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Subject: {ASSM} Sam - Part 17  (FF, MF, tort, exhib, size, viol)
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Date: Mon, 25 Sep 2006 08:10:02 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Sam - Part17.doc" begin>

Sam - Part 17

by Samantha K
(FF, MF, tort, exhib, size, viol)
[comments welcome: SamanthaK(at)fastmail.fm]

In the morning, I was so hungry that I didn't even bother to
brush my hair or pull on a robe over my gauzy nightgown before
hauling my butt downstairs to breakfast.  I should have eaten
something before I went to bed the night before, but I had been
way too tired.  Now, I was running a deep energy deficit for all
the quick healing I had done and I craved anything with sugar and
fat in it.

Mom eyed the big puddle of syrup around my stack of pancakes, but
said nothing.  She just went back into the kitchen and started a
pan of sausages.  I heard the sizzle when they hit the pan and it
made my mouth water.

Jim and Bud straggled in and dropped into their chairs.  They
both looked at me and then at each other.  Both shook their heads
and Bud shrugged.  I think I knew what that was about.  I was
getting better at reading them and their version of fraternal
non-vocal communication.  I would have said something apologetic,
but my mouth was busy.  Bud beat me to it.

"Rough night last night?" he asked.

"Umfph," I mumbled around a mouthful.  I took a sip of juice
before continuing.  "Yeah.  Rough."  I shoveled in another
forkful.

"Thought so.  I heard you and Jim come in late, but I was already
in bed.  Were you in that business at the Montgomery farm?"

"Maybe she doesn't want to talk about it," Jim suggested.  It was
more tact than he usually showed.  Most of the time he would have
just aimed a slap at his brother for saying something dumb.

"No," I said, swallowing.  I put my fork down for a moment and
dabbed with a paper napkin at a drop of syrup that had fallen
into the crevasse between my boobs.  I was still hungry, but I
decided that I had better pace myself.  Besides, the sausages
were starting to smell very good and I definitely wanted some. 
"It's OK, Jim.  Last night I just didn't want you to ask anything
in front of Steve that I might not have wanted to answer.  You
two are family.  You already know the kinds of stuff I get
into."

Jim smiled at the 'family' reference.  They both sat up a little
straighter, as if I had said something to make them
self-conscious.

"There are some things that some people are better off not
hearing all the nasty details about," I said in a low voice,
tilting my head and pointing my fork toward the closed kitchen
door.  "Steve included."

"You know," Jim said, "He's going to like you anyway.  I think
you're worrying over nothing."

"Maybe.  But let's break him in slow, hunh?  I don't want anyone
worrying about me unnecessarily."

"Ha!  I think he already knows that when you slip away someplace,
it's not you that anyone should be worried about.  It's the poor
fools who piss you off."

I smiled.  I would have said something, but somehow more food had
managed to jump into my mouth when I wasn't looking.  I chewed
while Jim talked.

"I know Neeka was covering for you last night.  I can't read her
mind like you can, but I know her well enough to tell that she
wasn't giving us the whole deal on what you were up to in that
barn.  I knew that wasn't for my benefit.  You really are   ah  
fond of Steve?"

"Really."

"Good.  Steve's a good guy.   Don't hurt him."

I opened my mouth to say something, and food almost fell out.  I
closed it again and thought about Jim's comment.  It was kind of
abrupt to say it like that, but he and I were on the same page. 
The problem was; what was the best thing to do?  Would it be
doing Steve a kindness to keep him in the dark about my
adventures or would he be more hurt to find out that I had kept
things from him?  I needed a simple set of rules to help me keep
it all straight, one that didn't involve remembering a bunch of
complicated lies.  I went over this again and again in my head
and came back to the same decision I had made before.  Neeka
would know everything.  I couldn't keep anything from her anyway,
and it was comforting to have someone from whom I had no secrets
at all.  Everyone else would have to be on a need-to-know
arrangement.  Need, or accident, or emergency, or something; but
I made a resolution to keep my mouth shut about things that
happened to me that didn't make it on TV.  The hard and
unpleasant fact was that what my family and friends didn't know
couldn't hurt them or me; while things they did know   might,
regardless of intentions, good or otherwise.  I hated this, but
it seemed to be something else that went with the job.  

Besides, I had already started writing all this down for
posterity and to have a private place to vent my frustrations and
fears about what was happening without having to edit out the
'good parts'.  I tried hard not to admit to myself that it was
really a way to record everything in case one day I screwed up
and didn't make it home again.

Not for the first time, I wondered if the price I was paying to
play superheroine was worth the hassle and the risk.  The memory
that came back to me was of the terrified faces of those kids in
the supermarket where I had made my first public appearance. 
That still haunted me.  It steeled my resolve to go on with this
like nothing else ever could.  Whatever else happened, whoever I
might save   even if only in theory by cutting down on the
criminal population   I had done good in that situation.  If I
had reason to doubt, I could always look back on that and feel
that it had all been worthwhile.

So I was right back to where I started.  I had to keep secrets
from people I trusted.  It was a bitter pill that I was extremely
unhappy about having to swallow, but I couldn't find a way to
argue my way out of it.

The look on my face while I thought this over must have said a
lot about what I was thinking.  When I looked back at Jim, he was
looking me right in the eyes.

"You know," he said, hesitantly, "I think that look is even
scarier than your dragon-face."

Bud chimed in, "No shit!"

I shifted my gaze to the younger brother without changing my
expression.  Bud swallowed and shifted his butt to the edge of
his chair as though he were thinking of bolting out the door.

"No offense!" Bud said, quickly, apologetically, and apparently
sincerely.  

"It's OK.  It's just that this goes way further than anyone's
feelings.    I will try my best not to hurt anyone, but the
deeper I get into this, the more I realize that there are worse
things than being out of the loop.  I'm going to be making
enemies.  Some of them will be very unpleasant people.  Remember
Bubba and Leon?  What if they came around while we were at
school?  Not that they would, even if they got the chance.  My
understanding is that if they were dropped off in front of this
house, they would run away as fast as they could."

"Yeah, probably peeing their pants all the way.  The people you
ran into last night won't be a problem, either," Jim said.  

It occurred to me that he was testing to see if I wanted to talk
about what happened.  He'd been close enough to know it would be
an interesting story.  He was right, though.  I did need to talk,
but this wasn't the time.  

"Yeah, well we can talk about that after I've seen the news. 
There are some things I need to know first.  But my point is that
I need as much separation from home and my job as I can get, OK?
This way it's better for everyone.  So if I don't tell you stuff,
don't be mad.  And if I want you to help me keep secrets from
Steve, I hope you understand that it's for his benefit, too."

"This is really a job to you?" Bud asked.

"I think of it that way.  A job.  A career.  Whatever.  It's what
I'm going to be doing with my life.  Like I told Sue, the pay
sucks, but there is a lot of satisfaction in it."

"You're taking this very seriously," Jim commented.

"You betcha, sport.  As serious as a heart-attack.  The more I do
it, the more I see that it needs doing."

Mom brought in a plate of sausages then.  Jim and Bud reached out
to spear some with their forks, but I was there and gone in a
flash.  They only got one apiece.

I grinned at them with a link between my teeth and hot grease
dripping from my chin.  If they wanted to duel me for food when I
was running an energy deficit, they were going to be up against
some stiff competition.  Mom smiled and went back in the kitchen
to see what else she could find in the fridge.  I guessed that
having food you just cooked snatched off the platter as soon as
it hit the table must be one of the more gratifying things about
being domestic.

"What tipped you off in the restaurant?" Bud asked.  "You shot
out of there before we knew something was up."

"I heard two goons trying to extort Connie's uncle.  His office
wall was just behind me and I could hear them talking through it.
 He was holding out, too...until they threatened to do something
to Connie."

"What?  Those bastards!"

"My sentiments exactly.  I went out to the parking lot to reason
with them.  Things took off from there."

"Damn!" Jim said.  "I wish I had known that.  I'd have gone out
there with you."

"Me too!" Bud said.

Their eagerness explained a lot about the conversation.  I tried
to think of a way to defuse this before it went any further.

"So, you guys think you might want to go out with me and Neeka
and do some crimefighting sometime?"

"Shoot, yes!"  You bet!"

"OK, you can come along.  There's just one condition.  You have
to spar with me and either beat me or draw me.  I promise not to
break more than a couple of bones and I'll stop if you bleed too
much.  Deal?"

"Ah, well...."  "Gee, uh..."

"Unhunh.  Look, guys.  Last night I got out of that place just
barely in time to avoid being blown to bits or burnt to a crisp.
I still got singed pretty good, but everyone who was in there
with me got dead.  If you had been in there, you'd be dead, too.
This is not a game.  People get hurt.  People get killed.  I get
hurt.  But I can recover.  Even if I do have to eat like a pig to
do it.

