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Message-ID: <30201asstr$989435402@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: kellis <kellis@dhp.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Red Dick's Girl {Kellis} (M+F gangbang oral voy cons)
Date: Wed,  9 May 2001 15:10:02 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Red Dick's Girl

a Short Story
Copyright (c) May, 2001, Kellis
Edited by Ruthie





Hey, was that guy bare-assed?

Dan had risen from adjusting the camcorder tripod when the corner
of his eye caught a flash of skin through the bushes.  Quickly he
snatched up the binoculars and moved to one side for a clearer
view.  A touch on the focusing knob revealed a blond haired man
standing buck-naked, facing the surf with his back toward Dan,
untanned buttocks in bright contrast with dark legs and back.
Two dark-haired men, one slim, the other heavyset, were standing
to either side wearing sunglasses, swim trunks and open shirts.
The heavier was bent, smiling, towards the naked one's middle.
Both were watching something with evident concentration.

Blondy spread his feet farther apart, revealing another pair of
tanned legs folded Indian-style before him under the tiny strip
of a blue bikini bottom:  a woman.  Dan was able to see her navel
dimple beyond the naked man's parted legs and a bit of the
cleavage between blue-clad breasts before dangling testicles
blocked the view.  What was she doing kneeling in front of
Blondy?

In front of _naked_ Blondy!

The answer seemed obvious.  That was verified when her hand
slipped high between the hairy legs to clasp the testicles.
Shortly a finger extended from that hand, sinking deeply into the
crack between the bright cheeks.

Both kibitzers were bent close now.  Dan's concentration on the
center had caused him to miss their disrobing.  Each was naked
except for sunglasses, and each had taken a swollen manhood in
hand.

The little tableau was enlarged in the ten-power binoculars
enough for him to see the white streak that appeared suddenly on
the side of the arm whose hand played with Blondy's balls.  Hands
extended behind to catch himself, Blondy sagged backward to the
sand.  Briefly his hips were uppermost.  The penis thrust
straight up between the woman's lips as she followed him down,
seminal fluid escaping from both sides of her mouth.  Dan heard
distant cheering, apparently emanating from the two kibitzers.

Blondy squirmed on the sand.  She released him and sat up.
Briefly Dan saw her face, anonymous in large sunglasses of her
own, under dark brown hair drawn back into a ponytail by a blue
clip.  She closed her mouth to swallow.  A few white drops had
gathered on her chin, but little evidence of the recent climax
remained.  Suddenly her blue bikini top sagged forward.  One of
the other two men had stepped behind her and unfastened it.  She
shrugged out of it, a maneuver that jiggled her brown-nippled
breasts delightfully despite their maidenly modest size.  Overall
she was slim but not bony.  He decided that instead of a woman,
she was most likely a girl in her late teens.

She turned immediately to the man on her left, grasped the
proffered organ and sucked it into her mouth.  The third man
crouched behind her, bending to cup her breasts in his hands.

Dan's shock was abating, though he rubbed his eyes in disbelief
at this wonderful luck.  Did she intend to suck off all three?
Quickly he moved the camcorder's tripod to give it the view.
Maximum telephoto, he soon saw, designed so that a bird's nest
would fill the view at that range, was more than adequate to
record the details of a human fuck-fest.  He started the
recorder, then moved the second tripod, the one supporting the
digital still camera, to look over the shoulder of the first.
Its special long-focus lens was likewise more than adequate.  The
girl's bobbing head filled its viewfinder.

Dan, president of the local bird watching club, of which his wife
was nevertheless the acknowledged leader, had set up his cameras
in this vantage point for the purpose of photographing the
Blue-Beaked Vireo, now adjudged extinct in this range.  One
nesting pair of the birds had apparently failed to get the word.
Dan, who was not above a spot of trespass in a good cause, such
as an inventory of the local wild birds, had spotted the nest
earlier while ranging through the Cameron estate next door to his
summer cottage.  He had returned today with his equipment.  The
nest was in a yaupon bush next to the dunes.  Dan had set up his
tripods in a loose stand of yaupon 50 yards above the skittish
Vireos where he could look down into the nest containing two or
three eggs.  He was unsure of the count because of the width of
the hen's body.  She had not departed the nest since his arrival.

Dan was 55, childless and so closely watched by a no-longer
interested wife that sexual opportunities aside from his fist
were out of the question.  He had compensated by developing a
large repertory of stimulants, mostly obtained via the Internet's
newgroups, to aid his fist-work.  Now in a single snap of fate's
fickle finger the Vireos had led him to _live_ fist-bait, as he
called it, while shifting themselves from first place in his mind
to far last.

At this point the yaupon grove formed a dark green peninsula of
foliage, following the similar peninsula of an old sand bar that
extended a few hundred yards into the ocean.  The sand bar was
topped with a pattern of dunes that formed a 10-yard hollow at
the foot of the yaupon projection.  Persons occupying that hollow
could not be seen from up or down the beach nor from the sea.
They need concern themselves only with airborne observers or
spies in the yaupon grove.

Dan thought about that aspect of his setup.  The beach faced
east, and it was now afternoon.  The licentious four below would
get no reflection from any of the lenses turned upon them.
Quietly he took twine from his kit and tied boughs of yaupon
closer together around the equipment, pausing occasionally to
trigger the still camera.  As he completed that task, he heard
another wind-born cheer.  A glance at a viewfinder showed the
girl backing away from Heavyset, her chin dripping cream, and
turning more to her left, partly away from the camera, as Slim,
having moved, presented himself from beside his sagging partner.
Oh, yes, she would suck off all three.

Where was Blondy?  Off to the left slightly and -- Christ!
Looking straight up into Dan's lenses.  Dan froze, but shortly
the man turned away.  The wind!  A stiff sea breeze was blowing,
twisting and tossing the multitude of wrinkled leaves.  Of course
Blondy noticed nothing unusual.  Dan sighed with relief, thanking
himself for his foresight in tying the yaupon leaves closer.

The third cheer was hardly a minute after the first.  Dan nodded
sagely.  Having watched the first two and handled the woman, Slim
was predictably quick-triggered.  Dan regretted only that he had
not anticipated it in time to make close-up zooms of the third
climax.  Still, the drip from her chin for the second one had
been very clear in the viewfinder.  He smiled in anticipation of
the use he might make of these scenes tonight.

He reached to stop recording but froze.  What was this?  Blondy
or someone had spread out a blanket.  For the girl?  She stepped
out of her bottoms, exposing well-trimmed pubes.  Quickly Dan
zoomed on her torso.  Her sunglasses now sported a white glob on
the left lens; Slim must have surprised her, too.  She was bent
forward, facing the camera, her intermediate-sized breasts
drooping most satisfactorily.  He could see between them past her
flat belly to the puckered labia outlined against brightly lit
sand behind her.  He unzoomed hurriedly as she flicked away, and
found her atop the blanket on her back, knees drawn up while
Blondy sank between them.  The man's buttocks began to bob
without hesitation.  Slowly her legs straightened.

He backed off further on the zoom.  The two dark-haired men were
sitting together to one side, watching the spectacle.  Their
mouths were moving in talk.

