Peer Review

Recording One

Samantha took a long last drag from what was a menthol 100 cigarette. She kept her eyes closed until the smoke in her lungs demanded to be excised. Reluctantly, she blew the bluish smoke into the path of the single light source of the room, before extinguishing it in an overfilled ashtray. Her eyes slowly opened, showing the light blue of her irises. The pale of her face was in stark contrast to the dark and unnatural pink of her hair. Her small shoulders were bare, but for the straps of a black tee shirt that covered down to her belly button, but failed to mask a piercing there. Her hips were home to a pair of black hot pants whose waistline was low enough to reveal her lack of any undergarment. Long legs extended from her hips, leading to knees pressed against her chest, and bare feet perched on the edge of her chair. “Let’s get this over with”

“These interviews are voluntary; my notes said you signed up for them.” The interviewer never came into the light, and never told Samantha her name, both at the request of the girl.

“Yeah, no. My girlfriend signed us up for this. Something about fighting the good fight for gay and lesbian teen rights, or some such thing. I told her it’s just a study but whatever.” Samantha dug through her purse momentarily, and pulled out another cigarette, lighting it before the interviewer could object.

“Those are bad for you, you know.”

“You sound like my mom. I thought you had some questions you wanted to ask.” She leaned further back into her chair, slowly drawing from the oddly phallic shaped object of her addiction. She really was smoking too much lately.

“I do. May I record the interview? It makes it easier to keep things moving.”

Sam rolled her eyes, not that the interviewer could see. The only light of any real concern was coming from a window behind Sam. The woman could only see her in silhouette. “Fine, whatever.”

For a moment all Sam could hear was the sound of the interviewer rifling through her purse to find a digital recorder, then the small thump of the device being placed on the table. A new light source appeared, the device’s red ‘recording’ light. “Study titled ‘Teenage Same-Sex Relationships and practices, A Peer Review Study ’, Interview beginning, session one, May seventh, two-thousand-ten, eight-twenty-two PM. Subject has requested anonymity, and will be referred to as Jane Doe Two. Jane is Caucasian, middle income, fourteen years old.”

A moment of silence passed before Sam spoke, in a somewhat annoyed tone “Have you done this before? I mean, shouldn’t you be asking questions now?”

The woman clears her throat some “Of course. You mentioned your girlfriend before the interview began. When did you and she become an item? When did you get intimate with her?”

“Those are two different questions, lady.”

“I don’t see what you mean…”

“We started going together like, late last semester. But we were fucking long before that.” Sam coughed a little. “We started that before summer recess.”

“Who started it? Who made the first move?”

“Shit, um. A bottle of Southern Comfort made the first move.” She laughed a little to herself.

“Can you explain that?” The interviewer took on the professionally detached, yet curious tone she set out to take, though she wished she had taken it from the beginning.

“We were playing spin the bottle in her basement with her older sister and her sister’s friends.” Sam bluntly responded to the question. She had no real desire to spend a lot of time with this woman, but she just knew that short, nondescript answers weren’t going to cut it for long.

“Please, Jane. Tell me more about that party.”

Sam sighed softly. She really didn’t want to come off with an attitude, at least with that sigh in particular. “It wasn’t really a party. I was over at her house working on something for school, god knows what. Her parents left for the night and weren’t going to be back till really late. They left her big sister in charge. We didn’t finish the project until passed dinner time. My girlfriend… she wasn’t my girlfriend at the time… went down stairs to look for her sister, and then yelled for me to join her. Her sister picked the liquor cabinet lock, and swiped Jagermeister and a green drink…what the hell was it called?” She searched her memory as if trying to remember some small detail of life several decades ago, not a significant detail from only a few months ago. “Absinthe, that’s what it was.”

The interviewer interrupted “I thought you said a bottle of southern comfort was what you had.”

“Huh? Oh. No. Her sister had already drunk that, probably a night or two before.” Sam took a brief break in her narration to adjust her seating position, sliding one ankle under her knee, while letting the other leg dangle off the chair. She ashed her cigarette, and continued her story. “Her sister started pouring us shots. Two or three in, we started to play the game. It started innocently enough, but as we got more drunk the dares became more, um, sexy. And there were no truths by that point anyways. We were so drunk that we couldn’t remember our names.” She let out a little bit of a laugh, which sent another puff of smoke into the dim light. “First it was dares to kiss, then touch, then lick. It eventually turned into kind of an orgy.”

“And this was your first sexual experience?”

“What? God no. It’s twenty-ten, lady. I can’t remember ever having my virginity.” She followed that statement with another cough, a smoker’s hack, really. But even that was made to sound cute coming from her.

“Was this your first lesbian experience, then?” The interviewer had a slight tinge of confusion and curiosity in her intonation.

“No. No. I have had sex with girls and woman since I was...” Sam stopped to think about it for a moment “Seven? No Six. I’ve had sex with boys and men since I was about two, so I’m told.”

The interviewer had a momentary lapse in concentration and lost her detached, scientific calm. A note of concern rang in her voice “Oh my, so young? I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be. I’m not. I like sex, and I like having it with a lot of different people. I like giving them pleasure. Do you really think I would be so comfortable with what I like if they never exposed me to it early?” To Sam, that logic was ineffable.

“You might not have that attitude towards sex if you weren’t…” She stopped and considered her words carefully. “…If you were raised in a more traditional manor.” The interviewer was proud of herself a little for pulling that off. She finds the idea that this girl, ‘Jane’, was raped at such a young age, appalling, and she was baffled as to why the girl wasn’t outraged at the mistreatment she had endured.

Sam thought nothing of it. She loved it. “If that’s true, then I wouldn’t be the person I am now. I like who I am. Hell, the only memories I have of dad are of him making love to me. I wouldn’t trade those for anything.” She paused and took another long drag, and puts out the second cigarette. She reached down into a cooler and pulled out a soda, cracked the seal and sipped from it. After a moment of silence from the interviewer, Sam spoke up again. “Do you have more questions?”

“Yes, of course.” She struggled to regain her composure, and after a second, succeeded. “Tell me about your parents. You said that you only have a few memories of your father. Is he not in your life now?”

“No. He’s not. Mom came out when I was like five, and divorced him. He sent child support, but never came to visit. Mom said he never attempted to, but I don’t entirely buy that. He died a few years back. I found out surfing the internet. Mom knew but never told me. She didn’t want me to have any contact with him, I guess.” She took a gulp of soda, and set the can down on the table.

“Are you drinking beer?” The interviewer got up from her chair and started to head to the wall to hit the light switch, but was stopped by Sam.

“No! Don’t turn on the light. It’s not beer, see?” She held the can up in path of the dim light source. The woman inspected the can from afar, and returned to her seat. “Geez.”

“I apologize. Please continue. You were talking about your mother and father.” Her tone was sincere.

“Just… Don’t do that again.” Sam sighed heavily. “Dad… Like I said, I only remember making love with him a few times. Mom, well, my mother, she is kind of a control freak, especially since she got remarried.”

“What is your relationship like with your stepfather?”

“Huh?” Sam was confused by the question.

“Your mother got remarried. Her husband is your stepfather. How does he treat you?” The woman clarified. It seemed odd to her that the question could be anything but clear, but as she was discovering, her preconceptions of these interviews were far off.

“Oh. Oh no. I don’t have a stepfather. I have a stepmother. She’s great; nice, submissive except to my brother and sisters.”

“How is she with you?”

“She is… um… part of the reason she married mom is because of me. Mom and I met her a while ago, and we made love. She is my lover as much as she is my mother’s.” Sam sipped her soda again, and noticed another pause and a palpable discomfort in her interviewer. “These interviews, they were supposed to be about teen lesbian sex…”

“…Teen same-sex relationships and sexual practices…” The interviewer corrected Sam.

“Yeah, that. Do you want me to go into more detail about sex with my family?” Sam asked earnestly. She was not trying to sass the woman, and her tone was inquisitive.

“Well, the …uh… study is only about teen relations…” The woman protested, in vein.

“But my story has sparked your interest, hasn’t it? If you want me to tell you what sex was like for me at seven with my mother and her wife, or with my little sisters and stepbrother, you can ask that too. I may not want to be here, but I did promise to answer all your questions, and it’s not like I’m ashamed of my life.” Sam had to make a similar proclamation to her girlfriend not too long ago during their first sleep over at her house.

“I don’t suppose that it’s too far out of the scope of the study to be irrelevant.” She considered what this has evolved into for a moment. “I believe that we would benefit from a short recess, if that is ok with you?”

“It’s fine.” Sam took her pack of cigarettes from the table, and offered one to the interviewer while she stopped the recorder. “Want one?”

The woman hesitated for a moment, but took one, and lit it with a lighter she had with her. “How do you get these, from the Internet?”

“Nope. The gas station on the Indian reservation doesn’t card, and they just don’t care about ‘white man’s law’, to hear Tommy say it. I honestly think he wants me to blow him or something. It is probably why he sells them to me.” She chuckled to herself a bit. “He should just ask if that’s what he wants.”

For a few seconds the room became much brighter than it was. Sam deducted that a car was pulling into the parking spot in front of the motel room, and she was correct. She was not worried about being identified by the woman; she wisely took a seat with her back to the window, and was invisible to her interviewer.

For the fleeting seconds that the headlights were on, she could get a good look at the woman interviewing her. She was not as old as she had thought, perhaps twenty-five at the oldest. A college student, she figured. The woman’s hair was blonde, and reflected the light quite readily. Her face was harder to make out. The woman’s body was trim, and she liked to show it off, in Sam’s estimation, judging by the rather form fitting business-casual blouse she was wearing. What Sam wasn’t expecting, but wasn’t shocked by, was the placement of the woman’s hand.

The interviewer had apparently taken a liking to the narrative of Sam’s life, because she had hiked up her skirt and was casually rubbing her lips through her panties. White panties, that showed exactly how wet the woman was, Sam noted to herself. The woman’s gaze was locked at some nondescript point on the ceiling as she smoked, and did not notice Sam’s inspection of her, nor was she concerned with the fact that, for a few seconds, she was entirely visible. Sam smiled to herself as the darkness returned.

Recording Two

Sam allowed the woman a few minutes to smoke, while reading a few text messages that came on her phone while the interview was taking place. These messages were met with groans and giggles alike. After five minutes, sufficient time to smoke a cigarette, Sam put her phone away and shifted in her chair to get comfortable again. “Are you ready?”

“I am if you are.” She replied, not realizing until too late that it was a circular statement. She had been the one to insist on a break, not Sam, and Sam had been the one asking to resume the interview.

“I am.” If tone could express how far back Sam had rolled her eyes, the woman guessed Sam would be looking at her own brain.

The woman started the recorder again. “Jane Doe Two, Interview one, now eight-fifty-eight PM. Jane, before we continue discussing your sex life and relationships, I would like to know more about you. What activities you participate in at school, what you do out of school, what you do for fun.”

“Fun, other than sex, you mean?” Sam’s question was an answer in and of itself.

“Yes, other than sex.”

“Well, I don’t do anything in school that I don’t have to; not in a while at least. It’s too clique-y. I find most of the other girls annoying and petty. When I hang around with them, I feel like I’m turning into them, and I don’t like it. As for after school, I do martial arts three times a week. Nothing too extreme, I practice jujitsu at the place by the mall, Master Rodrigo’s.”

“Has anything in particular driven you to learn, uh, jujitsu? To be honest, you’re the first girl I have interviewed that is training to hit people. It may be relevant, it may not.” The woman found herself babbling a little. She was far more interested in hearing about Sam’s sex life, but had to continue the interview as dictated by the study.

Sam started to sound a little bored. It wasn’t that she wanted to dwell on sex, but she had to answer that question frequently, to her frustration. “First off, there really isn’t a lot of punching or kicking. Its more throws and holds; grappling. You hold a person until they submit, become compliant… or until you break one of their bones.”

“You don’t find that sexual?” She cursed herself, in her mind, for asking that.

“I have used some of what I learned in bed, if that’s what you mean, but no. When I’m practicing, I don’t see who I’m rolling with as a sex partner, I see them as the enemy.” Some amusement was apparent in Sam’s voice. “I think it would be more productive to go back to the main topic.”

“We will. But, you didn’t answer the initial question. Did something happen that urged you to train in martial arts?” The woman sensed that there is a gold mine here, if she dug deep enough, though she knew that it could blow up in her face if she pushed too hard.