"Jim, you ask Neeka about this.  I don't have to look over my
shoulder to know where she is and what she's doing.  I'd have to
do that with anyone else and it would distract me.  The two times
we went out yesterday, she mostly stayed on the sidelines because
we knew it was just too dangerous for her to mix in."  

I almost told them about Roxy spearing me with that dagger.  I
thought better of it just as I opened my mouth.  That would have
been too grisly.  I was starting to think I had really come too
close to the edge that time.  Another fraction of an inch and I
wouldn't have been here to tell this.

"And you like being hurt."  Jim wasn't being mean.  He sounded
more disappointed than anything.  He was implying that he didn't
think he could stand in the fire like I had been doing.  And he
was stating something that he knew for a fact.

"Let's say I have learned to appreciate certain sensations that
others might find...unpleasant.  I think of it as a professional
hazard.  I'm not invulnerable.  This is how I make up for that
deficiency."

They thought that over.  From their expressions, they realized
that going out on a job with me needed to remain something that
they only fantasized about.

"I still need your help," I said.  "I need you to cover for me. 
I need you to help keep my head on straight through all this. 
Mostly I need something like a normal life to come home to."

"'Normal', she says," Jim chuckled.  The way he smiled, I knew he
wasn't laughing at me but at the situation.

"Yeah, well...more normal than escaping by the skin of my teeth
from exploding buildings, or going toe to toe with lunatics
driving tanks, or tearing apart wrecked minivans.  That stuff can
stress you out, you know.   I need to be able to unwind."

"Right.  Unwinding is fun, too.  What do you say, Bud?"

"Oh yeah!  Unwinding is fun.  Which reminds me, are you planning
anything this weekend?"

"Like another party?  No, after the last couple of weeks, I think
I need to cut back on the partying.  I plan to go visit a friend
on Saturday.  Other than that, I think I need to hit the books
some and just kick back."  That, and a workout or two, and some
Kung Fu practice.  Now that I thought about it, I would have a
full weekend just trying to catch up with things I had missed
during all the week's excitement.

Mom had come in with a plate of French toast while we were
talking.  The smell was heavenly, but I held myself to only one
piece.  When the subject of weekend plans came up, she looked
both relieved and disappointed that there wouldn't be a gaggle of
girls romping through the house again and staying up until all
hours of the night.

"Maybe you'd all like to go to the beach one afternoon?" she
suggested.  We could drive over on Sunday if the weather is
nice.

That sounded like a nice, family-type thing to do.  It seemed a
little early in the year for beach trips to me, but I hadn't seen
much sand growing up, so I wouldn't really know.  Even though it
was only about an hour's drive to the Gulf, my parents had never
taken me and the few times Yvette had let me go on organized
outings, the chaperones acted like concentration camp guards. 
"Zer vill be no fun herr today!  Nicht!"  It seemed funny to me
now and I smiled at the memory.  It was one of the first times I
had been able to look back and find something funny, instead of
horrible.

Mom misunderstood my expression.  "Sam seems to like the idea. 
How about it?  Just the four of us?  Fiona told me that Carl will
be back in town on Saturday.  The Morgans are due for some
quality family time and I thought we might do the same."

Jim smiled slyly and got a mischievous look in his eye.  "OK,
just the four of us.  But on one condition...."

"What?"  Mom sounded surprised at Jim's presumption that he could
dictate terms.  She looked curious as well.

"Just that you go as 'Bambi', not 'Mom'."

She blushed.  She looked pleased, but she had to ask the logical
question.

"All right.  But why?"

"Because I know the two of you are going to try to outdo each
other by wearing the sexiest swimsuits you can without getting
arrested.  I don't think I could stand it if I had to keep
reminding myself to think of you as 'Mom'."

Bud nodded his agreement.  He and Jim hadn't exchanged any
significant looks, so I guessed this was purely Jim's idea.  It
was the first time he had gone further than just agreeing to the
new family roles.

"Well, I think I'll take that as a challenge," Bambi declared. 
"So, you'd like to see me in a sexy swimsuit, hmmm?"  Dressing
provocatively was the very thing she lived for.  I could almost
see her mentally searching her wardrobe for the right thing to
wear.

Jim looked right at her for a beat before answering.  He leaned
back slightly in his chair, his posture indicating that he wasn't
uncomfortable having this slightly flirtatious conversation.  He
said, "Oh, yeah!  And so would every other guy on the beach.  I'm
sure I speak for all males between the ages of 12 and 120 on
this.  Think of it as a public service   as well as a private
favor."

"Well, since you put it that way...how can I refuse?" 

"This is going to be fun!" I said.  I had meant to be supportive,
but I found that I was really getting into the spirit of the
thing.  I had also thought of something that Bambi hadn't.  I
concentrated for the necessary couple of seconds and said, "I can
wear my new suit!"  I opened my nightgown and revealed the faux
version of the blue bikini that was upstairs in a drawer.

Bambi laughed, then suddenly looked serious, as she realized that
I could top her at will when it came to wearing sexy swimwear.  I
could mimic anything she wore, and make mine even smaller and, of
necessity, skin tight.  Her serious look melted quickly, though.
She smiled and nodded at me, accepting the challenge.

"Yes, lots of fun," Jim said, seeing the looks Bambi and I were
giving each other.  

Surely he hadn't thought so far ahead that he had anticipated the
competition that his suggestion had started.  Or was I
underestimating Jim again?  Maybe it was just his hormones
talking.  Either way, it would be a win-win situation for the
boys to get the girls into a contest to see who could be the
biggest exhibitionist.  I decided that I would be nice and not
try to top Bambi, but she didn't need to know that.  Let her
think that she had to go as far as she dared.  The result might
be very interesting indeed.



For my school clothes that day, I put on a faded old denim skirt
that I had hacked the lower third off of with a pair of shears
and then never had the guts to try to get past Yvette with it on.
 I had even tried to fix it by popping the side seams at the
waist, so I could wear it low on my hips, but that made it worse,
rather than better, so I had hidden it away in the back of my old
closet.  Now that some of the sting of the old days was starting
to fade, I got it out and put it on with a scoop-neck tank-top
that Bambi had bought for me.  As school clothes went, the outfit
was almost demure, showing little cleavage but a good bit of skin
below my navel.  The split seams were the sexiest thing about it,
showing enough skin on each side to make it questionable if I
were wearing panties.  Which I wasn't, of course.  I added a
macram belt to the skirt, just to make sure that if the seams let
go even more, it wouldn't fall off at an inconvenient time.

I then took a few minutes to deal with something that I had
noticed happening, but hadn't understood until lately.  Even
though I had been getting fucked fairly regularly, and by some of
the biggest cocks imaginable, whenever I had to trance-out and
force my body to heal there was always a side-effect.  The
healing refused to be confined entirely to the site of the
injury.  Instead, it spread all over and insisted on trying to
'fix' all of me, in effect, changing my whole body to an earlier
physical state.  In my case, the most obvious result was to
reverse the wear and tear on my sex organs and change me back
into a virgin.

As wonderfully kinky as it sounds, this isn't really a good
thing.  It actually felt like my pussy was growing shut.  Believe
me, having your cherry busted once is enough.  Doing it again and
again takes a lot of the pleasure out of fucking, even for a
pain-slut like me.  See, the order of events is all wrong.  The
pain should come later, after I'm totally turned on, not right
when the guy is first trying to get his cock into me.

So my original worry about getting too loose was totally wrong. 
The reality was that if I was going to do the healing trick
regularly, then I needed to do something to keep from getting too
small, especially with Bud, Jim, and Steve ready to pound me
mercilessly at the drop of a hankie.  The steel balls had
actually helped, but I was bored with them.  I decided that I
needed to find something else that would keep my pussy from going
back to the diameter of a soda straw, so I got down on the floor
and looked through the toy-drawer to see if anything looked
interesting.

A lot of the stuff was just different color, size and shape
dildos, but some of it was intriguing.  I pulled out a giant
pacifier that had clearly been intended as a gag-gift by the
manufacturer.  Someone had removed the ring-shaped handle,
leaving a device about five or six inches long   a big rubber
bulb tapering to a curved plastic retainer with a small knob in
the center of the other side where the handle used to be.  I
turned it over in my hand, fascinated that someone   presumably
Ben Reynolds   had seen the possibilities of the thing as a
sex-toy.

It seemed too cute to pass up and it was perfect for what I
needed   something to keep me stretched open and for my hungry
twat to suck on to keep it busy while I concentrated on
schoolwork.  I sat on the floor, hiked up my skirt, spread my
legs and fed my pussy the outsized pacifier.

