Archive for November, 2008

Pregnancy checkup

Sunday, November 23rd, 2008

Eight month’s pregnant Brenda Peters waited with the other patients in Doctor Robert’s lounge. Her boyfriend, a married man had left her when he learned of her pregnancy.

The eighteen-year-old blond single mother to be was the next to be seen. Brenda had been seeing him once every few weeks ever since her third month. Doctor Joseph Robert’s, who was a handsome man in his mid thirties and had a gentle touch. She recalled her previous visits as her panties dampened. She crossed her legs tightly to curb the feelings stirring within her.

“When will he be finished?” she thought to herself.

After what seemed like an eternity, the thirty three year old doctor finally walked out of his exam room with an attractive young Hispanic woman who was also in her eighth month. The woman appeared breathless and wide-eyed. Doctor Robert’s motioned for Brenda and escorted her into his exam room. He promptly closed and locked the door behind them.
.
“You know the woman that just left?” Doctor Roberts asked.
(more…)

Cookie Crumbs

Thursday, November 13th, 2008

(A Secret Santa Story)
By Dryad (MF, Holiday)

Merry Christmas! If you aren’t old enough to vote, please find
something more suitable for you to read. These works pop out of
my own head, so unless you’re one of the voices in there, this
work is mine, just ask if you are interested. Comments Grovelled
for.
******
Written with much love for my buddy Wiseguy. Love you! I’m
glad you enjoyed it!
********

She quietly closed the door. It took two readings of “The
Polar Express”, one “Night before Christmas” and “The Fourth
Wise Man” to get the two wiggle worms to fall asleep.
Threatening that Santa wouldn’t come until they were asleep
didn’t seem to do any good.

“Mark, They’re asleep.” She stage whispered down the hall. “I
need your help bringing down the rest of the gifts.” She heard
him bound up the carpeted stairs, his long legs taking them
three at a time. She walked down the hall ahead of him into
their bedroom, where Santa’s presents were waiting in their
closet.

“Here. You take these, I’ve got these. One more trip should do
it.” They quietly carried the beribboned booty back down the
stairs.
“I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus….” Rang low through the stereo
speakers as they placed the presents carefully around the tree.

“You filled the stockings?”

“Mmhmm. Did you remember that present we hid in the office
closet? What possessed you to buy such a large one?”

She smiled at him. “Oh, stop being such a bah humbug.” He
grinned back.

“One more job to do!” He said with a salacious look on his face.

“What’s that?”

“Well, Santa needs to eat his milk and cookies.”

“Oh, Really?” she asked as he sat down in his recliner. She
took the plate off the mantel and straddled his lap.

“Which one would you like first?” her eyes twinkled
mischievously.

“That one.” He pointed. He took a bite as she held it out for
him. “Oh, wow. These are awesome, Kit. You have got to make
these again next year.”

She giggled as he dropped crumbs all down his front.

“Such a sloppy Santa. Do you need some help?”

With a twinkle in his eye, he answered, “Of course, are you
going to clean me up, Mrs. Claus?”

“Kitty Claus. I like the ring of that.”

Mark nearly snarfed. “My Kitty does not have claws. Come here…”

Mark pulled her down in front of the fire they’d built in the
fireplace. Some show the kids watched said that the fire needed
to be there, or Santa wouldn’t come. Since it was on TV of
COURSE it had to be true, but the fire was welcome. Mark placed
the cookies on the hearth before leaning back and wrapping his
arm around Kit. He nuzzled her ear and murmured, “The kids are
asleep.”

“Why Santa.” She grinned as she leaned into his oncoming kiss.
Her fingers came up to his jaw, stroking the beard as his tongue
flickered against her cheek. She turned in his embrace, catching
…End of the part1. To be continued..

A work of fantasy

Wednesday, November 12th, 2008

Oh, and I work hard on my writing�so guess what? Its mine. That’s right boys and girls�its copyrighted�so if you want it? Just askJ we’ll talk.

Dryad

Dear Nancy,
Okay, I’m running out of “good” stationary and envelopes. So sue me. Or run off to Canada with me. Either way, I love you. You know that, but I’ll tell you again anyway. I LOVE YOU.”

The letter goes on, but she folds it closed. Her shoulders shudder slightly, breath hard to pull into her lungs. What a mess I’ve gotten myself into she thinks. The rest of the letter falls into her lap.

Nancy gazes out through the window. A nice house, nice yard. She hears her children playing outside on the swing. Daniel will be home soon. After being married for 9 years, she still loves him. But something stirs in her. I’m more than the sum of my parts! She cries out internally, though her face still holds the stoic, patient look it always does. She leans back in the kitchen chair and closes her eyes.

She met Ethan quite by accident. Friends goaded her into visiting a chat online. It was innocent fun, visiting with these people. Until Ethan. Ethan was- IS her soul mate. Never has anyone been so intuitive of her needs, any of them, and unstintly cherished and took care of them. But this was after Daniel.

So as any good wife, she fought it. God, did she fight. Her mantra became, he’s just a friend, he’s just a friend. But friends don’t talk of kissing like that. Or touching. His words became virtual caresses, touching her deep in her soul, until she no longer needed physical presence to make her cum harder than she ever had. But she kept making excuses in her mind. He’s so far away�its just harmless fantasy. But she knew it was becoming more real than any relationship she had.

Then the phone calls started. Then, suddenly, he was here. He was here so close he could be touched. And still, she tried to be good, even if it meant going against her heart. Until the second meeting. Her eyes flutter at the memory. Caution, certainly, but stolen touches� soft hands on smooth skin� whispered words of love-Kisses that went on forever and then some, the kind that enlarge your soul until you can no longer be concerned about anything but that moment in time�and certainly it seems longer than that. Even now, she can feel the tease of his tongue, the tenderness and depth of the love within that simple kiss.

She didn’t mean for this. She wars with herself. If things had been different, she would be with Ethan. No question. But things are as they are. And responsibilities and yes, love, are what she has. But there are so many different ways to love, and yes, even love romantically. Anyone who says you can’t love more than one person is either stingy, or close-minded. But she believes in promises. And lets face it, marriage is just one big promise. And she wars, why couldn’t I have waited? Or, why can’t I let him go? Or wondering if all her ideals are for nought, and she’s a fool for not grasping the brass ring.

She reads the end of the letter�
“I can’t do something temporary and meaningless. I’m too shy with strangers (yes, I am!) to do that. But anyway- I will always be yours. The deepest corners of my heart, where secrets are hidden even from me, will always find your name carved on their walls. Your mark is on my soul, and the mark will never disappear.”

Copyright Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com) 2001

blond dates part2

Tuesday, November 11th, 2008

“Lucky guy.” He snickered as she turned away.

She sat back down in her car and waited, wondering if she was in for a repeat performance.
She didn’t have to wait long, as a blue car pulled up beside her. He smiled brightly at
her (he saw her photo, she hadn’t seen his). And she knew. She stepped out of the car,
locked it, and opened his passenger door. Her smile must have been brighter with relief
because his brightened as well, and it was all the sweeter for the sense of nervousness she
felt in it.

“You here to meet someone?” He smiled at her.

“Yeah, My name is Daphne.”

“I’m Matt.”

They shook hands like business associates, and giggled. She climbed in, as he asked where
did she want to go. Okay, maybe this is not a smart idea; it wasn’t. But something about
him, something she couldn’t describe, made her feel at home with him, like an old friend.
Maybe it was his nervousness, how it showed through in the mundane chattiness she listened
to. Maybe it was her own hormones outweighing her judgment.

With the thought of parking, they took off toward a large mall. They drove through the
darkness, feeling each other out first verbally, then a bit physically, hands traveling
thighs, shoulders—hair. By the time they reached their destination, they were
comfortable with each other, definitely wanting each other. But the parking lot was
very bright, and not exactly conducive to what they had in mind. They began to wander
the back roads, and found an open lot. They drove up, and shut the lights off.

