Michelle 2: Confessions of a Teen Seductress

Michelle, whom we met in an earlier piece, shares some of the
adventures of a sexually aggressive teen seductress. MF, FF, MMF,
rp.

You may remember me. I'm the voyeur who, when I last left you, was
sharing my most powerful sexual memory: watching Michelle, the
sixteen-year-old with the perfect proportions, making love with
balletic grace for several hours with Scott, her equally
perfect physical teen lover. If there is a more moving sight
than watching Michelle on top, her breasts swaying tightly,
keeping Scott from moving and repeatedly impaling herself on his
cock, it has somehow passed me by. I never really watched many
porn flicks, maybe one a year, but after seeing Michelle and
Scott in action together, I didn't watch any porn or even soft
core, for twenty years. There was simply nothing that could
possible top those sexual images. If you you'd like to start
there, and I recommend it, Michelle can be found at this web
address.

I remember when I started to go out with Michelle's mother, Ann.
At that point Michelle was 12-13 and I paid very little attention
to her. I remember she had a T-shirt she had appropriated from
her older brother. It had the name of a punk band, Blasting Caps,
on it, as well as graphics signifying little explosions. She
would wear it around the house with her white cotton underwear. I
didn't think a thing about it. A year or so later she was walking
around in that same T-shirt, although now it contained serious
breasts pushing half-inch nipples behind it, directly under two
of the little explosion graphics. It was a thrill just to watch
Michelle breathe in that T-shirt. Throw in the tiny bikini
underwear she then started wearing and you had her usual
ensemble. Suddenly we had a 14-year-old Playmate strutting around
our house and I was feeling like a child molester waiting to
happen. More than once the sight of her drove the air from my
lungs. I couldn't tell at that point if Michelle simply didn't know
she was a knockout or whether she dressed as casually as she did
because she knew exactly how she looked. I came to understand
that the answer was more the latter. She spent years practicing
and developing her sexual power.

And then one night I accidentally saw her au naturel, discovering
that she was one of those rare females who look far better out of
clothes than in them. At that point, I was living with Ann
(Michelle's mother) in their house and one night I was walking
down the hall to get to my bedroom but also, coincidentally,
toward the bathroom. Ann suddenly opened the bathroom door from
the inside and I noticed two things in milliseconds: the first
was that Michelle, standing beside the bathroom sink, was facing
me, nude with the dark triangle and perfect breasts, the kind
that females prayed and paid for, and second, that the bathroom
curtain beside her was wide open. When Michelle saw me there was
none of that coyness you might expect in a moment like this. She
simply looked at me as if to say, Well, how do you like me? Ann
saw me then, closed the door, but stayed in the bathroom. I
immediately walked out the front door and around the side of the
house, where at the bathroom window I could view that body at my
leisure. When I came close to the window, I could see all of her
and she was intoxicating. Her nipples, fully erect, pointed
slightly upward and I watched as her breasts bounced oh-so-firmly
as she dried her hair. She pivoted gracefully several times,
presenting that perfect ass to me, unblemished and topped with
two small dimples. Her ass was the reason that thongs were
invented, but I preferred her without underwear, and always
would.  I came out to look four more times, oblivious to
passers-by in the street and to the possibility of being
arrested. At that point I became hooked on the drug that was her
body.

About a month after that experience, I walked into the kitchen
and found Michelle standing behind the refrigerator door. She was
wearing a T-shirt but when I strolled over and stood looked into
the refrigerator, I noticed very quickly that she was wearing
see-through bikini underwear. I was so flummoxed that I
straight-out asked her, What exactly is the point of invisible
underwear? And she looked at me and said, If you don't like it,
don't look at it. Not a statement I expected from a 14-year-old.
And then she pivoted, leaving the kitchen, and I moved slowly
backwards to the kitchen door to watch her tight little ass swing
its way back to the bedrooms. How that tiny waist could be over
that ass and under those breasts was a wonder of nature. At the
very end of the hall, just when she was ready to turn right, she
shoved her right hip toward me and slowly peered at me over her
right shoulder. Her smile was far beyond her years. I suddenly
gasped as I discovered Id been holding my breath during her long
walk down the hall. She had that kind of effect on people.

I spent the next five years creating ways to see Michelle nude
and in action. As one example of creating such opportunities,
between my bedroom and the bathroom there was a closet whose back
wall abutted the back of the bathroom medicine cabinet. I had cut
a small hole through the wall and the back of the cabinet,
through which I was able to watch Michelle's pre- and post-shower
activities.  Sometimes I was even lucky enough to see her having
sex with herself or with various male teens. Over the five years
I was watching her, for example, I was fortunate enough to see
her move from giving grade school to post-doctoral blow jobs. To
judge by the faces of those whose cocks she locked lips on, the
things she could do with her mouth, hands, and suction beggared
the imagination.

The spyhole was also the perfect place from which to watch her
because the six-foot mirror in the bathroom was directly to the
left of my view. Thus I was able to watch Michelle trying on
hundreds of outfits. It was very moving to watch her move from
nudity to dancing outfits, trying to determine which was the most
revealing. It almost made me think there might in fact be a
benevolent God.  Michelle seemed to be auditioning for me: does
this outfit make me look my sexiest? How do you like my nipples
in this outfit?  I grew to know knew her every curve, dimple, and
mole.

And some of those outfits. I recall a green dress, knee-length,
of some material like silk, as tight on her body as skin on a
seal. I could see not only her nipples but, as she came closer to
the mirror, individual bumps on her nipples. Then there was the
midnight blue number, almost floor length, made of something like
rayon, that flowed down and over her body. She came out of the
bathroom to the living room, where I had just arrived, twirled in
it for me and asked how I liked it. I saw the line of her
underwear and I said, I thought under my breath, Pity. She asked
what was wrong and I said her underwear ruined the line of her
dress. She didn't even pause, reaching under her dress with both
hands, lifting it and pulling her bikinis down, stepping out of
them, and handing them to me. They were black, tiny, and still
warm.

She gave me a look as if to say, 'I know what you're going to do
with those' and disappeared out the front door. As I watched her
walk to the car, I could see the dress flowing over her and,
every other step, a perfect outline of her ass. I remember
thinking that tonight there were going to be many pleased males
and not a few unpleased females.

And then there were the many short skirts. She had a black one
that reached only about three inches beneath her crotch. She
would dance in the mirror, turning and twisting so she could see
what sort of movement uncovered her panties. That was moving
enough but then she shocked me by taking off her underwear and
making the same movements. What I realized was that Michelle was
coordinated and graceful enough to dance wildly and yet only
flash people whom she wanted to. I saw her sit down in that dress
and while there was a great deal of leg and some ass showing, she
could easily deny the view between her legs.

