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From: anais ninja <anais_ninja@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Phoenix Rising - Chapter Eight - Big Time (Ff Mf Fb MFf MMf fb teen inc oral anal preg ws drugs)
Date: Thu, 23 Oct 2003 04:10:02 -0400
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Phoenix Rising
 
 
(c) 2003  Anais Ninja  anais_ninja@hotmail.com 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/index.html 
 
Note:  This is my story.  The names and details have been changed to 
protect the privacy of those involved.  Some of this account has been 
reconstructed from memory, but most of it has been based on a journal I
kept during these years. 
 
This is a sequel to _Exile_, which can be found on my asstr-mirror.org site:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/exile/index.html

 
                             * * * 

 
Chapter Eight - Big Time (Ff Mf Fb MFf MMf fb teen inc oral anal preg
ws drugs) 
 
 
If it had been all a dream, then I was having a dream inside a dream 
now.  I was in the clubhouse locker room again, wearing just the
ruffled tennis panties that Mia had lent me.  There was the sound of
running water coming from the shower, and steam drifted out of there,
wafting over the rows of lockers.  I stepped into the tiled room,
seeing a couple of figures in the fog, one standing, one on his knees. 
I quietly approached, trying to make out their faces. 
 
It was Jean-Paul, standing under the rushing water while David knelt at
his feet, sucking the tennis pro's glistening cock.  I watched, unable 
to speak at first, but somehow I found my voice, unlike most of my 
dreams where I was rendered mute. 
 
"No, you mustn't," I cried out.  "David, no!"  He looked at me and 
smiled, Jean-Paul's hard meat stuffed in his mouth, making his cheek 
bulge. 
 
"He is mine, Anne," Jean-Paul said. 
 
"No, David," I said, rushing to his side, pulling him back from the 
man's groin.  I took Jean-Paul in my mouth instead, licking and sucking
his long veiny shaft, but he began to wilt. 
 
Then we were in the locker room, David lying on one of the benches, his
legs spread, his hard cock bobbing above his crotch.  Jean-Paul was 
behind me, pulling down the tennis panties.  I looked down and saw that
I had a penis, thick like my father's and fully erect.  I squatted over
the bench and pressed it against David's ass, entering him as he
reached up for my breasts. 
 
"Now you are complete," Jean-Paul whispered in my ear.  I could feel
the tip of his cock pushing against my bottom, filling me as I slid
into my stepbrother's tight hole.  He began to thrust, each stroke
pushing me deeper inside of David, as if Jean-Paul was using me, my
body, my cock, to fuck my stepbrother.  I could feel my pleasure
rising, but it was different, not the gradual approach I was used to,
but a quick sensation, not as intense but pleasant all the same.  And
then I was coming inside David's bottom, feeling my semen flow through
my cock, the strangest sensation of all. 
 
And then I woke up. 
 

                            * * *

 
"What are you doing here?" Mia asked me, shaking me awake. 
 
"What?  Where...?"  I wasn't so sure myself.  It had taken a couple of 
days to get used to waking up on the cot in Dana's room, and now I was 
in a strange bed again.  Then I remembered last night, how Mia and my 
father had come home drunk, how they brought me into their bed, how
they made love to me. 
 
"Why are you in our bed?" Mia said. 
 
"You don't remember?"  I looked over at the clock.  It was early but my
father was already gone. 
 
"No, I don't," she said.  "Have you been here all night?" 
 
"Mia, we made love last night," I said.  "My father watched."  I 
couldn't tell her the whole truth, that he'd fucked me while she sat on
my face, and she'd encouraged him to do it. 
 
"We did?" she said.  "My God, I don't remember a thing.  Was I that 
drunk?" 
 
"You were sort of tipsy, yes." 
 
"I hope I didn't hurt the baby," she said, rubbing her belly.  "I'm
only allowed to have one glass of wine." 
 
"I'm sure just one night won't hurt," I said. 
 
"I hope you're right," Mia said, sitting up in bed.  "Ow, shit..." 
 
"What's wrong?" 
 
"My back.  Shit." 
 
"Lie down," I said.  I sat up next to her and caressed her belly. 
 
"Could you get me an aspirin and water?" she asked. 
 
"Sure," I said, getting out of bed.  I scooped my panties up from the 
floor and slipped them on when I got to the bathroom, hoping that Mia 
wouldn't see the traces of my father's semen that had dried on my
cleft.  I found the aspirin and poured a glass of water, bringing these
back to Mia.  She sat up with some difficulty and swallowed two of the
pills, washing them down with the tap water.  Then she laid down again,
a pained expression on her face. 
 
"Anne, could you do me a favor?" 
 
"Sure," I said.  "Anything." 
 
"Would you get the kids ready for school?  I just can't move right
now." 
 
"Of course," I said, kissing her on the forehead.  I left her in the 
bedroom and went to Dana's room, waking her up with a kiss. 
 
"Where were you?" she asked me.  "I wanted to cuddle with you." 
 
"I'm sorry, baby," I said, brushing her curly hair away from her face. 
"I guess I fell asleep on the couch."  She knew I'd slept with both my 
father and Mia, but for some reason I didn't want her to know that I'd 
been in bed with both of them at the same time. 
 
"Annie...," she said, wrapping her arms around me. 
 
"Time to get up for school, baby." 
 
"Where's Mommy?" 
 
"Her back is bothering her, so I'm going to cook breakfast for you and 
Davy, okay?" 
 
"Okay," she said.  She stretched and swung her legs off the bed,
rubbing her eyes and slipping her little feet into her slippers.  I
walked through the bathroom to David's room and slid open the door.  He
was lying on his back, the blankets around his thighs, his beautiful
penis slumbering along his thigh.  If only there was more time.  I
would have loved to wake him up in that special way.  I leaned over and
kissed him, caressing his smooth chest until he awoke. 
 
As the kids washed up, I made breakfast, putting on some coffee for 
myself, whipping up pancakes and sausages for David and Dana.  A few 
minutes later, they entered the kitchen, dressed for school.  I served 
their breakfast and sipped my coffee as I watched them wolf down their 
food.  Afterwards, they put their dishes in the sink and I saw them to 
the door, getting a kiss and a hug from both of them, watching as they 
walked down the street to the bus stop. 
 
I felt like a housewife, puttering around the kitchen in my little 
nightie, cleaning up after the kids, stacking their plates in the 
dishwasher, and I liked it.  Cooking and cleaning for Ramon and my 
stepbrothers sometimes got tiresome, but today felt different, almost
as if David and Dana were my own children.  I made breakfast for Mia, a
cup of decaf instead of the coffee I'd been drinking, and brought it in
to her bedroom on a tray. 
 
"Anne, thank you," she said, slowly sitting up on the bed. 
 
"How's your back?" 
 
"A bit better," she said, pouring syrup on her pancakes. 
 
"Is there anything else I can do for you?" 
 
"That's so sweet of you," she said, taking my hand and squeezing it.  
"Could you draw a bath for me, please?  I think some warm water would 
help." 
 
"I'd be glad to," I said, heading to the bathroom and turning on the 
faucets.  The tub was huge, and would take a while to fill, so I headed
back to the kitchen and had a couple of pancakes and the last sausage 
for breakfast.  Afterwards, I looked in on Mia again and checked the 
tub.  It was only half full.  Mia was done with breakfast, so I took
the tray back to the kitchen and did the dishes.  By the time I was
done, the tub was nearly full.  I helped her from the bed to the
bathroom, seeing her wince as she lowered herself into the tub.  She
picked up the soap and began washing herself. 
 
"Let me do that for you," I said, taking the bar from her hands and 
lathering her creamy skin. 
 
"Thank you, sweetie," she said.  "I remember what we did last night." 
 
"You do?"  I froze, soap in hand. 
 
"Yes," she said. 
 
"You're angry, aren't you." 
 
"No, Anne," she said.  "I'm not.  I think it was my idea." 
 
"It was?" 
 
"I'd rather share him with you than with some stranger he picked up at
a bar." 
 
"Mia...," I said.  She'd surprised me with this attitude of acceptance.
 I had expected jealousy at the very least. 
 
"I've seen the way you look at each other," she said.  "I know what you
did in his den.  You're a very loud girl, Anne." 
 
"He knew about us, too," I said.  "Lean forward so I can do your back."
 
"Thanks.  He mentioned that last night, after he got a couple of drinks
in him.  He said he wanted to watch us make love." 
 
"Well, he got his wish," I said. 
 
"That he did," Mia said.  "Why don't you join me?  There's plenty of 
room." 
 
"Okay," I said, putting down the soap.  I pulled my nightie off over my
head and slipped off the sheer panties, gingerly dipping my toe in the 
water, testing the temperature.  It was nice and warm, not too hot, and
I settled in across from Mia. 
 
"Kiss me," she said, leaning forward, pressing her lips against mine.  
She picked up the bar of soap and lathered my breasts.  I reached for 
hers, running my fingers over her slippery nipples.  She moaned as we 
kissed, and I felt her hands moving lower, down my body, resting
between my legs. 
 
"I need to shave again," I said. 
 
"Let me do that for you, sweetie," she said.  Mia had me sit on the
edge of the tub, spraying shaving cream on my cleft, carefully removing
the light stubble on my mons and labia with a disposable razor.  She
did it slowly, gently, careful not to nick my most delicate parts.  Mia
splashed water on my sex, rinsing off the remnants of shaving cream
from my pussy. 
 
"Thank you," I said. 
 
"Would you do me?" she asked.  "I want to surprise Frank." 
 
"I'd love to," I said.  I helped her up on the edge of the big black 
marble tub and spread shaving cream over her mound and cleft, shaving 
her as carefully as she'd done for me, rinsing the hair off when I was 
done.  She looked beautiful, naked, clean.  I leaned forward and kissed
her bare mons, making her gasp with delight.  Mia had trouble seeing 
over her swollen belly, so I held up a shaving mirror so she could look
at the reflection of her newly shorn sex. 
 
"This is going to itch, isn't it?" she asked me. 
 
"Not if you moisturize," I said.  "That's the fun part."  We laughed, 
rinsed off our soapy skin, and emerged from the tub, gently drying off 
each other.  Then we climbed into her bed with a bottle of skin lotion,
rubbing the moisturizer into each other's newly shaven parts.  It
turned into more than just the application of lotion, though, much
more.  Our busy fingers sought out each other's secret pearl, soft
voices singing a duet of pleasure. 
 
"I'm going to love having you around, Annie," Mia whispered as I rubbed
lotion into her big round belly and swollen breasts.  "Especially when 
the baby is born." 
 
"I don't know if I'll be here for that," I said. 
 
"What do you mean?" 
 
"I mean I've decided to stay in Boston, at least until this summer." 
 
"Why?  You know we'd love to have you move in right away." 
 
"I know, and I appreciate that, but I'm going to go to a very good 
school up in Boston, one that will help me get into a good college.  I 
missed a whole year of classes and I think I should make up for it." 
 
"This school is that good?" Mia asked. 
 
"It is," I replied.  "Forty percent of its graduates go on to the Ivy 
League." 
 
"That is good," Mia said.  "The schools here are okay, but I would love
to have the kids to go to a private school.  I wish we could afford 
that." 
 
"So you understand?" 
 
"I do," Mia said, kissing me on the forehead.  "You're a bright young 
girl and it's good that you're thinking of your future.  You can spend 
the summer with us.  We'll have fun.  By then we should be in a bigger 
house with a swimming pool." 
 
"Thanks," I said, kissing her on the lips. 
 
"Does your father know?" 
 
"I haven't told him what I've decided yet." 
 
"He's going to be upset," Mia said. 
 
"I'll break it to him gently," I said.  "We're going camping tomorrow, 
and I think I'll tell him then." 
 
"Right, camping," she said.  "I hope you have fun.  I never cared for 
sleeping in the open." 
 
"I've never been camping," I said, "except for one night in the
backyard in Maine with my stepbrothers." 
 
"That must have been fun, the three of you in a tent, right?" 
 
"It was," I said. 
 
"Tell me, did you sleep with your stepfather, too?"  I'd told Mia about
making love with my stepbrothers, so I guess she drew her own 
conclusions. 
 
"Yes, I did.  After my mother died, he was so sad..." 
 
"Poor baby," Mia said, putting her arm around me and drawing me close
to her warm body.  "Annie, I have to ask you something." 
 
"Anything," I said.  I felt so close to her then. 
 
"Have you done anything with David?" 
 
"Yes," I replied.  I couldn't lie to her. 
 
"And Dana?" 
 
"Yes," I said.  "You must think I'm horrible." 
 
"No, Anne.  I don't."  Mia held me tight, her lips on my neck, my
cheek, nibbling my ear.  "You're just like your father, insatiable. 
Before we were married we lived in an awful little apartment in Tempe,
near the university.  He couldn't keep his hands off of me, all day,
every day, from the moment he woke up until just before we went to
sleep.  Five, six times a day, easily.  Sometimes I'd catch him in the
bathroom, jerking off on the toilet with a magazine in his lap.  He
couldn't help himself.  It was like he was wired that way, always
horny, always erect.  We couldn't drive an hour without him having to
pull over so I could suck him.  I was almost happy when he got me
pregnant, at least at first.  I could get some work done without having
him come into my office and take me on the couch." 
 