There was an awkward pause as they looked at each other. They smiled, and leaned into each
other for a kiss. It wasn’t a timid kiss; they fell to each other as one would at a feast
after a famine. Their hands pulled at their clothes. She tugged his shirt out of his
waist, as he slid hers off her shoulders. Scrambling in the small car, they squirmed
to rid themselves of barriers. Still kissing, they lurched into the back seat. She
reached low and felt his hard, thick cock pointing upward. She measured it with her
hand, sighing into the kiss appreciatively. She released the kiss, and slid down low
to give such a beautiful cock the appropriate worshipping it deserved. She flicked the
head, watching it jump, and absorbing the guttural moan it incited from her companion.
She smiled up in the half dark, and slid her mouth down over the head, applying pressure
and a gentle suction. Her hands moved over the rest of his length, until they reached
his balls, which she lightly squeezed. Her mouth continued its journey down, moving
slowly up and down the length of him, savoring the wonderful feeling of cock in her
mouth. She would moan at the simple pleasure, and then smile at the jerk his cock would
give at the added stimulation. He sighed warmly, brushing her hair back, before pressing
her on her back.

She could see the pleasant smile in the dark. He gave her a small kiss, then began to
worship her in the same respect. His tongue teased her core, flitting one side, then
the other; never entering, never hitting her clit. She squirmed in delirium, panting
wildly. She stroked his hair, until he started entering her. Long slow licks finishing at
her clit, making her squeal and jump. She arched into his mouth, her legs unconsciously
wrapping around his head, holding him in tighter as she neared her own orgasm. Her moans
became louder, more insistent, as she felt the delicious tension getting closer and closer
to breaking. She screamed his name as she came. She felt him sit up, her legs limp around
him, as she heard him open a package. Then he was on her again, pressing into her. She
shuddered, so close already to another orgasm, so well was he filling her. She shuddered
beneath him, her fingers digging into his back, careful even now not to scratch or
leave marks. He pressed into her slowly, eliciting a deep guttural moan from her.
His pace quickened, both hungry for each other. Her body began to bow as her second
orgasm came upon her, shrieking into the dark. As she came back down, she pressed him
back, and straddled his lap. She pressed her chest into his, kissing him warmly, and
began to ride him. She smiled into the kiss, shivering occasionally at the feeling of
him inside her. She sighed into the shared kiss, and felt him begin to tense. She rode
him harder and faster, feeling his own completion nearing. He groaned as he came, and
even with the condom, she could feel it against her sides. She continued to ride him,
softly, slowly, drawing out his orgasm as long as possible. She settled over him as she
heard his breathing slow and become more controlled. They kissed each other softly.

“Wow.” He whispered to her.

“Mmmhmm, you’re rather incredible yourself.” She smiled back at him. She gave him a soft kiss.

They moved to the front seats, and began making sense of their disarrayed clothes. She
leaned over and kissed him again.

“I’m glad the others stood me up. This was FAR better.” She smirked.

He smiled back, with a small amount of disbelief in his eyes. He started the car,
and drove her back to the McDonalds and her car. They touched each other gently on
the way back, asking about the small details of the other’s life, falling into the comfort
of the other’s company, and she realized she liked him on a personal level as well as a sexual.

When they arrived, they exchanged email addresses. Yes, they did keep in touch…

But that is another story.

Copyright Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com) 2002

blond dates

Monday, November 10th, 2008

This is a work of fantasy. It is not about real people, and if it is, its not what they
would do. (not that you are likely to know them anyway). If you are under 18, go away,
since I don’t like to get in trouble. If you are turned off by perversion, what are you
doing at asstr? In other words, go away. If none of this applies to you, great! Read on!
Have fun! Let me know what you like!
Oh, and I work hard on my writing…so guess what? Its mine. That’s right boys and girls…its
copyrighted…so if you want it? Just ask- we’ll talk.

Dryad
******************************************************************************

“Oh, God, I’m horny!” she thought to herself. She began looking through the chat room for
fresh meat. This one was too far away, this one wanted a submissive…She started humming an
old song, “Where have all the good men gone…” she giggled to herself. She teased this one,
cajoled that one, was frankly a little cyber cock tease, hoping to entice someone within her
range.

She knew what she wanted. A hunger this deep was not going to be quenched with a single man,
no matter how incredible he was. She felt herself crawling her mental walls, shrieking in
need. “For all the supposedly horny men in here, you’d think I could find a few that wanted
a good time!” She felt herself getting even wetter, and knew she’d have to clean her chair
once more after she got offline. She squirmed, finding a few friends interested, but timing
just wasn’t there. She moaned audibly, looking for some sort of relief beyond her humming toy.

“Where do you live? How old are you? Are you married? What do you like?”
She felt like she was interviewing for a position; then she smirked to herself, in reality
she was, her ass, her mouth or her pussy.

She got quite a gang going, even others looking for her, wanting a full report of the
activities in repayment. She made dates with a few, setting up one for that evening that
might lead to something more group oriented another night. With time and a public meeting
place, (She was horny not stupid) she got offline.

She squirmed. After all, she didn’t know these men. She wanted to dress sexy, accessible,
but not so sexy or accessible as to invite danger if the man wasn’t all he was cracked up
to be. She wore a just above the knee miniskirt, one she often wore to work. No nylons,
they’d get in the way, and she hadn’t worn underwear unless necessary for a number of
years now. She wore a soft sweater, one that would tease her skin, and possibly their
hands. No makeup, so perfume, so careful to think of their positions, as some were married,
and who wanted to get snagged on a simple thing like a perfume? She pulled her long coat
over her outfit, fluffed her long hair, grabbed her keys, and headed out the door.

The first meeting. They were to meet at a local college. She was there a few minutes
early, between anticipation and location; it was much closer to her. She sat outside,
waiting to see who came up to her. Students milled around her, some catching rides
from friends and parents. She looked at the time, realizing he was late. If it was one
thing she couldn’t stand, it was someone who was late. But, to be fair, perhaps he had
a problem finding it, or traffic, or parking. So she waited.

A half hour after the designated time, she got up and drove the short distance home.
His loss. While she was still violently horny, and getting hornier by the second, she had
to laugh at her new lesson…some men were all talk, and couldn’t follow up.

“God, I need something…and its not getting any better!” She gets back online, and starts
over, picking up where she leaves off. One who had spoken of meeting, but had been too
late, catching her after the other. Nothing really stood out about him; he was another
in a sea of human sexuality. But he was close, really close. Her mind went offline, and
her libido took over, asking him to meet her at a McDonalds.

She shivered in anticipation, unable to keep her fingers out of her pussy on the way there.
It felt so decadent, so crazy to meet a total stranger for sex. She pulled up, looking for
a blue foreign car. She was a few minutes early, but he was closer to the place than she was.
She saw one, but saw two men in it. It wasn’t exactly the model she’d been told, but she’d
never been good at cars. Perhaps seeing how she was playing online had made him bring a
friend. She saw them look at her, and wondered why they didn’t come over. They looked
uncouth, scraggly. She shuddered for a moment, wondering what she’d gotten into. When
they didn’t come over, she got out of her car, and walked up to theirs.

“Are you here to meet someone?”

“Yes, we are.” The one in the driver seat replied.

“Do you mind if I ask who?” she was still hoping.

“Oh, just his brother.” He jerked a finger at his passenger and he smiled with his tobacco
stained teeth. “You have a blind date?”

“Yeah, is it that obvious?” she smiled, being polite, too relieved to mind anymore.

…End of the part1. To be continued..

The Art of the Kiss

Sunday, November 9th, 2008

His lips breathe softly over hers; the merest hint of a touch. They do not linger,
but pull back, so his eyes could gaze into her faraway eyes. She smiled slowly,
leaning into him. Their lips connected, embraced, teasing—nuzzling lightly. His
tongue flicked out to trace the sensuous outline of her lip. Her own tongue flicked
out to meet his own, tempting him further. He pulled back his tongue, closing his lips.
He taunted her unmercifully, making her moan slightly. She leaned further into him,
greedy for his kiss. Languorously, he nuzzled, softly brushing his lips. Her mouth
opened in reflex, silently begging for a more intimate attention. With a low moan, his
tongue entered her softly. He flicked at her own tongue, before exploring her upper palate,
her teeth, her cheek. Slowly he made his way around, languidly. Her arms wrapped
around his neck, as her chest pressed into his. She did her best to entice him,
to draw him further, but he held back. She whimpered in need, and he smiled into her
lips. His actions became more energetic. Teeth nipped at her lips, before suckling
on her tongue, pulling it into his mouth. She returned the heightened ardor, nipping
on his own lip, sucking it into her mouth before releasing it. As he did, his hands
roamed lightly over her back, caressing her before pulling her even closer to him. She
leaned into him eagerly, their tongues rolling over the other’s like acrobats at play.
They exchanged breath. Fingers tightened on each other’s bodies. They pulled apart
slowly, smiling.

copyright Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com) 2002

Afraid

Saturday, November 8th, 2008

By Dryad

I was walking into Mr. Allan’s class when Gary spoke to me.