Suddenly Dan remembered the sound.  The cry of the Blue-Beaked
Vireo was most distinctive and a common proof of discovery.
Parabolic microphones were unusable most days at the beach,
however, because of the wind.  As the first part of his setup, he
had crept near the Vireo nest and installed a Nerf-ball-muffled
transmitting microphone just inside the bush line.

He plugged his earphones into the jack on the camcorder and heard
Heavyset's voice, as determined by the moving lips, say clearly,
"-- did you hear about her?"

The higher voice of Slim answered, "Galen told me."

"Who?"

"Him."  He pointed to Blondy.  "That's right, I didn't do
intros."  A sudden laugh.  "Kinda funny, getting sucked off
together without knowing each other.  I remember my uncle telling
about that kind of thing happening in Vietnam."

Though the leaves around him hummed and fluttered in the strong
wind, he heard no interference of that kind in the earphones, and
realized he was benefiting two ways from the sand formation.  The
dunes shielded the hollow from the wind and their three walls of
sand slightly focused sounds in the hollow toward his microphone.

Heavyset again: "Who is _she_?"

Slim shrugged.  "Don't know.  Galen said to meet him here.  He's
the one that picked her up, I guess."

"What do you think, she's maybe 18 or 19?"

"Who cares?  She's old _enough_!  What she is, pal, is a hot
chick.  And she knows what to do with a dick."

Heavyset nodded.  "Wa'n't half bad head."

"Huh!  Where'd you ever get better?"

The talk ceased for a while.  Blondy's hips plunged on
monotonously.  Dan tentatively changed that one's identification
in his mind to _Galen_.  Odd, classical name!  Not likely to be a
doctor, though.

Heavyset spoke again.  "You're right, that was really good head.
Do you suppose she charges for it?"

Slim chuckled.  "If she does, she'll have to put it on the tab."

"You got a tab?  How would she carry off the money?"

"Pockets in that terry-cloth jumper."

After a pause Slim added, "Galen didn't mention money."

Heavyset conjectured, "'Cause she didn't come out here for that.
You heard her.  She sucked us so we'd last on the second go.  She
came out here to fuck."

"Well, why not?  So did we."

Again the conversation flagged until Blondy's beat increased.

"Looks like Galen is about to shoot."  Slim rolled forward onto
his knees, closer to the now writhing couple.  He looked back.
"Ask him about her when you get the chance."

Dan heard a male groan, accompanied by soprano whimpers merging
into a soft scream.  Galen froze, muscles standing out on his
shoulders, then backed slowly away from the girl, who twisted
side to side, her head thrown back so that Dan could see only the
point of her upthrust chin.

Soon she grew quiet except for heaving breasts.  Her torso
gleamed with perspiration.  She drew up her knees, turning her
head to the waiting pair, and said in a distinct soprano, "Who's
next?"

"I am," said Slim with the high voice, rising to his feet.

"What's your name?"

"Jim."

"Okay, Jim."  She stretched up a hand.  "Give me a kiss."

"What's _your_ name?"

 From his hidden vantage Dan had zoomed on her.  Her eyes were
hidden behind the sunglasses but her lips formed a crooked grin.
She answered, "If you get me off, I'll tell you."

Jim responded with his high laugh, now bearing a touch of
uncertainty.

She grated, "Kiss me, damn you!  I swallowed all the come."

Jim looked back once, blushing, at his low-voiced friend but sank
beside her, faces together despite the sunglasses.  After a long
moment he craw-fished his lower body between her legs.  His hips,
like Galen's, began thrusting immediately.  The angle was a
little closer to Dan and the legs more separated.  Dan was able
to see the point of contact clearly.  The girl's labia were
redder and puffier than they had seemed earlier.  Again he looked
forward to a comparison in the sanctuary of his computer office
tonight.

This time the girl drew her knees up, crossing her lower legs
behind the man's thighs.  Galen took a turn around the hollow,
still with a partial erection.

The seated man asked when Galen approached, "Who _is_ she?"

Galen paused, his back to Dan.  "Who're _you_?"

"Pringle.  They call me Pring."

"I'm Galen.  She'll tell you who she is if she wants you to
know."

"Jim says you told him about her."

"Yeah."

"What's with her?  She likes dick?"

Galen paused before answering.  He said finally, "You ever heard
of a gift horse?"

"As, 'Don't look one in the mouth?'"

"Right."

"Okay."  Pring chuckled.  "But I don't guess they's any doubt
about it.  She likes dick."

Galen grunted.  He sat down beside the other and drew his knees
up as support for his elbows.  "Where are you from?"

"Upstate.  Jim and I got a room in a motel up the road."

"The Eight-Ball?"

"That's it."

"Anybody else staying with you?"

"Another couple of guys may show up tomorrow."

"If they do, bring them here, will you?"

"Huh?  What for?"

"She'll be back here at the same time.  Two o'clock."

"No kidding!  You mean ... two more to fuck her?"

"Maybe.  She blows them first.  If they're too slow to blow, or
she doesn't like their dicks, she won't have them."

"What if I can find more than two?"

"Bring them all."

"Jim'll come, too."

"That's fine."

"Is it?  How come she don't care about rubbers?"

Galen visibly shrugged.  "You can wear one to fuck her if you
want."

The conversation lapsed while the bodies oscillated before them.
Again the girl had relaxed her legs, though now her arms
encircled Jim's back.

After awhile Pring chuckled.  "Once they get here, how's she
gonna stop them fucking her if they feel like it anyway?"

"She won't stop them," Galen replied in a curiously soft voice.
"I will."

It was not a far-fetched claim, Dan saw, at least by appearances.
Galen's chest was twice the thickness of the other's despite his
heavier middle.

Pring's low voice showed surprise.  "She's not ...  She couldn't
be _your girl_!"

Galen barked a laugh and said harshly, "Do you think I'd let a
bunch of strangers fuck _my_ girl?"

Curiously it was the girl's soprano voice that answered him.
"You would if she told you to."

Dan saw Galen shake his head but hold his peace.

For another five minutes nothing occurred except the monotonous
pounding of hips on the blanket.  Then Jim ceased, raised up on
his extended arms and looked around at Galen.  "I ... I'm sorry.
I ain't gonna make it."

"It's still pretty hard," noted the girl.

"Yeah, but ... but ..."

"Okay, then, it's _my_ turn!" cried Pring, jumping to his feet.

Jim rolled away from her and eager Pring, pausing only to wet his
organ with spittle, replaced him.  Again the girl's knees came
up, her lower legs enclosing the man.  She whispered something to
him.  He answered, "That's right: Pring."

Jim came around them and sat beside Galen, who snickered.
"What's the matter?"

"She ... just lies there."

"I know it."  After a moment Galen added, "The funny thing is,
she still loves it."

"How can you tell?"

"Why else would she let you keep humping?  Believe me, when it
stops feeling good to her, we're out of here."

The girl's voice sounded from behind the man's shoulder.  "Pring,
bend your head to one side.  Jim, come here."  When he stood over
her, she added, "Put your feet under the blanket and dig them in,
then squat down behind my head."