“Natural affinity I guess. That’s what Master Rodrigo says anyways.” Her response was flat, and a little telling. She was unwilling to talk about it, right now at least.

“Ok. The next series of questions regard specific sexual encounters. Please be as descriptive as possible when answering. If at any point you need to take a break, we will stop, and resume if and when you are ready. Ok?” The woman waited for Sam to give the go-ahead, but only got a monosyllabic sound that she took as an ok. “I need you to describe the first same-sex sexual experience you’ve had. Be sure to include what you did, what you saw, how you felt, and if applicable, any smells or tastes you experienced.”

“Are you pulling my leg with that?” Sam laughed a little. “Is that really part of the study? What it tasted like?” The woman reached out towards Sam, handing her a piece of paper, with instructions on conducting the interview. The paper included the question. “Well, damn. You have a fun job. Ok.”

Sam shifted her weight again. “If we do a second session, I’m picking a better motel. These chairs suck.” She thinks for a moment. “It wasn’t too long after my dad left the picture. I had turned six a month or so before. This was before my sister was born by about six months. Mom was pregnant but didn’t know it yet. We were home alone, and the power was out. It was February, so it was dark really early. Mom had candles out all over the place, and the fireplace was going. I had already taken my bath for the evening, which was hell on my mom, cause I was afraid of the dark, and the candle light didn’t reach the tub that well. She had to hold me down and scrub me; I guess that’s what got her in the mood.

“Anyways, after my bath, I was sitting in the living room in front of the fire, wrapped in a towel. I didn’t want to go into my dark room to get dressed, and mom had had enough of me acting like a six year old. I was staring at the flames for a long time, and didn’t notice when she kneeled down beside me. When I finally did look up at her, she didn’t say anything; she just pushed me on my back, and held me down. Years of experience pleasuring my father gave me the instinct to lay back and spread my legs.

“I remember her smelling musky, something I hadn’t smelled before. My dad’s cock had a musky scent, but she was different. I didn’t know what it was; I know now that it was her cunt. But back then, it was all new to me. She kissed me like dad did, then she did something that dad never did. She kissed down my belly, rather hastily, even by my six year old standards, and started to lick softly at my outer lips. I remember moaning, and I remember her shushing me. She licked me for a little while, stopping only to tell me to make sure I was paying attention, and I was.

“She didn’t drive me to orgasm. I don’t think she knew that dad had been fucking me for a long time, and I could orgasm rather easily. I think she thought I was too young. She was wearing her bed robe by then. When she stopped, she sat down and opened her robe. She took my head in her hands and guided me to her cunt. I remember the smell. It was a mix of sweat, the smell of a wet cunt, and something floral and sweet. Her cunt had a glaze of something on it. I didn’t know what it was until she pushed my mouth on it. It was sweet honey; she had put it on herself to make sure I licked her. She didn’t know I would have anyways, but the sentiment was nice.

“I slowly lapped my tongue over her lips and on her groin a little. I licked where she put the honey. I remember thinking it a little odd that she didn’t want me to lick the throbbing pink thing between her lips. Dad always liked his throbbing pink tip licked and sucked. But I continued to lap at my mom’s cunt until all the honey was gone. She whimpered in panic a little, probably thinking I wouldn’t continue, but I went right in for her clit, licking at it happily. It was sweeter than I imagined it would be. The taste wasn’t the honey, but her natural flavor.

“I poked my little tongue into her cunt a few times, by accident really, but she quivered and moaned loudly when I did, so I made a point of doing it more, between sessions of passionate lapping at her clit. My hands were always at my side, this first time around. Dad had always told me exactly what he wanted, and every time we had sex, I was to do that, until he told me to do something different.

“Every few minutes, mom’s cunt would gush into my mouth, and being daddy’s little trained cocksucker, I swallowed like a good girl. I guess I was eating her out for several hours. My jaw never started to hurt like it did when I first started to suck off dad. I don’t know how many times mom came. She never did allow me to cum, though I was used to that. Dad only let me cum when he was fucking my cunt, not my ass, mouth or hands.”

Sam sighs a little, a sigh of blissful reminiscence. “That was a long time ago though, and I was young. I might be forgetting things.”

The interviewer is a little short of breath. “That’s… that’s fine. We only need what you can remember.”

Sam sniffs the air discreetly, and tries to stifle a little giggle. “Are you ok? Do you need a break?”

“Five minutes would be…a good idea.” She reaches out and fumbles with the recorder, stopping it. “Can I have another one of your cigarettes?”

Sam smirked to herself. “Those are bad for you, you know.” She handed the woman a cigarette, and lit it for her this time. “How many stories do you need from me?”

“Well, we are trying to catalog as much sexual experience of gay and lesbian teens as we can. I don’t know what the study is trying to prove, but I do know that we need as many discreet accounts of sexual activity as we can get. Then, someone will go through and count each instance of a particular sexual act.”

“It sounds like you do have the fun job of the study.” Sam was just making conversation. “Do you need only same sex stories, or is straight needed too?”

“Ideally, they want me to get a record of every time you have had any sort of sexual contact with anyone or anything, including yourself. I don’t think we have time to go through every time you’ve masturbated though.”

The headlights of the car come on again, this time the car was leaving. Sam could see the interviewer’s face much more clearly this time. Her features were smooth, and her complexion was perfect. She had, at some point in the darkness, slid her panties up her thighs a few inches and had rubbed her clit rather firmly. She was not touching herself for the few seconds the lights were on, but Sam saw the intense red the woman’s cunt had become with abuse.

Recording Three

“Let’s do something else.” Sam fidgeted in her seat, as she was getting quite uncomfortable.

The woman was surprised by the girl’s request. “What did you have in mind?” She set aside her paper work as she considered deviating from the format.

“I’ve been doing all the talking. Besides getting certain sexual favors from my girlfriend for cooperating, I’m not getting much out of this. You’re getting your interview for your study, and a little more.” Her tone was not sassy.

“Maybe we should continue this discussion, on the record. Is that ok?” The woman waited for a response. Sam only nodded, which the woman could barely make out. She ultimately started the recorder. “Jane Doe Two, Interview one, Time now nine-twenty PM. Jane, you asked me to do something else. If I understand correctly, you want to ask me questions?”

“Yeah. I have been doing all the talking.” She repeated, in a robotic tone. “I’m not getting anything out of this. You are, and more than just material for your study.”

“What do you mean?” The woman asked curiously. She knew that she was caught, but did not let that be known in her voice.

“You were touching yourself. I could see when a car passed.” The two fell silent for a few minutes. “Did you enjoy my story?” Sam broke the silence, and hoped that the woman would break from her shell.

“I did.” She cleared her throat. “I found it quite erotic.”

“Did you find any other, um, subject’s, interviews erotic?”

“To be honest, most of the interviews I have conducted were boys, or…” She stopped a moment, to consider her words. “…Fake lesbians.”

“What do you mean by fake lesbian?”

“Uh, um. Fake lesbians are teen girls who, not through self-discovery, but by trend, or to piss off their parents, decided to date another girl.” She squirms in her chair a bit. “I mean, there are some girls that are lesbians, and need that kind of free license to explore their own sexuality to discover that they are, indeed, lesbians. But most of these girls are just sluts. They change sex partners and their proclaimed sexual orientation almost monthly.”

“I’ve met some in school. I slept with a lot of them too.” She interjected. “But were there any other interviews you found as erotic as mine?”

“I did. It was another Jane Doe. I can’t tell you what she told me though.” She wanted to tell her though. Thinking of that story made her soak the chair with more of her arousal.

Sam frowned a little to herself. She wanted to hear what made this woman hot, partly so she could pick more interesting stories, and partly for her own gratification. The situation was salvageable to her, though. “How did the story make you feel?”

“I felt perverted. I felt dirty. I feel dirty.” She emphasized the last statement. “The story wasn’t superficial. There was real passion between Jane and her partner. Some of the story’s content really resonated with me, too.”

“Can you tell me what that was, without giving the details of the story?” Sam started to get much more interested in the woman. She hoped that it was nothing mundane, nothing that she thought of as ‘everyday’, pedestrian, things that normal girls do... things that normal lesbian teenage girls, who broadcast their sexuality, do, at least.

The woman paused for a long moment, considering what she was telling a fourteen year old girl, and her colleagues via the recording. “The story featured bestiality and sexual domination.”

“Wow.” Sam thought for a second. She was sure that the other Jane Doe in question was her girlfriend. She was not about to tell the woman. She was a little disappointed, though. She would not be able to tell that story without giving that little piece of information to the woman. She would hold on to that for now. “Why did that resonate with you?”

“Maybe we should stop the recorder.” The woman was getting more uncomfortable with the way the interview had turned.

“Why?”

“I, um, don’t want my girlfriend to hear this. She is working on the project and would have access to all the materials.”

“Well, you already said there is something that you want to hide from your girlfriend, so you will have to edit the recordings to keep that from her anyways. Why not keep the recording going. And trust me, it’s better that your girl know what soaks your panties, even if it is weird. You never know, she might be into it too.”

“Are you sure you’re only fourteen?” The woman was surprised by how logical the girl was.

“I’m asking the questions now.” Sam responded in as menacing a movie-villain voice she could manage, followed by a giggle fit.

“You are fourteen.” The woman confirmed this fact to herself, though did say so aloud. “I lost my virginity, or I should say, my hymen was broken, by my first girlfriend’s golden retriever.”

“The next series of questions regard specific sexual encounters…” If the interviewer could see her, she would have seen an evil grin on Sam’s face.

“I set myself up for this, didn’t I? You want to hear about the sex I had with my girlfriend and her dog?” The woman sounded reluctant, and defeated.

“…In explicit detail.” The interviewer saw the silhouette of the girl’s hands move to her hips, and slide down her legs. The girl held her arm to the side, showing that she was holding her hot pants, and was thus, bottomless.

“It will cost you another smoke.” The woman took a cigarette out of the girl’s pack, which was still on the table, and lit it. “I was sixteen, and my girlfriend was seventeen.” She cleared her throat, leaned back. She took the girl’s recent disrobing as permission to touch herself openly, at least for this portion of the interview. She lowered her hand and started to softly stroke her slit. “The dog was three. It was late August, and I had already graduated… I finished school early. She was going to be going back to school in a few weeks, and I was going off to college soon after that. We were spending the month together at my parent’s cabin. Mom didn’t want to let us stay in the cabin alone, but dad insisted that it would be fine.

“My dad didn’t understand what a lesbian is. He still doesn’t, really. The concept of same-sex partners escapes him. He isn’t a bad man, and he is not the type to judge people on things that are as outwardly trivial as who has sex with whom. He just didn’t understand. Mom did understand, and while she didn’t ever tell me she had a problem with me being gay, I think she hoped it was a phase, and I would marry a nice boy.

“It was three days till we had to go home. We were girly-tomboys, if that makes sense. We would put on a lot of makeup, wear the latest fashions, dress to the fad of the day, and we would go fishing, and hiking, and she would go hunting. Up until then, we had been enjoying the outdoors during the day, and enjoying each other’s bodies at night. She never let the dog into the cabin until that day. She kept her dogs outside most of the time, only letting them in if it was storming out. That morning, a cold front blew in and brought heavy thunder showers with it.

“The cabin had electricity, but we didn’t have a TV, and we didn’t bring our computers, so we were bored. We had sex after breakfast, nothing too out of the ordinary for us. She tied me to the bed, put my panties in my mouth, and used a strap on dildo to fuck my ass. When she wanted to cum, she took the panties out of my mouth and straddled my face, so I could lick her to orgasm. She would then press a vibrator to my clit, or occasionally lick me to orgasm. We did this, and similar things a few times a day that summer, but that day we committed ourselves to only taking breaks from sex for food.”

“Sounds like a fun day…” Sam interjected. She was rubbing herself softly for the first few minutes of the woman’s story, but by the time she interrupted, she had pushed her fingers into her cunt, and was steadily fucking herself.

The woman was pinching her clit lightly as she told her story. “It was a fun day.” She sighs softly to herself. “For lunch, she had me sit in her lap, and feed her. When she let me eat, she had me on all fours, on the floor, eating from her dog’s bowl. That’s when he… the dog… took an interest in me. He pushed his snout against my pussy and sniffed at it. He poked me a few times. She didn’t have a problem with her dog and I, until I moaned.

