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I walked into the house, down a hallway and into the living room.
I grabbed the remote control and clicked on the television and looked
at the news. It wasn’t good. It never is.

I was at “my” end of the couch, to the right, still wearing faded jeans
and a blue dress shirt. I’d already kicked off my loafers so I was also
in sock feet. Cathie tumbled onto “her” end of the couch. This night
she was wearing black slacks and a silky red blouse with ruffles over
her large breasts. I’m not a fanatic about breasts but the red and the
ruffles accentuated Cathie’s tits and I watched them bobbing out of the
corner of my eye.

“I have to tell you this fantasy,” she said. I looked over at her.
Cathie has a perfect, smooth, white complexion, and a valentine-shaped
face highlighted by large, dark brown eyes and thick, sensual lips.
At this time, her pitch black hair was cut in a straight pageboy cut
that framed her face, kind of like representations of Cleopatra.

Before I met her, I’d always been attracted to short, thin women.
Cathie was nearly as tall as I am, five foot eight or so, and voluptuous.
She had large breasts and wide, wide hips. Just goes to show, I guess,
we fuck with our minds, not our bodies. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have given
Cathie a second glance.

“Sometimes when you’re away on a trip,” she said, “I get horny, laying in
bed at night. Now and then I wonder what it would be like if you didn’t
come back, if you dumped me for someone else.”

Dutifully, I said, “That’ll never happen, Cath.”

“I know,” she answered. “Still, I fantasize about having this party.
I’m single again and I invite everyone, all my friends and even people I
meet in the bar. I’m not with anyone, I’m just the hostess. I wear that
short, black cocktail dress you bought for me, with the hem way up above
my knees and the low cut top, bare feet and no bra or pantyhose. All I
have on is the cocktail dress and my white, silk panties underneath.”

“Very sexy, the black and the white together,” I commented.

“Well, I need new man in my life, don’t I?” she asked. “You’ve left me
all alone.”

“Right,” I said.

“We have the stereo blasting away and we’re dancing and drinking, telling
jokes, having a great time. Probably because you’re not there,” she said.

“Uh huh,” I grunted.

“During the party, I notice a guy named Mack who got invited at the bar.
I don’t know him but he asks me to dance a lot and I can tell he likes me.
He has two friends with him, Tony and Steve. They ask me to dance too and
I have a great time, probably because I’m too drunk to think about you.”

“Could we cut the disparaging, editorial comments about me?” I asked.
“After all, I haven’t left you and I have no intention of leaving you.”

“OK,” she agreed. “I was just trying to tell you what I feel in my
fantasy, to make it complete. Mack is good looking. He’s wearing
jeans and a jean jacket, he’s about medium build and he has straight,
brown hair down to his shoulders, with bangs. He’s a very intense guy.
Tony is Italian or Greek or something. He’s not very tall and he’s
thick through the body. Not fat, just heavy. Steve is the Nordic type,
with short blonde hair and blue eyes. He’s kind of tall and thin.”

Cathie said, “All of them are perfect gentleman during the party, even
though I’m teasing them, playing one off against the other. Anyway,
about two in the morning, most of the guests have gone. The last ones,
except Mack and his friends, leave about two thirty.”

I moved over to Cathie’s side of the couch, ignoring the television in
…End of the part1. To be continued..

“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.

Well, babe, you said to write back quickly, so here it is.
Wow, you don’t mess around, do you? 16 pictures! (Actually, I
hope you DO mess around. And I want to do it with you!) We could
argue over who has the better body, but why waste the time? Lori,
I’m going crazy over yours. Your tits are just the right size for
me, and your nipples look delicious. Now I’m looking at your ass
and wishing my lips were planting soft kisses all over your
cheeks. Do you like to have your ass kissed? Your first photo
hinted at the cuteness of your face, but it certainly didn’t do
you any justice. And I REALLY like the photos of you oiled up,
too. You look so sexy that way. Wouldn’t it be fun to get oiled
up together and make beautiful love? Oh what I’d give to rub my
body against yours!
I know what you mean about typing with one finger. That’s how
I typed the first letter I sent you. I think I write sexier that
way. Luckily, I have a computer, so I can go back and correct the
mistakes. But don’t worry about yours. The mistakes show me how
excited you are. And I want you to be excited. Today I’m wearing
my Joni’s Butterfly, so I can use both hands. But I can tell
already that I won’t be able to make it through all of this
without an orgasm break.