When he had obeyed, she threw off the sunglasses, tilted her head
far back until her sharp chin was outlined against the man's
pubic hair.  Dan heard the sound of a distinct slurp.  Her jaws
worked for awhile.  Her hands left Pring and went to Jim's hips,
obviously urging him to piston her mouth.  Dan had to assume that
Jim had recovered his firmness.

Pring could see that contact and craned his neck the better to do
so.  Shortly his hips redoubled their plunging.  The girl's legs
enclosed him again.  Jim rose up on his knees, hands on his hips,
to deepen his own thrusts into the girl's mouth.  In fascination
Dan studied the rhythmic swellings in the girl's upturned throat,
unwilling to believe despite this evidence that she was taking
the shaft so deeply as it seemed.  His camcorder viewfinder was
tripod mounted and rock-steady.  He had no need to keep his eye
stable.  He reached up the leg of his shorts and caught his own
painful erection, gently fingering the head.

His earphones were reporting an odd snuffling sound that soon
added a soprano quality.  The girl's arms left Jim and enfolded
Pring's back, pulling him down tighter upon her.  Masculine
grunts, then groans, joined her.  Pring reached down and back to
clutch her buttocks cheeks.  He was driving into her relentlessly
now.

The girl's head began to twist side to side.  She spat Jim out
and squealed in harmony with Pring, who suddenly went rigid.  Her
body bucked beneath his.  Shortly he rolled off and flopped on
his back, panting.  The girl's hands flew to her vagina, working
the flesh as her body writhed.

Jim looked inquiringly at Galen, who nodded.  "Go for it."
Hurriedly the restored man crawled around her, opened her twisted
legs with his knees and fell upon her as before.  This time he
penetrated flesh that was far from passive.  As his partner had
done, he caught her buttocks cheeks and drove into her
powerfully.  She was mewling now with every breath.  Her arms
closed tighter, crushing their bodies together.  Her hips rolled
to match his thrusts while her legs alternately closed and opened
around his thighs.

Such intensity could not last, nor did it.  In less than a minute
Jim rolled off her to flop, panting, in the manner of his
partner.  She lay quietly now, breathing hard.  As her panting
eased, she raised her head and looked at Galen.  "Can you?"

For reply he opened his legs.  Dan could not see what he exposed.
She said, "I can get it up."

He responded, "You're reaching the point of little return for a
lot of work.  You'll wear yourself out.  Don't forget about
tonight."

She snarled, "Fuck tonight!"

"Tell me that an hour from now."

She ground her teeth but her face calmed.  She sighed.  "The
problem is that I _can't_ fuck tonight."

Dan studied her face, zooming to fill the viewfinder.  It was a
pretty one, heart-shaped, full lips pouting in disappointment.
She was brown-eyed to match her dark hair.  A dark mole, probably
real to survive this, adorned her face on the right cheekbone.
Her skin was otherwise fair.  He could detect no makeup.

Galen raised up, found the halves of her bikini and passed them
to her.  He addressed Pring beyond her.  "You'll remember what I
said about tomorrow?"

The man nodded.  "I'll be here with a couple more."

"You hear that?" said Galen to the girl.  "He means a couple more
guys.  Think about tomorrow."

All four set about brushing off sand and slipping on their
trifles of clothing.

"You gonna tell us your name?" asked low-voice Pring.

Her back was to the camera, but Dan could see her cheek tighten
and knew that she had smiled.  "You did well," she judged.  "I'm
Gracie."

Both repeated it in unison.  "Gracie."

"What did your mothers teach you to say at a time like this?"

They looked blankly at each other, then the same idea occurred to
both.  They exclaimed simultaneously, "Thank you, Gracie!"

"Good boys!  Come on," she suggested, grabbing Galen's hand.
"Let's go rinse off in the surf."



* * *



His wife having retired to the bedroom with a slushy novel, Dan
locked the door of his office behind him and fired up his
computer.

First he uploaded the digital camera's flash RAM.  He had not
made as many of the high-resolution stills as he wanted; the
initial action in the hollow had proceeded too swiftly, but his
top "dick-stiffener," a profile of Gracie with thick seminal
globs on her chin and a streaky glans penis arriving from the
right to touch her protruding lip, was one of the best "facials"
he had ever seen.  Appearing edge-on, the sunglasses did not
disguise her at all beyond the dark shadow around the eyes.  The
mole on her right cheek was prominent and clear.

She was unidentifiable in the several missionary views, though
the close-ups of penis in vagina were of superior quality, in his
opinion.  He had taken one still, zoomed close, as she leaned
back on extended arms at the end of the outing, that could have
served as a police mug-shot, except that she was smiling
slightly, a Mona Lisa smile of satisfaction -- despite her
protests otherwise at the time.

Dared he post these shots on Usenet?  He selected five that
begged to be released, none showing a man's face, four with a
recognizable Gracie.  Studying them, he decided that any of the
four principals could determine approximately where the camera
had been located, but they were all young people with the
possible exception of blond Galen, all apparently on vacation at
the beach.  If they should download these pictures, surely it
would happen well distant in time and space from the current
dissolute week!

For a long time he simply stared at the image of the girl's bare
face.  It seemed faintly familiar.  Finally he shrugged,
recalling none of his few relatives that matched it in any
significant feature.  Whimsically he touched it with his
photopaint program, adding a duplicate mole on the left cheek but
finally removing both.  He likewise removed the mole in the
fellatio profile.  On the Internet he uploaded the five to his
anonymous offshore shell account and prepared a short blurb for
each, describing _Gracie's Lark in the Dunes_.  He paused, one
keystroke away from broadcast to the net.  Of course, he had no
reason to be precipitous.  It wouldn't matter if he waited a
month and checked around for --  Bah!  With a savage blow he
punched the Enter key.  One after another the pictures went out,
a flicker for each on his ten megabit cable.

When he began to copy the tape in the camcorder, he again applied
the earphones.  He spent a mesmerizing 52 minutes, according to
the elapsed-time indicator, watching, listening and carefully
synchronizing his expression of appreciation.  Not the least part
of his satisfaction was the knowledge that he alone of all the
world's voyeurs had access to the full scenes!  He hid the copy
in his secret hollowed-out wall-panel, went to bed beside his
snoring wife and slept the sleep of the just and satisfied.



* * *



He was in position by one o'clock the following afternoon,
another beautiful sunny day.  He had fetched a second camcorder
that he positioned in a yaupon projection off to one side of the
farthest extended bushes, carefully tying branches to cover it
but not obscure the lens.

Back in his high perch he began to peer north through the bushes
in earnest as two o'clock approached.  Soon he saw the first
distant figures descend upon the strand and turn toward him.
Quickly he scurried down to his second camera, keeping low, and
turned it on, ignoring the screams of the male Vireo hovering
above him.  Having returned to his stand, he watched the young
people approach in two groups about a hundred yards apart.  The
girl walked with two men in the first group, wearing the white
terry-cloth jumper open in the front to expose a pink bikini
today.  As they drew near Dan recognized Galen and Jim.  The
second group consisted of six men.  Presumably it contained
Pring, though the binoculars were not good enough at this range
to be certain.

