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From: "Bill Morgan" <morg1058@chartervt.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} NEW from Morgan: Jean and Jim, Part 4 of 9 M/F Rom
Date: Sun, 22 Jul 2001 09:10:02 -0400
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* * *

The following is a work of fiction regarding sexual relationships.  If you
feel that it is illegal, immoral, or otherwise improper for you to read
this, then DON'T READ IT.

* * *

The Callaways:

Jean & Jim -- Part 4 of 9

Copyright 2001 By Morgan.  All Rights Reserved

Preface & Acknowledgments

This book is the third in a series but it's the first one to be completed.
With the exception of Jim Dawson, all of the major characters will have
appeared in either or both of the two preceding works.  It is being posted
at the insistence of two of my fans, Heiner and Jeff, both of whom have read
it.

Unlike prior books, this one is not divided into chapters [Posted at
www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Morgan/www].  Rather it's divided by triple asterisks, but it's
an ongoing chronicle.  The divisions are in the interest of ease of posting
and have nothing to do with the story's structure.

Finally, I would most particularly thank Adrienne for her invaluable
assistance in critiquing this work.  (Another reason it's being posted now
is that if I didn't, her comments would exceed the length of the book
itself.)  All I can say about Adrienne is that she has a background in
intelligence and used it to good -- if for me, painful -- effect throughout.
I mean... is it really fair?  I mean just because a woman's body can't work
that way is no reason to change is it?  (Don't you just hate it when the
woman is always right?  She is and I do.)

Any errors remaining -- and I'm certain there are more than a few -- are
strictly my own responsibility.

If you enjoy the story -- or if you don't -- please let me hear from you at
<morg105829@aol.com>

 * * *

The first expedition to find Jim Dawson a willing lady to fuck ended in
failure.  And it was all Jean's fault, too.

She had scouted around and had picked a particular cocktail lounge as our
first target.  And like a general planning an assault, she covered all the
bases.  She had even made arrangements to have one of the company's
limousines waiting for her out front, assuming I would be driving a young
lady back to her place of residence with the objective of getting in her
pants.

That's the way it worked out in the end, but it wasn't the way it began.
Initially, she had called the office's transportation department to find out
what limousine or taxi service they might recommend.  When the dispatcher
learned that Jean wanted it for herself, he asked her to wait a moment.

She could hear communication on a cell phone, but couldn't quite pick it up.
A moment later the dispatcher was back.  "Miss Peters, Arthur Fleming will
have the gray Rolls waiting for you, if that's all right with you.  It
should be good enough."

"Are you kidding? _Good enough?_  Good grief!" Jean exclaimed.  But after
thinking for a moment she said, "I really appreciate Mr. Fleming's offer,
but it's after hours and he should be getting home.  Besides, there's the
overtime pay..."

"Oh, no!" the dispatcher interrupted.  "Art's doing it strictly on his own
time."  With a laugh he added, "He even offered to pay for the gas himself,
but I told him that was overdoing it, bigtime."  He paused again and then
said, "Miss Peters, he's doing it because he wants to.  He says that where
real class is concerned, he couldn't make a choice between you and Kate.
And that's really saying something!"  (The threat of sudden death hanging
over anyone who called Kate, "Mrs. Callaway," most particularly extended
downward into our organization.)

So anyway, Art Fleming was already waiting outside when we drove up.  This
place -- rare for the Midwest, but standard in California -- had valet
parking.  I really had to say that my BMW really gleamed that evening.  And
since it was close to the summer solstice, it was still daylight when we
drove up.  A car jock came running up to open the door, giving a low whistle
as he realized what the car was.

Unbeknownst to either of us, Sandy and Susan had spent the day detailing the
car, even using small toothbrushes to get every speck of polish off it.  The
girls had just finished when Jean and I went down the stairs to the garage.

"My God!" I exclaimed.  "What have you two done?"

"We thought your car should look nice for your first seduction, Dad," Sandy
said with her eyes twinkling.

"Well...  You two are just too much.  You cleaned the house and our
apartment spotlessly for your mother, and now you give my car..."  While I
was talking to her, I was walking all around it.  The level of care the two
girls had lavished on it was not to be believed.  Everything, inside and
out, was immaculate.  "...the care of its existence.  Never has it looked
this good.  Never!  Now what am I going to do to thank you?"

"Anything?" Sandy asked.

"Absolutely anything!" I replied.

"Neato!" she almost screamed.  "Dad, my birthday is next week.  You're going
to give me the most thorough fucking of my life!"  Then her face fell as she
looked at Jean.  "Mommy, if that's all right with you?"

"My darling daughter," Jean replied, "we're going out tonight to get your
Dad to fuck someone besides me.  On that basis, I really don't see how I can
object."  She paused for a moment and looked concerned as she continued,
"But he's awfully big, sweetie.  He could hurt you... badly."

"No he can't," Sandy replied with assurance.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I've been practicing," the girl replied.

"Practicing?" Jean asked, still skeptical.  "With what?"

"With an aluminum baseball bat," Sandy replied proudly.  "And it's even
longer than Daddy is."

At that Jean just rolled her eyes.  "My God!  And I thought I was the only
one..."

"It might even be the same bat," Sandy said in an utterly guileless tone of
voice.

With that we were off.

That evening Jean was wearing a sleeveless white dress with her gold collar
and a pair of diamond ear studs I had bought for her.  (I have no idea if
it's the same dress she wore when we met Lieutenant Richards, but I guess
she has a number of them that are pretty similar.)

We entered the lounge and the reaction was funny.  When we were inside and
being shown to a table in the lounge, there was an audible intake of breath
on the part of the patrons.  Clearly, other people agreed with my assessment
of Jean: She's in a class by herself.

At any rate, we sat there with glasses of pretty good Chablis -- don't you
just love the white-wine-and-brie bit? -- while Jean looked over the room.
What followed took me a little by surprise: Jean made incessant trips to the
ladies room.  This was so totally unlike her that after the third or fourth
trip I asked her about it.

"Look, turkey," she said with her eyes dancing, "the ladies room is the
intelligence center!  That's where I find out where the neatest guys are
hanging out... and maybe find a lovely young thing for you, too."

The next time Jean disappeared, she returned with a young lovely in tow.
"Jim, this is Chris.  I told her that you were looking to meet new people,
so..."

"Hi, Chris," I exclaimed.  "Will you join me?"

"I would be delighted," the young woman said.

Chris was about five feet four, brown hair, brown eyes and with an ordinary
figure.  But what the hell...  She was only the first try.

"I'll be going now," Jean said.  "As your cousin, I've just discharged my
familial duty.  I've produced a date for you."  She smiled broadly and
asked, "Happy now?"

"Very!" I replied.

And then Jean tore it.  She kissed me.

Unfortunately -- or fortunately, depending on one's point of view -- we seem
to be incapable of innocuous kisses.  What started as a simple peck didn't
quite work out that way.  The electricity and bells started instantly.
Unfortunately, Chris could see this, too, and she wasn't nearly as dumb as
she appeared to be.

"What _is_ this shit?" she exclaimed.  "I thought you were cousins.  If you
are, that's the most incestuous kiss I've ever seen cousins exchanging."
Then with a shake of her head she jumped up from her chair and announced,
"I'm outta here!"

"Whoops!" Jean whispered.  "Guess that was a little too much..."

"Darling, I love you so damned much, I just cannot give you a peck on the
lips."

"Oh, shit," she conceded.  "It was all my fault."  Looking deep into my eyes
she asked, "Jim, can you ever forgive me?"

"Well..." I replied, stretching out the word, "it all depends..."

"On what?"

"On whether you give me a really good kiss."

Jean came into my arms, molded her body to mine and really let loose.  For
my part I had the benefit of having been with Jean essentially 24/7 for
weeks, so I was prepared.  And she was so damned beautiful, too.

I guess our kiss must have noticeably raised the temperature in the room
because as we eased apart, there were cheers from the people nearby... and
from some who weren't so near.

A guy nearby commented, "Good God!  You two are _really_ in love!"

"Naah," Jean retorted.  "We're just good friends."

The guy just rolled his eyes.

We decided to stay for dinner -- the menu was interesting -- but first Jean
went out to tell Art to go home; she would be returning home with me.  When
she returned, she was giggling.  When I asked her what was so funny, she
replied, "Art says it's the first intelligent thing we've done in days.  He
thinks this whole idea of trying to fix you up with some girl or other is on
the far side of insanity."

"Smart man, Art," I commented.

Jean just looked at me strangely.

 * * *

The following week we celebrated Sandy's fourteenth birthday.  Although
everyone was invited, they all declined knowing what Sandy was expecting for
her birthday present.  However, this didn't stop Samantha and Stephanie from
helping to prepare her for her big night that was going to be celebrated in
our apartment.