"And I'm my father's daughter," I said. 
 
"You are your father's daughter," Mia said.  We kissed again, our 
tongues meeting, sparring, tip swirling over tip.  I heard footsteps in
the hall and suddenly the door opened.  A young woman in a plain light 
blue uniform dress with a white apron stood in the doorway, fresh linen
in her hand. 
 
"Excuse me," she said.  "Sorry Senora Mercer, sorry, sorry."  The 
housekeeper blushed and backed out of the room as we burst out
laughing. 
 
"I guess I should get up," Mia said, reaching for her robe.  "In five 
minutes every housekeeper in the neighborhood will know what she saw." 
Mia moved slowly, carefully, but I could tell her back was better; she 
wasn't wincing from the pain. 
 
I climbed out of bed and grabbed my nightie from the bathroom, not 
bothering to put it on again.  The housekeeper had already seen me
naked in bed with Mia.  There was no point.  I walked into Dana's room
to get dressed and there she was, the housekeeper, changing the sheets
on Dana's bed.  She turned and looked me up and down, smiling. 
 
"Como se llama?" I asked her. 
 
"Maria," she replied.  She was young, barely past eighteen, short and 
slightly plump, but pretty, very pretty, with big brown eyes, high 
cheekbones, and long dark hair braided into a single thick pigtail. 
 
"Maria, me llamo Anne," I said, extending my hand.  She took it and 
gently squeezed it. 
 
"Anita," she said. 
 
"Maria, no hable de este, por favor," I said in my broken Spanish, 
tilting my head in the direction of Mia's bedroom. 
 
"I will not talk of that to anyone," she said.  "I promise you." 
 
"Thank you," I said, gently squeezing her arm. 
 
"De nada," she replied, heading into David's room to change his sheets.
 

I got dressed, sweatshirt and sweatpants, and headed into the kitchen 
for another cup of coffee.  Mia had a meeting with a client that day, 
and had to take Dana to dance class, so I was on my own until the 
afternoon, nothing to do except walk the dog.  I decided to spend the 
morning at the clubhouse, swimming in the pool, so I put on my string 
bikini, wearing my denim miniskirt and a white peasant blouse over
that. 
 
The pool was empty, as I'd expected on a weekday morning.  I tied my 
hair back into a ponytail, swam a few laps, took a dive off the high 
board, and then settled down on one of the lounge chairs to read.  It 
was cool outside, mid-sixties, but much warmer inside the pool house 
with the bright Arizona sun shining through the glass walls and
ceiling. 
 
I heard footsteps and looked up from my book, seeing an older man in a 
short yellow terrycloth robe and flip-flops enter the pool house.  He 
doffed his robe, placing it on a chair on the other side of the pool 
from where I was lying, and dove into the water, swimming the length of
the pool, back and forth, touching the edge and kicking off from the 
side, reversing his direction.  I went returned to my reading -- I was 
half way through _Fear of Flying_ -- and a few minutes later he
emerged, water dripping from his skin, matting his graying body hair. 
He picked up a towel and dried himself, sitting down when he was done. 
 
I glanced at him over my paperback.  He was reading a magazine, licking
his thumb to turn the pages.  Late fifties, maybe early sixties, a
thick head of graying hair, broad barrel-shaped chest, a bit of
thickness at the waist, deeply tanned skin.  I figured him for one of
the retirees who owned about half of the homes here.  Every so often
he'd glance over the top of his magazine at me and smile. 
 
"Water's nice today," he called out across the pool. 
 
"Yes, it is." 
 
"Aren't you going in?" 
 
"I just got out," I said, swinging my head so he could see my wet 
ponytail. 
 
"I'll bet you're a good swimmer," he said. 
 
"I'm okay, I guess." 
 
"I'll bet I could beat you." 
 
"Beat me?" 
 
"In a race," he chuckled. 
 
"Oh, a race," I said.  "I thought you meant with your fists." 
 
"Heh, no.  How about it?  Loser buys lunch?" 
 
I thought about it for a moment; I was hungry, and I hadn't had time to
eat a proper meal after getting the kids ready for school and making 
breakfast in bed for Mia.  He was a good swimmer, but not as fast as
me.  What the hell, all I had to lose was a few bucks for a sandwich at
the clubhouse cafe. 
 
"You're on," I said, putting my book aside.  We walked to the end of
the pool, opposite the side with the diving boards. 
 
"Jack," he said, extending his hand. 
 
"Anne," I said, taking his hand and shaking it. 
 
"Four laps, back and forth." 
 
"Sounds good," I said.  I stretched my arms and legs and took a deep 
breath, standing at the edge of the pool, my toes curled over the side.
 
"Ready?" 
 
"Ready," I replied. 
 
"Set...go!"  He dived into the pool, and I followed him a split-second 
later.  Jack had a two yard lead on me, but I closed the gap after the 
first lap.  I was a faster swimmer, but he had a powerful kick, and we 
were neck-and-neck for the first two laps.  By the end of the third, 
though, I'd pulled away, and I finished the final lap a good six or 
seven seconds before he did.  We clung to the side of the pool,
catching our breath, and he held out his hand again. 
 
"Congratulations," he said.  "You're an excellent swimmer." 
 
"Thank you," I said, climbing out of the pool.  He followed me up the 
steel ladder. 
 
"Guess I owe you lunch." 
 
"That's okay," I said.  "You don't have to." 
 
"Please, I always keep my word," Jack said.  "Besides, I think dining 
with a gorgeous girl like you should be my consolation prize." 
 
"Well, okay," I said, blushing.  "You can buy me a burger at the cafe."
 
"Deal," he said.  We dried off and headed for the snack bar, but it was
closed, a sign on the door saying that it was only open Friday through 
Sunday.  The thought of a nice juicy hamburger made my stomach growl. 
 
"Tell you what," Jack said.  "Let's go back to my place and I'll whip 
something up, okay?" 
 
"Sure," I said.  Jack wrapped his robe around my shoulders and we
walked a few blocks to his house, one of the newer ones.  It was
sparsely furnished, as if he'd just moved in.  There was a backhoe and
other construction equipment in the back yard, and a deep gash in the
lawn. 
 
"I'm having a pool installed," Jack said, opening the refrigerator and 
peering inside, pulling out a plastic container.  "Hope you don't mind 
potato soup.  I'm on a bland diet because of my ulcers." 
 
"No, that's fine," I said.  "Would you mind if I used your shower? 
They put too much chlorine in that pool." 
 
"Not at all, not at all," he said.  "Bathroom's upstairs, there should 
be fresh towels in the hall closet.  Make yourself at home, Anne." 
 
"Thanks," I said, heading upstairs.  The bathroom was a room off of his
bedroom, also barely furnished, not much more than a bed, a dresser,
and a small night stand.  I was surprised to see that he had a
waterbed.  Carrie, Bradley and Helen's daughter, had one as well, but
after she moved in with her boyfriend in New York, Helen had it
dismantled and replaced with a queen-sized mattress and box spring.  It
leaked, and was just too much trouble to maintain.  I sat on Jack's
bed, feeling it undulate beneath my bottom. 
 
After a quick shower, I put on my blouse and skirt, though I'd
forgotten to bring panties to wear.  Guess I'll just have to keep my
legs crossed, I thought to myself.  I headed back downstairs to the
kitchen.  Jack was stirring the soup with a wooden spoon. 
 
"Where can I put my wet suit?" I asked him. 
 
"There's a chair on the patio," he replied.  "Just put it next to
mine." 
 
"Thanks," I said, heading out to the back yard.  I laid my wet bikini
on a painted wooden deck chair, next to his wet swim trunks and went
back inside. 
 
"Just about ready," he said.  There were two places set at the kitchen 
table, hand-painted ceramic bowls, a loaf of black bread, and a tub of 
margarine.  I sat down and Jack ladled the soup into my bowl. 
 
"Smells good," I said. 
 
"Thanks," Jack replied.  "Made it myself.  Help yourself to some
bread." 
 
The soup was good, though just a bit bland.  Jack talked about how he 
loved spicy food, and how hard it had been to give it up, even harder 
than it had been to stop smoking.  He offered me a glass of white wine,
something he wasn't supposed to have himself, but a half glass a day
was his only transgression. 
 
"So, you're retired?" I asked him. 
 
"Semi-retired." 
 
"What do you do?" 
 
"I'm a producer," Jack said.  "Movies.  I own a production company in 
LA, Jalapeno Films." 
 
"What kind of movies?" I asked him. 
 
"You don't want to know." 
 
"Tell me," I said. 
 
"Adult movies," Jack said, sounding slightly embarrassed.  "You know, 
porno." 
 
"Wow, cool," I said.  "I made a movie once." 
 
"You did?" 
 
"Yeah, last year," I replied.  "But the guy got busted." 
 
"You made a...?"  I thought Jack was going to choke on his bread. 
 
"It was supposed to be called 'Punk Rock Hookers'." 
 
"No shit," Jack said, looking at me with a different expression.  "What
was it, soft core?" 
 
"Soft core?" 
 
"You know, simulated sex, no hard cocks, no close-up beaver shots." 
 
"No, this was real," I said.  "Me and two boys.  They played in a punk 
band and I was sort of a groupie type.  That's why it was called 'Punk 
Rock Hookers'."  I finished my soup and took a sip of wine. 
 
"And this guy who made it, he got busted?" 
 
"Yeah, Cecil his name was," I said.  "He tried to edit it at school. 
He was a grad student." 
 
"Dumbass," Jack muttered.  "How old were you?" 
 
"Fourteen." 
 
"No wonder," he said.  "When was this?" 
 
"Last year." 
 
"You're only fifteen?" 
 
"Yes," I said.  "How old did you think I was?" 
 
"I don't know, seventeen?  Eighteen?" 
 
"Nope," I said.  "How old are you?" 
 
"Fifty-nine," Jack said. 
 
"Married?" 
 
"Divorced." 
 
"Sorry," I said. 
 
"Yeah, it was pretty tough," he replied.  "She caught me in my office 
with one of my actresses, Amber O'Toole.  Not her real name, of
course." 
 
"That's a shame," I said. 
 
"Eh, what can you do, right?" 
 
"So, do you have any of your movies here?," I said.  "I'd love to see 
one." 
 
"You're a bit young for that sort of thing, don't you think?" 
 
"I did star in one," I said. 
 
"I wouldn't feel right..." 
 
"Please?" I said, giving him my best pleading look, eyes wide, lips set
in a pout, head tilted just so. 
 
"Okay, fine," he relented.  "Let me clean up the dishes first." 
 
"I'll do that," I said.  "You can set up the projector or whatever it 
is." 
 
"Video," Jack said, getting up from the table.  "It's all going on
video these days.  Used to be we'd run through forty, fifty thousand
dollars worth of film stock, and spend just as much at the lab, getting
it developed, color corrected, printed.  Now we spend a fraction of
that amount on tape."  He left the kitchen, heading for the living
room.  I heard the sound of a television being turned on, the
high-pitched whine of the picture tube warming up, white noise as he
tuned to an unused channel, the clunk of a video cassette slipping into
the player.  I washed our lunch dishes and joined him on the couch,
handing him his wine glass. 
 
"Ready?" Jack said. 
 
"Yes." 
 
"Here we go," he said, pressing a button on a small device that was 
connected to the videotape recorder by a long black cable.  The tape 
deck was just like the one Cecil had bought, with the word "U-MATIC" in
silver letters on the door that covered the tape slot.  The player 
whirred to life, and multi-colored bars appeared on the screen, a high-
pitched tone coming from the two speakers that flanked the large-screen
television.  Jack hit another button and fast-forwarded to the
beginning of the movie. 
 
"What are those things on the bottom of the picture?" I asked him.  
There was a series of numbers superimposed on the bottom of the screen,
separated by colons, the last couple of digits moving so fast that I 
couldn't read them. 
 
"Time code," Jack replied.  "Hours, minutes, seconds, frames.  It's how
we catalog the footage and mark the edit points." 
 
"Oh, I see." 
 
"Here it comes," he said, pressing the play button on the remote. 
There was a shot of a woman on a couch, reading a paperback, with the
words "HORNY HOUSEWIFE XII" splashed across the screen in big yellow
letters.  The woman was gorgeous, with long platinum blonde hair, and
enormous breasts that spilled out of her skimpy dress.  "Here's my
name," Jack said, as the title changed to "PRODUCED BY JACK HOFF". 
 
"That's your name?," I asked him.  "Jack Hoff?" 
 
"It's really 'Hoffman'," he said.  "I changed it." 
 
"That's really funny."  His name faded out, replaced by "STARRING AMBER
O'TOOLE".  "So that's her?" I asked him. 
 
"Yep." 
 
"She's beautiful.  Why isn't she a star?" 
 
"She is a star, Anne." 
 
"You know what I mean," I said. 
 