Eight men, one girl!  Dan felt a fluttering of excitement in his
chest and bit his lip.  Anything might happen!

The first three sat atop a dune and waited for the others to
arrive before dropping into the hollow.  They gathered in a
circle around the girl who looked from one to the other.  At
first Dan thought he had a problem with his sound equipment until
the girl said clearly, "I want to see all the cocks."

One of the men responded, "Show us yours and we'll show you
ours."

That drew a laugh.  When no one moved otherwise, Galen spoke, his
voice recognized from yesterday, "Better take the duds off,
brothers, if you want to fuck."

Several men bent to obey.  Shortly the dune sides were decorated
with men's beach attire, though two men stood unmoving with hands
on hips, still wearing ragged shorts and T-shirts.  Dan noticed
that Galen also remained clothed.

Gracie threw off only her jumper.  She approached a man and bent
forward.  His back was turned to Dan, obscuring her actions.
Presumably this was a stranger because Jim and Pring stood to one
side among the naked group.

She did not linger today as she had yesterday.  At the second man
Dan saw that she was content mostly with a manual examination of
her objective.  She introduced it between her lips only briefly
before moving to the third man.

"You call this fucking?" asked one of the clothed pair, looking
at Pring.

Galen responded for him.  "What's your rush?"

"Who're you?" the stranger demanded.

"He's Galen," said Pring.  "Galen, this is Bud."

Galen and the stranger nodded at each other.

The girl smiled at Jim and Pring but bypassed them in the
examinations.  Shortly she stood before Bud.  "If you want to
fuck, show me what you've got."

"Show me yours," said Bud, "and I'll show you mine."  At the
repetition Dan recognized that it was Bud who had originally
lodged this demand.

The girl sniffed.  "Tell him, Galen."  She turned away to Bud's
partner in cloth.  "What about you?  Don't you want to fuck
either?"

But Bud's hand clutched her bare shoulder.  "I said, 'Show me
yours,' slut."

Galen was standing beside her.  In an instant he slammed the
man's arm up.  Bud staggered back a step, eyes wide.  Galen
declared gruffly, "You play it her way, pal, or you don't play."

The two men glared at each other within arms length.  Galen was
half a head taller and better muscled.  "What's it to you?" Bud
demanded, his mouth twisting.  "You her pimp?"

Despite the angle, Dan could see the corner of Galen's lip
tighten in a smile.  He answered calmly, "I'm her bodyguard."

"Her _what_?" Bud repeated incredulously.

"You heard me."

"Some _body_guard!  You gonna let all these pricks fuck her?"

"If she wants them."

Gracie stared from one to the other, Bud's finger traces
reddening on her shoulder.  The clothed partner sidled closer to
Bud.  "We can take him," he judged softly.

"Huh!" Galen snorted.  "You can try, if you're that foolish.  But
let me ask you, did you come here to fight or to fuck?"

"Either one is fun," said the man with a glaring grin that
exposed his fangs, face-on in the viewfinder.  Dan stared in
horrified fascination.

Galen stepped in front of the girl.  From that position he
advised softly, "Make up your mind."

The man stepped back, hand plunging into a pocket of his shorts.
It reappeared grasping something.  A wickedly gleaming silvery
blade snapped out.  Immediately the wielder lunged forward, his
arm slashing across Galen.

But someone had trained the blond man's reflexes.  In the same
second he ducked low and turned his back.  His bent leg
straightened powerfully upward, driving a callused heel into the
attacker's face.  Lifted almost off his feet, the man flew
backward onto the sand.  The switchblade sailed out of his hand
to bury its point in the nearby dune wall.

Bud stood watching with wide eyes.  Galen whirled to him and
asked softly, "You want a piece of this?"

Bud raised both hands, palms out.  "Not me.  I want a piece
of _her_!"

Galen's voice grew even softer.  "Then apologize for what you
called her."

"I'm so-"

The girl interrupted.  "I _am_ a slut, Galen."

The blond man turned to look at her.  He sighed.  "And a few red
marks more or less don't mean much, do they?"

"No.  Long as they're not like _his_ red marks."

Everyone looked at the fallen man, now sitting up, hands pressed
to his face, copious blood staining his T-shirt.

Galen turned back to Bud.  "Take your pal down to the surf and
wash him off.  Then if you want to play, come on back."  He
sniffed.  "I guarantee you they won't wear her out."

"Okay."  Bud helped his friend to stand, throwing the man's arm
over his shoulder.  As they marched up the dune face, he said
over his shoulder, looking at Gracie, "You'll like what I got for
you, honey."

She sniffed and turned away.  In a few deft moves she had removed
her bikini.  The naked men stared.  She sank to her knees in
front of Jim.  Quickly Dan zoomed on her profile as the flabby
manhood disappeared.  Her mouth worked for most of a minute.
Today she wore no sunglasses; he could see her peering up to
Jim's face inquiringly.  At last she backed away, exposing a
respectable erection.

She said in wonder, "I didn't think it was going to rise!"

"Fights put me off," Jim explained.

"Not me," she retorted grinning at him and around at the others.
"Blood is hot stuff to a pussy."

That brought a chuckle, though not an enthusiastic one.

Galen had spread the blanket.  She caught Jim's hand and pulled
him down upon her.  Again his hips began at almost full thrust.
Apparently, Dan thought, the girl was right about the stimulation
of blood, at least for her.

So the program was different today!  She took no other organ
orally and took no ejaculate by mouth.  Each of the five
available men -- Galen remained clothed and aloof -- climaxed
within a minute or two.  When Jim applied for his second turn,
she was sweating and panting.  He endured well.  Unlike yesterday
her body became animated under his.  She began to moan and
whimper, occasionally rising to soft screams.  Pring spelled Jim
and her response remained high, recovering as the third man
replaced Pring and again as the fourth began his second turn.

Pring and Galen stood together near the foot of the hollow.
Otherwise Dan could not have understood them over the girl's
noise.  Pring asked, "Will she be all right?"

Galen grunted.  "Aren't you a bit late worrying?"

"But ... how can she keep it up?  Look how red that pussy is!
Don't it get bruised?"

"A bruised pussy?  Ha!  You want my opinion?  A pussy is meant to
be pounded.  Not much a dick can do to harm it once it's
breached.  And when Gracie gets wound up like this, she's hard to
stop."

"But ... ain't it a little strange?"

Galen warmed to his subject.  "What's strange to me is that women
aren't proud of their sexual capacity.  I bet there was a time a
woman in the mood would welcome every man in the tribe.  The old
records speak of women taking on hundreds of men, one right after
the other, while the wine flowed during festivals of the gods.
Hell, I've seen police reports of it in American cities, usually
some high-school girl who finds out what that hole is good for
and right away gets every man and boy in her neighborhood to
stuff it.  Gracie's far from alone in this.  Women must be
designed for it, even if most of them won't let themselves go
that far.  If it wasn't designed-in, none of them could enjoy it
so much."