At 5:30, Sandy appeared in the sitting room where I had been reading -- and
becoming more nervous by the minute.  She was utterly exquisite!  When she
was well into the room, Jean and Susan appeared in the bedroom doorway from
which Sandy had just emerged.  They just stood there watching silently.

All Sandy was wearing was a diaphanous white gown which was held closed only
by a blue ribbon tied with a bow under her still-growing breasts.  Although
we had spent countless hours together nude, this was very different.  Her
youthful body so tantalizingly revealed was in a way far sexier than if she
had been naked.  Jean had outdone herself with Sandy's makeup, too.  Her
eyes appeared to be larger than they really were and were dancing with a
mixture of excitement and apprehension.  Her golden hair framed her lovely
face; she was utterly gorgeous.  Aside from her gown, all she wore was her
gold collar around her slim neck.

"My darling Sandy!" I exclaimed.  "Never in your life have you looked so
beautiful!"

"Oh, Daddy!" she yelped and launched herself at me.

I sat her across my lap and kissed her.  Believe me when I tell you that
that was a one-of-a-kind kiss.  When we finally broke it, she just snuggled
close as I smelled the marvelous fragrance of her young body.

"Are you sure you want to do this, sweetie?" I asked softly.  "Wouldn't you
really rather wait?"

"Dad, do you know why I'm doing this?  Why I particularly want to do it
right now?"

"No, I guess I really don't," I replied.  "Except for the fact that the
older ones have done it."

"That's not it at all," she whispered.  "What I really want you to do is to
rinse out my insides.  I still get nightmares thinking about those stinking
guys fucking me one after the other, filling my cunt with their cream.  I
want yours, Daddy, not theirs.  Okay?"

"But you might get pregnant," I commented.  That was my very last line of
defense.

Sandy grimaced and replied, "No such luck."  Then with the most loving look
I've ever seen she added, "Nothing would make me prouder than to be able to
carry your baby in my belly, Dad.  Nothing!"  She grimaced again and
repeated, "But no such luck."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Two reasons: First, it's the wrong time of the month.  Second,
Depo-Provera."

"The first I understand.  But what's that Depo-whatever?"

"That's otherwise known as the Pill.  Okay?  The birth-control pill?"

"Oh," I muttered intelligently.

"Mom insisted.  I've been on them for a while now, so...  No baby," she
concluded with a disgusted look on her face.

At that point Jean and Susan entered the room but just continued on to the
kitchen.  Both were wearing short white terry robes.  When they returned,
Jean had a tray with glasses and a bottle of fine Chablis.  Susan followed
with a large tray of canap,s.

"I thought we would have drinks and hors d'oeuvres, then get to the opening
of gifts," Jean said with her eyes bright.  In this case, opening gifts
meant opening up my lovely daughter.

"You realize, sweetie," I said to Sandy, "that you're going to get a
spanking.  And that's fifteen from each of us.  That's thirty..."

"Forty-five!" Susie interrupted.  "I'm here, too, you know."

Sandy just rolled her eyes and said, "Okay.  Forty-five."  Then to me she
said, "But Dad, could you do me a favor?"

"That depends on the favor."

"Could I have my spanking after you fuck me, but right before you take me in
the ass?"  She rolled her eyes and added, "Sheila goes off like a rocket
when Jim does that to her, so..."

I looked at Jean who had a rather odd look on her face.  "And what's that
look for?" I inquired.

"'That look', as you call it, is apprehension," she replied.  "You can
consider tonight to be a rehearsal."

"Rehearsal?  For what?"

"My birthday is next week," she replied, "and I'm _not_ looking forward to
it."

"Wow!  Twenty-eight spanks..."

"Twenty-seven," she interrupted.  "I'll be twenty-six."

"But you said you were already 26..."

"That was a couple of months ago," she said.  "And I figured with my
birthday coming, that was close enough."

The four of us sat chatting idly about nothing while sipping the Chablis and
nibbling on the canap,s.  Sandy was getting more nervous by the minute.

"What's the big rush, sweetie?" Jean teased.  "Are you really in such a
great rush to lose your virginity?"

"I already..."

_"Lose your virginity!"_ Jean repeated emphatically.  "That other doesn't
count."

"What about you, Mom?" Sandy responded.  "How did you lose yours?"

"That's an easy question to answer," Jean replied.  "I guess I was almost
sixteen.  I had just run away from that dumb home and had no place to go and
no money.  So I sold my virginity to a guy for fifty bucks.  When he saw the
blood afterward, he gave me a ten-dollar tip."  She smiled wryly and added,
"Sixty dollars was more money than I had ever had in my whole life.  I
really felt rich.  Anyway, I peddled my ass from the outset and haven't
stopped yet.  Although the job title has changed -- now I'm a sex
therapist -- the duties haven't.  I'm still fucking for money and always
have."

"You're fucking Dad for the money?" Sandy asked with her eyes guileless.

"Of course."

"What if he wouldn't fuck you?  What if he just quit?"

Jean's eyes flared as the girl's thought registered.  "I would just quit
fucking him, I guess."

"You would like hell!" Sandy responded instantly.  When Jean's eyebrow went
up, Sandy modified her statement.  "You would like heck -- sorry, Mom.  You
would give him every dime you've got if that would get him between your
thighs again.  And you would go out on the street and peddle your ass again
if that's all you could do to get more money.  You would, wouldn't you?"

To that all Jean did was to stick out the tip of her pink tongue.  Sandy
just grinned at her mother's response.

"Come on, young lady," Jean finally said.  "I think it's about that time.
You're getting antsy."  To me she said, "Darling, could you give us a couple
of minutes, please?"

I noticed that Jean's terms of endearment were becoming more frequent and
more automatic.  By that I mean they just became a part of her speaking
vocabulary with me without conscious thought on her part.  Indeed, on more
than one occasion I found her changing her wording to avoid an endearment
when she thought about what she was about to say.  Interesting.

I waited a few minutes, then entered the bedroom.  I really should have had
a camera with me at that instant.  The image before me was unreal.  First,
in just those few minutes Jean had worked on Susan and on herself.  Both
were exquisitely beautiful, and both were naked on the bed.

Jean was kneeling up straight with her back to the bed's headboard.  Her
thighs were together and Sandy was using them as a pillow.  Susan was
similarly kneeling to Jean's right -- my left as I looked at them -- with
her back up straight and her thighs tightly together.

I guess it must have been Susie who had so carefully arranged the gown Sandy
was wearing on the bed.  The skirt was evenly spread on each side of the
girl's body and diaphanously revealed her youthful perfection.  She was
utterly gorgeous as she lay there looking at me with love, eagerness and
apprehension.

"Why don't you help your father?" Jean suggested to Susan.

Moving with the same unconscious grace of her mother, the girl got out of
bed, came to me and lovingly undressed me.  What do I mean by that?  First,
she came close and raised her mouth for a kiss.  Since I was about 28 inches
taller than she was, I lifted her up so she could melt her lips to mine.

Our kiss was utterly wonderful!

But Susie had a job to do.  I lowered her back to the floor and she very
expertly undressed me.  At the same time, though, she took every opportunity
to kiss and caress my body.  She kissed my nipples, caressed my butt (which
I guess had become pretty muscular by that time; she squeezed my buns and
just sighed), and finally took my penis in her mouth.  In no time, I was as
hard as a rock.

Gently caressing my sac she said, "Darling sister, you're really in luck
this afternoon.  Never can I recall seeing Dad's sac as full as it is right
now."  She turned to face her sister, grinned and said, "That diaphanous
gown you're wearing really works!  Dad's really loaded for you."  Then, with
a lovely look I couldn't see but which Jean told me about later, added, "Are
you sure you can take it all?  Your cunt isn't _that_ big, you know."

Sandy's response was to stick out the tip of her lovely pink tongue.  Then
she added a single word: "Jealous?"

"Very!"

I got on the bed from the bottom and moved between Sandy's legs that she had
spread for me.  Reaching up I untied the bow of the single wide ribbon
holding her gown closed, then spread it wide revealing her body in its
golden youthful perfection.

Sandy raised her knees and spread them wide to open herself up to me, and
even raised her hips up from the bed.  But that wasn't what I was interested
in at the moment.  Instead, I raised her head from her mother's lap and
pulled it close for a kiss.

It was different from any other Sandy and I had ever exchanged.  It was odd,
really.  There was her love but now there was pure passion added.  Gently, I
probed her mouth with my tongue and found hers.  When I made contact, it
seemed like the flow of love increased by an order of magnitude.

At the same time, I eased the gown off her shoulders leaving her naked in my
arms.  For her part, she tried to get her upper body in contact with mine so
she could move her turgid nipples over my chest.  Our kiss continued.