"Why isn't she starring in a non-adult film?" Jack said.  "Keep
watching and you'll find out."  The credits ended and the wah-wah
guitar soundtrack faded into the background.  There was the soft chime
of a doorbell and Amber put her book down to answer the door.  A tall
young man in a grimy pair of overalls stood in the doorway, holding a
toolbox. 
 
"Did you call for a plumber, ma'am?" he said, sounding like he was 
reading his lines from a card offstage. 
 
"Yeah, come on in," she replied.  As soon as she opened her mouth and 
spoke, I knew why she'd never do anything but porn movies.  Amber had a
squeaky, high-pitched voice and a thick Boston accent, pronouncing the 
word "on" like "ahwn", and adding an "W" to the end of "Yeah,
stretching it into two syllables: "Ye-ahw". 
 
"I see what you mean," I said to Jack. 
 
"It's not like she didn't try," he said.  "She had a voice coach and 
everything." 
 
We sat and sipped our wine as the movie rolled on, watching as the man,
played by Billy Long, followed Amber into the kitchen, stuck his head 
under the sink, taking no longer than ten seconds to fix her pipes.  
Then it was her turn to fix his pipe.  She wasted no time in stripping 
off his uniform and sinking to her knees, taking his huge cock in her 
mouth, moaning as she hungrily sucked his member.  He reached down and 
freed her ample bosom from her dress, kneading her tits with his hands.
 
Soon she was draped across the kitchen table while he pounded her 
snatch, making her breasts jiggle like Jello brand gelatin dessert. 
I'd seen a few porn movies before, grainy 8mm films that Cecil had
shown me, as well as some better produced 16mm films that Bradley had
brought home to watch with Helen and me in their bedroom.  They all had
a certain sameness to them, bad acting, cheesy dialogue, and the sex,
which was the whole point of these movies, had a mechanical quality to
it, as if the whole film could be reduced to a close-up of a cock
inside a cunt and it wouldn't make much of a difference. 
 
Still, seeing Amber get pumped by Billy on the table had an effect on 
me, and I crossed and re-crossed my legs as I sat on the couch next to 
Jack, unable to keep from pressing my thighs together, feeling a hunger
growing in my belly.  I could tell that Jack was sort of getting off, 
too, not so much from the movie, which he no doubt had seen many times,
from shooting to editing, but from the fact that he was watching this
in the presence of a teenage girl, one who might have seemed innocent
on the surface but had actually made a film like this once.  He kept 
glancing over at me as I watched the movie, his arm draped across the 
back of the couch, barely inches from my shoulder. 
 
I reached back and took Jack's hand, placing it on my shoulder and 
moving closer to him.  He gently caressed my arm, moving his hand up to
the cap sleeve of my peasant blouse and tugging it off of my shoulder, 
his fingers lightly grazing my neck.  I looked over at him and smiled, 
placing my hand on his bare thigh, running my fingers under the hem of 
his short terrycloth robe. 
 
"You like the movie?" he asked me. 
 
"Yes, I do," I said, slowly moving my hand higher until I felt the tip 
of his semi-erect penis laying along his hairy thigh.  My fingers
danced over his shaft and he began to stiffen.  Jack reached down and
untied his robe. 
 
"Damn, you're huge," I said, seeing his cock for the first time.  And
he wasn't even fully erect.  Jack's cock was long, thick, circumcised,
with a fat mushroom head. 
 
"That's how I broke into this business," Jack said. 
 
"You starred in these movies?" 
 
"Years ago," he replied.  "Got out of the Navy in '46, couldn't find 
work.  I answered an ad in the paper and that was that.  Would you like
to see one of my old movies?" 
 
"Yes, please." 
 
"Be back in a second," he said, getting up from the couch and rummaging
through a hall closet.  He brought out a box of tapes, stopping Amber 
and Billy in mid-thrust and ejecting their tape.  He slotted a new one,
and hit the play button. 
 
"I had some of my old loops transferred to tape," Jack said, shrugging 
off his robe.  His huge cock bobbed in front of him as he walked back
to the couch and sat down.  I took off my top and slipped out of my
skirt, sitting next to him again and stroking his thick, veiny shaft
while I watched the film begin.  Jack put his arm around me again, his
hand resting on my breast. 
 
They were old films, grainy black and white, with streaks and spots
that zipped up the screen.  No credits, no soundtrack, no dialog, just
a young Jack and a woman with a bobbed hairdo on a bed.  Her breasts 
looked pointy, as if they'd been molded in that shape by one of those 
old bullet-shaped bras.  Jack played with her breasts for a minute and 
then she leaned into his crotch and began to suck his cock. 
 
"Margaret Del Rio," Jack said, a distant look on his face.  "Used to 
date President Reagan, she did." 
 
"Wow," I said, trying to picture her with the pompadoured ex-actor. 
Her bobbed head bobbed up and down in Jack's lap, and then he pushed
her on her back and mounted her.  It was hard to see what was going on,
and the camera didn't zoom in for a genital close-up, but I could see
she was having a good time as Jack pounded her hairy snatch.  At least
she was acting like she was enjoying it. 
 
"Damn, she was a vixen," Jack said wistfully.  "She must be seventy 
years old now."  I gently squeezed his cock and leaned over, kissing
the tip of his fat glans, keeping one eye on the television screen. 
Jack gasped as I tried to  engulf his penis with my mouth, caressing my
back as I began to suck him. 
 
I began to moan like Amber had, just because I thought it was something
Jack expected.  He must have liked it, because I could feel him start
to twitch in my mouth, his big hairy balls contracting in my hand as I 
cupped and fondled them.  His breathing grew heavier and I heard him 
groan as he began to erupt in my mouth.  Expecting a huge amount of 
semen, I clamped my lips around his throbbing organ, swirling my tongue
over his fat cockhead, but after a couple of hot spurts of cum there 
were just a few dribbles.  He began to soften almost immediately, and 
after I cleaned him with my tongue I released him from my lips, letting
his softening penis fall to his thigh. 
 
"I wish I was forty years younger," Jack said, holding me close. 
 
"I like you the way you are," I said, running my hand over the grey
hair that covered his chest. 
 
"Sweet of you to say that," he said, kissing me on the cheek.  "You
like older men?" 
 
"Older, younger, I don't care," I said.  "You were handsome back then, 
and I think you're really handsome now."  I watched his younger self on
the video, pounding Miss Del Rio from behind, pulling out of her pussy 
so she could suck him to completion, jerking his cock until he spurted 
his seed all over her pointy knockers. 
 
"Would you like to go upstairs?" Jack said. 
 
"I'd really like that."  He stood up and led me by the hand, up to his
bedroom. 
 
"Let me look at you, sweetheart," he said, sitting on the edge of the 
bed.  I stood before him, letting him touch me, his hands roaming over 
my breasts and belly, my bottom and thighs, his fingers grazing my 
freshly shaved cunny.  Finally, Jack leaned forward and kissed my
tummy, cupping my bottom in his hands.  I ran my fingers through his
thick grey hair, enjoying the way he touched me. 
 
"Lay down for me, Anne," he whispered.  I climbed into bed next to him,
laying my head on his pillow.  He hovered over me, kissing me on the 
lips for the first time.  I expected him to be aggressive with his 
tongue, but he wasn't, and I had to seek it out with my own.  He broke 
off our kiss and brushed my blonde hair away from my neck, kissing me 
there, nibbling my earlobe, planting more kisses on my shoulder and my 
collarbone before lingering on my breasts, teasing my nipples with his 
lips, sending an electric sensation through me that shot straight to my
sex. 
 
Jack's lips began to shift lower on my body, over my ribs and belly, 
passing over my cleft to my knees and thighs.  I spread my legs for
him, eager to feel him kiss me between my legs, but he teased me,
kissing my belly and hip bones, then my thighs again, purposely
avoiding my hungry slit. 
 
"I hope you don't have to be somewhere else," Jack said.  "It takes me
a while to get hard again." 
 
"That's alright," I said.  "This is where I want to be right now." 
 
"Just what I wanted to hear," he said, smiling.  Then he ducked his
head between my legs, kissing my nether lips, his tongue parting them, 
probing my cleft, seeking my moisture and teasing my pearl from its 
hooded lair.  I squeezed his freckled shoulders as he began to lick me,
and his tongue felt as long as his cock, filling me, pleasuring me, 
making me squirm on the rippling bed.  I rocked my hips, feeling the 
waves move up my back and then down, reflecting off of the side of the 
waterbed. 
 
"Jack...yes...yes...," I moaned, for real this time, not the simulated 
cries of an actress.  He cupped my bottom and drew me closer, drinking 
from my chalice, his long, pointy tongue lashing my clit.  A girl could
get used to this, I thought, closing my eyes and picturing myself on
the set of one of his movies, being taken by him on Amber's kitchen
table, with real lights, real cameras, professionals watching and
filming our every move instead of an amateur like Cecil. 
 
Jack began to lick me faster, squeezing my ass, his tongue curling into
a cylinder and pressing into my passage.  I felt the tip rubbing the
top wall of my cunny, my special spot, that sensitive area that only
fingers or cocks could reach.  It was as if he knew about this, knew
exactly what I wanted to feel, and I began to come, my whole body
shaking, sending more ripples through the bed.  He began to ravish my
button again, pushing me off another peak, a second climax, and I
rocked my hips back and forth, humping his expert tongue.  I tugged at
his shoulder, letting him know that I wanted to feel him inside me. 
Jack released his hold on my bottom, crawling up the bed and laying
next to me. 
 
"That was wonderful," I whispered, running my hand over his chest, 
moving lower, down his belly, taking his flaccid cock in my hand and 
gently squeezing it. 
 
"I could tell you liked it," Jack said, smiling and sticking out his 
tongue.  I lunged for it, sucking it into my mouth, swirling my tongue 
over it as if it was a penis.  He pulled me on top of him, his hands 
stroking my back and bottom as we kissed. 
 
"Let me make you hard again," I cooed.  "I want to feel you inside me."
 
"Give it a try," he said.  "It might take a while.  I'm not a spring 
chicken anymore." 
 
I slithered down his body like a snake, planting a trail of kisses
every couple of inches, curling up between his legs.  First I gave the
tip of his cock a tender kiss, gently lifting it and licking the
muscular ridge on the underside, nuzzling his hairy balls, sucking them
into my mouth.  Then I engulfed his soft penis in my mouth, all the way
to the base, something I wouldn't have been able to do if he was hard. 
I felt him begin to stir and engorge, his blood flowing into his
member, making it beat in my mouth as if it had a heart.  I swirled my
tongue over his shaft, tracing every vein and bump, up to his fleshy
glans.  Jack let out a soft moan as he began to harden between my lips.
 
I started stroking his shaft, bathing the tip of his cock with my 
tongue, cradling his heavy nuts in my fingers.  When I probed his crack
with my fingertip, his hips began to move, sending slow ripples through
the bed.  He was halfway there, and I started to moan for him, letting 
him know how much I loved his cock, how much I desired him, wanted to 
please him, to feel him inside me. 
 
"That's it, sweetheart," Jack murmured.  "We're getting there."  He was
almost fully erect but I didn't stop sucking him, even though he was 
hard enough to enter me.  I wanted to worship his thick pole some more,
to moan as I swirled my tongue over his fat cockhead, to be his little 
porn star, not stopping until he was throbbing.  Finally, I released
him from my mouth, giving his glans another kiss, moving up from
between his legs to straddle his hips, rubbing the tip of his cock over
my wet labia. 
 
"Shit," I said, just as I was about to guide him inside me. 
 
"What's wrong?" 
 
"I'm not wearing my diaphragm," I said.  I was going to put it in after
I went swimming, and I hadn't expected to meet someone at the pool. 
 
"Don't worry," he said, pressing upwards with his hips.  "Vasectomy." 
 
"Really?" 
 
"Yup, got snipped years ago," he said. 
 
"That's the best news I've heard in all day," I said, slowly lowering 
myself on to his hard meat, feeling him enter me, open me, fill me.  
Jack reached up and cupped my breasts, flicking his thumbs over my
stiff nipples.  As I began to slide up and down on his pole, he held my
bottom, guiding my rhythm, setting the pace of our coupling.  He felt 
huge inside me, and even though I never really cared about the size of
a man's penis, Jack's mighty cock satisfied me in ways I'd never felt 
before.  Almost immediately I felt that tingling in my belly, that heat
between my legs, as his thick veiny shaft wormed in and out of my
hungry cunny. 
 
I collapsed to his chest and swiveled my hips, stirring my honeypot
with his big stick, savoring the feeling of his fleshy cockhead
dragging over my secret spot, the way the base of his shaft opened me
at the bottom of every stroke.  Jack caressed my back, moving his hips
in time with mine.  The waterbed didn't allow him much in the way of
leverage, so it was up to me to thrust for both of us.  I didn't mind
this at all.  I wanted to keep it nice and slow, savoring the feeling
of his wonderful tool inside me, wanting it to last forever. 
 
