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Subject: {ASSM} RP: Janey's September (F+M+ cons)
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<1st attachment, "J_September_POST.txt" begin>
WARNINGS: This story includes explicit descriptions of sexual
acts. If reading this might involve you or another person in an
illegal act, or you are offended by the exploration of adult themes
in literature or on the Internet, do not read further.
Copyright 1999 by Jane Urquhart. The author is a member of the
Net Authors and Creators Union (NACU), which defends the
rights of Internet authors and creators. NACU intends to bring
suit against any person or corporation infringing copyright.
Specific permission is granted for publication in the news groups
Alt.Sex.Stories and Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated and for archiving
by the Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated archive, Deja.com, and
RemarQ.com. All other rights are reserved. Do not repost or
distribute by any other means without express permission from
the author
Anniversary Edition--this story was first posted on Nov. 10, 1999. -- J.
Janey's September (F+M+ cons)
by Janey
"Son of a bitch is from California," Nicole said in a
conversational tone. "I should have expected this when I married
him." Then she crossed her arms and pulled her T-shirt over her
head, exposing a lacy bra. "Let's see just how much 'fun and
games' he's prepared to put up with."
Turning toward the trees, she shouted, "Hey, Bob! Hurry
up! Time for my peaches!" Bob picked up the basket and
headed toward her. The closer he got, the slower he walked. I
guess the basket was heavy. Or maybe he was afraid he'd trip,
since he was staring at Nicole's nice bra. He finally set down the
basket.
I just took those paragraphs right out of the middle of this
story and stuck them up there so you'd have some idea what
you're getting into.
* * *
"So what are you reading these days?"
I can't think of anything more innocuous to ask than that.
It was just one of those lunches where everybody is kind of tired
and people have already finished trashing their bosses or their
employees and stopped complaining because it's raining and
generally haven't got much to say. So I threw it out.
Nicole looked at me with a funny little smile. "You really
want to know?"
Well, maybe not before I asked, but I sure did after she
said that.
"Yeah, Nicole," I said. "Tell us what the modern
Franco-American artists' community is reading."
"Nancy Friday. You ever heard of her?"
Well, well. "I may have." These are my best friends, but
I am a careful person. "Some kind of feminist stuff, right?"
"Women's fuck fantasies," Beth helpfully supplied. Beth
is not a careful person. "I read 'em years ago."
Nicole, who is pretty dark, managed to blush anyhow.
"She's written some other things since, you know," she
said accusingly.
"Yeah, but you wouldn't look like that if you were reading
the book about her mother." Beth may not be careful, but she's
not stupid. "My question is, where do you hide them?"
"Hide them?" Nicole asked. "Uh, yes, I see what you
mean. I don't exactly hide them, I just keep them in my desk at
work. The kids aren't going in there."
"No." Beth shook her head. "I mean from your husband."
We all knew each other's husbands well. We did all sorts of
things together, and we women hung out with each other when
the guys went off to do guy things.
"He doesn't go in there, either." Nicole managed to blush
again.
"I figured," said Beth. "I read the good ones out loud to
Steve, but I'm the only woman I ever heard of who didn't hide
them from her husband."
"I wasn't married yet when I read them," I answered. No
use trying to look innocent in this crowd. They knew me too
well.
"Bet you didn't keep them around," Beth observed,
spearing a piece of pineapple off her plate with a toothpick.
"Might frighten Bob." She daintily put the pineapple in her
mouth.
"I guess I do hide them from Ken." Nicole looked at
Beth. "Why do I do that?"
"What I said. Might frighten the old man. If you read
fantasies, you probably have them. Ergo, you're a crazed
nymphomaniac he can't possibly satisfy ever and you're probably
going to go down to the Combat Zone and pick up three sailors
any day now."
"But I'm not!" Nicole looked shocked. "I've been faithful
all these years; I have three kids; I'm thirty-two years old. Why
would he think that?"
"He wouldn't," Beth said, "but that's what you're afraid
of."
Nicole thought about that. You could practically hear all
those little gears grinding away. Then she looked at me.
"Do you hide things from your husband?"
"Not lately. Well, not much, anyhow." My turn to skewer
pineapple off Beth's plate. I'd already eaten up all of mine. "But
I used to. And Beth's right. We're all afraid to shock the poor
dears. Even now, when he knows I write sex stories, I'm a little
careful with some things. I'm a good editor--I edit."
"Bob knows you write those stories?"
"Sure," I said. "I spent so much time at the computer I
had to tell him. Also, I was so proud of the first one I had to
show it to him. Especially since it was about the time we went to
the opera with Beth and Steve. He laughed like hell. I was afraid
he'd blow a gasket, but he didn't. I think he's kind of pleased I'm
so literary." I smiled.
"Bet you didn't show him the Sandman one," Beth said.
"I did, too! He thought it was--I quote--'kind of cute.'
Warmed him up a bit, I recall." Remembering, I found myself
smiling again.
"So I'm the only coward around," Nicole said.
"No, you're not." Beth looked up at me fiercely. "Janey, if
you eat that last piece of pineapple I'll jab you with this
toothpick." She turned back to Nicole. "We're all cowards. See,
we've got these guys. Really fine husbands. We're wives. If we
fuck up and they leave, who are we then? Single mothers? Gay
divorcees? Yuck. So we're careful. Janey and I are noted for
being 'liberated,' but we're not. Not really. I haven't told Steve
about the little orgy I attended when I was in B School. No way.
I'm supposed to make him happy, not shake him up."
"I don't think Bob ever knew about that football poster I
had over my bed in college, and I don't really see any need to tell
him I have a thing for linebackers, do you?" I took the pineapple
anyhow and she didn't strike. But I hollered at the waiter and
made him bring us another plate of fruit along with the check.
You never can tell. "Haven't told him about the tight end I had
this little arrangement with senior year, either. Never did score a
linebacker, though. Pity."
"You have a thing about linebackers and you married that
string bean?" Nicole laughed.
"I don't want to be married to one, but I could find some
other uses for them," I said.
"Why not quarterbacks? They're supposed to have
brains."
"Not required, and they're too little." This time I used my
fork on a chunk of honeydew. "Brains I wanted to be married to.
Different thing."
"Don't mind little sawed-off oil men, either, do you,
dear?" Beth has a wonderful smile. She was referring to her
husband, our hard man, who, despite his short stature, is the
toughest business man and general hardass I ever have had the
pleasure of, uh, meeting.
"If I can't get a linebacker," I said with extreme
nonchalance.