The bulb was fairly large and it didn't want to go in at first,
but I squeezed and pushed and it popped inside and snugged the
out-sized plastic mouth-guard up against a pair of the other kind
of lips.  I stood up, smoothed down my skirt and walked a few
steps to make sure it was going to work.

It was surprisingly comfortable.  The plastic retainer fit
perfectly.  And the big, soft rubber bulb inside me felt really
great when I flexed my vaginal muscles.  I decided to wear it all
day if I could.  It was the ideal way to keep from shrinking too
small, exercise a set of very important muscles, and keep a
sexual edge without having it make me crazy with lust.

Being the first to finish breakfast meant I was running early and
I had plenty of time to walk to school.  The morning sun was warm
and the breeze was neither warm nor cool, but simply refreshing.
The weather report was for higher temperatures and no rain for
the next several days, so our beach trip was looking like an
excellent plan.  I understood Mom wanting to have some family
time with us.  I was very happy to be a member of this family and
some quiet time lying on the beach certainly sounded attractive
after the last few hectic days.

It struck me that it all seemed so unreal, like I might wake up
any minute and find it was all a dream.  I had gone from a
terrible home situation to what looked at first like an even
worse one, only to find that things were not at all what they
seemed.  Now, I had a new family and it was like I was living
someone else's life   someone whose life should have been written
in the pages of a comic book full of neatly plotted adventures
with gaudily drawn characters that existed only for the purpose
of the story.  Instead, I had to deal with real problems instead
of contrived ones, real people instead of two-dimensional
characters, and real situations that had never seen the printed
page.  And if there was a plot here, I hadn't figured out what it
was yet.  I was just going from day to day, coping as best I
could and trying to do the best I could with what I had to work
with.  I felt like I had been shoved onstage in the middle of a
play, without having had a chance to learn my lines, or even read
the script.

The sense of being a stranger in a strange land faded the closer
I got to school and other people who were neither adults yet nor
kids any longer who also had few clues to who they were and what
they were going to become.  I reflected that, in a way, I was the
lucky one.  I already knew what I was going to be doing with my
life.  I was already doing it, and I hoped I was getting better
at it as I got more practice at it.  I clung to that thought, and
it made me feel much better to remember that, whatever else
happened, I had a mission in life.

As I walked up the last block to the schoolyard, I could hear the
voices of other early arrivals as they hung out in small groups
outside the doors.  Their conversations seemed louder and more
animated than usual this morning.  I wondered what could be going
on to cause such a buzz.

The first group I passed answered the question for me and I
laughed to think that I hadn't figured it out sooner, or even
anticipated it.  The number one topic of every conversation I
could hear was me   or more properly, The Dragon and Ace.

"Nothing like being on TV to make you an instant celebrity," I
thought, as I slowly strolled and casually eavesdropped.

Neeka's pseudonym hadn't yet become common knowledge, so mostly
she was referred to as 'the girl with the cool bike' and 'the
biker girl'.  I resolved to name-drop as soon as an opportunity
presented itself.

I looked around for 'biker girl' herself and spotted her standing
with a group of other girls under one of the few good shade trees
on the school grounds.  I started to go over and ask her what she
thought of all the notoriety when she saw me coming and warned me
off.

"Better not, Sam," she told me, mind to mind.  "I've already
heard a few people describe my alter-ego as looking something
vaguely like me.  If they see us together, some genius might
notice a similarity that we'd rather they didn't.  We'll catch up
later."

That was all she had time for at the moment.  As I angled away
and walked on, I heard one of her friends say that 'biker girl'
might even be a guy under that disguise.  I walked away faster,
giggling to myself as I felt the heat of Neeka's blood rising at
being mistaken for a boy.  I thought there might be some costume
changes coming shortly.

"Yuk it up, Sam," Neeka said.  "It's your fault, you know.  Next
to you, almost anyone would look masculine."

That caught me by surprise.  It implied that if I wanted to look
less like my own alter-ego, I needed to de-emphasize my figure. 
This meant giving up most of the wonderful sexy clothes that I
had fallen in love with wearing.  I was standing there, picturing
myself looking dowdy in a loose, baggy dress when Sara Henderson
caught up to me.

"Sam!" she said in an intense whisper, as she pulled me away from
the growing crowd.  "Do you have any idea how famous you are? 
Absolutely everyone is talking about The Dragon." 

"And Ace," I reminded her, although I couldn't remember if we had
clued her in to Neeka's choice of an alias before the dinner
party broke up.

"Right," she said.  She didn't seem surprised, so I supposed that
the subject had come up during dinner and I'd missed it.  

"Has anyone noticed a similarity between me and The Dragon yet?"
I asked, hoping that all the TV pictures hadn't screwed-up my
chance to have some 'normal' time in my life.

"Are you kidding?  Are you green and scaly?  Do you have the face
of a fire-breathing lizard?"

"Not at the moment."

"Then relax.  No one is going to even think of the possibility. 
You don't realize how effective your, uh, 'makeup' is.  If I
didn't already know, I wouldn't have guessed.  On TV it looks
absolutely real."

"Whew!  That's a relief," I said.  People had been telling me how
good it looked, even up close.  Even those people who had seen it
more than once still had a hard time looking at it and seeing
past the image crawling over my skin.

"A lot of people think it's all fake.  They say that the TV
footage is all FX and the whole thing is like that old War of the
Worlds radio hoax.  Of course they can't explain how all the
papers and police and everybody is in on it."

"'There ain't no such animal.'"

"Hunh?"

"What the old farmer said when he went to the zoo and saw an
elephant for the first time.  Some people insist on holding onto
their version of reality even in the face of irrefutable evidence
that it's wrong."  I remembered my meeting with Trooper Trammel
and how he was perfectly happy to exclude me from his world-view
as well as from his report.

"I guess," Sara said dismissively, and I knew I had slipped into
pedantic mode again.

"Is anybody talking about the fire last night?"

"Not that I've heard.  That was you too?  I figured you were up
to something when you didn't come back from the ladies room. 
Neeka wouldn't say anything other than you'd gone after some bad
guys and she needed a ride to follow you."

"And Steve volunteered?"

"Right away.  We all wanted to go, but Steve said you wouldn't
want everyone coming after you and he could only take two others
 meaning Neeka and Jim."

"So you got stuck with Bud?"

"I don't know that 'stuck' is the word I would use.  Bud is
hardly the boobie-prize.  He's maturing fast.  He's a lot more
fun to talk to lately."

"How so?"

"He listens.  I mean, he pays attention to what I say.  He tries
to relate.  That's unusual.  At least it is compared to some of
the other guys I've gone out with."

I thought that all the sex Bud had been getting lately might be
responsible for that.  I knew my brain worked a lot better when
my hormones had been burned off.  I guessed that the same was
true for the boys, too.  Or it might just have been that he was
hanging out with girls a lot more lately.  Certainly he and
Jolene were spending every minute they could together, and when
he wasn't with her, he was often with me.  This might just have
been a case of familiarity breeding relaxation and
consideration.

The bell rang before I could do any more eavesdropping, but it
didn't matter at all.   The Dragon and Ace stayed topic number
one all day long.  By and large, I ignored it.  Whenever I was
drawn into a conversation on the subject, I made sure to mention
that I heard that the biker girl's name was Ace and then I bit my
tongue and suggested that The Dragon must be an alien from a
distant galaxy.

That opinion got me dropped from most discussions on the subject
pretty quickly and I went back to focusing on my schoolwork.  My
classes moved to the front of my mind, leaving my insatiable
pussy to work on its pacifier   something that seemed to satisfy
it pretty effectively without dragging me off to the restroom
every hour to frig my clit.  A few times I caught some strange
looks because I would be unconsciously rocking my butt around or
jerking my hips as my pussy sucked away on the rubber bulb.

"Heck, what are they going to think," I wondered.  "That I have a
hungry beast between my legs that needs constant feeding?  Well,
they're right.  And a reputation as a sex-crazed teenager is
probably an excellent antidote to anyone's suspicions about me
and my alter-ego.  That is the cover I'd planned to use."

Before, I might have worried about people's opinions of me, right
or wrong.  Now, I didn't care what they thought, as long as they
put one and one together and got 'sexpot' instead of adding two
and two and getting 'superheroine'.  Mom had suggested that a rep
as a dumb blonde was a good cover.  I couldn't do the 'dumb'
part, not with the grades I had been getting, but I could overdo
the 'blonde' part as much as I wanted and get the same effect.

By lunchtime, I was ready for a break and was glad to be able to
sneak off to the weight room.  I had mostly put out of my mind
how much the wrestling team knew about my strength.  I was just
walking into the room when it occurred to me that they certainly
knew enough to figure it out, 'blonde' overkill or not.

"Hi, Sam!" Steve called when I dropped my towel over the weight
bench.

