to go to her dresser for a night gown. “You won’t be needing anything that’s in there tonight,” I chided. “Come to bed right now, just as you are.” She said, “But I thought you were done punishing me.” “I am. I don’t have punishment in mind.”

I reached up and pulled her gently on to the bed beside me. I lay her on her stomach, reached in to the night stand, grabbed the warming oil and began giving her a much needed and deserved sensual massage. For the next half hour I pampered her entire body with my hands and the warm oil, alternately relaxing and arousing her with a graze of a finger her or a blow of hot breath there.

When I knew she was ready, I got behind her between her legs and lifted her hips up. I grabbed a couple of pillows and placed them under her before letting her hips back down. I then snaked my way back down her legs and placed my face right behind her delicious smelling cunt. I placed one well lubed finger inside her and reached up and towards the front of her body till I found that lovely little spot that just makes her tremble. With my other hand I reached back to the night stand and got out a thin, slightly angled vibrator. I turned it on low and inserted it along with my finger. Konak travesti When IT hit the spot, I knew I could move my finger.

I left her simmering on low in her pussy and pulled a VERY well lubricated finger out of her pussy and placed it against her asshole. I gently slipped it in, not wanting to hurt this time. I worked it gently in and out of her, stopping every so often to lick her freshly cleaned asshole with my tongue, and then force it inside her for a moment.

At the head of the bed, her head was whipping back and forth as she began to spew profanities at me. “That is fucking amazing! More, come on, make me your little bitch whore. Please don’t stop. Unhhhhhhhh!!!!!” She came loud and long.

When I was satisfied that SHE was satisfied, I pulled out the vibrator, gently slipped it in to her anus, and pulled myself up her body. I teased her pussy with the head of my now fully erect cock and asked “What do you want for Christmas, little girl?”

“I want that cock.”

“Where do you want it?” I asked as I pulled just the bulbous head in and out of her.

“Buried deep inside my….”

“Inside what?”

“You know…”

“I know, but I want you to say it. What’s the magic word?”


“That helps, but it’s not what I’m looking for.”


“No. Only good girls have those”


“Closer, but only faithful wives have those”

“Cunt. I want that big, fat, long cock in my cunt.”

“That’s what an unfaithful whore of a wife has. A cunt. Have you been a good little whore of a wife?”

“No, I’ve been a bad girl.”

“That’s okay, from now on, you’re just going to be MY little whore, right?” I flared the head of my cock and she moaned, “Yes. I’m your whore from now on!!!”

“No more Pristine Christine?”

“No, I’ll be your little fuck slut. I’ll give you whatever you want in bed.”

I sealed the bargain by burying my shaft deep inside her soaked cunt. I gently rode her from behind until she came again, then stepped up the pace. When I finally got my second load of cum inside her, she tried to get up to get cleaned out.

“No,” I said. “You said you would do whatever I want in bed. You’re my little slut wife now. You’ve never let me do one, particular thing I’ve always wanted to do.” Now that we’ve both cum, there’s a mixture of your cum on my cock and in your cunt. I’m going to pull out and lay down on my back. When I do, get in to 69 position and clean my cock with your mouth while I suck everything out of your cunt.”

“Okay. I promised.” I pulled out, lay down, grabbed her and flipped her around. Like a baby suckles breast milk, I started eating the cum out of my wife’s cunt. She didn’t know what to do and first, but then she moaned and put her head down to my still erect cock and started licking it like it was a sticky, hot popsicle. I sucked and sucked at her lower lips and then put my tongue inside her to make sure I got all of our sweet, mixed juices. Just as I thought I was done, I felt fresh, sweet cum start to tickle my tongue as she moaned on my throbbing cock. She trashed wildly with her hands and slapped my aching balls hard with her flailing. She trashed again, slapped my balls again, and this time grabbed like they were a pillow she was trying to use to keep from screaming. She gave u, let go and screamed as she came hard on my tongue, bucking her pubic bone on my chin in the process. She grabbed my cock like a saddle horn, began pumping the shaft with one hand and twisting the knob with the other. I couldn’t help it. My third orgasm of the night probably woke the neighbors, but I couldn’t help it.

I sighed, opened my mouth and spread her cunt wide with my fingers. Drop by drop, the last of her sweet nectar fell in my mouth. I swallowed every drop. Christy did the same for me, sucking every last bit of cum off my shaft, her hands, and then sucked the tip of my cock to get any cum that might still be below.

Spent, she collapsed, then lazily twisted around and lay in my arms. She kissed me deeply and said, “Wow. I never knew what we were missing.” “Me either,” I replied honestly.

“John, are you sure it’s okay that I’m taking the kids to Chicago early? We can wait for you to get back from DC.”

“No, it’s fine honey. You guys go ahead on Thursday. Your mom’s going to be lonely this year. It’s her first Christmas without your dad. I’ll fly over straight from DC on Sunday morning.”

“You’re not mad at me anymore?”

“No, honey. I could never stay mad at you for long. But I was serious about one thing — don’t ever talk to Mike again.”

“I won’t.”

“Good. Now get some sleep. The kids will be home from their sleepovers at nine. If you want to wake me up when you wake up, I would be MORE than appreciative.”

“I bet you would. Good night, my love.”

With that, Christy drifted off to sleep. She woke up at 7:30 AM, grinned, went to the bathroom, brushed her teeth and came back to bed. I awoke to the gentle kisses and sucking of my beautiful, brand new, slut of a wife. Pristine Christine was dead. Christy the Cum Slut was born. Long live the slut!

(Look for Chapter Two Next Week — the competition at Georgetown!)

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The Twins

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I met the twins at a New Year’s Eve party about three months ago and my life has been a nonstop adventure since. The moment I arrived at the party the first thing that caught my eye was a stunning petite Latina girl about 5′ tall with a body built to delight the eyes. The first view I was blessed with was from behind and I quickly noticed her beautiful long silky black hair flowing all the way to her slim waist stopping just above her mouthwatering apple bottom. She was wearing a sexy little red dress that clung to her amazing curves and left no doubt the only thing under it was a tiny pair of panties. I pictured myself holding her hips firmly and fucking her from behind before pulling her firm round ass tightly against my thighs as I empty my nuts deep inside her slippery little sperm catcher.

As I pictured her bent over with her sweet ass in my hands and my hard cock deep inside her I felt my dick and my smile growing when she suddenly turned and looked at me like she could hear what I was thinking. She maintained a serious expression as she turned to look at me and eyed me from my pearly white smile all the way to my shoes before working her way back up. When she got to the obvious bulge in my dress slacks she paused and a smile started to form on her beautiful full sexy lips and by the time she made it back up to look me in the eyes and melt my soul with her deep green eyes we both had huge smiles as she came over and introduced herself as Sophia.

We felt so comfortable together talking that in no time at all we were down to the final countdown to New Year’s Eve. I was looking into Sophia’s beautiful eyes as the final seconds counted down thinking of how much I wanted to kiss her gorgeous sexy lips as the clock struck midnight. With five seconds to go she came over and sat on my lap and wrapped her arms around me as she gave me a kiss that would change my life and rock my world. She is the most amazing kisser and by the time she was done half the people from the party were gone the rest were watching us and I had the stiffest erection of my life as she gently squirmed in my lap while kissing me. She pulled back from the kiss and gave me a sexy look as she bit her lip and smiled at me and I just knew she was thinking “your move”.

I looked around and the few remaining people were almost all just sitting and watching us as if it was the most amazing thing they had ever seen. I looked back at Sophia and giving her my best smile I said “would you like to give them a real show or go back to my place where we can have a little privacy?” Her eyes lit up and with a smile she rubbed her sweet little ass against my rock hard cock and said.

“Let’s go back to your place”

Sophia leaned in and whispered so close to my ear I could feel her warm breath on my neck as she said.

“When we get up to leave everybody in the room is going to know what I’m getting tonight when they see what I’m sitting on.”

The look on everybody’s faces when we got up, Sophia with erect nipples showing through her dress and me with a huge erection tenting the front of my pants casually saying our good byes was some funny shit. The ladies at the party were all smiles as one by one they all gave me hugs and several whispered “call me” as they pressed their firm bodies against my sizeable erection. We were laughing so hard as we got into my car that we couldn’t stop and just as I started driving Sophia said.

“WAIT WAIT I almost forgot my little sister, I have to run back in and get her, wait just a minute”

She hopped out of the car and came back a few minutes later with her sister in tow and as they climbed into the car Sophia introduced her sister Jennifer and asked if she could come with us and party at my house. I was not liking the idea of having Sophia’s little sister cock blocking me for the rest of the night while I was trying to get into her sisters panties but I would have said yes to anything Sophia asked me after the devastating cock hardening kiss she laid on me back at the party. I figured I would find something on TV for Sophia’s little sister to watch and then we could sneak off somewhere and have some private fun. On the way home I found out that Jennifer was the talkative one and she filled me in on a few details and asked a million questions.

By the time we arrived at my house I had been informed that they were identical twins 23 years old and the reason that Jennifer had a slight Texas accent was because they both just graduated from different collages. Sophia went to college in California and Jennifer went to college in Texas other than that Jennifer said they were identical in every way including the way they shave their pussies smooth and hairless. Jennifer said they grew up in a Catholic family and did not believe in artificial birth control of any kind and both wanted several children and it went without saying that abortion was definitely not an option. Jennifer even told me they Esat travesti were not virgins and that they had each only had sex one time and when the guys found out about the no birth control rule it scared them off. Their reputation got around quickly in college and the only dates they got were from religious students that wanted to remain virgins until they married.