Nicole was mystified.
"What the *hell* are you two taking about?"
"Tell us about your fantasies, Nicole," I said, picking up
the subject bodily andthrowing it as far as I could.
"Well, they aren't linebackers." She started to blush
again, but not quite so much. "All right, I'll tell you. I dream of
orgies. Just little orgies. With my friends." Then she did blush.
"Us? You mean us? Must be--you don't have any other
friends." I sort of giggled. I do not giggle. Except sometimes,
and then only sort of.
"I have plenty of other friends." She threatened to throw
a strawberry at me. "But sometimes, yeah, I have little orgies in
my head with you guys. More with your husbands." Back to
blush city. "I never, ever, thought I'd tell that to anybody at all,
ever."
"Not even Ken?" I asked innocently.
"Especially not Ken. You think I 'm crazy?"
"See? That's what I mean," said Beth. "How do you
know he's not just itching to get his hands on Janey's left boob?"
"You can leave my boobs out of this, " I said.
"OK, I have a left boob, too." Beth stood up, the organ in
question modestly covered by her dress-for-success suit. "Think
he'd like a little taste? He does look, you know. They all look. I
have to go, anyhow. You dear people may be ladies of leisure,
but I have a company to run. Maybe we can continue this on the
weekend."
We both stood and gave her little cheek kisses and Beth
hurried off, her heels clacking on the tiled floor. The Trident
isn't exactly an upscale restaurant. When she'd gone, we sat
down again and Nicole turned to me.
"I am simply amazed at her. OK, she looks like the
sexpot of the century, but she's always so, so together. Sure, she
jokes all the time and throws out innuendoes, but I never realized
she analyzed behavior like that."
"She is indeed the sexpot of the century," I said, "and she
makes money by knowing how people operate. She wouldn't
know Shakespeare from Adam's off ox, but she reads all kinds of
stuff to keep informed. She probably knows more practical
psychology than I do, and I studied the stuff in school."
"Well, she made me think."
"Ah, Nicole." I sort of gazed off into the distance.
"These orgies. Have you always had that kind of fantasy? Or is
it something recent?"
Nicole thought for a minute. "No, they're fairly recent.
That's odd, now that you mention it--ten years ago I'd have
thought an orgy was disgusting. Just sex--no romance. I wonder
what's changed?"
"Well, I'm not sure, but I think it's age." I speared another
piece of pineapple and poured the last of my tea out of the
darling little china pot. "I'm not sure, but I think women get
more interested in sex for the sake of sex as they get older. I
wish I knew some other people to ask about that. But I'm exactly
like you. I still like romance, but now that I'm older the idea of
an orgy doesn't exactly turn me off."
"So I'm not a pervert?"
"Either you're not, or we both are," I said. "Nice to have
company."
"Well, it's all fantasy anyhow, so I guess it doesn't
matter." Nicole took the last strawberry and ate it, then started
reaching for her bag. "We have to go, too, we've both got kids to
pick up. So let's get out of here. I'm going to think some more as
soon as I get the chance. They really aren't that fragile, are they?
I mean our husbands. Are they?"
"Nobody's done a study as far as I know, but that's the
way they get treated. We're supposed to be icons of purity, and
we're just part of the grand conspiracy. Can't rock the boat.
Women are mostly wimps. Good combat soldiers, I hear, but
frightened to death if they think something might threaten a
relationship." I got up and we headed down Newbury Street for
our cars.
* * *
That weekend all six of us were up at my in-laws' camp in
Maine. Beth and Steve, Bob and I, and Nicole and Ken. On
Friday afternoon, after we got there and unpacked, we sat around
in the shade in what we call the back yard, just relaxing after a
hard week. It was hot. Not like Texas in July, but pretty warm.
In New England, you never know what the weather's going to be
like, and sometimes we get warm spells in mid-September. We'd
already been swimming in the dinky little pool to cool off. My
kids and Nicole's were running around doing kid things.
Beth and Steve had just bought this place way to
hellangone off in southern New Hampshire. We talked about
their new acquisition, and decided to go take a look at it. She
runs an accounting firm, and she had just stolen this eighty-acre
farm, which included a rundown, beat up old house with a lot of
worn-out furniture in it, from a client who was having a tiny cash
flow problem. She relieved him of this albatross at a very
reasonable price. The client had intended to make a showplace
out of it, but the market made a showplace out of him first.
Options are like that, I understand.
"Hey, Alan!" I shouted. This raggedy-looking kid I
inadvertently produced eleven years ago was running by, chasing
one of Nicole's boys. He skidded to a stop. They toe the line
around my house.
"Huh?" he said. He was looking at me as if I were a
Spanish Inquisitor. "What you want, Mom?"
"We've all decided to go over to New Hampshire
tomorrow to look at the farm Beth and Steve just got," I said.
"You guys can come along, or you can stay here with the parents,
OK? How about you find out what the rest of 'em want to do and
let me know?"
"OK," he said, obviously considering the possibilities.
"Lemme talk to Gramma first."
"Sure," I said, "Just let me know. We're going to take
picnic gear, and we'll probably be gone all day."
By nine o'clock the next morning all three couples were in
our old minivan, heading toward Portsmouth. I'll tell you about
that place sometime, too, but not now. The five kids had decided
to stay at the camp with the old folks, largely, I expect, because
Gramma had promised them a trip to the beach, complete with
all the gooey trimmings. Nicole and Ken were delighted--they
hardly ever got off anywhere without their three kids. Nicole's
folks still lived in Fort Kent, and Ken's were way out west. I'm
one of those lucky people with wonderful in-laws quite nearby.
Of course, they make us take the kids back after only a day or so,
but by then we're usually glad to see the dear things again.
Taking the back roads, we made the trip in about an hour.
Bob was driving; Beth, sitting next to him, was the navigator.
"We're getting close. Turn at the house where the white
dog barks." That's how you give directions in New Hampshire.
Bob saw the dog and turned, and about a hundred feet
later Beth directed him through a broken gate. She made me
promise not to tell you where the place is, but you probably
couldn't find it even if I did. Lots of white dogs in New
Hampshire.
We drove up this rutted road through a broad field of
grass that came up to the car windows. Beth said she'd hired
somebody to hack down the brush for thirty or forty yards around
the house, and she'd had the electricity and the water pump
turned on.
"We've only been here a couple of times, so it's still a
total mess," she warned us. When we finally got to the house, we
were pleasantly surprised to find that it hadn't actually fallen
down. The paint was pretty shot, but the big wrap-around porch
was only sagging in a few places.