"Hi!"  I called back.  Steve was doing one-handed bicep curls
with his arm on one of the type of padded supports with which I
was so familiar.  I watched him for a bit, reminiscing about
supports and clamps and stuff until my nipples started to throb,
then I looked around the room at the other guys.  They all nodded
back and smiled or waved.  It was all very normal-seeming and
casual.  I knew something was up immediately.

I walked over to Steve and bent down to whisper in his ear, "What
the heck is going on here?"

"Uh oh.  I guess I'm busted," he whispered back.  "I told the
guys that you wouldn't want them to make a big deal about
yesterday and all, seeing what they know and what they might
think they know.  I told them I'd beat the crap out of them if
they didn't lay off you about it.  They took that as a dare. 
Then I told them if that if they made you mad, you might beat the
crap out of them.  That got their attention."

"So they're all playing dumb?  Actually, that's fine with me.  I
can use a little time away from all the chatter and
speculation."

I turned back to the bench to find Roger and Doug loading the big
plates onto the long bar for me.  They must have known by now
that I hardly needed the assistance, but they were going out of
their way to be considerate and I couldn't say anything.

They did look like they were getting almost as good a workout
lifting and loading my weights as they would have doing their own
exercises, so I couldn't claim they were losing out by helping
me.  And it may have been their way of acknowledging me without
saying anything.  On the whole, I liked that arrangement.  It
seemed a very 'guy thing' to do and I remembered that that was
one of the main reasons I was here, anyway   to show them that a
girl could be one of the guys.  

When they had the bar sagging on the hooks, I assumed the
position and took a grip on the bar.  I didn't even look to see
how much weight was on it.  I was trying to stay as calm and
collected as possible to keep the flow or adrenalin in check.  It
was a battle, because I had trained myself to slide into a trance
so easily and I wanted to do this with as little enhancement as
possible.   I needed to find a mental place that let me fine-tune
the amount of power I could use.  I knew how to turn the faucet
on full-blast, now I needed to see if I could get it to trickle
as needed.

I took a couple of deep breaths and did just the opposite of what
you normally do under a weight, I relaxed.  I made my grip tight,
but left the rest of my body loose.   I pushed up against the
bar, gradually increasing the force I used until started to feel
the effort in my arms and shoulders.  I kept pressing until I
felt my pectorals tensing into knots.  I had barely begun to take
the curve out of the bar when I felt the muscles of my abdomen
and neck tense in sympathy.

I kept on pressing, focusing on staying cool and not getting
worked up, until I felt like I had reached the maximum effort I
could put out unaided.  I was mildly pleased to see that all on
my own, I had taken most of the weight and it felt like it was
about to break free of the hooks.  Still, I could see that I
wasn't going to be able to lift it without applying a lot more
power and I knew it would take even more to be able to control it
when it was in the air.

This was the critical moment.  I tried to feel for the tap that
would allow just the right amount of adrenalin to flow into my
blood and give me the power to raise the bar.  I was trying to
let just a bit into my system when I felt a cool sensation in the
pit of my stomach and the bar lifted off the hooks like it had
suddenly gone weightless.

"Damn!" I swore, and let the bar settle down again.  I let go and
crossed my arms over my stomach and tried to calm down so I could
try it again.

"Something wrong, Sam?" Steve asked in a concerned tone.

"No, I just went too far with it.  I know I have the strength. 
I'm trying to get the hang of controlling it.  Let me relax a
minute and I'll try again."

I closed my eyes, took several deep breaths and then slowed my
breathing deliberately until I felt all the juice had drained
away.  While I was lying there, trying to avoid falling into a
trance, I realized that I was going about this the hard way.  I
knew how I could have near-total control of my body and here I
was avoiding using it.

"Stupid!" I thought.  "Just go with the flow."

I let myself fall into the familiar sideways-drifting and
floating feeling that meant I was under.  I opened my eyes to a
slightly slowed-down and barely out-of-focus world.  I put my
hands back on the bar and felt the rough grips bite into my palms
and my fingers.  The bar felt colder and as I pushed up on it, I
thought I could feel it squirm slightly in my grip as if it was
alive and protesting being abused like this.

I reached out my will and ordered just a small squirt of power. 
Immediately, the bar got lighter, but did not jump off the hooks
as it had before.  I pushed harder and nothing happened.  I asked
for another squirt and the bar broke free and I slowly lifted it
to full extension, locking my elbows to get the balance right.

For the first time, I could feel the weight.  I could feel the
effort it took to keep it in the air.  My shoulders were being
driven down onto the bench.  If they had been as wide as the
guys', my joints would have no support.  As it was, I was
cheating and letting the bench do some of the work.

"Just a touch more," I thought, and the weight fell off to the
point where I was sure I could control it.  Bravely, I lowered it
to my chest, letting it press into the tops of my boobs before
pushing it back up again with an effort.  That effort was
delicious.  It meant I had balanced just the right amount of
power, control and physical effort.  If I hadn't been tranced,
the elation I felt would have raised my adrenalin level and the
bar would have again felt weightless.

I did a paced set of ten repetitions before letting the bar
settle back to the hooks.  Each rep took effort, and each one
drained the juice I had metered into my blood until the last one
was close to the greatest amount of physical effort I could
muster.  I was actually breathing hard when I let go of the bar.
Beads of perspiration ran down my cleavage as I sat up and turned
around to sit on the bench leaning on the bar.

"Not bad," Doug said.  "But you did better the last time.  You
were straining there at the last."

"No, this was better," I told him.  "This time I made it count. 
It's not about brute force."  I stood, straddling the bench and
put my hands under the bar.  "Sure, I could do this..."  I let a
bolt of juice slam into my body and I yanked the bar off the
hooks and snap-curled it.  I put too much into it and it sailed
out of my hands and over my head arcing just below the hanging
light fixtures.

I've never seen boys move so fast in my life.  As soon as the bar
left my hands, Steve, Doug and Roger dove for the farthest point
of the room.  Doug and Roger picked the same corner and landed on
top of each other in a heap.  Steve scuttled up against a
machine, staring at the bar to make sure no part of him was going
to be under it when it hit the floor.

Without the time-dilation effect of the trance, I wouldn't have
been able to appreciate fully the situation.  It all happened in
a split-second before the 1500 pound barbell dropped back within
my reach and I snatched it out of the air and lowered it
carefully onto the supports so I didn't bend the bar out of
shape.

"...but I'd rather do it the hard way, so I get more out of it."
I finished.

All three guys were still on the floor, pulling their feet up so
they wouldn't be crushed if the weights rolled toward them.  They
all looked embarrassed when there was no disaster to be avoided.

"Fuck!" Roger said, in a solemn tone.

"No shit," Doug said.

Steve kept quiet.  He looked at me reproachfully as he got to his
feet, and I felt a pang of guilt at having given in to a fit of
exhibitionism.  He smiled forgivingly as he came back over to me,
though, and I knew he felt bad about letting himself be startled
into jumping for cover.  I was getting better at reading boys
from all this male bonding stuff anyway.

Steve's smile became harder, almost animalistic and I could hear
him breathing through his teeth.  He put his hand around my
now-bulging bicep and pulled me away from the weight bench and
toward the door.  Puzzled, I offered no resistance as he marched
me down the hall to ward the locker room.  I didn't figure out
what was happening until I glanced down and saw the tent his cock
was making in his baggy nylon shorts.  It looked like the circus
had come to town and the Big Top was setting up in Steve's
shorts.  I knew then that I had found a sure-fire way to turn
Steve on.  He was a sucker for strong women and feats of strength
made him instantly horny.  I was being marched into a quiet spot
for what I expected would be some intense fucking.

The idea of Steve being so turned-on that he would drag me off
like a Neanderthal and screw me black and blue set my pussy on
fire.  By the time we got to the entrance to the locker room, it
was a contest of who was dragging whom.  I had removed my
pussy-pacifier when I dressed-out for the weight room, so all I
needed to do was shimmy out of my shorts and pull off my top to
get ready.  

I never got to take off my top.  As soon as both our shorts hit
the floor, Steve pushed me down on a wooden bench on top of a
pile of towels and pulled my legs apart.  As soon as it was
accessible, Steve speared his cock into my pussy, driving it all
the way in with one shove of his hips.  I cried out sharply in
surprise. He had never been this rough with me before, even when
I asked him to.  Now, he was out of control.  He put all his
weight behind his hips as he ground into me, forcing his cock
deeper until our pubic bones were grinding together.  When he
realized that he couldn't get any more in, he pulled back out
until just the head was still inside me and brutally drove it
into me once more.

He grunted, pulled back and did it again.  And again.  And again.
 He kept on pounding into me like a wild man, growling and
grunting in a fit of lust.  He was even more savage than the
satyr, who had been more into savoring the moment.  Steve was
running on pure animal lust and it was contagious.  By the fifth
or sixth stroke, I was matching him, flexing my stomach to bring
my hips up to meet his powerful thrusts.  