Sophia spoke for the first time when Jennifer finally paused for a moment to think and in the sweetest voice said.

“We just want to find a couple of nice guys to settle down with and start a family.”

Jennifer laughed and said.

“We would even be happy to find just one good man to share but most guys get scared when they find out were ready now, not after two years of dating and waiting.”

Sophia leaned over pressing her firm breasts against my shoulder and placing her petite hand on my crotch and as she felt my erection she kissed my neck and giggled softly before she whispered in my ear.

“You don’t feel scared Michael, you feel huge!”

In a soft pouty voice I heard Jennifer say.

“I wanna feel it.”

It got quiet for a few minutes before we arrived at my house. I gave the girls a quick tour of the house and poured us all a glass of wine. The girls asked if they could use the bathroom to freshen up a bit before we settled in on the couch to continue our discussion. I showed them to the guest bath and I headed to my bedroom to kick off my shoes and get comfortable. I could hear them through the heating vents giggling in the bathroom before Sophia said.

“Jennifer, he’s so cute and I really like him not to mention it feels like he’s packing a really nice size package. Please don’t scare him off, he seems really nice, let’s take it slow and give him a chance to get to know us before you start chanting knock her up, knock her up and give him cold feet.”

I had just turned 30 and had thought about having kids sometime in the near future but I figured with dating marriage and careers it would still be a few years off. I’ve had an impregnation fantasy that started one night when my first girlfriend was sitting in my lap ridding my cock and I felt the condom break just as she was starting her orgasm. I told her “I think it broke, you better stop”. She hugged me tight as her whole body tightened up and started convulsing in my arms as her pussy began to pulse and squeeze my erection while she pushed herself down hard on my cock and moaned out.

“Sooo good, cuming, oh fuck nooo, what?”

Her eyes opened wide as she realized what I had said and what she was feeling deep inside her quivering pussy as my cock swelled and started jerking and spewing hot thick potent sperm deep inside her tight wet sheath. Just as I was launching the fourth blast of thick baby batter I heard her yell.

“Oh shit, no, not in me”

As she looked in my eyes with a shocked expression she lifted off my cock and looked down to see my erection covered in thick white frosting before it erupted for the fifth time launching a blast that hit her upper lip and laid down a thick line of sperm on her chin, down between her breasts and all the way to her belly button. We were both worried for two weeks before her period showed up three days late and every since I have had a thing for sex with a risk of impregnation.

I had to make sure Sophia and Jennifer didn’t find out about my impregnation fantasy or I would be at their mercy. Sophia was so beautiful and sexy all I could think about was getting her naked and holding her wide hips from behind as I buried my cock in her tight little Latina pussy. I also knew I had to find a way to keep from cumming inside her near her fertile time or I would be a father sooner than planned.

I was sitting on the couch waiting for the girls to finish up in the bathroom and as my thought of impregnation risk and the two beautiful twins that seemed primed and ready for my ultimate fantasy I developed a throbbing erection just before the girls emerged from the bathroom looking and smelling beautiful and sexy.

When they came out of the bathroom I got to see them both together in the light for the first time and they were amazing. The only thing that I could tell that was different was their clothes and their voices. It seemed like they knew what I was thinking and just paused and posed together letting me take in the reality of almost every man’s fantasy, hot fertile twins. They just stood looking at me with the sexiest coy smiles until Sophia as sexy as can be came over to me and sat down next to me on the couch and gave me a sweet soft kiss that made my cock jump and hit the back of her arm. She moved her hand and quickly found my hard shaft as she wrapped her small hand around the head and whispered in my ear.

“Why don’t you turn on the TV for my little sister and take me to your bedroom so I can give you a nice massage?”

I quickly fired up the TV and showed Kızılay travesti Jennifer how it works as she smirked and giggled while staring at the erection tenting my pants. I led Sophia to my bedroom and as soon as we got to the foot of the bed I pulled her to me and gave her a passionate kiss as she began unbuttoning and sliding my shirt off my shoulders letting it fall to the carpet below. As I was kissing her soft full lips I reached around and unzipped her dress and let it slide down her exquisite figure to rest atop her flared hips.

I slid my hands around and cupped Sophia’s firm full breasts as I pinched her beautiful suckable hard nipples while she moaned into the kiss as she skillfully and quickly had my pants open and falling to the carpet before I even felt her soft touch. I slid my hands down from her nipples to her full baby making hips feeling the silky smooth skin as I slipped my thumbs into the top of her snug dress and working it over her hips I pushed it down her thighs until gravity took over and the dress fell to the floor adding to the growing pile.

When Sophia pulled my underwear down and my throbbing erection sprang up slapping right against the crotch of her tiny thong, it caused her to let out a deep groan as she paused her kiss breathing heavy she pulled back and glanced down at the thick portion of my shaft that was visible between us before looking back up into my eyes with a dreamy look as she said in a sexy sweet voice.

“It’s time for your massage.”

As I lay face down on the bed Sophia started rubbing my shoulders and working her way downward. When she got to my lower back and legs she reached under and pulled my cock back between my legs to allow her to massage the sensitive area along the lower side of my shaft as well as my full balls. Sophia gave an excellent massage and in no time at all I was completely relaxed and didn’t even notice she had pushed my legs apart to get her lips and tongue on the bottom of my shaft until I felt her warm wet tongue running up from the base of my erection all the way to the tip.

Each time she would get to the head she would suck the tip inside her mouth and swirl her tongue around the head before gently tongue fucking the blow hole on the tip of my cock and then releasing the head and working on the bottom of the shaft. I was so relaxed and Sophia was making my cock feel so good I could feel slippery precum leaking from the tip and I was quickly approaching orgasm.

I was relived thinking that if she made me cum in her mouth that I would have more control to keep from losing it and accidentally cumming inside her young possibly fertile pussy and knocking her up. I had just met her and had no intention of getting her or anyone else pregnant, not tonight and hopefully not soon. I was just about to bust a nut and could feel my erection getting harder and thicker when Sophia suddenly stopped and in the cutest voice said.

“Time to do the front, turn over.”

I rolled over and she started with my feet working her way slowly up my legs. When Sophia got to my upper thigh I felt her hot little pussy rubbing against my foot and as she worked her way up my body I felt her silky panty covered pussy sliding slowly up my leg getting closer and closer to my throbbing erection. I was watching her sexy eyes and sly smile as she began massaging my chest she settled her sweet little camel toe right down on the thick throbbing base of my erection.

When I felt Sophia’s hot little pussy lips caressing the bottom of my shaft I looked down to see her silky panty covered pussy slowly sliding up from the base of my erection to the tip before a big clear drop of slippery precum appeared. I watched her panty covered opening slide over the tip and absorb the precum into the crotch of Sophia’s silk thong as she pushed back against the thick head aligning it with the tiny entrance to her hidden paradise.

She ground her tight opening against the sensitive tip pushing the moist crotch of her tight little panties and the tip of my cock into her little pussy before tilting her hips dislodging the head and sliding her camel toe back down the shaft until she bottomed out against my sperm filled balls. I could feel the heat and wetness soaking through her panties and mixing with my slippery precum as she continued to stroke my erection with her tight wet pussy.

After only a dozen strokes Sophia’s panties and my erection were a slippery mess and I could see thick white sperm oozing from the tip as she worked me closer and closer to orgasm before leaning down to whisper in my ear.

“Do you want me to slip my panties to the side and massage every inch of your big beautiful cock with my tight wet pussy?”

I almost came just hearing her words but managed to hold off and say “NO, I’m not ready to risk getting you pregnant. We should stop before this goes too far.” With a little moan and a giggle Sophia said.

“You Alsancak travesti can just cum all over my panties if you are worried but it would feel so much better if you empty your nuts deep inside my tight little pink flower.”

Just hearing her say the words sent me over the edge and I grabbed her hips pulling her forward just as my erection jerked for the first time and belched out a long thick stream of potent sperm laying down a stripe up across Sophia’s nice round ass and all the way up her back before landing in her silky black hair. I was suddenly startled by Jennifer’s loud Texas accent as she said.

“OH WOW it’s a geyser?”

I couldn’t see her but I felt her wrap her soft little hand around my thick shaft and guide the head into the wet depression in the center of Sophia’s panties as Sophia pushed back hard driving the tip of my erection and her panties about two inches deep in the opening to her pussy. As I felt the opening to Sophia’s pussy engulf the head of my cock and her panties my cock jerked again as I pumped out blast after blast of thick rick sperm.

With each jerk of my shaft and eruption of thick cum I heard Sophia moan and Jennifer say.

“OH wow.”

As she stroked my shaft and rubbed my balls I finished emptying my nuts. As I recovered from one of the most intense orgasms of my life catching my breath I heard Jennifer say.

“Sophia? How come it jerked eight or nine times but only sprayed the first time?”

Sophia stood up with a laugh still straddling my waist as she said.

“Well Jennifer I think we just busted the myth about being safe from pregnancy if you keep your panties on.”

With that she pulled her thong to the side and thick white sperm started pouring out and running down her inner thigh as Jennifer and I watched wide eyed.

I was surprised and upset but the girls quickly distracted me from my thoughts by pulling me into the shower and putting on quite a show of first soaping up every inch of my body before rubbing their shapely slippery bodies against me until my cock was rock hard and throbbing. I thought I was going to bust a nut when they put on a show of kissing each other before asking me to decide which one is the better kisser.