“She pulled my head from the bowl by my hair and put it in her lap. My face was pressed against her pussy. She said that I was hers, and I would only moan when she said I could. We had that kind of relationship. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. She was my mistress. She told me to please her, and I did. I used my tongue, and pressed it into her hole, my nose was pressed against her clit, which let me stimulate her by shaking my head a little. She ground her pussy against my face aggressively, which made it harder to make her cum, but I think that was the idea. She gave a few commands to her dog apparently, but I wasn’t really paying attention to those. I was shocked when I felt his paws on my inner thighs. His cock slammed into me.

“It hurt, but it was the kind of pain that she gave me, a pain that felt good. He wasn’t inside me very long. He thrust inside me for only a minute or two before he came. She took much longer to get off. She instructed the dog to fuck me several more times before she took pity, held still, and allowed me to make her cum.

“When we were in school, she liked to watch me pleasure other people. She would have me go down on other girls, and occasionally, if she felt particularly dirty or if she wanted to punish me, she would have me blow a boy. That night she had me pleasure her dog. She held my head in place for the dog to thrust into my mouth. When the dog came again, his cock ballooned at his base. She made sure my mouth was over that bulge when he came. I felt dirty, and perverted. I wasn’t humiliated. But most of all I felt intense love for her.

“When we were in bed, or in private, I was hers. I belonged to her. She could do with me, whatever she desired. She never wasted that right. Every time she used me, I loved her more.” She sniffles a little. “Outside, it was different. We were equals. In the school halls between classes we would treat each other like we would anyone else. Nothing said or done ever carried over to when we were in private, in that she would never punish me for things I said when we were normal. We kept in touch when we went on to our separate schools, and I still talk to her from time to time. None of my relationships since then have been dominant-submissive.”

Sam let out a soft grunt, followed by a low groan. It wasn’t loud enough to disturb the woman, but it did indicate to both that Sam had cum.

“I am glad you enjoyed my story. But if you want more, you will have to agree to more sessions. I’m limiting them to one per session”

“You’re mean.” Sam mumbles to herself a little. “…Fine. I will do more interviews.” She sighs. “Can we take another break?” The woman does not respond verbally, she simply turns the recorder off.

Recording Four

Samantha played a video game on her cell phone as she sat, and waited in a hotel room. The previous day, the interviewer and Sam decided to call it a night, and resume the interviews the next day. Sam had received an email with the time and location of the second interview. She was on time, the woman was late. She sat in the darkness, which would have been total darkness but for the light of her phone, wearing a bikini bottom and a black concert tee shirt bearing the logo of a metal band, Arch Enemy.

The woman was almost an hour late when she opened the door. She was not in the professional attire that she had worn the previous night, but instead she wore something more casual; tight blue jeans and a tee shirt emblazed with the name and likeness of the female pop-star du jour.

“You’re late.” Sam spoke without looking away from her phone. Her feet were slung over one arm of a large, comfortable looking chair while she leaned against its opposite.

“The traffic was abysmal.” The woman shut the door, and then used her own cell phone as a flashlight to find another chair. She picked a third floor hotel room for the second session, as to not have any headlights shine into the windows. What she failed to realize was that a third floor hotel room with its lights off would get almost no ambient light. She stopped in a moment of thought. “The entire city is in gridlock, how did you get here on time?”

“I’m fourteen. I got here the same way I get anywhere, I walked.” Her voice was cold. It was how any fourteen year old girl would react after being left in the dark, quite literally, for an hour, where the only entertainment of any value was watching the power meter on her cell phone slowly drain.

The woman discovered that Sam was barefoot when she tripped over her shoes, which Sam had left in the middle of the floor. She stumbled into a chair, and felt around for a table to set her purse and recorder on. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. My girlfriend will think I spent this time talking to you, really opening up, and helping the study. I should get at least a rim-job for that.” She kept the same cold, monotone voice.

The woman made a slight sound of astonishment. She didn’t even know what a rim-job was at fourteen, and she isn’t that much older than Sam. She had experimented with it with a girlfriend in her junior year of college, but even doing it in the shower and after giving each other cleansing enemas, she still couldn’t get passed the idea of it. “I was surprised that you decided to have another interview today. It’s Saturday. I figured you and your girlfriend would want to spend the today together, seeing as you lost Friday night to the interviews already.”

“She has Shadowrun tonight. So I could either be bored at her house while she played a game I don’t like with a bunch of people I don’t know, or be bored here.”

“What’s a shadow-run?” The woman hoped that she was not so out of touch that she didn’t know some hot new thing that kids only a decade younger than her were doing, but something told her that she needn’t worry too much about that in this case.

“It’s a game. Google it.” Sam let a hint of frustration color her voice.

“Perhaps I will later. Are you ready to begin?”

“Ready as I will ever be.” She scooted up in her seat, and sat almost correctly in the chair. Almost correctly, because she put her feet on the table, which came dangerously close to smashing the recorder; not that either knew. Sam put her phone in her purse.

The red light on the recorder came on. “Study titled ‘Teenage Same-Sex Relationships and practices, A Peer Review Study ’, Interview beginning, session two, May eighth, two-thousand-ten, nine-thirty-five PM. Subject alias is Jane Doe Two. Thank you, Jane, for agreeing to a second series of interviews.”

“Whatever. It’s cool. Do you have questions, or do you want to get right down to stories?”

“Last session, we started a little fast. My first question got us talking about your sex life. That isn’t a problem, though it would be helpful to know more about you, or rather, your life outside of the bedroom.”

“We are only using bedroom as a metaphor for sex right? Cause, I spend almost all my time in my bedroom, naked or not.” To Sam, metaphor, simile, and euphemism were blunt objects, wielded by intellectuals like armies wielded nuclear weapons. She would later see the irony in thinking of them like that.

“Yes, Jane, it’s a metaphorical bedroom.” The woman rolled her eyes at the girl, though in total darkness, the girl couldn’t possibly see. “Why do you spend most of your time in your physical, non-metaphorical bedroom?”

“Cause mom is a total bitch. Don’t get me wrong, I love her… kind of. I think, years ago, Nana cursed her and said something like ‘I hope YOU have a daughter and she turns out JUST LIKE YOU!’ Then I was born, and I am just like my mom.”

“That would make you, by your own logic…” The woman’s musings were interrupted by Sam.

“Yeah, a total bitch. We’re the same damn person. Which is why I get along with her wife spectacularly, and she gets along with my girlfriend well.” There is a little bit of an attitude in her tone. It isn’t directed towards the woman, but towards the idea. There is also a hint of pride in her voice.

“How well does your mother get along with your girlfriend?”

“They haven’t fucked, if that’s what you’re getting at; though that would make for an interesting show.” Sam muses on that thought for a moment, before continuing. “No, they do that mother-daughter sappy girl talk stuff. She tried that with me when I first got my period, but I wasn’t having any of it.”

“How is your relationship with your stepmother?”

“It’s… fine. We don’t do much together anymore. Yes, that is a sexual reference. Outside of sex, we get along; we don’t argue, we have a lot of overlapping interests, we listen to the same music, go to the same concerts, and when we get home, we don’t see a lot of each other.”

“Is that because you spend much of your time in your bedroom?”

“That and she has kids to raise. I have two younger sisters, and a younger brother. As much trouble and fun as I am, they have to keep those monsters in line sometimes.” Sam shrugged verbally, if that is possible.

“You don’t spend time with your siblings, either?”

“…Not when they are in brat-mode, no. There are times that they can be sweet, and submissive, and fun, but that’s not the norm. And, yes, I did just make another sexual reference.”

“I think we have established that you have a sexual relationship with your entire immediate family. I have been filtering our conversations through that lens.” The woman paused to clear her throat, and to put the conversation back on track. “What did you do today? Did you spend most of your time in seclusion?”

“Well, no. My girlfriend was over for most of the day, and we hung out in my bedroom. There was some sex, but not a lot. We talked, mostly, and goofed around on Facebook.”

The woman slouched a little in her chair. It would take a lot more thinking than the previous twenty-four hours had allowed her to get through an entire session with Sam without constantly bringing up sex. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy the sex stories this girl had been telling, but it was starting to feel a little one dimensional. “If a better segue could be planned, I could not have done it. Please talk about the sex you had with your girlfriend this morning, or afternoon.”

“Mind if I have a smoke while I tell you?”

The woman nodded then remembered that it was totally dark, unlike the previous day. “By all means, you may.” The woman waited until Sam was lighting the cigarette to light her own. “You’re going to smell like smoke when you get home. Will that be anything new?”

“No, that’s status quo for the past couple of years.” She took a long drag from her cigarette. “How the hell did she end up naked this morning?” She thought out loud. “Oh yeah. Ok, so right after I smuggled lunch into my bedroom, we were fucking around on instant messenger, getting on camera with some people from school. See, she’s on the chess team or something and has a lot of nerdy friends. We were teasing some of them by showing some skin, but getting redressed before we bore all. It’s cruel, but it will eventually pay off for them, if they play their cards right.”

“You’re planning on getting nude on camera for them?” The woman could not leave that last point unquestioned.

“I’m planning on blowing them, with my girlfriend’s permission, of course. Anyways, after an hour of that, that last guy we were doing that with had their mom walk into the room, and he shut off his messenger pretty quickly. We were starting to get bored with that, so we didn’t start it again with someone else, and we were still half naked. I didn’t feel like finding my clothes again, so I stayed that way, and so did she. I made some stupid comment about something we were watching on YouTube, and she made a face at me, and lifted her bra, in the same spirit as the teasing we did earlier.”

Sam coughed heavily a few times. “Why the fuck did I start smoking?” She takes a moment to catch her breath. “Where were we?”

“Your girlfriend was flashing you.” The woman thought about making a nagging comment, but stopped when she remembered that in order to make such a comment, she would have to take a cigarette out of her mouth.

“Yeah. She lifted her bra up, and wasn’t fast enough putting it back down. I leaned in and lightly bit one of her nipples. That was my way of being mean back to her, because she has a total nipple fetish. If someone touches her nipples, or if she touches someone else’s nipples, she gets turned on. I mean panties drenched… well, slightly damp, turned on. I wasn’t going to continue, but she made a pathetic pouty face that I can’t say no to.

“When I agreed to finish her off, she stood up all giddy and almost sprinted to the bed, which is a feat since it’s a small room. She kicked the blankets off the bed and lay on the sheets, wiggling out of her panties. She didn’t shave that morning, so she had a tiny patch of stubble on her pussy. I climbed into the bed, and was kneeling between her feet. I told her ‘If I get rug burn on my face, you will live to regret it.’ She stuck her tongue out at me for that.

“I leaned down, perching my elbows behind her knees, and lowered my face to her crotch. I like to tease her so I started to lick on her inner thigh a little, while nuzzling her pussy. I kissed it a few times, then moved like I had done all I was going to do. When she whimpered, I licked her taint.”

“Her taint?” The woman inquired.

“I don’t know what it’s called. That spot between her ass and pussy. That’s what I licked.”

“Please continue.”

“She really likes that. She tells me that it makes her spine vibrate, but no matter how much I lick, rub, or press vibrators to that spot, I can’t make her cum only touching that; she just gets more and more aroused. So naturally, I spent a lot of time licking and gently caressing that spot this afternoon, only letting a few stray licks touch her lips and clit. When I did, though, her entire body shook, and she had to fight hard not to moan loudly.”

“How do you know she had to fight moaning?”

“She bit through my favorite pillow. She had a corner of it in her mouth to muffle the sound. She still isn’t used to the fact that it’s ok for mom and, uh, my step mom to hear us having sex. After she spit out the cloth and down, she begged me to just let her cum. I moved my attention to her clit, and licked at it. I didn’t get a chance to suck at it at all since she came pretty quickly after I started. She is a very dry girl. She barely gets wet, even when intensely aroused, and she most defiantly does not squirt when she comes. Hell, I have to really lube up toys I use with her. The same toys are slick enough for me to use when they, and I, are mostly dry.”

“Is that unusual to you; the lack of ejaculation?”

“Well, mom squirts. She was my first woman, and I guess I expect all girls to squirt because of it.” Sam starts to cough again. “I need a break.”

“Ok.” The woman simply responds, and she shuts off the recorder.

