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

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

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

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

“You filled the stockings?”

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

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

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

“What’s that?”

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

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

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

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

She giggled as he dropped crumbs all down his front.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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There were two of them, in deck chairs sunbathing in tiny bikinis, both
were stunning…

I Introduced myself, awareness of their semi-nakedness, breasts pushing
the thin fabric of their swimsuits, made it hard for me to concentrate
on the business.

“I’m Julie.” said the dark one, with a sexy pout and slight lisp in her voice.
“And I’m Vivian..” This was the blonde one, the one with the loose
bikini panties, there was a wisp of blonde bush showing.
I couldn’t help myself and cracked a solid hard-on, their eyes travelled
down to my crotch, they smiled seductively.
“Why don’t we get you a cool drink, and get you out of that silly suit?”
said Vivian. “Come on inside and we’ll fit you out with a swim suit.”
said Julie. All I could do was nod and try tohide the bulge in my
trousers. They walked in front of me and wiggled their asses…
This was going to be a great afternoon…..

….They led me into a large bedroom, the main feature of which
was a huge circular bed covered in black satin and there were
mirrors in the ceiling. By this time my cock was rock hard, the
sight of those two shapely asses gyrating in front of me as they
walked was almost too much.
“Here we are then, if you’d like to get changed there’s a
swimsuit in that drawer..” Said Vivian, but her eyes said
something else.
“We’ll see you on the patio in a couple of minutes then?” Julie
had that look too. They left, still wiggling. I found the
swimsuit in the drawer, and I found a collection of vibrators in
there too, there must have been ten – all different shapes and
sizes. In a couple of minutes I had stripped to my underpants,
and was in the act of pulling them down, when I sensed that I was
being watched. I called out : “Ok, where are you?” I got a giggle
for a reply, then I spotted the video camera, the lens was set
in the eye of a portrait hanging on the wall. I held the
underpants in front of my now semi hard cock. They came into the
room laughing. Vivian gently took the underpants away from me and
without a word knelt in front of me and took my cock into her
mouth, it jumped into full hardness like a spring being released.
Julie began kissing me all the way down my back. I nearly came
there and then, but they both knew exactly what they were doing.
Vivian suddenly swallowed my throbbing joint right down her
throat, if was hot and smooth and rough at the same time, I began
to thrust. Julie had by now reached the cheeks of my ass she
licked me all around my anus. It was heaven, but I knew if they
didn’t stop soon it would be all over, I could feel the hot wet
sensation deep inside my crotch, the come welling up and feeling
as though my balls would burst. Right at that moment they seemed
to know what I was feeling and they stopped, gently pushing me
towards that huge black bed. I laid down.
“Oh no pretty one, it’s your turn to suck and kiss..” Vivian lay
with her legs apart, one hand tickling her extended clit, her
nipples were rock hard. Julie laid on the other side, rubbing her
clit too, her tits were firm and full,almost seeming to defy
gravity, her nipples were bright pink and smaller than Vivian’s.
I had to get my hands and mouth on all four at once. I reched
over and cupped one full tit of vivian’s and at the same time I
clamped my mouth over Julie’s right tit, she moaned as I ran my
tongue around the rigid nipple.
“Here!” said Vivian, spreading her legs wide, I could see the
juice glistening on her wet lips. I kissed her stomach, and
worked my way down to that juicy mound. I reached it and flicked
my tongue all over her clit,it tasted salty and sweet, the sweet
tasted of musk. It was beautiful!
I was on my knees, suddenly I felt Julie’s head slide between my
legs, then her mouth closed over my balls, tongue flicking all
over, along the twitching shaft of my cock and finally closing
over the end…

copyright Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com) 2002

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2

I can never describe the delight I feel when my man enters
me. The need, the itch, if you will, deep inside, is finally
scratched, stroked, but as satisfying as it is, it makes you burn
for more. Each stroke made me crazier; squirming with delight.
Anywhere he touched, my skin burned; the pleasure and desire
spiraling back to where our bodies joined. And when the climax
comes, the satisfaction of having his hardness inside kills the
itch, quenches the need. I feel my body clenching him, pulling
him deep, milking his cock to complete the whole process.
Groaning, calling my name, he collapsed on me, resting his
head on my belly. As though on cue, the baby pushed at his head,
my stomach suddenly distorting before my eyes. “You are some
kind of woman,” he whispered, ignoring the baby.
I smiled; my body finally relaxing. Twisting my hands into
his hair, we lay together; enjoying the way our bodies felt
against one another, the delight of flesh against flesh. The
baby even seemed to quiet down; accepting finally that Mommy had
a life, too. My back even felt good, laying against the hard
table. Closing my eyes; I drifted off to sleep, feeling content.

3

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

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

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

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

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

IN>Frank,

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

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

IN>First , “BfF I”

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

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

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

I already found and corrected that one.

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

OOOPS! You’re right.

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

OOPS again.