The challenge I occasionally faced at the spyhole was that the
outer door to the medicine cabinet was sometimes closed. After
some thinking, I found that when I heard Michelle pull back the
curtain to enter the shower, I could take a bent coat hanger and
push through the hole, opening the cabinet door. That allowed me
to watch at least the nude post-shower festival--hair drying,
make-up, dressing and the occasional bathroom sex. One night,
however, when I was sure Michelle was in the shower, I pushed the
medicine cabinet door open to see Michelle looking directly at
the hanger, the hole, and me. It was a bad moment, generating the
sickest of feelings in my gut. I figured I would never see
Michelle or her mother again. But Michelle had surprised me. Not
only did she not turn me in, but it seemed to me that she
actually made sure the medicine cabinet door was open whenever
she was in the bathroom. Michelle and I had never discussed it
but Id always been curious why she had done that.

I am now in my middle sixties and have been married to Michelle's
mother for twenty-five years. My opportunities now for voyeurism
are totally limited; I have no desire to cruise the neighborhood
and get arrested as a senior deviant. Moreover, my chances of
finding another body like Michelles at 14-19 were non-existent. 
Michelle is now in her mid 40s, married, childless, and still
well proportioned. She is also, unfortunately, suffering from
several chronic auto-immune diseases that have kept her mostly
bedridden over the last ten years. That someone so vital could be
bedridden is one of those terrible tragedies that sometimes
happen to good people. Luckily for this tale, her memory was
functioning very well.

Twelve months ago I was traveling on business in the West, where
Michelle lives, and I wanted to spend some time with her because,
aside from everything else, we were friends. When I had visited
her in the past, though, even if she were feeling bad, she always
felt as if she had to entertain me, which led to her getting
tired really fast. So when I knocked and walked into her bedroom,
I was determined to not let her take the social initiative. I
said, Michelle, what can we do that doesn't involve your
entertaining me?

Her reaction surprised me. She giggled. I took a closer look at
her and her pupils told me she was clearly drugged. She said she
had taken two major pain pills because of her internal problems
and didn't have the IQ to entertain me anyway. She asked what her
choices were to be entertained. I said I would happily rub her
feet, read to her, tell amusing stories, anything really. She
semi-blearily asked if there were anything else. Just tossing it
off, I said, Well, we could play twenty questions. Michelle
brightened a little at that and said, There have been a few
questions that Id love to ask you. And I said, I feel exactly the
same way. She then asked me, How many times did you watch me
having sex?

It was like being hit in the face with a large fish. We had never
discussed this, even after she had caught me looking at her that
one evening.  But I thought, why not? Whats to lose? What follows
is an edited transcription of seven or so hours of me
interviewing Michelle that day and the following one. I had
turned on the miniature tape recorder I always carried before
asking her if it was all right. I just knew it would be.


A: You're not going to like my answer.


M: Why not?


A: Because I can't really say. I never really counted. I can tell
you that I watched you have sex with roughly twenty guys. And I
know there were many more.


M: OK, I guess. I never counted either.


A: Many of your lovers were when you were fourteen, your first
and most active year of sexual activity. About six of those guys
were what I called thrust-comes that I never saw again.


M: Yes. I remember those days as well. Thrust-comes pretty well
describes some of them. Id just start to think about getting hot
and they would finish. I never saw them again either.


A: I remember your telling me later that if your lovers couldn't
go an hour, you never saw them again. I thought you were
exaggerating until I saw you in action. Now can I ask you two
questions?


M: I suppose I owe you two.


A: First (pointing to the recorder), do you mind if I tape this?
I don't want to forget anything.


M: Sure. I don't want you to forget anything either (giggle).


A: Second, why you didn't turn me in when you caught me? It was
terrifying at first because I loved, and still love, your mother
and didn't want to lose her.


M: Believe me, turning you in was my first thought. I was really
pissed. And I came within seconds of telling her. But two things
stopped me. One, I could tell she really cared about you. And
second, well, I found the idea of you watching gave me a little
buzz.


A: You're kidding.


M: Its a little hard to explain. But what I realized was that,
after I thought about it a little, the idea of you watching me
and whoever I was with made the whole thing more exciting.


A: I suppose voyeurs and exhibitionists are the ultimately
compatible couple.


M: Yeah. I guess I was an exhibitionist. (looking thoughtful) I
used to love wearing leotards without underwear to the
alternative school. I could watch the guys in my classes getting
hard-ons as they pretended not to look at me. The same thing
happened with some of the fathers of the guys I was going out
with and occasionally with the male teachers.  I once wore a
skirt split up to my hip, a T-shirt and no underwear to history
class. When I spread my legs, my teacher had to sit down. It was
pretty funny.


A: For you, I'm sure.


M: Did you notice that I even helped you by making sure the
cabinet door was open so you could see into the bathroom?


A: I know you did and I thank you for that. It seemed that after
that, you had a great deal more sex in the bathroom.


M: I knew then that I was not only having sex but putting on a
show. I really got into it in a way I hadn't before. Can I ask you
another question?


A: Only if you let me ask one after it.


M: (still looking a little looped) What was the most exciting
thing you ever saw me do in the bathroom?


A: That covers a great deal of ground. Do you mean by yourself or
with someone else?


M: Lets start with me by myself. What did you see?


A: This happened before you caught me. It was a Saturday
afternoon. You went into the bathroom, locked the door, and I
peeled myself against the hole in my closet. You stripped, got in
the shower and then I read while I waited for you to turn off the
water. When that happened, I returned to the spyhole and what
happened was close to magical. You had laid on the washer a
complete white negligee outfit, garter belts, panties, wrapper,
stockings, etc., and they all seemed to be made of some invisible
fabric. But the real fun was watching your reverse strip tease.


M: I don't follow.


A: Well, you started nude, always heart pounding for me, and
then, one by one, you put on each part of the invisible negligee
outfit. After one piece was on, you pivoted all the way around in
the mirror to look at it, so I got to see you in each piece from
all possible angles. Let me tell you, kid, you had no bad sides.
And you did it with every item in the outfit. I loved watching
you check out your backside with the silk stockings. You even
practiced flashing yourself in your trench coat at the mirror
three times. That got both of us excited. I had to remind myself
to breathe as I watched you briefly stroking your sex. When you
were almost done dressing, if you could call it that--I walked
out to the living room and waited. You showed up about five
minutes later wearing the trench coat. I commented on your
white-lined silk stockings and asked exactly what you were
wearing. You said, Never you mind, and then took off for Scotts.
What happened then?


