Lactating ladies need dick to satisfy their thirst for man milk. Feed these pregnant babes a creamy cumsicle and shove a cock between their milky tits.

get more Fucked preggy gets jizz on tits videous

view pregnant fever movies 6

New exclusive videos with sexy lesbian preggos doing all sorts of nasty erotic stuff. Spreading, masturbation, hot girl-on-girl play – the bigger their bellies grow the bigger sluts they become shamelessly spreading their swollen muffs and playing with their sexy girlfriends in front of the cam.

pretty preggos gallery 20

Lactalia gallery 41

Naughty Pictures of a preggo



Pictures of a preggo hottie in the bath
100% excluseve action is a seconds away!

If you access to the site after watching this gallery you will never regret about it!

Lactalia gallery 42

Pregnant Hardcore Movies Free Gallery
Pregnant Hardcore Movies Free Gallery 2
Pregnant chick needs more orgasms than her husband can give

Lactalia gallery 43

Tight Preggo Lactalia plays with



Preggo Lactalia plays with her toys
Dont hesistate to join ist very cheap and you get more content than you can download!

Its for sure one of the stimulating galleries.

Lactalia gallery 44

Pregnant woman in red hold-up stockings licking her plump nipples and spreading her wet pussy
check out lactating chick
milf videos

This slut will seize this opportunity and obtain these two cocks, whatever the cost.
check out pregnant milf
hot videos

Sex starved preggo chicks will ride your cock until you drop your seed deep inside their wet pussies.

get more Pretty preggy fingering her pussy videous

view pregnant fever movies 1

“I’ve never really whipped you,” I said. “Tonight is our first time with a
belt and I had a hard time, whipping your breasts. I don’t know,” I said,
looking down at my bare feet, buried in the green pile of the carpet.

Cathie raised up on her elbows, her red, welted breasts swinging from
side to side. “Look at me,” she demanded. I looked into her eyes.

“I make your fantasies come true, don’t I?” she asked.

“Yes,” I admitted. Cathie had never refused to do anything I wanted her
to do.

“Tonight,” she said. “Just tonight, I want my ass whipped like I’ve
fantasized about it being whipped all my life. My mother and father
always spanked me like you do it, just enough to sting. Since I was
eleven or twelve years old, I’ve dreamed about a big, cruel man tying
me down and beating my ass black and blue. It’s made me come a thousand
times since then. Tonight, Goss, I’m so horny, I want it to come true!
Tonight the pain is making me hornier, the worse it gets! Really! I almost
came when you were whipping my tits but I waited because I want to come
while my ass is being whipped, like in my fantasy.”

“I’ll try,” I said.

Turning her head away so her left cheek was against the pillow she said,
“You’re a cocksucker, Goss. You’re a lousy shit of a lover and I hate
your guts. You’ve never satisfied me, ever.”

Grasping the belt buckle in my palm, I wrapped a loop of the thin,
leather belt around my hand. When I stopped, there was about 24 inches of
belt hanging loose. I raised my right arm and swung down past Cathie’s
bare bottom. The thin strip of leather whistled through the air and
then cracked against the flesh of her ass. Cathie shrieked and a thin
welt bubbled up across the widest part of both of her buttocks. In fact,
I was pretending anger but the result was the same.

Cathie was crying freely but she said, “Yessss. That’s it, Goss.
Just like that. Whip my ass just like that.”

I raised my right arm and brought the belt down on a diagonal. crossing
the original stripe with a new welt. Cathie shrieked again but raised
her ass up higher into the air. Sidearm, I lifted and snapped the belt
directly across the underside of her buttocks.

“Yes! Yes!” she cried. tears spilling onto the pillow. “Again! Again!”

Levering my body from side to side, I cracked the belt down onto her fat
ass five or six more times. I was sweating like a pig. Her big bottom
had welts all over both cheeks.

I paused and she cried, “More. More, Goss.”

Deliberately, with all the strength in my right arm, I continued
to whip her ass. Although she thrashed violently from side to side,
Cathie never moved her hands out from under her body. In fact, as the
welts crisscrossed her big ass, she kept pushing it up, anticipating
each stroke.

The muscles of my arm were burning with fatigue after ten minutes and
I could see that Cathie’s lower back, bulging bottom and upper thighs
were displaying a violent red color. Her ass was a fiery red circle.

“Stop,” she croaked and I dropped the belt on the carpet.

“Piss on my ass,” she moaned.

I directed a long stream of urine down her backbone, over the red-striped
mounds of her buttocks, between her thighs, onto her cunt.

“Now fuck my bum,” Cathie said. “No lubrication. Just stick your cock
up my ass and fuck me.”

I moved onto her back, keeping my weight on my elbows and knees so I
wasn’t pressing onto her abused ass. I immediately had an erection and
I tried to burrow between her thighs, into her pussy.

“No, Goss” she said clearly. “Force your cock up my asshole and fuck me
until you come. Don’t worry about me, I’m already coming non-stop.”

As directed, I burrowed between her red ass cheeks until I felt the
circumcised head of my cock move though her anus.

“Oh, yeah,” said Cathie. “Now stick it all the way up my bum. Push it in.”
Her hind end was wiggling and pushing back at me. My cock, in spite of
a certain amount of friction, slid all the way up her ass.

“Now bumfuck me, Goss,” she said. “Just fuck me up my ass as fast and
as hard as you can do it.”

After awhile, the burning sensation left my poor cock and it was sliding
in and out of her ass at a leisurely pace.

“No, harder and faster,” Cathie demanded.

As my hips pistoned back and forth and my cock burned rapidly in and
out of her asshole, I began to feel an orgasm approaching.

“Come in my bum, Goss!” Cathie yelled suddenly. “Come! Up my fat bum!
Fill my big bum with your come, Goss. Give me a come enema in my bum.
I want to feel you coming in my bum!”

When I let go, it felt like a river flowing up her ass. I swear, I didn’t
stop pumping sperm into her asshole for thirty seconds. Then there was
another thirty seconds as my spasms continued.

“Oh, Goss, I’m so full of you,” said Cathie. “You can pee in me too,
if you have to. You can piss up my ass.”

I was so relaxed, it was several seconds before I realized I was urinating
in Cathie’s ass. I didn’t do anything consciously. I just lay on her
back with my cock up her ass, pissing into her. The urine just kept
coming and coming, flowing into her rectum.

“It’s perfect,” Cathie breathed. “Just like my fantasy. Pee in my bum,
lover. Keep peeing in my bum.”

After awhile, it just stopped. I was so relaxed, my flaccid cock popped
out of Cathie’s ass and I fell off her back, onto the couch cushions.
She twisted around and scrunched down until she could get my cock in
her mouth. She sucked on my limp cock for several minutes, her tongue
licking all over it.

I felt her lips slide the length of my cock and let it fall out of
her mouth.

“One more thing,” she said. “You have to pee in my mouth one last time,
Goss. Come on, let it go. I have to drain you.”

I felt her lips circle just below the head of my cock. The tip was barely
in her mouth. I pissed in her mouth and she swallowed. Another spurt of
urine squirted out of my cock and into her mouth and Cathie swallowed
it again.

I was amazed to feel my whole body continue to relax until I felt like
an insensate blob of clay. All I could feel was a long stream of urine,
apparently endless, pumping out of my cock and down Cathie’s throat.
She swallowed it all, then sucked the last gush of urine out of my cock.
Finally, she licked the last drops off the tip.

When she moved up and snuggled into my arms she said, “I have another
fantasy and it’s really gross. Do you want to hear it?”

“No,” I said, just before I fell asleep.

I groaned. “I’m not sure I can take another fantasy of yours,” I said.
“It’s been two days and I’m still not fully recovered from the last
two fantasies.”

We were in the small kitchen of her house. Cathie was washing and I
was drying. She wore tight, almost new blue jeans that accentuated
the wideness of her hips and the protruding fullness of her buttocks.
They swelled and swelled in a pair of round curves. She’d managed to
splash soapy water on the front of her Harvard maroon shirt.

I’m not particularly affected by breasts. It just happened, as it
usually does for the female figure, her breasts were big and buoyant,
to balance her big ass, I guess. As unaffected as I am, I noticed that
her nipples were hard and erect through the soft material of her shirt.
I reached over and grabbed her right nipple between the forefinger and
thumb of my right hand, just feeling the rubbery protrusion.

Cathie shook her head to get her bangs out of her eyes. She had fine
black hair, cut in a pageboy that fell to her shoulders. Her hair framed
a perfectly smooth, white complexion. Her face was heart shaped, with
thick, luscious lips topped by a small straight nose and overly large,
deep brown eyes. Although I found her figure to be slightly overblown,
she had the most beautiful, delicate, porcelain face I’d ever seen.

“Ow,” she said, obviously referring to my fingers pinching her nipple.
“I’m going to have my period soon. My tits are ultra sensitive.”

I immediately let go.

“No,” she said. “Pinch the other one for awhile, Goss.”

Obediently, my right hand reached across her body and my fingers squeezed
her left nipple through the maroon shirt material.

“Do you want to hear my fantasy?” she asked again.

“Give me a break, Cath,” I said. “I just got home from work and ate
dinner.”

“Go get a beer from the fridge,” she told me. “A beer will loosen you up.”

I let go of her nipple with my right hand and flipped the dish towel
onto the counter. I got a beer out of the fridge and sipped at it.

Cathie continued to wipe dishes and put them in the rack. “Chug it,”
she said.

“It’s Monday night. Do I want to do that?” I asked.

“Yeah, chug it,” she said.

I chugged down the beer, then got another bottle from the fridge.

“Chug that one too,” she said, gazing out the window over the sink.

“How loose do you want me?” I asked, draining the bottle.

“Keep going,” Cathie told me.

I retrieved another bottle and started drinking it. I noticed the mauve
colors of the setting sun, shining through the window, were starting to
look a bit fuzzy around the edges.

“Maybe I’ll have a shower tonight,” Cathie said, draining the sink.

“Um, golden?” I asked, having connected the beer to the fantasy. I’m not
at all stupid.

“Maybe,” she answered.

We’d both read about golden showers but we’d never done anything like
that. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to do it.

“I don’t know, Cath,” I said, sipping at the beer. “That’s the outer
…End of the part1. To be continued..

(I knew I was going to get in trouble, Lori. My pussy is
practically dripping with excitement. I’ve taken my shirt off to
sit on so I don’t stain the chair. The vibrations are up on my
Butterfly, and I’m back to typing one-handed. My breasts and
nipples wanted too much attention. I’m afraid I may have to take
that orgasm break before long. This letter might take forever!)