IN>And then, “BfF II”

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

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

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

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

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

Right again!. My mind slipped.

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

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

IN>I hope to hear from you soon!

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

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

I saw your second post, just the other day.

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

Thanks.

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

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

“You have no idea how many times I pictured you like this.” He
said.

He leaned over her, kissing her passionately again, her arms
wrapping themselves around his neck then down the tight muscles
of his back.

It was then she felt it, the hard ridge of a scar over his left
shoulder blade. She broke off the kiss suddenly and asked him
quietly. “Is this why you’re home?” in a small, scared voice.
She watched him nod in the half light. She clung to him harder,
realizing how close she was to losing him.

“I promised I’d come home.” He whispered. His eyes looked
suspiciously bright, but it was only a moment before his head
dipped to her breast again, nuzzling their warm curves before
taking it into his mouth. His fingers danced across her skin,
remembering each curve, each dimple. His tongue followed suit
and her hands reached for his shorn scalp. She wiggled beneath
him, until he found her core. She whimpered. It felt so good,
but it had been so long. She pulled on his shoulders, pulling
him up against her length.

“Please just make love to me. I’ve missed you so much…” She
breathed.

He pressed gently but insistently at her center, his arms
supporting his weight over her. He slid smoothly into her.
Slowly he built her up, then stop when he felt her getting to
close. She pulled the pillow over her face, alternating muffled
screams with deep moans. Finally in frustration with his
teasing, she pressed him back, riding him hard, fast until she
screamed unmuffled in climax then fell forward onto his chest.
Sean pulled her into his arms, and pulled the comforter over
them.

“Mommy, are you okay?” Michael came in dragging his blanket. “I
thought I heard you yell.” His eyes opened wide when he saw his
father in bed. He dropped his blanket and launched himself at
Sean.

“DADDY!! I knew you’d be here! I knew you’d be here!” Sean
hugged the little boy close to his chest.

“And how did you know that, Kiddo?”

“Well, you promised that you’d get me a gift from over there.
And well, Santa isn’t here yet, and we haven’t fed the
reindeer…”

“Well, then, I guess we better hurry and put out those oats! We
don’t want Santa to forget whose house this is!” He smiled at
her over his head. “Let me get some clothes on, Mikey, and go
get your coat on.” Michael scampered out of the room.

“I’ll just be a few minutes.” He leaned over and kissed her,
then pulled on his pants and grabbed a coat from the closet. In
the light, she could see the large scar, and she shivered in
fear. How he survived from such a large hit was beyond her, but
she thanked God that he was back with her. Cursed the Army for
not letting her know he was wounded, but knowing Sean, he’d
asked them not to tell her, to spare her worry.

After they came back up, and a potty break, Sean tucked Michael
into bed, reminding him that Santa couldn’t come if he wasn’t
asleep.

“I love you daddy.” He murmured quietly.

“I love you too.” He whispered over him and he kissed Michael’s
cheek.

Once he was out, Sean went into their bedroom, and pulled the
Christmas presents out of the closet.
…End of the part2. To be continued..

Later-
Damn! Today is rally my day. I think Chris caught my cold, but
either way he is sick, so I can’t talk to him. I hope he’ll be
okay cuz I know I hate being sick. Sunday is supposed to be
rainy so we probably can’t go to the cliffs even if he was okay.
If he goes to work tomorrow I’ll ask. The only bad thing is
that I can’t warn him that Linc knows. Life is a Bitch! If he
calls back I’ll write more, if not, well bye

Chris didn’t call, but I remembered something I wanted to write,
Mom told me something about Arlene. Arlene was married to John
it seems and they had gotten divorced. After a period of time,
john came back and Arlene took him. They’ve been living together
since (3 years) every year he leaves her though. Sounds like a
soap opera, huh? Well. Later.
Dear Diary, 10/22/88
Life sucks!
Chris didn’t come to work today. Lianne told me this poem that I
like
I may not always tell you
Exactly how I feel; but the love I have for you
Will always be real.
You mean so much to me-
More than you will know;
And I will always love you
Wherever you may go
So when your days are really rough
And you don’t know what to do
Remember these words I am saying now
I will always care for you.
I’m upset (right) I’m miserable and I’m depressed . Help! I miss
Chris, I’m sorry he’s sick, I’m bored (naw, me, bored? must have
me mixed up with someone else.) I’m miserable because I know
Chris doesn’t care for me the way I care for him, and I’m afraid
he’ll get tired of me and break up with me. I’m afraid I’ll fail
my classes, that I’ll fail at everything (including life)
It hurts me that mike doesn’t care as much as I do, I mean it
hurts a lot.
You know what diary? My life sucks.
I nearly lost my job today. Chris was sick, I’m not doing
anything this weekend. This morning I weighed myself…89 pounds!
I lost 5 lbs, gross! I weighed myself again around 4…92! I’ve
…End of the part2. 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..

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