When I finally eased back a bit, Sandy was gasping for breath.  "That was
the most incredible kiss I've ever had, Dad!"  Then her eyes started to
water and she whispered, "I love you so very much!  Now please take me..."

It wasn't time.  I nibbled on her earlobe causing her to shiver in ecstasy.
Gently I kissed her face all over, then moved down to her neck.  Sandy was
torn.  On the one hand, she was experiencing a level of sexual stimulation
beyond her fondest dreams, but on the other hand, her cunt was running
rivers.  She wanted me inside her desperately.  (I learned all this later, I
should add.)

I continued down her perfect golden body to her budding tits.  While teasing
one breast and nipple with my teeth and tongue I gently caressed the other
with my fingertips.  Sandy was writhing in my arms and kissing any part of
me that was in reach of her mouth.

Still lower I moved, running my tongue into her navel and then finally down
to her cunt.  At that point I noticed something and moved away for an
instant to get a better look.  Like her mother, Sandy had a small patch of
golden pubic hair just above her slit.  Obviously, Jean had worked on her
pubic patch, too, combing it into a miniature of her hairdo.

"How utterly incredible!" I commented.

"Thank you, Dad," Sandy whispered hoarsely.  "Mommy thought you would like
it, but I didn't think you'd notice."  Then with a lovely girlish grin she
added, "She was right... as usual."

Lifting her legs up to my shoulders, I raised her lovely cunt to my lips and
then began feasting on a lovely youthful pussy that was almost as sweet as
her mother's.  It took just one sweep of my tongue over her
already-throbbing clit to trigger her first orgasm.

I guess I really gave her a workout.  I nibbled on her labia, licked and
nibbled her clit now out of its hood and throbbing with excitement, and
probed her vagina as deeply as my tongue could reach.  Sandy had a second
orgasm, then a third and fourth, each coming faster than the one before.

Looking upward, I saw Jean and Sandy in a passionate kiss while Jean's right
hand toyed with Sandy's right breast and nipple.  Susan had gone around to
the other side of the bed, meanwhile, and was doing everything she could
think of with the girl's other tit.

Sandy couldn't take any more.  Finally she cried, "Please, Daddy!  Just fuck
me!"

I had just taken her to another orgasm.  After licking her juices and cream
from around my lips, I lowered her hips so that her cunt was in line with my
cock.  Then with an impassive look on my face I replied softly, "No."

_"No?"_ she screamed in terror.  "What do you mean?"

"I will not fuck my little girl..." I responded in (what I thought to be) a
thoroughly reasonable tone.

She started to cry.  "You have to!  You promised!  And I'm so hot and so
ready..."

Ignoring her cry I continued, "...but I will make love to her if she asks me
nicely."

A series of expressions flashed over her lovely face.  Her tears stopped and
she said, "Love me, Daddy, please.  I'll cum so nicely for you.  I'll flood
your marvelous cock with my cream and give you a wonderful experience.
Please love me, Daddy."

I smiled warmly and positioned my rod at the entrance to her cunt planning
on easing in slowly.  That was not what Sandy had in mind, though.  Instead,
the girl positioned her legs around my hips and used her substantial
strength to pull me deep inside.

The feeling was utterly incredible.  Her cunt was so tight yet so elastic in
her youth that I managed to penetrate almost my entire length.  At the same
time I could feel the girl working her vaginal muscles to rhythmically
squeeze my cock.

"Oh, God!" she screamed.  "It's so good!  Never in my life did I dream it
could ever be this good."  Turning her head toward Jean she said, "Thank
you, Mommy!  Oh, thank you!  This is the most marvelous feeling of my life."

While I was fucking Sandy's luscious cunt, her sister and mother continued
to work on her face and tits.  I took her to one orgasm and then more.

"Oh, Daddy!" she cried.  "Can you feel it?  Can you feel my cum cream
flooding your marvelous cock?  Fuck... Love me, Daddy!  Hard!  Pound your
little girl's cunt with your weapon as hard as you can."

I took the girl up to the point of continuous orgasm and held her there.
When she was gasping for breath, I eased down, let her regain her breath,
and then did it again... and again... and again.

Now with her cunt flooded with her juices and cum cream, I could move easier
inside her and did.  Incredibly, in spite of the ravages of her orgasms and
most of the muscles in her lower body in spasm, Sandy was still able to
squeeze my invading cock.

Finally, in spite of all my practice with Jean, I could hold back no longer.
I drove into her luscious cunt to my root and screamed, "Cum with me,
darling!  Cum with Daddy!"

_"Yes!"_ she screamed and went off as she felt my cum flooding her insides.

An instant later, Sandy fainted from the overload of her entire nervous
system.  She just collapsed, but somehow her vaginal muscles continued to
milk my still-pulsating cock.

I was gasping for breath, too, for that matter, as Susie moved down her
sister's limp body.  "And what... do you think... you're doing?" I gasped.

Susan stopped, startled.  "The usual, Daddy," she replied.  "I'm going to
drink your mixed cum."

"Not yet," I said.  "This time, I'm going to do it first."

"You never do that with me," Jean said with a frown.  On the other hand, her
eyes were dancing as she spoke.

"That's because little imp here never gives me a chance," I complained.
"While I'm trying to breathe again, she's cleaning you out."

While I was lifting Sandy's hips to bring her cunt close, Jean slipped out
of bed.  I had begun to feast on our mixed creams when I heard the pop of a
cork.  When I had had all I could handle, I lowered Sandy's
still-unconscious body to the bed and made way for Susan.

I moved to the top of the bed and stretched out beside Jean.  With a lovely
smile she passed me a champagne flute and said, "This is Dom Perignon.
Rumor has it that it's the very best thing to wash down cum."

After taking a sip, I had to agree it was marvelous.

Remarkably, there was even more cum than Susie could handle.  When she moved
away, her mother gave her a small amount of champagne while she moved to
take her daughter's place.  Susan was so damned cute.  She took her mother's
place beside me at the head of the bed, had a sip of champagne and then held
up her face for a kiss.  What a delight!

By this time Sandy had regained consciousness and just sighed with pleasure
as her mother so-expertly worked on her still-flooded cunt.  But did Jean
let it go at that?  Hah!  When she had taken all the fluids she could reach,
she moved up the bed and kissed Sandy, opening her mouth as she did.  I saw
Sandy swallowing and realized Jean had her mouth full of cum that she
transferred to her daughter.  Then she moved up to the head of the bed and
pulled Sandy up beside her so the girl was between Jean and me with Susan on
my left.

"Mother, that was simply exquisite!" Sandy exclaimed.  "And champagne,
too..."  With a worshipful look in her eyes she turned her head to kiss Jean
again.

"My beautiful daughter!" Jean whispered.  Then she asked, "How does it feel
to be a woman now?"

"I really can't answer that yet, Mom," the girl replied.  "But what I do
know is I'll be remembering this in my dreams for years to come."

Turning her head toward me she said, "Daddy, that was utterly perfect!"  She
paused for a moment and then continued, "I wanted you to flood out all the
slime I've been living with for so long, and you sure did!"  Then she held
up her lips for a kiss.

That kiss was truly memorable.  It was so sweet and loving and wonderful.

By this time we had all recovered, so Sandy said, "Well...  I guess it's
time for step two.  Come on, Dad.  I guess you should go first."  With that
she indicated the end of the bed.

I moved down and sat on the end with my feet on the floor.  Sandy lay across
my legs and I could see her trying to soften her buns while waiting for her
spanks.  After I gave her seven, she got off, staggering a bit from the
pain, but then lay down facing the other way so I could spank her with a
good full stroke.

This was repeated with Susan, and then it was Jean's turn.  After only two
spanks Sandy looked up at her mother and said, "It's not going to do you any
good, Mom.  You're going easy in hopes that I'll be easy on you next week.
Well, it's not going to happen, so you might as well whack away."

Jean giggled at Sandy's crack but did start hitting her noticeably harder.

Finally it was over, and Sandy's bottom was scarlet in spite of her deep
tan.  Nevertheless, she got up on her hands and knees with her head toward
the head of the  bed.  Jean moved up to sit with her back against the
headboard and Sandy moved between her legs intending to eat her while I was
fucking her asshole.  Susan slithered on her back to get under Sandy's cunt
while I moved between her widespread knees.

I eased my cock into her cunt to pick up some fluids -- again, she was
running like a river -- and then spread her buns and positioned my cock
against her tiny amber hole.  That's all it took.  Sandy relaxed her
sphincter as much as she could and rammed backward impaling her ass on my
cock.

She screamed in pain, but then just moved back farther driving me deep into
her ass.  I began to move in her going deeper with each stroke until my
thighs hit her bruised buns at the end of every stroke.  I could hear
muffled moans and then gasps of joy.  Her mouth was muffled by Jean's cunt
of course.

