Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: Strange Relationships
Part: 50
Universe: Second Best
Summary: A full-length novel that follows several young couples from Second
Best and their families.
Keywords: MF interr oral anal Mf mast oral voy

Keywords for full story:  rom, mf, MF, mmf, MFF, M+F, mm, F-solo, ir, D/s,
bdsm, mdom, spank, oral, anal, 1st, reluc, nc, voy

Strange Relationships

Copyright © Thinking Horndog, 2006 im_a_thinker@yahoo.com

Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyrighted with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. Reproduction for profit
is forbidden.  Any distribution must include this note and the author's
email address. Don’t be caught attempting to make a buck off me!

Warnings and disclaimers:

This is adult entertainment!  Be warned!  If you’re not into graphic
depictions of sex, this is the wrong story for you!  If you’re too young to
be legally reading this, move along!

This is a work of fiction.  It is not intended to reflect any particular
person or persons, and the incidents portrayed exist in their current form
solely in the writer’s imagination.  You get the idea.


Chapter 50
Various Projects Below Stairs


	Felicia (a.k.a. the Wench) knocked on the door to Armand's suite,
"Master?"

	"Enter!" Sharon called out.

	Felicia entered and immediately knelt.  "You called?"

	"I did," Armand agreed.  He was fast-forwarding through some video
of Leticia giving Boris head.  "I haven't quite decided what use I have for
you as yet, but a continuation of Sharon's education is in order."  He
turned to face Felicia, "What did you think of the phone call to Bianca,
Wench?"

	"Master, if Mistress was trying to dissuade Bianca, she failed."

	"And if she wasn't?"

	"Umm, wild success?"

	Armand chuckled.  "What do YOU think of Bianca's little project?"

	The Wench blinked.  "I think she needs to get laid.  And I think
Pete is THE guy to do it!"

	"Apparently, it's unanimous -- with the possible exception of Pete,"
Armand observed dryly.  He turned to Sharon.  "What was that last bit
about?"

	"Phillippe?"  Sharon smiled.  "I thought maybe I'd give Bianca a
weapon."

	"OH!" the Wench giggled.

	Armand turned a quizzical glance on her.  "Explain."

	"Master, if Pete refuses, Bianca can just say something like, 'Okay,
I'll have Phillippe do it...', and Pete will have to cave..."

	"Ah."  Armand turned a burning gaze on Sharon.  "Subtle."

	"I kept Nora in line for a long time," Sharon replied.  "I speak
teen."

	"I see," Armand observed.  In fact, he saw quite a bit.  "Let's get
arranged.  Sharon, you're on me, but arrange yourself to facilitate a view.
Wench, service Sharon.  You need not see the video.  I think we're reached
the present."

                         --------------------

	They had.  In real time, down in the men's showers off the sunroom,
Leticia was snuffling and sucking, trying to service Boris properly through
the pain and urgency brought on by a good quart of oily water distending her
lower abdomen.  The cramps were awful, but worse was the fight her already
sore sphincter was waging to hold back the tide...

	"One more minute," Boris grunted.  "Charles said not less than ten.
I am to beat you if you fail to hold the water in, too!  You might as well
stop sucking -- you are terrible at it when distracted..."

	"I'm so sorry!" Leticia wailed as her mouth came off this thick
member.  She was, too!  God knew that she didn't want Boris telling Mr.
Wilson that she was bad at ANYTHING, but the pain and the urgency...

	"See if you can..." Lacking the word, Boris made a jacking motion.
Leticia waded in, one-handed, sliding Boris's foreskin back and forth on his
meaty shaft.
"Lick the tip," Boris directed.  "Da!"   This was better!  "Lips, only.  Do
not go deep!"  The skinny little negress kept forgetting herself and letting
her teeth get in the way.  This way, there were no accidents...

	Leticia applied herself in the new manner, jacking him and lipping
his glans, whirling her tongue around the tip under his foreskin.  It wasn't
as gamey as yesterday, probably due to the cleaning it got then.  Boris was
flinching and wriggling, rumbling, "Daaa... Daaa..."  Leticia figured she
would be drinking cum soon, at this rate.  Maybe that would spare her poor,
cramping ass...

	But Boris gathered himself and fended her off, yelling, "STOP!  We
let you empty, now!"  Imperiously, he pointed to the door.  "Other shower
room.  You will not stink up MINE!"  Leticia made to struggle up, but he
pushed her back down.  "Crawl.  Go!"  A swat on the ass scared her into
rapid, knee-scraping motion.

	Boris followed her right through the door; the fact that it was
marked 'Ladies' concerned him no more than the fact that the other was
marked 'Gents'.  Leticia crawled past the showers to the back where the
three stalls were situated.  "The big one," Boris ordered.  He followed her
in, waving for her to go ahead and seat herself.  "Okay, go!" he ordered.
"Suck some more.  Try not to make BIG smell..."

	More cramps, mixed with blessed relief as the water poured out of
her abused sphincter, carrying fecal matter with it.  It was rank, but Boris
didn't leave; he stood there cradling her head while she again worked his
erection.  This time, when she wasn't reaching back to flush, she had a hand
available to cradle his heavy balls, something he apparently enjoyed, by the
grunts he emitted.  Gratitude had her working hard, but Boris had no
intention of losing a load in her mouth; no, he had his sights set on her
ass, and if he could scrape together enough for a second pass, he'd batter
her pussy again!  The previous night's encounter had been the best Boris had
had in ages, and he was determined to repeat the performance!  In any case,
one or two more repetitions and the little black slut would be addicted,
anyway, and life would improve quite a bit around the dacha...

	That thought process nearly undid him; he backed off, suddenly,
roaring, "Nyet!  Not here!"  Leticia, thoroughly terrorized, let go.  "Awful
stink," he muttered, covering.  "Who will clean you up?"

	"I can use the bidet!" Leticia offered.

	"Bidet?"

	"That," Leticia amplified, pointing at a stall across the way.  "It
squirts water up..."

	"Good," Boris rumbled.  "What about rinse, inside?"

	Leticia swallowed, grimacing.  "I don't know..."

                         --------------------

	Armand surged up.  "Wench!  Get down there with a bulb syringe.  I
want to see you wandering around before they get settled!  Tell them Charles
sent you, having forgotten the thing.  Go!"

	"Master!"  The Wench ran out, wiping Sharon's juices off her face.
Sharon made no sound; the fact that she was inhibited by the situation had
made Felicia's work more difficult, but she HAD been making ground.  Now,
Sharon wanted to conserve the effort...

	Armand caught her hand shifting to her crotch.  "Keep the hands
where they were," he admonished.  "Next time, maybe you'll appreciate it
more, eh?"  Palming the back of her head, he grunted, "Go a little deeper.
Long-stroke it.  Give me tonsils on one end and lips on the other."  He
returned his attention to the screen.