Recording Five

Sam stared into the mirror over the sink for a good minute after having washed her face. Her eyes met with those of her reflection, and she stared coldly, disgusted at the girl that she saw. She fought to break the gaze and the building frustration she was feeling, and finally managed to lock her eyes on the drain plug of the sink instead. Her hands stayed locked on the sides of the sink, she closed her eyes, and shook her head slightly. Sam shut off the light, returned to the blackened room, and felt her way back to her chair.

“Are you ok?” The woman let her voice fill with empathy.

Sam coughed again. “Yes.” She squirmed in her seat a little to find a comfortable position. “Let’s just get another interview in, and call it a night.”

“…As you wish.” The woman reached down and started the recorder. “The time is now ten-forty PM, continuing session two with Jane Doe two. Let’s talk about your siblings. What is your relationship like with them? Do you get along? Do you fight?”

“With my step siblings, we get along good enough, I guess. My little sister and I, well, I guess we act like sisters towards each other, judging on what I see with my girlfriend and her sister; bickering, backstabbing, anything but outright fist fighting.”

The woman recognized her own relationship with her sister in that. “Why do you think you get along with your stepbrother and stepsister well, then?”

Sam has to think about that for a long while. “I don’t know. I know that we never really did fight. They, my parents, never tried to force us to be close, and I don’t mean that in a sexual way, like Mom did with me and my sister. They’re also a lot closer to my age.”

“Your biological sister is about six and a half years younger than you, correct?” That was confirmed with a monosyllabic sound from Sam. “How much older are you than your step siblings?”

“I’m a little over a year and a half older than them.”

“So your step siblings are fraternal twins?”

“…Kind of. They are freaks of nature, Semi-identical twins. They once explained it to me, and it’s something like the egg split before their mom and dad had sex, then both those eggs were fertilized, so what their mom contributed was identical, what their father contributed was not, but there was some overlap between them… and that’s where they lost me.” Sam sounded frazzled. She only had a rudimentary understanding of science, and liked to keep it that way.

“If that is indeed what happened, I would imagine that it is quite rare.”

“I guess.” Sam, again, verbally shrugged. “They look enough alike, and act alike too.”

“That’s interesting. I would have thought that the gender difference would have encouraged them to further differentiate themselves.”

“It would, if he didn’t act like a girl. See, we are all the same size, which means that my step sister borrows my cloths all the time, and has since they moved in. A few years ago, though, my step brother started borrowing my clothes. Back then I was a total girly-girl, so I had a lot of skirts and dresses and a lot of purple stuff; I hate pink except for neon hot pink, obviously.”

“Why is that obvious?” The woman was curious as to what she missed that made Sam’s love, or at least tolerance, of hot pink so obvious.

“It’s the color I dyed my hair, duh.” That sounded exactly as it should; with attitude, annoyance, and sarcasm.

“Jane, I have never seen your hair. We have only met in near total darkness.”

“Oh.” Sam felt embarrassment flow over her. “Sorry.”

The woman smiled to herself. “So your step brother started to wear your clothing?”

“He did. It was a little weird at first, but now, it’s normal to me. We all wear the same sorts of clothing. He acts like a girl, dresses like a girl, keeps his hair like a girl, and well, his body is girlish. I really hope puberty doesn’t destroy that; he seems to really like it.” Sam stops to think for a second. “He wants to be a girl, and does everything to make others see him as a girl, and he is sexually attracted to girls. Does that make him a lesbian?”

“Um…” The single syllable was all the woman can say before Sam continued.

“He does not want to get his cock chopped off, but everything else he can do to make himself more of a girl he has been trying to do.”

“I don’t know. That’s a philosophical question I haven’t studied. There are entire fields of psychology and medicine dedicated to sexual reassignment, and I have not looked that deeply into them. But, if he identifies himself, excuse me, herself as a lesbian, who am I to argue or judge. What about your stepsister; is she a tomboy?”

“Not really. She is defiantly more masculine than my brother, but that’s not hard. I am more masculine than him. She acts and dresses like a girl.”

“What about her sexual interests? Is she a lesbian?”

“I don’t really know. She is sexually interested in me and our brother. She is most defiantly not interested in her or my mother, or my little sister. She hasn’t made a point of pointing out anyone she finds attractive so I can’t judge from that. I don’t think she identifies herself like that; I think she, much like me, is attracted to people with a certain attitude, or a physical characteristic that is independent of their gender. I don’t see her acting on those attractions as much as I do, though.”

“What of your little sister, your biological sister to be more precise.”

“She has taken my place as mom’s obedient little cunt licker. She sleeps with mom and my step mom more than I ever did. She hasn’t had her own bed since the crib. I just hope it turns out better than it did between mom and me.”

“Did your youngest sister play a role in the divide that has grown between you and your mother?”

Sam considered this carefully. “I honestly think it helped. Mom and I had, for a long time, been at each other’s throats one minute and between the other’s legs the next. My sister has never had that kind of dichotomy with her…”

Sam was interrupted by the woman. “Hold on. I have had professors that couldn’t use ‘dichotomy’ correctly in a sentence…”

Sam interrupted the interruption. “I’m in advanced English, and public speaking. I’m failing remedial math miserably, but I’m in advanced English and doing well, apparently.”

“That will do the trick. I’m sorry, please continue.”

“Without the tension that caused our fight-fuck-fight cycle, our relationship has balanced out.” Sam took a moment consider her youngest sister. “My sister has always had a strong relationship with mom, and it does not look to be ending any time soon. I wouldn’t be surprised if, in ten years, she is still willingly sharing my mother’s bed.”

The woman considered how to phrase her next question in as sensitive a way she could, but decided that the girl could handle the question in its most insensitive form. “Has your mother raped you?” She knew immodestly after the words left her mouth, and before Sam could respond that she had made a mistake.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to call it rape. She doesn’t wait for me to say yes or no. She never forced me to do anything that I wasn’t ultimately willing to do, but it has happened that I wasn’t in the mood, or was never given a choice. I guess that is technically rape, but I didn’t feel violated like I did when I was actually raped.” Sam paused for a moment. “If it’s ok with you, I would like to not talk about those. They are still unsettling.”

“Oh my god, I am sorry. Of course we can.” The woman was deeply ashamed of herself.

“Your apology is accepted.” Sam sighed a little. “You asked a logical question, I guess I opened myself to that.”

The woman felt another wave of shame, almost as if she had done the evil deed herself.

“You asked me the yesterday why I took up martial arts. Now you know.” Sam lit a cigarette for herself. She was not at nearly the level of emotional distress as the woman. The incident had been long ago, the assailant dealt with by the police, and she had turned it into a motivation for self-improvement. It may not have been psychologically sound, but she did feel good about herself, better even, than before the incidents because of what they motivated her to do.

Sam sensed, from the growing silence, that the interviewer was uncomfortable. “Would a recounting of an experience with my brother and sister benefit the study?” The empathetic tone of her voice asked the real question, which was ‘Would a story about my brother and sister fucking my brains out make you feel better?’

The woman’s answer was the same for either question. “Yes, it would.” There was no place for the woman to go emotionally, but up.

Sam, having grown uncomfortable in her chair, slipped to the floor, thus pushing the chair a few feet back. She laid down, with one hand under her head, the other, found the woman’s ankle, and lightly stroked it. The woman pulled her foot away in shock, but returned it after a second. “Several months ago, before their twelfth birthday party… and I don’t mean a day before, I mean an hour before, I was in their room, trying to wake them up. My sister had a habit of staying up late during the summer, and not waking up until almost dinner time. My brother had the same habit, but he didn’t need as much sleep as she did, and could get up for lunch. That day I was trying to get them up at ten. I pulled the covers off of them and opened the curtains. I hoped that would wake them, but it barely made them stir. The cold air didn’t even affect them, because they were sharing body heat.”

“Wait. They would have to be in the same bed for that to work at all, and mostly naked in order for that to work effectively.” The woman had a natural predilection to interrupt people. She thought she had gotten over it, but in times of great emotional distress, and in times of arousal, her concentration lapsed, and she fell back into bad habits.

“And?” Sam asked, a little sarcastically. “They slept in the same bed, and did so totally naked. We are talking about kids of two women who met and fell in love due to their peculiar sexual proclivities. On top of that we are talking about twins, who are normally joined at the hip, if you pardon the pun.”

“This is true.” The woman conceded the point, though the debate had taken her mind off her earlier mistake.

“As I was saying, they were naked, holding each other, and very much asleep. But as much as the sight of them made me want to jump their bones right then and there, we were on a tight time table.” She sighed. “I should pull that tomorrow.” She giggled to herself a little, whist continuing to caress the woman’s ankle and calf. “I climbed into bed with them, and reached between them with both hands. I found his cock and the top of her slit and started to softly rub them both. That caused them to stir, to say the least. It also caused her to get wet and him to get quite hard. They didn’t wake up in any meaningful sense until I pulled away and climbed off the bed. They did not look amused.

“After exchanging some comical and pathetic looks with each other, I managed to talk them out of bed, but they were still moving slow. Out of frustration, I ended up pushing them and pulling them through the things they had to do to get ready for the party, including bringing them to the bathroom for a shower.” Sam could feel the woman’s muscles tense up when the shower was mentioned, which brought a smile to her face.

“They were still being uncooperative, or should I say, they were zombies. We didn’t have time for them to take individual showers and get their hair done and get their makeup on, so I had them take a shower together. This is not something that is all that unusual for them. They do it before school, if only to save time. I don’t know if they have sex before school, I wouldn’t be surprised if they did or didn’t. That day, though, they were like dead meat. They stood in the tub, staring at me blankly, yawning frequently. ‘Fine’ I told them, took off my robe, stepped into the tub and closed the curtain.

“I had to push past my sister to start the water. When we got that initial burst of cold water, we all shrieked a little and huddled away from the shower head. I felt their warm bodies against mine, I felt my brother’s arousal, and it made me wet.” She paused for a second, both in her speech and in her gentle caress. “No comments about the shower getting me wet.” She was used to preemptively defending herself in matters of semantics, an instinct developed partly by her English teachers, but mostly by her girlfriend. “With them in their half-awake state, there was no need to be discreet, and I reached down and touched them, cupping my sister and gripping my brother, lightly stroking both of them. They closed their eyes when they started to feel the subtle building pleasure, but I stopped moving when they did; I didn’t want them to relax back into sleep.

“They managed to keep their eyes open for the rest of the shower, which is good, because I would have hated to miss out on it. My sister reached between my legs and let her finger glide over my clit, which was almost throbbing anticipating a touch. I let out a soft moan and pushed a finger against her opening. My brother pulled out of my hand and slid behind me, pushing me against my sister a little. As our bodies pressed, I pressed my lips to hers, our tongues met and mingled between our mouths. My brother was pressing his arousal against my ass.

“The water seemed to get hotter then. I don’t know why I remember that. Anyways. He started to press himself into my ass… he wasn’t going too fast or too hard. It’s wasn’t the first time he had fuck me in my ass; it just took a moment or two for him to slide inside me. I leaned forward, bending at the hips to allow him better access. My sister slid down my body, and knelt between me and the wall. She kissed my non-existent chest, then my belly, she played with my belly button ring with her tongue for a few seconds, which was an unusual sensation, then kissed at my hood.

“I spread my legs, partly to give her more access and to give my brother an easier time, and partly to brace myself against the tub. My hands gripped the wash cloth rack for balance. My sister pressed her tongue against my clit and slowly, at first, lapped at me. It was not long before her mouth encompassed my mound and she was sucking on my pussy quite hard, her tongue pressing firmly against my clit and rasping back and forth feverishly. As her attentions became more intense, so did my brother’s, who was pounding himself inside me. I came after only a few moments of that. When my mind cleared a little, I stepped over my sister and off of my brother’s cock. My back was against the wall and my hands on the back of her head as she finished her brother off with her mouth.

“One of our moms knocked on the door about then asking us what the hell was taking so long. We quickly washed up, did our hair and makeup, and all that, and got dressed. I wore a mini-dress, a short and black one. And they wore matching blouses and skirts, gray skirts with almost shear white blouses, if I remember. My sister didn’t wear a bra, still doesn’t, and you could faintly see their nipples through the blouses. And then… we went to the party. It was kind of a dull event, though some of our mutual friends and fuck buddies were there; we only talked and made out some though.

To Sam there was a distinct odor coming from just above her head; it was that of a woman’s intense arousal. This satisfied Sam. “It’s getting late. Can we do this again next week?”