We all piled out of the car and started wandering. Rusty
parts of old tractors were half buried here and there, but on the
whole the place was kind of pleasant. It was very quiet--you
could hear a nuthatch going "quick-quick" in a huge old maple
tree not far from the house, and now and then a little breeze
made the grass rustle. The sun shone, the air smelled fresh. It
had been cool that morning, but it was warming up fast. Not
your typical New England day.
"Come on around back," Beth said. "I want to show you
the orchard. It's just a lot of old sad-looking little trees, but it's
got possibilities, I'm told." Her voice sounded loud in the silence.
So we traipsed around to the back of the house and found
the shade. An old wooden picnic table stood there waiting for us.
The orchard started around a hundred feet from the back door;
maybe ten rows of ten trees, all about fifteen to twenty feet tall
and thickly covered with leaves. You could see the odd fruit here
and there. Ken and Steve went ahead. Just inside the trees they
stopped.
"Hey, Beth," Ken said, raising his voice. "You've got a
real orchard here!"
Coming up to him, Beth said, "What do you mean? Of
course it's an orchard."
"No, look." He waved an arm at the trees. "Look at
those--on this side they're covered with peaches, and on that side
there are at least three kinds of apples!"
We all gawked. Sure enough, there was fruit everywhere.
None of the trees was exactly loaded, but most of them had a few
branches sporting medium-size peaches or apples, and fruit flies
were working on the windfalls.
Beth reached up and picked a peach off a low branch and
took a big bite out of it. Everybody stood and watched. You get
fruit at a supermarket, right? Not off a tree.
"It's good!" she said, looking startled. Then she took
another big bite. Juice ran down her chin and dripped on her
chest. She wasn't wearing a shirt, just a red bandanna tied around
her breasts, so the juice had a clear field, so to speak. A little
river started running down into the valley.
Ken stood there, doing a topographical survey. He
glanced over at Nicole and looked back at Beth. Then he put a
hand on Beth's shoulder, leaned down, and licked a wide swath
right across the top of one breast.
"Yummy!" he said.
"You bastard!" Nicole said, smiling.
"You didn't want me to let that nice juice go to waste, did
you?" said Ken defensively, eyeing his wife. Beth started
laughing.
"Better corral this guy, Nicole," she said. "I'm for sure
going to eat the rest of this peach!"
"Here, have one, Janey," said Steve, pulling a couple of
peaches off the tree. "You, too, Nicole." He handed one to each
of us. "Eat up!" He winked at Beth. Bob, on the other hand, was
studying his peach carefully. I could tell he wasn't at all sure this
whole scene was quite what it should be. Me, I go with the flow.
Mostly.
I looked at Nicole. She looked at me. Both of us smiled
at the same time.
"If you think I'm going to take off my shirt to eat this,
you're crazy!" she said. Like me, she had on a designer T-shirt.
Hers said "Kennebunk Lumber." Mine said "Maine Diner."
"Heck," said Steve. "It's warm enough I'd think you'd
want to shed as much as you can." He started struggling out of
his own T-shirt. It was just plain white. The crisis apparently
over, Bob and Ken immediately followed suit. Everybody was
wearing shorts, so there was an awful lot of untrammeled male
on view. I really like that kind of view a lot.
Nicole came over close to me. "I never saw Beth like this
before," she said in a near-whisper. "I mean, we've known all of
you for years, but she asked for that. She talks a good game,
sometimes, but still."
"Vintage Beth," I said. "You know she's an accountant.
For months she has enough numbers in her head to start a
calculator factory, then, once in a while, not often, she turns into
Beth Bonks Baltimore or something. We're used to it. I'm
surprised you never noticed. Don't let it bug you."
All four of us had been hanging around with Beth and
Steve since they moved to Boston a couple of years ago. I'd
known Beth since we were freshmen in college. Nicole and Ken
owned three frame shops, one for the summer people in
Kennebunk and two that were open year-round in Boston, so we
were able to spend a lot of time together. Ken, the laid-back
California artist, and my husband, the uptight history prof from
New England, had mysteriously found each other fascinating
some years back, and they both thought Steve was something
from outer space and admired him at the same time. I was the
only one who knew the real Beth, though, and I saw an
enthralling day beginning to develop. Except I wasn't sure
"enthralling" was the right word. Alarming, maybe?
Beth continued to eat the peach. The juice continued to
drip. When she finished the first one she grabbed another. She
managed to contort herself so that her whole chest was soaked in
peach juice. Bob and Steve apparently decided to get in the
game, so pretty soon she had three guys lapping like Cocker
Spaniel puppies at the water bowl, pushing each other away to
get in a lick, hollering, carrying on.
"Hey, guys," Beth yelled, "Take it easy!" She dodged
away and tugged at her bandanna, which was beginning to slip.
Her husband shoved my husband out of the way and got in a big
lick.
"More!" shouted Ken, moving in like a bulldozer.
Nicole stood there open-mouthed and watched. She
forgot to eat her peach. Then she turned to me again with a nasty
grin on her face.
"I'll bet she's already got at least one bedroom in this old
place fixed up with mirrors on the ceiling. And by the way, those
are *our* husbands over there making spectacles of themselves."
"I did notice that," I said. I took a bite of my peach,
carefully leaning forward to avoid unseemly drips. Then,
gesturing at Nicole's quite respectable chest, I said to her, "You
could compete fairly effectively, I expect, if you wanted to get
them away from her."
"I think I'll start hauling the picnic baskets around here
instead," she said. "Dam' fools!" Then she stalked off around the
corner of the house, heading for the car. I followed, finishing my
peach on the way--carefully.
We'd barely gotten the lid lifted on the back end of the
van when Beth skipped up, still tugging her bandanna back into
place. She was carrying a wet towel, and looked perfectly
normal.
"Thought I'd help," she said. "There's a lot of this stuff."
"What'd you do with all the tongues?" I asked.
"I think they're still hanging out," she said. "But I have
some things I want you two to help me with. The attic is full of
old quilts and things, and I want to get them out to air."
"Funny," Nicole said. "The guys were acting like they
were looking forward to an early lunch."
Beth laughed. "Relax, Nicole," she said. "The orgy
doesn't start until later."
"Hmpf," said Nicole, heading back toward the puppy
pound, carrying a laundry basket full of food.
"Kind of uptight, isn't she?" said Beth. "It's the fucking
weekend. Time to let down our hair."