                         --------------------

	   "How much longer?" Boris grumbled.  He didn't want to lose his
hard-on either way -- via inattention, or by ejaculation.

	"I'm close, I think," Leticia replied.  The cramps had backed off,
and she was starting to feel emptied.  Of course, her ass hurt -- it was
unused to such treatment.  Oh, similar had happened before, with Mr. Wilson
-- and she hadn't done as well, frankly.  She'd made an ungodly mess and had
to clean it up...  But that was just an episode, not a series.

	Boris grimaced, stepped forward, and made jacking motions.  "Easy.
You do not drink from Boris tonight.  You just keep him... entertained."
Hard was the wrong word to use here -- it might give the little slut the
wrong idea.

	"Yes, Sir."  Leticia put her hands back to work.  "Do you want me to
lick?"

	Boris thought about it, nodded.  "Da.  Remember!"  He shook a
warning finger.

	Leticia nodded and went back to work.  In a minute or two, she
decided that her stay on the toilet had reached the point of diminishing
returns, so she looked up at Boris, "I should move over there."

	"Good!" he grunted, shambling back.  He was MORE than ready to move
on...

	Leticia wiped carefully and got up, sidling around toward the bidet.
She felt... messy.  "You don't want to see, I think."  Boris waved a hand in
agreement.  Leticia circled around and busied herself trying to set the
water temperature on the bidet.  Boris watched, shaking his head.  Just as
she settled over the bowl, a soft voice began calling, "Bo-ris!  Oh, Bo-
ris!"

	"Huh?"  Boris shambled to the door.

	It was the Wench, holding a bulb syringe.  "Charles sent me.  He
said you might need this for rinsing Leticia out..."

	Boris nodded, accepting the bulb and turning it in his hands.  "Da.
Thank him for me."

	The Wench smiled, nodded, and got out of there.  Boris returned to
the changing room, holding the bulb.  "This for inside."

	Leticia puffed out a sigh.  Obviously, she was NOT going to get a
break!  "Okay."

	"How?"

	"A couple of quick in an outs, I think," Leticia suggested.  "I can
do it here, since most of the mess is gone."

	"Okay," Boris waved for her to continue.  "I am bored.  We are done
soon, no?"

	"Yes.  Just a few more minutes."  Warm water made her tortured ass
feel better, but now she had to use the damned bulb...  Ah, well... She
flushed, sucked water out of the bowl, inserted the bulb gingerly in her
cringing rectum and squeezed.  Making no attempt to retain anything, she
evacuated the small amount of water and the minor mess it carried with it
and repeated the entire process.  On pass three, things looked pretty good,
so she spent a short time in the flow of the water and rose.  "I think
that's it."

	"Turn around," Boris grunted.  "Bend over."  He took a good look,
then ran his hands over her ass for good measure.  "Wet."

	Leticia shrugged.  "No towel."

	"Get one.  We go to sauna now."

	Christ!  He was going to do her ass in a sauna?  What an evening!
Sweating like a pig while he shoved a baseball bat up her sore ass!  God,
she wished she'd never opened her big, fat mouth!

	But it didn't happen that way.  Boris settled himself on the sauna
seat and rumbled, "Come!  Give me titties.  We sweat a little before we go
to baths."  She straddled him, feeling his thick cock rise and fall at her
crotch while he fondled, nibbled, and suckled at her erect nipples.  "These
too small," he rumbled.  "I will talk to Boss about making you milk cow so
you get decent sized titties.  How you attract a man with these things?"
Oddly, it didn't stop him from working them over...

	After ten minutes, he leaned up and whiffed her armpit, surprising
her.  "You smell... like negress," he grunted.

	Slapping her might have been kinder.  Tears sprang to her eyes, and
she started to blubber.  "What?" he asked, confused.

	"I... can't help it..."

	"No."  Boris shrugged.  "Is what you are.  I am Georgian, you are
negress.  These are facts.  You live with them, no?"  His eyes narrowed.
"You want white?"

	"What?  Yes.  No.  Maybe.  What do you mean?"

	"You want to BE white?  Or you want white man?"

	"I can't BE white.  But..."

	"So.  Little brown babies thing is for real with you?"

	"Well, yes."

	"Hah."  Boris waved his arm.  "Too hot in here for serious
conversation.  Go to shower, quick in and out -- wash off sweat.  Meet me at
baths."  He swatted her on the ass.  "Go!"

	Boris did as he directed, and was in and out of the shower in no
time.  Leticia, however, stopped to soap her armpits, her twat, and,
gingerly, her ass.  Boris stuck his head in the shower room and roared,
"Soap later!  Get wet, come out!  NOW!"  Leticia hustled her ass to the hot
tubs and helped him remove the cover from one.  Before stepping in, he came
around, grabbed her and smelled her armpits again.  "Is not white.  Is soap,
or is maybe nothing.  You are nothing?"

	"N-no."

	"Have some pride."  He got into the tub, and waved her to follow.
She settled opposite him, but he shook his head, pointing to a spot by his
side, under his burly arm.  "Here."  Leticia shifted around and settled in
next to him.  "Okay, now we can talk serious, nyet?  Warm water feels good
on tushy?"

	"Uh huh."  The warm current was a balm on Leticia's abused ass.

	"Okay, so, what does skinny, flat-chested negress have to offer
white mans?"

	"Negress?"

	"Is what you are, is it not?" Boris murmured.

	"We call it black."

	"Huh.  Okay.  So, answer question."

	"The same things skinny, flat-chested white women, do, I guess."

	Boris grunted.  "Why bother?  Skinny, flat-chested white women not
in demand, either.  White men like titties."  Boris was off to the races.
"Black womans do not have a lot to offer.  Either they are giant big, like
Velma, or they are skinny and flat-chested, like you.  White mans want woman
with nice titties, orange, grapefruit, maybe cantaloupe.  Giant big black
womans have pumpkins or watermelons -- too big, like big balloon in parades.
Even fat white womans usually don't blow up like parade balloon -- have
grapefruits, or cantaloupes.  White mans prefer that.  Black mans prefer
that."  He eyed Leticia.  "You are on other end.  Skinny, flat-chested.
Plenty of skinny, flat-chested white women -- mostly nervous types.  Plenty
skinny, flat-chested chinks."  He scratched his head a moment.  "How you say
-- Orientals.  They smaller, too.  What makes you different?"  He pursed his
lips in thought.  "Besides, I forgot problem with all black womans."

	"What's that?"

	"Bad temper."  Boris grinned while Leticia worked through being
furious.

	"So, I have no drawing cards?  I was a model!" Leticia insisted.

	"Not for white mans.  No titties."  Leticia felt his hand on her
thigh under the water.  "Spread legs.  I want to play with cat."

	"Pussy," Leticia corrected.

	"Right.  Pussy."  A meaty hand dragged her leg atop his.  "You can
play, too."

	Leticia reached into his lap, knowing that it was an order.
Meanwhile, a thick finger began sliding between her nether lips.  "Okay, so
what am I supposed to do?  Get breast implants?"