Even so, as I felt my pleasure begin to rise, I began to hump him 
faster, with shorter strokes, quicker movements, seeking just the right
combination of speed and depth that would push me over the edge.  Jack 
put his hands on my bottom again, squeezing my cheeks, urging me to 
speed up slightly.  I began to move even faster, making our thighs slap
together with every stroke.  He began to twitch inside me, and I knew
he was getting close, so I closed my eyes and imagined a camera crew
around us, hot lights, the bedroom merely a set on a sound stage.  That
was just what I needed to reach my climax, and I began to come, nearly 
screaming as his cock pumped my needy hole.  Jack smiled as he heard my
cries, guiding me up and down on his hardness, rocking his hips with 
each thrust, his fingers digging into my flesh. 
 
I thought he was close, but he wasn't, and as I reached a second,
higher peak of pleasure I clenched myself around his thick shaft,
hoping to feel him spurt his seed inside me while I was still in the
throes of my orgasm, something I loved to feel.  Jack gasped when he
felt my muscles contract, and I felt his cock begin to spasm in my
passage, a feeling of warmth spreading through my sex as his semen
gushed into my cleft.  I felt him begin to soften as soon as he came,
and I slowed my movements, hoping he wouldn't slip out of me right
away.  I laid my head on his chest and let out a sigh, listening to his
breathing and the beating of his heart. 
 
"Where'd you learn to do things like that?" Jack asked me, gently 
caressing my hair. 
 
"Things like what?" 
 
"That thing you did with your pussy, the squeezing thing," he said.  
"And that blow-job you gave me.  I never get hard that fast." 
 
"I guess I've had some good teachers," I said.  "That squeezing thing I
learned from a magazine, Cosmopolitan, I think.  I used to practice it 
with a dildo."  Jack chuckled at that and kissed me on the cheek.  His 
laughter made his cock slip out of me, so I rolled off of him and 
snuggled up against his warm body. 
 
"Some boy must be very lucky to have a sexy girlfriend like you," Jack 
said. 
 
"I don't have a boyfriend right now," I said.  "I did, but now he won't
talk to me."  I realized that I still felt bitter over Brad's silent 
treatment. 
 
"Sounds like a cad to me," he said.  "A bounder."  Now it was my turn
to laugh. 
 
"Tell me, Jack," I said, "do you think I could be in one of your movies
someday?" 
 
"You don't want to do that, Annie." 
 
"Why not?" 
 
"It's not that you're not sexy.  You are," Jack said.  "And it's not 
that you're not pretty.  You're very pretty.  A beautiful young woman. 
But starring in one of my movies isn't something you want to do.  It's 
not a choice you want to make.  The girls I work with didn't come to 
Hollywood to fuck for the camera in a rented house in the Valley.  They
all came to become starlets, singers, dancers, and not the exotic kind 
of dancing, either.  Take Amber, for example.  She couldn't even get a 
spot on a feminine hygiene deodorant commercial, and it wasn't for lack
of trying.  When I met her she was waiting tables at a chop house, down
to her last fifty dollars, just about to take the bus back to Cape
Cod." 
 
"Really?" 
 
"Yeah, and that's not all.  It's hard work, demanding work, three hours
under the lights to shoot enough footage for a ten minute segment, and 
that's if nothing goes wrong.  And Amber looks like she's having fun, 
but she's miserable, on camera and off.  You know where she is right 
now?" 
 
"Where?" 
 
"She's in detox, Anne, a private place in Palm Springs, her third 
thirty-day program in the last two years.  Amber likes her pills, and 
she drinks like a fucking fish.  Right before she ended up back in
detox she got drunk on the set and threw up all over Tony Thicke's
schlong.  Now his agent won't even return my calls, which really screws
me over because I wanted to feature him with Amber, with Dani Lamour,
with Tina Martin.  The kid's a real fucking machine and now his agent
wouldn't piss on me if I was on fire." 
 
"I'm sorry to hear that," I said, kissing him on the cheek. 
 
"Hey, you and me both, kid."  Jack put his arm around me, giving me a 
gentle hug.  "I know it sounds trite, but you should stay in school, go
to a good college, get a decent job so you won't have to earn a living 
on your back." 
 
"That's what I hope to do," I said. 
 
"Good, that's great," he said.  "How come I never saw you around
before?  Did you just move here?" 
 
"I'm just visiting," I replied.  "I live in Boston, but my father's
here with his family." 
 
"I see, I see," Jack said.  "How long are you here for?  I'd love to
see you again." 
 
"I'd like that, but I go back on Sunday." 
 
"Too bad," Jack said, kissing my forehead.  "I'm flying out to Palm 
Springs tomorrow to see Amber.  She's going to be released on
Saturday." 
 
"Well, I'll be back, maybe for spring break, maybe this summer, too." 
 
"Great," Jack said, hugging me again.  "Something to look forward to." 
 
"Me, too," I said, reaching for his flaccid penis and giving it a
gentle squeeze.  "I've got to get back to the house." 
 
"Yeah, just fuck me and run," Jack laughed.  I gave his cock another 
playful squeeze and kissed him on the lips before getting out of bed.  
My clothes were downstairs, on the floor by the living room couch.  As
I stood up, I could feel Jack's semen start to drip down my leg. 
 
"Damn," I said, running to the bathroom for some toilet paper. 
 
"What's the matter, sweetheart?" 
 
"I forgot to wear panties when I left the house." 
 
"You sound like a porn star already," Jack said.  "Here, I've got some 
for you."  I wiped his cum from my thigh and returned to the bedroom.  
Jack had opened a dresser drawer; it was filled with lingerie. 
 
"You wear these?" I said, pulling a tiny red heart-shaped g-string 
trimmed with white marabou from the drawer.  I tried not to laugh as I 
pictured Jack in this frilly confection, his hairy balls hanging out of
the tiny panties. 
 
"Jeez, Annie.  You think that would fit me?  No, this is Amber's stuff.
 She stays out here with me sometimes." 
 
"Wouldn't she mind someone else wearing her undies?" I asked him. 
 
"Take what you want," Jack said.  "Hell, I bought it all for her.  She 
won't even notice what's missing." 
 
"Thanks," I said.  "I just need a pair of panties.  I can bring them 
back later." 
 
"Don't worry about that," he said.  "Think of it as a souvenir." 
 
I rummaged through the drawer, trying to find something that wasn't a
g- string or crotchless, neither of which would keep Jack's semen from 
dripping down my leg as I walked home.  I thought about putting my wet 
bikini bottoms on when I found something made of cotton at the bottom
of the drawer.  I pulled it out, and it wasn't much more than a
g-string, but the back was wider and there was enough coverage over the
crotch to suffice for my immediate needs.  While Jack disappeared into
the bathroom to empty his bladder, I stepped into the tiny panties and 
pulled them up my thighs.  The front covered about as much as a string 
bikini would, but the back was tiny, exposing my cheeks.  I turned 
around and looked in the mirror on the closet door. 
 
"It's a good look for you," Jack said, patting my nearly bare bottom.  
"Amber called it a 'thing' or a 'thong' or something.  Big in Brazil,
she says." 
 
"Feels weird," I said. 
 
"She also calls it 'butt floss'." 
 
"I can see why."  There was a thin strip of material running between my
cheeks, though not as thin as a g-string's ribbon.  Jack and I shared 
another kiss in front of the mirror and then we headed back downstairs.
 I got dressed, finished my wine, and grabbed my wet swim suit from the
patio, giving Jack one more kiss before I left.  He pulled on his robe 
and saw me to the door, reaching into his pocket for his wallet and 
pulling out a card. 
 
"Listen, if you're ever in L.A., give me a call," he said.  "We'll have
dinner or something, and I'll take you on the set of one of my movies. 
You can see for yourself what a pain in the ass they are to shoot." 
 
"Thanks, Jack," I said, taking the card.  "I hope everything goes well 
with Amber." 
 
"Sweet of you to say that," he said, leaning over to kiss me on the 
cheek, a fatherly kiss, not the kiss of a lover.  "Stay in school, 
Annie.  Promise me that, willya?" 
 
"I promise."  I took his hand and squeezed it, heading down the
walkway, waving when I got to the sidewalk. 
 
I arrived home a few minutes later.  Mia still wasn't home, neither was
Dana, but the door to David's bedroom was closed.  I headed into Dana's
bedroom, intending to change out of Amber's thong, but by now I was 
getting used to the feeling of the thin strip of cotton between my 
cheeks, and there was something naughty about wearing tiny panties that
belonged to a porn star.  I kept them on and took my bathing suit into 
the bathroom, hanging it over the shower curtain pole. 
 
That's when I heard it, a woman's voice coming from David's room.  She 
was moaning, almost crying, repeating something over and over. 
Quietly, I slid open the door that led from the bathroom to his bedroom
and peered through the gap. 
 
"Dios mio...Dios mio...Dios mio..."  It was Maria, the housekeeper. 
She was tied to the David's bed, spread-eagle, face down, a pillow
under her hips, her big round bottom jutting into the air.  David was
on top of her, pounding away at her pussy, his hard cock wrapped in a
latex condom.  I wondered if this was consensual, whether David was
really raping her, but she turned her head and I saw her expression. 
Her smile was unmistakable. 
 
"Si...David...si...chinga...chinga me..."  Maria pronounced his name 
like "Da-veed", and I knew enough Spanish to know what "chinga me" 
meant: "fuck me".  Sex, the universal language. 
 
"Take it, bitch," David muttered, slamming into the housekeeper's sex. 
She cried out, writhing underneath him, straining at the bonds that
held her as she came.  I could see this had a galvanic effect on David,
and his thrusts got even harder, faster, until he buried himself inside
her, his whole body stiffening as he filled the condom with his semen. 
He fell on to her back, kissing her neck as he caught his breath.  They
laid like this for a while and then he climbed off of her, untying her 
arms and legs.  She rubbed the raw spots on her wrists where the ropes 
had dug into her skin. 
 
Maria leaned forward and kissed David, and then he did something that 
surprised me.  He peeled the condom from his softening penis and gave
it to her. 
 
"Drink it," he said.  Maria smiled and emptied the contents of the 
rubber into her mouth, swishing his semen around before swallowing it. 
Then David leaned in and kissed her again, hard this time, locking lips
with her, squeezing her full breasts, his tongue making her cheek
bulge.  They broke off their kiss and she laughed, reaching down to the
carpet to collect her clothing.  David laid on the bed and watched as
the housekeeper put on her underwear, tattered cotton panties and an
old worn bra, her pantyhose and slip, her light blue uniform dress and 
starched white apron, and finally her white shoes.  She gave David 
another kiss, on the cheek this time, and left his bedroom, humming to 
herself. 
 
I watched as David untied the ropes from his bed post and coiled them 
up, placing them in the bottom of one of his desk drawers.  Then he 
pulled a magazine from under one of his pillows, the one that was all 
bondage pictures, and sat down on his bed, lighting a joint.  I knocked
on his door and opened it. 
 
"Wanna hit?" he said, offering the joint to me. 
 
"Sure, thanks," I said, taking it from him as I sat down on his bed. 
 
"Where'd you go?" David asked.  "I looked for you when I got home from 
school." 
 
"I went swimming," I said.  "David, I have to tell you something." 
 
"What is it?" 
 
"I saw what you were doing with Maria." 
 
"You were spying on me?" 
 
"Sort of, yes," I said, handing the joint back to him.  "I thought you 
were, well..." 
 
"What?" 
 
"I thought you were raping her," I confessed.  "I had to make sure." 
 
"Me?  Raping her?"  David said, indignant.  "That's bullshit.  Don't
you know me better than that?" 
 
"Davy, I've only known you for a week," I said, reaching for his hand. 
"I'm sorry." 
 
"No, you don't have to apologize," he said, intertwining his fingers 
with mine.  "I could see how you would think that." 
 
"I'm glad you understand," I said.  "You liked tying her up, didn't 
you?" 
 
"Yes," David said, smiling sheepishly.  "She came in with the laundry 
and caught me jerking off, and then one thing led to another..." 
 
"And she didn't mind it when you tied her up?" 
 
"It was more her idea than mine," David said.  "She saw the magazine 
and..." 
 
"I see.  Did you have a safe word?" 
 
"A what?" 
 
"A safe word," I said.  "A way for her to let you know that you're 
hurting her or that she wants you to stop." 
 
"No," David replied.  "I just figured she'd tell me." 
 
"Okay, but promise me you'll agree on one next time.  Something other 
than 'no' or 'stop'." 
 
"Like what?" David asked.  "What would be a good word?" 
 
"Something that has nothing at all to do with sex, like 'chicken' or 
'raspberry'." 
 
"Chicken," he laughed.  "That's a good one." 
 
"It's the word I used with Julia." 
 
"Julia?" 
 
"A woman I knew in Maine," I said.  "We were lovers." 
 
"Chicken," he said again.  We passed the joint back and forth and
looked at the magazine together.  After we finished the weed, I gave
him a kiss and went to take the dog for a walk.  When I returned, Maria
was mopping the kitchen floor, still humming to herself.  As I hung up
the dog's leash, I imagined her on all fours, naked, the dog's black
leather collar around her neck.  I pictured myself holding the leash,
pulling her head between my legs and making her lick me while David
took her from behind.  Maria saw me enter the kitchen, smiled, and went
back to her mopping. 
 