Yesterday was such a bummer for me. I found your anxiously-
awaited letter in my mailbox, but my husband and kids were around
all day. I wanted so much to spend time poring over your letters
and photos. And I had such a need to write to you. I was
constantly aware of the wetness between my legs. Finally, when
the kids were down for their nap, I told my husband I was going
to take one, too. He winked and offered to help, but I begged off
with fatigue. Then I locked myself in the bedroom and spent an
hour and a half masturbating over you. Lori, you’ve really
excited me! And don’t worry about my husband. You primed me
pretty well for some rousing fun with him last night.

I wish I could have been a fly on the wall to watch you bring
yourself to orgasm. It’s nice to know someone else who admits she
appreciates masturbation as much as I do. You know how secretive
girls are about that. Even some of the bi girls I’ve known
wouldn’t admit they masturbated. I’ll never figure that one out.
You’d think that would be an easier taboo to overcome than
bisexuality. My college roommate and I use to sit in chairs
facing each other while we masturbated and talked dirty to each
other. That was always exciting to me. I like to watch my lovers
masturbate, and I was even fortunate enough to see a couple of
girls do it when they didn’t know I was watching. Anyway, we’ll
have to compare notes.
I loved the story about you and Karen. It’s fun to imagine it
happening. And it’s fun to picture what you must have looked like
at 15. Probably because of my background, teenaged girls will
always turn me on. But enough of that. You were curious about my
first time.

My first experience with sex of ANY kind was at fourteen. My
sister was sixteen, and she’d just returned from her first date.
(I think we started dating a lot later than you, Lori.) I’d been
curious about cocks for a couple of years, and I’d certainly felt
the empty, tingling feeling between my legs. But other than
squeezing my thighs together, I did nothing and knew nothing. And
I’d been envious of Kathy’s big breasts for quite awhile, too.
(Mine were just little buds.) But I can’t say I had any sexual
feelings for her or her breasts.
At any rate, I’d lain awake waiting for her return because her
first date was exciting for both of us. Under the covers and in
the dark, she whispered all the little details. Unbeknownst to
me, however, she was playing with her pussy while telling me her
exciting story. All of a sudden, in the midst of the petting
“struggle” at the park, she stopped and was lost in her first
orgasm. I had no idea what was going on and was afraid that
something terrible was happening to her. She kept me from getting
Mom for help (Wouldn’t that have been something!?), then told me
all about what had happened, how good it felt and what caused it.
I tried. It felt nice enough, but it certainly wasn’t a big
thing for me.
Kathy came over to my bed to show me how. I still remember
every single second of that night, Lori, and the emotions each
…End of the part1. To be continued..

copyright Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com) 2002

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..

2

I rolled on top of my little sister, and started fucking the
little girl in time with my big brother’s strokes into our older
sister. Betty Jean must have been right at the “dangerous” time
of month, because I could see the slick rubber covering of a
condom over Joe’s enormous member.
Working at the factory, Joe is the only one of us who can
afford rubbers; so he’s the only one who fucks the girls when
it’s not “safe.” My sisters are usually so horny they don’t even
mind Joe’s big schlong, when it gets that time of month, so by
wearing a rubber, my big brother gets a lot more tail that way.
Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to the girls, if they had to watch
everyone else get laid, and miss out just because they might get
a big belly. So Momma and Daddy let Joe fuck the girls even when
it’s the right time of month, and even though that monster-prick
of his has split more than one condom wide-open. Still, as I’ve
said, we’ve only had one “unplanned” pregnancy in our family, so
it seems to work out pretty good.
After a while, my concentration was about to center on the
little sister I was screwing, when I felt MY legs being spread.
It seems that Daddy had gotten all excited seeing his kids
fucking, and wanted a little more. Joany is still too small for
even Daddy yet, so he was going to use me. I didn’t mind. Heck,
sometimes I even had Joe stick his monster up my behind. Daddy
is small by comparison.
Thankfully, Daddy’s prick was still slick from the sperm he
had squirted in Lisa Marie, so with only a little pressure it
slipped up inside me with a popping sensation. Oh GOD, did that
feel good. To feel a prick sliding in and out of your ass, while
your little sister’s tight little cunny milks on your swollen
peter is a thrill that every kid should have. Especially, if
that prick sliding up your ass belongs to your own father. I
knew it wouldn’t take long with stimulation like this before I
filled my little sister’s womb with my white goo.
Sue Ann was right with me, as she felt Daddy pushing me into
her with each stroke. I knew that my tight little butt squeezing
on Daddy’s prick would get him off too.
Only it wasn’t any one of the three of us that came first.
Betty Jean suddenly started wailing, and Joe started bellowing
like a bull, as we all knew our big brother was filling the
condom inside Betty Jean with gob after gob of white sticky
…End of the part2. 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..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Praise the Saints!