“I signed up.”

“Signed up for what?” For a sport? For a class? What?

“The Marine recruiter is down in the guidance office.” The Marines? Was he crazy? I looked into his face. Purpose and excitement.

“What about College?” I guess I was saying what about me. He thought it was a fucking game! Go play soldier. Didn’t he realize people DIED?

Died. Then I got scared. I mean, we’d been going out for 2 years now, ever since he moved into town.

“You know I gotta go. College will be here when I come back.” He kissed me. The bell rang, and we took our seats. English class flew by; I didn’t hear a word. I sat next to him, covertly watching him.

After English, we went down to study hall. The junior/senior study hall was open, and ever since the war began, they’d put the large screen TV in there, so we could watch CNN. We sat close to it, watching the night-vision commentaries; him in anticipation, me in dread. I held his hand, as if I could keep him here with me.

I took a deep breath. All the “experts” seem to say it won’t last long. So I began to do something stupid. I started to pray. Pray to God, pray to fate, hell, pray to any greater being who’d listen. Make it end. Make it end before graduation. I gripped his hand tighter. He looked at me, questioningly. I couldn’t answer. I rested my head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around me. I willed myself not to cry.

Fuck. I hate being selfish. Here I am worried about me, how it will affect me and my plans.

“Why?” I finally managed to whisper.

He squeezed me tighter, “Aw, honey, it’s not about you, it’s about what’s right.”

He was the one who was going. Willing to stand up to the bullies of the world; hell, whip their ass. I squeezed him tightly to me. The teacher walked up to us, make us split up, I’m sure.

Then he did something strange.

“Gary, you were in the guidance office this morning, weren’t you?”

“Yep.”

“You’re going?”

He nodded shyly. Gary was always cute that way; one of the things I loved about him was his modesty. Like he never realized what a great guy he was.

Instead of making us sit apart, he just smiled this weird adult smile and walked away. I swear, I nearly lost it. I felt Gary kiss the top of my head, his arm holding me tighter to him. We sat and watched the news repeat the same news bytes over and over until the end of study hall.
That night he came over after he got home from work. He asked my parents if it was all right if we went out for a drive, since it was a school night. My parents of course, loved him. My dad just nodded when I told him that Gary’d enlisted. He seemed to expect it. Maybe its some sort of guy thing that I just can’t understand.

While he was at work, I poured my anger into my diary. My hurt, my fear. Because as I started thinking about it, I realized what it was.

I was afraid. Afraid how this would change him, change US. I knew change was coming, I mean, we’re leaving school; but I never considered that we’d be apart. War is so REAL. What would I do if he died? I can’t act the widow; we aren’t married. All I heard in my head was “just a girlfriend” Just. Jesus. He could have at least talked to me about it!

But he couldn’t. I tried to be logical about this. It’s his life. Hell, in some ways, he thinks it’s a responsibility. And damn it, I hated to say it.

It is.

Then I got really proud of him. HE didn’t need to be called; he enlisted of his own free will. He knew what’s at stake. And part of me–the part that isn’t selfish– loved him even more.

I’ll try to be a bigger person. I quashed down that selfish part, told it to shut the hell up, that it doesn’t know what it’s talking about.

So when he asked my parents if we could go for a drive, I knew what he was asking me. My parents, said yes, though they never had before. We drove around for a bit, just quietly talking about whatever, but avoiding the real topic. We made it to one of our make out places. Yes, we had a few. He turned off the car, and we climbed into the back. For a while, he just held me, kissing me softly. I sat in his lap, curling up against him. My fingers traced his face and I could feel his smooth skin. I sighed into the kiss.

I leaned into his body, wanting him closer to me. In my head I was already counting down the time to when he’d be shipped off to San Diego for basic. Three months, more or less. Five months until he’d be shipped overseas. I sighed again, holding him close to me. His hands moved to my waist, sliding beneath my shirt and skimming my chest to my breasts. I shifted in his lap, and straddled him, as his hands shed me of my shirt, momentarily breaking our kiss. His lips returned, but to my breasts, rather than to my mouth. My back arched as I moaned in response. His mouth was hungry, and I was desperate for this closeness. My fingers worked through his hair, pulling him closer to me. He rolled, and placed me laying on my back. The moonlight reflected in his earnest eyes. I could see the unspoken question in his eyes.

I leaned up and kissed him gently, easing his t-shirt over his head. We kissed again, my chest pressed up against his chilled skin. His body shivered, and it made me smile. Suddenly, I felt powerful. I nibbled on his chin, my fingers sliding down his back to his jeans. A slight tug got him looking at me again.

We tried to squirm out of our respective jeans, both of us giggling at the contortions necessitated by the small confines of the back seat. Then, he came to me. I could feel the heat his dick brought against my thigh. I shivered, not sure of the decision I was about to make.

For the last 2 years, I’d said no. Victorian charm, fear, censure, morality; call it what you will. I loved Gary. He knew that. And it’s not like I never let him do anything; we’d fooled around as much as any other teenage couple; we just never actually “did it”.

But fear is a powerful thing and I needed to be closer. I arched into him, moaning his name, as he nibbled at my neck. I pressed my pelvis into his, silently begging for more. Gary must’ve felt the difference in my reactions because he leaned up from me. I gave a barely perceptible nod.

Shaking, he asked, “Are you sure?”

I leaned up to kiss him in response. He jumped, and I had to giggle as he hit his head on the roof of the car. He reached into the front seat to get his wallet out of his jeans, and pulled out a condom. Putting it on the ledge behind the back seat, he leaned back down to kiss me. His fingers went down lower, teasing my pussy. His fingers moved within me, making me jerk beneath him. My breath became ragged, until I was begging him. Quickly he slipped on the condom, and nervously pressed his head against my opening. It felt different, bigger than his fingers, firmer. I breathed deeply, shakily as my body started to get used to the feeling. I opened my eyes to see him watching my face for my reactions. I smiled gently at him and pressed back against him.

I felt the pull as something tore, and my body tensed. He groaned, visibly shaking to keep still.
He murmured, “God, you are so beautiful,” then slowly pulled out. It ached a bit, then he pressed gradually back in. He moved gently inside me, his eyes focused on my face. I watched the concern and love and yes, fear, in his eyes. Even in the half-dark, I could read their glittering depths. I leaned up and kissed him, first tenderly, then more passionately.

It was as if I had given him permission, and he was pressing into me more and more firmly. The ache was gone, only a fullness and a yearning. I pressed up against his bucking thighs, moaning incoherently. He continued, as he stroked the sweat soaked hair out of my face. I could feel his thrusts getting choppier. With a deep groan, he jerked against me, and I felt the sudden expansion of his dick.

I was panting, still unfulfilled. He collapsed against me, kissing my breast, moaning against my skin. Suddenly, he shifted, his hand reaching lower.

“I’m sorry. I just couldn’t help myself. You’re so beautiful.” He gasped out. And as he said it, his fingers found my clit, flicking it quickly. My inner muscles squeezed against his deflating cock, causing him to moan. His fingers moved faster, practiced at making me cum this way. It didn’t take him long to get me to join him, and I was shrieking my praise.

We laid down together spoon style on the seat, his arm curled around me, holding me to me. I felt him whisper in against my hair.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“You’ve said that already.”

“Well, it bears repeating. I love you.” He was quiet for a moment, his fingers moving idly over my skin. “I’ll come back. I promise.” His fingers stilled, then squeezed me.

I whispered quietly as I turned to look at him, “don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“Your love for me will keep me safe.” I looked at him. If he weren’t so serious, so earnest, it would have sounded like the corniest thing in the world. But I saw the look in his eyes. And there was nothing I wanted more than to believe him.

Copyright Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com) 2003

God in Heaven

Friday, November 7th, 2008

By Dryad
(MF, Exh, Flash)

Her hand gripped the bench in front of her before returning to her lap.