“Uh, um, ok. Session two ending, eleven-fifty-six…wow is it that late. Oh, um, session two, ending eleven-fifty-six PM.” The woman shut off the recorder.

Paralogue - Brook

The room was dimly lit and a little smoky. On the floor was an old couch whose legs had long ago failed, and was very close to the ground, and was home to the rear ends of three of Brook’s friends. In front of the couch was a folding table’s top lying on a pair of cinder blocks; the legs had long since vanished. A fourth and fifth friend of Brook sat in bean bags at either end of the table. Brook was the only one of the group that was not at the table; she sat on a long neglected work bench, smoking a cigarette and ashing it out the basement window.

The group had finished a long running game, and instead of starting another one right away, they decided to take the rest of the night to hang out. The group was all about the same age as Brook, ranging from thirteen at the youngest to sixteen at the oldest.

“Hey, Brook, why didn’t you bring Sam along? It’s not the same without her moping in your shadow.” Andie, the only other female of the group, broke the boycott of conversation the group took against Brook when she smoked.

“What, you miss her?” Brook was intrigued by the interest in her girlfriend. Her friends are a little uncomfortable around her. Geeks don’t do to well around people who exude sexuality, especially if that person is of their sexual preference. “You know that flyer that was posted in the art hall; the one that made Steve and Jason blush?”

The mention of the flyer got the attention of the boys, who were present. Remembering the flyer forced their cheeks into a nice rosy color.

“I pay attention to posters that have ‘For Gays and Lesbians only’ in big red letters across the top.” Andie was very straight in her own estimation. In everyone else’s estimation she was totally asexual.

“It was the interviews about sex.” Steve interjected.

“Yeah, that. I got her to sign up for them. I already had my interview, she is on her second.” Brook took a last drag, and tossed the butt out the window. “You two should sign up for them, too.” She addressed Steve, who was all but sitting in Jason’s lap.

“I haven’t come out to my mom yet, I’m not going to tell her through some research paper.” Jason wrapped his arm around his boyfriend, and snuggled him a bit.

“Get a room.” Andie jested at the pair, to which Brook chided her as a prude.

“So, what was it like?” Mark, the younger, spoke up. He rarely spoke unless directly addressed. The group took notice and all looked at him in silence, then at Brook for the answer.

“I went to a motel room, and talked to a woman about being gay.” Brook shrugged. “She wanted to know how my family reacted when I came out, what Sam was like, and some stories about times we had sex.”

“And you were comfortable talking about that to a total stranger?” Mark, the elder, spoke. He talked all the time. In fact, it was really hard to get him to shut up. As such, he was often ignored.

Brook did answer him, though. “It is totally anonymous. I told her about some sex I had with Sam. Who here hasn’t heard a story from someone you never met about sex they had with Sam?” The group kind of shrugged in unison. Sam was the school’s mascot of the sluts, the butt of jokes, and the object of countless teen’s sexual desires.

“What did you tell her?” Andie threw a pillow at the younger of the two Marks for asking the question.

“Do you really want to hear about my sex life? Are we really having that conversation?”

The group, less Andie, nodded in response. Andie just rolled her eyes. “Perverts.”

Brook closed the window and slid into the third remaining bean bag. “I told her about the first time we had sex sober. It was right over there, next to where Mark is.” She pointed at the younger of the two, who, upon hearing that, used the pillow to shield his erection.

“That’s it. I am going to go buy a soda or something.” Andie made a scene of her leaving the basement. Again, Brook chided her as a prude.

Brook sighed a little. “Seriously guys; do you really want me to tell you about sex with Sam?”

A moment passed and Mark, the younger, answered for the remaining guys. “Yeah, we do.” He squirmed in his bean bag.

Brook rolled her eyes a bit and relaxed back into her bean bag. “Fine, but your zippers stay zipped. Uh…You two can do what you want, but the Marks, keep your hands visible.” She figured that Steve and Jason would not be touching themselves because of a story of lesbian love, so if they fooled around, it was inspired by something entirely different.

“It was the night of the freshman dance. Sam asked to go steady with me the month before. The school didn’t allow us to go as a couple, so she found some guys to go as our dates. When we got home, I was bitching about how the guy kept on grabbing my butt when we danced. It bugged me. She didn’t say much about the guy she went with. She told me later that it was because she had sex with him under the gym bleachers. I didn’t know that then, though.” She paused for a moment. “Yes, I am dating the school whore. Yes, I knew that back then too. It doesn’t bother me.”

“She was helping me out of my gown, and well, it went logically from there.” Brook grins cruelly.

“Oh come on. You are such a tease.” Brook looked at Steve with a gaze of shock.

“What is so fascinating to guys about girls having sex?”

“It’s the last three words of that sentence that gets our attention.” Mark, the elder spoke up. He might have been talking a lot more than everyone else remembers, but everyone ignored him.

“Yup. All guys key on that. Even us.” Steve laid his head on Jason’s shoulder, and stared at Brook, waiting for the story. “Guys are pigs. So … oink oink oink, tell us the story.”

“Fine, fine. She was helping me out of my dress. She had already removed hers, but her dress was skimpy enough that she could just slide the straps off her shoulders, and wiggle out of it. Mine had a big zipper down the back and hooks and all that. I was leaning against that pole…” She pointed to a support pole to the left of Mark, the younger. “…And she undid all the hooks, and unzipped the zipper, pulling the dress down just enough so the sleeves held my arms to my body. I asked her what she was doing, and she just shushed me. She lifted up my dress and pulled off my panties, but left my stockings on. She used her foot and spread my legs just enough that I had to lean hard against the pole.

“So there I was, arms locked to my sides, my shoulder pressed against that cold metal, and my ass exposed. I panicked because I didn’t know what she was doing, and she was giggling. If anyone has any idea why I fell in love with such a cruel bitch, tell me. Anyways, she started to caress my ass, and my hips, and my inner thighs, whispering for me to relax. I couldn’t stop shaking, I was so nervous. It wasn’t like she never touched me before; I just had some liquid courage those times.”

“You were drunk off your ass those times. Lush.” Mark, the elder chided his friend.

“I am not a lush!” She took on a posture of forced indignant anger. “My sister is a lush. She just brings me along.” That was met with rolled eyes and chortles. “If I can continue…” She waited for the attention of the boys. “… Ok. She slid her hand from my thigh to my pussy, and rubbed it slowly, stopping periodically to lick her finger. Apparently, I don’t get that wet. She spent a lot of time just teasing my lips, and then started to push in between them and rub on my clit. I couldn’t stand anymore when she did that. I fell to my knees, ripping apart my cute panties in the process. She knelt behind me and continued to tease me.

“A few minutes later, she slid her fingers into me. It hurt. Not a lot, but from later experience, I can tell you, she needed to lube her fingers more than she did. She was thrusting her fingers inside me, and though the pain never really went away, the pleasure did start to build. It started to feel really good. I came with her fingers inside me when she started to lick that area between my pussy and my ass. God, I love that.”

“So do I, Steve. Hint Hint.” Jason gave Steve a little squeeze.

“Yeah, well, next week, I get to hear gay sex stories from you two.” Brook stuck her tongue out, and slid back on to the workbench for another smoke. “Go ahead and call Andie, tell her it’s safe for prude ears down here again.”

Educational Enclave

The woman stood in the fluorescent lighting nightmare that was the department kitchenette. The lighting in this room, and much of the university, for that matter, was of the humming, flickering harsh gas-discharge mercury vapor variety. While cheap in every conceivable way, it was not pleasing to any human sense. Just being at the university gave the woman a headache. On her last trip the kitchenette, she had depleted her coffee pot and forgot to start another, something for which she was deeply regretting, as it had forced her to wait till a new pot brewed.

Her office, which she had equipped with much maligned incandescent lighting, would be no respite from the harsh reality of fluorescent fatigue; long ago the university banned the use of CRT monitors, and forced all departments to use LCDs; a technology based around a fluorescent lamp. She had a suspicion that her headaches were more frequent since the switch, but as a true scientist, would not act on it until she had hard evidence. She would have gathered that evidence already, but the university had made that impossible; without the use of the now banned CRT, she had no control with which to make a proper study.

“Fuck it.” She spoke her response to the frustrations she listed in her mind.

It took far longer than she had remembered for the machine to bring forth its nectar of life, and fatigue had started to set in on her. Her eyes closed and her mind played images for her; images of her family, images of her girlfriend’s smile… then other images of her girlfriend that made her smile. Her eyes shot open when her mind betrayed her, and showed her the girl; rather the rendering her imagination had created for the girl. Afraid to close her eyes, least her mind betray her again, she stared at the carafe as it filled at a painfully slow rate.

“I need to get laid.” She again responded verbally to her thoughts, and then quickly checked to make sure no one heard it. She was still alone.

The woman poured herself a cup of the steaming black liquid the second the machine emitted its telltale click, signaling that it had dutifully completed its task of advancing science, for at least another hour. She thankfully and hurriedly returned to her office. She threw out another love letter from the campus green-washers, turned on her inefficient incandescent desk lamp, and continued her work, transcribing interviews.

She had been avoiding five files for days, and it was becoming apparent that she could not avoid them much longer; she had only one recording left before she would have to start on the five she feared. She longed for a few more hours of mediocre sex stories from gay boys or more of the complete and obvious fabrications from fad and fake lesbians; a longing which shocked and disgusted her upon later reflection.

“Maybe I it won’t affect me. Maybe I can be scientifically detached a second time through.” She thought these things, which made her laugh aloud. One thing was becoming apparent to her, though; she was almost entirely ignoring the recording she was trying to transcribe.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” She cursed herself quite loudly. She closed Windows Media Player and Word. She was not going to be getting any more work done tonight, she convinced herself, but only before a moment of realization; she would not meet her deadline if she stopped.

“Maybe if I get it out of my system, it won’t build up so much inside.” That thought sounded logical to her. She opened up a browser, and tried to navigate to one of her old standby sites for emergencies just like this. The IT department of the school thwarted that attempt, and to her dismay, the computer told her the attempt was logged. “I can’t catch a fucking break.” She did not remember if she said that aloud or if she just thought it.

She whimpered to herself, resigned to the torment she was going to have to endure. After locking her door, and closing the blinds, she sat back at her desk. She turned off her speakers and put on headphones; no one was going to hear these stories except her. Privacy, she thought, would make it go smoother. Then again, privacy would allow her to do things to herself she would rather no one knew she did; especially to the dulcet tones of a fourteen year old girl’s voice.

After adjusting her jeans, in the form of unbuttoning them and undoing the fly, she launched a new document and began the transcription of the Jane Doe Two interviews, session one.

The first forty-five minutes went well; she had not needed to stop playback to relieve herself, and she thought she would be able to keep control. She corrected her jeans and sat up straight, resolve to complete at least the first session of interviews before giving up for the night and going home.

“Home.” She thought. Home with her girlfriend, where she would make sweet love to her, not once mentioning that her arousal was born not of her girlfriend, but of the tales of promiscuity as told by a subject of research. Home, would be her salvation.

She had taken a break from the recordings to refill her mug with the now slightly burnt tasting nectar of life. She would have to get a small coffee maker for her office, another luxury that would win her friends with the green-washers of the campus. She shrugged off the thought of more love letters, and returned to her office and the recordings.

Midway through the second recording, she was forced to stop. The girl had started to describe a bath she took at age six, and her imagination took over. She fought her urges, but her arousal was too strong. She readjusted her pants and let her hand slide into her panties. She would not, could not, pause the recording. Every word brought her more excitement, and later, more shame.

The girl’s description of her mother licking her drove the woman to a fever pitch in her self-stimulation. She pressed her fingers roughly against her clitoris and ground at herself; to bring herself pleasure, to punish herself for what aroused her. When the girl told of her mother’s desperation for release and the lengths that she went to get it, the woman slid fingers inside herself, and thrust them lewdly. She had lost herself in the story and in her own orgasm.

When the afterglow faded, she stopped playback, and saved the document. Before she left her office, she checked herself in a mirror, and found she could not look at herself the same anymore. She didn’t know what she felt about herself now, and she was more confused than she was at the girl’s age; when she discovered her own unique sexuality. She wiped a tear from her eye, a tear brought on by frustration and a little shame.

‘Home’ didn’t seem as appealing as it had a few hours ago, but she could not stay in her office.