Our little brother was two years younger than I. (I guess he
still is, isn’t he?) His cock had been a fixation for me ever
since I was twelve. I didn’t know why. I just knew I was
constantly curious about it. When we were wrestling, I could
sometimes feel it–and sometimes feel it hard. I was forever
trying to catch him in the act of dressing or undressing so I
could see it. And I was always trying to spy on him when he was
in the bathroom. But he was always so private that I couldn’t see
it–which, of course, made me want to see it all the more!
As I began to develop, I began teasing him to see if I could
make it hard. I’d sit so he could see my panties or stand in
front of the light so he could almost see through my nightie.
Sometimes I’d leave my door open when I changed clothes, then act
surprised and mad when he saw me partially naked. Or I’d leave
the bathroom door cracked when I took a shower in case he wanted
to peek.
It was exciting to watch his reactions. Part of the thrill was
testing out my powers as a young woman. It seems he had a hard-on
all the time, and I knew I frequently caused it. Sometimes I’d
stand outside his bedroom door and listen to him jerk-off. Of
course, I didn’t know what he was doing, but it was something he
wasn’t suppose to do. And that made it more exciting.
(That’s it. I can’t take this any longer. Time for a break!)
(Well, it’s another day. One orgasm wasn’t enough yesterday.
And after the second, I was too wiped out to continue. Today I
thought I’d try one of my soft dildos while I type. There’s no
vibration, but I like the fullness. This is fun, getting naughty
with you, Lori.)
Well, back to the story. After about six months of playing
around with each other, Kathy and I decided to get Scott. By then
she’d touched her boyfriend’s cock when they’d made out, and
she’d told me all about it. I’d told her about Scott, too, so
we’d both been teasing him. And she told me what he was doing in
his room. One night Mom and Dad were gone, so we put our plan
into action. We really teased him that night while we watched TV.
We wrestled with him in our nighties so he could “accidentally”
touch us, and we really sat “sloppily.” Then, when he went to
bed, we waited outside his door until we heard the bedsprings
squeaking.
At that, we rushed in and turned on the light. Sure enough, he
was laying on his back, his hand wrapped around his little
pecker. You should have seen his face, Lori! At first he was
really mad at us, but Kathy got him calmed down and told him we’d
take all our clothes off for him if he’d show us what he was
doing. I was so hot from just seeing his cock that all I could do
was stand there and shake. God, it was so exciting! After we
watched him pump himself for awhile, Kathy said she’d let him
touch her breasts if she could touch his prick. I could take that
for only so long before I had to get into the act. Kathy showed
me how to jerk him off, and I made him shoot all over the place.
Now that I really loved! And at that age, of course, they never
get soft, so we kept playing until we heard Mom and Dad drive in.
As long as we lived at home, the three of us had each other
for love, comfort and fun. Eventually we taught Scott how to play
with us and eat us, and we learned to suck him off. That’s where
we drew the line, but we had hours and hours of loving fun. I
like to think Kathy and I taught Scott how to be a superior
lover, but I suppose I’ll never know. Once each of us left home,
the subject never came up again.

The only feelings I’ve ever had about all of that are Good and
Wonderful. I’ve read where incest is suppose to make people feel
dirty and become anti-social. It’s hard for me to relate to that
because I did well in school, was popular and never felt dirty at
all. No one will ever convince me that what we did was wrong– it
was too good to be bad. It brought us closer together, and
there’s always been lots of love. Although we agreed to stop at
oral sex, I’ll admit I wanted Scott in me very badly. I wanted
him to take my virginity; I still think it would have been better
and more loving if he had. But I’ll admit I don’t think about the
social issues anymore. I’ve spent half my life worrying about my
sexuality and the other half saying, “Who cares?”
What I do in my bedroom is my business. I know I don’t fit any
of the “This Is A Woman” molds. By any standard I’ve ever seen,
I’m definitely over-sexed. I have strong exhibitionist
tendencies, which fits the mold. But I’m also very visually
oriented, and have a strong voyeuristic streak, as well. That
doesn’t fit the mold. Sexual guilt is almost foreign to me, and
I’m more drawn to adventure than security in sexual matters.
So I don’t know where I fit in, but I don’t worry about it too
much. I know that other than the emptiness and loneliness of life
without a woman since I’ve been married, I’ve had a much richer,
fuller and happier sex life than most women ever will.

That first incident with Scott began my life-long obsession
with cocks. I’m an inveterate crotch watcher, wondering what’s
behind the zipper, what it looks like, how it feels and things
like that. Each size and shape has it’s own special attraction,
but I love them all. I love the way they look, the way they feel
in me, on me and in my hand and mouth. I love their taste and
their texture. And I love their warm cum in my mouth or on my
face and breasts. One of my favorite fantasies is to be naked on
my knees, surrounded by 5 or 6 naked sixteen or seventeen year-
old boys. I could go around the circle, giving each a nice, long
suck; then lie back and watch them jerk off until they splash hot
cream all over my body. I know my chance of ever having that
happen is gone, but oh, do I love the fantasy!
As bitter as I sometimes get with my husband’s closed-
mindedness about bisexuality, I’m grateful for his understanding
of my love of cocks. Every once in awhile he arranges a 3-some
with another man. Have you ever done that, Lori? Those are such
wonderful times for me. The “discovery” of a new cock. Two cocks
to play with. And the devoted attentions of two men. I always
feel so female and so special. And I love my husband all the more
for it.
Well, another book and still not enough questions asked of
you. I can’t believe how good it feels to be able to talk like
this with someone. Maybe now that I’ve blurted all of this out we
can move on to a better correspondence.
Write soon, Lori.

Horny for you,
Carla

Placement position : XXX Reviews >> Amateurs

Please visit aslo :

Video Seekers / Bimbo Wives / Porn Wannabe / Never Shot / Fresh Auditions / Naughty Amateur / Amateur Pie /

Title : Never Shot Site Reviews

Very promising description:
over 25.000 pix of hot new sluts never shots on film before

PLEASE JOIN “Never Shot” RIGHT NOW!

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

Jill held up one of my favorite albums and I nodded. Pete held up
another and we all agreed that we liked Chris’s taste in music. Chris
returned, and she was wearing sweat pants and an exercise top that left
her flat stomach bare. Chris put on some music and said she’d fix some
snacks. As she left the room, she turned down the dimmer on the lights.
Jill and Pete were slow dancing in front of the fireplace, and I turned
to Jeff. We kissed again, and both of us felt the heat burning in the
other. We kissed and kissed for a long time, his hands and tongue
making me so hot that I was sure my pants were visibly wet. Chis made a
loud noise in the kitchen breaking up some ice, and we parted our kiss,
looking at Jill and Pete. They were locked in a deep kiss like we had
been, with Pete’s hands on Jill’s ass, pulling her against him. Jill
was also trying to wrap herself around Pete, her hands on the back of
his head. Chris announced the snacks were ready, and Pete disentangled
from Jill to help her bring out the food and some drinks. She sat down,
and started telling some jokes that she’d heard, most of them a bit
raunchy. Jeff mentioned that Chris had a hidden talent, and she blushed
and gave him a “not again” look. Jeff badgered Chris into showing us.
She took the stem from the cherry in my coke, and popped it in her
mouth. A few seconds later, it came out with the stem nicely knotted in
the middle. Jill and I both tried it (Chris said it was pretty simple),
and we couldn’t do it.

Pete made a rude suggestion, something about trying it with a larger
object, and we all laughed. “Speaking of larger objects Pete…” Chris
said, making her stare obvious. Pete wasn’t displaying much of a bulge,
but Chris’s eyes said there was some very decent “equipment” there.
“Are you going to show it off?” Pete blushed a bit, and I’m sure Jill
felt her pussy moisten as I did. We all urged him to show us (it must
have been the liquor from earlier), and he finally said okay. Pete
stood up, and Chris dimmed the lights dramatically. Pete unzipped about
half way, and Jill suddenly leaned forward, taking over the job. Jill
did a good job of erotically lowering his zipper, and rubbing her hand
over his crotch. I could see his bulge forming against his shorts.
Jill was going to reach in through his zipper, but Pete put her hands on
his belt. Jill pulled it loose, moving her face close to his manhood.
Jill’s hands slid his pants down to the floor, and we could see a huge
bulge in his jockey shorts. Slowly Jill pulled them down, and when his
dick sprang free, I could hear Jill’s gasp over mine.

Pete had a huge prick, and the head was perfectly circumcised. Jill
stared at it, watching it grow even more. I could see her tremble as
she put her hand around it and lifted it, then ran her tongue down the
underside of it. Pete sighed loudly. “Oh God! I’m in heaven!” Jill
said. She kept kissing and licking it, and Pete wasn’t going to stop
her. “Eleven and three-quarters inches.” Chris said. “I measured it
the first time I saw it.” She added proudly. I looked down at Jeff’s
crotch and saw his bulge. No one had to tell me, so I unfastened his
pants and took him out of his shorts. No monster like Pete had, but one
of the most beautiful cocks I’d ever seen! Jeff was about seven inches
long, and just the right diameter. I leaned over and licked the drop of
his semen that dribbled from the tip. Then I just had to have him in my
mouth. I liked his warm, rubbery head, and then started sucking him
into my eager mouth. Jeff moaned softly and I felt his hips rise. His
dick was warm and firm and just the right size. After several long
strokes on him, I then remembered that Chris was watching. I looked up
at her and wow!! Chris was sitting back, one hand down her sweat pants,
frigging herself while she watched us. Her other hand had pushed her
top up, showing us her large nippled breasts and she pinched a nipple in
her fingers. I looked over at Jill, and Pete was undressing her, she
was down to her bra and panties. “What the hell” I thought, and I
pulled Jeff’s pants off, and then his shirt. He undressed me carefully,
kissing my breasts as he pulled off my blouse. The low lights, the
alcohol, and the gentle way everyone moved had an effect, and we were
all soon naked in the living room.

All but Chris. She just sat and watched us, and her being dressed
excited me even more. Jeff slid down to the floor and began licking my
pussy. He knew his way around a pussy, his tongue finding my sensitive
places and making me crazy with the way he teased me higher and higher.
Jill went straight for Pete’s dick, and I watched. Pete sat on the love
seat (appropriate no?), with Jill sitting down facing him. I watched,
and Jill slowly tried to stuff his meat in her tight pussy, taking him
an inch at a time. Her soft, white round ass spread over Pete’s lap,
…End of the part3. To be continued..

My name is Carol, and I’m twenty five, and I work in a shop in the
center of town. I think I’m very nice looking, for I have a first class
figure, and I like sex more than anything else in the world.

I am bi-sexual, and found that out some time ago, and making it with
another woman is very nice. But, to be honest, for a real thrill, for
the best possible orgasms, I go to a man, for I only feel really happy
and satisfied when I have a nice red hot cock inside of me.

Well, although I had made it with other women, I always had this
secret desire to have a threesome, a man, and me, and another woman, but
try as I might, I had been unable to get it together ….. until a few
days ago that is.

I was out shopping when I ran into Jane, and I hadn’t seen her for
ages. She is the same age as me and we used to fuck with each other
quite a lot, and then we sort of drifted apart.

We were both pleased to see each other, so we went into this little
coffee bar for a drink and a chat.

“Where do you live now?” I asked, for she had moved out of town six
months earlier.

“I’ve moved back,” she said. “I live just around the corner from
you. I’ve only been back a few days, and I was meaning to look you up.”

I stared at her across the table, and then picked up my cup. She
looked lovely with her long blonde hair and her sexy eyes and her lovely
smile. Just looking at her reminded me of the times we had fucked, and
thinking about that made the juices cream up inside me.

“Perhaps we could get together again sometime?” I suggested.

“That would be nice,” she said, she nodded and then she smiled. “I
remember how lovely your pussy used to taste,” she went on. “I loved
going down on you and licking your cunt.”

“I loved the taste of your sweet pussy also,” I said, and looked at
her and added. “how about getting together again?”

“I live with this man called Bill,” she said.

“Oh.”

“But come around and see me, Carol,” she said. “Come round and we’ll
have a threesome. I’m sure you’ll like Bill, he’s a great lover, with a
huge cock, and I’m sure he’d really love to get his cock inside you.”

“You always did say what you were thinking, Jane,” I said.

“No point in beating around the bush,” she replied. “look, here’s my
new address, come around this evening; meet Bill, and if you like him
then we’ll all get it together.”

“If you like him, them I’m sure I’ll like him,” I said.

“He has the tastiest cock that I’ve ever sucked,” she said, and she
stirred some sugar into her coffee.

“I like good tasty cock,” I replied.

“Yes, I know you do,” she said. “Not only has he got this huge cock,
but he really does know how to use it.”

“That’s nice,” I whispered, and the thought of a threesome that very
evening was making me very wet indeed, so wet that I thought my panties
would be a real mess when I got home.