Pring was regarding the blond man speculatively.  "You a college
boy?"

"Was.  Anthropology."

"Huh.  Ain't they the people that go around digging in holes?"

Galen answered dryly, "Just now I'm tending only to the one."

During the fifth man's second turn, Bud returned alone.  He slid
down the dune face and immediately stripped off shirt and shorts.

Galen blocked his path toward the girl.  "Where's your pal who
believes a knife makes him top dog?"

Bud shook his head.  "Gone to Urgent Care.  He thinks his nose is
broke."

"Did you help him to the highway?"

"Yeah.  A cop came by, gave him a ride."

"A cop?  What did you tell him?"

Bud grinned.  "A freak accident.  He stumbled on the pavement."

Galen thought about it.  "My heel felt something crack."

"That was his front tooth.  Uh, you think she'll have me?"

"Yeah, I think so, if you get it up before that one finishes.
You're next."

Watching the sweating couple on the blanket, Bud stroked himself.
Dan zoomed on the remarkable result, murmuring, "Jesus Christ!"
under his breath.  Bud's equipment was easily the largest that
Dan had seen in this hollow -- or anywhere else other than the
porno newsgroups.

The girl commented on it when Number Five backed tiredly off her
at last.  Her curves glittering with sweat, she sat up enough to
take it in hand and skin it back.  "Bud, are you a man or a
horse?"

"I'm just what you need," he answered smugly, sinking upon her.
Her moans and whimpers soon reappeared, though to Dan's ear she
sounded no more enthusiastic than with organs half that size.

After Bud only one man of the original five essayed a third
attempt.  Though unsuccessful despite the girl's continuing
enjoyment, he lasted long enough for Bud to recover.  Doubtlessly
aware that he was her last for the afternoon, the girl abandoned
herself completely to Bud's second pass.  When he finally rose
from her, breathing in great gasps, his back sported bloody
scratches.  She lay still except for a heaving chest, arms and
legs splayed wide.  Her torso was drenched in sweat, her groin in
seminal fluid.  Her body exhibited a general flush despite the
tan.

All looked at Galen to see if he would take up the common task.
He returned their stares with hands on hips.  "I don't see a hard
dick among the lot of you.  The show's over, gentlemen."

No one objected.  Clothing was reassumed with markedly less vigor
than it had been divested.  Galen brought the halves of the
bikini to the girl, half-lifted her to her feet and helped her
into the wisps of clothing.  Her head hung, the ponytail falling
sideways.  She seemed completely exhausted.  Her arm over his
shoulder for support, she climbed the dune beside him toward the
surf.



* * *



"Are you ready to show me your Vireo pictures yet?" asked his
wife at supper.

"No," he admitted, assuming an air of heavy disappointment.  "I
still have none better than the few I got yesterday.  Something
keeps disturbing the birds.  But I'll keep trying."

"Good.  Try to get their call, too.  This will make my reputation
all the way to the Audubon Club, you know."

"Yes, I know."

Though he had hours of video tape to compare and exult in, he had
no still shot that compared to the "facial" profile of yesterday.
Studying it again, he decided that it truly was an extraordinary
picture.  The messy but pretty profile exhibited just enough
annoyance to suggest an unanticipated component in the timing or
quantity.  Negative touches of personality in fellatrices were
rarely photographed.  Suddenly he realized it needed only one
improvement to represent the ideal blow-job conclusion.  Clicking
it into his paint program and using the same color as the line
sagging from her chin, he added a spurt of seminal fluid into the
open mouth from the tip of the penis resting on the lower lip,
obviously spraying deep into her throat.  Highly pleased with the
result, he printed a copy on quality paper.  In this one he did
not obscure the beauty mark on the visible right cheek.

The light shown from under his office door late that night.
Seeing it as she rose to relieve her bladder, his wife sniffed
and said under her breath, "Better his fist than me!"  She was
soon asleep again, dreaming the dreams of the just and satisfied.





* * *





The next morning dawned drearily to a light rain.  By early
afternoon the clouds had departed at last and Dan hurried to his
stand among the yaupons.  He waited until the sun was half-way
down the sky, but no young people appeared.  He did finally
capture an excellent sequence of the Vireo family, including many
examples of their calls.

By five o'clock he had conceded and arrived back home to find a
provoked wife.  "You're such a mess!  Did you forget?  We're
having dinner at the Camerons.  Hurry and clean yourself up.
I've laid out your brown striped suit to match my dress.  What
_is_ that on your knee, bird droppings?"



* * *



35 years ago Dan and John Cameron had been roommates in college,
both pursuing MBAs.  Even then John was the smooth investor, the
risk taker, and Dan was the detail man, doing John's term papers
and juggling his appointments with stock promoters, gamblers and
girls.  Though as unlike each other in every respect as two men
might be, they had become closer than most brothers, perhaps for
that reason.  Now John was CEO and Dan was CFO of the same
Fortune-1000 company, aggressively pursuing a listing in the
Fortune-500.

John had married several times.  His current wife of three years
was 20 years younger.  Nevertheless she and Dan's wife remained
on friendly terms despite the older woman's frequent criticism.

Of course Dan was intimately familiar with John's interests and
tastes.  Today, abandoning the wives to their own devices while
waiting for the servants to announce dinner, the two men enjoyed
cocktails in the evening breeze on John's balcony built flimsily
over the surf.  Every hurricane that passed destroyed it, but
John cheerily replaced it, remarking, "It's only money."  The
house itself was steel-framed concrete, set on pilings anchored
in bedrock and permanently staffed with a housekeeper charged
with closing the shutters in case of hazard.  So far it had
survived six major storms, losing only its balcony to each.

"What's the briefcase for?" John asked genially.  "Don't tell me
you found another loophole in the Atkins contract!"

Dan grinned.  "No, these are documents I downloaded this week.  I
thought you might appreciate them.  One is truly extraordinary."

The chief grinned.  "Documenting the old in-and-out, I'll bet!"

Dan chuckled.  "You were always a great bettor."  Opening the
briefcase in his lap, he removed the top one, the fellatrix in
profile, and passed it across to his friend.

John's eyes popped.  "Wow!  Extraordinary is the world, all
right!  You know, I could swear -"  His expression changed to a
poker face.  "Got any more of her?"

Wordlessly Dan passed across the other four prints, comprising
along with the first the five images he had published.  Shrugging
mentally, he realized belatedly that the printout of the
fellatrix differed from the published image in two significant
respects.

John leafed through them, studying all four closely.  He turned
the close-up of penis in vagina so that Dan could see it.  "You
think this is the same girl?"

"It was in the same series.  And check out that dimple in her
thigh.  It shows in another shot, too."

John leafed through them again, looking up at last with a
penetrating expression.  "Why did you show me these, Dan?"

"Huh?"  Dan blinked.  Suddenly he grinned.  "Don't tell me you're
jealous!  This facial beats hell out of the series you showed me
last week, doesn't it!"

"Oh, yeah," John agreed with odd vehemence.  "It beats it, all
right!  You say you downloaded them?  Which newsgroup?"