Sophia lifted up on her tippy toes and pushed my cock down so she could straddle it to get closer to give me her hottest kiss before stepping aside and having me repeat the process with Jennifer. I liked Sophia’s kiss better but just to mess with the girls heads I said I wasn’t sure and needed another comparison.

The girls both tried even harder and Jennifer was great but Sophia actually made my cock throb. I kept telling them it was too close to tell so they would keep trying to one up each other with longer more passionate kisses and sexy little moans as they rubbed their wet puffy lips against the top of my erection.

The hot water started running out so I told the girls it was a tie and we quickly finished showering. I was still thinking about the possibility of Sophia getting pregnant from the huge load I blasted through her panties and into her pussy as we dried off after our shower. I was looking at her flat little tummy and thinking about it swelling with my baby as I asked her when her last period started.

With a sweet voice and a sexy smile she said.

“A little over a week ago and I should ovulate in about 7 days so your sperm won’t live inside me long enough to knock me up. No need to worry sweetie”

Sophia and Jennifer started teasing me about cumming inside Sophia and still being chicken to stick my dick in her and fuck her like a real man as they laughed and giggled. I was thinking if she was correct about her days then it wouldn’t be any more dangerous to fuck her properly and cum in her again after already giving her one of my biggest loads and if she was wrong about her days than the damage was already done and a second load wouldn’t make a difference.

I twirled the towel and snapped Sophia’s fine round ass causing her to scream and giggle as she ran towards my bedroom and dove on the bed to get away from being snapped with the towel again. As she tried to crawl across the bed I dropped the towel and dove onto the bed trapping her lower legs between my knees as I grabbed her long black hair stopping her progress.

As she giggled and continued to struggle I wrapped my free hand around her neck and lightly squeezed as I leaned forward putting my lips to her ear I said “in just a moment you’re going to get to feel the way a real man takes a fertile woman.” I scooted forward until my erection was rubbing her beautiful round ass cheeks before I looked over to the doorway where Jennifer was standing and watching with a big smile as I said “get over here and give me a hand” She got a sexy slightly evil look as she came over and asked me what to do. I told her to suck my dick and get it good and wet to make it easier for her sister. Jennifer shook her head and said.

“Nope, I will gladly suck your gooey dick after you finish fucking my sister but she asked you to fuck her like a real man and she doesn’t deserve the nice guy insertion, fuck that little bitch just like she asked and teach her a lesson.”

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The Trip Pt. 02

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The restaurant in the hotel truly was a gem. They enjoyed a marvelous meal together with an opportunity to catch up on the events and mundane experiences of the prior week. His travel schedule had kept him on the road for the last ten days. They were a very communicative couple and not being able to talk constantly was a big sacrifice.

She had paid special attention to her outfit. Her dress hugged her figure and accentuated her curves. Underneath she wore lingerie that she purchased specially for this occasion. Her heels made her slender legs appear even longer.

He decided to wear his elegant suit, a European design that was form fitting on his tall frame. She loved it when he wore suits and dressed up. Actually, it created a visceral response in her to tear his suit off and make love to him right on the spot.

After dinner they enjoyed another drink at the hotel bar. They laughed, they kissed, they talked … nervously contemplating what was waiting for them in their hotel room.

“It is nearly 9pm. Time to go, babe.”

They strolled towards the elevator bank and went upstairs to their room. They walked down the empty hall and paused in front of the door to their room.

“Are you still up for this?” she asked.

“Oh, yes. I am excited about it.”

She grabbed his cock through his pants. He was hard and pulsating with his heart beat. Indeed, he was ready!

They entered the room and she started to give instructions.

“Babe, sit over there in this chair. When our guest is here, I want you to be watching us until I signal you to join in. You can stroke yourself but don’t come.”

He nodded, sat down and Osmanbey travesti loosened his tie.

There was a knock on the door. She opened the door and let in their guest. The man that she had been with at the pool in the afternoon looked so different in a shirt and slacks.

There was no need to pretend that they knew each other or that there was any interest in getting to know each other. He was here to fuck her and nothing else. She approached him and started to unbutton his shirt. She kissed him and then stated the rules.

“I want you to ignore my husband for now. He will watch us and may join us later. You are here to perform and pleasure me. Take your pants off now.”

He opened his belt and let his pants drop to the ground. His boxers were already tented from his erection. He stepped behind her, opened her dress and slid it off her body. She looked stunning in her thigh high stockings, garter belt and push-up bra.

His hands explored her body deliberately, pausing long enough in certain areas to produce a response. She gasped as he let his fingers graze over her ass.

“Lick me know!”

He watched eagerly as his wife and her young lover climbed onto the bed. He had always fantasized about watching her with other men. Whenever she had told him about her prior sexual experiences, he had wanted to know all the details and gotten so aroused by her narrative that he climaxed almost immediately. Now, it had become a reality, but he could tell that despite his jealousy and depredations, he was into it. His cock was rock hard in his pants!

She lay back and spread her legs, eagerly awaiting the young Ayrancı travesti man’s tongue. He started exploring her pussy, his tongue working itself into her folds, penetrating her and seeking her most sensitive spot. If she was an expert at giving handjobs, then he had incredible skills at using his tongue.

She looked over to her husband who had taken out his cock and was slowly stroking himself.

“Oh babe, he is so good. He will make me come. Ahhhh … yes .,. right there…”

He started stroking faster. Locking eyes with his wife created an immense lust in him. And jealousy. And rage. He was so turned on by watching her being eaten out.

“Yes, don’t come, babe … aahhhh … don’t you dare come … ohhhh … yes … that’s it … I am coming … “

She arched her back, squeezed her thighs around her lover’s head and climax violently. After briefly catching her breath, she turned around and got on all fours.

“Now, fuck me. Show my husband how to do it!”

The young man ripped off his shirt, undid his belt buckle and when his plants fell to the ground, his cock popped up into view. He was large, long and thick.

She is going to have a lot of fun with that, the husband thought. And the thought caused his own cock to stiffen further. He groaned when he nearly shot his load in his pants.

She felt the tip of the man’s cock slowly enter her, split her open and then move in and out of her pussy. Every inch of him created delicious friction and she loved how much he was filling her. Much more than the man who was watching her from across the room.

Her young lover started to pick up the Cebeci travesti pace, now deeply grinding into her with every thrust. His swollen cock head massaged her insides and she could barely breath when he was fully inside her.

She felt her arousal build again. Every thrust pushed her higher and higher. He grabbed her hips and slammed into her as hard as he could. She could feel him swelling and twitching.

“Oh, babe, he is fucking me so well. Thank you … oh … ohhh … ohhhhhh … I am coming!” She looked directly at her husband as she came and as her pussy received a big load at the same time.

After a few moments, the young man’s penis softened and fell out of her pussy. She felt empty and wanting more.

“I hope he has more stamina than that”, she thought.

She signaled her husband to come over and lie next to her on the bed. He had taken off his suit and she felt his hardon poking at her while they kissed. In between kisses, she looked at the young man kneeling at their feet desperately stroking himself to get hard again.

“Let me help you with that!”

She flipped around and engulfed the semi hard cock with her mouth. Within minutes, he was ready to go again and impaled her with her legs placed on his shoulders.

And there she was in heaven, making out with her husband while being fucked by this young stud at the same time. She could not remember how many times she came that night or how many different ways she had been taken.

But she woke up next to her husband the next morning. The bed was a mess and the entire room smilled like sex. Her young lover was gone. She felt her pussy, sore and swollen.

She reached over and grabbed her husband’s cock. He was asleep but hardened almost immediately when she held him. Had she not let him come at all last night? She could not remember, but now she needed a bit more before they would have to go back to their normal lives.

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The Tour Bus

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A man on vacation decides to take a Sightseeing bus of the area. He goes to the depot and buys a ticket after standing in line for over twenty minutes. He heads for the designated bus and sees more people in a line to get on the bus. As he gets on, he sees all the front seats are taken, as are all the window seats the entire way back. He was hoping for a window seat, but at this point any seat is looking good.

He walks about two thirds of the length of the bus and sees an open aisle seat on his left next to a portly gentleman and one his right. He didn’t want a trip fighting for an armrest, so without looking hard, he plops into the seat on his right.

As he sits down, a woman looks up from her book and smiles warmly and says, “Good Morning.” He answers pleasantly “Good Morning. Are you familiar with this area?” She said no, she was merely a tourist looking to learn more about the area and try to kill a large part of the day without a problem. He chuckled, he had thought the same thing, and told her so. They both smiled and relaxed in their chairs a bit more.

They looked up front and the tour guide was just getting on the bus and the driver was preparing to pull out of the lot.

As the tour moved out, the man and the woman would look out the window, past the woman, as the guide would announce what was on the left, and they would both lean and strain to try to see out the window on the right, past the portly man.

Their laughter came easily, as they would look from side to side, often making exaggerated movements as though staining to see. The man would sometimes pretend to strain to see past the woman, although he was honestly losing interest in the distant scenery and starting to enjoy what was right before him. She was Çankaya travesti in a white sun dress, the skirt reaching almost to her knees as she sat. The top portion was buttoned, except for the top two, which allowed only a hint of cleavage to appear.