“Look, come around about eight this evening,” she said, and she
finished her coffee and stood up. “I’m sure you’ll like him, and anyway,
I’m really looking forward to sucking out that pussy of yours again.”

“And I’m looking forward to tasting your cunt cream once more,” I
…End of the part1. To be continued..

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.
_____
/ ‘ /
,-/-, __ __. ____ /_
(_/ / (_(_/|_/ / <_/ <_

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

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..

I’ll be waiting with “baited breath”, like the cat who ate cheese, and sat by
the mousehole.
_____
/ ‘ /
,-/-, __ __. ____ /_
(_/ / (_(_/|_/ / <_/ <_

P.S. Do you mind if I save this letter, except for your name, and use it
and my response to answer any future flames/criticism? It helps not
to have to do it twice.
P.P.S. I got the scanner, and recovered part-2. Story follows this post.
PLEASE don't get squicked, until you've finished the whole story.
THEN feel free to let me have it with both barrels. ;-}

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

IN> Frank,

IN>1. Using my last letter to respond to other critics, some
IN>probably not as friendly. I re-read the letter, and it is fine, except
IN>for my personal identity, which you should please safeguard totally, and
IN>the first paragraph. The first paragraph is not only irrelevant to the
IN>story, but also is pretty identifiable as written by me. To those who
IN>know me, that may be true of the whole thing, but they would not be able
IN>to prove anything, so go ahead.

I’ll remove the first paragraph, and anything else that points to you.

IN>2. Have not yet had time to go over “BfF I” in the detail I
IN>promised, to send you the minor typos, etc. Hope to do so today,
IN>if not, tomorrow.

I’ll wait on both stories for your criticism.

IN>3. “Bound for Fun II” – the blistering literary criticism! ;=}

IN>Anyway, I liked “BfF II” It certainly
IN>did not squick me. It dealt well with the trust issues, and the whole
IN>fascination with violence and torture as “fun” when in the real world
IN> 1) they actually go on, and
IN> 2) they are __NO fun.

Amen.

IN>Now, the literary hard part for me, is that I must tell you that you
IN>did not pull the wool over the reader’s eyes. This reader, at least.
IN>Jones is clearly too careful of Lynn’s feelings, her peripheral
IN>circulation, etc. etc. for him to actually be planning to kill her
IN>This plot reminds me of the movie “The Sting” I thought that
IN>was a fantastic movie, because it was all about a sting operation, and
IN>audience member thinks he is in on it, but in the end, gets totally
IN>taken in himself, and actually gasps when it appears that one of the good
IN>guys kills the other. Again, at least this viewer.

IN>I do not read a lot of the NC stories, except the Parker works,
IN>and so I am not too good at telling you what a NC perpetrator must “think
IN>like” in a story, but one thing is that he must be totally
IN>uncaring about the victim, except regarding leaving clues.
IN>Clues don’t really have to do with
IN>the victim, just protecting himself, but at least that as close as he gets
IN>to giving a damn about the victim. Jones is way too careful.
IN>He is also clearly too nice a guy. I really don’t know
IN>how to remedy this from the dramatic
IN>viewpoint in the story. That he is careful is okay,
IN> but that he is careful of the girl’s
IN>feelings and comfort is not. I don’t know how to get across his care,
IN>and maybe carefully and intentionally mislead the innocent reader, with
IN>statements
IN>that when read quickly look like the self-centered detail worries of a
IN>schmuck trying to cover the clues, but on rereading after the surprise
IN>ending actually may be interpreted to see that he was looking out for
IN>her all along. A difficult task,
IN>but the only way I can see to get the desired effect and leave it in 1st
IN>person.

The idea was never to pull the wool over the reader’s eyes. The Idea was
to see if you could convince the reader that “Joe” was good enough and
convincing enough to pull the wool over Lynn’s eyes. Since you don’t point
…End of the part3. To be continued..

“You know, I bet you could paddle out here naked, and no one
would ever know the difference.” His comment jerked her back
from the quiet solitude with a jolt.

“Probably,” she replied distractedly. After a few moments,
though, what he’d said jolted her to reality. Looking around and
seeing no one, she felt devilish.

“You know, you’re right. And it’s getting hot out here…” She
pulled her dress up over her head and threw it into the gunwale
behind her.

He heard the rustle, and turned back to see what she had done.
He chuckled, shaking his head before turning back forward to
continue paddling. The current wasn’t fast here, so she laid
her paddle down, leaning back into the back corner of the canoe,
enjoying the warm spring sunshine on her naked skin. She felt
the canoe bump as he pulled it into an eddy. She closed her
eyes in to the sun, but still felt his eyes on her between
casts. She opened her knees slightly, letting the warm sun tease
her lower lips. She heard his intake of breath and inwardly
smiled. Her fingers absently touched her sex, opening herself
up to the fragrant warmth surrounding her.

She may have dozed, she wasn’t certain. But the next thing she
heard was his putting the fishing pole back into the canoe, and
his pulling up the anchor. “Afternoon. Fish don’t want to bite.
Might as well head back.” She started to sit up, to help paddle
back. “Don’t bother,” he said, “the current will push us back,
and I’ll steer.” She smiled contentedly, seeing the look on his
face.

The neglected wife inside her jumped up and shouted, “I’m gonna
get me some! I’m gonna get me some!” Maybe not now, but
definitely after they put the kids to bed tonight. So she
shifted in the sun, moaning softly under her breath as her
fingers gently stroked her now wet inner lips. She gazed at him
through half lidded eyes, watching his reactions. She brought
one hand up to her breast, teasing the nipples until they stood
out, taut and pert, just waiting for attention.

He shifted in the seat, his hand readjusting himself. He
started to lean forward, but realized what she already knew…
only one of them could be in the front of the canoe. If he were
to join her, they’d tip. She smiled at his discomfiture. It
was then he realized she’d been watching him.

“Two can play that game, you little tease.” And with that, he
pulled his hard length out from his shorts. Staring at the
swollen purple head she’d admired so many times before, she
actually found herself salivating. Salivating and frustrated
because she could no more move to him than he could to her. She
whimpered, causing him to grin. Everything began to tease her.
The rhythm of the current pounding against the canoe, the warm
air currents teasing her skin, even the sounds of bees buzzing
through the wild roses and apple blossoms at the river’s edge.
Her fingers moved faster, trying to relieve the frustration she
was enduring.

Then once again, she heard the hull of the canoe bump and lift
from the water. Since she’d been more or less lying down, she
could not see ahead of them; only the green branches over her
husband’s head. She looked up quickly, and found that they were
on a sandy shoal at the edge of a large grassy flood plain.
Quickly he stumbled out, dragged the canoe solidly up on the
sand and pulled her from her seat. She rushed to keep up,
panting nearly as hard as he. As soon as they were on the
grass, she collapsed to her knees, reaching for his tumescent
prize. Lovingly she slurped down its length, his fingers
tangling through her hair while he moaned. After only a few
minutes, he pushed her away. Without words, she turned onto her
hands and knees and presented him with her wet opening.

Greedily, he thrust his own now wet member into her, causing
them both to moan loudly. He pumped into her, his pace
astonishing. The long grass beneath them brushed her skin,
rasping against her hardened, sensitive nipples, causing sparks
to fly before her eyes. Her body began to tremble announcing
her impending orgasm, since her panting had robbed her of her
voice. Her body stiffened as he pulled out with a groan,
spraying his cum over her rounded backside. Collapsing forward,
she rested her heated skin against the soft, cool grass. After
a few moments, when the orgasm passed, she wobbled down to the
river to rinse off.

“Wow.” She smiled at him. He nodded in agreement.

Catching her breath she added, “I can’t wait to go canoeing
again.”

Copyright 2003 Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com)

As always, if you aren’t allowed to read erotic material where
you are, please leave now. If you can’t vote, go away. All
comments not only welcome but desired. Read and enjoy.
*******************************************

“Let me go with you,” she wheedled. “I’ll paddle, and you can
troll.”

He sighed. “You know I prefer to fish alone.”

She knew. She knew how he would go out for hours, leaving her
with the children, whole weekends where she would see him for
minutes a day. Weekends where, during the winter, he’d be giving
that sort of undivided attention to her. It was six weeks into
fishing season, and she was starting to get itchy.

“Mom said she’d take the kids, so we could go,” she said.

He tried to dissuade her. “We’ll be paddling upriver.”

However, she loved to canoe, and didn’t have a problem with
that. With the enforced inactivity of the last few weeks, she
was looking forward to any sort of exercise.

“We’ll be fine. I’ll even pack some lunch.” She smiled.

“Whatever floats your boat, sweetheart.”

She grinned wider. It was as if he was giving her carte
blanche, and she knew how she wanted to use it. She was going
to go fishing too, but her quarry was a mite more skittish than
your average trout.

Together they packed the car with all the canoeing necessities,
loaded the kids up and dropped them off on the way.

It was a beautiful May day. The sun was bright and warm, the
sky that perfect robin’s egg blue. The open windows in the car
let in the occasional waft of fragrance from lilacs and apple
trees in bloom.

She heard the water gurgling in the distance as he pulled the
car into the small gravel lot.

They trudged with their equipment down the steep embankment to
the river. Wide, but not too wide, slow moving for spring, and
reflecting the perfect sky in its clear, dark depths.

The canoe slid smoothly into the calm water. He took the
paddle and pushed off like a punter against the ground,
thrusting them into the current. They took turns on the sides
of the canoe; she on the left, he on the right. And then by
some unseen agreement they would switch sides. The sound of the
water lulled them.

They paddled far upriver, passing only one boat, surrounded by
wilderness on either side; only the distant hum of the highway
in the far distance let them know they were not in the distant
past. They dropped anchor in small pools, allowing him to cast
into the eddies the trout seemed to prefer.

She watched him. He’d carefully choose his lure then cuss when
it snagged on an unseen underwater branch. She opened her book
and read quietly, the current gently bouncing the boat. She hid
her little smirk behind the book when the line snapped.
Patiently, he’d put on another lure and cast back into the eddy.
This time, he managed to pull out a nice brownie. After
releasing it, he pulled anchor. Without being told she stowed
her book and picked up her paddle, moving them even deeper into
the wild.

They followed this tack for a while. The sun warmed them,
until it was overhead, and they pulled out the sandwiches they’d
brought for lunch. She munched on the ham and cheese as he
continued to cast his lures and reel them back. The cicadas were
creating a hum in the distance, and the sun was warm upon her
…End of the part1. To be continued..

Dear friends and readers,
This is different from many of the stories you’ve seen me write. It is more or less true (names and places have been changed to protect …well, ME). I had my first real boyfriend when I was 14, and a sophomore in high school. I began my diary. Told it more than just my dating quandaries, but filled with all sorts of teenage angst and melodramatics. (and looking back, I could be incredibly melodramatic). The diary ended about a month before my wedding, so I guess you really could call this the Dating Diary.
Why post my pathetic diary? Easy. While I realize many of us write in fantasy, I’m tired of 14/16 year olds thinking like 30 year olds. Realism Folks! And what’s more real than an actual diary? In some respects the writing sucks. I have changed nothing but actual names. Thought about elaborating, but then, you’d get my near 30 year brain in places it doesn’t belong. This is what it is.
The basics, however, still apply. This is my work, (for better or worse) is copyrighted by me, and no posting without my prior permission. Celeste’s blow job principle is still in action guys. This may or may not include adult situations, so if you’re not allowed to watch a nc-17 movie, scram. All others enjoy (or not *shrug *).
*************************************************************************
Dating Diary 1989 Part 1
By Dryad

Dear Diary, 1/2/89
Happy New Year! 12/30 I went to a party at Lianne’s house. I talked with Josh some and played pictionary. Then freeze tag (joke; it was freezing out!) with Amanda, Beth, Mike, Seth and me. I talked with Seth for a while. Then Mike dumped men’s cologne down my neck…and it burned my skin! I had fun anyway.