“What are you doing?” she whispered frantically.

His enigmatic smile and his fingers climbing her thigh beneath her dress were his only answer. They brushed lightly, teasing her sensitive skin. Her lids fluttered as he caressed small circles on her inner thigh, creeping ever closer to the line of her panties. She squirmed, trying to dislodge his hand, but he was determined. His eyes focused forward, but his hand…

She shifted upon the bench, sitting ramrod straight. Her body was tense as his fingers cleared the barrier of elastic and softly stroked her damp lips. They receded, then returned only to delve deeper. His fingertip found, then fluttered, over the taut pearl he unearthed. Again and again he flickered his finger against it until she thought she’d faint with bliss. Her hand tightened on the papers in her lap, rustling them slightly. She could see the ghost of a smile on his face as she fought for control. Her teeth bit down on her lower lip, holding back her need to moan, to squeal, to cry out.

And still his fingers teased and tempted her core.

She felt the tension coming, afraid of coming, not wanting to come, but as certain as the sun, the waves started to envelop her.

“Oh, GOD!” she cried out.

“Can I have an ‘Amen, Sister!’ Another Soul saved!” the preacher called out as the congregation turned toward her blushing face.

copyright Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com)2003

Eddies

Thursday, November 6th, 2008

[A Fisherman's Widow Tale]
(MF, Exh, WL)

Copyright by me, ask for permission to repost. If you can’t go see a NC17 movie, get outta here. Blowjob principle applies.
Thanks to Desdmona!!! for her grand editing work…And Nick Scipio and Gary for ummm clearing up my “maleness”
*************************************************************
Escape
By Dryad (MF,Oral,cheat)

I rapped my knuckles on the screen door as I held the box with my other hand. Another quick job; replace a CDRW drive, get in and get out. I sighed as I looked at my watch. I waited a few moments, then saw her peek through the glass.

First I was struck by how her girl-next-door features fit the voice I heard when I called to set up the appointment. As she opened the door for me, the second thing I noticed was a bit more unprofessional of me: her nipples pressed out against her soft sweater.

“Come on in,” she said as I shook myself out of my reverie. “Ignore the mess, I haven’t had a chance to clean.”

She led me through the kitchen. A few breakfast dishes sat in the sink. On the table, an open tin of crayons sat beside a small stack of coloring books. This was nothing compared to some kitchens I’d been forced to walk through. “Whose kitchen DOESN’T look like this?”

She shrugged and kept walking. I followed. She was truly small–barely five feet. At six-foot-four, I tower over the average woman. She would barely reach my chest.

We passed through an equally lived-in but well kept living room to her office. She looked embarrassed as she led me in. “I’m sorry it’s such a disaster. It’s supposed to be my office, but all sorts of stuff ends up getting tossed in here.”

I could see her point–broken toys, a Barbie house, and linens all jockeyed for space with the books and computer equipment in the small room. This was obviously her workspace, so why did everyone throw all their crap in here? Didn’t they care?

I sat down at the computer and began work–reset the screen, checked drivers and such. Verified the specs on the RAM, virus protections and the CD-RW driver. Her computer’s system wasn’t going to support the new CDRW that was sent so it was a good thing I brought the new program. After optimizing, it was time to open up the housing.

I’m used to having clients hang around and watch what I’m doing. After all, it is their system, their house. Doesn’t bother me. She stayed close though, closer than most carrying on inane chatter;

“Have you been doing this long?” She moved things about on her desk without any sort of rhyme or reason, her arm occasionally bumping into mine.

“A while; about five years.” I watched her from the corner of my eye as I worked. She flitted about like a bird, staying at my elbow, shuffling papers, then reshuffling them.

“Are you nervous?” I finally asked.

“Not at all!” she answered shrilly.

“No need to be,” I said as I opened up the tower. I turned to explain what I was going to do. She leaned over my shoulder for a closer look. Her breast brushed against me, and her nipple, hard as a pebble, pressed into my shoulder. It took a moment for me to refocus on what I was supposed to be doing. My fingers fumbled.

She pointed to the small flashlight I was using. “I could hold that for you if it would help.” I didn’t really need it, often doing this by sense of touch, but with her body so close to mine, my hands were unsteady. So I agreed.

She moved behind me and scrunched up close in the tight confines of the room. Her chest grazed my back. She moved like a feline–soft and sleek–but something was holding her back.

“Just a bit more this way.” I placed my hand over hers, redirecting the light. I was amazed at the difference; my large, thick fingers over her delicate, pale hand. Her fingers were cold, belying her earlier contention of not being nervous.

“What do you use the computer for?” I asked, trying to get back on track.

“I design web sites. Work for a couple different companies.” She shifted, bringing her body close to mine again. “I like the flexibility of working from home. If one of the children is sick, I don’t have to worry. If I want to go out for lunch, no big deal.” She was animated yet more relaxed than before.

“Well, it’s a lovely home you have.” Not bad for working from home.

“My husband’s and mine.” Her entire demeanor became subdued. The energy she had just seemed to disappear.

“You’re married?” I was surprised.

“Yeah.”

“What does your husband do?” I straightened up, having gotten the drive out.

“He’s a bus driver.” Her tone was abrupt.

“Kinda opposite ends of the spectrum there, huh?” She nodded, focusing on my hands. I pulled the new drive out of its packaging.

“That’s it? That’s great! They told me they wouldn’t be able to upgrade!” she rubbed her hands together, suddenly excited once more. I wonder if she realized how quickly she changed the subject, or for that matter, her mood in general.

“Well, your old drive was actually obsolete. Can’t even find it anymore. So now you have this one. It’s why your old driver won’t work.”

She grew silent as I worked the drive into the casing. She leaned closer into me, and I have to admit, she was making me feel hot under the collar. I knew she could hear my quickened breath, but damned if I could stop it or quiet it. I focused myself on getting the disk drive into the housing. It was a tight fit.

Of course, that set my brain in a whole other direction; at five feet tall, she would fit so snugly against my body, and my body shifted at the thought. I finally forced the stupid drive in, and I pinched my finger.

“Shit!” A really good blood blister began to bubble up. I made a tight fist until the sting diminished a little, and turned back to my work. With the drive in, I was able to close the tower back up and install the driver.

While it was loading, I asked her where the facilities were.

“Right around the corner,” she said, nodding towards the hallway.

I took care of business in the small room then washed my hands in the sink surrounded by children’s toothbrushes and Blue’s Clues soap.

As I came back from the bathroom, I noticed it. A hole in the wall. Directly across from the office door, a large hole, as if someone had been leaning against the wall to break down the office door, and instead broke through the sheetrock. You could almost see the indent of a shoulder. Don’t know how I missed it before. She’d apologized for just about everything else in the house, she must’ve forgotten the hole was there. How could you forget something like that? It reeked of anger. I shook my head. She didn’t belong; but then again, no woman belonged in a place that bespoke of violence.

I went back into the office. Her back was to me, fiddling with books on the bookshelf, straightening papers on her desk. I watched for a moment, then cleared my throat. She jumped at the sound before turning around.

“You’re blushing.” I could smell her scent, could see her fighting some need

Her hand flew to her face, cupping her cheek. “Really? I haven’t blushed in ages.”

“Mmmhmm. Right down your chest.” I looked at the dip in her V-neck sweater. Her eyes followed my gaze. A crimson flush blazed across her pale flesh. She surprised me by lowering her hand and stroking her flushed skin.

“Would you like to see how far down it goes?” She said it so quietly, I almost missed it.

Her head was down, not looking at me, as if she were a good little catholic girl about to give her first real confession. My God, she was shaking! I cursed the fool who made her feel ashamed of her body, ashamed of her desire.

“Whatever you want to do is fine with me.” I struggled with wanting to touch her, comfort her, but it wouldn’t be me choosing how this thing continued. This was her battle, her demon. Slowly, she lifted the hem of her sweater, pulling it up over her breasts. My breath caught.

She was beautiful.

Her skin something a Renaissance artist would have painted. She looked up at me, saw the look on my face, my hands clenched at my sides.

“It’s okay if you want to touch them.” My fingers itched for just such a thing. The round curves leading up to her crinkled, apricot nipples. Slowly, as though reaching for a skittish colt, my fingers brushed up the outside curve of her breast. My fingers circled their heft, kneading them gently, then more firmly. Her body shivered and swayed against me. My thumbs flickered lightly over her nipples. She moaned softly at first, then with more fervor.