It was great!  We both let go more than either of us ever had
before.  Steve tried to pound my pussy into submission with his
cock and I rode him like a bull-rider on a prize mount,
anticipating his movements and meeting him halfway each time. 
Finesse and tenderness were forgotten as the whole experience
became one of brutal, urgent fucking.  There were no caresses, no
kisses, and no loving looks   just his steel-hard cock spearing
into my pussy with the force of a jackhammer cracking concrete. 
We got totally lost in the act, becoming more and more violent,
until we both had to grab hold of the bench to keep from throwing
the other off onto the cold concrete floor.  We rutted madly for
as long as our stamina held out.  

I don't remember having a climax.  I must have, because I was as
high as a kite when we finally wound down.  I know Steve came at
some point, because of the jizz that flowed out of my pussy,
pooled in my anus and dripped onto the towels.  I don't think he
noticed it when it happened, because he never stopped or slowed
down.  We just screwed at top speed until we were exhausted and
then he collapsed onto me and I wrapped my arms and legs around
him, hugging him to me and trying to hold onto his cock with my
pussy like I never wanted to let go.

When he got enough breath back to speak, he said,"Damn!  That was
intense!"

"No shit," I said, borrowing a crude line from Doug.

"Sorry, I think I got carried away there."

"Don't be.  That was amazing.  You were fantastic!  I've never
been so thoroughly screwed before."

We didn't say anything else for a few minutes.  We just lay
there, holding each other, unwilling to let go, perhaps unable to
unbend enough to do so.  It should have been embarrassing when
Roger and Doug walked in on us, but I was past caring.  When they
walked past, I just grinned up at them and wiggled my fingers
without lifting my hand from Steve's hairy back.

They seemed to take the scene in stride.  Neither of them said a
word.  They just stripped, tossed their clothes into their
lockers and went into the shower.  When the hiss of the jets of
water could be heard, Steve chuckled into my ear, "We'd better
hit the shower, too".  Before I could ask what he thought was
funny, he sat up straddling the bench, lifting me with him before
I could let go.  He put both hands on my back and pressed me
against his chest as he stood up and walked toward the shower,
carrying me with him, my arms wrapped halfway around his broad
back, my legs around his slim waist, and my heels digging into
his hard butt.  His cock was getting soft, but it was still
engorged and still stuck up my slit.

"You rat!" I squealed.  I almost demanded that he put me down,
but I was giddy and the kinkiness of the gag appealed to me, so I
decided to see how far Steve was prepared to go with it.

Just to tease him, I rippled my abused and nearly numb vaginal
muscles, pulling on his cock so it wouldn't slip out.  If he was
going to hang onto me, I was going to hang onto him.  We would
see who would give in first.

When Steve felt me clutch his cock, he went "Hurmph" and jerked
his hips up in a reflexive response to shove more of it into me.
I buried my face in his chest hair and purred.  This was
interesting.  I could hold on like this for a long time, and
Steve seemed to have little trouble carrying the extra poundage,
probably since I contributed less than a third of our combined
weight.  I fantasized about Steve going about his day with me
hanging onto him, his cock always plugged into my pussy.  It was
nice.  If we got him some fat-clothes to hide me, we might even
get away with it in places where they didn't know Steve.

When Steve stepped into the shower room, there was a pause before
Doug and Roger noticed what was up.  I couldn't see because of my
position, but I heard them when they started to laugh.  Both of
them laughed a couple of times and then things got quiet again,
which was strange, because I thought it would get a bigger laugh
than it did.  I guessed the sight of a buddy with a girl glued to
his chest and his cock in her may have been just one of those
quick laughs that dries up when you start to think how much you
wish that was you.

I thought Steve might put me down at that point, but he went
right over to a shower and turned on the water.  He turned so I
was out of the spray until it warmed up, then he walked into it
so we both got wet.  Before I knew it, he had doused us with
shampoo and was working up a lather on his head, and then mine.

This was a game I played regularly in the girls' locker room, but
doing it with a cock in me and hanging on to the biggest stud in
school while two other studly types watched made it special.

Squeezing Steve's cock had forced most of the cum out of me, but
the situation made me wet again.  With Steve applying soap to
both of us, I got pretty slippery inside and out.  It occurred to
me that he expected me to slide off from all the soap.  If so, he
failed to take into account my strength and determination.  I
locked my ankles behind him and held on tight to his waist and
his cock, which was coming back to life again very nicely as I
clamped my pussy onto it and worked it like I had been doing with
the pacifier all morning.

I even leaned back and let him wash both our fronts.  He paid
more attention to mine than his, which was just fine with me.  He
even managed to reach around and wash his balls, soaping up the
base of his cock, which was all that wasn't in use.  In the
process, he washed my ass, liberally applying the slick lather to
my anus, which nearly drove me crazy since I wanted him to stick
a soapy finger in there real bad.  Polly had turned me on to a
new erogenous zone, and I wanted someone to explore it for me.

All this was making me seriously horny again and I started to
ride up and down on Steve's nice hard cock by rocking my hips
forward and back, tugging on it as I did so, trying to get it to
give me another dose of boy-cream.

Steve rinsed us off and shut off the shower.  In the silence, I
noticed that we were alone in the room.  Steve walked over to the
wall between the shower heads and pressed my back against the
hard tile.  I reached up and grabbed hold of two of the fixtures
to take some of the weight off so he wouldn't have to hold me up
and was rewarded by feeling him begin to slowly slide his hard
cock in and out of me in a very measured, very sensual pace.

This time there was touching and caressing.  Not by me, I was
hanging from the shower-heads, but Steve's hands were all over
me, exploring while he slow-fucked me to the point where I was
quivering with desire and moaning with each thrust.  I was sure
each time that the next one would put me over the top.

Just when I couldn't stand it anymore and I was about to peak,
Steve stopped fucking and just pressed into me, holding me
tenderly.  I focused on feeling his cock in me, and my reward was
to feel it jerk and throb, then pulse stream after stream of cum
into the depths of my pussy.

It was wonderful, not moving at all, just feeling Steve plant his
creamy seed in my body.  The sensation tipped me over the edge
and with the last throb of his cock, I started to cum.

As he had done for me, I did for him.  I clenched my teeth and
put my head back against the wall so he could see my face as I
came and know the effect he had had on me.  I let him feel the
muscles in my pussy convulse all over his cock, working his cum
into froth as it tried to suck it into my womb.  I let him feel
my cervix, as it bobbed up and down against the head of his cock,
looking for more cum to gobble up.

Only when we both had finished, did I unwrap my legs from his
waist and lower my feet to the floor, letting his cock slide out
of me.

"Damn!" he said, looking down at his cum-slathered organ.  "Looks
like I need another shower."

With my eyes locked onto his, I shook my head and got down on my
knees.  Using only my mouth, I sucked and licked every bit of goo
off his wonderful cock, making sure I reached every fold of skin
and even sucking the last drop out of it before kissing it
passionately and standing up again.

"Mmmmmm.  You do that so well," he said.  "Is this a service I
can sign up for on a regular basis?"

"If you like," I told him, teasingly.  "It's only available for
very special customers."

"I wish we had more time," he said, as we walked out of the
shower room to go get dressed.  

"Me too.  Not that this wasn't great, but I'm getting tired of
this place.  Concrete ambiance and the scent of stale sweat have
a limited appeal for me."

I looked around the locker room.  Doug and Roger were already
dressed and gone.  Steve and I had a few precious minutes of
privacy.  I decided to try to keep the playful mood going while I
could.

"You know, I have a very strong sex drive," I said.

"Could have fooled me," he replied in a tone of mock-surprise. 
He was grinning as he said it.

"I mean it's so strong that I have to take steps to keep it in
check.  Otherwise, I get so hot that I just might boil over."

"That would be interesting to see.  What steps are you talking
about?  Jerking off?"

"Girls don't have anything to jerk.  We frig our clits or rub our
nubs.  I used to do that every couple of hours.  That's tough to
work into a busy day.  I found something that keeps me happy in
between visits from Big Steve here."  I stroked his cock through
his shorts.

"OK, I give.  What is it?"

"This," I said, taking my pacifier out of my bag and holding it
up.

Steve looked at it like he had no clue what it was or what I used
it for.  I waited patiently and saw the light slowly come on in
his eyes.

"You mean you....  Really?"

"I sure do.  It gives my pussy something to play with when it
can't get hold of a nice hard cock.  Would you help me put it
in?"

"Damn!  Are you trying to get me hard again?  If you keep talking
like this I might be able to go one more time."

"I'd love to, but we're going to get caught if we aren't out of
here soon.  No, I just want you to help me get it in.  It's your
stand-in, so I thought you might like to do the honors."