Linc hired someone new. Her name is Dianne Chandler. Mom use to know her. She’s really interested in Palms, Zodiac, and thinks like that-cool!. I really must go to bed now. I finished the first chapter in my book. I’m not going to do my report for Foreign Policy-I’m going to drop it if I can. If not, I’ll fail it. It’s not an important class anyway. G’night!

Dear Diary, 1/8/89
Today is Sunday. I went to work today and yesterday. Not much is going on. I’m trying out for the play tomorrow. (wish me luck!) I’m going to fail FP. Its all right though. I didn’t want to (well, I WANTED to, I just didn’t care) because I’m not handing in my report. [Dryad note: this class was mostly seniors; and the teacher in his infinite wisdom wanted a 15 page paper, when all the other semester long social science classes were asking for 3-5 page papers. Retreat was the better part of valour] So unless I drop out well, ..

I read the Scarlet Letter- I got a 10 out of 10 (I think) on my test. Tuesday’s a half-day, so I’m working. I haven’t done anymore on my story. If I make auditions-call-backs are on Wednesday. In French-the teacher told us there’s a trip to Quebec and we would stay with host families. I’m trying to talk my parents into it-hah! I’ll never see Quebec! It’s $350. Now Mom and dad say I might not be able to get my car-because they don’t want it added to their insurance. “I have to be 18 to have my own”. Says their insurance company. I’m tired. Night!

Dear Diary, 1/16/89
Well, I finally did convince my parents, but decided not to go. $350 is a lot of money. Anyway, I got called back Wed, but I didn’t make it. I’m surprised, because I was told I did a good job- by many people-oh well! I still have my period- what a pain.

I got a letter from Alicia today. It was neat. My life is dead-boring, that is, I need a vacation-mom laid into dad about not taking a vacation for 4 years! What a bummer. Gotta go!

Dear Diary, 1/20/89
Life is okay. I got a 70 on my English exam. Then, I got an 80 for the marking period. So I got a 78 for the semester. A big doozy though, I got a 17 out of 70 on my algebra test. Booo! I’m getting a 64 in that class.

Anyway, I now have $1052.46 in the bank. Yay! I’m proud of myself. I went shopping and bought a magenta cardigan sweater, a pink 10 button shirt, and 2 bathing suits. (and some earrings) One bathing suit is all black with a black and turquoise twisted belt. It comes up on the hip cut out on the back and has a crisscross shape in the front. So it is low cut. The other is higher cut on the hip, and straight on the top. The sides are cut out and the back is the same. It is green and gold. About an inch in the front and 3 in the back along the bottom seam is plain black. The earrings are gold and look like filigree. Lianne was surprised at the prices (the bathing suits I got on clearance for $5 each. And she paid $36 for one of hers!) I better go to bed now, I have to go to work to pay for all this in the morning!

Dear Diary, 1/29/89
It is Sunday. My exams were so-so. I got a 93 on my CPR exam.; an 82 on my chemistry. I don’t know what I got on my French, and I got a 57 on my Algebra. Boohoo. I skipped my foreign policy exam.

I nearly got sick in work yesterday, so my check will be tiny. (I only worked 2 3/4 hrs) I came home and slept. (and slept and slept). Got some new clothes on Monday, a pair of lime green gypsy pants and a peach print button shirt. I cleaned out my clothes (it’s about time) I got 2 large garbage bags of clothes to get rid of!

Lianne and I had a long talk on the phone; an hour. I did some cross stitch; a dove. It came out okay. Psychology is going to be interesting. I watched this new show called “dolphin cove”. It takes the place of “high mountain rangers”. But it’s still a decent show.

I am trying to become a better part of society. ( I would say better myself, but to a certain extent, I was happy with myself, just not with what everyone thought of me.) new clothes, new personality, (to an extent)

Josh is starting to bother me. He hurt me. They made up this word in English class; my name and “gross”. I wanted to calmly stand up, walk over to his seat, slap him in the face and coolly walk out. And if he brings that word up again, I will (leave that is). I don’t know if I could, but my dignity can only stand so much. Maybe instead I stand up and tell everyone who is laughing that if they can only get their laughs from other peoples expense, then they have no feelings and that it’s would be a wonder that they world is around if people like them ruled the world. THEN walk out. I’m tired of making up arguments with people who aren’t there. G’night.

Dear Diary, 1/31/89
Today I sent out my income tax paper. I am soooo sore from aerobics yesterday; OUCH! I had a French quiz, which I think I did okay on. I am starting to copy over my English notebook which is turning out as an enormous task. (I’m up to the 3rd part out of 8 and they are the easiest. Oh, well. I’ll get it caught up by the end of February. I hope. Oh, well, not much else, goodnight.

Dear Diary, 2/15/89
I’m so sorry I haven’t written in so long. I have sent Alicia a letter. I got an 80 in English, and 82 in Chemistry, and 88 (?) in CPR, a 70 in Gym (he gives 70’s to everyone.) a 74 in French, (raised my grade 12 points!) Algebra a 64, and I failed foreign policy, of course.

We have a student teacher in French. She’s really sweet. I have started to work on the party scene of the Competition! [Dryad note: our area held play competitions between schools; this particular year, we did "Desire Under the Elms" by Eugene o' Neil] Also, I have been assigned, (yippee!) to property mistress! (Double yippee!) for “12 Angry Women” which I hear isn’t going to well. (Oh, well)

Oh, yes! We have a new employee at Linc’s! Gorgeous 17-year-old Mark and he is THE most conceited arrogant, pompous ass you have ever met! He says a woman’s place is in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant, a woman is the same thing as a slave and he said 15 year olds are babies. AUGH! Asked if he thought he was God’s gift to women…he answered. “No, I know I am.” Male chauvinist pig! Now he calls me “diapers” He said he’s going to give me a box of pampers wrapped in a ribbon. I told Cole and he said I should have answered him, “Why are you expecting to get me pregnant?” What a fantastic comeback!

I told Mark I don’t get mad, I get even. Now, his most precious thing (next to himself of course) is his car. He told me if I touch it he’d break my face; ah well, it’d be worth it. I could sue for any serious damage. So far here’s the list I have
· Disconnect the battery cables
· Write on his windshield with lipstick
· Let the air out of his tires
· Turn his lights on when he gets to work (it would kill the battery)
· Put sugar in his gas tank
· Lock his keys in his car
· Put rocks in his gas tank
· Put a potato in his exhaust
· Toilet paper it, then wet it down
· Rewire his starter [dryad note: yes, I can do that!]
· Take off the distributor cap
· Put peanut butter on the fan belts
· Put water in the gas tank
· Put shaving cream on his locks
· Make him “lose” his keys.

No permanent damage though, so that leaves out a few. Not bad. Gotta do homework now.
P.S. Chris worships Mark-Disgusting!

[Dryad note: Part 2 Should be more interesting!]

Copyright Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com) 2003

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

I’ll be waiting with “baited breath”, like the cat who ate cheese, and sat by
the mousehole.
_____
/ ‘ /
,-/-, __ __. ____ /_
(_/ / (_(_/|_/ / <_ / <_

P.S. Do you mind if I save this letter, except for your name, and use it
and my response to answer any future flames/criticism? It helps not
to have to do it twice.
P.P.S. I got the scanner, and recovered part-2. Story follows this post.
PLEASE don't get squicked, until you've finished the whole story.
THEN feel free to let me have it with both barrels. ;-}

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

IN> Frank,

IN>1. Using my last letter to respond to other critics, some
IN>probably not as friendly. I re-read the letter, and it is fine, except
IN>for my personal identity, which you should please safeguard totally, and
IN>the first paragraph. The first paragraph is not only irrelevant to the
IN>story, but also is pretty identifiable as written by me. To those who
IN>know me, that may be true of the whole thing, but they would not be able
IN>to prove anything, so go ahead.

I’ll remove the first paragraph, and anything else that points to you.

IN>2. Have not yet had time to go over “BfF I” in the detail I
IN>promised, to send you the minor typos, etc. Hope to do so today,
IN>if not, tomorrow.

I’ll wait on both stories for your criticism.

IN>3. “Bound for Fun II” – the blistering literary criticism! ;=}

IN>Anyway, I liked “BfF II” It certainly
IN>did not squick me. It dealt well with the trust issues, and the whole
IN>fascination with violence and torture as “fun” when in the real world
IN> 1) they actually go on, and
IN> 2) they are __NO fun.

Amen.

IN>Now, the literary hard part for me, is that I must tell you that you
IN>did not pull the wool over the reader’s eyes. This reader, at least.
IN>Jones is clearly too careful of Lynn’s feelings, her peripheral
IN>circulation, etc. etc. for him to actually be planning to kill her
IN>This plot reminds me of the movie “The Sting” I thought that
IN>was a fantastic movie, because it was all about a sting operation, and
IN>audience member thinks he is in on it, but in the end, gets totally
IN>taken in himself, and actually gasps when it appears that one of the good
IN>guys kills the other. Again, at least this viewer.

IN>I do not read a lot of the NC stories, except the Parker works,
IN>and so I am not too good at telling you what a NC perpetrator must “think
IN>like” in a story, but one thing is that he must be totally
IN>uncaring about the victim, except regarding leaving clues.
IN>Clues don’t really have to do with
IN>the victim, just protecting himself, but at least that as close as he gets
IN>to giving a damn about the victim. Jones is way too careful.
IN>He is also clearly too nice a guy. I really don’t know
IN>how to remedy this from the dramatic
IN>viewpoint in the story. That he is careful is okay,
IN> but that he is careful of the girl’s
IN>feelings and comfort is not. I don’t know how to get across his care,
IN>and maybe carefully and intentionally mislead the innocent reader, with
IN>statements
IN>that when read quickly look like the self-centered detail worries of a
IN>schmuck trying to cover the clues, but on rereading after the surprise
IN>ending actually may be interpreted to see that he was looking out for
IN>her all along. A difficult task,
IN>but the only way I can see to get the desired effect and leave it in 1st
IN>person.

The idea was never to pull the wool over the reader’s eyes. The Idea was
to see if you could convince the reader that “Joe” was good enough and
convincing enough to pull the wool over Lynn’s eyes. Since you don’t point
…End of the part3. To be continued..

It was only an email message from my girlfriend. I mean, how ominous could something so seemingly innocuous possibly be? Melinda wanted me to meet her at 9:00 P.M. at her home. She hadn’t discussed the possibility of anything resembling a date for the occasion, so there were no definitive plans to go anywhere or to engage in any specific activities except for my visiting her at the house. Simple enough, one would think we would simply pleasure ourselves with one another’s company once we got together. Since I had never actually been inside her home before, I was certain that there would be plenty for us to see and do.

Upon reading the message a second time, however, I felt the familiar sensation of beetles dancing in my stomach and goosebumps raising on my skin. The single paragraph email was more of an order than an invitation. There were no directions to call her to confirm things and it hadn’t seemed as though she’d considered the possibility that something urgent would arise at the last moment. The unspoken instruction was to drop everything and attend, an instruction she knew I was certain to follow.

With each successive encounter, Melinda seemed to be consolidating the rather dominant role she had defined for herself in our relationship. She was the one who initially pursued me at a party thrown by a mutual acquaintance, cornering and engaging me in a conversation about blues artists. It was a subject she somehow knew would pique my interest and about which she proved to be unusually knowledgeable, a trait that impressed me greatly.