	Boris made a face.  "Bah.  When they find out the titties are fake,
you are worse off!  Grow titties naturally -- have children!  Breast feed!"

	"You're kidding, right?"

	"Nyet.  Be wet nurse, milk cow.  Titties swell up, you attract
mans."  Boris was apparently deadly serious.

	"That brings me back to the starting point, though!" Leticia pointed
out.  "I have to have a man before I can get pregnant!"

	"Da."  Boris nodded.  "Is problem.  What else do you have to attract
white mans, then?  Hmmmm."  He eyed her up and down.  "Big, soft lips -- you
give good blowjobs.  Maybe you start using cat -- pussy -- more often..."
The thick finger had found her clit, and was riding it.  "You are on pills,
yes?"

	"Yes."

	"You will not have babies that way."

	"I won't anyway, at this rate..."

	Boris shrugged.  "You had sex with white man last night.  You will
again, tonight.  That is not too bad..."  He eyed her.  "Maybe I will breed
you, if you ask nice."  He pretended to look at the manicure of his free
hand.  "Otherwise, I just fuck you.  You know that this will not be the last
time you come to Boris..."  This last was accompanied by a sidelong glance
that begged a reaction.

	He got it.  "I'm here because Mr. Wilson told me to be!" Leticia
asserted.

	"Da," Boris agreed.  "That is only reason?"

	"Of course!"  But the assertion lacked force.  Leticia didn't
believe it; Boris didn't either.

	"We shall see," Boris rumbled.  "Play more."  Leticia resumed
jacking his thick cock.  In return, Boris's thick finger continued to bore
its way into her vagina.  Boris's heavy thumb settled on her clit, and
Leticia found her arousal level rising, which led to more serious efforts on
his cock.

	In a few minutes, though, the timer went off and the jets stopped.
"Okay, we are finished.  Time for REAL shower," Boris announced, leading
Leticia out of the tub.  They replaced the cover, then Boris took her hand
and led her back to the men's changing room.  "We will both shower here."

	Once the water was running and adjusted properly, Boris handed her
the soap.  "Wash me."  Boris shampooed his thinning hair while Leticia
handled everything else.  Boris allowed her to avoid nothing, insisting that
she wash his cock, his ass, his heavy balls.  When he was rinsed to his
satisfaction, he stepped away, "Now I watch YOU!"  He did, too, even
critiquing her efforts.  "You will be clean, at least, to start..." he
rumbled.  When she was finished, he pointed back the way they had come.  "We
go now."

	"My bikini?" Leticia asked.

	"Is dirty," Boris replied.  "Use towel, like I do.  Show little
titties."  Boris had a towel around his ample middle.  The injunction to
display her upper body stopped an attempt at a more traditional wrap in its
tracks.  Well, she'd been topless a lot already today -- a little more
wouldn't hurt her.  She draped the towel at her waist and preceded Boris
back through the halls to his rooms.

                         --------------------

	"Funny, at times, but this is apparently going to go slowly," Armand
commented on activities in the sunroom.  "Perhaps we should check on Bianca?
Wench, get up here and take over; Sharon's mouth is getting tired."  Armand
started looking for Bianca, starting in the bachelor quarters.

                         --------------------

	"Pete!"  Bianca rapped on Pete's door.

	"What the--" Pete, watching a ball game in sweats, hopped up from
his couch and went to the door.  "Who's there?"

	"It's Bianca, Pete.  Open up."

	"I don't know if that's a good idea..."

	"You don't want a bunch of people seeing me here, do you?  They'll
get ideas..."

	"All right."  Pete opened the door, looked both ways, and waved
Bianca in.  "Why are you here?"

	"I... heard that you were upset," Bianca replied carefully.

	Pete waved her into a chair, then carefully settled himself on the
couch with the coffee table interposed between them.  "Well, I don't know if
I'd go that far.  But I've cooled down a bit."

  	"What does THAT mean?"

	"It means, I'm thinking, instead of feeling.  Bianca, I should never
have gone as far as I have with you!  Guys who seduce fourteen-year-old
girls are child molesters!  I'm... not into that..."

	"Seduce?  You seduced me?  Ummm, Pete..."

	"Okay, so, maybe you were doing most of the seducing.  But other
people won't see it that way," Pete insisted.  "Other people will make
assumptions..."  He smiled.  "Besides, you weren't doing those things with
someone else.  I have to assume I had SOME hand in it..."

	Bianca dimpled.  "Well, okay.  But still, you worry about other
people.  Other people KNOW!  And they don't care!"

	"Your mother cares -- and she doesn't think it's a good idea!"

	"Mama was living in some old-country fantasy!  Jason gave her a good
talking to!" Bianca insisted.

	Pete grimaced.  "At least!"  He shook his head.  "Miz Wilson was
down here to give ME a talking to!"

	"I spoke to her," Bianca said.  "She made it clear that if I wanted
it, no one would stand in the way.  In fact, she told me that I'd better be
sure, because if I chickened out at the last minute, no one was going to
come running to my rescue!"

	"That's some deal!" Pete rolled his eyes.

	"Well, she was making a point," Bianca replied.  "She said that my
fight with Mama was childish -- but that she had decided that my approach to
sex was very adult."

	"But you're NOT an adult!  You're fourteen!" Pete insisted.

	"That's a number, Pete!" Bianca insisted.  "Before you knew it, it
didn't matter!  Look at me!  Do I look like a child?"

	"Well, no..."

	"What DO I look like?  And don't lie -- I know too much!"

	"Okay."  Pete searched for terms.  "You look like some kind of
fertility goddess.  You look like you should be having sex this week, and
babies next week.  A lot of guys would just take one look and howl..."

	Bianca smiled ruefully.  "In the old country, that's probably what
would be happening!  Pete, girls my age DO have sex where I come from -- and
children, too!  And many times, they don't get to pick who they do it with.
Here, I have choices..."

	"Well, I don't.  It's against the law."

	"The law is there to protect girls from child molesters, not to keep
them from having sex with someone they WANT to have sex with!"

	Pete sighed.  "Actually, the law doesn't discriminate.  You're right
about why it's there, but the assumption is that below a certain age, young
girls are not competent to make such choices.  And that means the adult is
considered guilty of taking advantage of her, no matter what!"

	Bianca's face twisted.  "That's ridiculous!  I could have sex with a
boy my own age..."

	Pete sighed.  "Yes, you could -- and probably, he would escape any
trouble that might come of it because HE, too, is considered to be too young
to make the proper choices."

	"But that's insane!"  Bianca hopped up and stamped her foot.

	"I agree.  From what you tell me, several others in this household
agree, too.  But it's the law."

	"B-but..."  Bianca's face fell, and tears began to well up.

	Pete stood and moved to comfort her.  That was his first mistake.
"Shhhh.  It's all right.  There's no mad rush..."