I thought about showing David how to torture her with pleasure, to bind
her and keep her on the edge of her climax until she begged for her 
release, to make her come so hard she would pass out, just as Julia had
done for me.  There wasn't time, though.  I had to get ready for my 
dinner with Krystle and her husband.  As I headed back to Dana's 
bedroom, I heard her and Mia coming through the front door.  Mia
greeted me with a kiss on the cheek, and I got a big hug from Dana. 
She was wearing her black velvet leotard, white tights, and pink
legwarmers, her hair tied into two thick, curly pigtails.  She looked
cute enough to eat. 
 
While Dana changed out of her dance clothes and sat down to do her 
homework, I took a shower and shampooed my hair.  I'd already taken a 
bath with Mia after breakfast, spent the morning at the pool, had 
another shower at Jack's place, and now I was in the shower again.  
Considering that I was visiting a city in the middle of a desert, I was
spending a lot of time under water.  I wanted to look good for dinner, 
though, and there was the matter of Jack's cum, still oozing from my 
cunny.  I finished my shower quickly, dried my hair, and wrapped myself
in a towel. 
 
Dana was seated at her desk, a textbook open before her, writing notes 
on a spiral-bound pad.  She looked up and smiled, and I gave her a
quick kiss on the cheek before getting ready.  I had an hour before I
had to be at Krystle's house, so I had to hurry.  Dana closed her books
and watched as I dressed, helping me hook my lacy black bra and attach
the garter belt's tabs to my stockings.  I took my time with my makeup,
wanting to look perfect for dinner with Krystle and her husband,
knowing that they might have me for dessert. 
 
I slipped on the black sheath dress I'd worn to dinner the week before.
 Dana zipped up the dress and clasped the pearl necklace Helen had
given me, looking on as I put on my earrings, a gift from Julia, one of
the few things I'd managed to keep my room mate at the foster home from
stealing.  I put on a pair of black pumps and stood in front of the 
mirror, straightening the hem and straps of my dress. 
 
"You look beautiful," Dana said. 
 
"Thank you, sweetie."  I gave her an air kiss, not wanting to smear my 
lipstick.  Dana followed me out to the kitchen, where Mia was cooking 
dinner. 
 
"Stunning," Mia said, "Absolutely stunning." 
 
"Thanks," I said.  "How's your back?" 
 
"Better, thank you."  Mia sat down at the table, and I could tell from 
her deliberate, slow movements that her back was still bothering her. 
 
"Maybe you should see a doctor or something." 
 
"I'll be fine," she said, taking a sip of wine.  "If it still bothers 
me tomorrow, I'll see if I can get an appointment with my
chiropractor." 
 
"Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?" I asked her. 
 
"No, but thanks," Mia said.  "I'm going to lie down for a bit while the
boulliabaise simmers.  And Dana's here to help me, right sweetie?" 
 
"Yes, Mommy," Dana said, holding on to her stepmother's hand and
nodding eagerly. 
 
"Do you need a ride, Annie?" Mia said.  "I can drive you to Krystle's 
place." 
 
"No, thanks," I said.  "It's not far.  I can walk." 
 
"Call us if you need a ride back," she said.  "And have fun." 
 
"I'm sure I will," I said, leaning over to give Mia a light kiss on the
cheek.  I checked my makeup one last time in the mirror in the front 
hall, checking my purse to make sure I had my lipstick and keys, and 
left the house, stepping into the twilight. 
 

                            * * *
 

Krystle greeted me at the door, welcoming me with a hug and a kiss, 
inviting me inside.  Her hair was freshly styled, and she wore a lovely
blue silk cocktail dress, low cut, showing plenty of cleavage.  She
took my hand and ushered me into the living room.  Her house was much
larger than my father's, and the furniture more expensive.  She earned
more than twice as much as my father, and it showed. 
 
"You look gorgeous, Anne," Krystle said. 
 
"Thank you," I replied.  "So do you.  That's a beautiful dress." 
 
"Thanks, hon.  Steve should be down in a minute," she said.  "Would you
like a drink?" 
 
"Please." 
 
"We have soda, wine, whatever you like." 
 
"What are you having?" I asked her. 
 
"Steve and I like a martini or two before dinner," she said.  "Would
you like one?" 
 
"I've never had a martini." 
 
"Then you're in for a treat," Krystle said.  "Miguel mixes the best 
martinis on the planet." 
 
"Miguel?" 
 
"One of our servants," she explained.  "We employ a housekeeper and a 
cook, but I hire extra people when we have friends for dinner.  I just 
don't have the time to entertain, what with work and all."  Krystle
went to fetch Miguel, and I sat on the black leather couch, looking
around the room.  Everything looked new and shiny, but there was a
glitzy quality to the furniture and knick-knacks, as if one was meant
to know how expensive these things were.  Helen's house was also
luxurious, but it was a subtle luxury, not gaudy like Krystle's chrome
and glass furnishings. 
 
"Here we go," Krystle said, returning with Miguel, a tall, handsome 
young man in a short black waistcoat and perfectly pressed trousers. 
He set about the task of mixing a pitcher of martinis, adding gin and
just a hint of vermouth to a shaker filled with ice.  He capped the
decanter and shook it vigorously, pouring the clear mixture into three
martini glasses, adding an olive to each.  Just then Steve appeared,
entering through the living-room's double doors, dressed in a sharp
blue suit.  He was taller than my father, with closely-cropped red hair
that was starting to thin on top.  Despite that, he was handsome, with
clear hazel eyes and a cleft chin. 
 
"Anne, this is my husband, Steve," Krystle said. 
 
"A pleasure to meet you," he said, extending his hand for a shake. 
 
"The pleasure is mine," I said. 
 
"Krys tells me that you're quite good with computers," Steve said, 
accepting a martini from Miguel. 
 
"I guess," I replied.  "I'd never touched one until the other day." 
 
"Steve's company makes those," Krystle said. 
 
"Just the chips," he said.  "The parts inside, processor, memory, 
controllers.  Here..."  Steve picked up a lucite cube from the coffee 
table and handed it to me.  Embedded within was a square black wafer.  
One side was covered with little gold pins.  The other bore a white 
stencil with the name of Steve's company and a series of tiny numbers. 
 
"That's the brain of a computer," he said.  Steve took a seat in one of
the leather armchairs, across from the couch. 
 
"Cool."  It was pretty neat, and I wanted to hear more.  My curiosity 
had been piqued. 
 
"Don't get him started, Annie," Krystle said.  "He can go on all night 
about these things.  Try your martini, let me know if you like it." 
She sat down on the couch next to me. 
 
I took a sip of my drink.  It was strong but smooth, with an
interesting aftertaste, ever so slightly fruity. 
 
"It's very good," I said.  I would have liked a glass of wine instead, 
but sipping this martini made me feel grown-up, sophisticated. 
 
"Don't drink too fast," Krystle said.  "These go right to your head." 
I took her advice and paced myself, taking small sips, one for every
two of hers.  Miguel mixed another round and then excused himself,
bowing slightly before leaving us.  Steve poured the second round, and
we made small talk while we waited for dinner to be served. 
 
In between listening to Krystle talk about the latest Paris fashions, 
Steve talking about the new plant his company was building in Malaysia,
and answering their questions about Boston and the school I was going
to attend, I felt a distinct sexual tension in the room.  Maybe it was
the way Steve was looking at me, or perhaps the way Krystle placed her
hand on my knee, squeezing it to punctuate what she was saying.  I was
just about to put my hand on hers when a maid entered the room. 
 
"Dinner is served, ma'am," she said.  She wore a formal maids' uniform,
not the skimpy, frothy French kind, like the servants who attended 
Bradley and Helen's swing parties wore, rather a long, charcoal grey 
dress that came down above the knees, with a starched white apron tied 
around her neck and waist.  The maid was buxom, slightly chubby, like 
Mia's housekeeper, but her high cheekbones and copper-colored skin 
betrayed more than a hint of Native-American blood somewhere in her 
ancestry. 
 
"Thank you, Pilar," Steve said.  She bowed and left the room. 
 
"Shall we?" Krystle said.  She stood up and held out her hand, leading 
me into the dining room. 
 
The table was the one piece of furniture I actually liked.  A thick 
glass oval sat upon a curved pedestal carved from green-tinted granite,
a welcome change from the chrome furniture in the living room.  As I 
took my seat, a second maid emerged from the kitchen with a soup
tureen, ladling gazpacho into my bowl.  I'd never had that before, and
I took a small taste first.  It was pretty good. 
 
After the soup there was a salad course, and then roast game hen.  
Miguel stood at attention while we ate and conversed, ready to refill a
water glass or pour more wine.  Dessert was served afterwards,
chocolate mousse with freshly whipped cream, and coffee.  As the maids
cleared the table, we returned to the living room, where Miguel poured
snifters of brandy, lighting Steve's cigar with a gold lighter. 
 
"Bring me the tray Miguel," Steve said to the servant.  Miguel snapped 
to attention and left the room, returning with a silver tray which he 
placed on the coffee table.  It held six even lines of white powder and
a long chrome cylinder. 
 
"Would you like some coke, Annie?" Krystle asked. 
 
"Yes, please," I said.  Krystle held my hair back as I leaned over the 
coffee table and snorted one of the lines.  I sat up and tilted my head
back, feeling the rush spread through my whole body. 
 
"Oh my," I said, passing the chrome straw to Krystle, my heart beating 
faster, a feeling of exhilaration coursing through my veins.  "Oh my." 
 
"Good stuff," Steve said.  "Peruvian flake." 
 
Krystle did a line and handed the straw to Steve.  He snorted one and 
passed it to me.  As I did the second line, I could feel the first one 
start to drip down the back of my throat, numbing it.  After we
finished the coke, Steve pulled a gold cigarette case from his jacket,
pulling out a joint and lighting it.  As good as the coke was, the pot
was even better, sweet tasting, with an almost skunky odor.  I took a
sip of brandy and felt a sheen of perspiration on my forehead. 
 
"You look hot, dear," Krystle said.  "We can turn up the air 
conditioning if you'd like." 
 
"Don't bother," I said, reaching back and tugging at the zipper of my 
dress.  "I hope you don't mind."  I stepped out of my black sheath and 
sat down on the couch in my lace bra and panties.  My inhibitions had 
left with that first line of coke.  Besides, I knew why I was here. 
 
"That's a good idea," Krystle said.  "Would you unzip me, Anne?"  She 
wore an expensive pale blue lace bra and matching panty underneath her 
dress, no stockings or hose.  As we passed the joint around, I felt her
hand on the small of my back, gently caressing me with a slow circular 
motion. 
 
Some people get very talkative when they do cocaine.  I wasn't one of 
those people, but Steve and Krystle were.  Over the next half hour I 
heard more than I needed to know about them, where they grew up, where 
they went to school, just about everything.  Krystle had been born and 
raised in New Mexico, on a cattle ranch, one of eight children.  She'd 
dropped out of high school to wait tables in a diner, but she managed
to get an equivalency certificate and get accepted into a community 
college.  From there she transferred to New Mexico State and got a 
degree in business management, moving to Tucson first before coming to 
Phoenix, picking up her real estate license along the way.  It was here
that she met Steve. 
 
He'd grown up outside of Seattle, and studied electrical engineering at
Cal Tech, getting a position with Boeing right before the first energy 
crisis in the early Seventies.  Being a new employee, he was the first 
to go when the layoffs began.  For a while, the only work he could find
was on a used car lot, cleaning automobiles.  When a sales position 
opened, he took it, figuring that business would pick up soon, and he'd
be re-hired by Boeing. 
 
After two years it looked like that would never happen, so Steve headed
south.  If he was going to sell cars, he might as well do it where it 
didn't rain three hundred days each year.  He worked in San Jose, then 
Las Vegas, before finding a sales position at a new car dealership in 
Phoenix, where he worked with my father.  And just as my father had met
Mia when her parents flew down from Montreal to buy her a Jeep, Steve 
met Krystle when she came in to the showroom to price a new car.  They 
dated, got engaged, and right before the wedding the company Steve now 
works for began to hire engineers.  It was only a couple of years
before he was made a manager, on the fast track for a vice presidency. 
 
Then it was my turn.  As Krystle sat next to me, stroking my hair and 
caressing my thighs, Steve asked me whether I'd decided on a college. 
 
"I have a couple of years before I have to decide," I said. 
 
"Wait, I thought you're at least seventeen," Steve said.  "How old are 
you?" 
 
"I just turned fifteen." 
 
"I told you how old she is," Krystle said. 
 
"No you didn't," he complained. 
 
"Yes I did," she said.  "Last night.  Don't you remember?" 
 
"What, when we were in bed?" 
 
"Right after Johnny's monologue," Krystle said.  "Weren't you 
listening?" 
 
"Sorry, Krys," he said.  "I must've been half asleep.  What's the age
of consent here?" 
 
"Eighteen, I think," she said.  "Not that they ever enforce that, 
especially on the reservations." 
 
"Shit," Steve said.  "Get dressed, Anne.  I'll drive you home." 
 