When the conversation drifted to topics of a more personal nature, Melinda bemoaned the fact that her 5’11″ frame and assertive nature intimidated many of the men she dated. She was indeed a rare beauty, tall and statuesque, of Asian ancestry and wearing a clingy jade green silk dress, a garment that accentuated her shapely body exceptionally well. I took the opportunity to reveal my interest in her.

“Well,” I stuttered, “perhaps then you need to find someone older than yourself who’s maybe a bit more mature.” I smiled broadly, pausing for just a second, “maybe someone like me.” Melinda looked into my eyes, her curiosity piqued.

“And what makes you think that you’re older than I am?” She giggled just slightly, but knowingly, as though she were guarding a secret.

“Umm… it’s obvious.” I smiled and shifted uncomfortably, not wishing to reveal too much. “You’re still a young woman, I’m approaching middle age.” Melinda smiled and pecked me tenderly on the lips.

“Awww, that’s sweet,” she cooed softly, “but please remember that things are not always as they seem, and that it’s not too difficult sometimes to get yourself into more trouble than you had bargained for.”

“Trouble?” I chuckled, sensing a cryptic come on. “I’d risk all the trouble in the world for someone like you.” I watched her eyes widen as she licked her lips and looked me up and down, in much the same manner that a butcher would inspect a side of beef.

“Yes,” she repeated, “trouble. You look like a man well worth having, but I need for you to understand what you’re getting yourself into” I shot a quick glance between Melinda’s legs as she uttered the words “getting yourself into.”

“I would take that chance for the opportunity to be with someone like you,” I smiled, eyeing her in the same manner she had me.

Melinda didn’t utter a word, rather she smiled and took me by the hand, leading me to an adjacent bedroom. The ensuing sexual encounter, while indescribably erotic in the conventional sense, was also one of the more esoteric trysts I had ever experienced. Melinda repeatedly licked my head and neck, and seemed to have an unusual interest in a tiny spot on my face where I’d recently cut myself shaving. She sucked on the small wound, successfully drawing a drop of blood, smiling as she swirled it sensually on her tongue. Melinda sucked harder and carefully drew a tiny stream of blood. She raked it across her teeth, smiling, then cupped my face in her hands. She pulled us nose to nose and swallowed slowly, her mouth puffing up into a contented grin as I lost myself in her earthy gaze. A powerful chill simultaneously danced up my spine, short circuiting my nervous system and briefly buckling my knees. I knew in the depths of my being that it was coming through her eyes.

Those eyes, gazing deeply into mine, piercing my psyche and laying a claim on my soul.

“On you knees, lover,” she whispered, pushing on my shoulders until I crumpled deliriously to the floor. Melinda guided my head under her dress, between her legs, shrinking the size of my world, encapsulating me in a velvety darkness strongly punctuated by the aroma of her most intimate scent. I allowed my mouth to hang open, my tongue protruding ever so slightly.. until a strong hand clutched the back of my neck and pushed me into her sex.

I greeted the swelled, moist familiar shape of engorged labia lips with abandon; suckling, licking, kissing and slurping. I greedily swallowed her wetness like a dehydrated man inhaling the last few drops from a spent canteen. I was overcome with arousal, then dizziness, then an odd detachment as the secretions stung my eyes and dribbled down my throat. Melinda clamped her thighs around my face and spent herself on me, her moans muffled as I instinctively parted my jaws to catch and consume her gushing juices.

Melinda lifted her dress, split her legs and I dropped. I fought an odd altered state of semi-paralysis as I fell to the floor, watching helplessly as she methodically undressed us and mounted my stiff cock, fucking me hard and deep, pinning my wrists and raking her teeth across the soft skin on my neck. When she drew blood she sucked and lapped it luxuriantly as though she were a debutante at a wine tasting. Melinda rode herself to a long, throaty orgasm before dismounting and taking my cock into her hand. With a few short jerks I spasmed in climax,sending a rope of hot cum spewing across my stomach and chest. She smeared my spunk evenly across my body before piercing her own finger with a needle, carefully measuring out a few drops of her own blood and commingling it with my semen, forming a paste of sorts. I watched helplessly.. my limbs still feeling like lead.. as she dolloped the mixture lightly onto strategic areas on my body, my forehead, my neck, behind my kneecaps, and on my scrotal sac. Then she rose and stood over me.. licking her lips.. a predatory smile crossing her face.

“There is no turning back now, my love,” I breathed deeply, feeling the paralysis abate a little. I looked into her eyes as she licked her lips. “You are to be mine.” Melinda helped me to my feet, rubbing the mixture of drying bodily fluids deeper into my skin.

“I don’t want you to shower today, darling.” she cooed, “I want you to think about me all night and through tomorrow. I want our scents to linger and I want every thought that enters your mind to be prefaced with a thought about me. Now get dressed and go home.” She turned and walked away, blowing a brief kiss as my strength returned. I staggered away, staying at the party only long enough to regain my composure before slipping away.
***********************************************************************

I had no trouble finding the house. It was a modest, modern split level bungalow overlooking the ocean with an oversized front yard and a chained Rottweiler dog barking in the front yard. Although it was difficult to make out specific details in the darkness, it was obvious that the structure was tidy and well kept up.

I had an ominous feeling as I approached the house, having dated Melinda for some months now and nurturing a premonition of dread I was afraid awaited me on this particular day. We had replayed the sexual tryst that took place on our first meeting several times by now, at some times more intensely than at others. It always involved her consumption of a small quantity of my blood and my wearing a small quantity of hers. I couldn’t help but feel a psychic exchange, a compromise of my free will, a progressive invasion of my soul strengthened with each encounter. Melinda was on my mind more and more frequently, and it became increasingly difficult for me to concentrate on my job or many of the more mundane matters of my day to day life. I found myself masturbating perpetually, neglecting my own affairs for the sake of fondling thoughts about my sweet siren.

The dog growled ominously at me as I teetered up the walkway. I jumped as he lunged for my leg, barely escaping the animal’s clenching jaws as I retreated, hearing a sharp rebuke break the darkness.

“Bruce!” It was Melinda. “That will be enough of that.” Melinda looked into my eyes as she swatted the retreating dog and smiled at me deeply, greeting me with a warm embrace.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, the puppy will not harm you,” Melinda licked her lips, “only I will harm you.”

She was casually dressed, wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and her trademark python boots. I smiled nervously and offered her my arm, which she took as she led me into the modestly furnished home. We seated ourselves on the sofa, at which time she kissed my forehead tenderly and caressed my hair.

“How are you feeling, darling?” Her concern seemed genuine enough.

“Well, I-” Melinda smiled.

“Nervous, scared, a little afraid of me, aren’t you?” I nodded tentatively, pierced again by those globular brown eyes, softening and comforting me now as she stroked my hair again and cradled me in her arms.

“I know, darling.. I know. It’s normal to feel that way right about now. My other pets all had the same experience, so be still. Don’t make things worse by resisting me. I am here to guide you through this unsettling time. After tonight, things will become much clearer for you.” Melinda leaned over to kiss me, pushing her tongue deep inside my mouth, enveloping me in the familiar canopy of control that had come to characterize our relationship.

She kissed passionately for a moment, then broke it off, abruptly directing my attention to an old high school science textbook she had placed on the coffee table. I thought it odd to punctuate an erotic moment by consulting a drab reference, but I said nothing. She leisurely picked the book up and began leafing through the pages. Melinda found the appropriate place and grinned. The article looked to be one about a specific insect.

“You know what? This has got to be my favorite bug,” Melinda spoke casually and pointed out a picture of an odd looking little creature. I looked, mildly curious, wondering where she was going with this train of thought. “..Abrostocetus Hagenowii.. it’s a tiny little wasp that lives in the western United States. It’s a little carnivore which feeds primarily on carrion, but when it comes time for the wasp to reproduce, it does a very curious thing.” Melinda looked into my eyes, licking her lips, then continued.

“It goes out and searches for an insect to host its eggs. Typically this is a beetle or some similar creature.. generally much larger than the wasp itself. It stings the beetle with a poison that disorients it without killing it. The wasp waits patiently for the poison to take effect, to make his prey nice and docile.” Melinda took time out from her narrative to stroke my hair, placing special emphasis on the word “docile.”

“The wasp then measures and chops off a portion of the beetle’s antennae, effectively rendering it senseless. It then herds the confused prey into its lair, where it lays an egg on it and gives the beetle one more sting to put it to sleep without killing it. When the egg hatches, well…” Melinda smiled and closed the book “..let’s just say that breakfast is served.” I looked at Melinda’s soft smile and squirmed uncomfortably, dreading that she was preparing to draw an analogy of some sort between the carnivorous insect and the two of us. I didn’t have to wait long.

“Relationships are funny, daniel. Really they are. There’s always a good deal of talk about equality and the equitable distribution of power. But in the real world, partners are seldom equals. Typically one partner very clearly takes charge.” Melinda looked right at me. “In this particular case, I think the partner who has taken charge of things has been me, wouldn’t you agree?”

“You’ve taken charge sexually, I will admit to that, but I don’t necessarily think that means that-” Melinda laughed throatily.

“Oh, but it does. And I plan to prove it to you.” She licked the tip of her finger, trailing it along my nose and lips slowly, resting it on a tuft of chest hair. “daniel, would you like to share with me what has happened to you since we met? Do you find yourself thinking about me a lot?”

“Uhmm.. I think about you, yeah.. but I think that’s normal in a er-uhmmm.. man woman relationship.” Melinda just laughed and licked her finger again, unbuttoning the top button on my shirt.

“I think you’re not telling the whole truth, daniel. I believe that you think of me all the time. I believe that your first thought in the morning is of me and the last thought at night before you turn in is of me also.” I gulped and sighed heavily as she locked her eyes onto mine. Melinda smiled and tugged my chest hair. Her voice lowered as she moved close to me and almost whispered in my ear. “I’ve bitten you, daniel. Just like the wasp, I have confused you and paralyzed you. I have disoriented you, rendering you nearly unable to function. The first part of my plan has gone well, very well indeed.” I looked at her for a minute, horrified, then began to stand up.

“I think-I think I need to leave…” I stood up, but found myself dizzy, dazed, barely able to move. It was impossible to find the door. Melinda came over and grabbed my wrists, forcing them over my head and looking into my eyes. She spoke softly, unsmiling.

“Sit down, daniel..” Her grip was strong, my soul riveted. The senses that had betrayed me returned once I was in her grasp. The only option was obedience. I sat down and Melinda smiled.

“That’s very good, my love. Now let me explain a little bit about what is going to happen next. Please keep in mind that what I am about to impart to you constitutes ancient knowledge, very powerful and profound. If you weren’t already mine, I wouldn’t share any of this with you. However the process has already progressed beyond your mortal ability to stop it.” She smirked and sat next to me, stroking my hair and wiping the perspiration from my brow. She took a deep breath and looked as though she was preparing to deliver a familiar speech. Melinda licked her lips and cleared her throat.

“Many centuries ago, a group of women who lived in the South American Andes discovered something very special about the psychic connection between the exchange of bodily fluids between people and the ensuing bond that may be formed from that exchange. In many cases, the bond is egalitarian, and people develop a relationship akin to one that close siblings would have.” Melinda paused and smiled, gently stroking my neck near the carotid artery. “The ancient women, however, discovered that such an exchange coupled with very specific sexual acts allowed them to gain control of their partners to an almost frightening degree. They further noticed that each psychic and sexual conquest allowed them to restore their youthful beauty and vigor, and eventually that it allowed them to extend their lifespans for an extraordinary period of time.” Melinda licked my neck, lightly scraping her teeth across my artery. I noted an increase in my heart rate, as well as a sense of impending doom. “The lifespans of the men, by contrast, tended also to lengthen by such exchanges. But they benefited in other ways as well, because the essence of the woman lived in them, providing a calming influence and checking their beastly nature for as long as they did live. The man also had an unusual opportunity to express his total devotion and undying love for his woman by offering himself to her in this manner.”