Subterranean Suburbia

Brook lay in Sam’s arms on the dilapidated couch in Brook’s basement. The girls were fully clothed, or rather as fully clothed as they normally are. The hour was quite late, and they had not turned on any lights, leaving only a single source of light; the VFD on the stereo’s control surface. For all the differences in personality and taste that existed between the pair, they did listen to the same music, or as Brook’s parents called it, ‘the death throes of a castrated lion’. Sam always thought that it was a rather colorful and, more to the point, unjustified metaphor for metal, especially coming from people who actually liked the sound of Bob Dylan’s voice. Their music of choice for that night was what they both considered light and soothing, some northern European band with a female lead that, neither of them could remember the name of.

Their evening was filled mostly with silence between them. The silence was not born of strife or emotional outrage, but of a desire to not ruin the peaceful relaxation they had come to enjoy in the moment. Sam occasionally moved her hand to tease her lover, and those advances were met with the expected reactions; a soft moan, a slight giggle and her hand ultimately being batted away from whichever erogenous zone it had entered into. Brook wasn’t particularly disinterested in making love with Sam that evening, but at that time, she just preferred to be held, and leave it at that.

“Do you think we will get married?” Brook broke the silence, which one of them did intermittently.

“Not without a trip across state lines. I don’t think your mom will go for that.”

“I don’t mean right now. I mean… after we are out of high school. Do you think we will get married then?”

“I don’t know… A lot of relationships started in high school fizzle out once the couple graduates, which is why it is so rare to hear of high school sweethearts marrying.” Sam lifted Brook’s shirt some so her hand could rest on Brook’s bare skin.

“That’s reassuring.” Brook sighed to herself softly. “I want to marry you, eventually. I know I can’t have monogamy with you, and I am ok with that.” She sounded convincing, too convincing really.

Sam let that sit for just a second. “Babe, it almost sounded like you practiced that in the mirror or something.”

“I did.” Brooked admitted. “I really am ok with it. I went into our relationship knowing you couldn’t be with only one person at a time.”

“You can honestly say that you aren’t jealous when I fuck someone else?”

“Sam, do you love me?” Brook has a nasty habit of answering a question with a question. Perhaps this was a flaw shared with numerous other fourteen year old girls.

“Yes, of course, I love you.”

“And do you love the other people that you sleep with?”

“I sleep with members of my immediate family, Brook…”

“Besides them, do you love the people you fuck?”

“No. I don’t.” Sam readily admitted that.

“Then whatever jealousy I will feel when you are with someone else, will wash away when you come back to me… like it does now.”

“You don’t resent it at all? No trace of jealousy remains when I come back to you?”

Brook thought hard, searching herself. The last thing she wanted was to commit herself for life, to someone or something that she resented, somewhere deep within herself. “I can honestly say that I don’t resent you, myself, or the people you sleep with.” She believed what she said, but did not know if she lied to herself or not, such is the nature of belief.

Sam let that sit for a long while, only speaking after the CD ended and the stereo switched to the next disc. In that silence she spoke. “So should we be setting a date?”

“You haven’t asked me to marry you yet.”

Sam let out a little huff that was half of a laugh. “You know, we can’t have a traditional engagement, or a traditional wedding, you know that right?”

“Why, the hell, not?” Brook spoke in an amused tone.

“By tradition, the man proposes and presents a ring, the man stands at the altar and is given his bride, the man wears black… or that that tacky powder blue while the bride wears white; which would be off-white for either of us, since we are hardly pure or innocent.”

“Thanks.” Brook sounded amused and insulted at the same time at the last part of Sam’s answer.

“The point is, we can’t hold to some tradition that does not apply to us. If you want to make a ceremony of it, then we shouldn’t try and make it a surprise to the other like a traditional engagement would be. We can plan it out, have a party, and have some fun.”

“I don’t want to get engaged at an orgy, Sam.”

“We can have the orgy after.” Sam was mocking her, mostly.

Brook huffed in half a laugh. “That sounds like a decent idea; a party, not an orgy. Knowing you though, there will be an orgy.”

“We don’t have to make any plans soon. It’s not like your mom will let you get married any time soon, to a girl no less.”

“She has accepted that she will not get grandbabies from me. She is… tolerant… of me being a lesbian. In as much as she doesn’t call me evil incarnate anymore.”

“So she doesn’t call you ‘Sinner’ instead of your name, now?”

“No, she still does. But it’s more about being out of wedlock.”

Sam thought about this for a second. “Hell, she might pay for the flight to Massachusetts, in that case.”

“That’s a stretch.” Brook paused until the end of the second song on this new disc. “I don’t want to put this off too long, babe.”

“Break the news to your mom. If you survive, we can start planning.”

Brook let the music take over for a few hours, and right before they fell to slumber, in each other’s arms, she spoke, barely above a whisper. “And no, Sam. I am not getting married any more than half naked.”

Recording Six

The woman sat in the hotel room for several hours, alone. She passed the time by reading the newspaper, but had completed most of it; all she had left was the sports section, and she couldn’t care less about professional athletics. She was about to give up and go home when the sun went down, figuring that the girl had stood her up… the woman stopped her train of thought and reflected. ‘Stood her up?’ Had she been thinking of this as a date? She decided that she must leave now, but when she started to collect he belongings, the door opened.

“Next time…” Sam entered in an aggravated state. “…If you want me here before sundown, pick a room on the east side of the building.”

“Why?” The woman then realized, before Sam said it, that a room on the west side would get a lot of direct sunlight, and would be bright enough for her to identify Sam. Hell, it was bright enough for her to read a newspaper with the lights off and curtains drawn.

“You can see me, that’s why.” Sam felt around the room for a chair, but failed to find it. She instead sat, and then lay on the bed. She took a cleansing breath. “So what’s on the agenda for today?”

“…Whatever you want to talk about. I can lead the conversation, if you like.” The woman resettled herself in her chair, putting the recorder on the table, making sure it is pointed in the direction of Sam’s voice. “We can begin whenever you are ready.”

“I’m ready, and yeah, you start the talking.” The annoyance in Sam’s voice was starting to fade.

“Study continuing, subject Jane Doe Two, Session three beginning May nineteenth, two-thousand-ten. The time is now eight-forty-one PM.” The woman took a moment to think of a question other than ‘so, what other deviant behavior have you engaged in that may titillate me?’ The best she could think of was what she eventually asked. “So, has anything interesting happened since we last spoke?” She again reconsidered whether or not continuing the interviews was a good idea.

Sam laughed a bit of a sarcastic, flustered laugh. “Ready for this? My girlfriend asked me to marry her last night.”

“That is wonderful, but you don’t sound pleased. Am I mistaken?”

“No, you got it right.” Sam rolled to her side to face the woman; at least she hoped she was facing the woman. “It’s not like I don’t want to get married, or marry her… I’m fourteen. I shouldn’t be getting married yet.”

The woman considered what she was doing, and decided to speak her mind, the study be dammed. “Jane, you are a fourteen year old girl with life experiences greater than that of some forty year old women I know. From my interactions with you, I would say you are far more mature than the average fourteen year old. I don’t know how you are in a workplace, or what you would do for practical matters like food and shelter, but your age, in your unique case, should not be a discouraging factor.” The woman imagined what the study coordinator would tell her if she ever found out that she had given advice to a subject. She would likely be pulled from the study and barred from ever participating in one again.

“Now you’re starting to sound like my step mom.” Sam laughed another sarcastic laugh. “She told me almost the same damn thing.” She fell silent for a moment. “And, I buy it.”

“Then what’s making you uneasy about it?”

“She told me that she didn’t want monogamy.” Sam reached into her purse and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it. She used the flame of the lighter to look for an ashtray. “I don’t know if I can buy that.” She laughed again. “I don’t know if she buys that. I just need to think about it.”

The woman considers her options here; does she press on or let the subject be dropped. She chose the latter. “Did anything else of merit happen in the past few days?”

Sam considered her week. “I got my blue belt on Monday. I guess that is significant.”

“I am unfamiliar with martial arts, is that a major achievement?”

“Kind of. It’s the first belt after a white belt – novice, for adults. All it means is I’m not at the kids table anymore, so to speak.”

“Why did your school advance you to the adult table, to continue the metaphor?”

“I outgrew the expectations they had for juniors.” Sam stopped. “Are you trying to have an ‘afterschool special’ moment with me?”

“What? You have never seen an afterschool special. They stopped making them long before you were born.”

“It’s in the culture. And you didn’t answer the question. Were you trying to have an ‘afterschool special’ moment there?” Sam sounded quite amused.

“Maybe, a little.”

“I will have none of that. Now, let’s move on to the explicit descriptions of underage sex.” Sam was now just teasing the woman; in more ways than one.

“Do you get the point though?”

“Yes, I do. But you have an incomplete picture here. I’m nowhere near as grown up and well-rounded as you would make me. Case and point, I am in a math class with a kid who is incapable of communication in any way shape or form, who has a better grade than me. His drool randomly hits the right multiple choice questions more than standard probability would dictate. I can’t even make it that far actually trying.”

“What’s the standard probability?”

“Twenty-five percent. He is getting forty. That’s point-one-five over standard deviation. I’m point-three under.”

“You just answered a tenth grade math question, which is above your grade level, I believe, the way a statistics student would answer, and answered it correctly. Why the hell are you in remedial math?”

“Because I always get the questions wrong on paper. I see the numbers in the wrong order.” This was delivered in one of Sam’s trademark verbal shrugs.

The woman was in shock. She couldn’t even form a coherent thought on the matter. She would write a letter to the school district demanding that the situation be looked at by qualified educators. She would do that, she insisted to herself, if she ever learned the girls fucking name. “I think you had a good suggestion a moment ago.”

“What, the sex thing? We don’t have to… I was kidding with you.” Sam almost sounded apologetic.

“It is what we are here to do; we might as well get to it.”

“…Was there any particular incident you wanted to hear about?”

“We can talk about any incident you feel comfortable sharing. Remember to include every detail you remember.”

Sam had to think about this for a moment. It was not easy to dredge up a random memory of something you have done quite a lot of. For some reason her mind kept wandering back to her mother’s wedding, which while on the sexy and risqué side, were not the sort of thing that the woman needed. She tried to force her thoughts to something else, possibly more fruitful, but kept coming back to the wedding, and the events surrounding it.

“A week before my mom got married again, they held an engagement party at the house; they didn’t want to do the rehearsal and dinner like normal, so they just threw a party for the wedding party. It wasn’t a lot of people; two bride’s maids on either side, a few usheresses, and my soon to be step-siblings. This was about three years ago so I was eleven, and they were nine.

“The adults, and as I remember a few kids too, were busy eating, drinking, and flirting. No one had sex in the living room, where the party was. If they wanted to, they slipped off to a guest room. I found the party kind of boring, so I went upstairs to my room and stared at a wall for a while. I think ten minutes later I wandered to my sister’s room.

“It wasn’t the first time I met my step sister or brother, but it was the first time we spent any time alone. The only thing she had unpacked yet was her bed; everything else was in boxes on the floor or in the garage. She was laying on the bed, wearing a tube top, a garter, stockings and panties all made out of silk; it was an actual outfit, not just something she threw on. I was wearing the same thing in a dark purple. It looked rather erotic on her.”

“Was it unusual to wear such a reveling outfit?”

“Uh, no. I often walk around the house naked, as does most of my family. Mom and my stepmom went shopping the night before and found the outfits and decided that they would be perfect for the party; see, the people in the wedding party, and all of the guests that would be at the wedding share mom and my stepmom’s sexual interests. You can imagine it was a small wedding.

“I sat on the bed, by her feet and looked up at her. She had her eyes closed and ear buds in her ears. I don’t know what she was listening to, but it must have been something heavy with a beat, because she was squirming around to the music. I just watched her slim body move to the music for a little while. I don’t know why, but I found her to be incredibly erotic that night. I laid down next to her, and rested my head on her thigh; she didn’t stop me. She put her hand on the back of my head and pet at me a little. Her eyes stayed closed, but stopped moving so much, likely to make it more comfortable for me.

“After a few minutes she bent her knee, not the one I was laying against, exposing her panty clad pussy to me. I don’t know if she intended that as an invitation, but I took it as one. I slid over her leg and rested my face against her sex, and nuzzled it. She smelled wonderful; like flowers and sex. She was aroused, and by my guess had been for quite a while. I started to lick at her lips through the silk.