"I'm cuming!" I screamed.  As I did, I spanked her ass hard and unloaded
inside her.

Sandy stiffened, let out a scream of ecstasy and went off like a rocket.
While I was cuming in gallons it seemed, she was flooding her sister's face
with her cream.  Again, it was far more than her nervous system could take
and she just collapsed face down on the bed.

Susie wriggled out from under her sister, then lifted her hips so she could
again feast on my cum that was seeping out from Sandy's still-stretched
asshole.

I joined Jean at the head of the bed, and again she gave me a glass of
champagne.  We sipped as we watched Susie work on her sister.  By the time
she had gathered all she could, Sandy had again regained consciousness.
Susie started to move toward me to clean off my cock.

"Oh, no you don't!" Sandy exclaimed.  "He's mine."

"But it's covered..." Susie began.

"And it's all mine!" Sandy finished.  "I'm cleaning Dad off.  You _are
not!"_

What followed was one of the finest blow-jobs imaginable.  It was truly in
her mother's class.  It finally ended when I exploded in her mouth after she
had taken my full length down her throat.  Sandy swallowed every drop.

Again we were arranged at the head of the bed, only this time Sandy was
wriggling trying to ease the pain of her buns.  After we each had sipped our
champagne she announced, "Dad, it could not have been any better.  It was so
utterly wonderful!"

"How about if you two clean yourselves up?" Jean said finally.  "Sandy,
you've been sweating like a pig and I think you could stand a shower."

When the two girls left, Jean turned to me and said, "Darling, you were
utterly magnificent.  Do you notice the change in Sandy, by the way?"

"Huh?" I replied in my most intelligent fashion.

"Sweetie, surely you've noticed the ineffable sadness that's been a constant
with her."

"Yes, I guess I have.  In fact I can recall the first genuine smile I had
ever seen on her face.  But even then..."

"That's exactly what I mean," Jean continued.  "But did you notice the
change?  That sadness is gone!  And gone for good, I hope.  My darling, it
was all you, too.

"Oops!" she interrupted herself.  Then with a broad grin she added, "The
cat's out of the bag."

"What's that mean?" I asked in my usually bewildered manner.

"It means that Sandy is learning from Sue about the 'mommy filter'" she
replied.

"What on earth is that?"

"In the first place, I don't think it's on Earth at all," Jean said.  "But
I'll tell you what the girls are saying."

This is what Jean told me.  More accurately, it's the conversation the girls
were having while they shared a shower.  Jean heard every word.

 * * *

"What do you suppose Mom and Dad are talking about?" Sandy asked.

"I guess they're talking about what Dad did with you," Susan replied, "but
we'll never know."

"Why won't we know?" Sandy asked.  "After all, we can hear anything they say
to each other."

"Oh, no we can't," Susan insisted.  "She's got a 'mommy filter' now."

"What are you talking about?"

"Have you ever tried to hear what Mommy's saying to Dad when it's something
she doesn't want us to hear?"

Sandy thought for a moment and then replied, "I guess so.  Why?"

"What happened?  You couldn't hear anything besides buzzing static, could
you?"

"How did you know that?"

"Because it's what I get," Susan replied, "so I was almost certain you'd get
it too."  She continued, "It's really worse than that, though."

"What's that mean?"

"It means that she can hear everything we're saying right now, for example.
She has a hearing faculty that's like ours only much greater.  In the first
place, she can hear through walls.  She can hear anything we say if we're
anywhere close to her... and 'close' doesn't have to be very close."

"You're kidding!" Sandy exclaimed. _"Everything?_  But that means..."

_"Everything!"_ Susan repeated.  "And it's apparently similar to the way we
hear and record except it's absolutely automatic.  Mom could be talking to
Dad and listening in on a conversation across the pool, but still hear
everything you and I might say, all at the same time.  There even seems to
be some sort of alarm or something.  If it's something she ought to know,
she knows it instantly.  Otherwise, it's just noted and recorded."

There was a pause for a moment as Sandy thought about what she had just
learned.  Then she said, "My God... gosh!  That's awful!  She knows
everything!..."

"Sure she does," Susie replied.  "But why is that awful?  I think it's
pretty neat myself.  And why did you change 'God' to 'gosh'?"

"You do?  Why?  And I changed because she doesn't like us to swear.  Besides
being a sin, it's unladylike."

At that Jean giggled and grinned.  "Those kids are just too damned much!"
she said.  "But I love them so!"

"And what are they going to do when you're gone?" I asked.  "Jean Peters,
you know better than anyone how much they love you and how important you are
to them."

Jean just swallowed hard and shook her head.

Susie was replying to Sandy's question regarding why she thought it was so
neat that Jean could know what she was thinking.  "Because Mom's like my
guardian angel.  She knows what I'm doing and what I'm thinking, but never
says or does anything unless it's something that's really bad for me.  Then
she heads it off but never with any reference to anything I've said.  It's
always as if it's an idea that just came into her head."

Then she shifted gears.  "Remember when you were worrying about whether
Daddy really liked the way you gave head and deep-throated him?"

"Yes..." Sandy replied, drawing out the word.  Already she could see where
Susan was going.  "You mean...?"

"That she heard us talking?  Of course she did.  And do you remember what
happened?"

"I sure do!" Sandy exclaimed.  "She seemed to be piss... mad at me because
Dad said I gave better head than she did."

"And we both doubt the truth of that very much, don't we?" Susie replied.
"But she did it to allay your fears and doubts."  The little girl sighed
deeply and added, "She's the best damned -- sorry, Mom -- darned mother in
the world."

At that crack, Jean howled with laughter.  "It's a hell of a note when they
apologize to me for something I shouldn't be able to hear!"

Then the conversation shifted.  Apparently, Susie was on her knees in front
of Sandy and was using her fingers to spread the girl's vagina to release
more of our trapped cum.

"Please don't, Imp," Sandy pleaded.  "Just leave it in there...  Please?"

"How did it feel, Big Sister?" Susie asked.  I guess she had risen back to
her feet and the sisters were closely embracing each other's wet body.

"Oh, Susie!  It was so utterly glorious!  It just could not have been
better."  She paused for a moment and then continued, "You know what our
problem is?  With kids, I mean.  We speak in superlatives so often, there's
no vocabulary left for something that really is out of this world."

"How does it compare to what Dad does with Mom?" Susie asked.

At that point, Jean just stopped her narrative.  "It's just getting to girl
talk," she said.  "You wouldn't be interested."  But her face reddened as
she said it.  I wondered why.

 * * *

The next day I had a chance to talk to Susie alone and asked her about it.
We traded information as it turned out.  I provided her with confirmation
that her mother really could hear whatever she or Sandy said.

For her part she said, "Oh, sure!  We were talking about you and Mom.  We
agreed that as perfect as your lovemaking with Sandy was, it was just a pale
imitation of you with Mom.  We agreed that you utterly adore the woman and
really don't see another female.  She's so neat, the others just disappear.

To that I could only agree.

 * * *

That night Jean outdid herself with the dinner.  She prepared tournedos
Rossini with foie gras and truffles that was out of this world.  With it she
served a Chateau Mouton Rothschild from a 20 year.  Magnificent!  And the
girls were served the wine, too.

No birthday party would be complete without ice cream and birthday cake and
this  was no exception.  Sandy blew out all her candles after making a wish
and appeared to be the happiest girl alive.  I noticed that she appeared
genuinely happy for the first time since I had met her.  There was no longer
the overtone of sadness that she formerly wore along with any other
expression.

Finally, we produced the gifts.  I gave her a Tiffany box wrapped in its
characteristic -- and trademarked -- light-blue box with a ribbon.

She opened it with the care of a bomb disposal expert disarming a nuclear
device.  Finally she reached the velvet box inside, removed it and opened
the cover.

She gasped, "My Go.. Gosh!"

Jean just giggled at her words and slowly shook her head in amusement.
"Sweetie, I know you two have been trying to be so very good -- not
swearing, cursing or using obscenities -- but sometimes you just have to let
it out."

The two girls looked at Jean and in unison said, "Mom, you're the greatest!"
Then they all laughed together.

Sandy carefully removed the gold chain bracelet that matched her collar, but
was significantly wider.  She turned it over, read the inscription and began
to bawl.

I was out of my chair like a shot.  I lifted her up from hers, returned to
my own and sat down with my girl across my lap.  Then I just held her
tightly as she cried her eyes out.

The engraved inscription read: To my darling daughter, Sandy, who will wear
the marks of her overwhelming love and courage for the rest of her life,
from her father who adores her.

Finally she regained control, then turned in my lap and melted her lips to
mine with the warmest, sweetest kiss I've ever received.  I just held her
tightly and returned it with all of the power I could muster.  It proved to
be enough to put her out.