“So you mean to tell me that you’re a vam- vampire?” I was aghast, trying to resist her but feeling the psychic leash tightening. Melinda laughed.

“No, silly. Modern vampire stories are based on the reality of what I just explained to you. They are also terribly sexist and inaccurate, since they almost always depict a male vampire and a female supplicant. Typical nineteenth century sexism, in my opinion. The reality is completely different, the roles are utterly reversed.” Melinda smiled. “I haven’t taken your soul yet, but once I do you will feel the length, depth, and breadth of my power over you.” I looked at her in disbelief, a rebellion welling within me.

“This is absurd. For you to lay claim to my “soul” based upon your swallowing a few drops of my blood is…ridiculous!” Melinda’s eyes narrowed as she looked down at me. I felt a familiar twinge in my stomach and those dark brown eyes burrowing through me. I sensed her displeasure but continued with my diatribe.
“..hypnosis, perhaps, or the inducement of a peculiar form of panic. I attribute that to some skillful erotic manipulation on your part. But a “soul” is far to ethereal to quantify, much less possess.” Melinda only grinned and then spoke very, very softly.

“Oh but the soul does exist, daniel. Your soul will, in fact, be taken over by mine before the evening is over.” She ran a finger along my forehead and nose, scratching very lightly, then down my lips to my neck. She pinched a spot on my throat ever so slightly. “Right there is a good place, I think. That’s always a wonderful spot to open a wound. The blood tends to gush, and the supplicant does stop resisting after only a few seconds.” She smiled as I began to back away from her on the sofa. Melinda followed, scooting near. “Don’t worry, I won’t kill or even seriously injure you. But I am going to make you mine. You will know what it is to be overwhelmed by a force which you cannot comprehend.” She smiled wickedly as I shook my head wordlessly, fearfully, trying in vain to keep her at bay.

Melinda reached out and grabbed me suddenly by the ear, pulling my head abruptly towards hers. I resisted, jerking away as she pulled harder and managed to snake her other hand through some of my hair. After roughly yanking my head to one side to expose the arteries bulging beneath my skin, she opened her mouth wide, clamping down hard on me and sealing the grip tightly with her lips. I felt her tongue briefly scan my defenseless neck, searching, probing for exactly the right spot, then shrieked in terror as her incisors punctured me, simultaneously drawing the blood from my body and yet holding me tenderly, beckoning me wordlessly not to fight her. I felt her skillfully take my essence from me, the blood spilling out of me in hot spurts at first until I became dizzy and detached, unable to resist her, perched on the cusp of losing consciousness.

She stopped sucking and just lapped at my wound now, seemingly able to stem the flow of blood from my severed artery magically with a few strokes of her tongue. She licked like a kitten, trailing her tongue leisurely across my neck, savoring the liquid that remained until she had consumed it, then blowing lightly on the bite to seal it shut before looking into my eyes.
I met her gaze weakened and barely to move or breathe, my mouth agape, so submissive and contrite. Her eyes were a conduit for something powerful, and as I lost myself in their depths I felt something enter me, an energy dancing electrically down my spine and then back up again, filling me with vigor yet not filling me too fully. Melinda leaned down and kissed me deeply, forcing her tongue inside me, painting the roof of my mouth with the taste of my own blood. She pulled back, regarding me, licking her lips and smiling broadly.

“Stand up and take off all your clothes.” she said. “Do it slowly. Unwrap yourself like a Christmas gift for me.” I did as she said, slowly rising and removing my clothing methodically as she kicked me a little with her boot.

“Dance, boy. Don’t bore me. You need to keep me happy.” I responded by dancing sinuously, sensually for her, moving licentiously to some imaginary tune I knew she was thinking of, teasing like a strip club performer and slowly disrobing.
I surprised myself and delighted her, my limbs taking a life of their own as my own motor skills were repressed. I took my cues from her gaze, ultimately winding up naked before her and suddenly weak again, collapsing into the couch beside her. She looked at me and smiled, stroking my hair, then forcing my mouth open. She deliberately cut her finger on my tooth and then removed her hand, dotting her blood on my face, neck, and shoulders, marking me, purring lowly. My body responded almost on cue with a deep sexual arousal as
she moved down to grope my genitals, deliciously painting them in blood as she did so. She licked my neck and face again, then paused to look into my eyes.

“We’re almost finished, daniel. Very soon now you will be mine.” Melinda locked her eyes onto mine, pulling me into an inescapable psychic vortex. She continued speaking softly, sensuously, and very slowly. “The bondage I’m creating for you involves an exchange of fluids, daniel. I have extracted and consumed a good deal of blood from your body, but unless you extract and consume a specific bodily fluid of mine, the bond will not seal.” She stroked my hair and tended to the wound on my neck with her finger, continuing. “The final exchange must be consensual. I cannot force you to relinquish your soul, nor would I desire the soul of one who would notwillingly give it to me.” She kissed me tenderly on the cheek and looked into my eye, stroking my hair. “I’ve taken you this far, daniel, will you allow me to guide you the rest of the way into your new life?” I inhaled sharply and trembled, mustering my vanquished will, and glared defiantly, albeit weakly.

“No.” I whispered, almost inaudibly. Melinda looked at me and broke into a giggle.

“No? Are you saying no to me?” I nodded as she continued to chuckle, almost as though she’d expected such a response.

“Please Melinda,” I whispered softly, weakly, nude and rock hard before my fully clothed girlfriend. “please let me go. I don’t want this. Allow me to go home. Give me my life back.” Melinda just smiled and spoke softly.

“Darling, if you want me to release you from your bondage, I will freely do so.” She licked her lips and held me tightly, her hand stroking my rock hard cock. “You should know, however, that your carotid artery is severed. It is only the spell of dominance that I’m weaving which keeps your blood behind its walls. Should I release you now, you will likely bleed to death in less than a minute.” She smiled triumphantly as I whimpered, not certain whether to believe her but knowing that a mistake could be fatal. She continued to speak. “So you see, sweetheart, while you may be free of me if you so desire, this is the last time you will ever say ‘no’ to me regardless of your decision.”

Melinda smiled and abruptly stood up, breaking eye contact, striding purposefully across the room. “Come to me darling. Crawl to me. Give yourself willingly, unconditionally. Surrender to me. I give you a minute to decide before I break the spell. Choose your freedom and die, or be mine and live forever!”

My consciousness churned like a tornado. I looked across the room at Melinda standing, legs spread and arms crossed, licking her lips. She was so sexy, so powerful, and essentially irresistible. I crumpled to the floor and found myself crawling slowly, hand over hand, knee over knee, to where she stood. She looked down at me, expressionless, unimpressed.

“Tell me what you want, daniel. Tell me now, please.”

“I want…” The words came with great difficulty “I want to be yours, Melinda.” She looked down at me, smiling slightly.

“Mmmmm, I must have scared you then, mustn’t I?” She strode in a circle around me as my body began to weaken. I could feel the wound on my neck begin to crack open slightly, with a few drops of blood trickling out and spilling onto the floor. “Why should I have you now? Just a moment ago you wanted me to release you. Is your change of heart truly out of devotion to me, or is it to save your own hide?”

“Please, Melinda! I beg you!” A warm stream trickled down my neck, nestling in my chest hairs and dripping onto the floor. The severed artery was breaking open. “I don’t want to die!”

“Not good enough,” she smirked. “Nobody wants to die. Either convince me now that I should take you or I shall shortly feed your carcass to the dog!” I shook with terror as the wound opened a bit more, the stream of blood gushing a little more freely, my senses reeling, lightheadedness setting in. I looked up at her in reverie, deciding suddenly to bare my soul.

“Oh Melinda, I-I must be dense. I have not been able to grasp what has been happening to me of late.” I barely noticed as the trickle of blood began to slow. “I love you and want to be with you, but I am afraid of you as well. Please don’t misinterpret my trepidation. My first response is a cautious one when it comes to ownership of my soul, but if I were to give it away, it would be to you.” Melinda looked down at me and smiled, mussing my hair ever so slightly.

“That is sweet, daniel. But do you really feel that way? Would you really give it freely if it were not forced upon you?”

“Yes, Mistress.” It was the first time I had called her that. “To you, I would give it freely.” Melinda held me close. The bleeding had stopped.

“Then I release you,” she said. “The spell is broken. You will not die. Should you choose to walk away from this relationship right this minute, the wound will not reopen. You are free.”

“No, Mistress,” I nuzzled next to her legs. “I would rather that you take me if you will have me.” Melinda smiled down on me, then bent over to plant a kiss on the crown of my head.

“Thank you, daniel. That is very sweet. We must complete the exchange in order to seal the bond. Are you ready to do that now?” I nodded, weakening just a little bit once again. She looked down at me. “daniel, I want you to use just your mouth to take down my pants, then I want you to pleasure me orally. When I climax, you will swallow all of it. You may feel a little strange as you do so. Don’t worry about that and don’t try to fight it. Just think of me, think of your life up until now, and consider what your future probably holds for you. Allow it to sweep you away. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mistress,” I reached for her belt using just my mouth. Melinda flashed an approving smile as I awkwardly tugged it loose. I wrapped my tongue and lips around the clasp holding her jeans up, and managed to unbuckle it. I unzipped the jeans with my lips and teeth, releasing a pungent, dizzying, intimate scent that served to weaken me a bit further as I tugged her panties down. Melinda grabbed me by the hair and began backing up, beckoning me to follow as she sat down on a leather easy chair, flipping her legs over my head, using her pulled down jeans to trap me between them as I found myself staring straight into her sex.

“Kiss me, slave. Worship me with your mouth and give me the gift of yourself.” I nuzzled my way up Melinda’s inner thigh, intoxicated by her feminine scent, and felt a tingle dance up my tongue as I touched her wet clitoris with it and commingled some of her juices with my saliva. I opened my mouth wide, holding my tongue out for her as she pulled me inside. I kissed and licked with abandon, letting go, bathing her pussy with my warm breath and plunging my tongue between her labia folds, curling it, suckling, swallowing her juices as my eyes burned and my face became numb. I felt a detachment, a displacement within my body, an almost incomprehensible sensation of ecstasy coupled with dread. I burrowed my tongue deeper within her, opening my mouth wider to capture her nectar, more ardently stimulated her genitalia with my lips, tongue, and nose, desiring above all else to please her and comply with her wishes. I jettisoned my free will and acquiesced, a decision I was certain she sensed when she pushed me deep within her wet crevice, clamping her thighs tightly shut, reaching down to hold me close and hug me as she climaxed, her juices covering my face and trickling down my throat.

Something intangible entered me, I’m not certain what. It worked its way down my head and shoulders to my torso, then my pelvis, and finally to the tips of my very toes. I felt a oneness with my Mistress, although the merging was not of an egalitarian nature. She enveloped me, took me over, pushed my psyche behind the scenes, and began taking control of my thoughts, feelings, and even my motor skills. I abruptly became rock hard, stiffer than I had ever recalled being, as what blood remained in my body engorged my organ as though on cue. She lifted me up by the hair and captured my gaze, pulling me towards her, thrusting her legs into the air, coaxing my hard cock between her labial folds.
I pushed myself inside her to the hilt, thrusting slowly at first, then faster, harder, and deeper as she writhed beneath me and emitted a low moan. Presently her eyes widened as she gazed at my wounded neck, hungrily lunging for and capturing it between her jaws again, emitting a primal scream as she fed on me and then threw me over onto my back. She rode me, taking me, as physically endowed with strength as I had been weakened, as though there had been a transfer. She bucked and writhed atop me, as I lay supine and unable to move, her mouth still fused to my neck. We climaxed simultaneously as I gave everything to her, moaning, shaking, writhing, and then collapsing powerless, paralyzed, feeling near death.