"Alt.binaries.pictures.erotic.amateur."

"I haven't checked that one in a couple days."  He sprang to his
feet.  "Come on.  Show me."

Dan chuckled slightly, rising also.  "You think it's that good,
do you?"

"Oh, yeah, it's star quality."  The man's voice was heavy with
sarcasm.

But as they entered the house through the sliding-glass doors off
the dining room, the maid, standing in the kitchen door,
announced, "Dinner is served."

John casually laid the prints, face down, on a sideboard.  "We'll
discuss this after dinner.  And I think you're in for a shock."

The women entered and took seats.  Dan sat on John's right, as he
had at many other meetings, his wife across from him.  John's
wife lowered herself gracefully into the chair at the opposite
end from her husband.  To Dan's right a third woman took her seat
concurrently with the others.  He was turning to her when John
said, "Dan, I don't believe you've met my wife's younger sister,
visiting us for the month.  Dan Pruit, this is Angela Pelham.
Angela, Dan."

Dan took in her slim figure before his eyes rose to her smiling
face.  He stared helplessly, chin sagging.  This was _Gracie_,
heart-shaped face, beauty mark on right cheek, dark curly hair
now down to the shoulders, even a faint sunglass pallor around
the brown eyes compared to the tan on the rest of her face.  She
was wearing subdued red lipstick and a white evening dress.  He
froze, unable to respond.

Not the girl.  She laughed in pleasure, Gracie's soprano giggle.
"Come now, Dan!  Do you really think I'm so attractive?  John,
you have the nicest friends."

  John was grinning.  "I said you were in for a shock.  Angela is
almost as pretty as her sister."

"Yes!  Ah, yes!" Dan stuttered, shaking his head.  "I am, uh,
_very_ pleased to meet you, Angela!"

The girl was still grinning.  "Your mouth says yes but your head
says no."

Dan's wife declared caustically, "I'm afraid my husband has
reached _that_ age."

"All men are of that age," responded the girl, smiling at the
older woman.

"Fortunately for us," John's wife inserted from her end of the
table.  "Do taste my new Chardonnet, Melissa.  Even John admires
it, but I told him you have the best palate among us."

Thereafter the conversation dwelt mainly upon the quality of
various wines, a subject about which Dan maintained a steadfast
ignorance, though the girl upheld her end of it adequately.  As
he ate, he stole sidelong glances at her, noting her vitality and
sparkle, watching as she inserted prime beefsteak between lips
that had recently passed so much meat of a very different kind.
She buttered her bread gracefully and neatly.  Her nails were
manicured and of moderate length, but easily adequate to draw
blood from Bud's back.  Dan was consumed with comparing the
reality to his memories and hardly tasted the food.  His manhood
rose, an event he could not recall ever occurring during a meal.
Once he looked up to find John watching him, a knowing twinkle in
his eyes.

At the end of the meal the two older women asked to be excused
for the usual reason.  Angela remained, however, and regarded
John quizzically when she was alone with the two men.

"What's about to happen, John?"

He chuckled.  "You think something will happen?"

"Perhaps you'll grant that I know something about the male
animal.  You're expecting something to happen and your friend
here thinks it has already."  As she concluded, she placed her
hand upon Dan's as if to disarm any possible censure.

John cocked his head, eyes hooded.  "Take a look at the pictures
on that table."

"Pictures?  Of me?"

"I think so."

She got to her feet and retrieved the prints.  Leaning against
the sideboard, her eyebrows rose.  "Wow, would you look at that!
Pretty arty shot, wouldn't you say?  That one looks familiar."
Quickly she paged through the others.  Her eyes rose to Dan.
"Did you take these?"

Dan opened his mouth to lie but John saved him by declaring, "He
downloaded them off the Internet."

The girl sniffed, looking at John.  "You're a fool if you pay him
anything."

"Dan blackmailing anyone?  Don't be ridiculous!  But let me ask
you, my dear: don't you think this is carrying indiscretion a bit
far?"

Her eyes narrowed.  She took a breath.  "This is hardly the place
to discuss it."

"We agree there," retorted John.  "Take them up to my office.
Dan and I'll be along soon as we can beg off from our wives."



* * *



They found the young woman waiting for them in John's office,
which was located upstairs in a back corner room.  It was full of
books and a computer with a very large monitor.  John went
straight to the computer and powered it up.

While the machine was booting, Angela laid the prints face-up on
the large desk and pointed to the topmost.  It was an unzoomed
shot of two men standing to one side of a coupled pair on a red
plaid blanket.  The woman's legs were wrapped around her lover's
hips.  No face was visible.  "That blanket," she noted, "and the
sandy background ...  These pictures were taken day before
yesterday less than a half mile from here, John."

John shook his head.  "How can you be sure of that, Angela?  How
many years have you been pulling these tricks?"

"Look at the pattern in that blanket.  It came from your linen
closet."

"Which the servants stocked with generic bedclothes when I moved
in here.  The world is full of blankets like that."

"But, John, as a matter of fact, I was with three men in the
dunes on your property two days ago.  They looked exactly like
these three."

He shook his head at her.  "Well, thanks for the confession.  But
two days?  How many other times have you gone to the beach with
three men?"

She sniffed and looked away.

It occurred to Dan that standing silent and gaping stupidly was
not likely to divert suspicion from himself.  He found it easy to
feign incredulousness.  "I can't believe that John's sister-in-
law can be the girl in this picture!"

To his surprise she leered at him in response.  "You see this?"
she asked, pointing to her right cheek.

"But ... but ..."

"But I'm too nice a girl for anything like that?" she asked,
still grinning.

"You're too bright and pretty and ... well, you're John's
relative."

"Also she inherited a ton of money," John announced, eyes
twinkling at both of them.

She sidled against John.  Her hand slipped around his hip and
cupped the contents of his britches' front, but her eyes remained
locked with Dan's.  "You think John wouldn't help me with
something like that?" she asked, grinning widely.

John snorted.  "He knows me better than that, honey.  He was
pacifying my exes long before you were an itch in your mother's
crack."

"Ooh!" she exclaimed, closing her hand.  "What a metaphor!"

He removed her arm and turned to the computer keyboard.  "I want
to know how old those files are."  A few clicks and keystrokes
soon brought up the article list for the desired newsgroup.

Dan stepped closer, pointing.  "There they are, _Gracie's Lark in
the Dunes, glark01.jpg_ through five."

"Gracie," John mused thoughtfully.

"That tears it," proclaimed the girl.  "I only told those two
guys I was Gracie day before yesterday."

John downloaded the first file, which arrived almost instantly on
the cable connection.  Double-clicking its icon filled the large
screen with the same picture of the fellatrix -- less her beauty
mark and the squirt of fresh semen.  All three stared.

"Now that's interesting," the girl declared.  She held up the
print before the men, pointing out the two differences.  "How do
you account for this?" she asked.

John looked at Dan, his brow wrinkled.  He said hesitantly,
"Could the ... original poster have cancelled the one you
printed, Dan, and sent another?  Wait a minute."  He tapped a few
keys.  "Let me get the headers back ...  No, here's the posting
date: night before last."  Quickly he downloaded the headers for
the other files.  They had all been posted in the same minute.