M: Oh Scott was watching basketball, so I just took off the
trench coat and sat down in a wing chair. At one point he turned
around and that was it for basketball, although what we did was a
lot like the NBA--a great deal of scoring and no defense.


A: I'm sure.


M: Did anyone else ever watch me?


A: I think it was my turn to ask a question but Ill catch up.
Well, there was the night of the roofers.


M: The night of the roofers?


A: That was when I shared you and Scott with four workers
replacing the next-door neighbor's roof.


M: Tell me about that. I don't remember it at all.


A: You wouldn't. It was about 7:30 one evening, starting to get
dark. I heard you telling your mother you were going to hop into
the shower, so I headed for my spy hole. I noticed when I stepped
into the closet that there was hammering coming from next door.
The neighbor lady was having a new roof put on. I didn't think a
thing about it for about thirty seconds, but then you came
through the bathroom door, whipped off your pink bathrobe and
stood there, nude and heart-stopping. You turned on the radio and
raised the volume. Then you looked at yourself for a while in the
mirror. I was having trouble swallowing. I noticed, though, that
the hammering next door had stopped. I turned off my bedroom
light, went to the window and found four roofers all lying down
on the side of the roof closest to the bathroom, not moving,
holding on for dear life, their eyes glued on you.


M: I never knew. At that point, it hadn't even occurred to me that
you were watching me, much less others.


A: It only happened the one time so far as I know. I know you
went to the bathroom and then you were walking to the closed
bathroom door when it opened. You jumped a little, bouncing
wonderfully, until you saw it was Scott, wearing jeans shorts,
his favorite Summer outfit.


M: Oboy do I remember. Jean shorts without underwear. Those
shorts were kind of like a sexual ATM. And I knew exactly what
lever to pull.


A: You demonstrated that very quickly in the bathroom. You two
kissed and then your hands went directly to his shorts, which
instantly dropped to the ground, leaving Scott naked, his cock
pointing at you. You two hug closely and, as he turned you
around,  your ass facing me, I saw his cock coming out under your
ass and between your legs, which was a little funny. You two
could have made a fortune in porn flicks.


M: Its funny. Almost every day I say to myself how glad I am that
I didn't live in a time where everyone has digital video cameras
or cell phones. I can't help feeling that someone would have
gotten me sooner or later.


A: Hell, I would have gotten you.


M: Then what happened in the bathroom?


A: You knelt, pushed him back so he was sitting on the washing
machine, facing me, showing the back of your head and that tiny
waist over the even-greater ass. I remember thinking your
backside might have caused Hugh Hefner to start another magazine,
strictly for nude photographs of you. It was clear that you were
taking him into your mouth. Your head started slowly bobbing and
he got an almost angelic look on his face. Because the roofers
were looking at this sideways, though, they had a much better
view, which they must have loved. I watched Scott's face. At first
his head snapped back a little but then righted itself. His eyes
got glassy and then he shut them. His head seemed to be moving
with your head for a while and then, 4 or 5 minutes later, Scott's
eyes opened,  he exhaled loudly, wrapped his hands around your
head, pulled your head closer, and you started bobbing more
deeply. Over the radio music I could actually hear your sucking
sounds. His face scrunched up as if he were in pain and then
there were three long Ahhhhhhhhhhhhs.  I always thought there
could be a great documentary film made of your lovers faces as
you brought them in your mouth.


M: It was a sight I didn't get to see very much. My eyes were
almost always elsewhere. The view is the only downside to oral
sex. Then what happened?


A: I watched your neck thicken and your head bob as you swallowed
several times.


M: Yeah. That was Scott all right. Take all the sperm he shot
into me one way or another and I think we could have fathered an
entire generation. I always wondered what would have happened if
we had a baby together, aside from Mom shooting herself. Imagine
the bodies there could have been.


A: Ive already imagined it. Then you immediately went down on him
again. Scott wasn't surprised but the roofers and I were blown
away, so to speak. It was the first double blow job Id ever seen
and it took someone of Scott's virility, and your skills, to do
it. This time Scott wasn't looking anywhere but at your face as
you moved closer and then further away. What a view it must have
been.


M: Yeah. Scott liked to watch me suck him off. He said it really
turned him on to watch and feel his cock disappear into my mouth.
His favorite position for oral was to sit at the side of the bed
and have me suck and look up at him like a submissive slave girl.
It wasn't really my style but I was always willing to do it
because then I could choose the next four ways we could attack
each other.


A: That was the first double blow job I had ever seen. I was soon
to learn that, with certain of your lovers at least, it was one
of your signature moves.


M: And occasionally a triple blow job if the guy had made me feel
really special. Scott got several of those.


A: I have to ask you, How many times could he come without
getting soft?


M: He once went ten times with me but he probably could have gone
more. I never had so potent a lover. Hes still my very best. So
what happened then?


A: Then he stood you up and moved you so you were standing facing
and leaning over the washing machine, your back to me. I thought
for a second that he was going to have anal sex with you, as did
the roofers, I'm sure.


M: I never got into anal, although every lover I had tried to
screw my ass. Even Don (Michelle's best male friend, who was gay)
stroked my ass every once in a while we were changing in the
bathroom.


A: And yet I remember you saying that you thought your ass was
too small, which was laughable. The only adjective I ever heard
from anyone about your ass was tight, and it had nothing to do
with your being overly conservative.


M: Right (laughs. I tried anal several times but had to stop
because it hurt. Scott's cock was far too large for it to work,
although he did use his fingers to good advantage a few times.  I
couldn't picture myself coming that way, so what was the point? I
played with guys assholes. They certainly liked that--but no one
penetrated mine with his cock. But I interrupted you.


A: No problem. In a great moment, as you leaned over the washer,
I watched as Scott seemed to be having trouble entering you,
probably because of the angle and your height differences. Then
you tilted up your ass up like a dog in heat (I wish I had had
the roofers' view), and Scott entered you in the more traditional
way. His ass started moving in and out fairly slowly. And I could
see your head start lolling forward and then you were leaning
down against your arms on the washing machine top. You were
relatively quiet but I knew you were going to get more
demonstrative later. In about ten minutes, as he went faster and
deeper, I could hear you take some huge breaths and then cry out
several times when you climaxed. I never knew why you bothered to
play the music. Your climaxing was always louder than the radio.
Scott never left your body and after you calmed down a bit, he
started thrusting again, and after six or so minutes you climaxed
even more loudly. And then Scott left, limping a little, I
thought, (who could blame him?) and you got into the shower. What
you have to know is that the four roofers stayed perched on the
roof through your entire shower and then watched as you got
dressed. My guess is that they are still telling that story. How
often in life does a guy look casually to his right and see a
nude playmate? Now I get to ask some questions.