"No," I said. 
 
"What?"  Steve looked as if he'd just been slapped in the back of the 
head. 
 
"I said 'no'.  I came here to get laid, and that's what I want to do." 
Krystle squeezed my thigh and laughed. 
 
"I told you she was a wild one," she said.  "Let's do some more lines."
 
"Okay, if you say so," Steve said, somewhat reluctantly.  He summoned 
Miguel, who had been waiting in the dining room.  The servant took the 
tray and left, returning a minute later with six more lines of cocaine.
 While he was gone, Krystle had reached behind my back and unhooked my 
bra.  I shrugged the straps off of my shoulders and say back on the 
couch while she cupped and fondled my breasts.  Eighteen or not, I
could tell Steve was getting aroused as he watched his wife play with
my little titties.  I unclasped her bra and caressed her full breasts, 
teasing her nipples, feeling them stiffen between my fingers. 
 
We snorted the cocaine and smoked another joint.  Miguel poured more 
brandy, and I could see his hardness pressing against the leg of his 
trousers.  He managed to keep a deadpan expression, though there was a 
stiffness to his gait.  I suppose it's not easy to walk with an 
erection. 
 
Steve took off his jacket and loosened his tie, undoing the top button 
of his shirt.  By this time Krystle and I were making out on the couch,
our lips locked together, our hands roaming over each other, caressing,
squeezing, pinching.  Steve got up from his armchair and sat down on
the couch next to me, gently exploring my body.  I felt him pull my
hair away from my neck and start to kiss me there, working up to my
earlobe, nibbling it as he squeezed my breasts.  I leaned against the
back of the couch and let Steve and Krystle have their way with me. 
 
"Let's go upstairs," Krystle whispered.  She stood up from the couch
and helped me to my feet, taking my hand and leading me upstairs. 
Steve was right behind me, his hand on my bottom, cupping my cheeks
through my black lace panties.  We walked down a carpeted hallway,
framed prints on the walls, past their big bedroom and through a
doorway. 
 
"This is our playroom," Krystle said.  "It's supposed to be our guest 
bedroom, but our guests usually don't get much sleep." 
 
The room was large, as big as my father's bedroom.  There was a king-
sized bed with straps attached to the bedposts at each corner.  Next to
it was an armoire, the drawers partially open, revealing an assortment 
of toys: dildos, vibrators, massage oils, lubricants, handcuffs, whips 
and paddles.  Another drawer contained lingerie, feather boas, some 
leather items that I couldn't identify.  Opposite the bed was a door 
that led to a bathroom, and I could see a large plastic sheet covering 
the tile floor. 
 
"Who are your guests?" I asked. 
 
"Just people we meet in bars," Steve said.  "Men, women, couples." 
 
"Sometimes we place a personal ad in the paper," Krystle added.  
"Variety is the spice of life." 
 
There was a knock on the door and Miguel entered, carrying the tray of 
cocaine in one hand, and a bottle of champagne in the other.  Behind
him was one of the maids, carrying a tray with three champagne flutes
and a silver bucket filled with ice.  Miguel placed the cocaine on the
bedside table and opened the bottle.  The cork made a loud popping
sound and a bit of foam bubbled out of the neck.  Then he poured it
into the three glasses, put the bottle in the ice bucket, bowed
slightly, and left with the maid. 
 
"To Anne," Krystle said, clinking her glass against mine.  "A lovely, 
sexy young woman." 
 
"I'll drink to that," Steve said.  I took a sip of champagne and put 
down the glass.  My head was starting to spin from all the alcohol and 
drugs, and I didn't want to insult my hosts by throwing up and passing 
out. 
 
"You should see her pretty little pussy, Steve," Krystle said.  As he 
started to undress, Krystle knelt behind me and tugged at my panties, 
pulling them down over my thighs, exposing my shaved cunny to her 
husband.  He smiled as he stepped out of his trousers and took off his 
shirt.  I could see his hardness poking at the front of his red silk 
boxer shorts, making a tent in the shiny fabric. 
 
"You've seen it before?" Steve asked. 
 
"Tuesday, when I was with her and Frank in the model home at Corazon," 
she replied. 
 
"Wait a second, you and Frank?" Steve said, frowning.  "I thought we 
agreed..." 
 
"We agreed not to fall in love with anyone else," Krystle said.  "You 
don't think I'd fall for one of my salesmen, do you?" 
 
"No, but..." 
 
"Steve, honey, he's just a swinging dick to me," she said.  "Nothing 
more.  Besides, you're going to fuck his little girl.  I think it's a 
fair deal for everyone." 
 
"I guess," Steve said.  He didn't sound convinced, but that didn't stop
him from coming up to me and kissing me on the lips, his tongue seeking
mine, his hands squeezing my bottom as his wife caressed my back and 
cupped my breasts. 
 
"Taste her, Steve," Krystle said.  "Stick your tongue in that lovely 
little pussy of hers.  Lay down, baby."  I laid down across the bed and
Krystle stretched out next to me, pressing her lips against mine, her 
hands busy with my breasts, kneading them, pinching my nipples. 
 
Steve went straight for my sex.  No teasing, no kisses on the thighs or
the backs of my knees.  He started lashing my clit almost immediately 
with his tongue, sucking it with his lips, his fingers probing my 
passage.  I could feel his knuckle pressing against my sensitive inner 
spot, and as Krystle began to suckle my breasts, I felt my pleasure 
build, spurred on by the coke we'd snorted, the pot we smoked, the 
martinis, the wine, the brandy, the champagne.  It made it easy to let 
myself go.  I closed my eyes and felt like I was reduced to a clit and
a pair of nipples, that this was all that was left of my body, the rest
having melted away like an ice cube in the Arizona sun. 
 
And then I felt it, a cold, wet sensation on my breasts.  Krystle had 
taken a piece of ice from the bucket and held it between her lips,
using it to circle my nipples.  I almost jumped out of my skin when I
felt it, not because of the cold, but from surprise, the unexpected
sensation that drew me back into the moment.  But then I let go of
myself again, savoring this new feeling as the ice stiffened my nipples
and sent chills through my whole body.  Steve was still ravishing my
sex, licking and sucking my pearl, his fingers busily sawing in and out
of my slit.  Krystle swallowed what was left of the ice cube and
lightly grazed my nipples with her teeth, and that was what sent me
over the edge, trembling in her arms and pinning Steve between my
quivering thighs.  He looked up from between my legs and smiled, and
then he stood up and stepped out of his silk boxers. 
 
I now understood what Krystle saw in my father.  Steve's hard cock was 
no bigger than David's, and it wasn't very thick, either, though his 
purplish glans was nice and fat.  His balls, though, were enormous, the
biggest pair I'd ever seen.  They wouldn't have been out of place 
between the legs of a horse, although they made his penis look even 
smaller by comparison.  I sat up on the bed and reached for him, 
stroking his cock, cupping his huge sack.  He had almost no body hair, 
just sparse red patches on his chest and groin, and almost none on his 
scrotum.  I thought he'd shaved himself, but I could feel a fine,
almost invisible fur.  I leaned forward and began to lick and suck his
big nuts.  Steve sighed and stroked my hair, his hips rocking slowly as
I started to fellate him. 
 
"Take her, Steve," Krystle said, climbing off of the bed and selecting
a vibrator from the armoire.  "I want to see you fuck Frank's little 
girl." 
 
"Please," I said, pulling his cock from my mouth and looking up at him.
 "Fuck me.  Please."   
 
Steve and Krystle's horniness was rubbing off on me, and the thought of
her watching me as I took her husband's cock in my hungry cunny made me
ache inside.  He gently pushed me back on the bed and mounted me, 
reaching down to guide his hardness into my passage.  I wrapped my arms
and legs around his body and held him as he began to thrust with short,
shallow strokes.  Krystle returned to the bed and turned on the 
vibrator, a long pink phallus with a fat head and prominent veins
molded into the latex skin.  She touched it to my nipples, my belly,
her husband's swaying balls, and between his buttocks before using it
on herself, rubbing it up and down her cleft as she laid next to us, 
watching us fuck. 
 
Steve may not have had the biggest cock in the world, but he did have 
stamina, probably a by-product of the cocaine.  As his wife squirmed
and writhed on the bed next to us, the big vibe buried in her snatch,
he pumped me for what seemed like an hour, alternating between those
short strokes and hard thrusts that nearly knocked the wind out of me. 
After Krystle came she turned the vibrator on me again, pushing me
towards another climax as she rubbed it over my nipples.  I could feel
her juices on the vibrator, drying on my areolae, feeling almost as
cold as the ice.  I clamped my muscles down on Steve's throbbing cock
when I came, and he gasped, his glans flaring inside me as he began to
spurt, a flow of hot, thick semen that I thought would never end.  It
seemed like he'd never stop coming, and I could feel his cream start to
seep out of my messy snatch even before he stopped thrusting and pulled
out.  There were clots of sperm all over his softening cock, and
Krystle leaned over to clean him with her tongue, scooping the cum from
his shaft and swallowing it. 
 
Steve wasn't one for cuddling afterwards, but Krystle was, snuggling up
against my body and holding me while he sipped his champagne and
watched us coo and kiss.  Her hair was uncharacteristically messy, but
she didn't seem to care.  She just wanted to rock me in her arms and
kiss me on the cheek and neck. 
 
"Such a sexy little girl," she whispered.  "I hope I have a girl like 
you someday." 
 
"Thank you, Krys," I said, kissing her on the lips.  We laid together 
for a while and then sat up to drink some champagne.  My mouth was dry 
from all the moaning I'd done, and it felt good to wet my lips with the
bubbly wine. 
 
"Another line?" Steve asked, passing me the tray.  We did a line each 
and chased it with another joint and more champagne.  I began to feel 
the urgent need to use the bathroom, so I started to get up from the 
bed. 
 
"Gotta go, honey?" Krystle asked. 
 
"Yes, please." 
 
"Let's not let it go to waste," Steve said.  "Mind if we join you?" 
 
"You want to...?" I said, suddenly remembering what Krystle had said in
the bathroom that day when we were about to take a shower together.  
She'd made me sit on her lap and pee on her, and I remembered her
saying that her husband was into this sort of thing. 
 
"If you'd rather not," Steve said, starting to look disappointed. 
 
"No, I don't mind," I said.  When in Rome... 
 
"Wonderful," Krystle said, reaching into the armoire and pulling out a 
dog collar and leash.  "Let's take our pretty little doggy for a walk."
 
"Outside?  No way," I said. 
 
"No, dear.  Just to the bathroom," she said, slipping the leather
collar around my neck and buckling it, just tight enough to keep it
from slipping down to my collarbone.  She unhooked my garter belt and
rolled down my stockings, attaching the leash to the collar, and I got
down on my hands and knees as she gently tugged on the tether.  She and
Steve walked me into the bathroom, and the plastic sheeting made a
crinkling nose as I crawled over it. 
 
"Would you like to go first, Krys?" Steve said. 
 
"Thank you, honey.  Don't mind if I do."  She handed him the leash and 
laid down on the floor, lying on her back.  Steve tugged at the leash 
and made me crawl on top of her.  His cum was oozing from my slit, 
dripping over Krystle's thighs and pooling on the clear plastic. 
 
"I don't know if I can...," I said.  I had to pee badly, but it was
hard to do this in front of them, let alone on Krystle. 
 
"Just close your eyes and relax, Annie," Steve said, kneeling next to
me and stroking my back.  I took a deep breath and let go, just a
trickle at first, and then a stream of hot urine began to pour from my
cleft, all over Krystle's neatly trimmed pubes, flowing down her sex. 
She began to sigh and moan, squeezing her big tits as she smiled at me.
 Right before my bladder emptied she shuddered, pinching her nipples as
a mini-orgasm washed through her body. 
 
"Let me clean you," she said.  Steve positioned me over her face and
she began to lick my messy hole, swallowing her husband's semen and
licking the beads of piss from my labia.  I let out just a bit more
pee, the last drops from my bladder, and she greedily drank it all. 
 
"Mmmm...that was good," Krystle said.  "Your turn, now." 
 
I didn't know what she meant by that, but I found out soon enough.  I 
felt a warm stream of piss flowing down my back, streaming over my 
bottom and the back of my thighs.  As her husband peed on me, Krystle 
reached between my legs and played with my pussy, rubbing my clit, 
probing my bottom, making her husband's urine splash against my nether 
lips.  He must have had a gallon of piss saved up for me, almost a 
couple of minute's worth.  His flow finally waned to a trickle, and I 
felt him shaking off the last few drops. 
 
"Did you like that, Annie?" Steve asked me, helping me to my feet and 
removing the leash from my collar. 
 
"Sort of, yeah," I said.  Just like when I'd done this with Margaret,
at Julia's house in Maine, I felt nasty, dirty, like there wasn't
anything I wouldn't do, short of something really gross or painful. 
Krystle seemed to love it, though, and I could tell Steve was really
into it, from the way his cock was starting to get hard. 
 