“She moaned softly immediately, and then moved her hips, so I could lie comfortably between her legs. I tongued at her sex for what seemed like half an hour; when it looked like she was about to cum, I slowed down until the orgasm that was building in her subsided; I was cruel like that, but it wasn’t like she was complaining.”

Sam stopped talking.

“And then…?” The woman sounded more eager than she desired.

“And then… nothing. Our moms called us back to the party.” Sam sat up and lit herself a cigarette.

The woman stopped the recorder. “You are a tease.”

“I know. You will get a good one when you tell me one… You owe me.”

Paralogue – Fear and Loathing at McDonald’s

“You know, when I agreed to hack your phone so it would take infrared pictures, I didn’t have this in mind.” Brook was sitting on the sidewalk next to the ashtray that stood sentry next to the main entrance to the fast food restaurant. She had her laptop with her, and she was leaching the Wi-Fi. Brook’s sister sat mirroring Brook on the other side of the door, pretending to be texting, but was actually taking pictures of people as they entered or exited the store; which normally would not be a problem, except her phone was now capable of seeing through certain types of clothing. They were both smoking far too much.

“What, you actually thought I would be taking artsy nature shots with a camera phone? You are naive.” The older girl smirked a little while taking a picture of a family of four. The father’s clothing was opaque to the camera, but the mother and their daughters showed up nude, with a ghostly outline of where their clothes were. Brook’s sister saved this shot. “I thought your slut, I mean shadow, I mean girlfriend was going to join us.” She did not sound disappointed that Sam could not make it.

“She is doing another interview.” Brook responded rather coldly to her sister; she did not like it when people spoke poorly of Sam.

“You mean she’s fucking the interviewer.”

“No, she is talking to the interviewer.” Brook was even colder.

“Right.” Brook’s sister butted out her cigarette and put her phone away for a moment; not because she had sated her voyeuristic urges, but because a police interceptor had pulled into the drive-thru. “So what did you two do last night?”

“We had an orgy. You should have been there; sixty, no a hundred people fucked our brains out.” Brook became more annoyed at her sister’s line of questioning.

“Ok, so you talked all night.”

“Yeah. And that’s all we did.”

Brook’s sister let that stand for a while. When the cop car left the parking lot she resumed taking pictures. Her first shot after resumption was that of a little girl and her grandmother. The girl was in a light sun dress that was completely transparent to the camera. The picture of the little girl, who couldn’t have been more than seven, clearly showed the outline of her tiny tight sex, and the slender lines of her legs and ass. She immediately emailed the picture to Brook. This was somewhat of a ritual; she would send any pictures of girls to Brook, while maintaining the entire archive for herself. Brook was more amused by the pictures than she was titillated, and made no effort to stop the flow of images. “So did you ask her?”

“Ask her what?”

“Come on, it’s been the only thing on your mind for the past two weeks.” Brook’s sister lit another cigarette.

“Oh that. We talked about it.”

“What did she say?”

“She didn’t say anything. I didn’t ask her, just…talked about it, in concept.” Brook was avoiding a direct answer.

“You need to grow a pair…”

“I’m a girl; I don’t have a pair to grow.” Brook took a long drag from her cigarette, and used the last remaining embers to light another.

“You know what I mean. Just ask her to marry you. It’s not like mom will let you go through with it, so it doesn’t even matter if she says yes or no.”

“And that will accomplish what?”

“You will know that she will. And when you’re sixteen, you can run across state lines and she won’t be able to stop you from getting married.”

“But she will be able to stop me from going to college, getting a decent job, and supporting the family I would be making.” Brook had already thought about this. Brook thought too much.

“Then convince mom to let you get married. Get Sam’s mom to convince her, or something. Take some action.”

Brook closed her laptop. “Mom once tried to send me to rehab to cure me of my ‘gay’. There is no convincing that woman of anything.”

Brook’s sister thought silently for a moment, but did not miss a chance to take a picture of a couple going into the restaurant. “You do have another parent, you know.”

“Great… Just what I needed; dad involved in my love life. Tell me again why mom and dad split?”

“That’s not the point. All you need is for him to sign some piece of paper to let you get married. He will do that just to piss mom off, with the side benefit of redeeming himself with us.”

“I’ll think about it.” Brook returned her attention to her laptop. “She hasn’t even given me an answer yet.”

Recording Seven

“That is fucking it! I am never lending a lighter to anyone again!” That proclamation was followed by the sound of the lighter bouncing off the bathroom door and hitting the floor.

“What the hell?” The woman was confused by the sudden turn of events, and the girls sudden…violent tendencies.

“That lighter was full this morning, I lent it to a friend during fifth period so he could sneak off and have a smoke, and he gave it back damn near empty. I swear to god, if they don’t just steal them outright, they burn up all the gas… It pisses me off.” Sam was, however, not thwarted. She had matches in her purse, and used one to light her cigarette.

“Why not just give them a match?”

“I will have none of this… logic.” Sam huffs a bit. “It feels good to be pissed off sometimes.”

“Then you should thank your friend.”

“Fuck that. It’s still wrong…”

The woman chuckled a little. “Excuse me; I have to use the ladies room… if I can find it.” She got out of her chair and felt around for a few moments until she felt a door knob… She had a mental picture of the room from when it was light out, but that had faded some. Luckily, there was no adjoining room, or closets. Her only options were the door to leave the room or the bathroom, so it was not all that difficult to eventually find. She thought to herself, that perhaps it would be easier if the girl just wore a mask. Hell they could have done the interviews over the phone; surely she could have expensed a burner cell phone for the girl out of the study’s budget.

Only after she had closed the door, the woman turned on the light. The image in the mirror was alien to her. She had put on makeup, and worn a dress; nothing too revealing, just a little something she thought could pass as professional or party. It made no sense to her in retrospect; she was dressing to attract a girl who her conscience would not allow her to have anyways, and the girl wouldn’t be able to see her in the first place. “What the hell are you doing?” She whispered to herself. It took a minute for her to look away from the foreign sight in the mirror, and get down to the business at hand; doing her ‘business’.

While washing up, the same foreign person stared back at her in the mirror. “You’re not doing anything, but having a conversation with another woman…she is a woman…about sex. It’s nothing you haven’t done a thousand times before.” A voice played in the woman’s mind, and she attributed it to the creature that stood in for her in the mirror. “Just, don’t do anything with her, and you will be fine. You’re not doing anything wrong… yet.” The last word disturbed the woman more than not seeing herself, in a metaphorical sense, in the mirror. She shut off the light and returned, cautiously, to her seat.

“It’s your turn.” Sam reminded the woman.

“I know.” The woman flipped on the recorder. “Is there anywhere you would like me to start?”

“I want to hear about your ex-girlfriend. The one you talked about last time… she sounds steamy.” There was amusement and sensuality to Sam’s voice that the woman was aroused and, in turn, a little disgusted by.

“Unfortunately, I told you the steamiest story of my life last week.”

“You talked about what your relationship was like, but you didn’t talk about her almost at all.”

The woman thought on that for a moment, before stating her un-answer. “You have to realize something about how a submissive looks at their dominant, be it a mistress-slave or dominant-submissive relationship; the dominant is always bigger than they really are, has less faults than they really do, and did more than they really did.”

“That’s … good to know, but it’s a little off topic.”

“It’s not that far off as you would think. You wanted to know about my ex. Well, she was my mistress; my dominant. Everything I remember about her is bigger than life, and better than it likely really was. You won’t have a clear picture of her.”

“How is that any different than being in love with someone?” There was an honest curiosity in Sam’s tone.

The woman had to think long on that one. “I guess ‘it just is’ will not be a sufficient answer, will it?”

“Nope.”

“With a dominant, and I have had a couple in my life, even their rejection doesn’t sour your memories of them. I have had vanilla relationship girlfriends, that once we broke up, everything was still bigger than life in my mind, but twisted and perverted into a dark… nightmare. I would think ‘How did I survive being with her?’ after the relationship ended. That never happened with a dominant, even if the relationship ended in a very similar circumstance.”

Sam considered that for a moment, and added it to her minds catalogue of collected wisdom, so to speak. She then remembered something the woman said during the first session. “Wait, didn’t you say you never had a dominant-submissive relationship after your first girlfriend? And didn’t you say she was your first?”

The woman blushed. She wasn’t exactly caught in a lie, but it did need a lot of clarification. “It really depends on what you mean by relationship.” She sounded like she had been caught, all the same.

“Go on? I like where this back-peddling is going.”

“Something you will find out about a lot of normal girls is…when you ask them how many men, or in our case, women, they have been with, they will tell you a number that really is how many men or women they have considered marrying, or something along those lines. They won’t, at first, tell you how many partners they have had, or how many relationships they have been in that were strictly physical.”

“Fascinating. And by your logic, what would I tell you?”

“Let’s find out. How many people have you been with?”

“I’ve been with about two hundred males, one hundred forty three and one half females, sixteen domestic animals and three farm animals.”

“Wow.” It took a moment for that to register with the woman. “Half a female?”

“That’s my brother. He is in almost no way male, but only half a girl.”

“I see.”

“The animals aren’t counted against the total male and female numbers. But enough about me, we are talking about you right now. So in your back-peddling, you acknowledge that you had more dominants after your first girlfriend. I take it that they didn’t resonate with you emotionally like your ex did?”

The woman hesitated. She could not continue until she thought back to the restroom, and what she told herself; this was ok as long as it stays a conversation and does not get physical. “No. No one, man or woman, has ever hit me emotionally like she did. Before you ask, I have been with only two men, by your counting standard, and I never had sex with them; it was just dominance and submission.”

The woman stopped there, but Sam did not ask another question right away; she just waited patiently for the woman to continue speaking. “What was unique about your ex that you haven’t found in subsequent partners?”

“To be perfectly honest; she was two people to me. She was a girlfriend in a very vanilla way when I needed her to be, and she was a savage dominant, when she, and I, needed it. I have had girlfriends that I loved intensely, and dominants that have been rightly savage with me, but never mixed in the way she did; never balanced the way I need.

“I miss her, more so now that I have been talking about her. The other day I was considering setting up a meeting with her; nothing overt, just lunch. But I can’t do that to my current girlfriend.”

Sam thought about how she wanted to ask the next question. If she were asking herself, she would simply request the information she wanted in as plain a way as possible, but this was a normal person, someone who would be offended by such a blunt question. She couched the question in what was discussed earlier. “In ten years, would you count your current girlfriend when asked by a stranger how many people she has been with?’”

“No.” The woman did not hesitate on that answer. There was no shame in her, and that disturbed her some, but disturbed was a feeling she was getting used to lately. The woman and the girl were thinking the same thing. “I do love here, though. I can’t just rip her heart out, and walk away.”

“Ok. Will she count you in ten years?”

“You always hope that you will be.” She paused, but knew that the girl would not let that answer stand. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“Then what’s the point?” Sam didn’t let the woman answer. “Look at me and my girlfriend. I can, and often do, have sex with whomever I want, as many times as I want. When I met her, though, I knew she would change my life. She filled something that I needed emotionally and intellectually. She is someone whose impact on my life I can never discounted. You have that with your ex. You don’t with your current. What’s the point?” Sam still didn’t let the woman answer. “You care about your current. I get that, I totally do. If you don’t have that emotional fulfillment, do you think she is?” Sam finally shut up.

The woman waited a moment after Sam stopped. This was not a moment of contemplation, or hesitation, but simply to see if the girl would start talking again. When it was clear that the final question had been asked, she responded “She doesn’t.” Her voice was flat, almost deflated.

“Don’t pretend your relationship is something that it isn’t. You will just end up hurting yourself and her a lot more. I’m not saying break up with her, but maybe you shouldn’t be in a committed relationship with her, if she isn’t the one… as hackney songwriters from the fifties would say.”

The woman sat in silence for a long moment. “I’m sorry, I just can’t think of something sexy to tell you now.” The woman’s voice was sincerely apologetic, and shaded with building emotion.

Sam turned on the light. “Come here.” Her voice was comforting, almost soothing, with the slightest hint of rasp; a side effect of smoking a pack a day for two years.

The woman looked at Sam in complete surprise. “No… I can’t. It’s wrong…”

“That wasn’t a request. Come here.” Sam’s voice took on a stern quality, while remaining comforting. She was playing off the woman’s natural submissiveness. The woman, reluctantly, complied and moved from her chair to the bed. Sam guided her, gently cradling the woman’s head against her chest as they lay together.