We lay like that for a while, with Melinda closing the wound on my neck with a few deft flicks of her tongue. She purred and enveloped me with her psyche, my spine tingling again as our eyes met and she seemed to restore my strength with her gaze. Melinda smiled down at me.

“Well, lover,” she asked. “How does it feel to be mine, utterly completely mine?” I looked up at her, awestruck, terrorized, defeated, and remade.

I tried to move my lips in response, but couldn’t. I simply couldn’t. Melinda kissed me tenderly on the forehead, licking her way down my face, sliding her tongue between my lips and probing my mouth delicately, nurturing me. She looked into my eyes, her expression softening into a luscious smile. “It’s okay my sweet,” she said. “No reply is necessary.”

It was quite the media spectacle. Television cameras whirred as I was led
into the courtroom, with each lens attempting to outposition the other for
the best shot as I shuffled past them. My naked body was trussed up in a
manner befitting a violent, dangerous criminal, my arms shackled securely to
a wide belt encircling my waist and my ankles fastened neatly together with
leg irons on a short chain. Several female police officers carved out an
entrance for me through the throng from the van to the courthouse and a
woman bailiff held each arm to escort me on my slow walk to my destination.
The public humiliation was part of a greater plan, and I could infer the
significance of it. Since the plague of 2017, colloquially called the “Y
chromosome plague” since it killed four fifths of the world’s men, the women
who had assumed the reins of power by default had been aggressively
deflating the status of the male on a global scale. First were the
“emergency measures” revoking all drivers’ licenses issued to men,
ostensibly to minimize the chances that any remaining males would be killed
in traffic mishaps. Next came statutes nullifying a man’s right to vote,
own property, sign contracts or serve on juries while the male population
“healed.” These events paralleled the emergence of a significant radical
female movement, which openly called for the subjugation of men.
With the passage of the recent “male management” laws, those of us who have
assembled and fought the blatant repression heaped upon our minority gender
have fallen prey to a vendetta pursued vigorously by the women who have come
to control the governments of the world. My trial, although technically
being convened to determine my guilt or innocence of the crime of rape, is
now symbolic both of our struggle and the attempts of the female population
to grind their spiked heels into our collective crotches. My naked shuffle
to the courthouse was humiliating, but it was symbolic of the freedom that
all men now longed for.
In our world, rape is not defined exclusively as an unwanted sexual attack
as it was in our grandparents’ day. While that definition of rape is still
valid, a much more common application of the law comes into play when a man
violates the new “attitude” clause when interacting with a woman. In other
words, it is now illegal, and may be interpreted as rape, for a man to gaze
upon a woman with “prurient”, or sexual, intent. Since any direct gaze may
be interpreted as a “prurient” gaze and upheld by the courts as a rape
conviction, most men generally spend their days with their eyes cast down to
avoid the probing eyes of females, who try to taunt them into looking up.
My arrest came to pass when I deliberately met the penetrating gaze of a
young woman in a moment of personal rebellion. The response from the police
was swift and sure, with two women officers throwing me to the ground,
cuffing and blindfolding me so that I could not “rape” anyone else, and
promptly transporting me to jail. I have been in custody ever since,
charged with a crime that carries a mandatory life sentence and castration.
The reason for the media hype was simple; today was the day that I was
scheduled to be cross-examined by the state. I had testified on my own
behalf the day before, with my own attorney asking a series of surprisingly
passive, dispassionate queries about my attitudes towards women. Although I
swore that I had never harbored any inappropriate sexual intentions towards
women, the all-female jury seemed largely unimpressed and even bored with my
discourse.
Today’s events would no doubt be different. The prosecutor had requested,
and the judge granted, permission to have me stripped naked in open court
for my testimony. Her intent, besides the obvious specter of public
humiliation, was to subject me to a demonstration that would prove the
necessity of “male management” laws by example both to the jury and a still
somewhat skeptical public. The waist and ankle restraints confining my
naked body were supposedly for my own protection during the demonstration,
but served as a significant psychological tool for the prosecutor.
All eyes were riveted to me as I was finally escorted into the courtroom.
I was not seated in a witness chair, but rather directed to stand in the
exact center of the room, in full view of the jury, judge, and both teams of
attorneys. A video camera was trained squarely on me to record my live
testimony for a global television audience. I was flanked on both sides by
armed bailiffs, powerful yet protective women who each held one of my arms
to help me maintain my balance during the ordeal I was about to endure.
The judge took her seat on the bench, glancing first towards me and then
the prosecutor. “Are we ready to begin, counselor?”
“Yes, your honor,” The prosecutor gathered together some papers on a
lectern looking me squarely and sternly in the eye. I compulsively glanced
away in deference and saw her smile slightly. She was an attractive,
professionally dressed woman of about thirty. She was of medium height and
build with ample breasts and honey colored shoulder length hair. She wore
a burgundy blazer and a mid-thigh length black miniskirt with a white
…End of the part1. To be continued..

At home, Lisa, our babysitter who was 18, was paid and I took her home,
a drive of only about three blocks. We’d met Lisa’s mother, a very attractive
woman in her late thirties, at the Palace, but Lisa didn’t know where we had
met her mom, nor that we went to the Palace too.
Arriving back home, I checked the baby, and then went to the bedroom. Kat
and Tracy were already naked and slowly caressing and kissing each other. They
asked me to join them, but I was fucked out. Kat crawled down the bed and she
sucked me into hardness, saying that at least I could fuck them all night now!
I told them I had to rest, and left them to ‘play’ for a while. I went
into the kitchen and put some decaf coffee on. I was now wearing only a robe,
and the warmth of the house felt good. I was pouring a cup of coffee when a
small noise made me look around. I listened, then heard Tracy’s soft moans from
the bedroom. As I walked into the bedroom, Tracy was sitting on Kat’s face,
clenching her tits and cumming. A movement by the glass door to the back yard
caught my attention, and I dashed out through another room, and around the side
of the house. I ran smack into Lisa, knocking her down.
“What the hell?” I said, looking at Lisa panting on the ground.
Lisa was looking at me too, but her eyes were fixed on my open robe and
my cock hanging down. “What are you doing here?” I asked her, closing my robe.
“I-I…I mean…I..” was all she could muster.
“Spit it out.” I said, leading her back towards the kitchen door.
“I was curious.” She said meekly. “I sorta knew you were swingers, and you
brought someone home.” She went on to tell me how she had snuck out of her
mother’s house and jogged down here, wearing only a t-shirt and a pair of nylon
shorts with her sneakers. Inside the kitchen, I offered her some coffee.
“Well, what did you see?” I asked her.
“Ummm. Tracy with that redheaded woman.” She said, sipping her coffee.
“Okay…what were they doing?” I asked.
“Eating each other out.” she said quietly.
“Does that bother you?” I asked.
“No. It…it’s sort of sexy…exciting I mean.”
“Have you ever gone to bed with another girl?” I asked her.
“Once, when one of my girlfriends slept over. We messed around a little.”
“Did you like it?”
Lisa’s eyes dialated, “Yes.”
“Are you still a virgin?” Tracy’s voice asked from the edge of the kitchen.
Tracy was wrapped in a robe, leaning against the wall behind Lisa. Lisa
turned around, a little startled.
“No. Not since sixteen.” She said.
“I’ve heard most of what you said.” Tracy started. “Wanna join us?”
Lisa started to look at me, then looked back at Tracy. She seemed to be
unsure of how to answer. Kat appeared from behind Tracy, still stark naked,
and she opened Tracy’s robe, squeezing Tracy’s left breast. Lisa slid off the
stool, and walked over, running her hands over Kat’s back and ass. Kat took
Lisa’s face gently and kissed her lightly, then Tracy did the same. The three
girls moved off to the bedroom. Tracy crooked her finger at me and I nodded,
…End of the part4. To be continued..

Well, a couple of hours passed and it was finally 11
o’clock. She left the dance floor and went in the back
room to change into her street clothes. When she came out
I almost fell off the stool! She was wearing the tightest
jeans that I had ever seen, six inch spiked heels, and
what had to be the skimpiest halter top she could wear
without getting arrested. Her jeans were so tight that the
seam of the crotch was pulled up into her slit forcing her
cunt lips to bulge invitingly on either side of the seam.
My buddy nudged me with his elbow nodding his envious
approval. By now my cock was standing up straight and as
hard as the steel toe in my boot! She came over, smiled
sexily, took me by the arm, and we were on our way. She
said she didn’t mind if my buddies came along which was a
damned good thing since I had the only wheels! Her car was
being repaired and she had taken a taxi to work. We
grabbed a couple of six packs and ice on the way out and
filled the cooler in my van. I asked Greg, one the guys I
was with, to drive while Jen, Paul (my other buddy), and I
got into the back of the van. Jen elected to sit on the
floor so Paul and I sat on the couch (my van was fully
customized). Greg started driving around while Paul and I
talked to Jen about how long she had been dancing and
silly shit like that, trying to get a feel for where her
head was at. The soft red lights that were installed in
the van shined softly on her face highlighting her high
cheekbones and beautiful complexion. She was a good
looking girl and the lights made her look even better. I
slid off the couch and sat next to her. She was sipping a
beer and talking about how nice the van was. When the
conversation lulled she reached into her handbag and
pulled out a baggie with grass and rolling papers in it. I
normally don’t get high and so I kind of sat there not
saying anything. Paul, a real pothead, said “Allright, the
girls got some smoke!” She looked up and smiled at me and
then started rolling a joint. She lit up and took a couple
of deep hits before passing it to me. Not wanting to seem
like an asshole and not really giving a damn about smoking
because I was “ripped” from the beers, I took a couple of
hits and then passed it to Paul. “Good Shit” he said after
taking a couple of hits. Greg hollered for the joint and
we passed it to him and then back and forth until it was
completely gone. Jen rolled another one and we all passed
it back and forth, getting more and more stoned! Now I
don’t know good grass from bad grass, but I know I sure
got fucked up that night! Greg finally parked the van deep
in the woods, in one of our partying spots, and joined us
in the back of the van. We got more comfortable, me
sitting behind Jen with her sitting between my legs. As we
all talked and laughed I reached up under Jens top and
started fondling her tits. Her nipples quickly became hard
and erect. She tilted her head back towards me, smiled,
…End of the part1. To be continued..