It didn’t take Aline long to show up.

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

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

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

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

“You knew?” I was astonished.

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

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did he hurt you?” he whispered.

“No more than should be expected.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ian, Annsachd, please….”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Copyright Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com) 2003

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

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

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

Annsachd is Scot’s Gaelic for “beloved”.

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

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

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

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

He also explained about Prima Nocte.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Evie,” the midwife called to me.

“Yes, ma’am?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’d never been happier.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am here, M’lord.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

We have huge pine trees in our backyard. We’d been talking for years of getting rid of them. They’d drop needles all over our yard, as well as the yards of our neighbors. We couldn’t cut them down ourselves; they were too large, and with our luck we’d hit our house, or worse the house of a neighbor.

So we did what all suburbanites do, and called a tree service. My husband was at work, and my mother took the children so they wouldn’t be in the way and get hurt. I let them in early in the morning. The crew drove the heavy trucks into the backyard. They had one truck with a chipper on it, and one truck that held the cherry picker that raised them up high to top off the tree.

The crew included 4 men. They were all young, in their twenties, and very muscular, as you’d expect them to be. The crew chief was in his late 20’s, with short dark hair, and dark eyes. His smile was infectious, and soon, he had me feeling at ease.

I watched for a while, while things were explained to me by the various workers, answering my curiousity. It started to get warmer out, so I brought them out some drinks, to much applauded thanks. Since there were 4 good sized trees, I had been told they would be there the day. As the sun grew higher, Mike, I found the crew chief was named, called lunch break. The cherry picker came down in a loud hiss of hydraulics, and he hopped out and smiled at me. I offered my kitchen to the guys, knowing it wasn’t often they were able to get out of the sun and heat, which they all gratefully accepted. I looked at the cherry picker, knowing of my fear of heights, but also intrigued with the machine. I had surruptiously been watching Mike as he wielded his chainsaw high overhead, and had been getting warmer and warmer; a warmth that had nothing to do with the sun.

Mike was still outside, getting things together. I strode up to him, smiling sweetly. He smiled back, “What’s up?”

“Well…..I was wondering if you’d help me.” I smiled. I was still feeling my way through this half-hatched plan. It was wild, fantasy material, a bit of my former self that had been buried since my marriage.

“sure, what do you need?”

“Well, see, I’m afraid of heights. And I was wondering if maybe you could take me up in the picker. I know you can do it from the basket.” I smiled, hopefully sounding innocent, yet giving a hint of what I was thinking.
He looked at me quizzically, as if he wasn’t sure he was reading me right. My smile brightened as I saw he was reading me between the lines.
“Oh, sure, I think we can do that…You’d get a great view of the neighborhood.”

We walked over to the basket, where he lifted me over the side and deposited me in as if I were a feather, and I shivered at his touch. He climbed over the edge as well, and reached behind me, in the close confines, leaning into me, to grasp the belt there. “for safety,” he replied, winking at my quickened breath. He attached his and I found I had quite a free range of movement with it, which afterwards I thought should have been painfully obvious, considering what they needed to do in the basket.