"Uh, well," I said, "I think maybe she hasn't had your
advantages. Some things take a little getting used to."
"Sure," said Beth. As it happens, Beth does a lovely
number in wicked smiles. "But she does have fantasies. I shall
personally arrange for her to get a crash course in weekend fun."
"Don't you dare pull anything, you little creep!" I said.
"Nicole is a fine upstanding citizen and she's a good friend of
yours and mine both."
"Her husband's upstanding, too," said Beth. "Did you
notice?"
"Please pick up that bowl of potato salad and proceed to
the back yard, would you, dear?" Arguing with Beth is not one of
the things I do well. I'm an artist at ignoring her, however.
The gentlemen got sent back to the car to bring around
the coolers full of assorted drinks. Beth eyed the orchard for a
moment, then remembered she had work to get done.
"Want to look around inside?" she asked. "Some of the
furniture is fairly good. And the old wallpaper is still hanging on
in some of the rooms. Then we can haul down the quilts." She
turned to Steve, who was just coming around the corner of the
house with an icebox.
"We're going inside for a minute," she said to him. "Why
don't you guys get out some of those lovely K-Mart lawn chairs
we bought last week?" Then she and Nicole and I walked up the
rickety wooden steps to the back door.
Nicole was mistaken--no mirrors in the master bedroom.
It was clean, though, and there was a double bed along with two
night tables and a couple of slightly uncomfortable looking
antique rockers.
"I got this fixed up last weekend," Beth said. "We have to
take off work and camp up here for a few days until we figure out
what to do next. The telephone is supposed to be here soon, so
Steve can do business while I sort out the contractors."
Two other bedrooms were empty, and the bath was old,
but the water and the lights worked. The old flowered wallpaper
was pretty. Beth and Steve wouldn't suffer too much, I figured.
Each of us took two or three of the old quilts and a pillow
or two and trudged back down the stairs into the back yard. Bob
and Steve were tossing around a softball somebody found in the
car, which tends to be full of kiddie droppings. Ken had whipped
out the ever-present sketchbook and was sitting in a lawn chair,
drawing away.
Beth took us over to one side of the "yard"--that is, the
more or less cleared ground--and we spread the quilts out.
"These probably aren't worth saving," she said, "but a
dealer wants to look at them. They're way too heavy to sleep
under any time we're likely to be here."
All laid out they looked inviting, colorful and soft, even
though some of them were tattered and torn. Some were in the
sun, some in the shade. Beth went over to a sunny spot and
plopped herself down.
"Probably the last sunny day until next June," she said.
"I'm just going to lie here and get fried."
Nicole and I carried over lawn chairs and sat down beside
her. It was glorious, just sitting there in the sun, nothing to do,
nobody screaming for Mommy and nothing to clean up. I'd just
about relaxed when Ken came wandering over, his sketch book
left in his chair.
"Hey, Beth, wouldn't you like another peach?" he said,
grinning. "Bob said he was going to bring over a basket full."
Bob was headed for the orchard, all right, carrying one of the
laundry baskets. He'd emptied its contents--most of our
lunch--onto the table.
Beth just lay there with her eyes closed. Then she opened
one eye and looked at Ken.
"If I'm going to be somebody's peachsicle again, I'm
going to have company," she said. "Hey, Jane, want to eat
peaches?"
"I'm beginning to have the odd feeling that she has
something more than eating peaches in mind," Nicole said to
me. "Tell me I'm wrong."
"Uh, I think you might be right," I said. "She does seem
to have, uh, something in mind. Do you have something in mind,
Beth?"
"Me?" Beth said. "I just like to eat peaches. And these
are good ones."
"Juicy, I noticed," Nicole said.
"Yes," said Beth. "That can pose a problem. Or maybe it
can pose an opportunity. We could have a peach feast."
"I'll go help Bob," Ken said, then he wandered off. My
husband is your typical workaholic; naturally he'd found a job to
do. Ken seemed to be wondering what he'd started. He hadn't
started it, but I don't think he knew that.
"This feast she's talking about," Nicole said. "You don't
mind your husband sharing in this little feast?" She seemed to
have stopped smiling.
"Well . . . . Strange things sometimes happen when we're
with Beth and Steve."
"Yeah," said Nicole. "Strange." She rose and marched up
to her husband, who was standing a few yards away watching
Bob pick peaches.
"Hey," she said, getting just a little too close and looking
right up into his face. "Have you noticed anything odd going on
here?"
"I suppose you could say that," he answered with a little
smile. "Why?"
"Why?" she said. "Why?" Then she took a deep breath.
"What I think is that we are about to be treated to a strip tease.
Maybe two strips tease. At the very least. Doesn't that bother
you at least a little?"
"Oh, hell, Nick," he said. "Don't be so uptight. It's all just
fun and games. Nothing to get in a stew about." Nicole stood
there staring at him for a long minute. Then she turned away and
came back to where I was standing.
"Son of a bitch is from California," she said in a
conversational tone. "I should have expected this when I married
him." Then she crossed her arms and pulled her T-shirt over her
head, exposing a lacy bra. "Let's see just how much 'fun and
games' he's prepared to put up with."
Turning toward the trees, she shouted, "Hey, Bob! Hurry
up! Time for my peaches!" Bob picked up the basket and
headed toward her. The closer he got, the slower he walked. I
guess the basket was heavy. Or maybe he was afraid he'd trip,
since he was staring at Nicole's nice bra. He finally set down the
basket.
"Here you go," he said, continuing the examination with
interest. I didn't blame him; most women don't wear lacy bras
under their T-shirts. As a matter of fact, some of us don't wear
any bra at all under our T-shirts when it's hot. Like me, for
instance. I thought I'd wait and see a couple more cards before I
joined this peach-eating contest.
Nicole reached down into the basket and picked out a
nice peach with a red blotch on it. Everybody stood still and
watched. She leaned forward and took a bite. Then she
straightened up and took another bite. That juice sure knew
where to fall. My husband looked at me with a little grin. Then
he put a hand on each of Nicole's shoulders, leaned over, and
licked, as expected. He straightened up smiling.
"Yummy!" he said. Then he leaned over again, his hands
still on her shoulders, and gave Nicole a big kiss. She put up
with it for a second then jumped backward, slapping a hand off
her shoulder.
"Hey!" she said. "I thought we were eating peaches!"
"You're a peach, Sweetie!" Steve said, elbowing Bob
aside. "I'll eat you any time!"
My, my.
I knew already that Steve liked tiny little accountants and
great big hulks with messy hair, but that persuaded me that he
had really catholic tastes.