3

My prick exploded into Sue Ann’s tight little hole, and she
grabbed both Daddy and me in a death-grip, as I was almost
squashed between them.
For a moment or two, it was almost as though Daddy was
fucking my little sister right through me. Daddy’s prick would
expand in my behind, and as I felt his sperm squirt in me, I
would send a responding squirt into my little sister. Squirt
after squirt. It felt like Daddy’s sperm would go right through
my body, into the base of my prick, and then ripple through the
tube on the bottom until it ended up being deposited in the
little girl’s womb where it belonged.
Daddy was just emptying the last sticky drops into me, and I
was doing the same thing to my little sister, when Momma came in
from the kitchen to tell us all that breakfast was ready.
“My God,” she exclaimed in mock disgust, “Don’t you kids do
anything but fuck?” “What kind of sex-maniacs have I been
raising around here anyway?” she asked, taking in her two oldest
daughters, obviously both freshly screwed, with their father’s
seed still drooling obscenely out of the eldest, and the sticky
mess on the other matching the wilting rubber-covered cock on her
eldest son. To top it, Daddy, Sue Ann and I were still coupled
like three dogs, while Mary Beth was licking the juncture of our
thighs, and a white gob dripping out of her tight little slit
showed she hadn’t been sexually neglected that morning either.
Two little naked kids watched the whole thing, while still
playing with each other’s sex-parts.
First Daddy, then Mary Beth, then the whole room started
giggling, then laughing outright. If anyone was an example of
someone who liked to fuck, then it had to be Momma. After all,
with nine kids by her own son, one by her father, and two
grandchildren, it was pretty obvious how our mother liked to
spend her spare time.
At first, Momma huffed at our response, but finally the
humor of the situation got to her too. “OK,” she giggled, “now
it’s my turn. Joe, get another one of those rubber things, and
get over here and help your mother out. Mike, you go down and
tell your grandpa and little sisters that breakfast will be
ready, as soon as your mother gets HER share of the fun.”
I giggled, but followed Momma’s instructions by pulling out
of my little sister and padding down the hall to the other
bedroom, that Grandpa shared with the two younger girls and the
baby. Daddy patted me on the ass, as he pulled out of me with a
slight pop. “Ooh,” my ass stung a little, but Daddy’s sperm
soothed it a little too. Sometimes I almost wish I was a girl,
so Daddy could squirt up my tummy and get me pregnant like my
sisters could. Oh well.
I heard a yelp of pleasure as I left the room, and knew my
big brother’s cock was sliding into the womb that we all came out
of; filling it in a way that none of the rest of us could match.
Twice now, Joe has split a condom while fucking Momma, and we all
know that someday he’s going to knob her good. If not by
splitting a condom, then when Momma decides she’s gone long
enough without another baby.

4

…End of the part3. To be continued..

I’ll be waiting with “baited breath”, like the cat who ate cheese, and sat by
the mousehole.
_____
/ ‘ /
,-/-, __ __. ____ /_
(_/ / (_(_/|_/ / <_/ <_

P.S. Do you mind if I save this letter, except for your name, and use it
and my response to answer any future flames/criticism? It helps not
to have to do it twice.
P.P.S. I got the scanner, and recovered part-2. Story follows this post.
PLEASE don't get squicked, until you've finished the whole story.
THEN feel free to let me have it with both barrels. ;-}

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

IN> Frank,

IN>1. Using my last letter to respond to other critics, some
IN>probably not as friendly. I re-read the letter, and it is fine, except
IN>for my personal identity, which you should please safeguard totally, and
IN>the first paragraph. The first paragraph is not only irrelevant to the
IN>story, but also is pretty identifiable as written by me. To those who
IN>know me, that may be true of the whole thing, but they would not be able
IN>to prove anything, so go ahead.

I’ll remove the first paragraph, and anything else that points to you.

IN>2. Have not yet had time to go over “BfF I” in the detail I
IN>promised, to send you the minor typos, etc. Hope to do so today,
IN>if not, tomorrow.

I’ll wait on both stories for your criticism.

IN>3. “Bound for Fun II” – the blistering literary criticism! ;=}

IN>Anyway, I liked “BfF II” It certainly
IN>did not squick me. It dealt well with the trust issues, and the whole
IN>fascination with violence and torture as “fun” when in the real world
IN> 1) they actually go on, and
IN> 2) they are __NO fun.

Amen.

IN>Now, the literary hard part for me, is that I must tell you that you
IN>did not pull the wool over the reader’s eyes. This reader, at least.
IN>Jones is clearly too careful of Lynn’s feelings, her peripheral
IN>circulation, etc. etc. for him to actually be planning to kill her
IN>This plot reminds me of the movie “The Sting” I thought that
IN>was a fantastic movie, because it was all about a sting operation, and
IN>audience member thinks he is in on it, but in the end, gets totally
IN>taken in himself, and actually gasps when it appears that one of the good
IN>guys kills the other. Again, at least this viewer.

IN>I do not read a lot of the NC stories, except the Parker works,
IN>and so I am not too good at telling you what a NC perpetrator must “think
IN>like” in a story, but one thing is that he must be totally
IN>uncaring about the victim, except regarding leaving clues.
IN>Clues don’t really have to do with
IN>the victim, just protecting himself, but at least that as close as he gets
IN>to giving a damn about the victim. Jones is way too careful.
IN>He is also clearly too nice a guy. I really don’t know
IN>how to remedy this from the dramatic
IN>viewpoint in the story. That he is careful is okay,
IN> but that he is careful of the girl’s
IN>feelings and comfort is not. I don’t know how to get across his care,
IN>and maybe carefully and intentionally mislead the innocent reader, with
IN>statements
IN>that when read quickly look like the self-centered detail worries of a
IN>schmuck trying to cover the clues, but on rereading after the surprise
IN>ending actually may be interpreted to see that he was looking out for
IN>her all along. A difficult task,
IN>but the only way I can see to get the desired effect and leave it in 1st
IN>person.

The idea was never to pull the wool over the reader’s eyes. The Idea was
to see if you could convince the reader that “Joe” was good enough and
convincing enough to pull the wool over Lynn’s eyes. Since you don’t point
…End of the part3. To be continued..

Maybe that part, I didn’t make clear in the story. June had made VERY
extensive checks on “Jones” before bringing her daughter over. she had
not only checked him out, but had talked to several of his “bottoms”, and
even observed a couple of his “training” sessions, as a helper, and once
she had let him demonstrate on her, though it wasn’t her “bag” so to speak.
By the time the story starts, the two were good friends, and he had been
teaching her things to use on her daughter, as Lynn had fallen for the
whole bondage-thing through reading about it. After a while though, second-
hand, amateur knowledge wasn’t enough, and Lynn had asked to be introduced
to an expert.

LYNN was a trusting soul, and had never been really hurt in her life.
She had NEVER been abused, not even by a school-bully. She thought
EVERYONE was like the people in the stories she read, caring and thinking
about the other person, even when designing tortures for them, so that
in the end, the recipient always loves the “master” for what he/she does.
Lynn, to put it bluntly, was a romantic.

Her mother June, was anything but. She would go to great lengths to
protect her daughter, and had the personality, and ability to do it.
She’s as tough as a marine drill-sergeant, and could lick double her
weight in professional bar-bouncers. She would do anything to give
Lynn what she felt the girl needed, and if it was a professional B&D
experience, or a baby in the belly, she would see to it.

Perhaps there’s another thing I didn’t make clear, though there are
hints all through the story. “Joe” was a “professional” By that,
I mean he did it for a living. He was good, because he had to be.
He had a business, and he advertised, and he relied on repeat business.
June wouldn’t have set this up with anyone else. He did enjoy his
work, but nobody who gets into THAT line of work does so, if they
don’t like it. Joe prided himself on giving the customer EXACTLY
what he/she ordered. If they wanted to be marked for 3 days, Joe
provide welts and abrasions that would be not noticeable by that
dreaded 4-day-from-now meeting. His customers relied on him, and
he supplied. Joe wasn’t the “best” top in the city, but he was the
best “professional” one. All the others who were any good, did it
for personal pleasure, and quite often paid for the privilege, or
had a “stable” of “bottoms” to work with. Word-of-mouth sort of thing.

IN> about the building of trust, the reliance on trust, and the fantastic
IN> feelings of letting go __after you really trust a person (in many
IN> cases literally with your life.) But the trust always comes first, at
IN> least in the success stories. But that’s real life, or as close as
IN> the world of BD gets to real life, so maybe my comments do not apply
IN> here.

As I said, Lynn trusted EVERYBODY. Really TRUSTED them.
NOT a good idea, as the second story points out.

IN> As always, please take my comments as coming from a completely
IN> friendly direction, and not meant as criticisms of your views or
IN> positions, just as my suggestions for possible improvements in the
IN> story.

I do, I DO!

IN> Finally, I have a question to ponder. You and I like this story. Who
IN> else will? Is it silly to consider the “market” for a story which
IN> will eventually be immortalized on the net, and never see any other
IN> form of publication? What I fear is that the pedo interest may be
IN> squicked by the BD content, the BD types may be squicked by the pedo
IN> content, and the consent concerns I blathered on about above, and
IN> surely somebody will be bothered to learn that people’s mothers have
IN> an interest in sex, or have ever participated. Just something to
IN> think about. I suppose we could put it on the net, when you have
IN> edited as much as you want to, and see what kind of reaction it
IN> brings. I would be interested to see.

THAT doesn’t bother me. SOME people out there will like it.
There are LOTS of stories out there that I don’t like, and
I ignore them. I expect others to do likewise, with these two.

IN> I am looking forward to the next story you are trying to recover. I
IN> will reread this one this week, and probably send you a short list of
IN> spelling and other typographical errors that I noticed, which probably
…End of the part2. To be continued..

I sent both stories to the friend for comment, with a gap between them,
as I recovered the second. The enclosed material is excerpts from our
e-mail discussion of the stories. I am publishing this as an addendum
to both stories, to answer some questions (and possible flames) that
might otherwise raise their heads.

IN> Frank,

IN> Thank you very much for the story “Bound for Fun” which I read last
IN> week.

Thank YOU for the nice long response.

IN> Your story sure hits on some of our common and individual favorite
IN> themes. The girl is old enough for my tastes, I hope she is young
IN> enough for yours.

She is.

IN> I loved the allusion to “Preggie Sarah.” That was really choice.
IN> You really have a thing for getting them pregnant, don’t you?

As I’ve said before, getting pregnant is one of my biggest fantasies.
I’d give half of what I own, for the chance.
I know that I’m not the only man to harbor such desires, and
many women love the thought of BEING pregnant.

IN> The promise of a mother/daughter hot combo is also quite
IN> appealing, especially if both of them are kinked in the same
IN> directions as the protagonist, as they seem to be.

They are, but in slightly different ways.

IN> I appreciate the fact that you stayed away from specific descriptions
IN> of the bondage, etc, which you are not an expert in. This is great
IN> by me, since I find stories that start to read like parts catalogs for
IN> fetish wear to be tedious.

I always toss the ones that are nothing more than a description of torture-
devices.

IN> I am certainly no expert in bondage, although I have lurked about
IN> alt.sex.bondage for quite a while, but I think this story has some
IN> real-world problems with consensuality. Please let me note at the
IN> outset that I __know this is just fantasy, and no harm done, etc. etc.
IN> But the aspect of consensuality that primarily concerns me is the
IN> pregnancy one. Is the girl dumb, or am I? Does she know that she has
IN> been knocked up, and approve, or is she being taken along for a ride
IN> by her trusted parent? This could generate a lot of flames in a.s.b.

A. She’s dumb. Well, not DUMB exactly, just WAY too trusting. This is
explored MUCH more deeply in the second story. She trust EVERYONE,
even when she shouldn’t. Most especially, she trusts her mother to watch
out for her best interests, and in her own way June does.
B. Does she know? No.
C. Does she approve? I tried to make the implication, that she actually
WANTS to get pregnant, but is scared to do it, because:
1. She isn’t married, and doesn’t even have a steady boyfriend.
2. She’s afraid of what her school-mates would think, if she showed up
at school with a bulging belly.
3. This is the kicker. Most importantly, she THINKS her mother would
disapprove, and she doesn’t want to hurt her mother. If it wasn’t
for fear of overburdening her mother with raising another child,
Lynn would probably have already sneaked out and gotten pregnant
anyway. Her mother knows this, and implies at the start, that Lynn
would have to “earn” the privilege of getting pregnant.

IN> Also, I think, again with the “this is only fantasy” caveat, that it
IN> would be pretty weird for a loving, caring mother, which this one
IN> seems to be, to leave her kid in the hands of a semi-pro BD
IN> specialist, with only threats of retribution to safeguard her. I
IN> think a bit of talk about her extensive checking of Jones’ background,
…End of the part1. To be continued..