Sex Show Stories

Chapter 8 Endings and Beginnings (part I)

In early November the weather turned cold and raw. Everyday, the sky was the color of lead. Paul’s cabin was closed for the winter. The leaves were off the trees. It was that in-between season between Fall and Winter. There were a few flakes of snow in the air, but nothing yet on the ground. Conversation split around two topics: would Michigan beat Ohio State and earn a trip to the Rose Bowl; was it going to be a tough winter and how much would it cost to heat the house. All-in-all, it meant that life was about normal. To Paul, it meant getting some work done. There were new items on his plate. A trip to Latin America was not far off. The EU was promoting some new environmental standards. His area was understaffed and a recruiting program was under way. He also promised to recruit a local football prospect for his alma mater. Paul was busy and that’s the way he liked it.

A favorite project of his was coming to a close that evening. It was bittersweet, because of all his works-in-process, this one meant the most to him. It was more important than the Peoria project, or the related lawsuit. It took priority over Glenda’s job. It was a labor of love, so to speak. At the outset, all had seemed bleak. Careful, well-thought-out steps had changed that around. He was proud of his part in it, but he was really only an auxiliary to the main player. His secondary role didn’t detract from the happiness of the event.

He took the occasion to try the new Italian restaurant in town. It was not so new anymore—only to Paul. He sat at his table sipping a glass of Chianti reminiscing how he and Sally would always try the new restaurants in town. It was one of their hobbies, like swimming nude on a summer’s morning at their cabin on the Peninsula. Sally and Paul always liked to share pleasures. It polished the apple, and that somehow made it taste better. There was the pleasure of giving and the duty to receive, and the way they compounded. Glenda was a lot like Sally in that way. It was a memory of the past, but Paul realized that some men go through life without ever experiencing it at all.

Paul forced himself to focus on the subject of the evening. He wondered why his mind had strayed to days gone by. He had never been a ‘remember-when’ kind of guy. It was a sign of growing old. That was sad, because his body still felt fit. His mind did, too, but his prospects for future youthful activity were poor. Still, he couldn’t help reminding himself that there were some good old days. He had to snap back to attention because his guest for the evening was approaching his table.

“Audrey, it’s so nice to see you!” Paul exclaimed as he stood.

Paul had not seen Audrey since that day in the hospital several months ago. They had spoken often by telephone. Audrey sent Paul her resume’ and he had circulated it for her. She traveled from Springfield to Michigan to discuss her prospects with him. Paul observed that Audrey’s looks had returned to normal after the beating inflicted on her by Craig Morehead. He was interested to find the status of her internal scars, too. He would let that wait, because he knew that his protég was eager to tell him about her future plans. That was a good sign in itself, in Paul’s opinion.

“I can’t believe that you drove all the way here!” he continued.

“It wasn’t too bad.” she answered.

“It was eight hours!” he retorted.

“I guess that I was a little eager.” She admitted, chuckling.

Paul reached out his hand and Audrey took it. Paul clasped it lightly. Audrey was not frail, but Paul never put the iron vise on ladies. He saved it for men. Audrey’s face flashed a look of expectation, and quickly of disappointment. She hadn’t meant to display it, but Paul saw it. He interpreted it immediately. Audrey had expected a hug from her mentor, not the handshake.

Paul was sorry that he hurt Audrey’s feelings, but her obvious expectation told him that he was right to have taken the step that he had. Audrey had never tried to hide her desire for him. It started the day that they met together in his office over the phony drawings that she had wrested from Craig Morehead. Paul had difficulty understanding Audrey’s attraction to him. On their first meeting she had declined to take a chair out of deference to his age. From that beginning, she had come to look upon him as a thirty-year-old. Paul had no such illusions.

A waiter arrived at their table to take orders for drinks. Paul already had a glass of wine, and he stayed with that.

“I’ve never had Chianti.” Audrey admitted. “I don’t know much about Italian cuisine at all. Marge Bates and I ate here together, but all I had was Spaghetti and Chablis.”

“Let’s get a bottle, then, and we’ll share it!” Paul said. “I’ll help you order dinner, too. I love Italian food. I hope that you’re hungry.”

“It sounds wonderful!” she said. “I’d like to try something new.”

Paul had no illusions, either, about his feelings for Audrey. He admired her courage and honesty. She was intelligent and sincere. Her smiling face reminded him of a flower opening in Spring. He had been close to giving in a few times. The idea was so tempting. It would be an easy jump from dinner table to her hotel room. Paul would not allow it. His feelings went deeper than fondness. At times he felt himself a father to her, or maybe a close uncle. At other times he was her mentor. In between, he heard a voice that urged him to become her lover.

“Tell me about you job prospects!” he demanded. Paul already knew that she had an offer from the State of West Virginia for a similar position that she had with the State of Illinois. Paul had sent her resume to that State’s Commissioner. They were old friends from their college football days.

“There are two positions that I have offers for right now.” Audrey answered. “There are two others that I think will turn into offers if I wait long enough. I’ve already given my resignation to Larry Wilton. I’ve been sitting there with nothing to do lately, anyway.”

Paul nodded approval.

“You’ve done quite well for yourself.” he said.

“Every time I went to an interview I would hear ‘Paul Crane said this.Paul Crane said that’. I owe you a lot of the credit.” she told him.

“After what you did, Audrey, you deserved a little push.” he told her. “Even if there had been no ‘Morehead’ episode, you still gave up a lot to do the right thing. That deserves some consideration.”

The ‘Morehead episode’ was their code word for her brutal rape. The euphemism allowed them to avoid the harsh words without running away from the reality of it. He was always testing her in little ways to see if she was still forging ahead, despite the trauma. To Paul, it seemed like she was.

“Well, tell me about them.” Paul got back to the point.

“I have an offer from the Environmental Commission of the State of West Virginia.” she began. “It’s more or less the same position as the one that I’m leaving. It’s a nice offer because of the positive work environment. It’s smaller than the office in Illinois, so maybe it will be less bureaucratic. By the way, Mr. Campbell told me he played football with you at State! I didn’t know that you played football in college.”

“Ancient history!” Paul declared. “Let’s get back to you.”

“There is a consulting firm that will probably make me an offer.” She continued. “It sounds interesting.”

Paul nodded his head, a sign to continue.

“I have an offer to enter a doctoral program at the University of Minnesota. There is a Graduate Assistant position that goes with it that would pay my way. It would be a lot less money than I’ve been used to, but I could manage it. I might be able to pick up some other work along the way. The professor told me that you wrote him a nice recommendation letter.”

“The final possibility would be a job with a state agency in the South. They’re having trouble getting the position funded, so that would be a long shot.” she concluded.

By that time their entrees were in front of them. Paul ordered the veal for both of them. It was a good choice.

“If you want to go into consulting, I would suggest getting your PhD first.” Paul advised. “With it, you would have a better expectation of a partnership. With a Masters you may be thought of as a journeyman.”

“.or a journeywoman.” Audrey corrected with a smile.

“Then it boils down to working in West Virginia, or studying in Minnesota.” Paul ignored her interjection. “It really depends upon your goals. You’re still young. You have a long career in front of you.”

“I think that you’re telling me to go for the PhD.” Audrey said.

“I think that is what you’re telling yourself.” Paul answered. “I think that you should listen.”

Audrey beamed a broad smile. “I knew you would say that! I was hoping that you would. I think that I will.”

Paul flashed a smile back to her.

“Don’t be afraid of the challenge. You can do it. Look at what you’ve handled already.”

Audrey didn’t answer, so Paul pressed her.

“How are your counseling sessions going?” he asked.

“The counselor said that I was doing alright—that I didn’t have to come back. She said that I could call her if I needed her, but I haven’t.”

“Any bad dreams—any flashbacks?” Paul asked.

Audrey shook her head ‘no’.

“I was actually out cold when he did it.” she reminded him. “Maybe I was lucky that way. I remember fighting him. I thought that I could fight him off up until everything went black. I’ll always know that I never gave in. That helps a little.”

“I think that you’re going to be fine. Just remember that you have friends that you can lean on if you have to.” Paul assured her.

As they were finishing their entrees Audrey grew quiet.

“You look like you have something else on your mind.” Paul told her.

“I do!” she declared. “It’s hard to come right out with it, but this is the last time alone we may ever have together.”

Paul raised his eyebrows in anticipation. “I’m ready to listen.”

“It’s just this.” Audrey’s lower lip trembled a bit. “I want very much to have a relationship with you. I want it to be more than just being what we are now. I want to have it tonight.”

Paul had anticipated her plea, but he didn’t expect her to make it so directly. He should have, he told himself. Her courage was one of her traits that he admired so much.

“Audrey,” he answered, “you know that once would never be enough, at least for me.”

“That would suit me fine.” she declared.

“Would it?” Paul asked. “Maybe it would for a while. Of course you have plans to go to Minnesota, and my life is here. It would be a long-range relationship.”

Paul looked at her and she shrugged her shoulders. He knew that she was undeterred.

“You are twenty-eight—just starting out. I’m fifty-four. In ten years you will be at your peak. I will be sixty-four—definitely past mine. In twenty years you will be forty-eight—still a beautiful and vibrant woman. I’ll be seventy-four.”

“I’ve already thought of that.” she said. Tears were forming in her eyes.

“It’s a selfish thing for me, really.” Paul went on. “One day you would realize that you had made a mistake and that you should have found a younger man. But, I know you; you would never leave me, or even let me know that you wanted to. You would stick it out without saying a word. I would know it—I know it now—and that is the part that I couldn’t stand. I’m so sorry, Audrey. I’m asking you to do this for me.”

She sat sobbing, trying not to make a scene in the restaurant.

“That doesn’t mean that I would ever not want to be your friend.” Paul said. “It means a lot to me. I hope that we can continue as we are.”

Audrey didn’t look up. She had stopped crying. She nodded her head.

“You should know that it was a close call for me. If I cared for you less than I do, the answer would have been different.” Paul had told her the honest truth.

Marge Bates was busy setting the table in the dining room of her home. It was four-thirty on a Sunday afternoon. She was getting the chore out of the way because she still had a lot of things to do. It had been a long time since she used the good silver and china. It was a pleasure. She got the Waterford out, too. She held nothing back. She finished setting the two places; put the serving pieces on the side and the white candles in the brass holders. She opened the wine to breathe—a hearty burgundy. It would compliment the pot roast that she had roasting in the oven. She checked on it, and finding it progressing as planned, made her way upstairs to get ready.

She finished brushing her teeth and stepped into the shower. The hot water felt good on this crisp November day. It cascaded over her head and shoulders. It was so relaxing. She let the spray pound the muscles in her back and took the soap and let it glide over her. First she washed her arms, then her chest and shoulders. She took some soap in her hands and rubbed it on her face and neck. She took a washcloth and did her legs. Soon she had her head full of shampoo. She took some of the lather into her hands. She couldn’t help herself. She massaged it into her breasts, softly, gently lifting and cupping them. She let her thumbs stroke over the nipples. She imagined a man doing it. It could have been Carl, her late husband, or her recent lover, Paul Crane. Then her thoughts turned to a man who had never touched them, Walter Hartley. She scooped more shampoo from her hair and let her hands rub the lather into her lower triangle of hair. She pressed firmly, but lightly, and then let her fingers slip lower. She pressed her hips back to deepen the contact. In her mind it was Walter down there, working his magic, whatever he might possess.