About this time Ken came over and stood next to me.
"I'm beginning to think you guys have been engaging in
various practices we weren't told about."
"You started it," I said. "Beth was just innocently eating
her peach, and you started it!"
"Yeah," he said, smirking. "But Beth has never done
anything innocently in her whole life."
"You better check with Nicole," I said. "I'm not sure how
she's liking this."
"Oh, don't worry," he said. "She just got kissed, and she
didn't kill him--that's a good sign."
"She's your wife, but she looks like your typical Maine
Franco babe to me--black hair, fierce eyes, and tough as nails. I
watch out for that kind. We've known you a long time, but I don't
think we've ever been in quite these circumstances."
"Circumstances," he said. "I like that word. What kind of
circumstances would it take to get that T-shirt off of you?"
"Me? Uh, well . . . ." I really had to give that question
some thought. Obviously it wasn't impossible that I'd lose the
shirt, but I thought I'd wait a little longer and see how the game
was progressing. How can you go with the flow if you don't
know how the flow is going?
Bob was standing next to Beth, who was, of course, still
lying on her quilts. Then she sat up and took a peach from his
hand. She brought it to her beautiful ruby lips. Bob was rapt as
he watched her progress. She stuffed half the peach into her
mouth, which is not tiny, before she bit down. When she did the
juice squirted everywhere, but most of it seemed to find its way
to the place juice seemed to be going that day.
So Bob squatted down this time for his little sip. Having
gotten it, he then put his hands on Beth's waist and simply lifted
her up high enough for him to kiss her without bending over. It
seemed practical. The kiss was quite prolonged and seemed to
involve considerable exploration. Beth put her arms around his
shoulders to help, keeping a good hold on the remaining half of
her peach while she was doing it. Then Bob slipped one arm
under her knees and gently laid her on her back on the ground.
By this time everybody was watching this little scene, of course.
"Janey," said Nicole, "take off your shirt. It's not fair.
You have clothes on and we don't."
"I don't know, Nicole," I said. "If I in particular take my
shirt off, I have a feeling things might get quite a bit more
interesting pretty fast. I'm not wearing a bra." Three male heads
snapped in my direction.
"Oh," she said. "I see your point."
"I haven't seen her point yet," Ken said. "Neither one of
'em." He looked at Bob and Steve. "You guys think we ought to
consider her points?"
"You might get hurt if you pressed her too hard on this,"
Bob observed. "But they're definitely worth considering."
"Personally, my point is that I've gone about as far as I'm
prepared to go, and I don't blame her a bit," said Nicole.
I just stood there. It was like watching a tennis match as
the comments began to flow back and forth. I did think it was
nice of Bob to give me that testimonial. Boobs are not my big
thing. Things. They're more like my little things.
"But, honey," said Ken, "we sat around on that Italian
beach last summer with hundreds of women who weren't wearing
brassieres, including you."
"Nobody was licking peach juice off them, though, and
this is New Hampshire. There's probably a law." Nicole said.
"The peaches probably weren't ripe yet," Bob said
helpfully. My husband can be very helpful.
"If we took them on one at a time, we could probably
persuade all three of them to be peachsicles," Steve said.
I was quite interested in what Nicole would say to that,
because, you know, I had finally concluded that it would be
really nice to take my shirt off and get licked by those three big
wet tongues. Not to mention just parading around getting ogled.
I think maybe I'm a little strange that way, but that's how I am. I
just don't get many chances to do it, that's all. Like none.
"Take it off, Janey," said Beth helpfully. Bob leaned
down, reached around her, and untied the knot in her bandanna,
then whipped it away. Beth still had half a peach in her hand.
She took a bite out of it and didn't say a thing, just sat there in her
bare bazooms. The juice was finding new places to run.
"Oh, shit," said Nicole. "My mother warned me about big
city girls." Then she twisted her bra around, unsnapped it, and let
it fall to the ground. Ogling proceeded, slowly.
"Janey?" Heads turned toward me as Ken spoke.
Taking a deep breath, I took hold of the hem of the shirt
and slipped it off over my head.
"Wow!" said Ken. "Nice!" Then he looked at Beth, who
smiled at him, then at his wife. "See, Nicole," he said, "that
wasn't so bad!"
Nicole was clearly of two minds about this whole
situation.
"So we're on the beach in Italy, OK?" she said. "Now we
just do a little sunbathing, right? That's what we did there."
"I've got a better idea," said Beth. "These guys want
peachsicles. Let's make the guys sunbathe first, then maybe we'll
eat peaches." All the guys were looking at her, wondering what
she had in mind. They were also looking at what she had on her
chest, which was a little more spectacular than the usual
equipment. She appeared to be inspecting her peach with great
interest.
Nicole turned to me again. She took my arm and pulled
me over about ten feet, then she spoke quietly. "Janey. I can see
where this is going, and I've never been there. I'm not sure I want
to go there, either."
"Well, I think maybe I have, and it has a good deal to
recommend it, but I'm with you--whatever feels comfortable to
you is where I'm going, too."
"I told you I've thought about this kind of thing," she
confessed. "I've thought about things that would shock my
husband so much he'd pass out. But thinking about and doing are
two different things."
"You're quite right," I said. "I've done a lot of thinking,
too. But I doubt that Ken would shock all that easily."
"You've thought," she said, "and I gather you've more than
thought. When? Where?"
"Well, last February Beth and Steve and Bob and I went
to Florida for a quick getaway and some odd things happened."
"I remember when you went. Odd?"
"Yeah. We all ended up in the same bedroom doing
interesting things."
"And now we're going to do interesting things out here in
the sunshine?"
"Could happen," I said, taking a bite out of a peach. The
juice felt kind of cool when it hit my left boob.
"But this might spoil everything!" Nicole said. "We've
been friends for so long! If we go on with this, we'll all be
fucking each other right and left and next time we get together
we won't even be able to flirt without somebody thinking it's
going to be another orgy. That is, if somebody doesn't get jealous
and just break us all up. I just don't know if it's wise."
It looked as if Nicole was having the problem I usually
have--she started to think, and that always gets people in trouble.
I felt so sad for her--she had a lot of courage, but she was scared
to death.
Just then Steve wandered over and joined us. Bob and
Ken were out by the trees.
"Got a problem?"
"Nicole's a little spooked. I don't blame her."
"Am I the only one that's afraid?" she asked.