As the bus would travel along the road, they continued to chit chat, enjoying each other’s company as much as the tour. As they were looking out to the right, trying to see the portion of the window the portly man was not covering, the bus hit a bump, and she instinctively grabbed hold of his arm. She apologized and let go. But she had held on just a moment longer than necessary. And could he feel her breasts being separated by his arm, or was he just dreaming. Several more times the bumps would occur and she would hold his arm. Soon, she was holding his arm for every sight on the right.

As luck would have it, as they were looking out her window, the bus hit a pothole and, as he was leaning over to see, his hand went to her leg for support. Before he could remove it, she placed her hand over his, and whispered “It’s ok, I don’t mind.”

He looked into her eyes and they could feel the need growing in each of them. He leaned over and their lips met.

A short time later, the tour guide said the guided portion of the tour was over, and as dusk was approaching, the cabin lights were going to be turned down for those wishing to sleep on the way back to the station. Reading lights were available on the overhead console and blankets were in the overhead bins. She whispered to him, “Please get a blanket, I’m chilly in this night air.” He got up to get the blanket, knowing that her leg was warm to the touch. She noticed the tent in his pants. As he sat down and started to Dikmen travesti open the blanket, she said, “That looks big enough to cover both of us, if you don’t mind.” “I guess that would be alright” he replied.

They wrapped themselves in the blanket cocoon and his hand found its way quickly to her leg again. It was still warm. She moved her leg toward him without moving her other leg. His hand was able to slip easily between her legs and halfway up her thighs. She made a purring sound, and slid forward, parting her legs completely for him. He could now feel her soaked panties. He began to rub her mound, savoring the feeling. She leaned her head over and they kissed. Hard. He pressed into her, and her breathing began to stutter. His hand became moist.

He pulled his hand back, and began to lick each finger. The favor was sweet. She moved away from him and began moving under the blanket. He knew she was removing her panties.

She took his hand and put it back to her crotch and pressed his hand with hers. She forced two of his fingers into her sopping pussy and then moved over to his groin. She pulled his zipper down with ease, even though there was a lot of pressure from his rock hard member. He began to move his fingers rhythmically in and out of her. She was beginning to move her pelvis in time with his movements. She worked through his underpants and within seconds, his soldier was standing straight and tall. She began to stroke him. Gently caressing with her fingers. She was moving her hand up and down, playing with his tip, and stroking again.

His hand was now pressing in deeper. He pulled out, added a third finger and stroked her again. After several strokes, he pulled out and added his pinky. All four fingers, Eryaman travesti filling her slit, went in and out with increasing ease and speed. His thumb was rubbing her clit. She was in heaven. He moved his hand in again and began to wiggle his fingers. She bit her lip to prevent screaming. Out and in again his hand went. Again and again, then he held it in, deep, pushing hard against her as she was pushing against his hand. His thumb rubbing her clit. She stopped stroking him and pushed against his hand, taking it past his knuckles. She tensed, squeezing his hand with her thighs and had a monstrous orgasm.

Her thighs let go of his arm and she moved her hips toward the back of the seat. As she did, he removed his hand. She said “Let me get that for you” and pulled the blanket away from her and leaned down and began to suck each finger clean. As she finished his hand, she pulled the blanket up over her head and began to suck him. It didn’t take long for her work to have the desired effect. She could feel him tighten his muscles and she took him in deeply. He felt the sperm making its trip and was immediately shooting on the back of her throat. She felt he penis growing as the he began to shoot and stayed on him, sucking and sucking. He had never felt anything as wonderful, or as sensual.

As she felt him subside and shrink, she tucked him carefully into his pants. She had him zipped up and she was straightened up in the seat and blanket adjusted just as the bus was pulling into the terminal.

As the bus stopped they stood and he began to fold the blanket. She looked at him and said, “Well, I think it was a wonderful tour. We made it to my favorite places.” He looked at her and replied, “Best tour I was ever on.”

He moved to the aisle, and took a step backward to allow her to get out and exit ahead of him. As she climbed over her seat and then his, he felt her hand slip into his pocket. Her hand came out but he could feel something in there. She whispered to him, “Don’t forget your souvenir.”

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The Text Message

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Big Dick

The drive to a friend’s birthday party didn’t seem like the occasion on which Mark and Lauren’s relationship would completely fall apart. But sometimes it’s hard to see these things coming.

Mark and Lauren met on a blind date. Lauren—playing defense, just in case Mark was a disaster—set up a gauntlet of four locales (bar, bowling alley, friend’s party, Chinese restaurant), each giving her the opportunity to ditch in case things went badly.

They didn’t. That was five months ago, and between Lauren sharing Mark’s love for sports, and Mark beside himself at the idea of a girl looking the way Lauren does dating him, now Lauren was even toying with asking Mark to move in with her. But that was before tonight.

“Heather was in your sorority?” asked Mark, driving while fiddling with the radio.

“No,” said Lauren. “I worked with her until she moved with a bunch of attorneys over to Hayward. It looked like this awesome opportunity to make partner until Hayward totally blew up and now she hates it.”

“Heather was hilarious,” she continued. “There was this guy in our office—Steve—he was a boob-watcher. And this one time, Heather—”

“That’s like a real term?” interrupted Mark. “A term of art? ‘Boob-watcher?'”

Lauren laughed. “It was with the women I worked with. There are just these guys that can’t stop looking. Anyway, Steve was a boob-watcher. He’s actually this guy I dated for a little while. And Heather one time—this was so funny—right in the middle of the office, she caught him looking at her boobs and she tilted her head so it was at chest-level, right in his line of sight and she was like, ‘Hi, Steve!’ He was totally embarrassed.”

The anecdote wasn’t what caught Mark’s attention.

“You dated this guy?”

“Yeah,” she said.

“You dated the boob-watcher.”


“For how long?”

“Not that long.”

It’d been a long while since Mark had felt it, this weird…sensation. The last time, he recalled later, was when his high school girlfriend told him she was thinking of maybe asking his best friend to prom. And he was feeling it again, right now, in the back of his throat.

“…Why would you do that?!” he asked.

“What do you mean ‘why would I do that?'” said Lauren. “He was nice.”

“Nice? He ogled women in your office, but that was okay because he was nice?”

“It was just funny…it wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“When you went out on dates, was he checking out your rack?”

“Um…yeah,” she laughed, “but like I said—”

“Every woman in the world says that’s totally repugnant behavior,” said Mark. “I mean, if every girl in the office notices him doing this then he’s got a serious problem.”

“Why are you so upset about this?” she asked.

“Do you not see why this is weird? It’s like if a flasher exposed himself to you, and instead of calling the cops you asked him up for drinks. His behavior’s unacceptable and I don’t see how that translates into ‘boyfriend.’ And then…”

Mark paused.

“And then…you know, you dated him for how long…I mean, he probably…”

“Probably what?”

He knew he shouldn’t say it. But then he did.

“Did he, like…you know…get to feel your tits?”

“What kind of a question is that?!” asked Lauren.

“It’s a totally valid question! I mean, this stalker-ish guy is obsessed with your breasts, right? Did you let him touch them?”


“You’re telling me you dated this guy and he never got to, like…hold them?” asked Mark. “Never played with them? Caressed them?”

“Never rubbed his face in th—”

“Yes. Yes! Of course he did,” screamed Lauren. “When you go out with a guy a few times, that’s what happens, right?”

Now Mark felt nauseated. She was right—but it was still hideous hearing the words from her mouth.

“Holy fuck. That’s just great. And that doesn’t seem weird to you,” yelled Mark, “that his prize for staring at your tits for months on end is you popping open your bra for him? That doesn’t seem like exactly the wrong thing to do given the situation?”

Lauren sat silently, looking out the window.

“What did your girlfriends think about you dating a sexual harasser?”

Lauren took a breath. “I don’t think they thought anything about it. I mean, we all thought his boob-watching was funny. But all the women still liked him.”

“Fuck. I will never understand women. He must have been fucking amazing-looking.”

“Yeah,” she said after a moment. “Yeah, he was attractive…”

“See?! That’s why I will never understand women. They’re such f-ing hypocrites! They say that the behavior you describe is absolutely unacceptable in the office, yet when some hot guy does it, not only is it not unacceptable, it’s ‘cute,’ and apparently, a huge fucking turn-on. I mean, he obviously spent months jacking off to the thought of getting your top off, and then you…that doesn’t creep you out?”

“I don’t think that’s what he was doing—”

“Jesus, do you know anything about guys?” interrupted Mark. “He’s probably beating off right now to Şişli travesti the thought that he actually, really did get to play with your tits. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror? It’s all I can do to keep from jacking off whenever -I- see you!”

Mark exhaled. “Anyway, that’s just awesome. He stares at your tits all day and as punishment he gets to rub his face in them. What’s the penalty for slapping you on the ass and calling you ‘sweetheart’? A blow job?”

Lauren stayed silent. For a long while.

“Holy fuck,” said Mark. “Holy fuck…you did give him a blow job…”

Lauren was getting madder.

Mark shook his head. “You gave him a blow job…”


“If this pervert in your office qualified for a blow job, does that mean that everyone in your office got one?!”

“No!” she screamed.

“Well that’s a relief,” said Mark, followed by silence.

“Well at least tell me he enjoyed it!” yelled Mark. “Did he have a fucking great time, watching the girl he’d been beating off to sucking his cock?”

Lauren stared out the window for a few seconds before realizing she was fed up.

“It seemed like it,” she said.

Her answer was like a punch in the gut. “That’s just fucking great,” he muttered a few seconds later.