I handed Steve the shortened toy and lay back on the bench.  I
slid my tight skirt up around my waist and spread my legs in a
blatant invitation.  I didn't need to worry about lubrication. 
My pussy was still pretty wet, even if all of Steve's cream had
been hoovered into my womb.  It got even wetter as I watched
Steve's face light up.  

He stared at my slit like he had never seen one before.  It was
funny, but I didn't dare laugh.  I spread my knees even wider and
felt my labia curl open as they became filled with the blood that
was rushing back into my pussy.  Steve seemed fascinated by the
sight of my pink hole.  He just stared at it like he was
hypnotized.

"Come on," I urged him. "Put it in me."

He cleared his throat and said, "I love it when you beg."

He sounded sincere, so I slid my hands down the insides of my
thighs and stroked them up and down my legs.  I whimpered like a
dog begging for a treat and said, "Please?  Pleasepleaseplease, I
need it!   Give my hungry pussy something to suck on, please."

He looked at me like he wasn't sure if I was play-acting or not.
I was obviously having an effect on him.  I put my feet on the
floor and lifted my butt off the bench.  I jerked my hips and
looked as needy as I could manage.  It wasn't hard to do.  I just
let out what I was feeling and tried to show him what I wanted in
body language.

Steve put the big rubber bulb up to my pussy and touched it to
me, gently rubbing it up and down my slit to get it slick before
trying to push it in.  It felt wonderful, but it was unnecessary,
and I needed it inside, not out.

"Please don't tease me!  Give it to me!  I need something in my
pussy.  Please!"  I had started out doing this for Steve, but it
seemed that everything I thought of to say in play became true as
soon as the words were out of my mouth.  Steve had better hurry
up or I was going to talk myself past the point of no return very
quickly.

When I pretended to cry and humped my hips up to press against
the pacifier, he relented.  He squeezed the bulb down to a point
and pushed it through my opening.  When he let go, it sprang back
to full size again and snugged the plastic mouth-piece against
me.  The sudden feeling of having a void more than filled almost
made me cum.  My pussy closed around its toy and started playing
with it, squeezing it again and again, all on its own.  I thought
I must have been getting so much of a workout down there that my
pussy was developing some kind of reflex that made it constrict
around anything it could get hold of.

I kept my pussy exposed long enough for Steve to get a good look
at how grateful it was.  He seemed to be quite entertained by its
antics, turning his head this way and that to get a better look.
It really did feel like I was sucking on the pacifier, it must
have looked that way, too.

I lowered my skirt and settled it around my hips again, letting
my pussy continue to play with its toy.  Once the curtain had
come down on the show, Steve looked up into my eyes again.

"That may be the hottest thing I've ever seen," he said.

I grinned at him.  I could never get enough of that kind of
praise.  I sat up and took one of his hands in both of mine. 
Eager for more kind words, I waited to see what he would say
next.  

"How about a date?  I know that sounds odd, now; but we haven't
really had one yet."

He surprised me.  My answer sounded like I had reverted to being
nine years old again, "Oh, wow!  Sure!  When?"

"Friday?  Are you free then?"

Just in time, I kept myself from bouncing up and down with joy. 
I did my best to not to sound like a kid and after a few seconds
of being sure I was about to burst, a managed to utter a
dignified response.

"Well, that's the thing.   You know I'm sort of 'on call'."

He laughed.  "Yeah.  I know.  That's OK.  I'll take my chances. 
If you and Monique need to stick together, we can make it a
double-date with her and Jim."

That sounded like a wonderful idea to me.  Neeka agreed
immediately when I mentally asked her about it.  

"Dad won't be back until Saturday and Mom will be beside herself
waiting for him, so an excuse for me to get out of the house will
be a blessing," she told me.

She even felt sure she could speak for Jim.  

"Jim will come," she said, flatly.

That sounded like a great straight-line, but I suppressed the
urge to be a comedienne.

"Neeka says she and Jim would love to hang out with us," I told
Steve.

Steve got a funny look and his eyes darted to the dark corners of
the room. 

"Did you forget that Neeka and I are telepathic?" I said,
hesitantly.

"Ahh.  Right.  Of course."  He seemed embarrassed to have to have
it explained.  Then he got this look like he had just thought of
something.  "Uh, Sam?  Do you and Neeka do this mindreading thing
with each other all the time.  I mean, like..."

"Like while I'm enjoying sex with my favorite hunk?  Of course. 
Sharing is one of the perqs."

Steve looked like he had been caught on one of those TV shows
that trick people into embarrassing situations.  He wasn't at all
sure how to take having an invisible observer looking over his
shoulder.  I thought this was strange, because he hadn't been at
all shy about things when Doug and Roger were in the room with
us.  It must have been the possibility of being critiqued on his
performance that bothered him.

"So when we were...."

"Unhunh.  When we were trying to screw each other into the
ground, Neeka was right there in my head, enjoying it every bit
as much as I did.  When we're in range, she feels everything that
I feel.  And vice versa.  She thinks you're a great lover, too."
She hadn't actually said that, but Steve had no way of knowing
it.

She must have heard me thinking about her, because no sooner was
the fib out of my mouth than she turned it into the truth.

I laughed and told Steve, "She says SuperHeroine and SuperStud
belong together, but maybe you and Jim would like to trade girls
sometime, just for a change."  I said it jokingly, which wasn't
entirely the way she meant it.

Steve wasn't at all sure what to say to that.  Somewhere it was
engraved in stone that buddies didn't fool around with each
other's girls.  I was sure it didn't mean that guys didn't think
about it, but there was a pretty heavy taboo against doing it.

After deciding which would be the safer reply, Steve tried to be
diplomatic.

"Well, I certainly think Monique is very attractive and sexy and
all that, but you are too; and way more than I can handle,
besides."  It looked like Steve was having a hard time lying
credibly about his feelings on this subject.  His eyes wouldn't
meet mine and he suddenly couldn't sit still.

I blurted out something I probably shouldn't have.

"So, would you mind if Jim fucked me?"  As soon as I said it I
thought I had gone too far.  This was really putting Steve on the
spot, but we had stumbled into a subject that was a lot more
relevant than Mr. Wojeski knew and I didn't want to waste the
chance to find out if he would be terribly mad if he found out
that my home-life was...complicated.

"But he's your brother!  Oh, that's right.  He's not.  Not
really.  Gee, I never thought about it....  Um, well, I guess I
wouldn't mind...much."  He was looking at me like he sure hoped
that was the right answer, because he thought he was going to
catch hell for giving the wrong one.

I've never been able to shut up before I have followed an idea to
the end, and I never know when it's going to get me into big
trouble.  I asked, "Would it make you hot to watch Jim or Bud
fucking me?"

Steve looked like I had hit him smack between the eyes with one
of the dumbbells.  He was totally lost for an answer to my
question.  There was no middle ground that he could walk with
this one.  I watched him think about how to wriggle out of
answering for a bit, then he gave in and told me what sounded
like the truth.

"The idea sounds awful and seriously hot at the same time," he
said.  "I know you are just messing with my head, but that's how
I feel about it.  The more I think about it though, the more
interesting it sounds.  If it came to it, I'd probably enjoy it.
You can be as much fun to watch as a lot of girls are to fuck. 
Now let me mess with your head some.  How would you feel about
you, me, and Monique in bed together?"

Now there was an interesting question.  It kind of indirectly
answered my earlier one.

"I think that would be a lot of fun," I told him with a straight
face.  "What time is good for you?"

Steve chuckled.  He looked like he thought I was kidding.  I
wasn't.  He stopped chuckling.

"You serious?" He asked.  There was a faint note of hopefulness
in his voice.  So much for the 'don't screw a buddy's girl' rule.
 But I guess I had ruined that by asking the question.  Or maybe
there was a caveat about it being OK if your own girl was there
too.  He seemed to only balk at being in situations where there
were more guys than girls.

"You are not serious?" He asked again, more emphatically.  It
started as a declaration, but ended as a question.

"Don't forget how we got together," I told him.  "That was pretty
kinky, wasn't it?"

"Oh, yeah!  That was fun.  I didn't think any of you would go
through with it.  But you did.  You all enjoyed it, from what I
could tell."

"You did, too.  Four girls lined up in a row, begging for it in
broad daylight.  You didn't hesitate.  You were ready to go."

"Are you kidding?  I'd still be kicking myself ten years from now
if I'd passed that up!"

"So let's not hear any more 'I'm too straight-arrow for this
kinky stuff'.  OK?"

"All right.  You win.  Yes, it would turn me on to watch you
having sex with someone.  I'd probably be jealous, but not angry.
 Like I said, you are very hot to watch.  Maybe one day you will
do a video."