"Your turn, dear," she said.  Steve laid down on the plastic, not 
seeming to mind the pool of urine he was laying in, and Krystle
squatted over him, letting out a steaming stream of piss, all over his
cock and balls.  Before she was even finished he was hard again, and I
watched as Krystle kneeled on the floor and Steve mounted her, taking
her from behind.  As they fucked doggy-style, I squatted next to her
and played with her swaying breasts, reaching between her legs to rub
her big swollen clit, making her come as her husband pounded her with
his stubby cock.  He didn't last as long this time, digging his fingers
into her ass cheeks as he filled her with his cum, almost as much as
he'd spurted inside my cunny. 
 
They must have done this often, because they had the clean-up down to a
science.  There was a stack of fresh towels next to the sink, and 
Krystle used half of them to blot up the urine that pooled on the 
plastic while Steve rolled the sheets up like a rug.  Then we stepped 
into the shower, my third one that day, not counting what Steve had
done on me, and we lathered each other, rinsing off the residue of our
wet little game. 
 
We dried each other off and Krystle took the dog collar off of my neck,
returning to their playroom to snort some more cocaine.  Steve looked
as if he was done for the night, his soft cock looking tiny compared to
his enormous balls.  He sat on the bed and watched as his wife and I
kissed and felt each other up, and then laying head to toe, our heads
nestled between each other's thighs, kissing and licking each other's
cleft, making each other quiver and writhe on the bed.   
 
I could taste a lingering trace of urine on her labia, the bitter taste
mixing with her husband's cream and her nectar, but I lapped up the 
mixture anyway, making her squirm and pin me between her thighs as she 
came.  She returned the favor, her lips clamped to my sex as I felt my 
whole body tingle.  Steve decided to join in, laying behind me and 
probing my nether hole with my tongue, his fingers manipulating my slit
as his wife's tongue danced over my clit.  I came so hard that I had to
squirm away from them, shaking like a leaf and trying to catch my 
breath.  Krystle held me in her arms, laying my head on her bosom until
I could feel my strength begin to return. 
 
"Let's go down to the hot tub," Krystle said. 
 
"Hot tub?"  I began to wonder if all this water would start to make my 
skin dry out, and I made a mental note to use some moisturizer when I 
got back home. 
 
"I could use a good soak right now," Steve said.  "Come, it's 
downstairs." 
 
They led me downstairs, through a hallway, past the kitchen, stopping
at the doorway.  I could see Miguel, his trousers down around his
ankles, while Pilar, the maid with the high cheekbones, knelt at his
feet, sucking his long, tanned cock.  Steve and Krystle didn't seem to
be self-conscious about letting the servants see them naked, but I
stood behind her, peeking over her shoulder as I watched Miguel fuck
the maid's mouth. 
 
"Miguelito," Steve said.  "Bring the champagne and the tray down to the
tub when you get a chance, okay?" 
 
"Si, Senor," Miguel replied.  "I will do that right...now."  He began
to come in the maid's mouth, making her cheek bulge with his throbbing 
member.  I could see her throat moving as she swallowed his semen, but 
she began to choke on it, coughing wetly and releasing his rod from her
lips.  Miguel spurted a couple of ropy jets of sperm all over her face 
and the bodice of her apron, but the maid seemed to like this, smiling 
as she extended her tongue and began to clean the head of his penis. 
 
"What a stud that boy is," Steve said, leading me down the hall, past 
the kitchen and the servants' quarters, through a door that led to a 
glazed enclosure, like a small greenhouse.  There was a redwood hot tub
in the middle of the room, along with a couple of wooden benches.  
Krystle checked the temperature on the heating unit and dipped her hand
in the steaming water. 
 
"Could be a little warmer," she said. 
 
"That's okay," Steve said, checking the gauge and testing the water
with his toe.  "I don't like it too hot."  As they eased into the warm
water, I followed them, slowly settling into the big wooden tub.  I
felt wonderful, soothing, almost like being back in the womb.  Krystle
sat next to me, her arm around my shoulder, her breasts bobbing just
beneath the surface. 
 
Miguel and the maid came in a few minutes later, bringing the ice
bucket with the champagne bottle and the silver tray with six freshly
cut lines of coke.  He had a contented smile, almost a smirk.  The maid
had wiped his cum from her face, but her apron still had a telltale
stain.  He held the tray for us as we snorted the lines and then poured
us some more champagne. 
 
"We'd like some more lines, Miguel" Steve said.  "And a joint would be 
nice." 
 
"Si, Senor," he replied, leaving with Pilar.  They returned a few 
minutes later with the silver tray and Steve's gold cigarette case.  I 
was feeling pretty wired at that point, and I could only do one line. 
 
"What's the matter, Annie?" Krystle asked. 
 
"I'll never get to sleep tonight," I said.  "I'm supposed to get up 
early tomorrow.  We're going camping." 
 
"I can give you something to help you get to sleep," Steve said. 
"Knock you right out." 
 
"Thanks," I said.  "Would you mind if I gave this line to Miguel?" 
 
"Not at all," Krystle said.  "He dips into our stash, anyway."  Miguel 
blushed and smiled sheepishly, and he took the tray, snorting half of 
the line and giving the other half to Pilar. 
 
"Su esposa?" I asked him as he lit the joint and passed it to Krystle. 
 
"Pilar es mi hermana," he replied.  The maid smiled and curtseyed. 
 
"What did he say?" Krystle asked me. 
 
"I asked him if she was his wife," I said.  "He said she's his sister."
 
"I could have told you that," Steve said, taking a deep drag on the 
joint and passing it to me. 
 
"Miguel worked for our landscaping contractor," Krystle said.  "I 
thought he was too handsome to be pulling weeds all day.  We hired him 
and Pilar to be our live-in help.  He's a wonderful cook with a 
beautiful cock."  She accepted the joint from me and took a deep drag. 
 
"Miguelito, show our guest your cock," Steve said. 
 
"Si, senor," he said, unbuttoning his trousers and pulling down his 
zipper.  Pilar helped him push his trousers and briefs down around his 
thighs.   
 
"It's glorious," Krystle said.  "You'll love it." 
 
I'd only caught a glimpse of his member in the kitchen.  Even flaccid, 
it was nice and thick, with a purplish head peeking out of the hood of 
his foreskin. 
 
"Ven aqui," I said.  Miguel came closer, stepping up on the platform 
that surrounded the tub. 
 
"May I?" I asked him, reaching out to touch his thick shaft. 
 
"Si." 
 
As I began to stroke him back to life, Pilar came closer, watching as
he hardened between my fingers.  I turned around so I was leaning on
the rim of the tub and ducked my head between his legs, taking him into
my mouth.  I could feel Krystle's and Steve's hands on me, cupping my 
breasts, dipping between my nether lips, teasing my clit.  Pilar gently
brushed my hair away from my cheek as I sucked her brother's cock, 
caressing my neck and shoulder. 
 
I heard movement behind me.  It was Steve, his hands on my hips, his 
stubby prick pressing into me.  Krystle reached under me and began to 
rub my clit, her full breasts pressing into my arm.  As Steve began to 
slowly thrust inside me, Miguel rocked his hips to his rhythm, two hard
cocks filling me, one in my mouth, the other pumping my tender hole. 
 
The only thing better than two cocks was three, I thought.  I felt a 
finger probing my bottom, maybe Steve's, maybe Krystle's, as if my 
wishes had been answered.  I felt so nasty, so slutty, a husband
fucking me while his wife watched and diddled my clit, and sucking a
handsome young man's meat while his sister fondled his balls.  Steve
felt bigger than he had before, his cock fatter, his thrusts harder. 
Whoever was fingering my ass had their whole digit inside me, up to the
knuckle, sawing in and out in time with Steve's stubby prick.   
 
I bathed Miguel's cockhead with my tongue, stroking the portion of his 
shaft that my lips couldn't reach, feeling that kernel of pleasure 
growing within my belly, spreading outward, making me tremble in the 
warm water.  There were hands all over me, caressing, kneading, 
squeezing, and I began to come, releasing Miguel's hardness from my 
mouth so I could give voice to my pleasure.  Before I closed my eyes, I
saw Pilar take over, turning him so she could continue what I had 
started, hungrily gobbling her brother's hard meat. 
 
"She's a wild one," Krystle said, pinching my clit and making me gasp 
with surprise and delight. 
 
"Fuck...yes...fuck me...fuck me...," I moaned, urging Steve to pound me
harder, faster, to send me over another peak of pleasure.  I opened my 
eyes again and saw Pilar hoist her dress and lay down on one of the 
benches.  Her brother squatted over her, tugged the crotch of her 
panties aside, pushed his hardness into her hungry hole, and they began
to fuck furiously as we watched from the hot tub.  Suddenly, I felt 
Steve's cock twitching in my snatch, erupting in a gusher of his hot 
seed, making me cry out as he filled my passage with his thick cream.  
His thrusting slowed as Miguel's sped up, and soon the room echoed with
Pilar's cries instead of my own. 
 
Steve slipped out of my slit and sat down again, reaching for his 
champagne and taking a sip to quench his thirst.  I settled back down
on the seat that ran around the inside of the hot tub, nestling into 
Krystle's loving arms.  She kissed me on the cheek and I turned my
head, seeking her lips with my own.  As Pilar moaned and cried in the
throes of her climax, I reached between Krystle's legs and began to pet
her down there, seeking out her swollen pearl with my fingertips.  She
began to sigh, holding me close as I toyed with her sex, wanting her to
feel the pleasure I had experienced at the end of her husband's cock. 
She came quickly for me, rocking her hips under the warm water, making 
little waves that splashed along the side of the tub. 
 
I heard Miguel start to grunt behind me, and we turned to watch him
come in his sister's snatch, his copious emission making her pussy emit
soft sucking sounds as his thrusts began to slow.  Then he pulled out
of her and she sat up, licking his cum and her juices from his
softening meat, kissing his purple glans when she was finished.  Pilar
helped him pull his boxers and trousers back up, and he held out his
hand to help her to her feet. 
 
"Thank you, Miguel, Pilar," Steve said.  "That will be all." 
 
"Si, Senor.  Gracias."  He and Pilar left, taking the tray with them. 
I heard Miguel say something that made his sister giggle as their 
footsteps receded down the hall. 
 
We relaxed in the tub for a while, sipping the last of the champagne.  
Krystle asked if she could open another bottle for me, but I declined. 
The coke was wearing off, and the warm water had started to make me 
drowsy.  Steve helped me out of the tub and his wife dried me off with
a plush terrycloth towel, wrapping it around me and leading me back 
upstairs to help me get dressed.  Steve had gone into the living room
to pour himself a drink and light up a fresh cigar. 
 
"Thank you," I said to her as I sat on the edge of their playroom bed 
while she rolled my stockings up my legs.  I leaned forward and kissed 
her on the forehead. 
 
"You're quite welcome, Anne," she said.  "We loved having you for 
dinner." 
 
"Can I ask you a question?" I said.  "It's sort of personal." 
 
"Sure," she said, attaching my garter belt's tabs to my stockings. 
 
"You and Steve, do you love each other?" 
 
"Of course we do, Annie?" she said.  "Why would you think otherwise?" 
 
"I don't," I replied.  "I was just curious.  I mean, you both see other
people, right?" 
 
"Yes, Annie," Krystle said.  "We do." 
 
"The people I live with in Boston, Bradley and Helen, sometimes they 
share their bed with other people.  But they always do it together." 
 
"Every marriage is different, Anne," she said, leaning forward and 
planting a tender kiss between my breasts.  "I guess Steve and I just 
have bigger appetites than most other people.  But if we couldn't see 
anyone else, I'd still be happy with him.  He's a sweet guy, a 
gentleman, and I do love him, Annie.  I'm glad we have our 
'understanding', that we can see other people, as long as it doesn't 
jeopardize the love we have with each other.  Does that answer your 
question?" 
 
"Yes, thanks," I said.  I kissed her on the lips and then she helped me
to my feet, holding me steady while I slipped on my panties and stepped
into my heels.  We stood together for a moment, just holding each
other. 
 
"Your father says that you might move in with him," Krystle said.  "I 
hope you do.  We'd love to see more of you." 
 
"I'd like that," I said.  We kissed again, and she led me back 
downstairs to the living room, where I'd left my bra and my dress.  
Steve was sitting in one of the armchairs, a towel wrapped around his 
waist, drink in hand, puffing on a cigar.  He watched as I got dressed 
and then stood up to give me a kiss as Krystle zipped up my dress. 
 
"Can I give you a ride home?" he asked. 
 
"No thanks," I said.  "I'd like to walk.  It's not far." 
 
"I hope we can see you again," Steve said. 
 
"I'm flying home on Sunday, but I might be back for spring vacation," I
said. 
 
"I hope you can call this your home someday," Krystle said.  She and 
Steve gave me a hug and a kiss and then I left, stepping into the cool 
night air. 
 
The route I took home brought me past Jack's place, and I stood outside
his house trying to see if there was a light on inside.  I'd been well 
and truly fucked by Steve, and Krystle had gone to town on my cunny,
but I still had a yen for the feeling of Jack's huge cock stretching my
tender little hole.  I waited a few minutes, trying to see if the 
bedroom light was on, but he must have been asleep, even though it was 
just past ten o'clock.  I let out a little sigh of disappointment and 
walked back to the house. 
 