	Bianca collapsed against him, tucking her head into his shoulder --
but that brought her breasts against him, and her crotch against his
thigh...  The embrace was fierce; she shook with her sobs, but got out, "You
don't understand!  I--I feel the way you say I look!  I can't go waiting
four or five years!  I'm ready NOW!"

	Pete had no answer for that; all he could do was to cuddle her and
rub her back -- which was probably his second mistake.

	For several minutes, there were just the sobs -- but slowly, they
subsided, and Bianca began to move against Pete, reacting to his caresses.
Pete, lulled by the mechanics of the effort and the fact that they appeared
to be calming her, missed the point.  He also initially missed the subtle
shifts in position that got her crotch wrapped around his right thigh --
until it started to get seriously warm!  Even then, his brain was running
behind when the alert went off in his OTHER head, which called his erection
to action, straining against his sweatpants!

	The sudden realization that things were too good dawned, but Bianca
wasn't letting go of Pete; if anything, she clutched him tighter.  Somehow,
she neatly scotched his efforts to keep his cock out of contact with her
left hip, too!  Raising her face from his shoulder, her look disheveled but
sultry, she murmured, "How long must I wait?"

	The little minx opened up a drop shot for Pete's eyeballs with the
move, too, right down between a pair of plush brown orbs with a hint of a
flush on their upper surfaces.  Moving his eyes up to her smoky ones didn't
help, either.  "How long until you're fifteen?" he croaked.

	"Two months.  Less."

	"Uhhh..."  When did math get so hard?  "Fourteen months?"

	"Pete, mi amour," Bianca breathed, her face serious as she rubbed
his cheek, "that would kill us both!  Be reasonable!"

	"I'm trying!" Pete croaked.

	"No, you are being gallant, but foolish.  I--you know I cannot wait
that long!"  Somehow, she managed to crush her heated crotch against his
thinly covered erection.  "Others -- ones who care less for propriety --
those will make offers.  I am weak; watching Felicia enjoy you all, watching
Mama carry on with Mister Jason, the other things that go on in this
house...  One of them -- Phillippe, perhaps -- will catch me in a weak
moment, and I will succumb.  But I will be wanting you..."

	Phillippe?  If anyone was certain to make a complete botch of things
for his own gratification...  "You would sleep with Phillippe?"

	"Not willingly!  But if you persist in this silliness, I could fall
prey to him!  Can you not see that this silly legal thing will bring evil
upon us?  The thought of opening my body to another while dreaming of
you..." Bianca shuddered.  "I am... vulnerable.  You sense it.  Do you not
realize that others do, too?  Phillippe is only one of several dangers..."

	"Uuhhh..."  She had him on the ropes, his fevered imagination
drawing pictures of her body spread beneath Phillippe, while he pounded
away, uncaring -- or worse, Jason, who practically owned her mother, or Mr.
Wilson, who tastes were arcane, to say the least...

	"Please!" she pled, "Put aside your worries over silly laws, and do
what you KNOW is right!  Please!"

	"I-I'll think about it."

	"Oh, thank God!"  Bianca began to weep again, this time in joy --
and Pete was lost...  Raining kisses on his neck added a physical component
that reinforced the 'decision'.

	Pete's hormones were going nuts, but he WAS a good decade older than
Bianca, and he DID have SOME control...  "Let's sit down," he croaked.

	But Bianca had the initiative, and she draped herself over him,
rolling him onto his back.

                         --------------------

	"Determined little thing, isn't she?" Armand remarked.

	"Uh huh," The Wench mumbled around her current task.

	"Not you!"  Armand delivered a swat to the Wench's ass.  "Pay
attention to what you're doing!"

	Sharon giggled.  "Well, it sure looks like it, but who knows whether
she'll get him there tonight?"

	"Perhaps not," Armand grunted.  "Back to Boris.  Wench!  Keep those
lips tight, or I'll go for the throat!"  He swapped over to Boris's
quarters.

                         --------------------

	Leticia was kneeling before Boris in his quarters, swallowing his
erection.  "Da!" he grunted.  "Make Boris hard!  The next act will be easier
if I am hard..."  In a moment, he gruffly offered, "You can play..."

	Leticia, however, was using both hands already, and had none left
over for herself.  One hand balanced her against his heavy hip while the
other massaged his sizeable balls.  Her mouth was more than busy, suctioning
his thick erection.  Boris encouraged her efforts with a hand on the back of
her head, buried in her springy comb-out.  It was difficult for her not to
fight his increasingly intense pressure on the in-stroke as his excitement
increased; fortunately, he lacked the length required for a serious run at
her throat...

	"Okay!" he grunted, "Up on couch!  Point tushy at Boris -- we
begin!"

	Leticia did as she was told, cringing at the thought of the act in
the offing -- but she had no choice, so she might as well take advantage of
all that preparation...

	Boris had one last bit of preparation to carry out, however;
Leticia's first inkling came when a warm wetness dribbled along her ass
crack.  "Boris remembered oil," he announced, matter-of-factly.  "This way
maybe not break things."  In a moment, a stubby finger violated her anus --
but at least it wasn't the torture it could have been.  "Open up, little
slut," Boris warned.  "You will be getting much more than finger!"

	"Yes, Boris!"  Leticia overrode instinct, pushing to open herself
up.  Boris dribbled a bit more oil from the bottle over his fingers and the
going got easier; in a moment, he had two fingers inside her already
tortured ass.  The plug had NOT been pleasant, and she was pretty irritated,
inside -- but then, this was a punishment, wasn't it?  Leticia gritted her
teeth and set herself to accept Boris's invasion.

                         --------------------

	The Wench was getting the same attention from Armand -- without the
benefit of oil!  "Come over here and give your sister a little spit," Armand
directed Sharon.

	'My sister, huh?' Sharon thought, but she kept it to herself as she
attempted to work up a little lubrication for poor Wench.  Fortunately, the
Wench was trained to this activity, and was tolerating it better than the
black woman on screen, despite the lack of lubrication; besides, there was
that extra element of masochism in the Wench's make-up...

                         --------------------

	On-screen, Boris was obviously trying to decide whether an attempt
to insert three fingers in Leticia's rectum was worth the trouble; after a
couple of attempts, he desisted, instead preparing his thick cock for the
main event.  "Okay, now, do not fight..."

	"Uuuuuuhhhhh!!!"  Leticia grunted into the couch pillows as the
blunt head of Boris's cock replaced his fingers.  The thing was like a
baseball bat going in, stretching her beyond her limits; the only thing that
kept the exercise going was his foreskin and the lubricating layer of oil
that he'd applied to it.  Leticia wanted to scream, but it felt like he was
pushing the air out of her lungs; instead, she chewed the corner of the
couch pillow and moaned as he slowly forced his girth into her protesting
colon.  It burned, and felt like she was being shredded -- but then the plug
had, too, earlier in the day, and she'd survived that; in fact, there had
been very little blood, despite the incredible raw soreness the thing had
inflicted on her.