Tell me about what happened that Spring Break when you came back
calling yourself a rapist. You would never tell me the full story
and I know I asked ten times.


M: You'll understand why I didn't tell the story when you hear it.
I was 25 and it was my last Spring break trip. I could still pass
for 16. I went down alone to San Padre Island figuring to hook up
with somebody. I had laid my towel on the beach and had begun
putting sun tan lotion on my front as this guy appeared carrying
a six pack. He was a good six foot five and looked like Superman
should have looked. Every muscle was defined and he was clearly
an athlete, not a weight lifter. I looked up and blushed because
of what I wanted to do to him. He noticed and got a little vibe.
And I said, 'Would you like to do my back?' And he gave me a
blinding smile and said, 'I'd love to do your back.'


A: Was that when you hooked him?


M: Not exactly. The hook was only in his mouth at that point. I
think I hooked him when, facing him, I removed my top and slowly
rubbed suntan oil onto my breasts for a good sixty seconds. Then
I lay down on my stomach. It was clear he wasn't going anywhere
else after that.


A: How long were you on the beach?


M: Enough time so we could cover each other with oil about five
times--maybe four hours. He first started to apply the oil to my
back and took a very long time doing it--far longer than basic
application required. I would have let him rub me for the next
few months. He started rubbing parts of me in ways that went
beyond what would normally happen on a first date, but, hey, it
was Spring Break and he had great hands. At one point he was
rubbing up my sides and touched the outside of my breasts. I
raised up on my elbows a bit and he was able to tell very quickly
that my nipples were like ball bearings. After that and many
other applications, there was no way my breasts would get
sunburned in my lifetime.


Then I did his back and front. What became obvious to anyone
paying the slightest attention was that we never stopped to lie
in the sun. We were only interested in rubbing each other. The
moment I remember best was the first time he was on his stomach
and I was doing the back of his upper thighs. I reached down with
my right hand and held his cock until it got very hard and very
large, in my fingers. I love feeling a guy get big in my fingers.
I always thought it was the ultimate sexual compliment. By the
time the sun was moving down, we were so turned on that we had
long ago stopped talking. I'm sure others saw what we were doing
but we didn't really give a shit because nobody knew us and wed
certainly never see them again.


Then we saw it was getting dark. We took advantage of it a little
and did some things that were definitely not shown on the family
channel. Our bodies fit each other very well; he was big and I
was tight. Only then did we introduce ourselves. His name was
Denny; he said he was from Kansas, which I took to mean Kansas
University. I wanted to get him back to my room to rape him
repeatedly so I asked what his plans were. He said his plans
revolved around me but that he had promised some friends he would
drop by but that shouldn't take long. So we went, me figuring I
could lure him out of there very quickly. I wanted his cock in me
again, one way or another.


We got to the hotel room where his friends were staying. It was
packed--eleven couples and probably twice that many six packs and
bottles. They were a little loud but no one was out of control at
that point. Just laughing and farting around. The air
conditioning was on but not doing much good because of the number
of bodies in the room. Every light was on. All the girls were in
bikinis, most of the guys in Speedos, short cut-offs, no shirts,
and everybody but us had been drinking all day. It was about
eight in the evening, and there were two couples each on the two
queen-size beds and eight couples on the floor, including Denny
and me.


If the room had had a theme at that moment, it would have to be
extreme horniness. And then one of the couples on the queen-sized
bed closest to us moved to the next level. The guy (I knew no
names except for Denny) had been kissing his date passionately
and the girl was rubbing his hard-on through his Speedo. He
reached out and removed her top and started sucking on her
nipples. It was as if all inhibitions in the room dropped with
her top. Within ten seconds, every girl's top (including mine)
had been removed and the couple on the bed, now not aware of
anyone else, stepped it up again. The girl pulled his cock out
and went down on him as if his organ were her only source of
oxygen. He came very quickly and very loudly. Shortly thereafter,
both had removed their bathing suits, went to the missionary
position, and started to worship. I saw his ass go up and down
and then my attention was drawn by Denny, who had sunk his hand
down my bikini bottom and was fumbling about with good intentions
but not much accuracy. I could hear the fucking start around me.
I tore off my bikini bottoms. I never let modesty stand in the
way of having a good time.


Do you know what it's like to be in a room where there are twelve
couples screwing? You'd think the noise would be the first thing
you'd notice, but it wasn't. What I noticed and still think about
was the smell, a kind of pungent hormonal odor pervading the
room. It had never occurred to me that lust had a fragrance but
when you are surrounded by it in an enclosed space, there is a
sharp tang that somehow magnifies your drives.


Then there was the noise. Twenty four people breathing heavily
made the room sound like a TB ward. Then throw in the higher and
lower pitched moans and other sounds. Behind me I heard flesh
slapping and I turned to see a couple using the doggy style, the
guy smashing his front against her backside. Decent cock. The
girl was slamming her ass against his legs as close as it would
go. And then there was what I can only call the sound of the
gospel. It's amazing how many sinners use the word God while
sinning. And then there was the sound of a second climax, a guy
shouting out, which triggered a number of other low-pitched
shouts. There were a few dejected sounds of girls, which I took
to be complaints that they had not come. I never did hear any of
the girls climax. Seemed to me totally wasteful on their part. I
almost stood up to lecture them on how to achieve satisfaction.
But there was this pumping cock in me.


I heard all the coming and flipped Denny over, getting on top so
I could control the outcome. I tightened my cunt until Denny was
about to climax and then loosened it and grabbed him with my
hands so he wouldn't climax (he was more than a little shocked)
but I explained I wanted to screw some more. At that point I was
unaware of what else was going on but when I finally tightened up
and pumped hard, we ended up climaxing together very loudly (you
know how I can be). Apparently we were the last ones to come (and
I was the only girl to do so) because while we were lying there
spent, there was loud applause which I realized was directed at
us. Looking back, since most of the people in the room were in
his school, I knew that on that day the Legend of Denny was born.
I did notice, though, that none of the guys were watching Denny.