He pressed the button, and I felt the hydraulics jerk as we began our ascent. He studiously looked the other way, looking out over the horizon. I was beginning to be unsure of what I was doing. After all, maybe he was just being nice…and he wasn’t aware of my limited seduction. I started to bemoan my lack of practice. Then, we were at the full height, and indeed, you could get a fantastic view of the whole neighborhood. He came to my side, his breath fluttering my hair as he pointed out various features of the land. I felt his hand on my shoulder, and looked at him.
“feeling adventurous?” I smiled as I slid down before him.

His eyes widened as he began to understand me. “discretion, right?” Well, I had to ask, after all, I am married. He nodded mutely, dumbstruck. The sides of the basket now hid me from view, and anyone looking up would assume he was by himself. I smiled up from my kneeling position, seeing only him and the blue sky above. I reached for his belt, and his hands settled over mine, helping me. I could feel his hardness pressing against his work pants, so I reached my hand in to keep the zipper away as I tugged it down. I looked up when I heard his soft moan. I smiled, as I dragged his pants and boxers (gotta love a man in boxers) to his knees.

His cock sprang out before me. I looked at it, smiling dreamily. Its one eye couldn’t seem to focus on me, as it kept bouncing around trying to get a better look. Its head was purple, flat and wide, silently begging for my attention.

So I gave it. No pretense, no complications. I took the head into my mouth quickly, my tongue flicking at the eye. I sighed softly, missing that which my husband long ago had decided was unnecessary. I slid my mouth lower, wondering if I was still as able. I bounced up and down on it a few times, but did finally manage to deep-throat his 6 inches, moaning deeply when his cock jerked in my throat. I looked up to see him holding either side of the basket, his eyes closed as if in deep concentration.

I began to swallow. Long hard swallows that squeezed his head in my throat. I smiled against his cock as I heard him moan rather loudly. I slid back up to his head and then off, blowing lightly at his tip and watching it jerk in response.

“Wow, where did you learn that!?” He shuddered in amazement, “Your husband is one fucking lucky guy!”

I snorted in derision, “he’s been turning my blowjobs down for years…why do you think I’m up here?” I smiled, the dove my head lower, and sucked one of his balls into my mouth. I savoured the tightness of his skin, the taste of his sweat. He began to buck against my face, his cock sliding against it, as I sucked his balls. I looked and could see his knuckles getting white from the strength he was exerting. I took pity on him, and frankly myself, and latched back onto his hard, heated cock. My tongue swirled in mysterious patterns along the underside, my lips tightly over his head, as I began to truly suck. The suction was so great, I felt his balls tighten further, and my hand went down to squeeze them lightly. My other hand, wrapped around behind him, as I squeezed his ass.

I smiled as I felt his hands stroke my sun heated hair. I felt his confusion, trying to decide whether to pull me closer, or push me away. I took the choice from him, sliding back down to his base, continuing to suck and heard his gutteral moan. I took his hands from my head, and placed them on either side of my face, offering silently. He took my offer, beginning to quickly fuck my mouth, I moaned, feeling him shudder at the vibration. I got hotter and hotter, knowing he was close, knowing how close we were to others. He started to buck into my mouth, his smooth gait suddenly breaking down as he neared completion. I let my teeth gently graze and catch the underside of his head, my lips closing tightly as he exploded into my mouth, groaning loudly. I swallowed greedily, drinking as shot after shot of his salty sweet cum poured into my mouth. I slid back down to his base, sucking him cleanly off, absorbing the last spasms of his orgasm, before releasing his cock, and standing up.

It was at that moment the other workmen came out. They hollered up to me in their jovial way, “How’d you like the view?”

I grinned back, winking at Mike, “oh, its spectacular!”

Copyright Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com) 2001

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 other enjoy (or
not *shrug *).
**************************************************************
Dating Diary 1988 part 3
By Dryad

Dear Diary, 12/5/88
Mom called my doctor, and he wants me to go to a gynecologist.
My luck-there’s no female gynecologists!
Players is starting a Christmas game. Its called Secret Santa.
For the week of the 12-16th you give the person a present each
day-you receive one too, from a different person. After school
Friday, there’s a meeting. Each person who was in it guesses who
his/her secret santa is-if you’re wrong, you make an idiot of
yourself; but nothing happens if you are right.
So far only 3 people have signed up for it. I figure this out
to help narrow it down a little (yes, I joined into doing it!)