	Boris took his time; the skinny negress had quite a bit to do to
take him, and there was no rush.  If she stayed anywhere near this tight, he
wouldn't last long, anyway...  Watching his cock disappear into her narrow
ass was very exciting!  "Da!  Is tight!  Take it, little slut!  Take Boris
to hilt!"

                         --------------------

	The Wench, on the other hand, emitted a high whine as Armand
inserted himself in HER ass; Armand wasn't taking near the care Boris was,
for one thing, and the amount of lubrication available was minimalist, for
another.  Much greater experience allowed the Wench to do her job, however,
and as for the noise, Armand liked it that way, anyway.  Sharon sat off-
side, watching, glad that poor Felicia was taking the heat...

                         --------------------

	Once seated against the thin padding of Leticia's ass-cheeks, Boris
began sawing back and forth in short strokes, looking for some freedom of
movement.  Leticia gripped the couch arm tightly, working to minimize the
agony caused by any movements she might make -- Boris was bad enough without
adding to things!  Her ass would never be the same -- that much was certain!
Taking Boris up there was like taking a pipe, or a telephone pole -- no mere
woman was made for this!  She did, however, recognize that things could be
worse; Boris had a sizeable foreskin, and it was taking most of the friction
of his movements.  Had he been without, the friction of his motion would
have been a LOT worse!

	"Unk, unk, unk," Boris grunted, pistoning in and out.  The little
slut was tight, very tight!  Even though he was fully in and moving, her
tight ass had given very little ground, and it was providing him with
intense sensations as he sawed back and forth.  In very little time, Boris
felt his heavy balls begin to draw up to deliver their load, and the
pleasure boost that presaged his orgasm arrived -- but he controlled the
berserkergang that provided the final peak of his ecstasy, knowing that
Leticia would likely be ruined by it.  Still, Leticia knew his power as he
reached his peak, shooting globs of jism into her colon -- he pounded her
hard during those last few strokes.  But it wasn't the full release of the
night before, and Boris recovered fairly rapidly, collecting a towel and
wiping the oil from his hands.  "Come, little one, clean my cock," he
ordered.

	Leticia turned, dazed by the pain, and collected the towel -- but
that wasn't what Boris intended for her.  "Nyet, nyet!" he roared, snatching
back the towel, "with your mouth!"

	"Ugggh," Leticia gurgled, and her stomach heaved -- but Boris gave
her no time to resist, burying his hand in her hair and dragging her
forward.  Leticia failed to get her mouth closed in time, and got it impaled
-- but surprisingly, the primary flavor she encountered was semen; the
thorough cleaning she'd gotten before her bout of anal sex made the whole
thing a lot less repugnant than anticipated.  Gratefully, she licked and
sucked, only picking up an occasional taint of the awful taste she expected
to find.

	Once it was apparent that she was going to do as she was told, Boris
released her and let her work.  Leticia had no fight left in her, anyway;
the interlude had been horrible!  There had been no pleasure at all in it
for her; her ass burned and stung, and was undoubtedly ripped and bleeding
-- and she wasn't certain that it was ever going to close properly again!
There was no way she was EVER going to do ANYTHING that would incur such
torture again -- so it was with some horror that she received Boris's next
comment, "Hmph.  Maybe we do that again, sometime..."  She froze, her eyes
popping in horror; fortunately, her mouth was full, so she couldn't give
more that a moan of shock!  Boris, who had been deadly serious, caught her
reaction and burst into laughter.  "Ho, ho ho!  Little slut no like, eh?
Maybe Boris should only fill your other holes, yes?"

	A response appeared to be required, so Leticia backed off his cock
and furtively replied, "Please?"

	Boris rumbled another chuckle while dragging her head back into
place.  "Boris will think about it.  You have tight tushie, though; maybe
Boris save it for enjoyable punishments..."

	Again, Leticia vowed NOT to do anything deserving of serious
punishment!  Boris might think her ass was tight, but right now it felt like
it was hanging wide open, and a nasty mess could fall out on the floor, any
minute!  Fortunately, there was nothing up there...

                         --------------------

	In the master suite, the Wench was nowhere near as lucky as Leticia;
Armand was used to taking women anally, and used to enjoying the pain he
inflicted while doing it.  He was nowhere near as quick to orgasm as Boris,
therefore, and the Wench continued to be brutally ridden all through the
cleanup in Boris's quarters.   Armand kept her tight and cringing by the
simple expedient of swatting her on the ass with a ping-pong paddle that he
kept handy in the night table drawer (one never knew when a partner/victim
might need an additional incentive...).  Finally, after some short stabs
that worked the Wench's cringing sphincter over the sensitive area at the
base of his glans, Armand socketed himself and erupted, grunting quietly.
The Wench gratefully made shift to milk him with what was left of her anal
muscular control after ten minutes of abuse.  This was the pinnacle of her
purpose in life, directly servicing her Master -- and, painful as it was,
she gloried in it.  In fact, she even managed some pleasure from the act,
although in this instance an orgasm would have required more stimulation.

	The Wench knew what was next, too -- one look at what Boris had
required of Leticia told her that events here in the master suite would
continue to mirror those in Boris's rooms.  The Wench, however, had not been
as carefully prepared as Leticia; she wasn't going to be as lucky in the
cleanup phase, either.  Nonetheless, when Armand backed off, she spun and,
without coaxing, took Armand's shit-stained cock into her mouth.  It was
repugnant, but whatever Master wants, Master gets...  She allowed her
expression to reflect her response to the taste deliberately, knowing it
would add to Master's enjoyment to know that she wasn't enjoying her work;
she could have maintained a bland expression, but she'd become aware at some
point that Master preferred to see the effects of the suffering he imposed
-- martyrdom annoyed him.  Therefore, she grimaced and allowed her distaste
and discomfort to show -- and was rewarded by a look of amusement from
Armand.

	Sharon had been around the block, too.  An exclamation from her
would have seen her on her knees, taking over from the Wench -- so she
deliberately maintained a poker face while watching the slave perform her
onerous task despite her inner disgust.  Armand was predictable, that way...

	"Time to swap back, I think," Armand announced.  The big show was
apparently over, anyway...

                         --------------------

	Bianca had lost no time consolidating her gains on Pete; wriggling
atop him on the couch, she managed to bring her breasts to bear -- despite
the fact that they were still in her brassiere -- and Pete seemed unable to
avoid having his erection rubbed by her smoking crotch.  The pair had moved
rapidly from early kissing to advanced French kissing and were verging on a
requirement for a fire extinguisher when Pete muscled himself out from under
Bianca, nearly crashing to the floor before gaining his feet, "Whoa!  We're
not killing rats, here!  If you want things done right, doing them in a mad
rush is not the way!"

	Bianca sat up.  "B-but..."