She roused herself from her daydream and rinsed the shampoo from her hair and all around. She decided that it was her favorite brand of shampoo. It was time to select her wardrobe. It was important to choose just the right thing to wear.

“I need something with warm, inviting colors.” she instructed herself. “I need a top that lets him know that I have a nice set, but not too obviously. He’ll have to make a move if he wants to get to see them. Nothing’s for free in this world.”

She searched through her closet. She found just the right skirt. It was a pleated, burgundy-camel plaid. She matched it with a camel-colored short-sleeved sweater of merino wool that fit snugly over her torso, and finished it with a string of white pearls. The rich fabric gave a soft look, to contrast with her large breasts pushing out from it. A dab of perfume behind her ears and knees, a comb-out of the hair and she was ready.

It was an outfit that was comfortable and friendly. It would make a man feel at home, and invite him at the same time. In a younger world, she might appear matronly, perhaps frumpy. For a pair of fifty-somethings it was just right. Marge knew what she was doing. The presentation must be demure, lest it alarm the quarry. It must match her personality—avoid looking contrived. He would feel at ease in pursuing her. She would appear to be far from captured, so he would venture a swifter chase. With his reserve abandoned, she would turn suddenly to spring the sweet trap.

The hour was approaching six. Marge picked out some music. She was careful to make the right selections. She wanted nothing too peppy, better to be relaxing. A Mangione recording fit the bill nicely. She backed it up with an MJQ and one from Sinatra. She was thinking about another when she heard a car door slam outside in her driveway.

It was Walter, right on time. Marge noticed that he took pains to approach her front door more slowly than he had to. He wore that wary expression of a soldier entering enemy territory. He was armed as he ventured into ‘No Man’s Land’. He bore a bouquet of flowers in one hand. In the other was a paper bag, shaped in the obvious form of a wine bottle. His coat was open. He was wearing grey flannel slacks, and a navy, wool vest with a plaid shirt underneath. He finally reached her door. From her view at the window Marge noted that he was as predictable as she had predicted that he would be.

“Come right in, Walter!” Marge didn’t wait for him to knock. “I heard your car in the driveway.”

Walter entered and Marge seized his coat and hung it in the hallway closet. He thrust the flowers at her.

“How nice!” she exclaimed. “I’ll arrange them for a centerpiece.”

He thrust the wine at her with the other hand. It was a bottle of California Chardonnay, still chilled.

“I didn’t know what you were having tonight, so I brought this along.” he mumbled, needlessly defensive.

“How wonderful!” cried Marge. “We’ll have some now. I already opened some red wine for the dinner table.”

Walter followed her into the kitchen. He raised his head slightly to take in the aroma.

“Something smells good in here.” he said.

“It’s pot roast—my specialty.” Marge answered. “I hope that you like it!”

“It’s been so long since I’ve had pot roast.” Walter replied longingly.

“Oh, I’m sure of it!” said Marge with sympathy dripping from every word. “There must be a lot of things that you haven’t had in a long time.”

“—from the kitchen I mean.” She added after a pregnant silence. Walter said nothing.

“Why don’t you open the wine, Walter, while I cut these beautiful flowers for the table?”

She handed Walter a corkscrew, which he used to open the Chardonnay. He stood staring at the kitchen cabinets with a forlorn look.

“I was just trying to figure out where you keep your goblets.” he said.

“Oh, let me get them!” Marge said as she stepped between him and the counter. She opened the cabinet door and looked above.

“They’re on the top shelf, do you thing that you could reach them, Walter?” She stepped aside to give him access to the cabinet, although in her heels Marge stood slightly taller than him.

“I don’t see them up there.” Walter was puzzled, intent on his goblet quest.

Marge stepped closer, so that she was standing sideways to him. She was close—she was sure that he could smell her perfume. She heard him sniff the scent.

Marge stood on her toes and reached her arm up toward the top shelf, and as she did so her sweater, with her breasts pressing out from underneath it, thrust itself in front of Walter’s face, blocking out his vision of all else, except possibly the pearl necklace that Marge was wearing. She stood there for a few seconds, then stepped away as she was sure that she had adequately dangled the bait.

Walter’s eyes had grown larger and his face was a few shades more red than it had been.

“I just remembered!” she said wistfully. “I moved them to the china cabinet in the dining room.”

Walter attacked the pot roast like a hungry man who loved pot roast.

“I have to admit that it has been a long time since I’ve had such good food, Marge.” he proclaimed. “You were nice to invite me to dinner.”

“Walter,” Marge began, “I’ve enjoyed our times together over the past two months so much. I wanted to do something . more for you.”

“Everything was certainly delicious.” he repeated.

“There’s more of everything.” Marge offered. “.and a few courses that I haven’t served yet.”

“I only have room for some more wine.” he said. Marge divided the remaining contents of the Burgundy between his goblet and her own.

“Look, Walter!” Marge exclaimed. “We’ve drained two bottles of wine. No wonder I feel a little tipsy. I thought it was because of you!”

They both laughed.

“I thought that it might have been your aftershave.” she explained.

“I’m not wearing any.” he informed her.

“You’re not?” Marge exclaimed. “I was sure that you were. Let me check.”

Marge rose from her chair. She grasped both of Walter’s shoulders and thrust her face close and alongside Walter’s. She felt his body stiffen at her sudden intrusion into his space.

“I was sure that you were wearing some.” She said as she retook her chair. She started giggling. “I’m wearing some perfume, could you tell, Walter?”

Walter nodded his head quickly. “Yes!” he gasped.

“I’m tipsy from the wine.” Marge giggled seductively. “I feel as vulnerable as a schoolgirl.”

She leaned into Walter and whispered, “You wouldn’t take advantage of me, would you?”

“No, Marge, don’t worry.” was his nervous reply.

“No, I should think not! At my age a woman doesn’t have to worry about that any more.” she feigned self-pity.

“Nonsense, Marge! I think of you as being very attractive.” declared Walter.

Marge scooted her chair closer to Walter’s. Their knees touched and Marge noted that he didn’t pull away.

“Do you think so?” she asked eagerly. “You wouldn’t just say that, would you?” She drove her eyes right through his.

Walter shook his head ‘no’. Marge back away slightly and waited silently for Walter to speak.

“Marge, I took and a chance and bought some tickets for us. I hope that you can go.”

Marge waited patiently for Walter to finish.

“It’s for the performance of Handel’s “Messiah” at the University of Michigan down in Ann Arbor. It will be on the first Saturday in December.”

“That sounds wonderful, Walter!” Marge exclaimed.

Walter’s face took on a satisfied look.

“But there’s just one problem.” Marge put on a frown.

“What?” Walter was suddenly deflated.

“It would be such a long drive in the winter—two hours one way—and it would be so expensive for two hotel rooms.” Marge pointed out.

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Walter said, but Marge knew that he must have.

“Walter, at our age lost opportunities are more expensive than when we were younger.”

She let her point hit home and placed his hand gently over his. Walter was silent, but Marge could tell that his mind was stepping nicely into line. He picked up his half-full cup of wine and drained it. Marge leaned forward. She whispered, her lips grazing his earlobe as she spoke.

“I made some apple pie for dessert. We can have some later.”

She gently clasped his hand and led him upstairs. Walter wore a nervous smile. Soon he would be wearing nothing else.

Poor Walter never stood a chance, but he may not have wanted one in the first place.

The holidays passed quietly. Paul was happy to have his daughter and son home from school for a few weeks. It gave him a chance to catch up with them. He didn’t mention his romances with Glenda and Marge. Both were in the past. It would be pointless to upset them.

Marge and Walter were still an item. She didn’t talk a lot about it, but Paul noticed her stepping lightly about the office as she did her filing. She seemed happy. Paul was glad that she was.

Ted Wilson told Paul that Glenda had taken a new job at the Chicago Mercantile Exchange. She was the Appointments Secretary for the General Counsel. She handled the schedule and appointments of that executive. She reported to The Counsel’s Administrative Assistant. She was taking Paralegal Training at night, hoping to step into the higher level when the incumbent retired in September. Paul was happy for her.

The lawsuit involving the Peoria Project was progressing slowly. The lawyers had been in court countless times. Not a single word had been argued in favor or against the plant. The issue was whether the case belonged in State or Federal Court. Hopkins had brought the suit in Federal Court, the tribunal of choice of activists. Wilton’s Agency, of course, preferred its own brand of judge. As the case ping-ponged between courts, Paul gave up on ever building a solvents plant in that city. When he thought of the waste, it angered him, but he had other work to do.

January gave way to February. Business took Paul to Latin America and then to Texas. It was nice to have a respite from the Michigan winter. He had important business in Corpus Christi and Texas City. From there, he took a flight to Georgia to interview a candidate for the Plant Engineer position at the Marietta Plant. The whole trip consumed two weeks and he was glad to be heading home. He found himself in Hartsfield Airport awaiting his flight back home.

He was ambling down the concourse when he heard his name being paged. He wasn’t expecting to meet anyone that day. He arrived at an information desk and the attendant handed him a message: “Meet Leonard Raines in the Red Carpet Lounge”.

Paul knew Raines. Usually, they were adversaries. Leonard Raines was Executive Director of Concerned Scientists of America (CSA). The two men seldom agreed on anything, but they respected one another. Raines had impeccable credentials, including a PhD in microbiology. Paul knew him to be very intelligent and sincere in his views. If Paul saw a shortcoming, it was Raines’ inability to effectively control his herd of zealots. He had heard that Raines hadn’t sought out the administrative job. His reputation had landed him there. For organizations like his, the power of name recognition and prestige were equally as important as science.

Raines was about Paul’s age. He had a slender build and was shorter than average. His hair was wavy and salt and pepper-colored. His beard matched. He was a quiet sort of fellow, not given to idle chat or bluster. In another time and place Paul and Leonard may have become friends.

They had clashed many times. Paul always noted that Raines never went personal when he skirmished. Paul appreciated that. Many of Raines’ people did not have the same discipline. Arthur Hopkins was a good example. As always, with money flowing into a controversy, the stakes increased along with passions. Grants from foundations and government were the fuel that powered CSA’s engine. The quest for profit and competitive advantages drove Dunn’s. Both men knew that there was always plenty of margin for error on both sides of any argument. That was their private face. In public they had to bare their teeth, or the press would sense surrender.

Paul arrived at the lounge. He slid his keycard into the security door and punched in his PIN. He wished that the airliners were guarded as closely as the private VIP bars in the nation’s airports.

“Go ahead and blow us out of the sky—just stay away from our booze.” He said to himself to no one in particular. Paul knew he was tired. He always became sarcastic when he was worn out.

He sauntered up to the bar and got a Scotch. He looked around and finally found Leonard Raines sitting at a table in the corner, almost unnoticed. He strode over to him.

“Hello, Leonard!” he called out. “It’s good to see you.”

Paul startled Raines, who had been lost in his thoughts.

“Hello, Paul. I’m glad that you got my page.” Both men extended their hands and shook them as they got close enough. “I was trying to reach you at your office. They told me that you were here in Atlanta. I took the liberty.” Raines explained.