Lauren turned to Mark. “You remember,” she said, more pointed than angry, “I was dating Steve the same time I was dating you—”

“This is -that- guy?! We were the two guys you were deciding between? It took you weeks to make that decision! And the other guy was this fucking creep? Me and the boob-watcher, and it took you that long to figure it out?”

Lauren stared out the window while Mark peppered her with questions—”Were you blowing him at work? Fucking him? Did you see him high-fiving the guys in the office at every opportunity?”—and she felt like crying, until she couldn’t take it any longer.

“Why do you keep asking questions that you don’t want the answer to?!” she screamed.

“I ‘don’t want the answer?’ Why wouldn’t I want the answers unless the answers are worse than I could possibly imagine?”

“I just know you’re going to be upset—”

“I’m upset already!” he yelled. “And partially because you’re obviously hiding shit from me. So go ahead: hit me with it! I’m ready!” Lauren looked out the window for a whole minute before deciding she honestly didn’t care anymore.

“Okay,” she said in the most measured tone possible. “If that’s what you want I’ll answer every one of your questions.”

She took a deep breath. “To answer your first one: yes, I sucked his dick many, many times at work. And I think he very, very much liked it.”

Mark’s throat was dry.

“At work…?” he asked, and his voice cracked.

“Yes. Well it’s just a lot easier than…”

“Easier than what?”

“…easier than trying to have normal intercourse at work,” she said.

Mark sat there, stunned. He had a hard time believing how matter-of-fact she was.

“Ah…,” he said, trying to recover. “…very pragmatic and thoughtful of you.” Mark couldn’t believe he was asking these questions, but he couldn’t stop. “How many times did you suck him off at work?”

“A lot, like I said. Whenever he texted me.”

“Whenever he texted you?”

“He’d text me when he was alone in his office,” she said, then looked him in the eye. “Are you enjoying the answers to your questions?”

He tried to regain his composure. “Yes,” he said, “…they’re very revealing.” But the answers were killing him. Mark still wanted to get under her skin. It was all he had left.

“Was it common knowledge around the office that you were blowing him?”

“No. I mean, I have no idea; I don’t think anybody knew.”

“Getting back to the ‘boob-watching’ for a moment…he did really like your tits, correct?”

“He was obsessed with breasts; that’s putting it mildly. He very much liked ‘playing'”—and she made little air quotes with her hands—”with them, as you call it. I’d tease him about how I always noticed him staring at them in the office, and he’d always get the same sheepish grin, and say that I had the most amazing breasts he’d ever seen, how all the guys in the office talked about them, and how did he ever get so lucky to be the guy that got to…whatever.”

She continued. “Whenever he held them I’d hear him say how all the guys in the office would have given anything to be him.”

Holy fuck, did Mark want to kill this guy Steve right now.

“How did that make you feel?”

She thought for a second. “It made me feel super turned-on.”

“Fucking awesome,” Mark replied.

This relationship was pretty close to dissolving entirely; he could tell. This was probably the last actual conversation he’d ever have with her. The only thing he had left to do was make Lauren feel like a complete whore in the process.

“So he could text you whenever he felt like a B.J., and you were, like, his call girl?”

“Um…sure. Fine, call it whatever you want.” She was unshakable.

“While you were going down on him, did Taksim travesti he ask you if you loved sucking his cock?”


“And what did you say?”

“I would tell him that yes I did. That’s what a guy wants to hear, right?”

“So you didn’t actually love sucking his dick?”

She paused. “No, I did.”

Mark gulped.

“It could be incredibly fun,” she said, though it occurred to Mark that he would have been fine if she’d left that last observation out. The last trace of anger was gone from her voice.

“Yeah,” she said. “Some guys…they…”

She drifted off while seemingly deciding whether to finish the thought…then came back to life, beginning a new thread in the conversation she’d never have started if she thought she had anything to lose.

“People always talk about being good at giving blow jobs,” she said. “But they never talk about being good at receiving them.” Mark let that statement sink in for a good five seconds before staring at her like she was senseless.

“What?” he asked. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re saying it’s possible to be good at -getting- a blow job?”

She thought it over. “Yeah,” she said.

“There’s no fucking way. There is no fucking way to be good at getting a blow job. How?”

“You really want me to spell it out for you?” she asked softly.

Mark was now terrified, but nodded anyway.

She was silent for a moment. “I…never mind. Seriously, you don’t want to hear—”

“Tell me!” he screamed. “I want to know every god damn thing that is going through your head right now.”

“Okay…” Lauren said, and she stammered a bit, searching for the right words. “The guy, um…he…reacts in sort of the right way? Not overly-excited, but not just lying there, either. Not so much of a reaction that it seems like he’s never had one before, but just enough to make it feel like you’re doing something absolutely incredible to him.”

Beside the thought that he might vomit, Mark was incredulous. “That’s not how every guy reacts?”

“No!” she said laughing, then composed herself. “No. You’d be surprised.”

“And it makes a difference as to how the guy reacts?”

Lauren nodded furiously, with a tiny smirk.

Mark seethed and shook his head. “Never realized you were such a fucking blow job expert,” he said.

Lauren stared at him with near-complete contempt. “It’s totally unfair of you to insist I answer your questions then treat me like I’m some sort of deviant when I do.”

Mark just shook his head and stared out the window.

“I can tell you more!” she said with an angry glee. “There’s an amazing dynamic going on,” she said, “where there’s this ambiguity about who’s in control. I mean, sure, the woman is basically servicing the guy for his own pleasure, but you know, the woman has the man in kind of a precarious position! Both of those scenarios are kind of a turn-on. And…some guys know how to work that. Really well.”

And now it was, in fact, taking all of Mark’s concentration to not throw up.

After thirty seconds of nothing, Mark got the courage to speak again.

“Well, first…” and Mark took a deep breath, “in case you’re still wondering, when you’re on your knees with a guy’s dick in your mouth, he’s the one in control. Just sayin’. Thought I’d clear that up for you.”

“Second, if I’m reading you properly,” he said, his anger increasing, “what you’re saying is that Steve was absolutely fantastic at receiving a blow job. Fucking world-class at getting his dick sucked. That’s what you’re saying, right?”

Lauren gave a little shrug.

Holy fuck.

“I’d say you’re overstating things just a bit,” she said, after letting him stew. “But I’m just answering your questions.”

“I know you’re trying to make me feel guilty,” she continued. “I don’t. I liked sleeping with him. I liked that he was obsessed with my body. And you knew I was seeing him at the same time I was seeing you…that wasn’t a secret. Since I’m sure you’re not enjoying hearing any of this from me, I don’t know what you’re trying to prove here.”

“And for all I know,” she said, “you were fooling around with other girls during that first part of our relationship when we were allowed to see other people.”

“But I wasn’t!”

“That’s not my fault.”

Mark no longer had any idea what he was trying to prove either. He was just looking for that one little angle that would prove he was right to be freaked out and that she was wrong to think that there was anything normal about her dating this guy.

“Do you think it’s easy for me to listen to this shit?!” he asked.

“No. But you don’t have to listen to it! Just stop asking these stupid questions and stop insisting that I answer them!”

But he wasn’t going to stop.

“He has a really nice cock?”


“Nicer than mine?”


“Well why do you go out with me then?”

“You’re funnier. I have a better time with you. At least I used to.”

“Have you ever imagined I’m him when we’re together?”



She Gümüşsuyu travesti took a breath. “Sometimes when I’m going down on you.”

And that was the last question he asked. And those were the last words shared between them until arriving at Heather’s house six minutes later.

Lauren rang the doorbell and the two stood on the front porch stoically until some drunken guest opened the door. Lauren bolted for the kitchen, leaving Mark alone in the entryway. All the way at the back of the house, Mark saw Heather, the birthday girl. The girl whose tits had started this whole fiasco.

“Steve!” she shouted to a tall guy standing not far away.

Mark’s heart sank. That was him, the boob-watcher. Steve.

He was taller than Mark expected—maybe 6′ 2″ or 6′ 3″? Not as good-looking as Mark had pictured, though. Mark couldn’t decide whether that made him feel better or worse.

He kept his eye on Steve as the birthday girl gave him a big hug. Holy fuck, Heather was the one who’d called him out on the boob-watching thing, and now he’s at her birthday party?

For the moment at least, the boob-watcher wasn’t staring at her breasts; maybe he’d gotten over that particular affliction. Or just gotten stealthier. Mark stared at the guy’s hands. It was hard not to picture those hands deftly working the fastener on Lauren’s bra, then gliding around the curves of her astonishing breasts, and—since Mark was in the frame of mind to work himself into a jealous rage—a look of complete ecstasy on Lauren’s face. Then, after a night of her happily sucking his enormous cock like there was no tomorrow and getting her brains fucked out, Mark pictured the boob-watcher sitting with his buddies at work and describing every second of the experience while they sat slack-jawed, in awe that he could on a whim command the hottest associate in the office to gleefully slide his dick into her lovely mouth—

Ugh. Jesus Christ. Could Mark make himself feel any worse?

He was going to try.

Despite the fact that every other girl at the party apparently loved talking to the boob-watcher, Lauren still seemed to be avoiding him. Was that because she really didn’t want to see him? Or—getting paranoid again—maybe she avoided the boob-watcher because she really -did- want to see him? Maybe tonight—maybe because of the fight she and Mark were having—she now wanted to suck his cock more than ever? Oh god.