	"Shh," Pete admonished, his hands on her shoulders.  "You've
convinced me.  But trust me, we can go a little easier, and it will be a lot
better, okay?"

	"Okay."

	"I need to collect a couple of things, anyway.  You sit tight,
unless you want to come with me in there..."  He pointed to his bedroom.

	"I--  Can I?"

	"Well, yes, but I wasn't planning on entertaining.  Give me a sec,
will you?"

	"Okay."  Bianca began immediately to fidget.

	"Want a soda?  There are some in the fridge.  Help yourself -- I
won't be long..."  Pete disappeared into his room.

	Bianca, given an option, wandered over to the refrigerator.  Pete
apparently preferred Coke over Pepsi, but you couldn't have everything...
Bianca sipped from the can and examined her next move.  Was she being a
fool?  Pete seemed to have given in, but was this the wise thing?  Was he
going to put her off?  Did she really, REALLY want this?  She closed her
eyes, and the memory of Pete's cock pistoning in and out of the Wench's
vagina replayed before her eyes; yes, she wanted it.  How could she ensure
that things continued moving forward?  She eyed her reflection in the glass
covering a picture hanging on the wall; short skirt, sandals, sleeveless
blouse displaying her considerable cleavage...  Of course!  She went to
work, unbuttoning two buttons on the blouse and working through it to
extract the bra beneath -- that would be better, all around!  A second
thought had her kicking her way out of her sandals; barefoot, she should
seem more vulnerable...

	Meanwhile, Pete straightened the bedclothes on his bed without
making it and kicked dirty clothing into the closet.  Should he change
clothes?  Bianca was already working him through his sweat suit; probably,
that would be easier to deal with, all around.  Rubbers?  He had some,
somewhere around here -- and planning to go hunting for them at the last
minute was a sure recipe for riding Bianca bareback -- and probably
fulfilling the fertility goddess fantasy, which WOULD get him jailed!

	Bathroom.  Yeah, that's where they were.  Pete moved into the bath
and dug in the cabinet, finding three rubbers (more than enough!) and
checking the toilet seat for drips -- no time for anything TOO thorough, but
she'd need it, afterward, and there was no need to give her the idea that he
lived nasty...  not that he had any REAL expectation of a repeat
performance!

	In fact, what COULD he expect?  If things went more or less
according to plan, he was going to deflower a virgin -- fine.  She was
pretty young, but she was also better upholstered than some of Pete's
regular girlfriends -- which certainly helped his efforts at self-
justification!  If Bianca had been some tiny, flat-chested slip of a girl,
there would be the nagging worry that he might develop a taste for young
stuff -- but Bianca's insistence that she was a woman despite her age had a
lot of visual justification.

	Pete had the hots for her -- that was inarguable.  But would that
extend past the first time he had sex with her?  What about Bianca?  Was
this the point of the exercise?  One shot, a good experience, a broken
hymen, and she moved on to other boys -- or other men?  Viewed objectively,
they had NO long-term future -- was it smart for either of them to pretend
that they did?

	Pete suddenly realized that his woolgathering was slowing him down.
What else should he be looking for?  Ah.  Lube.  Hmmmmm.   Not good.  He
didn't have any -- or at least, nothing specific to the act that would be
effectively sterile...  Well, he'd baby her, and if he could, he'd put it
off a day so he could get something.  Heck, Mr. W. probably had a case of
the stuff around, somewhere...  Straightening his clothing, he popped open
the door and stepped through.

	Bianca was sitting on the couch again, sipping soda from a can.
There were changes, though...  The blouse hung a bit different -- oh, yeah,
that was it -- Pete could see a scrap of white cloth tucked behind a seat
cushion.  Bianca had pulled off her brassiere!  Pete grinned in spite of
himself; she was certainly in a hurry!  "Okay, so, you want to hang out in
my room for a while?"

	"Sure."  Bianca blushed like crazy, but she padded off toward his
room.  'Where have her shoes gone?' he wondered -- but there they were, by
the couch.  He gave the room a last visual sweep; the TV had been shut off
long since -- there was something tacky about molesting a fourteen year old
to the roar of the crowd -- and everything else looked like it would survive
the night.  He followed Bianca into his bedroom.

	Once there, Bianca ran out of steam.  What was she supposed to do
now?  Should she...  Her hands went to her blouse buttons, and the thought
flickered through her head that the brassiere thing had been a waste if she
was going to undress right away, anyway...

	"No," Pete murmured.  "I refuse to get cold-natured about this.
We'll get that far tonight, or we won't, but this isn't surgery, or
anything, and this isn't a doctor's office.  Sit, let me find something on
TV or some music, and let's talk a bit."
	"Where?"  Bianca looked around for a place besides the obvious one.

	"On the bed.  Prop some pillows against the headboard, if you like."
Pete turned to his bedroom TV.  What was appropriate?  Romance?  Soft porn?
The on-screen guide said network was all crime dramas and 'reality' shows,
but there were a couple of classic movies on the secondary networks.  Movie
channels...  There was a pretty racy series on that one in fifteen minutes
or so...  Pete set the dial and turned it down to a murmur.

	In the meantime, Bianca had arranged herself on the bed and was
recovering her drink from the nightstand.  "Comfy?" he asked.

	"I guess," she replied.  Nervousness was masking any physical
issues.  Now what?

	Pete settled on the edge of the bed beside her and turned to face
her -- awkward, but they needed face-to-face.  "So what are we doing?"

	"I don't know," came the toneless reply.  Things had gotten a little
cold-natured in the past couple of minutes, and her determination was
fading.

	"Is this a one-time thing?"

	"I don't know," Bianca got out.  "It wasn't supposed to be.  I
think...  I think we're over-thinking it."

	"Oh?"

	"When you take a girl out on a date, do you make marriage plans?"

	"No.  We don't agree to have sex at the outset, either, now that I
think about it," Pete grinned.

	"Uh huh.  Well, maybe you do plan on it, but you don't tell each
other, right?"

	"Right," Pete agreed.

	"Okay," Bianca stumbled along, "We have a -- a thing.  It could turn
into something big, or it could go away tonight.  Everybody's been busy
telling us how stupid it all is, but the... thing is still there, between
us.  I want to... just let the... thing... happen..."

	"Now THAT makes sense to me!" Pete exclaimed.  "And it explains why
I'm trying to slow things down!  We want the 'thing' to develop naturally,
not push it...  Otherwise, we get something else."

	"Okay, but..."

	Pet shushed her.  "I have agreed to go ahead, okay?  Wherever we're
going."

	"Okay."  Bianca settled back, then patted the bed next to her.
"Here?"

	"Huh?"

	"I think this is the next place you're going."  She smiled
tentatively.

	Pete faked a sober analysis, then grinned.  "I think you're right."
He crawled up next to her and settled himself with an arm around her
shoulders.

	Bianca put her head on his shoulder for a moment, relaxing against
him, then looked up, "Pete?"