“I’ve got ninety minutes before boarding.” Paul told him, taking a pull on his Scotch.

“They cancelled my flight to New York. I’ve got two hours.” Raines one-upped him.

“We haven’t seen one another in more than a year.” Raines said.

Paul nodded. He sensed that Raines had something to say, but was having a hard time getting started. Paul was very good at cutting to the chase.

“What’s up, Leonard?” Paul demanded.

“It’s this suit over that plant proposal in Peoria, Illinois.” Raines started. “I just wanted to let you know that we never really wanted it.”

Paul absorbed Raines’ statement and tried to analyze it. His first reaction was disbelief. He stifled it. Experience of the past year had warned him that anything was possible.

“You’ll have to explain this to me, Leonard. I’m sure that you remember that you are the plaintiffs and we’re the defendants.”

“It’s Hopkins!” Raines began. “He did this on his own without our approval. It was done before we even knew it existed. He arranged it with Northwestern Law School without our knowledge. By the time we found out about it, it was too late.”

Raines’ revelation reminded him of the long-destroyed compromising photos of Hopkins and Judson. Paul envisioned how Raines’ story could have happened. He decided to keep that to himself.

“What do you mean ‘too late’? Why don’t you pull the plug on him?” Paul queried.

Raines looked away. Paul could see that he was groping for a way to answer.

“There is a lot of money being wasted on this lawsuit.” Paul pressed harder. “That plant should be up and running now. Your case has no merit. The lawyers have been in court a dozen times, and they haven’t even argued it yet.”

Paul paused, waiting for an answer from Raines. Receiving none, he continued.

“There’s a construction company owned by a guy named Harry Carmichael that was nearly ruined because they were slated to build that plant. They turned down three other jobs, and then got left high and dry. Think of the people down there that should have jobs. On top of all that, Dunn should be down there producing, taking over the market, instead of wasting its money on these lawyers.”

Paul waited again for his answer, and still didn’t receive it.

“Leonard, I hope you don’t mind some free advice, but I would have to say that your organization is out of control.” Paul issued his final words.

Raines turned his gaze from the window and looked at Paul.

“I know.” He said, almost in a whisper.

“Is that what you paged me for?” asked Paul, rising from his chair. “I’ve got a plane to catch.”

“Wait, don’t go.” pleaded Raines. “You’ve got to understand about Hopkins. We both know that he’s a quack, but he’s a quack with a big following. A lot of people think that he walks on water. Those people are the ones who make contributions to our organization; they write their congressmen to support us with grants. When I confronted Hopkins about this, he threatened to split away from us—go public—take his support with him. He’s got us over a barrel.”

“So this is really a PR battle!” Paul replied. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I thought that you might have a solution.” Raines suggested.

“Like what?” Paul demanded. “Do you want us to give up the suit?”

Raines nodded yes. “We could have a secret arrangement to accommodate you another time.”

“Not a chance!” Paul countered.

“We really don’t want this.” Raines said. “You have to understand—our hands are tied.”

Paul thought for a minute. Raines’ admissions infuriated him. Paul fought to control his anger. If there was a chance that the Peoria problem could be resolved, he didn’t want to lose it.

“There is something, Leonard.” Paul said. Raines leaned forward intently.

“Let me tell you that I am going to divulge this because I’ve been able to trust you in the past.” Paul warned. “If you use this against me, it won’t go down easy.”

“I’ve always been straight with you, Paul.” Raines assured him.

“It’s just this.” Paul began. “There’s a plant proposal of ours in Corpus Christi that I know that you’ve filed a brief against.”

“I know of it. We filed, but never thought that our suit had much chance.” Raines interjected.

“We’re not going through with it. We already have a plant in Texas City. We’ll expand that plant and put the production in there. It will be announced next week. You must promise to lay off the Texas City expansion. You can take credit for foiling the Corpus Christi project. Then, you can order the suit in Peoria dropped. If Hopkins and his followers howl, you can say that you flogged Dunn Chemicals already, just used a different whip. They won’t like it, but they’ll swallow it.”

Raines eyes lit up. Paul knew that he had carried the ball into the end zone.

“That just might work!” Raines exclaimed.

“You have to make it work!” Paul commanded. “In the meantime, I’ll set things up at our office. I’ll call you in a day or two to coordinate. It will be good for everyone. You’ll have Hopkins under control, the suit will go away, and we’ll have cover for backing out of Corpus Christi.”

They clinked their half empty glasses together to seal the agreement.

And so, while two men were waiting for a plane in Atlanta, they resolved the lawsuit over the proposed Peoria Plant. They accomplished what an army of lawyers could not in months of wrangling and maneuver. Their budget was the cost of two drinks. They didn’t need blackmail, fraud or bribery. It was actually very easy.

TO BE CONTINUED.

Sherri and Gloria were a little early as they returned to school from lunch and a lot of kids were still milling around the hall, just killing time until fifth period started. Sherri turned to Gloria and said, “Ya know, I’m still hungry, how about you?” Gloria looked at Sherri and saw that look in her eyes! “Now wait a minute Sherri, we gotta be in class in less then fifteen minutes, and we don’t have time for that right now,” Gloria pleaded! “There’s always time for Jell-o babe,” shot back Sherri, “let’s see if we can find Kenny!” Before Gloria could make anymore protestations, Sherri was off into the sea of students looking for Kenny. Now you may be wondering what Sherri was so hot for,but Sherri is one of the many females addicted to giving head to big cocks! Hardly a day goes by that Sherri doesn’t have at least one good load of jizz shot down her hungry throat, and while Gloria likes to give head all right, it’s just that she isn’t hooked like a junkie on crack! Cruising the halls, Sherri finally found Kenny leaning up against his locker reading a magazine, and after gliding up to him, she quickly came right to the point by asking, “Kenny, I need it bad, can you give me some sugar right now?” Kenny gave her and Gloria a fast once over, shrugged his shoulders and said, “Sure, follow me,” he said, leading the two eighteen year olds into the empty dark gymnasium. Turning to face them, Kenny stood with his arms at his sides waiting for Sherri to make the first move. Dropping to her knees, Sherri unbuckled his belt and slid down his pants and short with one swift motion, exposing the semi-erect nine inch hammer that that hung between Kenny’s slim muscular legs! Sherri took in a deep breath and savored the smell of Kenny’s maleness as the aroma alone made her pussy saturate with her own juices! Sherri’s hot breath made Kenny’s cock begin to harden, and she moved in with her mouth, flicking her tongue over the satiny head and licking off the drop of precum that had oozed out of the slit! “Hurry up Sher,” Gloria urged, “we don’t have all day here!” Now closing her mouth over the big head, Sherri pumped the big erection with her hand as her head moved up and down the blue veined shaft! With her free hand Sherri reach out and pulled Gloria down so that she could taste the big pecker too! “Try it,” she said, as she let the it slip from her mouth and pointed it straight at Gloria. Gingerly at first Gloria licked the big head and softly slid it into her hot little mouth while her friend urged, “Suck it girl, suck him harder!” After a few minutes of sucking, Gloria released her grip on the big pecker and returned it to Sherri who greedily sucked it back down her throat! Kenny now was starting to feel his nut sack get tight with the anticipation of a big cum, and while looking at Gloria he ordered, “Let me see your cunt, you little bitch!” After looking around to make sure no one was watching them, Gloria lifted her skirt and pushed down her panties, her dark bush standing out starkly against her creamy white skin while Kenny ordered, “Finger it, slut!” Gloria slipped her middle finger deep into her crack, which caused her to gasp as she found her erect little clitoris! By now Sherri was doing a “hoover” on Kenny’s hard meat, and listening to Gloria gasping and panting as she frigged her slit, Kenny rushed towards his orgasm, while Sherri groaned as she felt his cock begin to spasm in her hand! “I”m cumming,” stammered a shaking Gloria, as her finger flew over her little nub! Hearing Gloria was all it took to send Kenny over the edge, and seconds later his hot cum filled Sherri’s mouth with blast after blast hitting the back of her throat, and while swallowing most of it, some still managed to run down her chin and drip to the floor. Sherri loved blowing Kenny because he always had so much cum for her!

Sherri stood up and kissed Kenny on the cheek and said, “Thanks for the sugar!” “Anytime kid,” he answered, “anytime!” On the way back to class, Sherri and Gloria stopped to talk to Amy about meeting after school to do homework. Gloria just shook her head and said, “You’re going to suck her off aren’t you?!?” Sherri, with a look of total innocence, said, “Who, me?” Gloria just rolled her eyes and headed off to class.

Amy’s bedroom was decorated in pink and white with a lot of heart shaped pillows all over the bed. Sherri absentmindedly spun a pillow in her hands as the three girls made small talk about school, boyfriends, etc. Sherri steered the conversation towards summer vacation and pointedly mentioned that she had just bought a new bikini for this coming swimming season. Amy piped up that she too had just bought a new suit, and went over to her dresser and pulled it out. It was a bright yellow bikini with small white polka dots that was very skimpy. Sherri looked at it and wondered how it would look and Amy quickly volunteered to try it on. Taking off her sweatshirt revealed a large chest in a lacy low cut bra, and Sherri was surprised a the frills because Amy always seemed to dress kind of sloppy and tomboyish! Off came her khaki work pants and Amy soon was standing there in her bra and panties, but without even a moment’s hesitation, she unhooked her bra and stepped out of her panties. Amy had a very nice body indeed, and Sherri and Gloria exchanged glances as Amy put on her new suit. When she got it on, she struggled to get it to fit comfortably, wiggling around, trying to make adjustments in the straps. Sherri said, “Let me help you with that,” as she reached out and helped Amy try to fit into the two small pieces of fabric. When she was satisfied, Amy posed in the middle of the room, showing her front, back, and profiles.

When both Sherri and Gloria both commented on how beautiful she looked, Amy just blushed with pride! Sherri then mention that maybe the bottom was just a little crooked, and offered to straighten it out, so sitting on the bed with Amy standing in front of her, Sherri tugged and pulled on the front of Amy’s suit. Now, ready to make her move, Sherri slipped her fingers inside and moved them around as if trying to align them, and when Amy didn’t move a muscle in protest, Sherri continued to slide her fingers around inside Amy’s suit bottom. Amy kept her pussy trimmed quite closely, so it was relatively easy to find her crack, so when her finger brushed over her clit, Amy stiffened, but still made no move to get away or stop Sherri from her probing! After almost a minute of this “accidental” touching, Sherri knew that she had her as she boldly slid the yellow bottoms off Amy’s slim hips. It was as quiet as a funeral, but Sherri broke the silence when she calmly said, “Amy, I’m going to eat your slit, lay down on the bed please.” Amy didn’t make a sound, and did exactly as Sherri had ordered. Now on her back with her legs spread, Sherri let her tongue roam up and down the now wet crack, flicking her tongue over her erect clitoris, causing a moan to gurgle out of Amy’s throat. More urgently now, Sherri bored in on her target, as the room now filled with the sounds of Sherri’s loud cunt lapping and Amy’s soft moaning! Gloria was sitting over in the corner working on her own clit, unable to believe how much sucking Sherri needed just to keep going!