"I think we're all a little afraid," Steve said. "That's part
of the game. That woman over there, she doesn't need me for
money." He nodded toward Beth, who was listening to the
conversation. "I don't think she really needs me for anything. If
she wanted to, she could dump me like one of those peach pits.
She's tough--she'd do OK. But she keeps me around, anyhow."
He smiled.
"I need you," Beth said quietly, looking down at her
peach.
"It's like a test, I guess," Steve continued. "You ever ski a
dangerous slope? Big thrill. Lots of adrenaline. I like that kind
of thing."
"I used to ski like that," Nicole said. "Not since the kids
were born, though. I'm afraid I'll break a leg."
"I'll guarantee you won't break a leg here today," Steve
said, smiling. He reached out and took Nicole's hand. I listened
in amazement. This was our friend in the oil bidness--our hard
man. Yet here he was being so gentle I hardly recognized him. It
was a really nice try, but I thought the orgy was over before it got
started.
Nicole pondered. "What about after it's all over? What
about next week? Things will be different with us all. It scares
me."
"We still hang around with Beth and Steve," I said. "If
anything, it's better. But you still have to be comfortable. If
you're not, the hell with it."
"Fuck it," she said, "I think I'm game. If he is." She
looked over at her husband.
"I think maybe he might be," I said. This was an
understatement.
"OK. Here we go." She raised her voice a bit. "Beth,
how do you plan to arrange this male sunbathing contest?"
"Not a contest," said Beth, tossing her peach seed back
under the trees and pushing herself upright. "Everybody wins.
OK, you guys, come on back here! Take off those shorts and lie
down. All in a row."
Bob looked at me. Ken looked at Nicole. Steve started
unbuttoning his shorts. I just motioned with my peach hand, and
Bob got the message.
Ken started to say something, stopped, and started again.
"This isn't quite what I had in mind. It's like we're a lot of meat
or something."
"Tough," said Nicole. "You want peachsicles, you
sunbathe." She smiled beautifully at her husband.
Very shortly thereafter three male bodies were laid out as
if they had fainted on parade, all in a nice, neat row. Beth put her
hands on her hips and walked slowly down the line, inspecting.
Nicole and I followed, all of us topless.
"They are kind of like a lot of meat, aren't they?" said
Nicole. "Choice cuts, though."
"You'll pay for that remark," Bob said.
"You know," said Beth, "I can't remember doing anything
like this before. We're usually the ones getting inspected." She
turned to the two of us. "I think I like it!"
Well, I liked it, too. Nicely shaped guys, all told. Not as
young as they might be, and not one of them anything like the
linebackers I pine for, but, basically, not bad at all. Good, in fact.
We inspectors weren't all that young, either.
"Think we ought to touch them?" asked Beth. She didn't
wait for an answer. Instead, she took the peach in her hand and
rubbed it over her left nipple and went down on her knees next to
Bob, who happened to be nearest. Then she dangled her
impressive breast under his nose. "Peachsicle," she said. "Want
some?"
Bob snapped like a large-mouthed bass after a worm and
the nipple disappeared into his mouth. His arms went around her
bare back and he pulled her down. But she raised herself just
enough to let the bait dangle enticingly before him, just out of
range.
"Oh, my!" said Nicole, glancing at me.
"That's my line," I said, eyes glued on the performance
art. "Gimme a peach." Nicole took two steps to the big basket
and brought one for each of us. I was beginning to feel a serious
need to become a peachsicle. You know that funny feeling you
get right down there in your private parts sometimes? Yeah, that
one. That's the one I was getting. So I bit into my peach. It
tasted good, I think. I was looking down at the two remaining
sunbathers, who were themselves sitting up and carefully
overseeing the Beth and Bob show. Both of them were
displaying the international symbol for male sexual arousal. I
liked that.
Then Ken jumped up and stepped over to me. Nicole
turned to watch him. She turned back to glance at Steve, who
was still looking at her, holding her hand, and smiling gently.
Then she turned back to watch her husband and me.
Ken was looking at me kind of funny. I ignored him, but
I carefully anointed my entire left breast with peach juice. I
looked up. He wasn't drooling, and he wasn't talking, but his lips
were moving. All at once I found myself falling--he had put his
leg behind mine and tripped me! I did the only possible thing to
avoid crashing down like a mighty forest giant--I bent my knees
and sprawled on the quilt.
"Hey!" I think I was looking a mite cross.
"Hey, hell!" he said. "Lie down! I want my peachsicle in
comfort!"
Just as I was about to comply, Nicole yelled. "Hey, look!"
Then she stood and started unzipping the side of her shorts, while
nodding her head at Beth and Bob. Bob was no longer passively
enjoying his peach juice. He was sitting up, Beth was lying
down, and he was earnestly removing her shorts. She was arched
up to help. When Nicole yelled, Beth turned her head toward us
and smiled. Steve put his arms around Nicole. Ken sat down
with me and we were dead still, just watching. Then I turned to
see Ken's face as Nicole kicked her remaining garments to one
side, grabbed Steve around his neck and threw her legs around
his waist. Ken's expression was hard to read, but I did get the
feeling that might be the first time he'd ever seen his wife
enthusiastically embracing another man without any clothes on.
Then he turned back to me, smiling.
"Uh, where were we?" he said.
"I don't know. I'm just along for the ride. But I am a little
sticky here and there."
"There?" he said, pointing at my left boob, the one I had
peached up carefully a few minutes before and the very one that
had been discussed at lunch on the day of Nicole's confession.
"Yeah, there."
He put his hands on my sides and began using his tongue
to clean my breast. He was really a gentleman--he licked each
side, then carefully raised it up so he could get at the bottom and
worked on that. Only after he had also left the top squeaky clean
did he move in on the nipple. By that time I had achieved a new
level of general satisfaction. I found it necessary to hold his head
and make sure he didn't go up in smoke or something. Then I
found my other hand sneakily moving up his bare leg.
You know, when stuff like this is going on it's really
difficult to keep an eye on what other people are doing, but I
managed. I'm a very curious person.
Over in the sun, Bob was on his knees gently rubbing
Beth's stomach. She was just lying there, her eyes closed,
soaking up sensations.
Nicole's feet were on the ground again, but she was still
locked in Steve's arms. Since they were about the same height,
his pelvis was grinding up against hers. They were rocking
gently.
Suddenly Ken took my hand, pulled me up, and started
tugging me over toward the sunny spot occupied by Bob and
Beth.
"Come on. We need company."
Oh, my. This was getting very interesting. Nicole was
right--there's something about these guys from California, and I
was about to find out what it was.