Of course, Lauren wasn’t speaking to Mark either. Or was it that he wasn’t speaking to her? He wasn’t sure which of them was taking the stand against talking with the other. Instead, he spent the time bouncing between introductions to partners in Lauren’s firm, and Sherrie, an admin he’d met at another office party.

He wanted to somehow bring the boob-watcher up in the conversation with Sherrie but the thought made him queasy. God, what if Sherrie liked him too? Then he’d feel even worse. What if she wanted to blow him? What if she already had? Holy fuck, had Steve’s cock been in the mouth of every girl at this party?

(Just how fucking paranoid could Mark make himself, he wondered?)

Sherrie didn’t bring up Steve. Maybe she knew he’d be a touchy subject with Mark, since, you know, Lauren had been… Fuck, did everyone in this room know that his girlfriend loved sucking this guy’s dick?

Mark looked back to the corner where Steve stood.


Lauren was talking to him. Fuck.

Tonight of all nights, did Lauren really have to wear such a low-cut top? Holy shit: is he why she wore the low-cut top?

Mark guessed the boob-watcher would dive right in to her cleavage at any moment. That’s what he wanted, right?

Lauren giggled. Then a hair flip. At the rate Steve was going he’d have her blouse off in no time.

Mark had to look away, and considering he’d just finished his third beer, he had no choice but to bolt to the upstairs bathroom. After what was, at Mark’s reckoning, the longest piss of his lifetime—a solid sixty seconds, possibly more—an object on the window sill caught his attention.

An iPhone.

“Steve Halpern,” it said, after he unlocked it.

Holy shit. This was his phone. The boob-watcher’s phone.

Against his better judgment Mark launched the text message app. He could see that there were messages from Lauren on his phone.

Not recent messages. But all of Steve and Lauren’s old conversations—from when they were a legitimate item—were still definitely there.

“my office?” said Steve in one of the early messages.

“cant. phone conference,” she’d replied.

“they don’t need you in there. Ditch and get over here.”

“youre bad”

“you like that I’m bad,” he replied. “repeat yesterday?”

“mmmm would love to. cant.”

“so disappointed! youre so very very good at…u know, that thing you do. the best.”

“(blushing) its my pleasure” she said.

“but i guess you have work to do,” he continued. “guess i’ll just sit here with this unbelievably huge hardon and sulk”

“dont say that…you’re torturing me” she replied.

“good i like torturing you. you could always relieve your frustration with Jacobs. he’s there, right? he probably needs one more than i do.”

“ha ha” she texted.

“what not a benefit you extend to senior partners?”

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The Taxman Cometh!

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My name’s Henry Podes, and I’m a 43-year old Inspector Grade III with Her Majesty’s Inspectorate of Taxes. Since a few weeks ago I’ve also been committing criminal fraud. Let me tell you about it.

Part of my job is to interview tax defaulters and attempt to get them to arrange to clear their debt. I quite often make unnotified calls on people at their homes; often, if you catch someone off-guard, they haven’t had time to make up lies and evasions. One such call was to a rather swanky looking four-storey apartment block in the south of the city. When my press of the door entry buzzer was answered, I asked, “Am I speaking to Ms June Alexander? My name’s Mr Podes, and I’m here about your tax bill.”

The female voice, which replied was deep, cultured and, I felt, dripping with sexuality. “Oh, you’re a bit early darling, but…I’m certainly ready for you. Come on up.” I cursed under my breath as I climbed the flight of stairs to her apartment. She was expecting me – it appeared someone at the office had mistakenly notified her of my visit.

I was slightly stunned when Ms Alexander opened the door. She looked to be in her mid-fifties, but very good for it. She was everything that my dear wife Isobel isn’t – both her voice and her looks reminded me of an actress who was on television a lot some years ago, Rula Lenska. She had big flame red hair, big blue eyes, a wide white smile and sensual ruby lips. She was slim with big bosoms and long, shapely legs. It wasn’t difficult to see these features, as she was wearing a silky bed jacket which barely reached her thighs. I could clearly see the dark circles of her nipples through the thin material. In her high-heeled shoes she towered over my five-feet-nine.

She placed a hand on my shoulder and pulled me into the apartment, enveloping me in a miasma of flowery perfume. Leaning her mouth very close to my ear, she husked, “You’re older than I expected but that’s fine, I like experience. I wondered who you’d be. Now darling, I’m June, what shall I call you?” Normally I prefer formality, but since she had taken that approach it seemed only polite to tell her she could call me Henry.

Tax inspectors aren’t usually greeted so warmly, but I thought little of it, assuming she was just a bit eccentric. With a hand in the small of my back she guided me into a stylish lounge with floor to ceiling windows, and I perched on the edge of a plush sofa. I assumed I must have got her out of bed, even though it was mid-morning, and, clearing my throat delicately, I asked if she wanted to go and change into something more comfortable. To my surprise she flopped onto the sofa right beside me, her bare knee brushing against my trousered one, and said, “But I am comfortable darling.” I watched in shock as she reached out and loosened my tie. “I think we should both get comfortable.”

I was suddenly anything but comfortable. I felt hot and awkward, and blood was pumping into my groin area. Trying to maintain my professional detachment, I stammered, “Well, er, June, I really think we should get down to business.”

She giggled girlishly, removed my spectacles, and replied, “My thoughts exactly.” And with that, she fell on me. The suddenness of it took me completely by surprise, and I gasped in shock. My God, but that woman could kiss! She slapped her lips onto my open mouth and her tongue thrust past my teeth. As she pressed her body to mine I began to respond (well, even tax inspectors only human!), and as I slipped my tongue into her mouth it felt as if it had been seized by Halkalı travesti an industrial suction pump.

She was a fast worker too. She was stretched out on top of me, one thigh rubbing firmly against my rapidly growing erection. Within moments she had my jacket halfway off, pinning my arms, and had removed my tie. With one hand she tore open my shirt and her long blood red nails raked my chest and tweaked my nipples. I had no idea where her sudden lust had come from – I’ve never considered myself what might be termed a ‘babe magnet’ – but it was as irresistible as a bulldozer, and I struggled out of my shirt and jacket, leaving me naked to the waist.

June chuckled into my mouth, grasped one of my hands and placed it firmly on one of her big boobies, inside her bed jacket. Obediently I began to squeeze her firm flesh. She finally broke the kiss, taking a deep, gasping breath, then cried, “Suck it darling, I love my nips sucked.” She placed her hand on the top of my head and pushed me firmly into position.

I have been married to the same woman for 18 years, and for a fleeting second a scintilla of guilt formed in my mind. But June was more or less forcing me to ravish her; she seemed quite desperate, and I decided I would rather simply enjoy the experience than risk annoying her — hell hath no fury and all that. Her cherry red nipple was huge, and I rolled it between my lips and flicked it with my tongue, the palm of my hand supporting the weight of her breast. She hissed and pressed one hand to the back of my head. The other hand found the belt buckle of my trousers and began to undo it.

She roughly yanked down my trouser and Y-fronts, then I shuddered as her fingernails scratched up the length of my erect cock. Detaching my mouth from her tittie, she squirmed down the sofa and pulled my trousers right down to my ankles. I jumped as those sharp fingernails scratched my scrotum, then I moaned involuntarily as her warm, willing mouth closed over my knob. Mrs Podes had certainly never done that for me! Her tongue was flicking the end of my prick, sending shivers right through my body, as her lips massaged up and down my length, her fingernails still scratching my balls, a surprisingly erotic sensation.

June gradually edged her body around, twisting her mouth on my prick, then grabbed my hand and thrust it between her legs. Her pubic area was completely shaven, and all four of my fingers slipped straight into her pussy. She moaned with delight and I worked my thumb in as well, until I was effectively rogering her with my entire hand. She squealed in delight and squirmed on my fist, then I felt her pussy clamp tight around me and her hips bucked up and down as she came. Within moments I felt my loins boiling, and I joined her in orgasm, releasing my sperm into her mouth. She smiled up at me, a small trail of white fluid trickling down her chin, and smacked her lips and swallowed, as if she was enjoying a fine wine.

I was feeling quite light-headed — stars were popping in my head. June murmured, “Oh God Henry, that was wonderful. Now it’s time for you to eat.” I thought for a moment that she meant she was going to cook me something, but with a chuckle she sat astride my chest and began to shuffle forwards, towards my face. In moments her warm thighs were either side of my cheeks, and her pussy had enveloped my mouth!

I had never even imagined doing such a thing with my wife, but as June bore down on me, wiggling her hole against my mouth, it was clear what she expected Levent travesti of me. I tentatively stuck out my tongue, and as it made contact with her slit she squeaked and bucked on me. I did a couple more times, and she giggled, and pressed down harder still on me. I wrapped my hands around her thighs, pulled her down onto me, and pushed my face as deep as it would go into her pussy.

I licked my tongue up and down the inside of June’s pussy, enjoying the arms soft sensation, and the sweet taste I was experiencing. I could hear her moaning and sighing, and I experimentally detached a hand from her thigh and inserted two fingers alongside my tongue. She positively squealed, and jumped a few inches into the air, coming back down on my face with a thump. As I licked and fingered her, my nose kept knocking against a small white button at the top of her pussy. I didn’t have much idea what that was all about, but each time I touched it she went wild, so I moved my other hand under her and started flicking my thumb across it. Her thighs clamped like a vice to my face and she ground her pussy down onto me, wailing as moisture flooded into her. I licked and stroked her as hard as I could, she kept squirming on me and the liquid kept coming.