	"Hmmmm?"

	"Don't feel like you have to... goof around, trying to figure out
what I want.  I really want to be... touched."

	"You'll tell me, if..."

	"Yes."

	Pete took her at her word, caressing her cheek with his right hand
while undoing the buttons of her blouse with his left.  Reaching in, he
cradled her right breast; the "Mmmmmm..." she uttered answered any questions
on his mind about whether he had gone too far or not.

	For Bianca, this was the stuff of her daydreams!  Pete's practiced
fingers found the brown bud of her nipple, and she gasped quietly as it
thickened and extended while the areole surrounding it crinkled.  Pete, ever
attentive, stopped at the sound, but she reached up to cover his hand.  "You
okay?" he asked.

	"Uh huh," she managed, her attention distracted by the wash of
wetness that the sensations kicked off in her vagina.

	"Okay."  He put the hand back in gear.

	Pete's choice in TV viewing was perfect; some show featuring women
making brave talk about their sexual adventures, spiced with the occasional
bit of nudity or uninhibited activity.  Bianca absorbed this bit or that,
but her main attention was on feeling Pete's hands drift here and there.
When he offered his lips again, she was more than ready; this time, they
took it slow, not attempting to devour each other -- and Bianca had to admit
that it was better.

	Fifteen minutes in, Bianca's breasts were thoroughly conquered
territory; she would arch her back when his hands left them momentarily for
other targets.  The blouse was there, but it merely acted as a frame; both
of them were wondering just how they were going to defeat the next obstacle
-- her skirt.  Pete decided to take the traditional route -- up her leg --
and Bianca facilitated this by pulling her right left up and turning a bit
toward him, which opened up access to her inner thigh pretty naturally.  She
wanted his hands on her cunny in the worst way; it was hot and wet and itchy
and just begging for a touch!  As his hand slowly took possession of more
and more of her inner thigh, her breathing spiraled up to a pant.  Finally,
his fingers drifted across the soaked crotch of her panties, and she moaned
in mixed excitement over the accomplishment and anticipation of more to
come.  Pete's finger scratched at her nether lips through the soaked fabric
and she clutched herself against him, urgency transmitted clearly by her
tension.  Orgasm hovered close...  Pete's finger began working to defeat the
leg band of her panties, and Bianca's grip tightened.   He paused.  "You
okay, Sweetie?"

	"Oh, yesssss..."

	"I think we're starting to race again..."

	"I don't CARE!" Bianca wailed.  "I want you to touch me!  I want to
touch YOU!  I'm... so close..."

	"Oh?  Well, in THAT case..."  Pete slipped his finger inside the leg
band and dragged it up and down along her labia, quickly finding her clit
and teasing it.

	THAT took no effort at all!  Bianca went rigid, and her lungs
constricted as she leapt over her peak under the unexpected impetus of
Pete's fingers!  Fireworks exploded before her eyes (which rolled up, not
that it caused Pete any worry; he'd seen THAT once before...)
"NNNNNGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!"  Pete held her while she surged and bucked against
him, wondering if, when the time finally came to give her what she was
asking for, he'd manage to improve on the performance of a fifteen-year-
old...  God, she was hot!

	In a moment, she relaxed against him, cuddling up.  "How was that?"
Pete asked.

	"Mmmmmm, so good..." Bianca slurred.

	"You were 'way too tense," Pete observed, thinking, 'Now, if I can
avoid the same problem...'

	Bianca, however, was ahead of him; her lips were working his neck,
and her hand rubbed his erection through his sweatpants.  "Now I want to see
it," she murmured in his ear.

	Pete thought about it briefly, and could come up with no good reason
not to let her, so he slid the sweats down his legs; Bianca had both hands
on his erection before he could kick them off.  "Mmmmm," she murmured.  How
to describe the thing?  She'd seen it -- and three others -- before; it was
amazing just how different they could be!  But Pete's was, well, she didn't
know -- could you call a penis beautiful?  Her hands couldn't get enough of
it...

	"Where did you learn to do that?" Pete gasped.  Those soft hands
were incredible, running up and down his shaft!  She was doing this weird
swap-off thing with them, one following the other down until she let go with
the first hand as the second got to the bottom, then she reversed direction,
coming up, the bottom hand coming back as soon as there was room and the top
hand coming off to allow the bottom one to finish the stroke...

	"Hmmm?" she replied, not looking up at him; she was fascinated by
the look, the feel -- soft, yet rigid; this would be better than anything
she could think of, inside her!

	"You're, umm, masturbating me -- and it's really good!  I've never
seen that move before..."

	"Really?  Is it good?  Will you... cum?" she asked, glancing up.

	"Probably," he grunted.  "You're not the only one who's a little
tense..."

	"Want me to lick it?" Bianca asked.  "I watched Felicia..."

	"Felicia?"

	"The Wench," Bianca supplied.  "That's her real name."

	"Oh.  Well, you don't HAVE to..." Pete temporized.

	"Maybe I WANT to!" Bianca replied.  "Tell me what to do!"

	"Okay..."  Pete watched, mesmerized, as the young woman's head
lowered itself toward his glans.  "Ummm, no teeth.  Lips and tongue, and
pull in your cheeks so that you get the maximum amount of contact.  There
are... places..."  Sensations made speech difficult as her tongue swept over
the tip.  "Places that are more sensitive.  The head.  Just behind the
ridge, especially.  Underneath the tip there is especially sensitive...
Uhhh...  Yeah, there..."

	Bianca loved it!  She'd had a flash of momentary concern over what
the taste might be -- 'after all, he pees from there' -- and it WAS
different than expected -- but it was good different.  His instructions
dictated a particular orientation, so she rolled up and straddled his knees,
which allowed her to see both his... cock... and the expressions flickering
across his face as she toyed with the spongy head of his probe.

	Pete got a pair of big brown eyes watching him over lips that
managed to quirk in an impish grin while they absorbed and released his
glans.  A small hand managed to continue to sweep up and down his shaft, and
in the background Bianca's golden orbs, framed by her open blouse, swayed
gently to her movements.  Who on Earth could pass THAT up?  And that was
just the visual feast; the things her lips and tongue (and right hand) were
doing to his dick...  "Uuuuuhhhh!  You've never done that before?"

	Bianca backed off enough to deliver a flat-tongued lap to the
sensitive underside of Pete's glans, "No."

	"Well, you're a natural!" Pete wheezed.  "I don't know how long I
can last!"  He sucked in another breath, groaned.  "When I cum, I can't
control it.  You should..."

	Bianca pulled back to talk again, lapping intermittently, "Felicia
says, (lap), that I should, (lap), swallow, (lap)..."