Bob looked at us as we sank down beside them, and Beth,
suddenly shadowed for a moment, opened her eyes.
"How nice of you to join us," she said, smiling. "I thought
for a minute there we were going to be the main attraction."
Ken gently pushed me back until I was lying right next to
Beth and smiling at my husband, who was on Beth's other side,
looking down at me. Then Ken started stroking the inside of my
thigh. That is something I find quite pleasant. Bob mirrored Ken
and began to run his hand gently over Beth's tender skin.
"What do you think we ought to do now, Bob?" Ken
asked.
"I'll be back in a second," Bob said. He jumped up, took
two steps to the basket and came back with a peach in each hand.
"Here." He handed one of them to Ken, then bit into the one he
still held and started using it to anoint Beth's thigh. I felt warm,
slick fruit moving over my leg, then up between my legs, which
seemed to open wide to accommodate this fascinating
phenomenon. I knew Bob liked peaches, but I hadn't realized he
was quite so inventive. All this was causing some of my natural
juices to begin to run down to mix with those of the peach, and I
was getting warmer; strong feelings of pleasure suffused my
brain. I heard Beth gasp and for once knew exactly how she was
feeling.
Bob threw his peach over on the grass; Ken did the same
thing. Then Ken's head disappeared from view and I felt a
tongue carefully licking away the juices from the inside of my
thigh, then up higher, then all around my labia, and then--oh, my!
I still had enough curiosity to note that the same thing was
happening to Beth. When I took a quick look the other way I saw
that Nicole and Steve had elected a different option--she was on
her knees straddling him, her head thrown back, her body
moving slowly up and down. But by the time I took that in I had
so much electricity coursing through my veins that I lost interest
in everything but the things I was feeling. I do remember
thinking that California had more going for it than I had realized
in the past, but mostly I was just finding life really pleasant and
trying to hold still while the tongue explored my nether regions.
Then I heard Bob speak.
"Hey, Ken! I've tasted that one before, but not with peach
flavoring. You want to try this one?"
The lovely licking stopped, a quick change of position
took place, then it started up again. This time my hand was on
hair I'd have recognized in my sleep. I surely did recognize the
technique. But the feeling was identical. That is to say,
positively ecstatic. And then Bob slid up and I was getting
fucked by my own husband right out there on a quilt behind
Beth's new house with everybody watching except I doubted they
noticed they were all so busy and I felt great shock waves
beginning and I grabbed Bob and crushed him to me and then it
all stopped as I heard Ken say, "Switch?"
There I was on fire and nothing was putting it out and all
of a sudden the fire was roaring even higher and before Ken had
managed more than a stroke or two I was writhing and twitching
and holding him tight and making little whining sounds and
losing it all together. Oh, my goodness me! The man was an
artist indeed! And very soon he was pressing down on me and
moaning and I could hear Bob's familiar cries right next to me.
I found my hand in Beth's, getting a squeeze, and looked
at her. She was grinning and pointing over my head. I looked
over there and saw a messy looking pile of exhausted flesh ten
feet away. But Steve staggered upright just then and gave Nicole
a hand and they came over and joined us. They both squeezed in
between Beth and me and I found myself hugging Nicole and
stroking Steve's back while hands were all over me, moving up
and down, touching me everywhere at once.
Now sex is good in almost any form I can think of, but
never in my life had I felt so much skin at one time and it was
almost better than the sex. I carefully made sure I touched and
stroked each of the five other bodies lying there, while I myself
was being caressed by more hands than I could count. Oh, all
that skin! Then things quieted down, slowly, and we were all
tangled together, breathing quietly and enjoying the sun and
silence--and the touching.
"The skin!" said Nicole, finally. "That's what I dreamed
of. And hard angles and soft curves."
"You dreamed of this?" Ken said lazily. "You never told
me that!"
"Maybe I should have," she said. "But then maybe it was
just as well I didn't--we're here now."
I don't know how he did it under the circumstances, but
somehow Ken found her mouth and kissed her, then lowered his
head back into the pile of bodies. There was no mouth near me,
but I did find a small, warm sticky piece of flesh at hand, so I
took it and gently began to see what would happen if I fondled it
a little. After a couple of minutes it began to grow. I smiled. It
was still very quiet, and nobody else seemed to be moving. A
couple of chickadees had joined the nuthatch somewhere. Who
knows what they were doing? But they made lovely sounds.
"Uh, something is happening here," Ken said.
"Somebody is disturbing the peace."
Four voices spoke denials, almost in unison. I kept quiet.
"Janey, what are you doing to Ken?" said Beth.
"Oh, is it Ken?" I said, carefully sounding puzzled.
"Imagine that! I'm just, uh, sort of . . . ."
"Getting him ready, is it?" Nicole sounded interested.
"You could get me ready, Nicole." Bob was always
looking for something to do. Or somebody, in this case.
Nicole struggled up to her knees and surveyed the lot of
us. Then she reached over and picked up a discarded half-peach.
Holding it in one hand, she sorted Bob's shrunken penis from the
flesh collection and took it in hand. She squeezed juice over it
while I was thinking how sticky her hand must be getting--that
didn't seem to bother her at all. Something bothered Bob,
because he began to wriggle slightly, causing a ripple in the body
pile. By then everybody had to sit up anyhow to see what was
going on. I still had Ken's growing appendage in my right hand,
quietly giving it a little squeeze now and then while I watched
Nicole at work. Bob was rising to the occasion.
"There! Peachsicle!" Nicole sounded terribly pleased
with herself. "Anybody want some? But first, Bob, somebody's
got to lick my hand clean." She held it up to see if there were
any takers. Beth grabbed the waving hand and started licking.
By the time she got around to Nicole's thumb, Nicole, still on her
knees, was bending over to take Bob into her mouth. Ken
slipped his warmed-up penis out of my hand and lurched over
behind her, then aimed carefully and slipped it right into Nicole's
very wet vagina.
Nicole jumped, then settled back to her task while her
husband gently stroked in and out. About that time I felt a pair of
hands come from behind and close over my breasts. Steve
fondled, and I luxuriated.
"On your knees, please, Janey," he said. That sounded
like a good offer to me, and soon the third dagger of the day had
found its way into my very own scabbard. By that time I had
forgotten the need for peach juice. But I hadn't forgotten Beth,
who was lying very near me and looking on with interest as
Nicole held on to Bob's now swollen penis and licked it like the
lovely confection it was, all the while enjoying Ken's slow
penetration and withdrawal.