Her tone shifted, and I knew she was about to ask for more. My hands moved over her warm, malleable breasts as my brain raced ahead to what I should–what I _would_ do–if she asked. She deserved better than what I’d seen, certainly, but I also knew this wasn’t about me. Her hand left my chest and I could hear the soft sound of a zipper being undone. Suddenly, she stepped away from me and left her skirt in a puddle on the floor at her feet. She stood there for a moment in all her nude glory. I didn’t know what to do.

She took the decision out of my hands when she suddenly knelt before me. Her fingers raked my pants down my legs, raising a sigh from me. My dick popped out and her eyes grew wide. Her fingers touched me as she looked up. It jumped at her touch, and I was no longer able to deny her anything. She placed her warm lips against my head and sucked it into her mouth. My legs shivered, and I pulled the computer chair over to me. I collapsed in it, and she never lost connection.

She was amazing and enthusiastic, that much was certain. She could take my entire length in her mouth and throat, a feat all in itself. But she also managed to know exactly when I was about to come and pulled back just enough to keep me on the edge. It was about the third time she did this when my brain kicked back in, and I realized that this was all wrong. Not necessarily the sex, that was her choice, but that here I was taking and not giving. From what I’d seen, that in itself was a gross error.

Slowly, I pulled her off my aching cock and turned her around. She looked concerned until I began to stroke her steaming pussy. God, she was so hot and wet. Her knees buckled, and I caught her.

“Lean back.” I hushed.

She fell back against my chest, her head nestled into the crook of my neck. My hands continued to investigate all her secrets, finding first her moist depths, rubbing quickly against her clitoris. Her body arched and climbed up higher on my body. Her moans became squeals, and then squeals became whines. One hand wandered back up to her soft breasts. I picked up speed over her clitoris, and whines turned into shrieks. Tension eased from her body as she lay against me, sated.

After a few moments, she whispered, “Let me return the favor.”

“You don’t need to do that,” but she had already slipped between my legs, sucking my hardness back into her gifted mouth. She slid my thickness deep, making me squirm and utter sounds I haven’t uttered in ages. My fingers gently stroked her hair from her face as I moaned what few words of praise I could squeak out. It didn’t take long this time for me to feel the impending onrush. I grasped the chair’s armrests until my knuckles were white as my orgasm erupted into her mouth. I was shocked as she continued to swallow. The head of my penis squeezed in her throat. My groaned “Thank Yous” mixed with my cries to God as I continued to pump into her mouth.

It took me a moment to regain my sense of self. At first, I felt a bit guilty for taking advantage of her, but her radiant smile soon put that thought, at least temporarily, out of my head. I sighed as I pulled myself back together.

I still had a bit of work to do. Reluctantly, I checked the new drivers, making sure everything worked well. I called my boss to let him know the new additions and the edited time of my arrival. I boxed up the old disc drive while she signed my paperwork. She led me to the door.

I stood at the door, looking at her dispirited beauty. Having to leave but not wanting to. “If he’s not careful, he’s going to lose you.”

She nodded.

I looked for a moment longer, then stepped out the door.

Copyright Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com) 2003

Annsachd MF First WL part2

Wednesday, November 5th, 2008

“A Bath? M’lord. T’is not healthy!” I bit my tongue as soon as the words spilled out, even though everyone knew bathing made you ill. He glared down at me. I blushed in my embarrassment, curtsying, “I’m sorry m’lord, I’ve forgotten my place.”

Aline, the maid, who I found was a distant cousin of Tilde, tried her best to make me feel comfortable.

“Bathing here isn’t the same as it is in the village. Warm water, in very warm room, with scents in your bath to make you smell fresh as the dawn. I will be with you until he comes to you, so do not be afraid, Child. It will not be long.” And a mutter under her breath as she led me into the bathing room, “it never is.”

Ignoring that cryptic comment, I started to loosen the ties on my dress. She helped me to pull it over my head, stopping a moment to look at the work. “You and your mother do very fine work. You should be proud. It is a lovely dress.”

I nodded and smiled, but felt odd to be standing in my shift before a stranger. My face must have heated up, for she took a sonsy tone, “Don’t worry about it, child. T’is common, and nothing I have not seen before.”

Slowly, shyly, I pulled my shift over my head then stepped cautiously into the tub. The water felt like nothing I’d been in before. Sweet herbs and steam teased my nose as I slowly slid into the full tub. I felt myself relax in the warmth until I nearly forgot what was about to occur. It was much too soon when I stood to be rinsed, and was rubbed dry.

“Put this on, dear.” This was a beautiful night shift of fine linen, finer in fact than anything I had ever seen.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t! T’is far too fine for me.”

“Tosh! Take it Child, it’s the only thing of any value you’ll take home from tonight. As though he could replace what he will be taking, but he gives one of these to each bride that comes.” With a nod and a shrug, I pulled it over my head. She pulled the torch of rushes off the wall, before climbing stairs.

The room itself was fairly dark. The logs in the fireplace and the rush torch were the only light in the room. A large bed was silhouetted by the light, making it seem larger and more imposing. I fell back, and brushed against Aline. “T’is only the light that makes it fearful. Go in, and I will get you settled.”

I crossed the chilled room, and clambered up into the high bed. So soft! I couldn’t imagine how many winter fowl had died to make such a comfortable bed. The bedclothes were heavy and warm.

It was then I determined not to be swayed by such richness. T’would be easy to do. This is not here for me, but for M’lord, to whom I’m about to become a chore. My Ian loves me, and I would rather be in our little home, on a heather mattress than here surrounded by all these riches about to be sacrificed in the name of some Lord. I’ll do my duty, but I don’t have to enjoy it.

Aline tucked me in, then withdrew with the promise that she would be back after Lord Farrington left.

I heard him enter before I saw him, He was without his wig, and I could see his hair was thin for the firelight reflected off his scalp. He shucked of his clothing and moved across the bed. The bedclothes were removed from my body, and he pulled up my nightdress. I felt his substantial weight over me, and felt him press against me. I forced myself to relax, somehow knowing it would be worse if I were tense. This seems so wrong! I wanted to cry out, but knew t’would be no matter. He pressed into me, feeling my maidenhead. I could feel the pressure, the dull ache. He began to hum and mumble some bawdy tune from court, and I gasped. He thrust through it and though I wanted to scream, I would not give him the pleasure. He continued to hum, thrusting in and out of my limp body in rhythm to the song. Such an odd habit.

The blood made it easier to endure. Not that it was really much to endure; shortly after, he trembled mightily, then fell to the side of me, removing himself from my body. A few moments more and he gathered his clothing and left.

Praise the Saints!

It didn’t take Aline long to show up.

“If ever there was a time when I would be grateful for one of those baths, Mistress Aline, I believe it t’would be now.” I murmured.

“Of course, Child, come with me. Do you feel you can stand?”

“I am stronger than I look.” Stronger than that man, that much is for certain.

We made our way back down the stairs to the bathing room. The tub was already filled.

“You knew?” I was astonished.

“T’is common to feel the need to rid your body of an unwanted touch. I would have been more surprised if you had NOT asked.”

I nodded mutely, anxious to be in the bath. My body slipped in and I let the warmth remove the feeling of his clammy skin and foul breath.

“Mistress Aline, may I ask a bold question?”

“Of course.”

“Is it always like that?” It couldn’t be. Ian loved me. But I had to know if that is what I had to look toward to.

“Goodness no Child. The lord has no love of you, nor quite frankly, love of the deed. Your true wedding night will be much different, and I daresay much better.”

I nodded in response, thankful at least that my feelings were right.

I don’t know how long I was in it, but Aline helped me out. Once again I dried off, and pulled on the nightshift. This time she led me to a different room.

“You can sleep in peace here, child.” The room was small, with a common bed. I gained comfort from those things that were known to me. It took me very little time to fall asleep surrounded by the scent of heather.

The next morning, Aline once again helped me to dress. I hugged her, appreciating all she had done for me. One of the lord’s men held me gently in front of them. He went slowly, and I can only guess he was considering my comfort. I whispered a thank you for his kindness.

The trip seemed shorter this time, perhaps because it was something I was looking forward to.