The harder she sucked, the louder Amy’s groans became and Sherri looked up to watch Amy cum, and was not surprised to see that she had pulled her tits out and was kneading the hard nipples with her fingers! Gloria came over to Sherri and flipped up her skirt, exposing her ass and panties, and after grabbing the crotch of her undies, she gave them a hard jerk, exposing Sherri’s hot slit to the open air and also exposing it to Gloria’s hot mouth! She buried her face into her friends burning snatch and tongued her cunt as if it were a small pecker! Sherri was now going crazy with desire, as in her mouth was a beautiful pussy, and her own cut was being eaten alive by a true cuntlapper! All three girls were now racing to orgasm while their moans were now loud and overt! They didn’t care who or if anyone could hear them, all they wanted to do was cum, and that’s all they cared about! The little orgy was coming to a climax as all three girls started to peak at the same time, their pussies now on fire as the contractions in their crotches exploded into orgasms! Amy ground her cunt into Sherri’s open mouth and she did the same to Gloria, while Gloria frigged her own clit hard and fast, making her cunt explode like a tidal wave hitting the beach as all three girls lay in a heap of sweat, pussy juice, and twisted intertwined bodies as brutal orgasms over took them! Later on, all that could be heard was three people trying to catch their breath!

Finally regaining their composure, Sherri commented, “Nice suit, Amy!” “Thanks, Sherri,” answered Amy, “I’ll try it on again for you sometime!”

THE END

It’s a commonly known fact that all members of the WWF roster are on a tight schedule. They’re continuously cutting promos, editing, traveling or whatever. Which is why whenever they get a chance to hang back they take full advantage of it. Many well known superstars do this by going on risky roller coasters or whatever. The women…well that’s common knowledge.

Many of these superstars work backstage at gigs, or get to meet fans for whatever reason. Once you get there getting whatever you want is quite easy. How you do it is another matter.

My girlfriend is the same age as me. She’s a perfect specimen. I’ve been in love with her since I was 16 and she first came into my life. I didn’t do anything for a year, and when I finally let slip, I was scared stiff. So you could say I’m not a particularly impulsive person. She on the other hand is full of life, funny and anything a man could ever want in a woman.

By fluke it just so happened that the two of us were celebrating, and we’d gone to an amusement park for the day where we’d seen few superstars and after that we went swimming. Pools are great places. Jacuzzis especially. So we were in there just sharing a private Jacuzzi minding our own business kissing quietly. My mouth moved down to her breast every so often, and she would huddle up like she was being tickled. Soon enough her bikini came off and we started making love in the Jacuzzi, we’d done this sort of thing before, and we both relished differences. So she sat on me bobbing up and down, she riding me and the bubbles, my head in her perfect breasts some of her long brown hair streaking down her. I came into her as the bubbles came exploding her with juices, as I lay back she picked my head up and began locking lips- what a perfect girl.

Abruptly the PA system sounded ordering us out of the pool, apparently a party had been booked. You’ve already guessed who it was. WWF women, doing what it seems what women do best, chatting and swimming. We took a tad longer than we were supposed to in the shower, for reasons you’ve already guessed, but you wanted details on celebs, not my beautiful girlfriend Emma.

Before we were finished the shower room exploded with women (I didn’t want to take her to the male shower room for fear that all the blokes would have their eyes on her). To be honest I didn’t really recognise them, Emma did, she recognised Stephanie, Stacey, Torrie, Tori and someone called Trish, I heard later that Lita, who usually travels around with them, was having dinner with Matt Hardy elsewhere.

So there we were, naked our swimming stuff on the floor, and the WWF women. Remember what I told you before, about “whenever they get a chance to hang back they take full advantage of it.” Well Steph certainly did. Trish and Tori went swimming. I guessed the other 2 blondes were new as they were obeying Steph to the letter.

Emma was actually on my cock, and she swivelled to talk to them, “oops, sorry, guess we took longer than we wanted to”

Stephanie is the coyest slyest women I have ever seen, apparently she got Chyna fired because China was almost going out with the superstar she is currently going out with.

“Hi, you know us?”

“Yeah, you’re as big in England as over here”

“You’re English then, wanna hang out?”

“Wow! Yeah, just let me stick this stuff back on”

So Emma got her kit back on, and I stood facing the wall, not daring to face them out of temptation.

“Trish and Tori are already in the pool, Stacey will you take her to them? I need the loo”

So they left, and I was left alone with Steph and Torrie.

“Wow, I’m sorry, if you let me get changed, I leave you to enjoy the pool”

She sauntered toward me, with Torrie in pursuit, me clueless

“Go ahead, but would you mind putting something on first, Torrie here, well she’s…”

I turned around, “she’s what?”

Instantly Torrie was down on her knees sucking my cock, her enormous breasts below. I fell back against the wall in ecstasy, “what are you….” I managed to stutter

“Torrie here gives the best blowjobs in the world I’m told” Steph looked on.

“Many men have tried to resist, but have failed, you look strong, I wonder can you resist this?” She walked that final step toward me, stopped and kissed me full on, her soft lips parting as mine dove in hungrily. “No? Then maybe this”

She slid the bottom half of her two-piece suit down to the floor and gingerly stepped out of it, revealing a shaved cunt and incredible legs, from what I could see she was petite, but had extremely large breasts, Torrie’s were bigger though. She put her hands under her jugs and thrust them upwards into my face, filling it with a scented aroma, almost irresistible. I couldn’t help it. A nipple was shoved close to my mouth, I softly grabbed it in between my teeth, and began to suckle.

She moaned, “good” and commanded Torrie, “off” between moans, and promptly positioned herself on tiptoes, while Torrie grabbed my shaft and guided it into her cunt as she settled. Her weight was enough to make me buckle, and rise up into her, in a thrusting motion while Torrie steadied me.

“This” moan “isn’t” moan “working” moan. Torrie holstered her off me, as I stood shaking.

Steph guided me to the floor, and I didn’t object, my thoughts ignoring Emma as my back hit the cold floor. I was acutely aware of Torrie also taking off her two piece suit. Almost rhythmically, Steph positioned herself once again on my cock, pushing me down, and making me thrust upward. Torrie guided one of my hands to one of Steph’s breasts, allowing for ample groping space, while she settled her minge on my face and guided another hand to her breasts. I fondled, going harder and faster, pinching lightly and groping, making me thrust into Steph harder and faster until through my tongue swirling around Torrie she came onto my face, making me shoot my load into Steph and vice versa.

Steph checked the clock, “5 minutes longer than last time Torrie” she stated, “that’s good” she cooed to me. “Very good, now lets try it a different way.”

A tall blonde had just entered. “5 minutes late” she (Stacey) stated.

“I know” said Steph, “I like this one, I might just play a little longer” she commanded at me

“Emma” I croaked

“Is having the time of her life” Stacey smiled, “as will I”

Torrie, pushed her boobs around the side of my head, so that I had to watch Stacey undress. Her legs were much nicer than the other’s but her breasts were smaller. Stephanie began to kiss Stacey, indulging in a form of foreplay, while Torrie ‘made’ lose my head in her breasts. I laid her down in an identical position as I had been in, and Steph and Stacey blocking the entrance watched me tit fuck her, before making love to her. 5 minutes later my dick was in her cunt and immersed in our collective cum. Steph stopped foreplaying with Stacey.

“Impressive”, and began to give me a blow job, while Stacey lay on top of Torrie, reviving her by eating her out. I was weak, but began to revive, and eventually was fully making love simultaneously to both Stacey and Stephanie, whilst Torrie too weak to do anything else was pouring shampoo and other shower gel etc, things down out sweating bodies, getting rid of the smell (cunningly). The number of kisses I laid tracing circles of Steph in particular were immense, and it was literally like, taking my dick out of Steph, kissing Steph’s boobs, then whilst kissing Steph (told you she was manipulative) giving Stacey a ride. Steph, being nice and loose came later than Stacey, but once she started, it took a long while for her to stop. Eventually the three of them got up, and just left me on the floor, leaving me resided to get up, hauling myself against the wall, and rest in an attempt to regain my strength.

If I hadn’t felt so guilty about cheating on my perfect girlfriend I would have enjoyed what I got, and the annoying thing is that I did. I didn’t want it to stop, a 2/3 on 1 is every bloke’s dream, and I got to fulfil it, and I enjoyed it. But it was all meaningless, ‘cos the girl that I really wanted hadn’t been a part of it, and I could’ve sworn that the girl in the pool was the girl I wanted to end up with. Even now to this day, I convinced that I want to end up with her. Not because of the sex. But because I love her- so the celebrity sex was meaningless because I love her and only her.

Sex is a strange thing surreal almost at times.

First sex is seldom a cataclysmic opening, rather a build up of various tendrils which will one day flower into full blush.

As a teenager I had scarlet fever. Well perhaps more a virgin than a teenager 18 or thereabouts. I had to stay home from school, missing important exams in the process. I stayed at my aunt’s, my great-aunt really; she was deemed to be the only person able to care for me as the scarlet fever ran its course.

It was awful too. Not just the unbearable itchiness of the spots, but the fever and the feeling of utter weakness total helplessness.

I was abed for some time, I cannot remember certainly days, maybe weeks.

I was aware of my aunt’s presence and knew I was getting through the malady when I managed to feel embarrassment at her giving me bed baths. The soothing of the cool wet face washers more than made up for the embarrassment however.

Finally a day came where my aunt felt I was well enough to shower with some assistance. She led into the bathroom me, so weak I had to lean against her for support. I leant against the wall beside the shower stall as she fiddled with the knobs, getting the temperature of the water to her satisfaction. I pressed my aching head against the coolness of the tiles, struggling to stand upright.

From some distance I could hear my aunt’s voice, asking me to turn so she could help remove my pyjamas. I was unable to comply and she gently turned me to face her, allowing me to lean against the wall for support.

She unbuttoned the pyjama top and eased it off me how beautiful the cool of the tiled wall felt on the misery of the spots coating my teenaged body. She then loosed the cord of my pyjama pants allowing them to fall down around my ankles.

After that I have a dim remembrance of her guiding me into the shower I certainly remember the stinging agony of the water on the scarlet fever spots. She soaped me down very carefully before her retirement she had been a nurse, so was adept at this sort of thing.

Soon I was out, dried and dressed, the back into bed. Feeling better for the shower, but as weary after this exertion as if I had run a marathon or two.

This showering became a daily routine as my condition slowly started to improve. And, to be honest, I enjoyed the water and the relief. This countered the embarrassment of being naked in front of my great aunt who must have been in her early sixties at the time.

I remember protesting at her careful soaping of my genitals she simply pooh poohed the idea, insisting that she had washed thousands of men, old and young and that I had absolutely no need to feel embarrassed.

These washes became longer as I gained health, and the concentration on my genitalia more marked. She told me that this was a site where the scarlet fever might recur, and that she needed to make sure that the area was spotless. Similarly she would insist on me turning around and bending over so that she could gain easy access to my anus, washing that carefully as well.

These showers ended with her drying me with very soft fluffy towels, as I stood naked in front of her. Then she would gently rub talcum powder over me, again taking care over my genitals, and round my anus.

One morning I woke with an erection. There was no real reason for this I had not been musing on anything sexual, did not wake from any erotic dream, nothing at all.