	That did it.  "Oh, shit!"  Pete started to quake, muscles jumping.
Bianca dove on him; what was coming was clear.  She was going to get a taste
of cum!  Pete had been leaking something intermittently for the last couple
of minutes that wasn't pee, but wasn't white goo, either; given the way it
coated her tongue, it must be a lubricant.  Now, though, Pete's penis got
HARD and started throbbing...  "I... It..."  Pete tried to get out a
warning, but Bianca's eyes said she knew what was coming, anyway.
"Huuuunnnnnnngh!"

	Bianca, who had shifted to working her lips back and forth over the
ridge of his glans while playing the underside with her tongue, felt the
first mighty pulse, then tasted the result.  It was... complex; smooth over
a vague saltiness, with a bitter aftertaste.  Not awful, but it would take
some getting used to...  The second pulse made disposal an urgent issue, so
she swallowed -- and discovered the stickiness of the fluid as it coated her
throat.  Pulse number three was smaller, and after that, there was more
throbbing than product pouring from Pete's penis -- which was a good thing,
since the sticky goop was trying to make her choke -- but Bianca's eyes
shone!  She'd given her first blowjob, and apparently it had been a wild
success!

	Pete, who had gone totally rigid, relaxed.  "Wow!  That was
something!  I don't think I've EVER cum that fast!"  Maybe he had back when
he was a kid, but certainly not lately; Amy, for instance, wasn't much for
giving head -- dicks were for riding and getting her rocks off, not sucking
the stiffness out of, in Amy's opinion -- and Pete couldn't blame her.  Most
girls just didn't seem to see much benefit to cock sucking other than as a
way to stave off the penetration of their panties -- but Bianca had taken to
it like a duck to water, and Pete KNEW that SHE wanted her little pussy
plowed!  "Are you okay?"

	"Yes," Bianca choked out, swallowing hard.  "Sticky..."

	"Where's your Coke?"  Pete was instantly solicitous, chasing the can
from the bedside table into her grip.  "Here, wash it down.  Sorry about
that..."

	Bianca took three big gulps and set the can down, "That's okay -- it
was fun!"  She surged forward into Pete's arms.  "We'll have to do that
again!"

	'You're gonna make some lucky bastard one helluva wife!' Pete
thought.  Undoubtedly, it wouldn't be him, but...  It was all the more
reason to make her experience the best it could possibly be...  "Okay, well,
now that everybody's a whole lot less tense, we can settle back and enjoy
ourselves."

	"Okay," Bianca replied, pulling off her blouse.  "Let's get under
the covers!"  She hopped up off the bed and shucked out of her skirt,
following it after a moment's thought with her pair of pink panties.

	"Um, okay..."  Pete watched, bemused.  God!  What a body!  Bianca
has S-curves where a lot of girls barely drifted from straight lines!

	"You, too!" Bianca prompted.

	"Are you sure?" Pete asked.

	"Of course!  Why not?"  Bianca plopped back onto the bed.

	"Well, no reason, I guess.  It's gonna be a bit before I can go
again..."  He stood, getting out of his sweats, basically without ceremony.
That bodacious blowjob had triggered a serious load, and his trouser snake
wasn't exactly at its peak...

	Bianca crawled across the bed to eye his now flaccid member up
close.  "Wow!  That took a lot out of it, huh?  Well, it'll be back.  See?"
Pete's cock was already swelling under her regard.  "I guess if I want to
feel it while it's soft..." She reached out to take it in her hand.  "Wow!
It IS soft!  Silky!  It's pretty amazing how hard it gets..."

	Pete was thoroughly embarrassed.  How long had it been since he
really did the discovery thing with a girl?  It was so cute...  "Well, it's
not going to stay soft with you playing with it -- but I will still take a
bit to recharge..."

	"I'd read that," Bianca related.  "But it can't be much -- you did
Felicia twice in what?  Twenty minutes?"

	"Okay, you got me, there," Pete grinned.  "Still, I've got a little
bit of performance anxiety..."

	"I've seen you, mi amour.  I know it will be wonderful."  Bianca
settled back on the pillows.  "Let's not get under the covers after all.  I
want to... explore..."

	"Me, too."  Pete crawled up beside her, and started toying with her
pubic hair.  "I guess we've got all night..."

	Bianca's expression was full of determination when she replied, "I'm
not leaving until we do it -- if it takes until Tuesday!"

	"It won't," Pete replied.  "But I want us to have fun, and I want
you to be fully prepared.  It's not always pleasant, initially.  I want to
keep the pain down and the pleasure up, so we're gonna stoke things, okay?"

	"Okay."  Bianca's legs were drifting apart.

	Pete was well-prepared to take advantage of her cooperation.  "Okay,
I'm going to get a good look at the patient, then, all right?"

	"Uh huh!"  Bianca started sliding down in the bed, opening her legs
in the process.  "I want to see your... tool, too!" she giggled.  "Your
hymen reduction tool..."

	Pete chuckled.  "It's more of a vaginal stimulation tool," he
related, arraying himself beside her with his head at her crotch and his
crotch within her reach.

	"Oh, boy!" she sighed as his fingers began gently tracing over her
mons, "I can't wait for the treatment..."

                         --------------------

	Armand settled back.  "Determined, isn't she?"  He dragged Sharon
closer and resumed mauling her left breast.

	"She gets that stubbornness from her father, I think," Sharon
observed.  "Not that I had anything to do with him..."

	The Wench, collapsed on Armand's opposite side, asked with her eyes
for permission to speak.  Sharon picked it up and nodded in her direction,
pointing her out to Armand, who murmured, "Speak."

	"I agree with Mistress.  Inez doesn't have that; she tends to go
with the flow -- a fatalist."

	"She has a bit of a temper, too," Armand continued.

	"Both of her parents have THAT!" the Wench chuckled.  "I think
Bianca controls it better than her daddy."

	"Mmph.  Tend to agree.  Wench, you're released."

	"May I stay, Master?  You and Mistress are both here; I feel that
this is my place..."

	Armand thought about it.  The episode of 'Innocents Abroad' being
beamed from the servant's quarters had made him feel mildly romantic, and
brought on vague plans for more or less recreational sex with Sharon -- but
maybe it was better if he didn't QUITE surrender to sloppy sentiment...
"So, I haven't abused you enough?"

	"Ummm, I was thinking that Mistress hasn't..." the Wench replied
guardedly.

	"Ah," Armand chuckled.  That HAD been part of the early plan, before
they got on to voyeurism.  "Perhaps you're right.  Crawl over and give her a
good tongue-lashing.  If Sharon approves of your efforts, we may let you
sleep at the foot of the bed..."

	Sharon papered over her exasperation with a poker face.  What WAS
the purpose behind this pattern of setting her up for girl-girl sex?  Ah,
well -- at least Felicia knew EXACTLY what she was doing...  Sharon looked
down to where Felicia, apparently pleased with this turn of events, was
gently prying her legs apart.  Fighting the whole thing was a waste of
time...  Armand pulled Sharon against him, necessitating slight adjustments
below, and shoved his tongue down her neck.  Well!  Maybe...