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.