The erection was so strong that it was indeed a little painful. When my aunt came into the room I had turned onto my stomach and was gaining some measure of relief by rubbing my engorged member against the crisp starched whiteness of the sheet.

My aunt knew straightway what was affecting me, and seemed genuinely angry. She herded me unceremoniously to the shower, and stripped me roughly. My pyjama bottoms caught on the upward curve of my cock; for whatever reason my erection refused to go down, even though, by this time I was red not from scarlet fever, but from great embarrassment. She pulled savagely at the cloth and when it dropped away my cock bobbed obscenely up and down in front of her.

She washed me quickly, much more roughly than usual, and when she got to my genitals slapped at the erection still pushing out at her.

No words were spoken through this entire episode and she virtually threw the towel at me, leaving me to dry myself and dress as she exited, slamming the door.

Nothing was said about the incident through the day, although it was quite obvious that she was still put out by the whole thing, in a way I struggled to understand.

When she brought me lunch, I tried to apologise, but she brushed my words away. When I said that I thought I was well capable now of showering unaided she tartly responded, saying that she would be the judge of when that time was right.

Mid afternoon came, finding me sitting still not all that comfortably, in a chair in the sunroom, desultorily reading a novel from my aunt’s considerable collection of books. I was a little surprised when I heard her calling for me. I got up slowly, and headed in the direction of the sound.

I was even more surprised when I realised that she was calling me from the bathroom. The door was ajar, and without opening it I asked her what it was that she wanted. I was told to come in and close the door behind me.

Nothing could have prepared me for the shock of what I beheld, walking through the door. My aunt was naked, totally naked stretched out in the bath. She was covered by the water, but the water was like crystal concealing nothing.

I averted my eyes, feeling my face blushing crimson. My aunt asked for a face washer, I fumbled about in the vanity passing one quickly, then making as if to retreat out the door.

“No! Don’t go. Sit on the end of the bath I want to talk to you.”

She spoke about frankness, and nudity, about me coming into adulthood a sort of ad hoc lecture on the birds and the bees.

It was impossible not to sneak glances at her. She was undoubtedly old her breasts were almost flat sacs against the boniness of her ribcage, but the nipples were large, and erect, pointing up through the water’s surface. Her legs were clamped together and at their junction there was a substantial bush of reddish-grey hair. I could see that her buttocks had lost their firmness pressing out flatly from her pelvis.

That said, my aunt was still most definitely a woman. I was shamed to feel my penis thickening in my pants in response to her naked form.

I had to get out.

Muttering some thanks for her words I fled out, leaving her looking somewhat shocked, and the door wide open.

I turned the corner into the hall and the motion allowed my now erect member to spring free, bobbing through the flap of my pyjama bottoms. I turned into the next doorway the toilet. I closed the door and locked it, sitting down heavily on the seat, my mind a welter of varying emotions.

My cock stood straight out from my pubic hair its need demanding my attention. I masturbated quickly, roughly dragging my hand up and down its length, hand crushing it fiercely. I came almost straightway, a great gout of semen flying out like a jet stream. A great gobbet landed on the back of the door, its weight dragging it wetly down the painted surface.

I felt humiliated and so very ashamed.

Over the next few days my aunt not only kept showering me, but instituted the practice of getting me to come into the bathroom to watch her bathe. I gradually accustomed myself to this, and small changes became noticeable. In showering me she seemed to take an inordinate amount of time over my penis. She would hold the sac of my scrotum in one cupped hand whilst she stroked my soapy member with the other. The effect was irresistible; I could feel my cock begin to lift in little jerky upward movements. Sometimes the fingertips of the hand cupping my balls would ‘accidentally’ brush against my anus, and it was as if an electric shock surged through me.

In the late afternoons I would more and more willingly allow myself to be summoned into the room when my aunt bathed. She would wash herself carefully, lifting little upward glances at me, noting where my eyes were straying. Sometimes she would make little movements that seemed directly linked to my ever turgid genitals. Increasingly she would allow her legs to fall open, granting brief glimpses of the ragged line of her vulval lips. On one occasion she lifted her hips so that her entire pubic mound broke surface, and then soaped the exposed thatch of hair slowly and gently, eventually spreading her legs a little, before massaging the foam into her exposed labial lips.

She never allowed these ’sessions’ to be prolonged enough for me to achieve a full erection and I found that, more and more, I was in such need afterwards that I would hasten straightway to the toilet, cock hardening and would drag on my engorged member until streams of semen erupted, temporarily allaying my need.

Of course, the time neared when I was to leave her house go home, and back to school. This lent a frisson to these moments, ensuring a sort of heightened tension in the air.

One day as she was stroking my penis in the shower stall she asked me the question I had been dreading.

“You know, after we have these little interludes? Do you masturbate?”

I could only nod dumbly, head hanging.

The admission seemed to spark something in her. Her ‘washing’ of my penis became something far more overtly sexual more of a slow masturbation. The hand enclosing my balls tightened and a fingertip raked across the sensitive wrinkled flesh of my arsehole.

“Oh God aunt!?” I choked on the words, as my cock relentlessly stood to attention. She did not however, stop her ministrations at this point, as had been the case so often before. Rather she tightened her grip on my member and simply stroked harder and more purposefully.

Teetering on the edge of total loss of control, I gripped the sides of the shower stall. I could the rising of the fluid in my balls. Tried desperately to halt it, think of something else.

Without speaking she pressed the fingertip on my anus downwards the sphincter gave and she smoothly slid the finger, two joints deep into me.

The scalding jet of semen arced out across the intervening space, spattering in great strings and gobs on her apron. She released my quivering cock as I slumped against the wall. Rinsed her hands under the still steaming shower, and without a word left the room.

Nothing was said at all of this new development, until later, when as habit demanded I went into the bathroom to watch her bathe.

She coughed a little cough, clearing her throat, and then spoke.

“I think it is time that you perhaps assisted me to bathe. Have you any objections to that?”

“No. I guess not. If that is what you really want.”

She sat up, the flattened globes of her breasts sagged, but how I longed to touch the nipples. So red. So erect. She bade me wash her back and I dutifully soaped her there, rinsing the soap away when I had done the entire area.

“Now, my breasts.”

I reached across scant inches from touching these appendages, when she stopped me.

“No! Oh look, your pyjama top is getting all wet. You will have to take it off. And the pants too if I am naked there is no reason why you cannot be as well.”

Oh lord! My cock! It was all ready half erect would sway in the breeze leaving no doubt as to my arousal.

The lure of the nipples defeated all else. I stripped, noting her concentrated gaze at my no longer flaccid penis.

I washed her breasts perhaps more thoroughly than they had ever been. Rinsing them, I noticed one hand had strayed to her pubic bush, and realised that she was gently but firmly tugging at the lips down there. I could feel my cock jerking in the air, wanted so much to stroke it.

My aunt was lying back in the bath propped on her elbows, head thrown back, eyes closed lips parted just a little.

“Pull my nipples.”

Oh God! Really?

I picked those magnificent nipples up, one between each thumb and forefinger lifting her breasts. As I did so, she lifted her hips so that the entire expanse of her cunt was exposed free of the water. Her hand blurred across her sex, and she groaned audibly. Droplets of pre-come slipped free of my now raging erection and dropped unheeded into the bath water.

She looked straight at me and I realised that she was orgasming.

“I want you to masturbate for me. I want to see your fluids.”

I could not believe what I was hearing.

“I can’t aunty I just can’t.”

“Of course you can you have. Plenty of times you told me.”

As she spoke I realised that she had parted those lower lips and was rubbing a finger gently between them.

“OH God! I can’t!”

“Yes you can.” She was quietly insistent.

Without conscious thought, my hand had reached for my erection was all ready stroking. Semen boiling in my heavy, aching balls.

She lifted her hips a little higher, spreading her legs. Those sexual lips parted and the probing finger pushed inside deep inside. Hips moving on this intruder.

I knew that I would come. Again, it was a great thick stream which shot out. The first spurts landed near my aunt’s navel, then lower down great gobbets of semen clinging wetly to her pubic bush, dribbling slowly down between her legs.

She was coming again. Her finger pushed more and more urgently in and out of her gaping cunt. Her other hand tugged violently at her nipple, pulling it savagely, as she writhed in the bathtub.

When the orgasm left her she sank back into the water. Some of my semen lifted from her pubic hair and floated in the now still water.

She motioned me away, saying simply “We will talk about this later.”

We never did. I left for home two or three days later, and it was as if all this had been a dream it wasn’t though.

“That was fucking incredible.” My eighteen year old daughter has just finished fucking herself with her stiletto heeled shoes, whilst I was filming it for her website.

She sticks a finger into her pussy one more time, again scooping out some juices, and sucks her finger hard, licking it with her pierced tongue. She moans.

“Daddy, you’d better go and take care of yourself.” She points at my rock hard dick, which is making a high tent in my trousers. “Is it okay if I use your computer to order some toys while you’re gone?”

“What kind of toys?”

“You know.” She gives me an innocent and incredibly sexy smile. “Dildos, vibrators, those kinds of things. I can’t use my heels forever.”

“Sure honey, go ahead.” Well, what else was I going to say?

I go to the bathroom, free my cock from it’s painful prison, and pump no more than three times before I’m cumming more than I’ve ever cum before.

Four nights have passed since that first masturbation scene, and it’s Saturday morning. We’ve shot several more scenes since that first one, including one where she used a banana, one where she dressed up as a secretary and used a pen on herself, and another where she fucked herself with the handle of a hairbrush.

Last night she used her fingers, and even stuck one slightly up her arsehole for the first time. She came like I’d never seen. That was to celebrate the launch of the website.

I had managed to convince her to go back to school for the remainder of the week, and to dress a little more sensibly, though she did show me on the way out of the door on Friday morning that she wasn’t wearing any underwear!

I’m disturbed from my memories by a knock at the door, and I run downstairs.

It’s a delivery for Sadie - I thought she was just going to order a couple of toys? This box is far too big for that. My mind boggles at the thought of what else she might have bought.

Sadie is still in bed; she didn’t get in until after 4 in the morning. She’s dressing more and more like a slut when she goes out now, and I love it. She must be fighting guys off all night long.

I go upstairs to give the package to Sadie, but she is in the shower, so I leave it on her bed, and return downstairs to add yesterday’s photoset to the website.

Sadie eventually comes downstairs wearing only a tight black t-shirt dress and her thigh-high black leather boots. She’s already done her make-up, and the dark eyeliner and full lip-gloss makes her look every inch the slut that she’s on her way to becoming.

“Morning Daddy.”

“Morning sweetness. Are you going out?”

“No, why?”

You’re all dressed up, I thought you might be going somewhere.”

“No, I just really like wearing these boots, that’s all.” I have to agree, they are fabulous.

She sits down next to me and crosses her legs demurely, rubbing them together slightly. I see why she likes wearing the boots - I think they turn her on! I’ve never seen someone so horny all the time. Except perhaps me watching her being horny.

“Can we have a look to see if we’ve got any e-mails from the site please Daddy? Then perhaps we can do a set with some of my new toys.”

“Sure.”

I load up the e-mails, and see that she already has quite a following.

“Wow, there’s loads. Do you think they like it?” she asks.