Without realizing it, he had neatly turned the tables on me.  I
shut my mouth quickly before it could fly open and blab that I
already had starred in the nastiest video no one should ever
see.

My poker face must have failed me.  Steve jumped straight to the
wrong answer, but the right conclusion.

"NO!  Is that what this is about?  Did you make a home video of
you and your brothers getting freaky with each other?  OK, I have
to see this.  Forget what I said about the idea being awful.  I
really want to see the vid!"

This hadn't gone at all like I wanted.  It served me right for
giving into the urge to mess with people's heads.  It served me
right for teasing Steve.  It was Justice with capital letters for
trying to seduce Steve into a foursome with Neeka and Jim.

Steve read the guilt on my face and knew there was really was a
video.  Could I now tell him he couldn't see it?  Could I lie to
him and say it didn't exist?  Could I take the chance and let him
watch it?  Why had I saved it from the fire if no one was ever
going to see it?  I was really torn between showing off my acting
talent and risking losing Steve because of what I did and what
was done to me in that barn.  I didn't even know how it looked to
the camera because I hadn't seen the darn thing myself yet.

"I need to warn you that this video is way past dirty.  Nasty
doesn't even begin to describe it.  This is some seriously
illegal stuff, or it would be, if...."   Is it really a snuff
film if you come back to life in the end?  Was I looking for some
way to rationalize letting him watch the darn thing?

"All right, stop building it up," he said.  "I told you, I want
to see it.  I have to see it.  It sounds great!  Does it have a
plot or is it just you screwing your brothers?"

"Jim and Bud are not in it!  It's just one scene, but there is a
lot that happens," I explained, trying to be vague.  I don't know
why I was telling him this much.  I hadn't decided if I was going
to let him see it.  Who was I kidding?  I had been looking for
some pretext for watching it since I snatched it out of the DVD
recorder.

"It's really raunchy," I said.  I was running out of ways to warn
him about what was on the disk.  "I'm tied up and they torture
me.  They, ah, do some other stuff to me, too."  Yeah, gang rape
and murder.  Did I really want anyone to see this?  Yes, I guess
I did.  Should I tell him that I die in the end?  Maybe I could
claim it was a special effect?  Technically that was the truth. 
Or was it?

"Don't spoil it for me!  Can you bring it with you on Friday?"

"I suppose."  My head was spinning so much from trying to decide
that giving in seemed the simplest thing to do.

"Good.  My cousin has an apartment over in Wildewood Estates.  He
lets me borrow it when he's out of town.  He's in Miami on
business until Sunday, so we can go over there."

That was a relief.  I wouldn't be risking Bambi walking in at
just the wrong moment.  I was sure she might be strong enough to
appreciate it, if it had been anyone but me in it.  I couldn't
chance her being in Mom-mode when the knife went in.  Bud might
still be too immature to deal with it, too.  Heck, I was almost
too young to be watching stuff like this and I was the star!

"Wildewood is a singles complex," I observed.  "I've heard
stories about parties and stuff.  Have you taken your other dates
over to your cousin's place?"

"Uh, yeah.  Some of them."

"Hmmm.  So this really is an official date."

"Yeah.   I guess it is.  I'm going to take you to a private
apartment where girls shrieking and running around naked is
normal and after we chat and watch some TV, I'm going to try to
get your clothes off and chase you around and make you shriek,
too.  Does that sound official enough for you?"

"Sounds pretty official, all right.  I can hardly wait."  

The four of us alone in an apartment sounded like just what I had
in mind in the beginning.  Maybe this wouldn't be the disaster a
small voice in the back of my head was warning me that it might
be.

The bell rang then to signal the end of the lunch period.  Steve
and I ran up to the front entrance of the Gym before anyone could
walk in and catch me in the wrong locker room.

"Friday.  I'll pick you up at 7, OK?" he said.  He seemed as
eager as I was to finally be going on a real date with me.

I nodded and smiled.  This was something we both had wanted to do
for days, but things kept getting in the way.  

Just as a bunch of girls and guys started up the steps, Steve
leaned over and kissed me right there in front of everyone.  It
was quick and he ran off immediately to get to his next class,
but it left me reeling.  I don't know if he had any reason for it
other than simple affection, but it sure had a lot of
possibilities attached to it.

As I walked through the crowd to get back to the main classroom
building, I could hear girls whispering.  He might as well have
given me his class ring, or had my name tattooed on his arm, or
spray-painted my name on the nearest highway overpass, or any
other of the usual ways that boys announced their interest in
girls.  This was as good as any of those, because gossip would
carry the news all over school by the end of the day.  It would
confirm any rumors that might have been circulating because Steve
and I had been seen together.

The significance of it to me was that it meant Steve had no
problem letting everyone know that we were involved.  Having
surreptitious sex in the Gym was fun, but very few people knew
about that and they all had reasons to keep quiet.  Kissing me in
public, even if it was barely more than a peck on the lips, was
almost like calling a press-conference and announcing that he was
hot for me.  As one of the local star athletes, he had to know
what it would mean when he did it, even if he were as thick as
people assumed all jocks were.  That meant he had to have done it
deliberately, or else he just didn't care who knew we were
together.  Either way, it gave me a warm feeling that enhanced
the freshly-fucked glow I already had.

My English class went by so quickly that I thought I must have
dozed off and slept through part of it.  When Mrs. Elliott
stopped me on the way out the door, I thought she was going to
scold me, but instead she complimented me on the last thesis
paper I had turned in.  She said the quality of my writing had
improved quite a bit in the last few weeks.  I didn't trust
myself to do any more than thank her for the kind words and I got
out of there as quickly as I could.  I couldn't tell Mrs. Elliott
that my writing had improved because I had been wasting some of
my study time each day working on a diary that was full of lurid
descriptions of my sex life, as well as containing many of my
secrets that really should never have been written down.  Right
now, I'm not comfortable with anyone knowing there is such a
document.

I've avoided talking about this before now, because I felt that
writing about what you are writing while you are writing it fucks
up the narrative flow and is as confusing to your reader as this
sentence is turning out to be.  Mrs. Elliott taught me to look at
the papers I wrote from a detached point of view and I have tried
to do that here, too.  So, if you want to skip over the next few
paragraphs to get back to the action, go ahead.

Looking back over the rather large number of words that I have,
so far, managed to pour into this, I realize that somewhere along
the way this 'my story' thing took on a life of its own.  It's
probably way too long and has too many digressions and lectures
and opinions to be readable, even though I did go back and delete
almost all of the rants that I went off on along the way.  Heavy
use of the delete key has improved it considerably, in my humble
opinion.  Nobody needed to read that load of crud, least of all
me.  It felt good to get it out of my system, though. 

Since I am the only person I ever expect to be reading this, I
guess in a way this is just a long letter to some future me. 
Trouble is, I haven't figured out what I need to tell me later in
life.  (Hi, there!  Love ya!)  I have no wisdom to pass along.  I
assume that the version of me that may one day go back and read
this will be much wiser than I am now at eighteen.  The only
thing I can offer is a record of what my life is like and how I
feel about it.  Perhaps some day I will look back and feel
nostalgic about this time.  I don't know.

If somehow this gets into the hands of someone else, please don't
criticize the plot.  That is one big advantage that the fiction
writers have over us poor diarists   they can arrange events to
fit the form.  All I can do is to write what happened in more or
less the order it came about.  I plan to keep on doing that, so
SFPLLLLT!  (How do you write a raspberry, anyway?)

As for the large amount of detail I lavish on describing my sex
life; well, sex is sort of my favorite hobby.  I have a lot of
fun doing it and especially trying different things and I hope
that some day I will read this and be able to relive all the fun
I had.  That's justification enough for all this, I think.  I had
fun doing it and writing about it, so maybe one day I will
appreciate being able to experience it again.  So here's to you,
Sam.  Enjoy.  Now back to the rest of my day.



Gym class was something new.  Coach had us dress-out and sit on
the mats we usually used for tumbling.  She introduced a small
man wearing black pajamas as Mr. Morris and told us that he would
be teaching us some self-defense moves.

Mr. Morris explained that he was an expert in Judo and that what
he was going to show us was strictly defensive and should be used
only as a last resort in situations where we couldn't run away. 
I wondered if Sue had got the idea for inviting him to visit the
class from me, or if it was something she had arranged in
response to a concern for someone else in the class.  She had
mentioned something before that had made me wonder if one if my
classmates might be having problems, but she had only referred to
it once.  I thought perhaps it was something she had been told in
confidence and this was the best she could do to help the
situation.