At this point all 24 of us were nude and Id be willing to bet
that some of those people still have rug burns. I was nowhere
near satisfied though. Everyone else was recovering but I went
down on him. When I first put his cock in my mouth, he cringed a
little but then, when I took my first suck, he fell back and
started breathing heavily. I later found that his only previous
blowjob was amateurish and tooth-filled. Within seconds, though,
he knew I was no amateur and he sank into a dazed ecstasy until
he came so hard I almost choked. Again there was scattered
applause.


We then stood up, took nude bows, hastily put on our bathing
suits, and went back to my room. We took a shower to remove the
sun tan oil and fucked each other blind. About two in the
morning, when he was even testing even my staying power, he asked
what grade I was in. I said, Come again? He said, Id love to but
first tell me what grade you're in. I tentatively asked, What
grade are you in? and he said he was in the eleventh. He was
seventeen, in high school, and I was suddenly a statutory rapist.
Denny, of course, wouldn't have turned me in, even if someone held
a gun to his head. I probably would have gathered he was young if
we had talked more but all we really did was foreplay and screw
each other.


I spent the rest of the week training him--basic female anatomy
(he didn't know the girls came too, he didn't know what a clitoris
was, let alone where it was or how to handle it). I taught him
about going down, the strengths and weaknesses of various kinds
of licking. He didn't want to go down on me at first--said it was
gross. But when I said that if he wouldn't go down on me, I'd
never suck him off again, his head was a blur to my crotch. It
was really fun to control this fabulous male body, telling him
how to do me, and by extension, other girls. And during that
week, he became very well trained and I had great sex six or
seven times a day. Wed be lying in bed, Id point between my legs,
and Id swear his tongue would get hard. Bless the stamina of
seventeen year-olds.


A: How else did you train him?


M: Very basic stuff that tends to elude most high schoolers. I
told him about the importance of non-sexual touching--footrubs,
body massages--listening, how never to talk about sex he'd had,
and sexual generosity, giving to get. Stuff like letting the girl
come first. To him these were revolutionary ideas, but he could
tell by my skills that I knew what I was talking about. I knew I
was sending him back as a sexual warrior where the girls wouldn't
stand a chance against him, particularly after some of his female
classmates had seen him in action. He was set for life. He wrote
to me for five or six years afterward?until I met Ron (Michelle's
husband). To hear Denny tell it, he had had sex with every girl
at his high school. And then he did actually end up at the
University of Kansas. So anyway--thats how I became a rapist. And
its why I never told you the story.


A: God. I'm just picturing what it must have been like for a 17
year-old to suddenly find you in his bed. I always thought that
sexually you were very much like a guy. Not your looks certainly
but when you saw someone you wanted to screw, you screwed them.


M: It was better than being a guy because I could have every
person, male or female, I wanted, except the gay males, although
I probably could have screwed Don if Id really wanted to. I was
always the aggressor, which didn't bother even the most
traditional guys. They wanted to get in my body any way they
could.


A: Did you ever have sex with a girl?


M: Only once but it wasn't that big a deal.


A: It never is with you. You never seem to realize that not
everyone got the offers you did. How did it start with the girl?


M: I was seventeen and so was Lainie, who was at the alternative
high school with me.  She was blonde, very tall, and very gay.
One afternoon, I was talking with a group of girls about the
hassles of going out dancing. All I wanted to do was dance but
guys kept coming on to me. Lainie looked me a little funny and
said that I was going to the wrong clubs. She said I should go to
one of her clubs and I wouldn't keep getting hit on. I said, 'You
just want to get in my pants.' And she said, 'I'd love to get into
your pants but what I'm saying about the dancing is true.' Shyness
never held her back, which you had to admire. She was kind of
like a lesbian me.


Lainie and I talked and joked about it but one weekend I said,
'OK, if you can keep your hands off me, Ill go dancing with you.'
To which she replied, 'I think I can probably control myself. Ill
pick you up.'


A: I think I remember that. We were shocked when the car pulled
up and this gorgeous six-foot blonde in a tiny skirt came up and
asked for you.


M: Yes, I remember but at that point I wasn't going to lay it all
out for you.


A: Where did the two of you go dancing?


M: It was a club called Pink Velvet. Subtle, isn't it? They had a
great all-girl band and when we walked in, the atmosphere was
strangely different. And then I saw that there were virtually no
guys in the whole club. I think what I felt was the absence of
testosterone. Lainie and I started to dance and we really got
into it. I was dancing for a good half hour when someone tapped
Lainie on the shoulder and asked to cut in. Lainie said we were
together. When the second woman tried to cut in, Lainie said the
same thing. I asked about her comment that I would not get hit on
and whether there was anything we could do to stop it. And she
said, 'Yes, but I'm not sure how you'll react to it.


What are you talking about?


'Well, if you kiss me, the girls will back off because that will
show them that we are together.'


How do I know this isnt a ploy to get a kiss from me?


'Well, Id love to kiss you but it really is the only way to stop
them from cutting in.'


So I said, 'OK' and kissed her on the cheek, at which she laughed
and shook her head. I asked what was wrong.


She said, 'Well, now everyone thinks were sisters and there will
be lots of cutting in.'


OK, I get the picture.


And I took her head in my hands and gave her an open-mouthed kiss
that lasted for maybe a minute. When I backed away, she still had
her eyes shut and had to shake her head to get back to dancing.
All she said was that that should certainly keep others away for
a while. So we kept dancing and when I would see someone start to
move in behind Lainie, I would kiss her.


And then it started to get interesting. I had never had sexual
feelings for girls but I started getting into the kissing because
it was so different from kissing guys. When we kissed, I didn't
feel invaded by her tongue so much as deliciously entered. There
was no overt aggression on Lainie's part but she always responded
in a way that made me want to respond as well. And while I
started out by faking my kissing, about an hour into the dancing,
I wasn't faking anymore. I was kissing her with a passion that
surprised both of us. And I was sometimes kissing her when there
wasn't someone poised to cut in. And the slow dances were amazing,
holding her body tightly against mine. And no one else there even
cared. I was liking the Pink Velvet a whole lot.


A: And then what happened?


M: At about 2:30 we drove home. I was sitting close to her and we
were holding hands and I was stirred in a way that was exciting
and totally new. When we got to the house, she walked me to the
door and gave me a good-night kiss which I returned three-fold.
And then I had to ask her if shed like to come in. And she said,
'Oh, yeah.'