“They’d be mad not to, but lets read a few.”

They’re all really complimentary, even if some of them are rather abrupt (”you’re so fucking hot, can I fuck you?”). One of them suggests a webcam, which I make a mental note to purchase and set up as soon as possible.

“You love all this attention, don’t you?”

“Fuck yeah. Oh wow, look at this one.”

I have a quick read. This guy obviously thinks that Sadie’s some kind of goddess (I’m not about to argue), and he finishes off by saying that he’d “like to see a cock between those pretty lips sometime soon”.

Sadie fidgets in the chair. I decide to go for it.

“Do you want to do that?”

“Do what?”

“Give a blowjob on film.”

She thinks about if for less than a second before replying.

“God yes.”

“You don’t mind? I mean, I don’t want to pry, but I don’t know how, er, experienced you are.”

The gives me a wicked little smile.

“Are you asking me how many men I’ve been with, Daddy?”

“No, er, I was, er.”

“Before last weekend and my birthday, it was two. Since then, I’ve fucked another.”

She’s counting them up in her head. God, how many can there have been in six days?

“Nine.”

“NINE! Since last weekend?”

“Yeah. There was one guy when I went out for my birthday, we went back to his place, and that was okay. There was that guy I met at the shops on Monday, we fucked in a motel room. Tuesday was some guy I met whilst out running, we did it in his car, which was fun but I wouldn’t recommend it. Wednesday I fucked Brad at school, Thursday was Tom, Friday was James, but the headteacher caught us, so I had to fuck him to get us out of trouble. And last night, there was this guy, I fucked him once in the toilets, then him and his mate back at his place. I think that’s nine?”

“You slut!”

“Daddy! It’s your fault. You got me all these sexy clothes, and the piercings, and got me all turned on before I went out for my birthday, and it’s just kind of snowballed from there. You’re not angry, are you Daddy?”

Angry? It was what I was hoping for.

“No darling, just a little surprised. That’s quite a change in a week.”

“I know, but it’s all thanks to you. Thank you so much.”

She leans forward and kisses me on the cheek.

“So, who’s dick am I going to blow for this video?”

Here we go. No turning back.

“How about mine?”

“Yours!”

It’s her turn to look shocked. I’d better give her some kind of explanation.

“Well, you know, I think it needs to be one of those point-of-view videos, and as I’ll be filming it, I guess that would have to make it my cock.”

That’s not the real reason, of course. I don’t know if she’s bought it, but she’s thinking about it.

“Are you not worried at all about being seen having sex with your daughter on the internet?

“I’d effectively be behind the camera, they wouldn’t see my face, only my dick, and I don’t think anyone will be recognising me from that. As long as we don’t tell anyone, then there shouldn’t be a problem. Is that your main concern - that we might get caught? Not that you’d be sucking your old man’s cock?”

“I don’t see a problem with a blowjob, it’s not like I’ll be fucking you. In fact, the whole taboo thing is just making me hornier the more I think about it! Let’s do it now.”

She said yes! Oh happy day!

She stands up, and heads for the stairs.

“Let me change first, I’ve just got an outfit that’ll be perfect for this.”

I wait, dumbstruck that she’s actually agreed to this. My eighteen year old daughter is about to suck me off. On camera. I wonder what treat she has in store with the outfit?

I don’t have to wait too long, she’s heading back down the stairs, slowly revealing herself to me. First, those boots, she’s kept them on, that’s good. And then, tight and high on her thighs, a white latex skirt. No wait, it’s a dress. Oh wow, it’s a latex nurses outfit! Her tits are barely held in place at the front, and she’s even got the little hat on.

She reaches the bottom of the stairs, and strikes a pose.

“What do you think, Daddy?”

“I think it could be a short video, I’m about ready to blow just by looking at you.”

She looks at me coyly. “Well, we’d better get started then. Where shall we do it?”

“I think your bedroom is probably best. I’ll start by lying on the bed, and then you can go from there.”

“Okay.”

She turns back up the stairs, stopping after a few steps and looking back to make sure that I’m following. I pick up my camera and head after her.

From behind and below her on the stairs, I can see right up her tiny outfit, her bare cunt glistening in the light. She’s wet for this.

We get to her room, and she stops.

“Seeing as I’m wearing a nurses outfit, why don’t we do a bit of roleplay? You can be my patient.”

“Good idea.”

“I’ll wait out here, you shout ‘action’ when you’re ready.”

“Okay.”

I walk in the room, and remove my clothes. My dick is rock hard and already leaking pre-cum. I clamber on the bed and point the camera at the door. This is it.

“Action.”

My daughter enters the room. She’s got a clipboard from somewhere and, as she turns to close the door behind her, she drops it.

“Oops.”

She bends at the waist, keeping her legs straight, giving the camera a perfect shot of her pussy. She holds the pose for a moment, looks back and smiles. She straightens up, and pretends to read something from the clipboard.

“Hello there, Sir. It says her that you’ve got a problem, your penis is hard and you can’t get it to go down.” She smiles at the camera. “Some girls would say that wasn’t a problem.”

She gives a wink, and puts the clipboard down.

“Lets see if we can’t do something about this then.”

She climbs gracefully onto the bed and kneels over my groin. Her arse is high in the air, her face just inches from my cock. I can see lust in her eyes.

With her tits nearly falling out of her top, she flicks her pierced tongue out at my dick, barely making contact, as though testing it. Slowly she licks it, then again, each time with longer strokes.

She runs her tongue right from the base of my dick to the top, then gently kisses the head. A string of pre-cum trails behind as she moves away.

Then, suddenly and aggressively, she slams the entire 6 inches down her throat. I jump in surprise, but she holds me there, looking up into the camera.

Too late I realise that we hadn’t arranged a signal for me to let her know when I was about to cum. I wave one hand at her quickly, hoping to get her attention, and she pulls back a little just in time to catch the first eruption on her tongue. Taking my cock from her mouth and pointing it at her chest, the second and third blasts hit the top of her tits. She rushes the cock back to her mouth to catch the rest of it, and I sigh with satisfaction.

That was incredible, though I’m disappointed that I couldn’t last longer.

Sadie looks at the camera and sticks her tongue out, showing the pool of cum she’s collected there. She surprises me when she takes her tongue back into her mouth and swallows. God that’s hot!

“That was delicious, thank you very much Sir. But it seems you still have a problem.”

She’s right. As she rubs the remaining cum into her tits, my dick is still hard.

She readjusts herself so that she is sat on my thighs, facing the camera, straddling me.

Slowly, she peels the hem at the front of her dress up to reveal her wet pussy lips.

“You’ve got me so hot, let’s see if we can’t fix this problem somehow else, eh?”

I’m in total shock as she takes hold of my cock and rubs it slowly up and down her slit. She emits a guttural moan, a moan that I’ve come to recognise and love - it’s usually just when she’s at her horniest, and ready to stick something in her cunt. This time, I realise, that something is going to be me.

Slowly she eases my cock head between her pussy lips, teasing herself and me. I can barely contain myself, and try to thrust up towards her.

She’s ready for it though, and moves away, teasing us both a little longer. I try thrusting up again, and this time she’s moving downwards at the same time. My dick slams into her cunt.

We both groan.

I’ve never felt anything like it. I’ve dreamt of this for so long, but never thought that it could actually surpass those dreams. Her hot hole is like the rest of her - perfect. And so, so tight.

Slowly she begins to rock herself, panting now as her breaths come quicker.

She’s moving quicker now, fucking herself on my pole. Staring into the camera, she is completely lost in the lust of the moment.

She stops, breathing heavily, and turns around, so that her arse is facing the camera. Taking hold of my dick, she forces herself all the way down onto it in one motion.

She stays there for a moment, clenching and unclenching her cunt muscles, and I can feel myself bubbling up again. I find the heel of her boot sticking into my hip, and grab hold of it with my free hand.

She starts pumping herself on top of me again, building up the pace. Our thighs slap together noisily, her moaning growing in volume at the same pace.

I know she’s getting close now, and I am too. Where does she want me to shoot my cum? We never got anywhere near discussing this possibility, and I’m not sure how she might feel about it. As though reading my mind, she suddenly speaks.

“I want to feel your cum inside me.”

That does it. Nothing in the world will stop me from cumming now.

My first blast in her unprotected womb triggers her orgasm, and it is a mighty one. Shaking and shuddering and screaming on my lap, I’m suddenly stuck by what we’re doing. And although I know it’s wrong, I really don’t care.

Breathing heavily and still shaking slightly, but regaining her composure, Sadie lifts herself from my cock. Slowly she turns around and puts my softening dick in her mouth, sucking off our combined juices.

Finally she removes my limp dick from her mouth, and looks into the camera.

“Okay Sir, that looks to have done it. If you should happen to have this problem again, don’t hesitate to come back to see me.”

She stands up, not bothering to cover her bottom half with the tiny dress, picks up the clipboard that she put down earlier, and sashays out of the room, her arse on full display.

Shutting the door behind her, I stop the camera and gulp. I can’t believe we just did that.

“Cut.”

Sadie comes bounding back into the room.

“I can’t believe we just did that, Daddy. I’m sorry I went that far, is it okay? I couldn’t stop and ask you ‘cos I was in character and it would have ruined the video, but God, I needed you so badly.”

“It’s okay, slow down.”

I hug my daughter, holding her tight to me.

“It’s fine, darling. I was surprised you wanted to go that far, but that’s okay.”

“Are you sure, Daddy? You’re not angry that I didn’t ask you first?”

“Angry? That was the most incredible experience of my life. Thank you.”

“Thank you, Daddy. It was fantastic, wasn’t it? Perhaps we could do it again sometime.?”

And with that thought circling through my head, we both fall asleep in eachother’s arms, smiling and happy to be together in every sense.

“A spell. For me. You’re gonna do a spell for me.” Spike growled.

“Uh. . .w-what kind of spell?”

“A love spell! Are you brain dead?” Willow rolled over, clutching a pillow to her chest but still the phantom words echoed in her sleeping mind.

“You lie to me and I’ll shove this through your face! Do you want that? All the way through to your brain!”

“No. Please no.” Willow turned over again. “Nightmare.” She mumbled, still deep in her own dream. Tears began to leak from her eyes as she shuddered on the bed, cowering from the phantom Spike.

“That smell. Your neck. I haven’t had a woman in weeks.” The vampire groaned.

“Whoa! No! Hold it!”

“Unless you count that shopkeeper.” Willow thrashed in the bedcovers and still the images flashed in her mind, cringing before Spike, Xander laying helpless and bleeding on the bed. There was no place to run to, no where to hide.

“Now hold on! I’ll do your spell for you. . .and. . . and. . . I’ll get you Drusilla back. But there will be no ‘bottle in face’ and there will be no ‘having’ of any kind with me. Alright?”

“No! Don’t, please don’t, Spike-” Willow cried, clutching the pillow tighter.

“Please don’t what?” A British accented voice asked. She heard it, clear as anything. She was awake suddenly, as if she’d been doused in ice water. Please. . .please. . .please. . .let it be Giles, gulp, that would be weird and require therapy but not deadly. Or Wesley! That would be annoying but not fatal. Unless you could die from boredom. But somehow she knew it wouldn’t be either. Willow’s eyes flew open and reality settled in.