"Now _that_ is peculiar!" John stated emphatically.

"Who posted them?" asked the girl.

"_analflit at scrutile dot T O_.  Not much help."

"There's a repeat," said the girl, pointing lower on the screen.

Its header proclaimed that Bigdogjohnson at ptu.net had posted it
four hours after the timestamp on the originals.  When
downloaded, it proved to be the same picture of terminal
fellatio, except that now the penis was noticeably thicker.

"They like it," said the girl smugly.

"One of your three gentlemen must have had a camera," said John,
chin in hand, "and a pretty good one, too.  That's high quality
work."

"Huh!  They weren't wearing enough to hide a camera!"

"Who else, then?"

She shrugged.  "_I_ don't know.  But from the angle ...  That
happened in a hollow in the dunes.  A lot of bushes grow at one
end of it.  The cameraman must have been hiding in those bushes."

"Not close by," John suggested.  "Look at the background in this
facial.  Everything is totally out of focus.  That was made with
long telephoto.  Have you attracted the paparazzi again?"

"I didn't think so.  Can you get back the original view?"

When John had recalled it, the girl took up the matching print,
her eyes flicking back and forth from it to the monitor.  "Look
at this.  My beauty mark is in the print-out but missing on the
screen.  Yet all those copies are later than the original."

"Well, they'd have to be, wouldn't they?" John asked.

"What I mean is, Dan's print, which must have been from a later
copy, has the beauty mark."  She looked searchingly at Dan.  "How
would anyone know to put it there?"

"Let me see," John demanded, snatching the print.  His eyes
flicked back and forth from it to the girl.  "Your mark is really
a mole, isn't it?"

"Yes, a pink one.  I put mascara on it to darken it."

"But it has an irregular shape, kind of flat on the front.  And
it does in this print, too."  He turned also to regard Dan.  "How
would anyone know to make it exactly right?"

Stricken, Dan looked from one to the other.  He took a deep
breath.  "John, do you recall the Jaysmith affair?"

"Yeah."

"What's that?" asked the girl.

John explained, "Arnold Jaysmith was an employee who stole trade
secrets from us.  We caught him accidentally with cameras set up
to find a timing defect in the assembly line.  What are you
getting at, Dan?"

Dan took a very deep breath.  "I want you to know, John, and to
believe me because it's the absolute truth, that I had no idea
she was associated with you in any way."

"Ha!  I see.  It was your bird-watching, eh?"

"I figured you wouldn't mind a little trespass.  It's the
Blue-Beaked Vireo they said was extinct --"

But John wasn't listening.  He was frowning at the girl.  "What
happened to that guy you hired to worry about stuff like this?"

"Galen?  He's around.  He drove me over here and he'll pick me up
when I call."  She sniffed.  "I'll raise a little hell with him
about this."

"I think you ought to replace him," John grated.

"You do?"

Dan spoke up at last.  "No, she shouldn't."

John demanded, "Why not?  He didn't even protect her from _you_!"

Dan smiled.  "I was in a blind, trying to photograph skittish
birds.  Of course he didn't see me.  But yesterday he saved her
pretty butt from a knife-wielder."

"He did _what_?"

"I've got the whole thing on video tape, John.  I'll get you a
copy tomorrow."

"You _what_?"

But the girl was regarding Dan thoughtfully.  "You were out there
yesterday, too?"

"With two video cameras, a still camera and a microphone not ten
yards from your blanket.  I've got the whole thing in the can."

Her eyes flashed.  "What are you planning to do with it, post it
on the Internet?"

"No.  I posted those five, I guess, because they're damn good and
the only such luck I ever had.  But I didn't know it had anything
to do with John.  What I mean to do now is give John a copy of it
all, if he wants it, and put the rest in my secret stash."

She chuckled.  "Your what?  How about giving me a copy, too."

"Why not?  You're the star."  He studied her.  "You mean you're
_proud_ of it?"

She sniffed.  "As you say, why not?  I might want to become a
porn star, too."

He shook his head.

She laughed outright.  "You don't approve of me, Dan?"  She
pushed her hip against his.  Her arm snaked around him and cupped
his testicles shockingly through his suit pants.  "Then why did
you bother to make all that tape of me?"

John interrupted.  "I'm interested in what happened yesterday."

She grinned at him.  "I fucked half a dozen guys, John, and Dan
says he caught it all."

"Good god, Angela!"  Now John was shaking his head.

Dan sniffed.  "John, this is obviously no surprise to you."

"On my property it is!  Off it I don't have any control of her,
but --"

"Huh!" she snorted.  "You fucked me, John, on your property,
right there on that desk, not a week after you married my
sister."

John looked pained.  "Will you shut up?"

"First you sent me to lock the door."  She scampered across the
room and pressed the lock button on the doorknob.  "Like this."

She returned quickly to stand before Dan.  "Then you took your
pants down."  Her deft hands unbuckled belt and front flap and
unzipped his fly.  She would have lowered his pants but they fell
to his ankles before she could grasp them.

Dan stared as she snatched his jockey shorts down also.  "Don't
you have the wrong man?" he asked.

She laughed gaily.  "Me and the Mounties, we always get the right
man."  Her hand sought his manhood.  "Needs work," she noted.
"Come on."

He looked around at the door.  "How secure is that lock?"

"Don't worry," answered John.  "Doris will keep Melissa
diverted."

Dan observed dryly, "I'm not exactly accustomed to this anymore,
John."

"Yeah, you need help.  Angela, brace him while he steps out of
his britches, before he trips himself up."

She knelt before him, slipping the clothing away, as he lifted
his feet.  She looked up and grinned at the first signs of his
undeniable interest in the proceedings.  She rose on her knees
and slurped him into her mouth.

He looked helplessly at the other man.  "What _is_ going on here,
John?"

Leaning against the desk, John chuckled.  "I know for a fact it's
not your first blow-job, Dan, so I assume your question is more
_why_ than _what_, right?  I'm sure she'll be glad to tell you
all about it -- she's fascinated by her own development.  Richard
Pelham, their grandfather, had some unorthodox ideas about
raising children.  When his son crashed the plane with his wife
and himself, Pelham took the girls to raise.  He made them act
out devised scenarios, using hypnotism.  He was the despoiler of
their virginities.  Curiously the effect on the older was to make
her completely submissive in all respects to the wishes of her
mate, while this one became sexually insatiable.  Angela might
have ended up a duplicate of Doris, but Pelham died when she was
16, her training apparently incomplete.  He kept notes on his
treatment of them, some of which I've seen.  He believed that the
sex drive in humans, as in all other animals, is a
psychologically pure compulsion, unrecognized as such only
because of its ubiquitous banality.  His purpose was to liberate
the girls from the inhibitions on sexual behavior imposed by
conventional morality.  In that he certainly succeeded!"

"But isn't Angela a teenager?"

John nodded with evident admiration.  "She looks like one,
doesn't she?  But she's been practicing her incomplete
indoctrination now for nearly ten years.  Who knows?  Frequent
fucking may actually preserve a girl's looks."