We ended up in my room with the door shut and I wasn't quite sure
what I wanted to do but she saved me from making any decisions
when she pulled out two grams of cocaine. We cut it and cut it
and then snorted an entire gram, which left us much freer than we
had been all night, and that was saying a great deal. We had both
been sweating and our dresses were a mess. Lainie reached behind
her, popped a button and her strapless mini-dress hit the floor,
leaving her nude. I eyed her in a way I had never eyed a woman
and dropped my own dress very quickly. We kissed, a long slow wet
kiss that curled my toes.


Lainie said, I think we should take a shower. And I agreed. We
walked to the bathroom nude. I don't know whether you caught any
of that?


A: No. You two were quiet. And at 3:00 I'm not very observant. How
did the shower go?


M: Amazingly. You know what cocaine does to your nerve endings.
When she soaped me up, front and back, I just shut my eyes and I
could swear I saw her touching me, great swatches of electric
colors. And I loved touching her because I knew the female body
way better than the male body. And we very nearly brought each
other.


At this point there was no doubt about us having sex. We went
back into the bedroom and did the rest of the cocaine and we both
knew that whatever we ended up doing was going to last the rest
of the night. We were flying.


A: How did the sex start?


M: It had started on the dance floor, in the car, and in the
shower. It started again when I got on the bed, on top of the
covers and she walked over and knelt at the bottom of the bed and
kissed the arch of my foot with what felt like electric lips. She
moved her mouth very slowly up my leg. She stopped just short of
my sweet spot. I could feel my body was shaking a little in
anticipation. When she started kissing on the arch of my other
foot, I know I moaned a little in frustration as she worked her
way up my other leg. By that time she got close to my sex, I
could have cared less whether there was a penis involved or not.


She was between my legs, looked up at me and said, Think about
the best sex you've ever had with Scott. I did and then felt her
hands gently pulling my genital folds apart and felt her tonguing
me in little circles around and sometimes over my clitoris. This
was not something Scott did very well but Lainie had clearly had
a great deal of practice (which figures, right?). She had me
rising and falling in passion. She would bring me to the very
edge of coming, usually by a strategic suck, and then back away,
letting me calm down a little. She must have done that four or
five times and I was ready to explode. I actually begged her to
bring me (which Ive never done with a guy). She then bent down,
raising my legs a little, and proceeded to take me up and over a
climax that started in my very soul and then moved out to every
nerve in my body. I know I screamed.


A: Yes. That I do remember. And I went around to look in the
window but for some reason, the curtains were closed, a real
rarity--so I couldn't see anything. What happened in your bedroom
after you came?


M: I went down on her. I found it was surprisingly easy. Not only
was I not repelled, I did it with gusto. I wanted to show my
appreciation big time. She was as sopping as I was and I brought
her several times with my tongue and then we started again.


I'm not sure how many times we brought each other with our mouths
and fingers and legs. I do remember thinking that the great thing
about girl-girl sex was that neither of us had to wait for an
erection to appear. We just kept screwing. I do remember one
amazing scissoring position she started, in which we were able to
rub our clitorises together, coming three or four times in a row.
 Sweet friction. And only when the sun was very high did we stop.
The last thing I remember was rolling over and saying, All along
this was only a ploy to get into my pants, wasn't it? To which she
replied, Michelle, my dear, you aren't wearing any pants. She had
me there.


When we both came out to lunch, I remember you looking shocked.


A: Well, I had heard you climax a bunch of times (as did everyone
else in the house) and just imagined it was Scott or some guy. I
was unprepared for the tall blonde with the great breasts I had
seen the previous night.


M: So was I, initially.


A: And did you ever have sex with a girl again?


M: No. I had other offers from gay and even a few straight girls
but was never tempted again. I never came across as skilled a
seductress as Lainie was. Why try to top perfection?


A: Multiple partners?


M: Sure did.


A: Smartass. I mean at the same time.


M: Several times.


A: Which time do you remember best?


M: Ah, yes. I was dancing in a club downtown that closed long
ago. A great band and I was swinging my booty in a skirt so short
it was probably illegal. Many guys tried to pick me up but most
lacked any sort of style. While I was dancing, I suddenly saw a
very tall brown-haired handsome man in front of me, who was
dancing with me by copying my moves. He was smiling at me. When I
started to change my moves, he changed right along with me. Then
he started changing his moves on the floor and I moved right
along with him. There was a little freak dancing involved,
although at that point, the term hadn't been invented. After
about thirty minutes of dancing, both of us were breathing pretty
heavy and he leaned over and said, 'I'm going out to elevate my
mood. Would you like to join me?'


We were in an alley beside the club and he pulled out a joint,
lit it, hit it, and then handed it to me. I did a major-league
inhale and at the end felt a little dizzy. As he took his hit, he
seemed to be getting smaller and larger as I watched him. I took
the joint again and felt as if I weighed about twelve ounces. My
God, that was great dope. He introduced himself as Jack and we
stared at each other for a while, the act of conversation beyond
either of us. We then headed back to the dance floor. I have no
idea how well or badly I danced but it seemed to me that I was
dancing better than anyone ever had since the creation of the
world--and I was feeling as if that world were all mine. Jack
obviously felt the same way and we seemed to be in this little
cocoon where all things were absolutely right. At this point my
bladder spoke to me and so I told Jack where I was going and
headed to the bathroom. He followed. When I came out later than I
expected (the girls' bathrooms in clubs never had enough toilets)
Jack was waiting for me outside the door.


We went back to dancing. There were a few slow dances (I think of
them as grinders)where we seemed to get closer than possible. I
could feel his heart beating and his cock pressing. Neither of us
was embarrassed at all. We just kept on pushing. We danced for a
while and then suddenly, there was pressure from behind me.
Someone was dancing very close. It seemed an imposition so I
swirled my head around and there was Jack. But Jack was also in
front of me. It took me a second to make sure it wasn't the drugs
but then I smiled, looked at the both of them, and blushed hard.


The Jack I'd just been dancing with leaned forward and yelled to
me, 'Why are you blushing?' And I said, 'Because I was just
considering the possibilities.' Jack then introduced me to Edward,
his identical twin.


We three got out of there in a hurry and we drove in separate
cars back to their place on the west side. They obviously had
some money because there was an indoor hot tub under an open
skylight where we all found ourselves (our clothes dropping as we
came through the front door). I sat in what they called the
throne of honor as they turned on and adjusted the jets.  I found
that, without moving, I could climax again and again. And I did.
I suppose I was just trying to be polite.


A: Right. How did the twins like that?