Dear Diary, 12/13/88
I’m sorry I’ve neglected you but, well, you know how it is.
Today has been a day of ups and downs. First, I know I failed my
English test (vocab and myth) and I got an 88 on my Grammar
test! Then in chemistry, the teacher only gave us the problem
part of the test, which was a snap. Then I got a warning in
Algebra. I didn’t even get my gift from secret santa (yesterday
I got a little thing of lip gloss-children’s lipgloss!) I’ll get
back to that later.
On the bus on the way home, Jason smacked me on the forehead
once and hide in the seat so I didn’t see him, then he’d do it
again. I always believed 3 strikes and your out, so I got up out
of my seat; He turned around and went to go in the back and I
grabbed a handful of hair and pulled back-hard. We got into a
scuffle which I got the better of. That was pretty cowardly-
hitting from the back then hitting a girl? Most ungentlemanly
like. That could be taken as a good or a bad. I now reinforced
that I’m not to be reckoned with and made Jason look like a
fool, so he’ll probably want revenge. Mom found out and said I
should have told the bus driver-I was in the second seat, and
the bus driver saw!
I told mom he started it, he did it more than once, and I got
sick of it, and I’d be damned if he was gonna hit me again! So
much for my fight, he doesn’t deserve the ink I’m writing with.
I am being mean to Sandra, my secret santa person. I created a
riddle to help her guess who I am. Monday I gave her a candy
cane wreath. Today I gave her a pin that said “of course God
made man first–As a rough draft!” She thinks women are superior
to men. I’ve gotta go now, its past my bedtime.

Dear Diary, 12/25/88
Its Christmas! I have gotten a color TV (!) a skirt from Sasha,
3 pairs of socks from Lianne, powder and a Sachet from Chan, I
got perfume, a mini piano, bubble bath from my secret Santa (who
turned out to be Lindsey) sheets and a unicorn blanket from Mr.
and Mrs. Castle, a book about winter gardening and a sachet
holder from Kim and Al. A shirt and a purse from Aunt Edith and
Uncle Maurice. Perfume and pantyhose from Grandma. The last 3
books to Anne of Green Gables from mom and dad. A scientific
calculator and a Reba tape from Katie; more socks, 3 essential
oils (strawberry, violet and rose) a Bellamy Bros. Tape (which I
already had) Peanuts, Macadamia nuts a whole set of different
colored pens. My TV is really great. It has push buttons and is
a 13″. This is just this morning, though we still have this
afternoon. Katie got a synthesizer for her big xmas present.
Actually, its pretty neat-it plays things like fireworks,
popcorn, iceblocks.

Dear Diary, 12/29/88
Its Thursday. The week is going by so fast-I am starting to
write a new book-between Rainbow Valley and Rilla of Ingleside.
I am trying something new; I write a chapter, correct it until I
feel it’s perfect, then go on to the next chapter. I got a raise
in work. I bought Reba’s new tape-sounds pretty good. Paid mom
back and put the money in the bank.-my next check I pay mom for
the tape put half in the bank, school clothes and “Further
Chronicles of Avonlea”. I got that stupid rash back (Yuck!)
I talked with Josh today at the music store. He introduced me
to his father. (saying about Aunt Laura, since his mom went to
school with her-which reminds me, I still have to send a thank
you letter…oh shoot!)
I now have $936 (or something to that extent) in the bank. Or
was it $948? I don’t know and I’m too lazy to look it up! “Rilla
of Ingleside” was soooooo extremely pathetic! Walter gets killed
in the First WW. Jem comes back with a limp, Carl (Meredith)
lost an eye. Rill at first was a spoiled brat, but then she
“adopts a war baby”. The mother had died and she became a much
better person for it. (let me tell you!) Diary, its too bad you
can’t read, this is like the best book I have ever read (and I
have read more books than anyone could imagine!) All my plants
are dying-yes, I’m a murderess-I never could keep a plant alive
in my room-except that stupid cactus which always comes back! I
really must go to bed now!

To be Continued
in
Dating Diaries, 1989

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..

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