It wasn’t a dream.

“No! This isn’t happening!” Willow screamed as she sat upright in bed. The room was under a veil of darkness. . .and she could barely make out the shadowy form of Spike beside her. Willow shut her eyes very deliberately. One. . .two. . .when I open. . .three. . .my eyes,. . .four. . . there won’t. . .five. . . .be a vampire. . .six. . .there staring. . .seven . . .eight. . .at. . .nine. . . .me. . .ten. She opened them.

But ’shadowy Spike’ was still there and a throaty chuckle issued form his obviously hoarse throat. A match flared and sparked a glowing ember on the tip of a menthol cigarette. He blew the smoke out in a hazy swirl, leaving the aroma of burned mint in the air. “Glad to see you joined the land of the living, pet.” Spike drawled. He laughed at his own unintentional joke. “Well, at least one of us is. Living that is. So maybe I’m welcoming you to the land of the dead.”

She was made mute by terror all she was aware of was her heart’s thundering beat and her quick breaths. A light flicked on and Willow’s eyes were assaulted by it’s brilliance. She put her hands over her eyes, partly trying to adjust and partly to block out the view of her blond captor. What you can’t see. . . a cold metal weight settled on her right wrist and a lock snapped. . .will drain you dry and leave your body on your friend’s doorstep. Spike had handcuffed her! Before she could struggle, he pulled her arm over to the headboard and snapped the other cuff into the metal frame. She was now attached to the bed. No means of escape now. Some snippet of their earlier conversation . . .or terrifying exchange of words as the case may be. . . came back to her. “I haven’t had a woman in weeks.”

Woah! ‘Having’ is bad, bad thing. Any kind of ‘having’ a vampire would do at least. She frantically tried to remember the rest of the conversation or what happened next but she couldn’t. “W-w-what am I doing here?”

“Don’t remember how are little tete-a-tete ended, do you?” Spike asked gleefully, resting his head on his elbow as he watched her like she was the morning’s entertainment. Spike loved to watch humans squirm. It beat television, for the most part.

Willow fervently hoped she wasn’t about to be a t.v. breakfast. She chewed on her lower lip as she searched for words. “Um, no.” Her eyes skittered away from him and she looked at her surroundings, they were different from earlier. She realized that they weren’t in the burned out factory anymore. They seemed to be in a cheap hotel room. The walls were a dingy brown, the bedclothes had mystery stains on them, and a half-ripped sign on the back of the door proclaimed that they were at the “Beldick Motel”. Willow thought she saw a rat scuttle under the bed.

“Not surprised, I rapped you pretty hard on that brainy head of yours.” He didn’t sound sorry about it.

She touched her free hand to the base of her skull and noted some tenderness, that’s why there was dull ache. Her fingers carefully drifted to her neck and she noted two puncture marks but he hadn’t drained her. There was some dried blood on her neck but not an excessive amount. She didn’t even feel light headed. What else was she missing? “Oh!” Xander! “Where’s Xander?” Her eyes darted around the room.

“The boy?”

“Uh-huh.” Let him be alive, let him be alive, let him be alive. . .

“I left him back in Sunnydale, pet.”

“And he was alive when you left, right?”

Spike smirked. “Yep, sleepin’ soundly.” He tilted his head as he continued to watch her. “Think I even left the door ajar for him. Not that I care about that git. I was carrying you out and couldn’t be bothered to shut it.” He only left the boy alive because he hadn’t been hungry. Killing wasn’t that much fun if the victim wasn’t conscious and able to scream anyway. Made the meal boring. What was the point if there wasn’t any theater with the dinner?

Willow sighed in relief. Then, stiffened. “Did you just say we’re not in Sunnydale anymore?”

“Yes.” That’s all he had to say on the subject. He picked up a half-empty bottle of mescal from the night stand and took a hearty swig. “I don’t care if I ever see that bloody place again.”

“Oh. . .but. . .but. . .why am. . .I-” Not dead? Not suffering from too much blood loss? Er, in your bed? “Why am I here?”

“That’s a good question, luv.” He took another drink from his bottle. He held it tightly, like a life line.

Great! He didn’t even have a plan. There was nothing more dangerous than a demon who acted on instinct. Especially a male demon. Wait a minute, no plan meant no imminent demise for her right? “Oh.”

“Oh? You’re not going to get hysterical or plead for your life?” Spike looked put out.

“Uh, no. Did you want me to?” Maybe he liked begging. She could do that if it meant she got to live longer.

He thought about it a moment. “No, not really. I feel another effin’ headache coming on. You screamin’ wouldn’t help it any.”

“Hangover?” Willow asked. Good, maybe he’ll pass out or get sick and then I can skedaddle.

Spike pressed his hand to his forehead. “Yeah, been having a lot of those lately since. . .”

Willow nodded. “Since Drusilla left.” She said softly, finishing his sentence for him.

Spike’s eyes grew angry. “Don’t even say her name!” He vamped out and snarled at her.

Willow shrieked and jumped off the bed, but couldn’t move very far because of the handcuffs. She pulled at them furiously, causing them to clank against the bedframe. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to upset you.” She tried desperately to placate the vampire.

He growled at her as his hands reached to drag her back onto the bed by her arm. He pressed her back into the mattress with his body as he gripped her chin with one of his hands. “Never say her name to me again! Understand?” Willow nodded as best she could with his fingers digging into her jaw. “You aren’t worthy to even speak of my goddess, my ripe wicked plum. . .” His face crumpled just as soon as his speech had begun and his arms went around her. He sought comfort in the embrace of her soft warm body, crying forlornly.

Willow’s heart was pounding so hard, she thought it might leap from her chest. “Y-y-you’re going to be alright.” She said shakily as she placed her free hand on the back of his head. Sad Spike was easier to deal with than mad, homicidal Spike. His hair was smooth and softer than it looked. A vampire is crying on you and you’re thinking about his hair?! Get a grip, Rosenberg.

“No, I’m not.” He moaned. “Never be alright again without her. I’m nothing without my black beauty.” Spike put his face into the crook of her neck, tears soaking her skin and making the barely closed wound sting. She flinched but then she felt his tongue lave her bite marks. That wasn’t as unpleasant as you might imagine.

For some reason the sight of his mark on her was comforting. Someone in the world belonged to him. Even if it was a mortal who was friends with a Slayer. He licked his lips as he pulled back to gaze down at her. “Do you know what you are?”

Willow gulped, her face blotched with hectic color. “L-L-Lunch?”

Spike surprised her by laughing. Really laughing. With her, not at her. He pulled back and sat beside her, a couple of tears running down his face.”You really don’t know, do you? Even though you’ve been working with the Slayer and the Watcher.”

“No, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Maybe he was going crazy. Well, it was understandable, after being with a mad woman for so long maybe it had rubbed off on him. . .and he’d never been what you would call well-adjusted.

Spike traced his mark with a fingertip. “Knew it when I bit you. I should have smelled it sooner, but I was drunk. Not thinkin’ straight,you know. You’re a vampire in the making, pet.”

“You want to make me a vampire?” Yipes! And here she was, tied and helpless. Why didn’t the Watcher’s have an emergency hotline number should could call? You know, the Vampire Intervention Team or something.

Spike raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t say that. I said, ‘you are a vampire in the making’. You have the ability to be a master vampire.”

She scrunched up her nose. “Well, yes. And every other human that walks around Sunnydale at night. All it takes is a bite and then he sucks your blood and you suck his-”

Spike rose one eyebrow and licked his lips as his eyes traversed her body. “Yes?” He waited but she was mute. “You were talking about sucking, I believe.”

“I don’t remember.”

“A likely story.” Spike took another drink. Maybe there was more to this quiet little country mouse than he had thought. After all, she had the genetics to be a master vamp. “You know, luv, vamps made that way can only be minions. Master vampires must have a special kind of blood.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t look too excited.” Spike chuckled again and reached for his bottle.

“It isn’t like winning the lottery or anything. Unless its like an evil lottery.” Willow said cautiously, she was rewarded by another laugh.

“Oh, but it is.” Spike’s eyes took on an expectant gleam, his tongue snaked out to outline his lower lip. “For both of us.”

“You’re going to turn me?” Can this day get any worse? Woah! Better not ask that, even mentally. Ask and you usually received. Especially near the Hellmouth.

“Not tonight.”

“Okay. Great. Not dying tonight. I can live with that.” Willow frowned. “Not that I was trying to pun, Buffy usually does that and she’s so-”

“You’re going to be my revenge.” Spike said, speaking to himself, a crafty gleam in his eye. “On all of ‘em. Drusilla, Slutty, and best of all. . .Angelus.”

Willow was confused. “I’m confused again. Revenge. . . ? How?”

Spike took another swig. “I’ve never made myself a childe, not in all my one hundred and fifty some years. Dru wouldn’t let me, said that she didn’t want to share me with anyone.”

“Okay. So, you’re going to turn me to. . .what? Make her jealous?”

“That’s right, little girl. You’re going to be my masterpiece, the most vicious vampire ever turned. I’ll turn you loose on all of them.”

“Aack!” Willow cried, unthinkingly. All she could see was her inevitable entry in the Watcher’s Journals with a picture next to her vitals. She’d probably be in leather or something equally provocative. Somehow, that bothered her more than being bitten and drained and then. . .no, the bitey and dying part was definitely worse.

“That bothers you?” Spike asked, still amused by her thought processes. At least she wouldn’t be an eternal bore.

“Well. . .yeah. Not big on the killing thing.”

“You will be.”

“But I won’t make a good vampire.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because. . .because. . .not big with the killing.”

“Yes, you said that reason already.” Spike said.

“Uh. . .I’m afraid of the dark.”

Spike laughed. “You won’t be with Big Bad looking out for you.”

“I don’t look good in black.”

“Yes, you do.” Spike reached out and touched the fluffy pink sweater. “You’d look better in it that this.”

“Hey, my mom bought me this!” Willow cried.

Spike nodded, apparently having a silent conversation with himself. “We’ll need to get you some new clothes, I can’t be seen with you in these things.”

“But you were yesterday.”

“Yes, but I was intending to use you and eat you. You’re family now. You’ll be my childe and I can’t be embarrassed by you.”

“Childe.” Willow shuddered. “Wow, you’ll be my dad.”

Spike flicked his cigarette ash on the floor. “No, I’ll be your sire.”

“Sire. Oh, because I’ll belong to your bloodline. The Order of Aurelius.” Willow was speaking hypothetically. She had no intention of pledging the ‘vampire fraternity.’ She was simply curious about the process.

“Exactly, pet.” He looked proud.

“So, you had this gene too?”

“Yes, but I was turned in the bad old days.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I was made in an alley. I had no training until after I was a vampire. That was before vampires were forced to limit their numbers.”

“Why are they doing that?”

“Not enough food.”

Food. . .people. “Oh, I see.”

“Don’t look so tense, luv. They’ll be plenty for us to eat.”

“Um.yeah.” Willow agreed. She was surprised to hear her stomach growl.

Spike heard it too. “You need some food.”

“I am hungry.” Now, that her death wasn’t imminent.

Spike looked at the phone doubtfully. “I doubt they have room service.”