The wedding party was still there, since the first Prima Nocte, the village would continue the party to keep the groom occupied and in reasonable cheer. I rushed down, turning only a moment to thank the lord’s man for his attention. Then I rushed to my Ian.

He only looked better to me. I reached for him, hoping he would not hold what was done against me. I looked in his eyes, and saw the relief as he rushed toward me and swept me up into his arms.

“Annsachd, I will love you always,” he said as his lips, warm and full met mine.

The village party quickly began singing, leading us to our new home. We would be left there to celebrate our wedding properly. Gifts of food would be left at the doorstep for the first few days, a tradition I’m told is particular to our village. Ian lifted me up and carried me into our new home, his strength making me feel delicate. Then, the door was shut and we were alone.

“Did he hurt you?” he whispered.

“No more than should be expected.”

His voice grew quieter as he sat on the edge of our bed, “Will you miss him?”

“Oh, Annsachd!” I kissed him gently as I settled into his lap, “He may be Lord, and he may have fine things, but he has no fine manners. And all I could consider was this, even surrounded by that finery, I would rather be here, with you, even in our poor home. He had no love for me, and I’m not even entirely certain he knew my name.” My hands ranged his muscled shoulders and arms. “I missed you. And I did not make love with him. It was no different than setting a prize boar on a sow. He did his rutting with no spare thought for me, good or ill, and left. He did what he was required to do, as did I.”

I pulled away enough to look him in the eye. “Would you help me forget that?”

His lips fell quickly onto my own, his hands tugging at my ties. My own hands fell to his clothing, and I could not wait to see what sort of prize I had won when I married him.

We were quick and clumsy and we fell into bed beside each other. Hands moved over fevered skin, and I felt my own heart race. I looked into his face, and his eyes sparkled in the half light. The look seemed to change him, and he dawdled. His fingers drew fanciful designs upon my skin, causing me to moan in frustration; of what I knew not.

“Ian, Annsachd, please….”

He smiled, “Oh, I will please you, I will please you and myself as well.” His tongue flicked over my breasts and I gasped at such a touch. His fingers slowly crept toward my center, until they were there, exploring my tenderness.

I moved against him, desperate. My body knew, yet I did not. His lips trailed kisses down my stomach and then…

I went fuzzy. Hot breath and warm gentleness. I could feel my innards curl in waves, like the wind across the fields of barley. Finally, I could stand the tension no longer, and I cried out to God.

Ian quickly came back up to me, kissing my face, my eyes, my nose, my cheeks before settling back on my mouth. A different taste was on his lips, but t’was not foul. I felt his hardness press me, and almost against my will, I tensed. Then I forced myself to relax. This t’will be different, Mistress Aline said so.

A fullness I could not imagine filled my core. Slowly, so slowly, Ian pressed into me. I opened my eyes to see him watching my face closely, looking for signs of my discomfort. I smiled warmly at him, at this man I truly loved, and pressed back into him. I had been selfish, and wanted this to be as beautiful for him as for me.

I raised my hand up and around his neck, pulling him to me. I sought purchase to press myself farther against his shaft. I felt the waves begin again, and I sighed into the kiss we were sharing. I felt him shaking, and thought that it t’was nearly over.

“Shhh, Annsachd, I want to make this good for you. Do not rush me or we will be over before we’ve begun,” he said in a tortured whisper. And then I understood the shaking was his lapsing control. I tried to still my body, I did. But he felt so wonderful inside me, his warm skin against mine, and I could not help myself. I bucked against him and heard him moan. Such a sweet sound. I bucked again, and he growled. His hands moved to my hips to still me, but I was in a lust. I could not be stopped, and the waves crested. I screamed this time, my body releasing its tension wave after wave.

He looked down in amazement, his own breath coming in gasps. “You are beautiful, Annsachd, So beautiful.” And then he began to thrust wildly, pulling my hips against him. I continued to moan in that half sense caused by bliss. My body relaxed, so relaxed.

Ian, my Annsachd, my beloved, let out a mighty roar, and I could see the same tension course through his body. I pulled him down to me, tight against me.

It was then I heard it, “Huzzah! Huzzah!” and music began to play. I was certain if I went to the door now, there would be food upon the step, and the villagers would be celebrating our true union.

I chose to stay where I was, curled up against Ian and listen to his heartbeat. It would not be long before my humours came upon me. And then we could start working on our family in earnest.

Copyright Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com) 2003

Author’s Notes:
I don’t usually do quite this much research for a story, but I thought I would share what I learned.

Prima Nocte, First Night, or Droit de Signeur is a right that lords had where they could sleep with the subject brides on their wedding night. Most of my research states that this was not usual, more pockets than a universally followed right. It was used more as a literary tool. It first appears in the mid eighteenth century.

Powdered wigs also came into popularity during the mid eighteenth century. It made its way north from France, where Louis XIV brought it into style when he began losing his own hair. It was common for men to shave their heads to make the wig easier to wear. They were out of style as a fashion statement around the 1820’s in Europe.

Annsachd is Scot’s Gaelic for “beloved”.

Even in the eighteenth century, peasant houses were usually mud and wattle (woven branches). Wood, especially in the highlands of Scotland, would be a rare commodity. Stones were often used, but took much more work and knowledge so they were usually reserved for community buildings.

Annsachd MF First WL

Tuesday, November 4th, 2008

T’was the proper season. The barley crop had been harvested, the shearing done. My man. Goodness, the sound of that. Ian asked my father in the spring, and now that the bans had been observed, we were free to wed.

The village was excited. Everyone thought that Ian and I would be a good match, ever since I was a child. The day before the festivities, the children ran out and picked wildflowers. The wedding was to be done during the harvest festival. My mother took my dress out beyond the village, and set it across the sweet grass to bleach white in the sun. We spent most of our spare time over the summer making the dress and other things I’d need for my new home.

Ian had also been busy over the summer. He built our home near the edge of the village, where out the window we would be able to see the sheep grazing in the distance. The mud on the wattle had dried nicely, and t’would be a snug home. He’d built the few pieces of furniture we’d need, the bed, tied well with rope, and the mattress full of heather. He whitewashed the inside, so it seemed bright and airy.

We’d met with Father, where we learned about our new roles. He explained what the Latin said in the service, and how loving each other was an extension of God’s love for us.

He also explained about Prima Nocte.

One of the greater lords, an Englishman, had proclaimed that the lords under him have the right and duty to bed each woman under his rule on the night of her wedding. Ian turned green at the notion. My Ian is a brave sort, but it was the law, and nothing he could do. Father looked understandingly. A woman should pair with her husband; “Therefore, what God hath put together, let no man separate.” He had no love of the law.

Of course, what Father didn’t share with us then was why our lord felt so inclined to force such a sinful law upon his good people.

The eve before the wedding, Father asked me to come to chapel to pray with him. When I entered, I saw the midwife speaking with him. I attempted to stay in the shadow, as I didn’t wish to interrupt a private matter.

“Evie, come my child. Tilda is here for us tonight,” he called out when he heard the door shut behind me. I slowly made my way up to the altar.

“Before we start our prayers, my dear, we must purify ourselves. Drink this.”

The midwife handed me a cup. “Drink it all now dear.”

I sputtered on the first sip, “T’is bitter!” Then, seeing the look they gave me, nodded and did my best to finish the drink.

We knelt before the altar, praying that I would follow the good and true path of wife. We prayed to that men in power would see the sinful nature of Prima Nocte. We prayed to God to forgive me and to console my soon to be husband for the morrow. “in Deus, Patri et Spiritus Sanctus,” the father intoned, as we all crossed ourselves. We bowed to the altar and moved away.

“Evie,” the midwife called to me.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Expect your humours to attend you in two to three days.” She looked at Father. “The purifying drink will bring them on.”

Certainly, I will go to hell for this! It is sinful! I gasped aloud.

“Yes, dear. I know. But desperate times call for desperate measures. And I tell you in Father’s presence, you are still a child of God, and will not be punished in this life or the next for what you’ve done this night.” Father nodded, blushing.

“T’will protect your womb from a seed that does not belong there. When your cycle starts, our Lord will know he has not sired off you, as he has not done off a girl from this village in these past years. Have you not heard what they call him in court?”