Sam had no breasts to speak of, and did not wear a bra. Unlike the woman, she had come to the interview in whatever she had on that afternoon, which was an athletic rash guard, and shorts. A few tears rolled down the woman’s cheek, creating dark spots on the water-transmissive material of the rash guard.

The woman’s world had crashed; she was pining for a former love, was seriously considering breaking up with her current girlfriend whom she still loved, and was surely about to take part in something that she had feared, and was not stopping herself. She had lost control of her emotions and that bothered her greatly; the irony of that did not escape the submissive woman.

Sam kissed the top of the woman’s head and caressed down her hair. She considered what to do now; she had not thought that far ahead. All she wanted to do initially was comfort the woman, but now what?

It was a long time before either of them moved. The woman gathered her courage and sat up. She was not going to dismiss the girl, she did not need a boost of confidence to walk away; she decided to give in. She sat up on the bed, and looked down at the girl. Her hands moved to her back and started to unzip her dress. She was stopped when Sam put her hand on the woman’s shoulder.

“No. You don’t need that.” Sam tried to hide the surprise on her face, and did a good job. She could not believe that she was turning down sex; she had only done that with her girlfriend. Perhaps she felt the same things with this woman? Definitely not. There was no question to her, and she was not lying to herself. Then what? Could it have been emotional maturity? Possibly. She would have to think about this a lot later.

“But I need something.” The woman’s voice was pitiful, as was the way her hands simply dropped to her sides. She felt rejected, and relieved.

“I know. Something about this… what we talk about… burns you up in your heart, not to mention between your thighs. Making love will change all of that. Let yourself burn for a while, and talk.”

“Talk about what?” The woman returned her head to Sam’s nonexistent chest.

“…The last time you burned, of course.” Sam’s response drew a chuckle from the woman, though she was far from cheered up.

Recording Eight

“I assume you don’t just want me to repeat what I told you Friday?” The woman’s head cocked oddly so she could look at the girls face while not moving it from her chest.

“That’s a fair assumption.” Sam looked down at the woman. She was totally confused, but didn’t show it on her face. She had no idea what she was doing, but wasn’t about to let the woman know that. “Tell me about… when you first felt powerless to your ex.”

“Powerless?” The woman was then confused.

“When you lost emotional restraint, when you could do anything for her; tell me of when you were powerless to her.”

The woman gazed blankly past Sam, searching her memory. It was one thing to ask her to recount a tale based on some factually trivia; the first time participating in a particular act, with a personality type. It was much harder for her to discern when an emotional state started that in retrospect seemed like it had always been there. But it wasn’t always there, and she could remember a time when it wasn’t. She could remember when she and her ex were just girls experimenting with each other’s bodies; when they giggled after every kiss, and still talked about the boys they wanted to date. Then it all changed. When did it change?

“Seventh grade.” The woman finally spoke.

Sam had begun to worry that she had lost the woman; that she was not going to answer. “Ok, go on.”

“I was at her house, sitting on her bed. We had been fooling around on a regular basis, but never really identified what we felt for each other yet. We wouldn’t for a while after that. We were just talking, gossiping really, and her mother came up to her room. She had gotten a package in a plain cardboard box; it only had her name and address and a return address. Her mom questioned her about what was in the box, but she just kept on avoiding the question. Her mom gave up after about ten minutes, and left us alone.

“She got off the bed and locked the door, which meant to me, that we were going to make out, and perhaps finger each other. We had developed quite the routine, and it was fun, if a little unimaginative. While I was busy undressing, she opened up the box with a big grin. She had somehow managed to order a dildo and harness from the internet. We were eleven and twelve at the time, and this was over ten years ago; it was not nearly as easy to get one of those prepaid credit cards at the time, and I have no idea how she found the site to buy it from.

“The sight of the object forced chills of fear down my body, which intensified and mixed with curious arousal when she stated to put it on. She was wearing a skirt… almost a cheerleading skirt, but not as gaudy, and the phallus was pushing up the front… it was surreal and erotic to me, but I didn’t feel ready… I knew I wasn’t ready, but I could not say no to her. She told me, a little exasperatedly, to finish taking off my clothes and that she wanted to have some fun with her new toy.

“I was hesitating, and she was getting confused. I had to tell her that I was no ready to lose my virginity, and that may have been an excuse or the truth, it does not matter. Her grin took an evil shape and responded with ‘If I can’t have your pussy, then I’ll take your ass.’ It wasn’t a threat, but a fact. Because she said it like that, I found I could not resist her. I didn’t hesitate any more. I striped, and got on all fours on the bed.

“I was so afraid… maybe apprehensive is a better word… that I slammed my eyes shut, and did not open them the entire time. It felt like hours waiting for her to climb on the bed and kneel behind me. When the cool, slick silicone touched my cheeks I gasped, and my body clenched. She waited for me to relax, and pushed forward, guiding the toy to my anus, and let it stay there, with steady, constantly increasing pressure until my ass eased and allowed the toy in.

“The toy was too big, and it hurt more than it should have, I have come to realize, but I wasn’t about to stop her. Something about the act, even though it was not that directly pleasurable, soaked me. As she started to push the toy deeper into me, I whimpered in pain, but that was drowned out by the moans that I could not contain. She was controlling me. I was doing what she wanted, and that thought alone made me cum.

“She wasn’t wearing the harness right, and was inside me for a very long time before the toy made her orgasm from fucking me. When she was done, and out of me, I turned around and looked at her with what must have been pitiful eyes, because she awed at me, and pressed her body to me. We held each other and kissed, until her afterglow faded.

“We took some time to catch our breath, and hide the toy from her mother. When we were convinced that her standard hiding spot was good enough, we returned to her bed, me still nude, and her still in her skirt. She had lost her top along the way.

“I lay in her arms for a little while, kissing her occasionally and blushing the entire time. I let my hands hold her sides, whilst hers caressed my arms and back. Had I known what I was doing then, and been a little bit braver, I would have gone down on her, right then. I don’t know if my inexperience saved or ruined the moment, but I am glad to have that moment seared into my memory forever.”

The woman was almost upbeat while recounting her tale, but when she got to the end, her depressed tone returned. She reached up to cup Sam’s cheek. “Don’t let her go.” The woman stayed in Sam’s arms. “How did you meet your girlfriend?”

Sam smiled a little. “Our last names are one letter off. We were assigned lockers and desks next to each other for every class we shared, which in our freshman year was a lot of classes. Is that the question you wanted to ask though?”

The woman thought about it, and responded flatly. “No. It isn’t.”

“Sine qua non - Without which, there is nothing; it’s a Latin phrase that my girlfriend told me. She told me than when she thought of me, and the thought of being without me, it was like looking into oblivion. She talks like that, especially when she is on one of her sci-fi kicks. I have to say, it’s apt for how she makes me feel.”

Sam fell silent for quite some time, and just laid there, stroking the head of the older woman at her breast. It was not long before the woman’s soft sobs were audible. Sam started to feel miserable; she had done more damage than good and she knew it.

“Please.” The woman pleaded softly. “Keep talking. I don’t care about what.” The woman could sense Sam’s growing discomfort at the idea of idle rambling. “Tell me about when you first met… made love to… your step mother.” She made that request hoping it would not bring forth more regret and despair in herself regarding her own lost love.

“My step mother was, and still is, a fitness instructor at the gym my mother went to at the time, when I was about ten.” Sam took a deep breath, and relaxed, resolute in the fact that she would be doing no more harm with this story. She hoped she wouldn’t at least. “One day, mom brought her home, I don’t know how, and made love to her. She had intended it to be a one-night-stand like most of her lovers, for fear that my soon to be stepmother would find out about the relationship she had with her daughters, and turn her in. That changed the next morning.

“I had woken up atypically late for school that day, and was rushing through my morning preparation. I am not one to skip a shower, and apparently neither was she… my stepmother. She hadn’t started the water, but had drawn the curtain when I entered the bathroom. I was tired and didn’t notice she was in the shower before I stripped myself of what little clothing I slept in the night before and stepped into the tub.

“She was gorgeous; slender, tanned with no tan lines, and her breasts were not too big. I hate huge breasts; they look painful. She had blonde hair, but she was a fake blonde; she had highlights and lowlights. It didn’t look fake, but if you know what to look for, you knew that she was a natural brunette. She had no body hair, save the slightest hint of stubble on her sex; had she been home the night before, she would have shaved it.

“She stared at me for quite a while, in shock I’m sure. I stared at her for just as long, but I was still trying to get my bearings. I did not know who she was, though I could have guessed it was one of my mother’s soon to be cast away lovers. It was a shame, I remember thinking, that she cast away so many attractive women. Before she could speak, I could smell her arousal. That smell is the best part of waking up, no matter what the Folgers jingle says.” That comment drew a chuckle from the woman.

Sam continued. “I held my finger to my lips while grinning to her. I wanted her to remain quiet, which she did for the most part. I slowly approached her as you would a wild animal, no sudden movements, keeping myself small as to not scare her away. I pressed my body softly to hers, letting my face nuzzle against her chest. She was tense and hesitant. I knew I would have to lead if this were to work.

“I wrapped my lips around one of her nipples and suckled gently, my hands glided over her hips and thighs. When she relaxed some, I moved a hand to her belly, caressing it softly, each movement taking my fingers lower. I did not touch her sex at first; I moved past it and caressed her inner thigh, which caused her legs to wobble. She stepped back, and a pain of fear jabbed my spine.

“She grabbed onto the towel rack above and behind her head, closed her eyes, and took deep breaths. When she opened them, she nodded to me. I remember feeling victorious then. I knew this would work, and she would not flee. I moved to her again, placing my hands and lips where they had been prior. Her body reacted the same as it did before, but with her new bracing, she remained steady. I let her get comfortable with me touching her before I slid my hand up and cupped her sex.

“Despite appearances, her sex was smooth to the touch, which made it easier to caress and massage. Her arousal didn’t hurt matters either; she was soaking wet. I pressed my finger between her lips to find her clit whilst craning my neck so my mouth could meet hers. She kissed eagerly, and I found that cute, and reassuring. As my finger glided back and forth slowly across the sensitive nub, she began to moan into my mouth. When my fingertip pressed against her entrance, it was only there long enough to feel her contract in orgasm.

“When she had regained herself at least a little, she took my hand from her sex. She broke the kiss, and brought my hand to her lips, where she somewhat lewdly sucked my fingers clean. It was about then that mom opened the curtain. God, if there was more time, I’m sure she would have joined us. I think she fell in love with my stepmom right there. There is no sexy ending to this story… I still needed to get clean and get to school, and that’s what I did, rather hastily.”

The woman sighed contentedly. “Thank you.” The women laid in silence for what seemed like hours but couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. “What now?” The woman asked the question not of what they were to do next in the moment, but of the essential nature of love and life, and all which was worth living. She was lying to herself. She was asking the girl what to do next in her love life; her specific dilemma.

“We have done for each other, all that we can do. It’s time to go home, and make some decisions.”

The Woman

“I’m Sorry.” It was all the woman could say. She was rubbing her cheek to brush away the sting from the hard slap it just endured.

“Three years? Three FUCKING years? For what? You’re just throwing me away? Walking out? Fuck your apology.” The woman’s girlfriend was dripping in tears as she threw all of the woman’s possessions from the apartment. “Get out! Go to your fucking whore!”

The woman couldn’t think of anything to say. She felt relieved, but torn inside for hurting her now ex so badly. She left the apartment, abandoning most of her belongings, never to see her girlfriend again.

Sam and Brook

Brook sat at her workbench with a soldering iron in hand. She was messing with some piece of electronics, changing it so it could do what she wanted, instead of what it was originally intended to do. She was not trying actively to ignore Sam, but was ignoring her nonetheless; such is the nature of her hobbies.

“What are you doing, babe?” Sam sounded genuinely curious, and might have actually been so.

“I'm adding a serial port to my FON.” Brook answered flatly; she was trying to concentrate on not releasing the magic blue smoke that made the small piece of consumer electronics work.

“Oh.” Sam sounded a little deflated and disinterested. “You know, some of this stuff will be hard to move to my house.”

“I guess… Wait, what?” Brook put the tool down, and turned to look at her love.

“I talked to my moms. They would love for you to move in with us… Excited even.”

“Why? What brought that up?”

Sam bit her lip, and slipped out of her chair. She pulled a small box out of her purse and dropped to one knee, holding it up to Brook.