When she recovered, she just nuzzled my shoulder and murmured, "Daddy, that
is the greatest gift of all.  I just don't know what to say."

"Sweetie," I replied, "that gift is a bit strange.  The sentiments are mine,
but the gift is from Tiffany.  I haven't given you mine yet."

_"What?"_ she screamed.

 * * *

It had been about 10 days earlier.  And like so many other days that summer,
it was hot as hell.  Nevertheless, we had to get gifts for Sandy's birthday,
so the four of us set off for the mall.  Poor Sandy!  She spent most of the
day being shoved out of one store after another as one or another of us
looked for a particular gift.

At any rate, we wound up at Tiffany's and Sandy was told to get lost -- but
not too lost.  As usual, Sandy and Jean were wearing the same very short
Levi cut-offs along with the same or similar chambray shirts that had seen
their best days at least 10 years earlier.  And again, the tails were tied
under their tits.  With the shorts being worn low on their hips, there was a
vast expanse of perfect golden skin in between the two garments.

Jean, Susan and I entered the store.  We found Mr. Payne, our salesman,
engaged in conversation with an impeccably dressed older man.  But when we
entered, Payne lighted up like a Christmas tree.

"Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Dawson!  How have you been?"  Then he very proudly
added, "May I present the chairman of the board and CEO of Tiffany &
Company, John Thompson."

We shook hands and I was amused by Jean.  She actually appeared to be
embarrassed.

"Please accept my apologies for my appearance, Mr. Thompson," she said.  "I
certainly never thought..."

"I can't accept it, and I won't, Mrs. Dawson," Thompson interrupted.

Now Jean really looked embarrassed.

"The reason I won't," he continued with a warm smile, "is that I have never
seen as beautiful a woman as you in my entire life."  He continued to study
her closely and then added, "You're wearing no makeup at all, are you?"

"Mr. Thompson, I..."

"Are you?" he insisted.

"No," Jean admitted glumly.  "I'm sorry."

"I'm not," Thompson concluded.  "Now how may we serve you today?"

We told Richards and Thompson that the purpose was to find a present for
Sandy.  Richards suggested a bracelet to match her collar and went off to
get some.  While he was gone, Thompson continued to study Jean, but his eyes
kept shifting between Jean and Susan.

Finally he said, "I just don't believe this, Mrs. Dawson.  Quite honestly,
you appear to be a very nubile 18 or 19.  I just can't believe you could
have a daughter as old as Susan."

"I'm substantially older than that, Mr. Thompson," Jean replied with a warm
smile.  "But then you've not met our older daughter, Sandy.  She's being
frozen out this morning because we're shopping for her gift.  She's going to
be 14 very soon."

"Now that's just plain impossible!" Thompson exclaimed.  "What did you do?
Give birth at the age of ten?"

At that point Richards rejoined us with a bracelet that was perfect.  It was
exactly what we were looking for.  Jean just gave a decisive nod and I went
down the counter with Richards to work on the inscription.  He read, "To my
darling daughter, Sandy, who will wear the marks of her overwhelming love
and courage for the rest of her life, from her father who adores her."

"What does this mean?" he asked.  "'...wear the marks of her overwhelming
love and courage'"

"Just a moment, Mr. Payne, and I'll tell you.  But first I have to clear the
inscription with my wife."

Jean read it and her eyes widened.  "Jim, it's utterly perfect!  Go!"

After running my credit card through their imprinter and getting a charge
authorization, Payne went off to have the bracelet engraved and we sent
Susie out to find Sandy.  A few moments later the two girls entered the
store and we introduced Sandy to Mr. Thompson.

"I just can't believe this," he stammered.  "Never have I seen three women
who will end up as identical as triplets.  But how...?"

"Because the girls are adopted, is how," Jean explained.

By then Payne had returned.  In his hand was a copy of the inscription that
he showed to Thompson.  The man's eyes widened as he read it and then Payne
explained that I was going to tell them about it.

"Sandy, show the men your brand."

She looked at me strangely, then turned sideways to lift the bottom of her
shorts.  They were too tight for that to work so she unbuttoned the
waistband and let them down exposing the brand on her right flank.  The two
men just gasped in horror.

"My God!" Thompson exclaimed.  "What happened?"

Jean related what had happened to the two girls in captivity and how Sandy
had sacrificed herself to protect her younger sister.  Then she had Susan
show where she had branded herself to try to spare her sister some pain.

For my part, I realized something else.  If I had told Sandy to strip naked
on the spot, she would have done it in an instant.  It was a very humbling
thought.

"So this magnificent girl at the age of only 12 sacrificed herself to try to
protect her little sister.  What incredible courage!"

"And, by the way," I added, "she branded herself.  Can you believe it?"

"Quite honestly, Mr. Dawson, had I not seen it with my own two eyes I would
not have believed it."

Then he whispered something to Payne who retrieved Tiffany's original of the
charge slip.  After checking to ensure it was the correct one, Thompson very
carefully ripped it up into tiny pieces and dropped them into a wastebasket
making certain that I was aware of what he was doing.

"Sandra Dawson," he said, "you may be the finest young woman alive on earth
today.  You're certainly the most beautiful.  But now I see that as
incredible as your surface beauty is, it's only a small fraction of your
beauty within."  Then with a grin he added, "Of course it's really not fair.
Why should one girl have absolutely everything?"

At that remark, Sandy beamed but there was still that overtone of sadness.

 * * *

"So this is a gift from Tiffany, Daddy?" Sandy asked as she again examined
her lovely bracelet.

"It sure is."

"But why?" she asked.

"Sweetie, because of the inscription.  It's a tribute to a girl's incredible
love and courage in sacrificing herself for someone else.  I can tell you
there are no words to use adequately to describe what you did."  Then I
grinned and added, "But aren't you even interested in my gift?"

"Oh, Daddy!" Sandy yelped.  "Of course I'm interested."  Then she hugged me
tightly and added, "I love you so damned much I can't stand it!..."  Then to
her mother  she added, "Sorry about that, Mom.  It just slipped out."

"It's okay, sweetie," Jean replied.  "I love him so damned much I can't
stand it either."

"Then marry me, Jean.  Please?"

She just sadly shook her head.

I gave Sandy another box from Tiffany.  Again she unwrapped it with
exquisite care and removed the box inside.  Carefully she opened it and saw
a pair of gold ear studs in the shape of small balls.

"They're lovely, Daddy!" she exclaimed.  "And they'll be perfect with my
collar and bracelet, too."

"Notice anything different about the box in your hand?" I asked.

She looked it over carefully, then looked at me and said, "It's deeper than
usual, isn't it?"

The gold studs were sitting on a black velvet-covered tray.  "There's a
ribbon at the back of the tray, sweetie.  Use it as a handle to lift it out.
And you're right; the box is deeper than normal.  You'll soon see why."

She lifted out the tray and her eyes bugged.  "Oh my God!" she breathed.
"They're  fabulous!"  On the second tray which was revealed when the upper
tray was removed was a second tray with a pair of diamond ear studs, each a
certified perfect diamond of about two carats.

Sandy studied them carefully and then started to giggle.  "This is just so
great!"

"What's so funny, sweetie?" I asked.

Instead of answering directly, she asked, "These are real, aren't they,
Dad?"

"They're real," I assured her.  "In fact, under that tray are certificates
certifying that they are perfect.  But why do you ask?"

"It's such a hoot!" Sandy giggled.  "They're so big, all the kids will think
they're rhinestones I borrowed from Mom.  They would utterly freak out if
they knew they were real... and mine!"

There were other gifts to be opened.  When it was over Sandy concluded that
it had been the very best day of her entire life.

The women excused themselves and asked me to amuse myself for thirty
minutes.  When I entered the bedroom, it was apparent why.  There was Jean
lying on the bed with her head resting on Sandy's thighs.  It was an exact
reversal of what had happened earlier, with Jean now wearing the filmy gown
that Sandy had worn earlier.  Again it was tied under her breasts with a
blue ribbon.

In fact, it was an exact replay.  Jean even volunteered for her birthday
spanking in advance so she, too, could have crimson buns when I took her in
her ass.  Never had I had an experience like that one.  It was similar to
Sandy's but with so much more love and pure passion.

Utterly unreal!

 * * *

The next day we got a call from New York.  It seemed that Mr. Thompson was
going to be back in Chicago the following day and asked if our whole family
could join him for dinner at the Pump Room in the Ambassador Hotel.  When I
passed on his message, Jean and the girls were totally thrilled.  We agreed
on a time, and he said he would be waiting for us at the table when we
arrived.

The girls immediately went shopping, and I did, too.  The following day --
the day of the dinner -- the girls went off to see Andy Shepherd to get
their hair done.

That evening, the women presented themselves for inspection and I almost
dropped my teeth.  All three were utterly gorgeous and all were wearing
essentially identical sleeveless white dresses.