“Now, Tilde, we do not need to pass around court gossip. It has served us well to remind our Lord that he cannot bend God’s will and command. You must submit your body; there is nothing we can do about that. But we have protected your family.”

“Thank you, Father. Thank you, Tilde. I must go and tell Ian. He t’will be relieved. By your leave?” Father nodded, and I hurried out of the chapel.

I explained to Ian, who then laughed. “I always wondered how it was that there were never any of his seed running about here. It does take trouble off my mind. Not that I don’t want you round with our child. I look forward to seeing you like that. Often. Ours will be a big, happy family. You’ll see, Annsachd.” He whispered this last to me, his mouth close to my ear. I turned, so I could feel his lips against my cheek.

The morning was bright, and I danced about in glee. “Thank you God, for such a gift!” My mother smiled at me for speaking such out loud. I was a bit sad, no longer would I be in this home, most of my belongings had already been moved to the new house. A few linens, a few changes of clothes, as I would wear my wedding gown to the Lord’s keep.

Mother and my sister helped me put on the dress, tying the laces, and tucking in bits of rosemary for remembrance and late heather to match the crown the children had woven for me. We walked carefully through the dusty street to the stone chapel.

Everyone was there, the entire village; my rivals, my friends, my family. My father walked me to the altar, so he could speak when it was time to give me away. My big, bold, brash father, bless his heart had tears in his eyes.

I smiled at Ian as we knelt beside each other and received communion from Father. We stood up as he declared the benediction. Ian leaned into me, his lips soft against mine, while his strong arms gently wrapped around me.

I’d never been happier.

Then we were all outside, enjoying the bright fall sun. The pits had been opened so there were roast meats and harvest vegetables and late fruits, honey cakes and mead. Ian never left my side, touching me as he never felt free to do before. His hand on my waist felt warm and possessive. His hand would come up, and stroke my loose flowing hair, as though he’d never truly felt how soft it could be.

We ate, we danced, we spoke with friends. We knew our time was growing short. So did the village, and they pretended to not notice when we snuck off by ourselves. We knew the punishment if the Lord did not receive a virgin. But we touched, and murmured and caressed. His lips that were always soft and careful, were now full of passion, heat and desire. I wanted nothing more than to melt into him. To let him take me to our new home, and make me into a woman, HIS woman. I murmured against his lips, that I was his wife, his woman, my heart and soul. His strong arms crushed me tighter to him. My own arms squeezed him as well. Slowly, we drew apart, and returned to the festivities, knowing we would be called shortly anyway.

We returned, with our arms around each other, both of us just wanting to get the next twelve hours over with. We didn’t have to wait long before our Lord rode up on a grey charger.

“Where is the bride I am to see?” The Lord looked over the gathering. You could see he once sat proudly on this steed, but his posture had started to crumble and sag into his gut. His wig was beginning to look weedy, and the white hair only made his face look more sallow.

I attempted to step forward, but Ian’s grip tightened around my waist.

“Annsachd, please don’t make this harder for me. It is not my choice, but t’is my duty.” I whispered then touched his hand. He slowly released me, but followed me closely as I moved toward Lord Farrington.

“I am here, M’lord.”

Ian took my hand and turned me to him. His lips fell to mine softly, whispering softly against my lips, before taking me boldly, his tongue an invader in my mouth. Then his kisses became caresses until he moved away. I didn’t want him to, until I heard Lord Farrington clear his throat. I blushed mightily, realizing it probably wasn’t the first time, and I had not even noticed. Ian lifted me by my waist as though I t’were a bundle of twigs and placed me before Farrington.

“M’lord, I realize I cannot stop what happens this night. But harm her, and even the angels will not protect you. I give you my oath.” Farrington, whom, I would guess had heard many words such as this on similar wedding days, simply nodded curtly.

Lord Farrington’s arms were around me as he held the reins, the horse going at a brisk canter. It was obvious he wanted to reach the keep before dark. My body stayed tense, since there was no way to truly hold onto the horse the way I was on it, only relying on M’lord’s arms to keep me from toppling into the horse’s hooves.

It was dusk when he pulled to a stop at the gate. A number of people were waiting there. I suddenly felt shy. I’m just a country girl, not some high raised child. He handed me over to a kindly looking maid.

“Bathe her then bring her to my chamber.”
…End of the part1. To be continued..

8 Hours

Monday, November 3rd, 2008

by Dryad
(F-solo)

She moaned in frustration. She pulled the wet pink dildo out
of her glistening cunt. “Fuck! New batteries again!” she moaned,
flicking open the battery cover and dumping the rechargeables
out onto the bed. She reached for the stand pulled out the
freshly charged batteries and put them in. She looked at the
clock, figuring the battery time. 2 hours. Shit.

Sighing, she pressed the pink gel cock back into her yearning
pussy. The hum was louder now, more insistent, reverberating in
her pussy and against her clit. Yet still…

She pulled the laptop closer to her, scanning for stories that
would get her going. Going through her favorite authors…good
stories…but not enough sex. She started pulling up the stroke
that normally she wouldn’t touch–hot, nasty and fast. The
vanilla stuff wasn’t working, so it was time to find more
unusual fuel to jumpstart her motor.

Read stories on bondage. Warmer. Humiliation-warmer yet.
Aliens, dogs, horses, rape…each took her baby step closer, but
still so, so far away.

She glared at the clock, which was laughing at her. Four hours
and still no relief. She flicked on the TV and filled the room
with sounds of pornographic fucking-titled thusly as it sounds
different from your normal average fucking, because the
enjoyment sounds pathetically fake. Men with big-titted women,
women with women, women getting double fucked, and even triple
fucked.

Guess you can only listen to so many cries of “Baby ooooh,
yeah, fuck me good” before it doesn’t do anything for ya.

She groaned in frustration, reaching for her bedside drawer.
She pulled out the 10 inch, thickly veined plastic cock and
swirled it in her mouth. Once it was dripping with saliva, she
lowered it, pressing it below the still vibrating pink toy. The
pressure caused the pink dildo to vibrate more harshly against
her pubic bone as the head of the new toy popped into her sticky
pussy. Feeling quite full as she pressed the new toy deeper into
her cunt, she thought perhaps now she could finally cum.

She squirmed on the bed, her hips working against the double
assault in her cunt, and yet still she was stuck in third gear.
She screamed and cursed in frustration, moving her hips faster.
Her hands worked the two dildoes in a syncopated rhythm, moving
faster and faster. Finally, she reached for the nearby phone
and flicked off her toy’s noisy vibration.

“Hi Crissy, let me speak to Adam please?”

“Just a moment, Mrs.South.” the hold muzac came on as she
turned the vibrator back on, getting a pleasant jolt.

“Hey sweetheart, to what do I owe this surprise?”

“Do you have any meetings this afternoon?” she said
breathlessly into the phone.

“No,” he paused. “What’s that noise in the background? Are you
shaving the dog?”

“Mmmm” she answered noncommittally. “Can you come home early?”

“I guess so. You need help with something?”

“Yeah. I need something that only male muscle will fix.”

“I’ll be home as soon as I can get away then. Love you.”

“Love you too,” she said as she hung up the phone.

She flicked the movie back on, and reset the vibrator to low,
knowing that relief would be there soon. She squirmed a bit on
the bed, relishing now the constant ache in her pussy. The movie
ended, and she rewound it back to the beginning, then drew the
computer near her, reading up on rough sex and humiliation. The
batteries, having gone for nearly 3 hours straight now, were
starting to give back out, so she took the next set out of the
recharger and switched them. Since she had to stop, she decided
now might be a good time to go to the bathroom, since Adam might
be home soon. When she returned, she squeezed the dildoes back
in her tight twat. She moaned and squeezed her tit, making the
nipple rise up. She pinched it between her fingers, feeling the
small shock down to her core.

It was some time before she heard the front door open. Floating
in a sexual haze, she called out, “I’m in the bedroom!”

She could hear him coming down the hall… “Honey, I brought Mike
home to help me. I figured you needed to move something heavy.”

He stopped dead in his tracks when he reached the bedroom door,
Mike gaping over his shoulder.

“Hi honey. You left something turned on at home.”