Schultzie was there to greet me at the door, wagging his tail, having 
heard my key in the lock.  I gave him a friendly scratch behind the ear
and a pat on his furry flank, heading down the hall to Dana's bedroom. 
Her door was open and the light was on, but she wasn't in bed.  I could
see a light on in David's room through the gap under his door, and I 
heard the sound of his unplugged guitar, a tortoise shell pick on steel
strings, the squeak of fingers on the neck. 
 
I heard a giggle and a hushed voice, Dana's voice, coming from inside
my father's den.  I stood by the door and listened, and then I knocked 
softly. 
 
"Come in," my father said. 
 
He was seated on the couch, wearing just a t-shirt and boxer shorts.  
Dana was on his lap, dressed only in her little pink cotton panties,
her arm around his shoulder.  There was a nearly-empty bottle of
tequila on the floor in front of the couch, along with his instant
camera and a couple of dozen photographs.  I sat down next to them. 
 
"I missed you, Annie," Dana said, reaching out for a hug. 
 
"I missed you, too, baby," I said, kissing her button nose. 
 
"How was dinner?" my father asked. 
 
"It was fun," I replied.  "Come on, Dana.  It's time for bed." 
 
"But Daddy said I could stay up a little longer." 
 
"It's a school night, sweetie," I said.  "Wash up and brush your teeth 
and I'll tuck you in, okay?" 
 
"Okay," she said, and she left the room.  As my father took a swig from
the bottle, I leaned over and sifted through the pictures he'd taken, 
all of Dana in various stages of undress.  In one shot, she'd pulled 
aside the crotch of her panties and exposed her bald little cunny. 
 
"I'm going to put her to bed," I said to my father.  "I'll be back in a
minute." 
 
"Fine," he said. 
 
After I helped Dana into her nightie and tucked her into bed, giving
her a kiss on the lips before turning out the light, I went back into
my father's office.  He was still on the couch, flipping through the 
photographs, his erection tenting his shorts. 
 
"Where's Mia?" I asked him. 
 
"She took something for her back and fell asleep." 
 
"Dana's too young for this, Daddy," I said, looking at a picture of her
sitting on the couch, her legs spread wide, her panties pulled tight 
over her labia. 
 
"I know, Annie," he said.  "I didn't touch her.  I just took some 
pictures." 
 
"Dana's curious about you, Daddy.  She saw me suck you in her room that
night," I said, snuggling up to him.  "She asked me if it would hurt." 
 
"What would hurt?" 
 
"Your cock, Daddy."  I reached into his boxer shorts and fished out his
erection.  My father put his arm around my shoulder, caressing my arm. 
 
"I wouldn't do anything to hurt her," he said.  "I promise." 
 
"Thank you, Daddy," I said, slowly stroking his thick shaft.  I felt
him reaching behind me, unzipping my dress, slipping his hand inside
and rubbing my back. 
 
"What did you do at Krystle's?" 
 
"We had cocktails, and then dinner, and then we went upstairs." 
 
"Steve fucked you?" 
 
"Twice." 
 
"Was he good?" my father asked. 
 
"Not as good as you, Daddy," I said, leaning my head against his 
shoulder. 
 
"That's my girl," he said, kissing me on the cheek. 
 
"Krystle told him." 
 
"Told him what?" 
 
"About you and her," I said. 
 
"She did?" my father said, surprised.  "How did he take it?" 
 
"Okay, I guess.  I think being with me sort of made up for it." 
 
"I'll bet," he said.  "Tell me about it.  I want to hear." 
 
"They have a whole room they call a 'playroom'.  Big bed, a chest full 
of toys and stuff, plastic sheets on the bathroom floor..." 
 
"Plastic sheets?" 
 
"They like to pee on each other.  Didn't you know that?" 
 
"I knew she was into some kinky stuff, but not this," my father said.  
"So, she pissed on you?" 
 
"Actually, I did it on her."  My father had the bottle to his lips and 
was taking a sip, but he choked when he heard me say this, spewing 
tequila all over the place. 
 
"Let me get this straight," he said.  "You urinated on my boss.  Is
that right?  You pissed on the person who signs my paychecks?" 
 
"Yes, Daddy," I said.  "Are you angry?" 
 
"Angry?  That's the funniest fucking thing I've ever heard," he said, 
hugging me, kissing me on the cheek, handing me the bottle.  I took a 
small sip and passed it back to him.  I'd had plenty to drink that 
night, even though the cocaine kept me from feeling too drunk and 
drowsy.  "So then what happened?" 
 
"We washed off and then Steve watched me and Krys for a while," I said.
 "Then we went down to their hot tub."  I didn't feel like getting into
details, or telling him about Miguel and Pilar, or all the drugs we'd 
done.  It just didn't feel right, like I was betraying a confidence.  
I'd told him just enough to satisfy his curiosity. 
 
"I wish I could have been there," my father said.  "Even as a fly on
the wall." 
 
"Maybe some other time," I said.  "They want to have me back." 
 
"I'm sure they do," he said.  "Who wouldn't want to be with a pretty 
girl like you?" 
 
"Thank you, Daddy," I said, gently squeezing his hard cock. 
 
"Take off your dress for me, baby," he said.  "I want to see what
you're wearing underneath."  I stood up and shrugged my black sheath
dress off of my shoulders and stepped out of it, standing in front of
my father in my lacy black undies and stockings.  He pulled me close,
running his hands over my thighs and bottom, leaning forward to kiss my
belly.  I slowly got down on my knees, kneeling between his legs,
taking his hardness in my hands again, stroking it, squeezing it,
leaning forward and kissing the tip, parting my lips and engulfing him,
swirling my tongue over his glans. 
 
My father stroked my hair, my shoulders, my back as I slowly sucked
him.  I reached into his boxers and cupped his balls, fondling his
testicles as I pleasured him with my mouth.  I knew he was close to his
release as soon as my lips closed around his shaft.  He must have been
hard all evening, as he snapped pictures of a nearly naked Dana posing
on the couch.  My father's cock began to twitch in my mouth, a steady
drip of precum oozing from the tip.  Suddenly he squeezed my shoulder
and I felt him begin to throb, his glans flaring as he erupted in a big
gusher of cum.  It tasted sweeter than usual, and I knew he'd been
hitting the bottle all night.  I swallowed his thick cream, milking him
with my lips until the last dribble of semen passed through his penis,
keeping him in my mouth until he began to soften.  Then he pulled me on
to his lap and kissed me on the lips, his tongue seeking out his own
essence, his hands roaming over my skin. 
 
He yawned after our kiss, looking sleepier by the second.  I sat in his
lap for a minute or two, my arm around his shoulder, hugging him.  Then
I kissed him on the lips again and got up, collecting my dress and 
Dana's clothes from the floor. 
 
"Good night, Daddy," I said. 
 
"'night, Annie," he replied.  "I'll get you up early tomorrow, okay?" 
 
"Okay, Daddy."  I blew him a kiss and left him in his office, as he
took  another sip from the bottle. 
 
Dana was sound asleep, so I undressed as quietly as I could and went 
into the bathroom, wrapped in a plush towel.  I remembered that I
needed to moisturize my skin, which felt dry and scratchy from being in
water all day, three showers, a bath with Mia, the pool, the hot tub. 
There was a bottle of Jergen's in the medicine cabinet, and I started
with my arms, rubbing the soothing lotion into my skin.  I could hear
David, still awake, still playing guitar.  I knocked on the door that
led to his room from the bathroom.  David was sitting on his bed, the
guitar in his lap, a book of sheet music open next to him. 
 
"Hey," he said.  "How'd it go tonight?" 
 
"It was fun," I said.  "Could you do me a big favor, Davy?" 
 
"Sure, anything." 
 
"Could you rub this into my skin?" I said, handing him the bottle of 
lotion. 
 
"I'd love to," he said, putting the guitar aside.  I dropped my towel 
and  laid down on his bed, on my back.  David knelt next to me, 
squeezing moisturizer into his palm and rubbing his hands together.  
"Like this?" he asked, starting at my shoulders, gently working the 
lotion into my dry skin. 
 
"Perfect," I said.  "That really feels nice." 
 
David massaged my shoulders and arms, and then he squirted more lotion 
on his hand and gently rubbed it into my breasts, leaning down to kiss 
my nipples, making them stand at attention.  I closed my eyes and 
savored the feeling of his hands on me, his fingers sculpting the
curves and hollows of my body.  He began to massage my belly, my hips,
working down my thighs and calves, rubbing my feet, even my toes. 
 
"Roll over," he said.  "Let me do your back."  I turned over and heard 
David squeeze the bottle of lotion.  It made a flatulent sound, and we 
both laughed at that.  He pulled my hair away from my neck and began to
massage my shoulders. 
 
"You have such wonderful hands," I said.  "Strong and gentle at the
same time." 
 
"Thanks," David replied, working the lotion into the concave dips 
between my shoulder blades.  "If you move in with us I'd do this every 
night for you." 
 
"It's a deal," I murmured, feeling wonderfully relaxed as he rubbed my 
back.  I heard another fart-like squirt of lotion and David began to 
knead my cheeks, giving me a tender kiss right on my tail bone.  He 
stopped for a second and I heard the sound of clothes rustling, the 
vrrrrp of a zipper.  I turned my head and saw him getting undressed,
his lovely cock stirring between his legs. 
 
"I don't want to get this stuff on my jeans," he said, pouring more 
lotion on his palm and massaging the backs of my thighs. 
 
"Yeah, right," I laughed.  He worked his way down my legs, all the way 
to my ankles, and then I felt him straddle me, his hard penis nestled
in my crack, his hands working up again, kneading the knots from my
back and shoulders. 
 
"How was that?" David asked. 
 
"Heavenly," I replied.  He stretched out over my back and kissed me on 
the neck, nibbling my earlobe, kissing my cheek. 
 
"I love you," he whispered. 
 
"I love you, too," I said.  "Put some lotion in my bottom, Davy."  He 
lifted himself off of my back and I heard another squirt from the 
bottle, feeling his slick fingers probing my crack, lubricating my 
nether hole.  I didn't have to tell him to be gentle this time; he knew
exactly what to do, slipping one finger and then two inside me, 
moistening my tight hole, opening me, stretching me.  I heard the sound
of more lotion being applied, this time to his penis, that telltale 
slapping sound as he stroked himself.  And then he was on top of me 
again, pressing the tip of his cock to my bottom, slowly pushing inside
me.  There was no resistance, no pain.  All that coke and alcohol had 
deadened my senses, and his wonderful massage had left me in a state of
complete relaxation.  His slick shaft slowly slipped inside me, and he 
stretched out on my back again, kissing my cheek as he filled my
bottom. 
 
David reached for my hands, slipping his fingers between mine as he 
began to thrust, slowly pulling back and pushing forward, his sweet 
prick sliding in and out of my ass.  I brought his hands down to my 
breasts, and he held on to them as he pumped my bottom, rubbing my 
nipples between his fingers.  Reaching down under my belly, I slipped
my hand between my legs, toying with my cleft, teasing my button from
its hiding place.  I was numb, though, from all the sex, from the drugs
and booze, and I knew it would take ages to come, if at all.  I slipped
a fingertip between my lips, feeling the remnants of Steve's cream that
oozed from my passage. 
 
"I love you, Annie," David whispered in my ear.  "I love you, I love 
you, I love you..."  His words had a galvanic effect on me, and I felt 
some sensation returning, a tingling between my legs.  I scooped some
of Steve's semen from my slit and used it as a lubricant, rubbing it
over my clit, frigging myself quickly as I pushed my ass back against
David's hips. 
 
"Davy...my baby...my beautiful boy..." 
 
"Annie..." 
 
"Davy..." 
 
I felt my passion begin to rise, a tension in my belly that smoldered 
like an ember, a wave of heat that spread through my whole body.  I 
rubbed myself furiously, trying to fan the flames, to spontaneously 
combust beneath David's beautiful boycock, to find my release.  It 
arrived sooner than I thought, and I began to shudder beneath him, 
squeezing his shaft with my bottom, the tension in my body erupting in 
an explosion of pleasure.  I could feel his cock begin to throb inside 
me, the muscular ridge along the underside of his smooth shaft pulsing 
like a heartbeat.  He caught his breath, a sharp inhalation that 
whistled past his lips and then he began to come inside me, filling my 
bottom with the heat of his emission, his warm seed flowing from the
tip of his stem.  His thrusts began to slow and stop, and he kissed me
on the lips, gently nibbling them with his own. 
 
"Stay in me," I whispered, bearing down on his rigid shaft, clamping my
thighs together to trap him inside me.  We rolled over on our sides,
and somehow he didn't slip out of my bottom.  As he caressed my belly
and kissed my neck, I felt my exhaustion catch up with me, and I
drifted off to sleep, still connected to my beautiful stepbrother. 
 
 
                                  * * * 
 
 
(c) 2003  Anais Ninja  anais_ninja@hotmail.com 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/index.html

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