I then put on the final decorations.  It seemed like the right thing to do,
so I dug out the set of diamond jewelry I had purchased that day and gave
the pieces to Jean.  She was literally speechless.  To Sandy I presented a
diamond choker for her to wear with her diamond ear studs, and to Susan I
gave a single perfect 2-carat diamond hanging from a gold chain along with a
pair of gold ball ear studs like Sandy's.

The girls were ecstatic!  It was so wonderful finally to see sheer unalloyed
happiness on Sandy's face.  And that girl was truly happy.

As usual for that summer, it was still as hot as hell in Chicago, so the
three girls were just wearing white lace shawls as we left to drive into the
city.  Arriving at The Ambassador, I guess we caused a certain amount of
consternation.  The doorman rushed to open Jean's door, but then seeing the
two girls sitting in the back he motioned to two bellmen who rushed to the
doors to hand the women out.

It was almost funny to see the way the women were handled as if they were
made of the finest, most delicate china.  Of course, all three moved with
the same unconscious grace and warmly thanked the men for their courtesy.
To show you how bad it was, none of them even thought to extend a hand for a
tip... and that's as bad as it can get.  Nevertheless, I gave each one a
fifty but I'm not sure any of them even noticed.

I don't know how to describe my feelings as we entered the dining room and
were being shown to Thompson's table.  Certainly I was proud.  I was
escorting three of the most beautiful women God in His infinite wisdom had
ever seen fit to put on this earth.  But there was so much more.  There was
their goodness, their charity, their courage and their brains.  Unreal!

And then there were the audible gasps from the other diners as they saw the
girls.  To say that I felt like a million bucks is to understate the case by
several orders of magnitude.  And Jean?  While everyone in the room had his
or her eyes on her, she had eyes only for me.  Was that all?  For Jean?
Hah!  When we reached the table, the maitre  d' was holding her chair.
Instead of being seated, though, she came into my arms and kissed me, then
probed my mouth with her tongue.

This time the sound of gasps permeated the room.

Jean murmured in my ear, "I love you, my darling," and then gracefully took
her seat.  Waiters had appeared to hold the chairs for the two girls and
were rewarded with brilliant smiles that almost melted them to the floor.

"Wow!" was the first thing Thompson said.  "Never in my entire life have I
seen such incredible beauty.  Mrs. Dawson..."

"Jean, please," she interrupted.

"Jean, then," he acceded.  "My name is Jack."

Then, although his eyes were dancing, he grimaced and said, "It's so damned
sad..."

"What's sad, Mr. Thompson?" Susan asked.

"You three are what's so sad," he replied.  "I hope you know that your
mother is wearing the finest pieces of jewelry we carry, and just look..."

"I think they look just lovely on her," Sandy said.  "I don't see the
problem."

"The problem, dear Sandra, is that against your mother's overwhelming
beauty, the jewels just disappear."  He shook his head and continued, "When
I met you at our store, I thought you were magnificent.  None of you were
wearing makeup at the time, and you all had your hair in ponytails.  But
now?  Unbelievable!"

"You really don't know the half of it," I said.  "Don't you think those
hairdos are lovely on the girls?"

All Thompson could do was to shake his head in wonder.

I reached over to Jean and she instantly knew what I was about to do.
"Please don't, Jim!" she begged.

I just looked at her and nodded.

"Okay for you," she said.  "When the other women in the room murder me,
leaving these poor girls orphans, you're going to have to take care of
them."

"I sure will," I promised with my eyes dancing.  Then I mussed Jean's lovely
hair as much as I could.  I really sort of gave her a scalp massage.
"Okay," I said finally.

Jean just glared at me and then gave her head one hard shake.  Instantly her
hair was restored exactly to its previous condition.

This time I could hear groans coming from a number of women who had seen
what had happened, or enough of it anyway to appreciate Jean's peculiar
ability.

"Oh, my!" Thompson remarked.  "I see exactly what your wife was saying."
Then to Jean he asked, "But how on earth do you do that?"

"I'm really not sure, Jack," Jean replied.  Then with her eyes wide she
added, "But please be sure that Jim delivers on his promise to look out for
the girls after I've been murdered."

With a solemn voice but with his eyes dancing, he said, "I'll be certain to
do that."

The evening was really quite strange.  It had been obvious from the outset
that Thompson had a very definite purpose in mind for our dinner meeting,
but nothing was said.  Instead, we had drinks and just conversed.  For his
part, he became increasingly amazed at the girls' knowledge and maturity.
Susan became his particular delight because of her marvelous combination of
being a little girl yet one able to converse with adults on any conceivable
topic.  In fact, I noticed that Thompson seemed to be deliberately changing
topics around to try to find something the girls couldn't talk about.  I
could have told him that his topic search wouldn't be very productive.

The dinner progressed, and it was truly lovely.  Actually, it got fairly
close to what Jean did routinely at home every day.  Finally, dessert was
served, followed by cheese, and ultimately by coffee and cognac.

As the cognac was being poured, the maitre d' appeared with a large envelope
that he handed to Thompson.  I assumed -- correctly, as it turned out --
that it was what he was awaiting.  He opened it carefully and pulled out a
stack of what appeared to be 11 by 14  photos, but he was careful to prevent
anyone else at the table from seeing them.  After quickly scanning the stack
he slid them back into the envelope.

"Dawsons," he began, "as you've probably guessed, that envelope is what I've
been waiting for."  He paused and then continued, "I've got a reputation at
Tiffany's and among people who know me as being impulsive.  And I guess it's
a fair appraisal.

"Anyway, Jean, Sandy and Susan, when I first met you an idea came into my
head that I wanted to pursue.  Tonight was the result, and for my purposes
it could not have been any better.  You see, what I would like is for you
three to model for Tiffany's advertising."

The looks on the faces of the three girls at that instant was utterly
priceless!  There was utter shock, consternation, disbelief...  You name it,
and it showed.

"I think that's a great idea," I said, "but what brought you to that
conclusion?"

"These," he replied, handing over the envelope.

There were over a dozen color photos, all obviously taken at the Pump Room
that evening.  And they were utterly out of sight.  All three of the women
looked magnificent and they even showcased the jewelry they were wearing.

"Lovely," I commented, handing them back.

"I have a question, Jim," he asked.  "Is your wife capable of being clumsy?
Of being anything other than elegantly graceful?"

"I can answer that," Sandy interjected, "and the answer is no.  Awhile ago
we were fooling around at the mall, acting clumsy.  Mom couldn't do it.  Can
you imagine the phrase, gracefully clumsy?  It's an ultimate oxymoron, isn't
it?"

"I love it, Sandy!" Susie piped up.  "Gracefully clumsy!  And you're right:
it is the ultimate oxymoron."

"My God," Thompson murmured, "they're not only gorgeous, they're brilliant
besides."  Again turning to me he asked, "Is there anything these women
don't have?"  He shook his head and murmured, "An 8-year-old using
'oxymoron' and obviously knowing what it means.  Incredible!"

"If there is something," I replied, "I haven't been able to find it yet.  In
addition to the beauty, brains and courage, there's also incredible physical
strength and athletic ability.  We all tease Jean because she'll just go
back and forth in our 50-meter pool effortlessly.  We call it her 'swimming
to Michigan' mode.  You know something?  I really think she's capable of
swimming straight across the lake to Michigan."

"May I see the pictures, please?" Jean asked timorously.

Thompson passed the envelope to her and she began to look through the
photos.  Instead of putting them back, though, she passed them on to the
girls as she finished looking at each one.  One caught her eye and she
giggled.  What a lovely joyous sound!  The photographer -- who we had never
noticed -- somehow had caught Jean in the middle of her head shake restoring
her hair.  It stopped the action just as each hair was about to settle in
its appropriate place.

"These are very flattering, Jack," Jean said, "but you can't be serious
about modeling.  We're just not the model type.  None of us."

"If you mean the anorexic-skin-and-bones model, you've certainly got that
right.  But that's not what we want nor who we are.  Jean Dawson, you are
elegant beauty and grace, as are your daughters.  You personify what every
woman alive in the world today would like to be.  And that's particularly
true when accompanied by your daughters.  Not only are you incredibly
beautiful, you've passed on that beauty to your progeny.

"Now seriously, isn't that truly what every woman wants?"

I thought about his words and he was dead right.

Jean sputtered, but really had nothing she could say.  The result was -- and
is -- that if you see gorgeous blue-eyed blondes in ads for Tiffany &
Company, you'll know who they are.

 * * *

Well, it was back to the mines for me.  Having blown it when Jean
accompanied me on my hunting expedition, I decided to do it myself.

I had managed to locate a nice place for hunting.  It was a very nice
singles bar and restaurant in Northbrook -- the bar area occupied about half
the area -- with booths, small tables, quiet music... and lots of single wom
en.