M: They were hard before we even got in the hot tub. Since I was
screaming at every climax, they liked it a great deal. I reached
out and felt both of them--somehow they were even harder. They
would alternate moving forward and I found myself kissing each of
them and felt four hands all over me. I had to move off the
throne then because I really wanted someone?s warm cock in me.


A: Ive always wondered about the logistics of a threesome.


M: I think if it goes well, there are no logistics. It just
happens. And it certainly happened that night. We left the hot
tub and ended up on one of their king-sized beds. There were
mirrors everywhere (clearly a bachelor pad) where when we
screwed, ten other couples were screwing as well. All three of us
loved that. It all became a blur then. As I said before, I don't
like to get anal (although I like giving it), but I have two
other openings and two hands and I believe we explored every
possible combination. I remember sucking off one of them as we
lay facing each other on our sides while the other twin, lying on
his side behind me, slowly thrust into me. Both of them came at
the same time, which tuned out to be more than coincidence. I
remember kneeling between them as they both lay on their backs,
pumping my hands up and down on their cocks and then, at the same
time, feeling their twin climaxes dribble over my fingers.
Clearly the twins were able to communicate with each other in
some interesting ways. They had great stamina, bless them. And at
one point, they introduced me to a new position that was
phenomenal.


A: Details please?


M: One of the brothers lay down on his back and moved my hips
over his face, head to head. He said he wanted to lick me until I
squirmed. I was all for that. I lowered myself down on his
tongue, which went to work immediately. I loved this position and
Scott seldom did it. It was going great and then I felt the other
twin (who cared about names at a time like this?) pushed my back
so my shoulders were closer to the ground. Then I felt his cock
sinking into me from behind. This was almost too much, one guy
licking and sucking my clitoris and the other thrusting away. At
one point I remember I almost blacked out. And then the guy
thrusting and I both climaxed.


A: And what about the twin on the bottom?


M: Well, he had a wet, covered face.


A: And he was ok with that?


M: After I licked his face clean and brought him in my mouth he
was. Of course while I was doing that, my ass was in the air and
the other twin entered me again. It was great. Every time one of
my holes was uncovered, it was filled very quickly. And on and
on. I was so sore the next day that I actually had to use
lubricant to give them good-bye sex. For me a first.


A: Did you ever see them again?


M: Twice more but there were more people involved in those
experiences.


A: OK. maybe later. What would you say was your strangest sex
experience?


M: HHmmmm. That would have to be in the year and a half I was in
college. My roommate flunked out freshman year and I was moved to
what was primarily a black dorm. They put me in with Tina, a very
attractive black girl. We got along fine. The problem was her
boyfriend, who insisted on having sex in Tina's and my room. The
beds were only seven feet apart. I'm sure he got off on having me
there but I was not amused.


A: So what was the strange sexual experience?


M: I knew I had to make Tina understand how I felt. So I asked a
guy I had gone out with a number of times (but had never slept
with) to come over and screw me loud. You know how vocal I can
be.


A: Yes, you used to wake me up at night when you came. That was
through three closed doors.


M: Keep in mind that I can control myself pretty well up until
the fourth or fifth time I come, but I am usually keeping myself
from screaming the whole time. When Ed, my friend, and I had sex
in my dorm room, I didnt bother keeping anything in. I wish I had
taped it.


A: Me, too.


M: It must have sounded like two cougars mating. At one point, I
was on top, controlling the action, and screaming as I climaxed
and Ed, whom I always had thought of as shy, was yelling as I
tightened and felt him emptying into me. It was a side of me that
Ed had never really seen. But he really got into it. He wrote to
me for years afterward.


A: Did it work? Did the guy stop coming over?


M: Oh, yeah. The next day Tina came to me and said that it
wouldn't work to have sex in our rooms, that she would tell her
boyfriend no. And while he sometimes gave me dirty looks on
campus, he never showed up with a hard-on in our room again.


A: How about skinny dipping?


M: Of course. Many times. Scott and I used to do it every
opportunity we got, skinny dipping, that is.


A: The best time?


M: That would have to be the time we hiked the Opal Lake when I
was a junior, me and Scott and Susan (Michelle's best female
friend) and five of Scott's buddies. It was one of those
Midwestern days well over 95, with 150% humidity. When we all got
out of Scott's air-conditioned van, we were immediately drenched.
It was a good two and a half miles to the lake and by the time we
got close, we were all dripping, and not in fun.


When we got close to the lake, all five of Scott's friends ripped
off their clothes and ran in. There they were, in the lake and
looking back at us, waiting to see what we would do. Susan and I
looked at each other and we started to undress. I was only
wearing my sandals, my holey jeans, my backpack, and that leather
bikini top you got me at the craft show.


A: I remember it well. That investment paid off many times over.


M: I took off my top pretty quickly and then Scott stepped over
quickly and asked me not to take off all my clothes. I got
pissed, saying something like, 'Why not? Do you think I hiked all
the way out there not to swim?' He asked me again not to take off
everything. The guys in the lake took my side, of course. One--I
think it was Brady--said to Scott, Let the poor girl swim. See
how hot she is? And the other guys all laughed. Scott said to
him, 'Right. You're concerned for her.' And Brady said, 'We only want
to make sure she keeps cool.' Keep in mind that at this point
Susan was already naked, she was pretty good looking, but no one
was even noticing her.


A: Then what happened?


M: I ended the debate by dropping my shorts and heading for the
water. At that point, there was a fairly long silence and Brady
took a big breath, looked at my nipples and said, 'Looks like she's
cool now. Scott then warned the group about looking at me. I
remember laughing and saying something like, 'Right. Now let's see
which is stronger, your threats or my body.' And suddenly the
three guys who were standing in shallow water had to move into
the deeper water. One of them even said, 'Of course, we'll be
unable to come out of the water for some time. And I said,
'Nonsense. I love hard-ons.' Then I looked over at Scott, noticed
that he was looking at me and getting hard himself. And I said,
'So Scott, what are you going to do with that?' We played most of
the afternoon, all six guys with erections bobbing. It looked a 
little painful at times but no one directly
around me ever got soft. Every direction I looked, I saw
hard compliments.


A:  Anything else interesting happen?


M: Well, about 45 minutes in, Susan and I wanted to work on our
tans. We got our towels out of our backpacks and I lay down on my
stomach. Susan leaned over me and said, 'Should we give them a
show?' And I said, 'Absolutely.' She sloooowly applied sun tan
lotion to every inch of my back side, lingering on my ass. It was
very quiet in the water and I could hear Scott fuming. Then I did
the same for Susan, the guys watching me and my hands more than
her.