"He, ah, trained your wife, too?"

"Yes, though would you believe, Doris is the most loyal of all my
wives!  Her excesses appear only in her service to me."  He
smiled smugly.  "Which I find delightful."

"I guess so!" Dan admitted fervently.  "Angela," he said to the
bobbing head below, "I'm not a young man, you know."

She released a glistening organ and got to her feet licking her
lips.  With a sniff she remarked, "Now maybe I can join in this
fascinating conversation about me."

But talk was not her intent.  She raised the white skirt and slip
to her waist as she backed against the desk.  She laid herself
backwards on it, kicked off her white pumps and raised her knees,
bare heels braced on the edge.  She was wearing no underpants.

"Come on, Dan," she entreated with a twinkle.  "Age has its own
advantages."

He shrugged out of his suit coat and lifted his white shirttails
before pressing forward to contact her.  He noted dryly, "I can't
think of any in this game."

"Put it in and you'll see," she advised.

He found her ready.  Her body was a little high off the floor for
best effect.  She remedied that by letting her legs fall to
enwrap his and raising her torso with arms around his neck while
her weight remained on buttocks overlapping the edge of the desk.
"That's better," she breathed.  "Now do me deep, Dan."

She managed to roll her hips, compressing him in agreement with
the rhythm he set.  Soon she was hugging him fiercely with all
four limbs.  She pressed her open mouth to his and invited his
tongue.  Her breath came faster in flared nostrils.  She began to
whimper.

Dan felt the old tightness in his chest and thought of pulling
out of her.  But pleasure rising to a height not felt in years
washed the thought away.  When she emitted the first soft scream,
his climax began with a powerful spurt that was intolerably
sweet.



* * *



He came to himself and shook his head as if to dislodge a fly.
Looking around, he saw that he was lying on the hardwood floor in
John's office.  The back of his head hurt and was tender to the
touch.  The girl, Angela, was sitting beside him, a wet cloth in
her hand, while John knelt on the other side.

She patted his cheek with the cloth.  "How do you feel?"

"I ...  Did I hit my head?"

"Not too bad," John answered.  "Angela caught you on the way
down.  She's not a teenager but she still has good reflexes."

She sniffed.  "When a man pulls out in the middle, it gets your
attention."

"I suppose so," John agreed with a grin.  "No need to ask 'middle
of what,' is there?"

"We were coming."  She put a hand under her skirt and smugly
contemplated the result when she brought it out.  "Both of us."

"What happened, Dan?"

Dan felt a sudden chill.  He had never revealed his dangerously
low blood pressure to anyone.  He raised up on an elbow.  How to
minimize John's suspicion?  He smiled weakly.  "I guess I'm
getting too old for stand-up fucks.  But, god, it was sweet!"
His hand rose to pat the girl's cheek.

"You passed out?" asked John, studying him intently.

Dan shrugged.  "Not much point in denying it."

"How do you feel now?"

"I'll do."  He grinned at the girl.  "Can I take a rain-check -
in a bedroom?"

"Anytime, Dan," she answered, eyes resting upon him fondly.

"Let me help you up."  John took him under the arm and raised him
to his feet despite his protests.  The girl brought him his
clothing and helped him into it.  Together they pushed him gently
into the nearby reclining chair.

"We have a little unfinished business," John explained, hand
under the grinning girl's skirt.  She sat on the desk as he
removed his britches.  Leaning into her, he added over his
shoulder, "And I believe this is a first: sloppy seconds after
Dan."



* * *



At the girl's request Dan strolled out onto the portico with
Angela -- despite his wife's glower -- to wait for Galen's car.  A
full moon was well risen.  Crickets were loud enough almost to
drown the thud of the surf.

"You turned white," she remarked.  "Is it your heart?"

He answered carefully after a forced chuckle.  "I have a kind of
anemia that prevents me from overstressing.  It only recently
developed and it's not dangerous.  In fact it may let me live
longer than average."

"I hope so!  Dan, were you serious about giving me a copy of what
you taped yesterday?"

"Yes, of course.  I'll bring it with John's copy.  Or mail it to
any address you indicate."  He chuckled more genuinely.  "I could
almost believe you were proud of those pictures."

"I'll pick them up here."  She studied him in the moonlight.
"You think I should be ashamed of them?"

"_Should_ be?  For most women they would cause a meltdown."

Her soprano giggle shivered the night air.  "The perfect word!
That's how it feels between my legs."

"You're saying they excite you?"

"Not _them_!  But I can feel how they affect men.  _That_ excites
me!"

"I ... see."

"Oh, Dan!"  Again she giggled.  "If you could hear your tone of
voice!  Red Dick was so right about men."

"Red Dick?"

"My grandfather, Richard Pelham."

"Another rich man who favored the Communists?"

"Not at all.  His politics were extremely conventional, just not
his sexual ideas.  He preferred women during the menses.  He
believed that's when nature originally intended people to fuck,
but like everything else we humans skewed it."

"'Red Dick.'"  Dan chuckled briefly.  "A bit of an iconoclast,
was he?"

"More than a bit.  About men: he said that every man was two men,
one before and the other after ejaculation.  I'm glad the second
man doesn't last long."

Dan chuckled.  "But both admire willing women.  It's just that
your second man prefers to admire them from a little distance."

"You're agreeing with him.  He said we're all compelled to fuck
all the time.  Men just have to recharge."

He took a deep breath.  "You're incredible, Angela, whether or
not he gets the blame.  If I were younger I'd follow you around
like a puppy."

She smiled.  "And I would pat your head for that if your wife
wasn't watching like a hawk through the big window.  Will you
tell me something?"

"If I can."

"Why were you out there with cameras at all?  How did you know?
I found that hollow last year and only told Galen about it after
he rounded up Jim and the other guy half an hour before we got
there."

"I _didn't_ know!"  In a few brief sentences he described his
presidency of the local birdwatchers and his efforts in tracking
the Blue-Beaked Vireo.

"Then Galen isn't in it with you?"

"The bird watchers?"

She laughed.  "The Angela watchers."

"No."  He laughed, too.  "So far as I know, there is no
organization devoted to photographing Angela's sexual
adventures."

A car pulled up before John's gate and sat with idling engine.
She slipped her fingers under the door handle but looked back at
him, eyes sparkling.  "You don't take Playboy, do you?"

"I'm afraid not.  Should I?"

"They did ten pages on me last year in the October issue."

"Then ... then ..." he stuttered.

"But nothing so explicit as your shots has ever been published.
Until this week."

"God, Angela, I'm sorry about that!  I could cancel my postings
on that newsgroup, but it would accomplish nothing.  You saw.
People are already copying them.  They're too good."

White teeth flashed in a grin.  "If you're there tomorrow, I'll
see that you get even better ones."

She snatched open the door and fell into the seat.  He had a
glimpse of Galen's face, staring curiously, in the dome light.
She threw Dan a kiss from behind the window glass as the car sped
away.





END
kellis@dhp.com
Stories gratis at http://users.dhp.com/files/Authors/kellis/www

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