Finally, she literally fell sideways onto a sheepskin rug on the floor, and gasped, “Enough! I can’t take anymore.” I was alarmed that she might have been hurt in her fall — that wouldn’t sit well with my employers — but she smiled coyly up at me, and husked, “Henry, come here.” Before I could respond she placed a hand around my naked calf, and yanked me down to join her. Then she lay on top of me and thrust her tongue into my mouth again, licking the taste of her own pussy from me.

For a lady of ‘a certain age’, June certainly didn’t lack energy. She slid down my body, and wrapped her magnificent boobs around my cock, giggling as she massaged it with them. She pressed her mouth to my chest, licking, kissing, even nibbling me. I had never felt so sexually charged in all my life and, unable to help myself, I wrapped my fingers in her hair, tugging gently at it.

I was sure June was going to breast-rub me all the way to another release when she crawled back up so that we were face-to-face. She rubbed her hairless pubis against my straining prick and murmured, “Do you want to put your big, stiff soldier inside my little pussy willow now?” She giggled and dropped onto all fours beside me, her freckled buttocks pointing at the ceiling, her pink pussy lips peeping out between them.

Adding yet another sexual first to my amazing morning, I positioned myself behind June, my hands resting on her buttocks, and placed the tip of my cock at the very edge of her vagina. She giggled again and pushed back at me, drawing me into her. It was the most amazing, er, fuck of my life. I thrust at June with all my strength, and she pushed back at me with every stroke, forcing me into her as deep as I could go, my balls swinging against her. She reached for one of my hands and drew it down to her pussy, placing a finger on that white button again. Obediently I began to flick it as I drove my tool in and out of her, and she started writhing against me, hissing, “Oh God Henry, that’s so good, oh yes my big strong taxman, fuck your little Junie through the sound barrier!”

Then she screamed — literally — and I felt her pussy tighten again. She collapsed onto her tummy, drawing me down with her, my cock still inside her as I continued to fuck her for some time before I came, Şirinevler travesti causing her to writhe and moan once again. I felt totally drained and slumped onto the rug beside her. She hugged me and kissed my nose, and whispered “Christ Henry, you really are good, well worth the money.”

I wasn’t sure what she’d meant by that last comment but, feeling slightly embarrassed by my most unprofessional behaviour, I quickly dressed while June went to her en suite bathroom. She emerged from her bedroom still quite naked, her face flushed, swaying her hips in a most arousing manner. She had a purse in her hand, and smiled as she said, “Now darling, what was it we agreed, one hundred pounds, wasn’t it?”

I checked my file and said, “No, it’s eight thousand pounds actually.”

Her jaw dropped and she stared at me. In a bewildered voice, she said, “Sorry? Henry, I know you’re good, but…”

I clarified my comment. “That’s the amount we estimate you owe in undeclared tax for the past two years. Eight thousand one hundred and twenty three pounds and fourteen pence actually. I have the full details here if you wish to see them.”

She slumped down on the sofa beside me and gave me a strange look. “Wait a minute. Do you mean…are you saying you really are a taxman?”

I was confused now. “Of course, who did you think…?”

“Oh my God! So you’re not ‘Loverman’ from the Hot Hunks website? Oh my God…” And with that she collapsed backwards on the sofa, crying with hysterical laughter, her legs kicking in the air, giving me another delightful view of the pussy which had so recently given me so much pleasure. I was totally perplexed at what was happening though.

Gradually June calmed down and, sitting up, wiping tears from her face, she placed a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry Henry, this has been a terrible case of mistaken identity. I’m expecting someone else this morning you see, and…” she started to snort with laughter again. Eventually, she said, “You know you really are very good at this, have you ever thought of doing it professionally?”

Then she seemed to calm down completely, as the information I’d given her about the payments she owed sunk in. It often seems to take people like that. Looking at me appealingly with those big blue eyes, she said quietly, “Eight thousand pounds you said? That’s an awful lot of money.” I shivered as her hand rested on the back of my neck, her fingers trailing through my hair. “Henry, isn’t there some way we can, well, sort of make this go away?”

Her fingers were sending electric pulses from my skull straight down to my cock. I thought quickly. After all, eight grand isn’t that much really, not in terms of the sums my office deals with in the course of the year. My heart thumping, I said, “Well, I suppose I could move a few figures around on the computer, rebalance a couple of accounts…”

June chuckled, “I’d be ever so very grateful Henry.” Her hand rested on my groin, a finger stroking the length of my cock. “For a very long time.” The hand unzipped my fly, and warm fingers slipped into my Y-fronts…

As I left June’s apartment block about fifteen minutes later, a rather offensive young man brushed past me, knocking my shoulder with his. He was about 30, with a tanned face I suppose some ladies would call handsome, and a rather muscular physique, like a bodybuilder. He was crammed into a business suit which he clearly wasn’t used to wearing, and which appeared at least one size too small for him. As he pressed June’s buzzer it occurred to me to wonder whether he intended to declare the earnings he was about to collect.

So that’s how I became a fraudster, and an adulterer. I’ve got to know June quite well in the weeks since then. And her friend Lucy. And Lucy’s daughter Karen. But that’s another story.

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The Swap Ch. 04

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The order of my stories to read is:

Todd Tanya Perlman had made sure to gift me with that information. Apparently our resident I.T. geek Myron had a surprisingly considerable package, as well. But we needed to get down to the brass tacks of police business, so I said “But I’m more interested in any data that you’ve found.”

“Nothing yet.” Myron said. “I’ve expanded the two names to the seven you gave me, and just can’t make any strong connection anywhere. We did find one thing, though… a car was rented in Katherine Wilson’s name on the afternoon of the murder.” Mary handed me the sheet of paper with that information. “Do you think it means anything?”

“I’ll ask the questions, here.” I said. I didn’t mind Myron asking some questions, but I didn’t want him to get too nosy and thus be biased in his information searches. “I don’t want you to get biased in your information searches.” I told him.

“Roger that.” Myron said. “The in-law ladies were at the Ladies Auxiliary dinner at the time of Mr. Warner’s murder, and that’s a pretty good distance from River Valley Country Club. Furthermore, no rental cars entered or left the Country Club, according to their records. So we don’t see any connection there.”

“I called the auto shop near that rental place.” Mary said. “Karla Warner took her car in for service that afternoon, so it’s likely she rented the car. When I asked the desk person if she had come in alone, he said ‘yes’, then got suspicious as to who I was. So she rented it in her sister’s name, but I don’t know why.”

“Me neither. I’ll ask them about it.” I said. “Good work. Keep at it.” I got up to go, but had a sudden insight and whirled around to them.

“Oh–” I said, “I’m sure you’ve checked the phone records?”

“First thing.” Myron said. “No calls between your persons of interest, no calls to the same places at all.”

“I’m not surprised.” I said. “But I want you to check on something, to the extent you’re able. Can you identify if a phone is a ‘burner’ phone?”

“Uh yes,” Myron said, “but we might have to cross a few lines to do it.”

Burner phones were the name of phones that were pre-paid or under phony names. Drug dealers and organized crime figures often used them to conduct their illegal businesses. I recalled how the hit on Anthony Warner was made to look ‘professional’.

And Myron’s reference to crossing a few lines meant that he’d might have to hack into some computers to get the codes. The Federal Government’s NSA was known to be able to tell which phones were which, but they were reluctant to share their information unless a Federal government agency was involved in the investigation… and that wasn’t the case here.

“Do it.” I told Myron. “My responsibility. Check for burner phones being used at the nearest cell towers of the victims’ homes, the victims’ places of work, and also the people whose names I gave you. And if the Federales inquire about it, say that DynaCorp had contracts with the U.S. military, which is true, and we’re just checking for suspects along that angle.

“But can we use that excuse for both murders?” Mary asked as she typed, her fingers flying on the keyboard, an algorithm to search for the information already forming on the screen.

“Absolutely. Just don’t mention the other murder. Myron, fill Mary in on what’s going on. You’re right– this girl is good.” I said as I noted the elegance of her program even as she typed it at lightning speed. Mary smiled at the compliment and kept on typing.

“Great work, guys. Keep it up.” I said again, as I walked out.


“Misssss Ross, we have work to do.” I hissed as I entered the MCD room. Cindy did not move out of her chair as she drank coffee and read the paper, her feet propped up on her desk. Teresa was using the computer to get some information on a drug perp, and only glanced up at me as she typed.

I called to the Uniformed Officers Cihangir travesti Desk and requested that Patrolwoman Diana Torres come to MCD. Torres was aware of Cindy’s orientation. She came in within a minute, and I spoke to her and Cindy:

“I would like you two to come with me to interview Karla Warner and Katherine Wilson. It’s about time we got the truth out of them, the whole truth.”

“It would be my pleasure.” Cindy said dramatically, matching my own voice and mood as she threw down her paper. “What’s the plan?”

As I told them, I noted that Diana’s eyes looked excited; she was happy to be part of my investigation. She did not know that if I had my way, she would soon be part of my MCD Detective team…


“Thank you for taking the time to talk to us today.” I said. Diana Torres and I were in Katherine Wilson’s apartment, a small but adequate one-bedroom floor plan in the district just south of the downtown area, not far from DynaCorp’s headquarters. Anthony Warner’s administrative assistant, Gayle Roberts, also had an apartment in this gated complex.