Beth turned to watch as Steve entered my abode.
"Hey, babe," I said, panting only slightly as I felt Steve
pushing into me. "C'mere." Normally I don't do women, but I
could hardly just enjoy myself and let her lie there and stare.
Wouldn't have been proper--after all, she's my friend.
Beth moved closer and I lifted a hand to stroke her breast.
She slid her head under me and I could reach her belly, then her
mons. I stroked gently, then slipped two fingers inside her lips.
She gasped and clamped down, then relaxed and let me move
another finger inside her, where I found wetness to slip around in
and, soon, a little bump to explore. I tried to concentrate on her
and ignore Steve's thrusts but of course I couldn't.
Steve may be little, but he's strong. He had a grip on my
buttocks that kept me as still as a statue, and he was playing my
vagina as if it were a Stradivarius. He went in, slowly. Then out,
slowly. I just felt. Warmth. Friendly invasion. Stealth. In
again. I could feel the stretch, the alternating opening and
closing. Smooth. Gentle, yet purposeful. The power began to
flow through my veins. But I kept a part of my mind clear as I
stroked Beth's interior, and she pushed herself against my hand,
making little sounds for all the world like a kitten demanding
milk. All at once she raised her head and, leaning on one arm
and grasping me with the other, she took my left nipple into her
mouth.
I glanced at the other threesome as the storm built inside
my body. Still moving, they reminded me of a Greek amphora,
three bodies in perfect communion, Nicole the center, the
connecting link, her husband sliding in out behind her while she
held onto Bob's penis and licked it, made as if to swallow it,
pulled back and licked again. Bob was caressing a breast. Nicole
was beginning to shiver.
As was I. Steve increased the tempo. I felt him pounding
hard into me, jolting me as I used one hand to keep my balance
and the other to stroke Beth's membranes, her clitoris, her inner
being. I leaned over farther to let her get a better purchase on the
breast that was in her mouth. I burned. Then Beth suddenly
convulsed, her head falling to the quilt, her mons ramming itself
into my hand. Steve, just then, slipped his arms around my lower
body and, one last time, pushed himself into my open quim as he
moaned loudly. And then I lost touch, rocketing somewhere,
who knew where? I felt spasms beginning back where Steve still
held me and kept his warm penis firmly embedded in its proper
place; the shocks moved through my breasts, through my neck,
and then I could feel the electricity in my teeth. My eyes
fluttered. I collapsed on Beth. Steve fell on me. Skin.
Steve rolled off onto his back. I gently raised myself
from Beth's prostrate body and sat back on my heels, smiling at
him. He smiled at me. Beth's voice woke up before her eyes
could open.
"I think I like this new place," she said. "Good vibes."
I looked over at Nicole, Bob, and Ken--it was hard to tell
just what part belonged to whom. Like us, they were simply a
pile of humanity. Then Nicole began to extricate herself. She
caught me looking at her and smiled.
"You know, some of those women told Nancy the real
thing wasn't as good as the fantasy when they tried it out. For
me, it's better."
"Hey, Steve!" I punched him on the arm and he looked up
at me. "Get over there and help Nicole! She's still conscious!" I
grinned at him.
You have to hand it to that man. He struggled to his feet
and staggered over to Nicole's side.
"This was your idea, Janey, you call the shots." He
looked at me as if he actually needed some directions.
"Well, it must be five minutes since she was getting
fucked, but I don't suppose you're up for that." I considered.
"Boobs are nice. Suck her boobs."
"Gotta have peach juice for that." He lurched a foot or
two over to the basket and armed himself. Then he just squeezed
the peach over Nicole's chest. She lay there and looked up at
him, maybe just a shade fuzzily. Her eyes closed as his mouth
covered her left nipple and she shivered. As we all watched her
hips quivered gently. Bob pulled himself over next to her, knelt,
and reached for her vagina. A couple of fingers slipped in easily,
and Nicole's hips began to move in rhythm with the pressure of
his hand.
"Come on over, Sweetie." He looked at me and grinned.
"This only takes one hand."
After all, he is my husband, so I obeyed. I lay down next
to his knee and awaited developments. Then, amazingly, his
mouth on my breast was bringing back the electricity I thought
had been shut off. I lay there enjoying myself. I could hear
Nicole beginning to gasp--again. I also could hear Ken
whispering something to Beth, who then giggled. I didn't have
any impulse to check them out just then--I just lay there enjoying
that tongue on my nipple. Then I felt a hand on my thigh,
creeping up. Oh, my.
Gentle strokes moved to the inside of my leg. I moved to
give the hand more room. Then the hand moved away, and a
face moved in between my thighs. A tongue explored my labia,
then the face got closer, hard up against me, and the tongue
found its way inside. I lazily reached down to touch the head that
was between my legs as the shock waves began to build once
again. The tongue was on my clitoris, its roughness starting
enormous strands of pleasure that coursed through my whole
body. Nipple on fire. Vagina ready to spring up. Nicole's
sudden loud cry set off my roman candle and I began to pulse and
to cry gently. I went into full shock, grasping the head with both
hands to push it away--it was too much. And then it drew back
quickly and I heard Beth moan the age-old cry of satisfaction.
Three women, at last exhausted, lay tangled together, breath
quieting, eyes closed.
I came back slowly and glanced around, moving only my
eyes. Steve was standing, smiling. Bob was stretched out beside
us. Ken was on his knees, getting up. I saw no reason to move.
Then Steve spoke: "Anybody want a peach?"
"Not right now," I thought, saying nothing. Then I began
to visualize the sandwiches piled on the old picnic table. I
managed to think some more, just a little. Lunch. Yeah. We
could have lunch. Maybe a little nap. Then. . . .
---THE END---
NOTE: This one took a long time, and I got a lot of help from
my friends. I want to thank Lisa, Old Rotorhead, Shon, Spline
Duck, Vickie, and, of course, Miles, who helps me every time.
Please write to Janey at janey98@hotmail.com
My other stories may be found at
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Jane_Urquhart/www
http://janey98.tripod.com
http://annejet.pair.com/story
Copyright 1999 by Jane Urquhart. The author is a member of the
Net Authors and Creators Union (NACU), which defends the
rights of Internet authors and creators. NACU intends to bring
suit against any person or corporation infringing copyright.
Specific permission is granted for publication in the news groups
Alt.Sex.Stories and Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated and for archiving
by the Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated archive, Deja.com, and
RemarQ.com. All other rights are reserved. Do not repost or
distribute by any other means without express permission from
the author
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