Copyright Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com) 2003

BOUNDFN2COM Comments on Bound for Fun I II part5

Sunday, November 2nd, 2008

made it into a quite nice place to live, with an old converted cistern as
a “dungeon” play-room. The ambience is unbelievable. Joe’s clients are
willing to pay his now much higher prices, for the thrill. Joe can charge
more now, because he doesn’t have to do it, to make a living. His mail-order,
and personal sales of his line of “Dungeon-Ware” is quite good, and growing.

IN>Do they win the lottery and keep having kids?

The only “lottery” Joe is interested in, is the “baby-sweepstakes” that
Lynn has once a year, when they reenact her “lesson” in rape. Other than
that, Joe doesn’t gamble, and neither do the other two.

IN>(Actually, I would not worry about the lottery if I were Joe. He has
IN>already won big.)

Amen.
_____
/ ‘ /
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(_/ / (_(_/|_/ / <_ / <_

BTW, I'm going to try to save all of these comments, and put them in the
package when I send it to you. I'll remove all references to your name,
and to you, when I do. You can then edit it again, and put it out to the
net, as a comment on the story-line. I'm not sure if it should go to
a.s.s, or a.s.s.d. Probably to a.s.s, as it does kind of complete the story.

IN>Frank,

IN>Well, the wait may not have been worth it, I’ll leave that up to
IN>you to decide, but here are my editorial comments on your wonderful
IN>”Bound for Fun” stories.

(Sound of a man releasing breath he’s held for days.) ;-}

IN>First , “BfF I”

IN>> MY GOD! For the first time, I realized just how far I had gone.
IN>> Not only had I came in the little girl, possibly (Probably)
IN>come in the little girl…
IN>…

No, came is right. Past tense of “cum” or come. As in “I came, I saw,
I knocked the girl up.” to misquote.

IN>> using the diaphragm to protect her daughter from pregnancy this
IN>> time. Oh well! At least ONCE, I had done it. Actually squirted
IN>> my seed in the little girl’s unprotected belly, that it. I
IN>that is
IN>…

I already found and corrected that one.

IN>> and Mr. Jones attend to things, OK?”
IN>> “Okay Momma. If you say so.” Dutifully, lay back on the
IN>Dutifully, she…
IN>> bed, and let me open her up, to her mother’s administrations.
IN>Did you mean ministrations?
IN>…

OOOPS! You’re right.

IN>> stimulation, of having her mother poking around in her, and me
IN>> from the thought of this incredible sexy, kinky woman actually
IN>> squirting my sperm in her own daughter womb, while making the kid
IN>daughter’s womb…

OOPS again.

IN>And then, “BfF II”

IN>> huh? Frank looked almost like a nerd, but even though some would
IN>> consider him “over the hill” he still had the best imagination of
IN>> the lot of us, when it came to ingenious torture. Especially the
IN>> kind that hurt, but didn’t damage. Fred was a guy you’d expect
IN>Is this a Hitchcock-like cameo, Mr. McCoy?
IN>…

Weeeelll. . . somewhat. Not exactly, but somewhat. The description is
close, but not completely true. Especially, I DO NOT go for torture.
even bondage, is not really my bag.

IN>> something. It wasn’t real, until that final blow. Now seeing
IN>> the knife sticking in her belly, while she reeled from the deadly
IN>> blow, it finally got home to her. This wasn’t a game, and it was
IN>How do you reel from a blow when you are tied down?
IN>…

You’re right. It was her mind that reeled, not her body.

IN>> couldn’t. Any force over about two ounces, caused the blade to
IN>> vanish into the sheath. It was an amazingly effective illusion,
IN>> especially when combined with fake blood canisters, but not worth
IN>Doesn’t the blade vanish into the handle?

Right again!. My mind slipped.

IN>I hope these comments are of some value to you,
IN>and of course, they are all from a friendly source, and not meant to be
IN>barbed, even if they seem that way when viewed on a CRT.

BARBED???!!! Heck, those are FRIENDLY comments. I even welcome barbed ones,
if they show mistakes in what I was trying to get across.

IN>I hope to hear from you soon!

I’ll try to edit in these changes, and the others we discussed sometime this
week, and send you the final disk. I’ll also send along another story that’s
been sitting for almost a year, waiting to be completed, but neither Tammy or
I seem to want to finish it, so we wrapped it up, and left it where it ended.
It ends fairly nicely, but it was originally planned to be twice as long. If
we ever do finish it, it’ll have to be “Chapter 2″.

IN>I have seen all of the material I posted (finally)

I saw your second post, just the other day.

IN>and have sent out some stuff to folks who missed part 1 of 4, etc.

Thanks.

IN>I will be posting more from your first disk soon.

Could you send me another copy of the list of files I sent you?
I forgot which, and I don’t want to duplicate.
_____
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(_/ / (_(_/|_/ / <_/ <_

BOUNDFN2COM Comments on Bound for Fun I II part4

Saturday, November 1st, 2008

out any discrepancies there, I assume you bought that one, and the story
can stand. (Typos and other corrections gladly accepted.)

BTW, the story is NOT about LYNN’s suffering, but JOE’s. HIS hurt, is the
one that’s supposed to break your heart.
Think about it, having to do that to someone you love, in the HOPE that
it MIGHT save her for someone else. To be willing to make someone you
love, and had hoped to have love you, hate you, so that they’ll survive.
“Greater love hath no man. . .” I think that being willing to give up
the love of someone for their well-being, is at least as great, and THAT’s
the point I was trying to make.

I’ll admit, I WAS trying for shock-value, when Joe “did-in” her mother.
I wanted to raise at least a LITTLE doubt in the reader’s mind, whether
or not they had figured Joe out right.
_____
/ ‘ /
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++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

IN>Frank,

IN>Re whether Lynn was hoodwinked, yes, I think
IN>Joe and her mother did a good job of convincing the trusting
IN>starry-eyed girl that she was actually given up to a degenerate,
IN>and that he would enjoy her, and then kill her.
IN>Joe’s suffering is evident. Maybe you could put the “greater
IN>love hath no man…” quote in the story. It is both dramatic
IN>and succinct of the feelings Joe must have gone through before
IN>Lynn came over and all was patched up.

I would like to. I just can’t think of a neat way (or place) to put it in.
I’ll re-read it, maybe I can. Hmmmm. maybe afterwards, in a comment by
Lynn, or June. I’ll have to think about it. It’s a nice Idea, but I want
the story to flow smoothly. I’ll try. No guarantees though.

IN>For my own version of “what is right” you might
IN>also add in the epilogue that Lynn finished HS on the honor roll,
IN>despite her bulging belly.

Good point. I’ll fit that in somewhere at the end. “After finishing
High-school, Lynn has worked her way through college, and is now working
on her doctorate by taking evening classes, while June and I watch the
kids, sometimes alternating, and sometimes together. Now that the oldest
is 12, and can watch the younger ones, we find interesting things to do
together while still maintaining a presence in the house.”

Something like that. I’ll have to work on it. Any suggestions about this,
or the other will be appreciated. I think, that if I put in that Lynn’s
working on her doctorate, then her finishing high-school (honor-roll or not)
would be superfluous. What do you think?

IN>Everybody seems to live and make love happily ever after.
IN>Does Joe continue as a professional top?

Yes, but in later years it becomes more of a side-line. His main line
becomes designing and supplying bondage clothing and accessories, with
Lynn as his main model. Do you think this needs to be in the story?

IN>do Lynn and June become his beautiful and kinky assistants?

Lynn does, as explained above. June is closer to being a “top”, than
a “bottom”. Sometime she helps him with a fantasy with Lynn. June remains
as kinky as ever, but with her own twist on things. How and why and where
she gets those kids of hers, are each stories in their own right. Joe
THINKS almost all the kids are his, but he’s not sure about at least 2 of
them. June likes to keep him guessing. (BTW, outside of the story,
for your information only, they ALL are. June loves him just as much
as Lynn does, and wouldn’t dream of cheating him. Make him THINK they might
not be his, yes. Actually HAVE anyone else’s kids, no. Joe suspects this.)

IN>Does the huge family move out of the soundproof apartment?

That’s a bachelor apartment. What do you think? One-bedroom, bath,
kitchen and tiny living-room, plus the one extra “dungeon” room. Of course,
the owners have bigger, fancier apartments, at sky-high rentals. No, they
moved to a small fixer-upper ex-farm-house, at the outskirts of the city.
By the time the story ends, with the three of them working on it, they’ve
…End of the part4. To be continued..