The first time I went in, I sat at the bar and started chatting with the
bartender, Charley.  I learned that not only did he tend bar, but he was the
manager and part-owner of the place.  He pointed out something that I
thought I had already noticed, but appreciated his confirmation: All the
girls were looking at me and just waiting.

Charley thought it was funny as hell.  "Mr. Smith, this is an utter riot!
(I had introduced myself as Jim Smith.)  The girls are all waiting for you
to make a choice.  I've already seen four nice guys get the brush-off
because the girls are waiting in hopes of something better: you!"

I looked around the room carefully and finally picked out a vivacious
brown-haired girl with what appeared to be a decent body.  Although she was
talking with three other girls, I had been watching her as she kept her eyes
on me.

Walking over to her I said, "Hi!  I'm Jim Smith.  May I buy you a drink?"

That was all it took.  She almost melted on the spot, and we went back to a
booth.  Unfortunately, Jamie turned out to be a total airhead.  I could
almost hear the wind whistling between her ears.  Oh, well...

But the pick-up had worked and there would be other days.

I did buy her dinner though, but to her dismay, then excused myself.

It wasn't very late when I returned home, but the lights were out so the
girls were in bed.  Carefully opening the door I heard Jean reading quietly
out loud.  There she was propped up in bed with Susie asleep on her shoulder
reading _Robin Hood._  Sandy was asleep on the other side but had left lots
of room for me between Jean and herself.

"What are you reading aloud for?" I asked.  "Susie's asleep."

At that point without moving a muscle or opening her eyes Susie repeated
everything Jean had just read to her from the page.  Then her eyes popped
open, she grinned and asked, "Or would you rather I start at the beginning,
Daddy?"

"Did you score, darling?" Jean asked.  "If you did, it would have had to be
pretty fast.  You did eat, didn't you?" she added as she started to get out
of bed.  She was fully prepared to cook dinner for me right then if I had
said I hadn't eaten.

"No, I didn't score, but I could have.  The young lovely was deeply
disappointed that I wasn't interested in getting in her pants."  I shook my
head and added, "A total airhead."

"Darn!" Susie announced.

"And what does that mean?" I asked.

"It means I was looking forward to tasting other women's cunt juices to
compare with Mommy's is what it means."  Then she grinned winsomely and
added, "Oh, well, there'll be other opportunities."

Then she got out of bad -- moving with the same unconscious grace of her
mother --  and proceeded to undress me and carefully put away my clothes.

Our lovemaking that night was even more passionate than usual.  In fact,
Jean awakened me twice during the night for more, something she almost never
did.  I began to think that Jean might be having second thoughts regarding
marrying me.

Anyway, I went back to the lounge each night.  On the third night Charley
came up to me and said, "Jim (we were on a first-name basis by then), could
you do me a favor?"

"Sure, Charley.  What?"

"Co... Cou... Could you vary the time you come in, do you think?"

"Sure, Charley, but why?"

"Just look around first," he replied.

I did and silently whistled.  "Good grief!" I exclaimed.  "It's only
Wednesday, but this looks like a Friday-night crowd."

"You got that right," Charley agreed.  "A _very good_ Friday night, at that.
But..."

"But what?"

"Well, Jim, you're becoming too predictable.  What happened is that most of
these chicks arrived within the last fifteen minutes.  You'll make your
selection and the rest will be out of here.  Do you think you could vary
your arrival time a bit?"

"For you, Charley, anything!" I said with a grin.

He returned the grin and served me a Cardhu on the rocks.  (I had added
something new to my liquor repertoire.  Scotch, being lower in proof than
Beefeater's, is easier to sip when one is hunting.  I even had an occasional
Maker's Mark.)

Although I scored -- or could have -- with every girl I approached, I must
have gone through seven or eight before I found one I could bed.

This happened the following week.  As Charley had requested, I was varying
my arrival time across a span of about two and a half hours.  Charley was
utterly ecstatic.  Business was booming like never before.  It had actually
gotten to the point where I started to have difficulty paying for anything.
He claimed that the establishment was minting money.  Nevertheless, I
insisted on paying.  I guess what he did was to serve doubles -- at least --
at a single-drink price.

Anyway, I met Merrilee Adams.  She caught my eye because she seemed so
different from most of the girls in the place.  She had dark hair, lovely
gray eyes and a slim figure.  Although she was with a group of girls, she
didn't appear to be part of it.  I made a move.

"Hi!  I'm Jim Smith.  May I buy you a drink?"

Her first reaction was endearing.  She looked around to see who I was
talking to; apparently she figured I couldn't have meant her.  When she
realized I did mean her, she brightened with a lovely smile revealing
beautiful teeth.  Almost as perfect as Jean's, I thought.

"I would love one, Jim.  Thank you very much," she replied.

Her voice was soft and very pleasant.  This one might be a winner, I
thought.

We moved to my customary booth -- it wasn't reserved, but might as well have
been -- and she was seated.  "What would you like?" I asked.

Again, I was impressed by her answer.  "I suppose I'm expected to order one
of those alcoholic milkshakes, but I really don't like them.  Could I have
whatever you're drinking?  It doesn't look like you go for them either."

I ordered her a Cardhu on the rocks and we talked.  She was very intelligent
and an interesting person to talk to.  Better and better.  Then I asked if
she would like to join me for dinner.

"I would love it!" she exclaimed.  Then her face fell and she looked
chagrined.  "That acceptance was much too fast, wasn't it?"

"I don't think so," I replied.  But then I studied her and realized that she
was showing signs of weight loss -- weight she certainly didn't need to
lose.  I said as much.

"I'm running out of money," she admitted.  "I came out here for a job.  I
don't have the job -- I haven't even had a real interview yet -- and I'm
running out of time because of the money."

"What do you do?" I asked.

"I write software," she replied, "but it's a very special kind.  It needs a
very special user interface and an extremely powerful and sophisticated
operating system behind it.  There's only one place I know that has both,
and that's where I want to work."

"What place is that?"

"Could we talk about something more pleasant?" she asked.  "I really didn't
come here tonight to air my frustrations."

"What did you come here for?"

She swallowed hard and then blurted, "To get laid... by you."

Wow!  I asked a simple question and got a simple answer.  But what an
answer!

We ordered dinner -- or rather I ordered for both of us -- and had steak.
Charley's people did a very nice job with a plain Omaha sirloin.  Merrilee
was very appreciative.

Looking around the place I realized something else.  Not only was it loaded
with girls, there was now a new bunch of guys, too.  And since I had
apparently made my choice for the evening, the general hunting was in
progress.  Charley really was minting money; I noticed that he had another
bartender working and it looked like he might be going for a third.  Good
for him.

We finished dinner and I escorted her to my car.  She just looked at it and
whistled softly.  "You really are loaded, aren't you?"

I just shrugged.

As we drove to her apartment she said softly, "I hope I don't disappoint you
too much.  I'm really sort of small on top, and... and... I don't have much
experience."  She swallowed hard and whispered, "Jim, whatever I do, please
don't laugh."

I decided right then that Merrilee would make some guy a truly wonderful
wife.  But that guy wasn't me.

"I won't laugh," I replied softly.  Then I added, "There's something else,
though, isn't there?  What is it?"

"Jim Smith, you are unreal!" she exclaimed.  "Every guy I've ever known has
had all the sensitivity of a dead clam, but you...  My God!"  Then she
looked at me more closely and continued, "But you're the farthest thing from
one of those guys who's 'in touch with his feelings' as it's possible to
get.  You're all man, and it's so incredibly wonderful."

She paused and then blurted, "I shaved my pussy...  Or most of it, anyway."

Although my eyes were on the road, I could feel her eyes boring into me
while she waited for a response.

"Sounds neat," I replied quietly.  "And it sounds like you'd like to have
your cunt eaten, too."

"You wouldn't...  You couldn't...  Could you?  I mean..."

"Yes, I can and probably will.  I love eating cunt as a matter of fact."

"I'm in heaven and I haven't even died," she exclaimed.  She was quiet for a
few moments and then added, "It's never ever happened to me before.  A
lezzie wanted to do me, but I really wasn't ready for that scene.  But it's
just something that's appealed to me.  But a guy like you..."

"What about a guy like me?" I asked.

"You're really built, aren't you?  Even wearing a jacket and tie, I got an
occasional glimpse of bulging muscles.  You have them, don't you?"

"I work out every day," I told her.  When I told her the weight loadings I
used, she just rolled her eyes.

"I work out once a week," she replied, "and I think that's good.  Your
weights are about 10 times mine.  And you're tanned, too, aren't you?"

"All over, as you're about to learn anyway," I replied.  "Even my cock is
tanned."