“Oh, well, I could just run down to the corner store. It’ll be no problem, I’ll even-”

“I don’t think so.” Spike said, giving her a quelling look. “You’re staying in my site at all times. Can’t have you going off and blabbing this to Slutty.”

“Buffy.” Willow corrected automatically.

“You say Slayer, I say Layer.” Spike retorted.

“I suppose we could order a pizza and you could have a slice of mushroom while I have a slice of pizza man.”

“NO!” He smirked at her. “I mean. . .I’m not hungry. Nope, feeling fine.”

“We’ll have to break you of this morality habit you have, pet.” Spike said. “But, I’ll be gentle. . .for now.” He fished the key to her cuff out of his jeans pocket. “We’ll go to the vending machine down the hall because its still shady at this time of day. Just so happens that I want a Baby Ruth.”

“Okay.” Willow brightened. She looked at her hands. “Uh, thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, pet. This isn’t going to be easy.” He could almost hear the wheels in her mind churning. “Don’t even think of trying to get away. I will hunt you down to the ends of the Earth.”

“Why?” Willow asked, shocked by his demeanor.

“Because, pet, you’re my V.I.T.”

“You’re Victim Ingesting Treat?”

“You don’t know how rare you are, do you?” Spike laughed again. “Your one in a million, especially considering your history with Dru and Angel. They’ll both be jealous . . .and Buffy will be terrified of my Vampire In Training.”

6:30 pm, on the dot. Although Madi wasn’t usually the most punctual of people the butterflies in her stomach had her moving a bit faster than usual. She had opted to change into more casual garb after work, falling back on the standard. Flare leg jeans hugged her hips and thighs, moving out beginning at the knee, finally falling to cover the toes of a pair of denim pumas in ragged edges. Mud and salt stained the first few inches thanks to her short stature. Torso was hugged by a wifebeater that peeked out beneath the bright yellow t-shirt and black zip up hoodie she wore. She took a deep breath, raising her hand and knocking. It was a minute or so before the door opened.

Dimitri smiled at her, “Hey, right on time. You want a beer or something? He spoke as he turned, his voice echoing against the hardwood floors of his front hallway and getting more and more distant. She followed him, forcing a confident smile across her lips. He had invited her. She had simply accepted. She was not on the chopping block tonight, all she could do was keep breathing and try her hardest to behave like a normal human being.

“Yeah, a beer sounds great.” She spoke as she leaned against the left side of the door jam, hugging her notebook to her chest as she watched him move about the kitchen. Sweatpants hung off the round of his ass, the peaks of his shoulder blades pushing out against the back of his t-shirt. Teeth sunk into her lower lip as she imagined the cut lines of muscle rippling beneath his flesh. It had been a long time since she had dug her fingertips in the firmness of someone’s shoulders, felt the way warm, moist skin forced fingertips to stick and slide all at the same time. The loudness of the breath that escaped her nostrils startled her, a pale blush filling her cheeks as Dimitri looked over at her.

“You okay?” His smile was cock-eyed, a dimple denting one cheek but not the other. The butterflies were back again. So much for acting like a normal human being. When had she become such an uncontrollable pervert? She cleared the lump in her throat before speaking.

“Uh, yeah, sorry, I just zone out sometimes.” He nodded. He could have sworn he had caught her staring at him, but maybe she had just been staring into oblivion. He walked to her, handing her a beer before squeezing though the door. His closeness made her weak in the knees.

Any hope for studying soon dissolved, at least they both had copies of each other’s notes to refer to. After three beers, it was apparent Madi was a bit buzzed, her tongue garbling words here and there. She was all smiles and laughter, a million miles away from the silent, sullen girl who had stared out the window with eyes full of misery.

“So, yeah, I’m an amazing hockey player, a prize winning author, and a model you know, gotta cover all the bases.” He laughed at himself and so did Madi. He was glad she could appreciate the humor. “So what about you?”

“Well, I, too, am a model and a prize winning author, but I am also the best campaign manager in the history of American politics. I’m in text books.” Madi nodded. “Oh, and I saved my entire platoon in Vietnam.” She grinned and poked him playfully. “No, for real. What tricks can you do?”

“What am I? A Labrador?”

“Well, you certainly belong in the pound with that scraggly mutt chin of yours.”

“Scraggly mutt chin? Scraggly mutt chin?!? That’s it!” He dove on her as she squealed, rubbing the coarse hair of his beard’s beginnings against her cheek. She was lost in giggles, squirming delightfully as he pressed her hands into the couch beneath her.

“Owww.” The complaint was a half-hearted attempt at getting him off of her, his beard scratching her in the most enjoyable way. She was gasping for air so hard her sides were starting to hurt but it felt good to laugh like this, even if it did take three or four beers to get there. “I promise not to take revenge if you stop right now.” The words came in between gasps and giggles as she continued to fight him, her hounds now bound in one of his big mitts, his free hand harassing her abdomen with spasm inducing tickles.

“And if I don’t stop?” He grinned, still tickling her. He couldn’t deny that he enjoyed the way her torso rolled as she tried to get free. Her chest heaved with every breath and her hair had fallen out of its loose bun, several wild tendrils flying around her face, which was flushed, her eyes sparkling as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“I’ll…tickle you…until…you pee.yourself.” The words were breathy now; perhaps he should give her a break before she passed out or something. He slammed her hands above her head, holding her down with his weight before removing his hand from her waist and sitting up a bit. Her cheeks were raw from his scratching and she smiled as she panted. He had never seen her like that before, wild and alive, he couldn’t resist the opportunity as his lips rushed to meet hers. It only lasted a split second before he realized the gravity of the situation. Her body’s sudden rigidness brought him tumbling back to reality. Here was, holding down a half-drunk girl and kissing her without warning. Her lips were moist and warm; the taste of beer was less than wonderful though. It didn’t matter though; everything about it had seemed perfect, aside from her reaction. The wet heat of her, the feeling of her breathes against his cheek, the way her breasts pressed into his chest. All this in less than a second before he was sitting up and moving off of her as quickly as possible.

“I’m, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” He wasn’t sure where the sentence went from there. He didn’t mean to what? He hadn’t MEANT to kiss her, but he wasn’t sorry for that.

“Kiss me? Yeah, I know. It’s okay, no big deal.” She seemed embarrassed or hurt, neither of which he had ever seen in her before. She laughed, sitting back up and grabbing her coat. “I’m uh, gunna head out. Have a good night, see ya in class.” She waved, her face someplace distant as she threw on her coat and turned her back on him. His hand grabbed the tail of her coat, making her jolt back.

“No, I didn’t say that. I didn’t mean to scare you.” There, he had found the right words. She had seemed afraid. “Please, stay and let me prove I’m not just a pervert.” She sighed. It was a whole lot easier when it was a drunken mistake, but listening to him talk, she realized he wasn’t drunk in the slightest. This was that grey area. The area where lies and truth were easy to mix up depending on what she wanted to hear. “Madi, please. I promise, I won’t kiss you again.” Oh god, that made it a whole lot easier. She rolled her eyes before turning to face him. If that’s what he wanted, then she was willing to settle. It was a role she could play, one she had experience with.

“Okay.” She shrugged off her jacket, sitting down beside him again and grabbing his beer. She laughed to ease the tension, hoping he couldn’t tell the difference between the sound that had just left her throat and what she really sounded like. “But you better get me another beer.”

“With pleasure.” He pushed a smile for her, standing and moving into the kitchen. Had he just resigned from his pursuit? Had she just told him to? He shrugged; there was no point in stressing over something he couldn’t control.

The rest of the evening passed off without a hitch, except perhaps the hug good night. He had botched the hug good night, completely reluctant to let her go. She had stood there with an arm around him as he pressed her to his body, covertly filling his nostrils with the scent of her shampoo. Finally, she had patted his back gently, the most polite request for someone to let go. “Night, Madi.” He smiled as she waved, turning away as he shut the door and watching her through the window as she walked down the street.

Jane had me in her mouth. Agassi and Graf had come to the suite and were having a drink while Kournikova and Pete held hands looking very much in love. Sampras was asking Steffi as to how they were coping as a tennis couple and as journalists we were onto something special. Jane though was more at least for the moment. She sucked my cock as I felt the long bushy hair in her unshaven armpits. I caressed and nuzzled her hairiness and it turned me on like hell.

Suddenly on our monitors we saw that Agassi had stripped. His cock came into our vision. Even in its slack condition, we guessed that it must have measured at least eight inches and hung down against his thigh. He was circumcised and the large, purple colored mushroom head was clearly visible against his leg. Jane could hardly take her eyes off the monster in front of her on the screen. It was definitely the largest example of the male organ she had ever seen. She coughed and cleared her dry throat.

“And when its hard, it grows to a huge size!” said Steffi as she found her voice. “You should see it.” Was this the hard nosed Steffi Graf the ultimate tennis professional taking about Andre Agassi her husband’s massive penis which had earlier been enjoyed by the actress Brooke Shields.

Tell me Steffi, is it just penetration that is difficult, or are you able to pleasure Andre orally?” Anna asked out of curiosity. “Pete is big but not as big as Andre”. I saw Pete shuffle uncomfortably in his chair but Steffi moved across and took out his penis “c’mon Anna he is massive too look how thick his shaft is and how hairy he is” Steffi moaned, “I love hairy men. Andre used to shave his chest but I stopped him since we got married look how hairy he is now but Pete is much more hairy” Steffi said grabbing his testicles. Steffi removed her top and showed the jungle in her underarms. “We German’s are all hairy see my underarms how hairy it is” she said, “I noticed Anna that your armpits are unshaven too. Anna said “Since my operation I cannot shave my underarms as the doctor has advised against it till next October so that’s why my pits are unshaven” Lifting her arms and showing her dark armpit hair she said “Isn’t it sexy I am not as hairy as you Steffi but being hirsute I do have an awful lot of armpit hair”.

I whispered to Jane that she had more armpit hair than Steffi and Anna and I loved her bushy look. Anna said “Steffi how do you suck Andre’s massive dong”.

“I have tried to suck him off,” all traces of embarrassment now vanished. “But his cock gets so big, that after a while I have difficulty in getting the head in my mouth and he just has to finish by jerking himself off. But it is nice when he cums in my bushy armpits and he tastes really good! You want I should try now, so you can see?”

As Anna nodded in agreement, she watched as the hirsute Steffi quickly knelt in front of her husband and scooped his cock up into both hands. Andre groaned deeply as his sexy wife began to massage his hardening shaft and tug gently on his massive balls. Anna looked on in astonishment as his monster penis began to grow and grow in front of his wife’s face.

After only a few seconds of her caresses, Andre’ manhood was sticking out at almost a right angle. That the head had swelled and the shaft had lengthened to around ten or eleven inches. Before he was completely erect, however, Steffi opened her mouth and slid her glossy red lips over the glans. She had to open really wide to accept the girth even in a semi erect state and Anna could hear her gag slightly as Andre swelled even further in the confines of her mouth.

Pete moved her and started playing with the wild untamed locks of jet-black bushy hair in Steffi’s untrimmed underarms. He wet her hard armpit hair with his saliva and Jane exclaimed that this was probably the most erotic sight she had ever witnessed.

Andre was now at full attention wi