A: Then what?


M: We lay there and the guys got loud again, clearly focused on
farting around. After about thirty minutes, I flipped over on my
back and Susan put on the sun tan lotion even more slowly. She
took maybe five minutes on my breasts alone. I found having six
guys watching me was a huge turn-on. My nipples got as erect as
some of the guys cocks. And when she got to my crotch, she
carefully rubbed lotion onto all of it, even moving her finger
down my clitoris several times. I remember catching my breath and
arching my back a little. I noticed then that it had gotten very
quiet in the water. I then did the same for her and perhaps too
well. She was really getting into it. She actually thrust up into
my hand twice. I think that was the only moment when they were
looking harder at her than they were at me. I toyed with the idea
of bringing her but I didn't think that would be fair to Susan or
the guys, although at this point I was horny enough to have taken
on all six of them.


A: And how would Scott have taken that?


M: Scott wasn't real generous with me, which was sometimes
a drag. Scott and I got so worked up that day that when we
got back home, we stayed in my bedroom for a good twelve hours.


A:  Did you ever have a threesome with him?


M: No but once he asked me if I'd like to. That was pretty
adventurous for him.


A: So what happened?


M: I said, 'Sure, Id love to, if you were one of the guys.' For
some reason, he never asked me about a threesome again. Any other
sexy memories of me?


A: All my memories of you are sexy. From 14 on your sensual force
was a given. What also amazed me was your grace. I never saw you
make an awkward move in sex. Oh, I take that back. There was one
time.


M: When was that?


A: We were watching the Williams' house for them (they were family
friends, and we would occasionally watch their house when they
went on vacations). They had that gorgeous pool and for some
reason you and I were there alone. I remember you were in that
black and red tiger-striped bikini that was about two sizes too
small for you.


M: Yeah. I loved that bathing suit, although it pinched me a
little in tender spots.


A: You were in the Williams' pool, sitting in that floating chair
roughly ten feet away from me. The awkward move was that you had
your left leg up on the pool end and your right one on the chair.
It was so ungainly that I looked more closely.


M: What did you see?


A: I saw you come eight times in under five minutes.


M: Really?


A: Oh yeah. I first sensed that something was going on because of
your awkward position but I couldn't figure out what it was at
first. Judging by your facial expression, nothing was going on,
but other signs gave you away. Keep in mind that I knew the pools
water inlet was right where you were sitting. It became clear
that your left foot was holding you right there while the water
washed over your clitoris.


M: I'm not likely to forget. Some afternoons, I came fifteen
times and then waited ten minutes and did it again. I used to
love to do that at night. When I didn't have to wear a bathing
suit, I could caress my breasts at the same time, and I could
come as loudly as I wanted. Scott used to love watching me do
that. One night I was bringing myself over and over, yelling like
a banshee, and I felt something wet hit my shoulder. I looked
over at Scott. He was leaning back on his arms, looking at me,
and his hard cock was pointing right at my face. I realized he
had climaxed without touching himself.  That was pretty amazing
for both of us. So what let you know I was coming?


A:  Well, you were wearing shades and your eyes were closed but I
was close enough to see that those eyes were rolling back in your
head, a sure sign that you were really turned on. Your nipples
were trying to push off your bikini top, I remember, and you were
breathing more deeply that you normally did. And there was a red
flush from your upper lips to, I assume, your lower lips.


M: Yeah. That always happened. When I was 14 one guy on top of me
asked if I was having a heart attack. I said, 'Kind of.'


A: The real giveaway was the fact that you arched your foot each
time you came.


M: Yeah. I still do that.


A: There was some time between the first and second and third
arches but then your foot arched faster and faster. And then,
after the eighth foot arch, you moved your body so the water was
no longer hitting you in that perfect place. You were still
breathing heavily and I asked you, A penny for your thoughts. You
gave me a little smile and said, in an extremely satisfied voice,
'Yeah right.'


M: Is it getting warm in here?


A:  A little. Is there anything I can do?


M: Yeah. You can watch.


A: Excuse me?


M: No need for secrets between us now.


At that instant I realized how turned on both of us were. I had
had an erection for some time and I could see Michelle's hands
moving under the covers. I was unprepared for what happened next.
She brushed her bedclothes aside and I saw immediately that her
nightdress was up around her neck and she was wearing nothing
else. She made eye contact with me, kept it, and then moved both
hands down between her legs. I moved my chair closer to her,
putting my hand on her naked right thigh. Id never been this
close to her while she was having sex. With her left hand she
spread her lower lips apart and her clitoris was suddenly
standing there, moist and gleaming. Her right hand moved slowly
around her clitoris, her head snapped back, her eyes closed and
rolled back in her head, a sign I knew well. She started to touch
herself more forcefully. Once more the elemental communication
between voyeur and exhibitionist.


She was no longer 17, of course, but then neither was I 34. But
she was still tight and started to go through those stages of
excitement I knew only too well. I realized then that she would
always be twenty years younger than me and drank in her body.
Several times, as I watched, the fingers on her right hand would
stop circling and three of them would sink several times inside
her. As they sank, she brought her knees up, to push her fingers
further in, I thought. I would momentarily raise my hand and
then, as her legs would lower and she jutted her sex up to meet
her rubbing fingers again, I would return my hand. Several times
she would move her left hand up to roll the nipple on her right
breast. Her moves were graceful, long practiced, and totally
absorbing


It ended far too quickly--although my time sense was pretty shaky
at that point. She yelled in a way that was oh so familiar to me.
My hand down on her thigh felt her shudder once, twice, three
times. Her foot arched. She opened her eyes at me a little
blearily and said, I really needed that. Lets do this again
tomorrow. Had she been 17 and we had found ourselves in this
situation, I would never have been able to control myself. But I
had too much to lose to take advantage of her horniness, not that
she would have let me anyway. She gave me what she could and I
was very thankful for that. It was more than worth the
twenty-five year wait.


I continued interviewing Michelle for the entire next day. Then,
happily, she no longer needed the pain pills as she had already
completely shed her inhibitions with her nightshirt the day
before. It was astonishing to hear the exploits that a truly sexy
woman can have. I would make a suggestion or ask a question and
off wed go into another of Michelle's sexual adventures that to
her was no big deal. You'll have to decide that for yourself. What
you are reading is roughly 30% of those interviews with Michelle.
When I have some time, I will edit and post more of her
recollections.