“How can we help you?” Katherine Wilson asked. We sat in chairs we had pulled up and the ladies were seated on the sofa opposite us, their black dresses showing off their nice legs, both wearing high heel black pumps. Karla Warner said nothing; her eyes still looked daggers at me after the confrontation over her daughter the day before.

“First, I have to ask this question: now that Mr. Warner has passed away, what is going to happen to the company?” I asked.

“Anthony had 80% of the shares.” Katherine replied. “The other 20% belonged to the other board members, in varying amounts. I had about 5%. But upon Anthony’s death, his shares were split equally between Karla, myself, Karen and Seth, and I had to give up any other shares I owned.”

“So the entire family benefited equally, no one more than another.” I said.

“You make it sound like there’s something sinister in it.” Karla Warner said, her voice icy and accusing.

“By no means, but we have to ascertain who might have had a motive to kill your husband, Mrs. Warner.” I replied, unperturbed at her hostility. “In fact, the arrangement Mrs. Wilson has described is much less sinister than if either of you inherited the entire company alone.” They did not notice that I had raised my pen up at an odd angle as I spoke. It was a signal.

“By the way… oh, thank you Detective Ross.” I said as Cindy came into the room and handed me a folded piece of paper as if it were a note. She looked meaningfully at them, as I had instructed her to. Both women practically jumped out of their skins when they recognized her.

“Ah, I see both of you know Detective Ross.” I said enthusiastically. The women looked at her, then they looked at each other… and reacted, their eyes even more uncomfortable.

“Thank you, Miss Ross.” As Cindy left the room, Diana Torres took up a position several feet away, just watching. I bored in on the two women.

“Okay ladies,” I said. “It’s time we get to the truth: are the two of you having a sexual relationship… with each other?”

“Why, you–” Katherine Wilson started, pretending indignation, but was stopped by Karla Warner’s hand being placed over hers on her lap.

“It’s okay, Katherine.” Mrs. Warner said, and I knew that she was smart and cunning enough to know the game I was playing. “Yes, Lieutenant, we are lovers.”

“For how long?” I asked.

“Since the time we met, when Anthony introduced us right after he began dating me.” Karla Warner replied. “It was love at first sight for both of us, and we have been in a relationship ever since.”

“Good enough.” I said, trying to keep my voice soft. “Did your husband know of your relationship?”?

“If he did,” Karla said, “he never said a word to me. I tend to doubt that he knew; he’s the kind of man that would’ve confronted Fındıkzade travesti one or the other of us if he found out.”

“Did your husband know, Mrs. Wilson? Was your relationship with your sister-in-law the reason for your divorce?” I asked, trying to get Katherine to respond instead of acquiescing to the dominant Karla Warner.

“Yes, and no.” Katherine said. “My husband was a lying sack of shit, a real dirtbag. He was verbally abusive and an alcoholic. That’s why I turned to Karla; she was there for me…” Her hand clutched Karla’s and they briefly smiled at each other. “But to answer your question, he called me a dyke a couple of times, so I think he knew.”

“Did he ever physically abuse you?” I asked.

“Only once, at the end.” Katherine replied. “He slapped me. I ran out and went straight to Anthony and Karla. Anthony took a couple of his workers and went over there. I don’t know what happened, but David never came near me again. He ended up leaving town pretty soon after. Anthony got me this apartment the next day, and also called the lawyers to start the divorce proceedings.”

“You’re not the only one with a crowbar in this Town, Lieutenant.” Karla Warner said venomously.

“No doubt about that. Mrs. Wilson, do you think your ex-husband might’ve come back and killed your brother?” I asked, somewhat brutally.

“I… I don’t know.” Katherine said.

“Her ex-husband was a weak man.” Karla said. “I don’t think he had the balls to do something like that. And he’s been gone for years. Anthony kept a watch on him for a while when David moved to the City, to make sure he didn’t try to come back to Katherine, but he never did… and eventually we lost track of him.”

“Thank you, ladies.” I said. “I have just a couple more questions: Mrs. Wilson, we have a record of a car being rented by you on the afternoon of the murder. Why did you rent that car?”

“I can answer that.” Mrs. Warner said, stepping in very quickly. “My car is in the shop, and we rented that car in order to get around and go to the Ladies Auxiliary dinner for Mrs. York.”

“And you did not use Mrs. Wilson’s car?” I said.

“Her car was stolen three weeks ago.” Karla said. “The insurance company is being damned slow about things, so we haven’t gotten her a new one yet.”

“I see.” I said. I did not need to pursue the matter further, I had seen what I had expected to see: shock on Katherine Wilson’s face. She had not known that the rented car was in her name.

“Mrs. Wilson, during the course of our investigation, we have discovered that the reason for the board meeting your brother called was for the purpose of removing you from the Board of DynaCorp. Are you aware of that?”

“I am now.” Katherine Wilson said, near tears. “The lawyer… the in-house counsel… called me late yesterday afternoon and informed me that I’d been fired and removed from the Board.”

“Sommes?” I asked.

“Yes.” Karla Warner replied, her eyes flashing anger. “The bastard didn’t even offer condolences over Anthony’s death before telling Katherine that. He said Willoughby ordered him to make the call. Needless to say, however, that lawyer is now seeking employment elsewhere. I fired him within ten minutes of hearing what he’d done to Katherine. And I’ll deal with Willoughby next.”

“I don’t blame you a bit.” I said, my sentiment very genuine. “Lawyers are totally heartless bastards.” The women could not have known I was thinking of my father at that time, though he truly wasn’t a heartless man… just a naive and too-trusting man.

“I have just one more question: did either of you know a Robert or Michelle Schelle?” I watched their faces carefully.

“No.” said Katherine Wilson, quickly. She was telling the truth, as far as I could tell.

“No, I don’t, but I’ve heard the name… oh, wasn’t she killed in her hot tub around the same time my husband was murdered?” Karla Warner said. Her Fulya travesti eyes had turned inquiring and suspicious, and she definitely was suspicious of me… but there had been no initial reaction to the mention of their names.

“That is true.” I said. “I just wanted to make sure we don’t have someone with a reason to have killed both your husband and Mrs. Schelle, but it looks like the deaths are unrelated.”


“So, ladies, tell me your impressions.” I said. We’d driven up to the front office building of the apartment complex and were sitting on benches outside.

“I didn’t see too much of it.” Cindy replied. “But they reacted when they saw me, and then looked at each other. I don’t think either of them knew the other had dated me, but realized it at that moment.”

“I agree.” I said. “That’ll be one conversation-starter between them. Diana?”?

“I tried to watch them as you asked me to.” the pretty Hispanic policewoman said. “But Mrs. Warner, she’s very good at keeping her feelings off of her face. Ms. Wilson, she was an open book, I’d say she looked… very confused the whole time.”

“Very good.” I said. “I agree with you. Did you notice their reactions when I mentioned the car being rented in Katherine’s name?”

“Oh yes.” Diana said. “Ms. Wilson had this ‘what the hell?’ look on her face.”

“Exactly.” I replied. “That’ll be another talking point between them… maybe.

“Think we need to look into Willoughby?” Cindy asked. “He ordered the legal beagle to treat Mrs. Wilson like that, and he was uncooperative with Hugh and Martin the night of the murder. He was at the scene, maybe there’s something there?”

“No, not for the murder… though I suspect we’ll be hearing Willoughby’s name again soon, but it will be from our friends in Vice or from the FBI.” I said. “Great job today, ladies. You can head on back. Keep looking into the Schelle case. I want to know everything about Robert Schelle, where he’s been the past four months, what he ate for dinner, who he associated with, everything he’s purchased with a credit card, and so on.”

“Wilco.” Cindy replied. “And you?”

“I have one other errand to do around here before I head back.” I said.

“Can I ask you a question, Lieutenant?” Diana said. Cindy tried hard to keep her eyes from rolling, not at Diana wanting to ask, but at my response of “Sure, you may ask…” as I sat back down.

“Weren’t both those women at the Ladies Club event?” Diana asked. “Don’t they have an alibi for Mr. Warner’s murder? And there appears to be no motive for Mrs. Warner at all. I know you hate alibis, but I don’t understand where this was all going…”

“Diana,” Cindy interjected before I could respond. “Welcome to Town I knew she’d anticipated my visit long before I placed the phone call a couple of hours beforehand.

“My sister took my daughter out shopping, so I’m here alone.” Gayle said, a clear signal and invitation for me to seduce her. And I intended to.

“I just have a couple of questions.” I said as we sat down on the sofa, very close to each other. Gayle crossed her legs in a way to let her dangling foot caress my lower leg. “Did any of the Warner’s know Robert or Michelle Schelle?”

“The name… sounds familiar,” Gayle said, “but I don’t know why. I don’t think Anthony knew them professionally, and I don’t remember their names on invitation lists when Anthony or Karla hosted parties.”

“The name is probably familiar to you because you heard it on TV.” I said. I was disappointed that there had been no link that Gayle could remember, but I intended to assuage my disappointment. My hand was now on her leg, gently massaging her slim thigh through the dress.

“I see.” said Gayle. “I hope your next questions are much more…personal.” Her eyes were boring into mine and her mouth was slightly open as her hand slid over my shoulder. Our mouths met and pressed together tightly in a hot kiss, our tongue instantly twining and battling.

“Yes…” I whispered, just breaking the kiss, our lips still practically touching. “Deep… probing.. questions…” Our mouths slammed back together as we hungrily made out, our hands feeling each other up, exploring.

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