"This is absolutely unbelievable!" she softly exclaimed.  "Every girl in
that place has the hots for you."  She giggled and said, "You know what?  If
you announced that the only way you would take a girl is if you could try
her out fucking on a tabletop right there, virtually every girl there would
take you up on it."

She giggled again as she thought through her idea.  "Jim, what you need to
do is tell the interested girls to strip.  Some would wash out on the spot
when you learned that their figures disappeared with their clothing.  Then
you try out cunts for size and just keep the one you want."  Again she
giggled and added, "It would be so much more efficient, too."

In Merrilee Adams it was clear I had a real winner.

Arriving at Merrilee's apartment, she opened the door and preceded me in.
It was small but spotless.  I could tell that the poor girl was beginning to
shake with fear.  Fortunately, Charley had really been thinking.  Since we
had been drinking Cardhu, he had a fresh bottle for me in a paper bag which
he gave me when I paid the bill.  His eyes had widened when I gave him an
extra $100 tip.

"Do you have some ice?" I asked.

She produced the ice and two glasses with a raised eyebrow.  "Here's the
ice," she announced, "but what are we drinking?  Ice water?"

"Nope.  Cardhu," I replied, producing the bottle.

I poured two drinks.  Merrilee took hers and headed for the bedroom.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"The bed's in here," she replied.  "And it's a lot more comfortable than
being fucked on a hard floor."

"Come here," I ordered, patting the sofa cushion beside me.

She looked puzzled but did as I said.

What followed was a classic seduction as taught to me by Jean.  First I
kissed her lips which were warm, sweet and loving.  I nibbled on her
earlobes, causing her body to shudder every time.  I carefully unzipped her
dress after undoing the hook at the top (I was so proud to have remembered
the hook), and peeled it off her arms.

This exposed her Wonder Bra.  By this time she was moaning with passion and
was, if anything, trying to hurry me along.  What she wasn't doing was
resisting in any way.

What I guess I haven't mentioned yet is that Jean did ultimately buy a full
collection of bras.  At least a full collection of bra closures, and the
Wonder Bra was in the collection.  Jean in a Wonder Bra was funny as hell,
by the way.  It's supposed to make a small girl look big, but the designers
never thought of a girl with the very firm tits that Jean has.  She couldn't
wait to get the damned thing off.

Anyway, I removed Merrilee's bra and worked on her tits and nipples.  As she
had said, she really was small on top, but her tits were perfectly shaped.
They reminded me in size of Sandy's.  But they were lovely, with tiny
nipples and very small areolae.  By now she was crying in passion.  Get into
her pants?  She got off the sofa to get rid of her dress and drop her
bikini.

"I don't believe this," she said as she slipped off her bikini.  "It's
sopping!"

She was utterly stunned when I took it from her and raised it to my nose.
"My, what a sweet cunt!" I commented.

Finally, I rose from the sofa and let her undress me.  She really looked
cute as she did it, too.  Obviously, this was another first for her.  When
she had me down to my jockey shorts, she could see the bulge of my sex.
Dropping to her knees, she swallowed hard and then lowered them.

She gasped, "My God!  I just don't believe this."

She rocked back so she was kneeling with her butt on her heels and just
looked me up and down.  "Jim Smith, you are unreal!  You're like one of
those Greek gods, but with a glorious tan all over.  I could eat you up!"
Which she proceeded to try to do by taking the end of my cock in her mouth.
I'm certain that that, too, was a first.  She was about to go further, but
that wasn't on my agenda.

Instead, I raised her up from her knees, then picked her up in my arms.  She
realized how easily I could carry her weight.  While in my arms, she ran her
fingers over my shoulders and upper arms and just sighed.  I took her head
in a hand, moved her lips to mine and melted her with a kiss.

"I'm in heaven," she murmured.  Then she added, "Fuck me, Jim!  For God's
sake, just fuck me!"

"In due time," I replied softly as I carried her into the bedroom.

Clearly, her optimism hadn't extended to turning down the covers on the bed,
but that was no problem.  Doing that with a woman in my arms was also
included in Jean's course of study.

I pulled down the covers and laid Merrilee out in the middle of the bed.
Spreading her legs, I lifted them up to my shoulders, bringing her cunt
within easy reach of my lips and proceeded to eat her.  As I expected, she
was sweet and lovely, although there was some stubble around her vaginal
lips she had missed with her razor.  Jean and the girls plucked out their
hair so there was no stubble to leave.  Much more painful, but things like
that never registered on either Jean or the girls.

I quickly took her to one orgasm -- that came as an utter shock to her --
and another and another.  All the muscles in her lower body were in spasm;
it was so intense her diaphragm stopped working so I stopped to let her
catch her breath.  When she did, I repeated it, and then again, and again.

Finally she gasped, "No more! God!  No more!  Just fuck me.  Please, darling
Jim, just fuck this cunt!  And that's all I am right now, too.  Just a cunt
that's desperate to have that huge cock of yours driving as deep into it as
you can get.  Now please!" she screamed.

I lowered her legs to bring her cunt down so it was lined up with my cock
and then slowly entered her.  She was tight -- very tight.  But at the same
time, her cunt was flooded with her vaginal juices and her cum, so she was
very wet.  I took a series of small strokes and eventually impaled her on my
full length.

What followed was the fucking of her life.  I played with her tits and bit
on her nipples as I drove in and out.  I moved up and kissed her lips and my
kiss was returned with all the passion the girl could give.  She reached one
orgasm, then another, then a third.

Soon she was at the stage similar to what had happened when I was eating
her: she could no longer breathe.  I eased her down, let her recover, then
did it again... and again... and again.

When she was coherent -- which wasn't very often -- Merrilee would just
scream, "Pound my filthy cunt!  Harder!  Fuck me harder!  I want to feel
that magnificent cock coming out of my mouth!"

I did my best.  By this time, her vaginal walls had loosened sufficiently
for me to be able easily to move in and out my full length.  Clearly, she
wasn't nearly as experienced as I had become, but she was able to find her
cuntal muscles and rhythmically squeezed my cock as I pounded her.

Finally, even my control failed.  I drove deep into her -- all the way --
and exploded.  My explosion triggered Merrilee's ultimate orgasm.  With a
wild scream, she lost consciousness as her cunt worked weakly trying to
extract the last of my essence.

It took a couple of minutes for me to recover, too.  When I did, I got off
the bed, returned to the living room and dressed again.  Returning to the
bedroom I found Merrilee just regaining consciousness.  Her thighs were
still spread wide and our mixed syrup was leaking out of her cunt onto the
bed.

She made no move to cover herself or do anything else.  She just lay there
with her arms and thighs both spread wide, but with the most lovely
expression on her face I had ever seen.  "Thank you, dear Jim," she
whispered.  "In my wildest dreams I never thought of anything like that."
She smiled weakly and added, "My cunt just won the lottery!  It could not
have been any better."

I bent down and kissed her.  Our kiss was truly lovely; it was warm, loving
and utterly passionless.  "Are you going to get up?" I asked as I moved away
from her.

"I'm just going to lie here and enjoy the incredible feeling of your cum
flooding my insides."  Then she looked at me and asked, "Who's Jean, by the
way?  That's the name you screamed when you exploded in me.  And since
phonetically, Jean isn't very close to Merrilee..."

I don't know what I replied, but I left.

When I returned home, I found the three girls in bed together.  Jean's first
words were, "You scored!"

I admitted that I had.

"How was it?" she asked.  "Darling, you've got to tell me all about it!"

While I told her about Merrilee, Susie was working on my cock with her
mouth, first to clean it and then to get it nice and hard again for her
mother.  At the same time, Sandy was using her talented mouth on Jean's
cunt.

"She's not bad at all, Dad," Susie announced.  "Her cunt is really pretty
sweet; not nearly as sweet as Mom's, but pretty sweet."  She paused a moment
and continued, "Of course, no other woman's is, but she's pretty good."
Again she paused, looked off as if trying to identify something, then added,
"There's blood on your cock, too.  Where did that come from?"

"Maybe she just finished her period," I suggested.  Little did I know.

My lovemaking with Jean that night was simply perfect.  It couldn't have
been any better.  Then I realized that -- probably subconsciously -- she was
trying to prove that no other woman could love me the way she could.  Of
course, that was an idea that required no proof at all as far as I was
concerned.  It was a done deal, and had been for months.  She was the
problem, not me.

 * * *

End Part 4 of 9

To be continued --

* * *

Comments and constructive criticism are sincerely welcome.  Let me hear from
you.  morg105829@aol.com

* * *

"Jean & Jim."  Copyright   2001 by Morgan.  <morg105829@aol.com>

All rights reserved.  No part may be reproduced or transmitted in any form
or by any electronic means, including photocopying, recording or by any
information and retrieval system, without the written permission of the
author.

* * *

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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