After the usual warnings about warming up and stretching, Mr.
Morris offered to demonstrate a throw for us.  From the way he
said it, I figured this would be something flashy, to get our
attention and keep it while he taught us something simpler and
more useful.  When Coach whispered something to him, he looked at
me and waved to me to join him and I knew I had been set up.  I
couldn't be mad at Coach for singling me out; after all, she knew
that, of all the girls in the class, I was the one who she could
be sure wouldn't suffer any accidental injury while participating
in Mr. Morris' demonstration.   I could hardly blame her for
making a smart decision, so I stepped out and faced Morris on the
mat.

Morris was the short and wiry type.  He was only about 5' 5", so
he wasn't all that much taller than me.  He didn't have Master
Li's presence or his statue-like control, but from the way he
stood with his center of gravity always directly over the balls
of his feet, I knew he would be almost impossible to catch
off-balance.

He explained that he was going to show us a hip and shoulder
throw that was a favorite move of the movies, but was rarely used
in a real situation.  He walked me through it step by step, so I
wouldn't be surprised and do the wrong thing and get hurt.

"Just relax, and go with it, and you'll be fine, Sam," he said.

"OK," I told him, smiling a devilish grin.  A scene from one of
those Hong Kong-made martial arts films flashed through my head.
It was the one where the various fighters have a tournament to
see who has the best technique.  It was full of funny lines like
"my Kung Fu is stronger than yours" that were even funnier for
being totally out of sync with the lips of the actor.  I could
hardly claim to be an expert in Kung Fu after only one lesson,
but this was a good chance to compare what Mr. Morris did to what
Master Li had taught us.

After the walkthrough, he came at me full speed, and before I
knew it, he had a grip on my arm and I was rolling over his hip
and across his shoulder and into the air.

Anyone else should have ended up on their face on the mat.  That
was the end position as he had explained it.  But as soon as my
feet left the ground, my reflexes took over and I curled into a
ball and rotated so that I landed on my feet facing him.

Mr. Morris seemed surprised; he cocked his head a little and gave
me a brief nod of acknowledgement for having countered his
throw.

"Very good," he said.  "You have excellent kinesthetic reflexes."
 He looked at me critically.  With my figure, I could hardly have
been a member of the gymnastics team.

"I used to be into Cheerleading," I explained.  "We did a lot of
tumbling and cartwheels and stuff." 

"Of course," he said.  "All right, would you mind helping me some
more with the demonstration?  I was going to have your teacher do
this, but...."

"I'd be happy to," I said.

"All right, I'd like to show the class how a simple move can be
effective against an attacker.  Please come at me as if you are
going to grab me by the throat.  Don't worry about hurting me;
just do your best to grab me."

Morris was really asking for it and it was a great temptation to
give it to him.  I hadn't really had a chance to work with
someone who knew how to fight, and the appeal of trying him out
was almost overpowering.

He assumed his defensive stance and waited for my attack.  His
hands were away from his body and he was on the balls of his
feet.

I stood straight and gave him a short courtesy bow before taking
the stance Master Li had taught us.  My hands were high and low,
and lined up in the posture we had practiced.

Morris' eyes got that, "Uh oh!" look, like he thought he might
have just bitten off more than he could chew, but he waved at me
to go ahead anyway.

I shuffled forward quickly, swapping hand positions and feinting
with my left and striking out with my right to try to grab the
lapel of his pajama jacket.  Morris turned his body so my grab
missed by a couple of inches and faster than I expected, grabbed
my arm while it was still extended.  Before he could do anything
with his hold, I swept my arm around under his, forcing him to
let go.  I snapped back into my stance and waited to see what he
would do.

Morris stepped back and said, "A ringer!  Sue, you set me up. 
This girl has been studying Kung Fu.  I recognize the style."

At least he didn't mention which style, and for that I counted
myself lucky.

"Sorry, Charles.  I thought it would be better if you did your
demonstration with someone who had some experience."

"Sure.  She just surprised me.  OK, Sam, let's try that again."

"Full speed?" I asked.

Morris' hesitation was just long enough to be noticeable. 
"Sure," he said, and took his stance again.

I snapped into position and shuffled forward on the attack. 
Morris kicked at my leading foot, trying to hook me off balance.
I picked it up and threw him a forward kick, which made him
retreat a step.  When I tried to follow up with a palm-strike to
his stomach, he tried to grab my arm again, but I snapped it back
and dropped to my hands and threw my own version of a sweep-kick
at his legs.

He jumped to avoid it, but forward, not back.  As I stood up
again, he got behind me and got his arm across my chest.  I knew
what would happen next - he would pivot me over his hip and I
would land on my butt on the mat.

I should have let it go that way, but pride intervened.  I leaned
forward against his arm and shoved with my legs, yanking him off
his feet and throwing him over my shoulder.  As soon as I did it,
I regretted it.  Using my strength in this encounter, even
without applying any power behind it, was cheating.

Fortunately, Morris recovered beautifully, rolling to his feet
and coming back at me fast, his hands windmilling through the
air.  Before I could think of how to defend myself, he grabbed my
left arm with his right and blocked across my chest with his left
elbow pushing me off balance.  I had nowhere to go but down and I
did so very ungracefully, landing on my ass with a thump.

Morris backed away and dropped out of his stance, signaling the
end of the brief contest.

I got to my feet rubbing my rear, but it was only my pride that
hurt.  Obviously, I needed more lessons.  My Kung Fu was not yet
strong, even if I was.

Morris bowed to me and I bowed back.  The class broke into
spontaneous applause.

I was about to turn and applaud Mr. Morris too, when I heard
Abbie call out "Way to go, Sam!" and a couple of other voices
echoed hers.  I realized that the class wasn't applauding Morris,
they were applauding me.  By my reckoning, Morris had won, but
the fact that I had held my own for even a few seconds against a
professional like Morris was enough to make me the victor in
their eyes.

When I turned back to Mr. Morris with an apology on my lips, I
saw that he was applauding me, too.  I looked at Coach, but she
only shrugged and smiled.  I had to admit that from her point of
view, the demonstration had gone better than planned.  She now
had a group of girls who knew it was possible for someone with a
little training to fight back effectively against an attacker. 
This was an outcome that was much superior to a class that knew a
couple of moves, but might be too afraid to use them.

I was happy, too.  I had managed to keep from using my power, and
even though I had slipped and exerted more strength than a girl
my size should possess, I had been in control the whole time. 
After all that, I wasn't even breathing hard.

I returned to my place with the class amid a flurry of pats and
hugs.  Mr. Morris asked for another volunteer to be shown the
move he had started to teach me and almost every hand went up.

As another girl went up front of the group, I felt someone's
breath on the side of my neck, followed by a kiss on my cheek.  I
turned around to see who it was, expecting to see Polly or Abbie.
 Instead, it was Dina McClesky, the smart girl from my Algebra
class.

I reached back to give Dina a pat on the knee, but she was
scooting up to sit beside me, so I waited until she was even with
me and I gave her a hug instead.  I was happy to be able to share
some of the solidarity with her.  We smart girls needed to stick
together.

"That was very impressive," she whispered.  

Somehow her hand found mine and she squeezed it.  I squeezed
back, companionably, happy to have her indicate her willingness
to get closer to me.  You can never have too many friends.  When
her grip didn't slacken after that, a small bell went off in the
back of my brain and I wondered if Dina hadn't been trying to
communicate something other than her appreciation for showing the
class that you could stand up for yourself in the face of
physical danger.  Or maybe that was the reason, but it had more
significance for Dina than it did for the rest of the class.

I glanced at Coach Simpson.  She was staring at me with an
intense expression that could have meant the lunch entre wasn't
agreeing with her, or it could mean that she was trying to send
me a message about Dina being the girl who was in danger.

I wracked my brain for what little I knew about Dina McClesky. 
Perpetual Honor Roll member, shoo-in for Beta Club membership in
her Junior year, quiet, no known boyfriends   at least none known
to me.  She was one of those smart girls for whom schoolwork
seemed to be everything.  Usually that is the sort who also have
perfect attendance records, as well, but I remembered several
times this year when she had been missing from our Algebra class.
 She didn't seem the sickly type to me.  Except for the glasses
she wore   when contact lenses were the universal choice for teen
girls whose eyes needed help   and a slight tendency to stoop,
she was a pretty, brown-haired, hazel-eyed girl.

When glanced back at Dina, she was also looking at me with a
similar intense gaze and I wondered how long I had been missing
all these signals that Dina wanted someone to help her.

The time to kick my own butt would have to come later.  I looked
back at Coach and when I had her eye, I nodded.  I stuck up my
hand in the time-honored signal for a restroom break and she
nodded back, acknowledging both messages.  I tugged at Dina's
hand to get her to follow me and we crawled through the group to
the edge of the mat and then made our way out of the big room and
down the hall to Coach's office.

As soon as we were out of sight of the others, Dina's hand found
mine again and she hung on with a grip that seemed born of
desperation, but was presently fueled by hope.  I shut the door
behind us and pulled Dina over to sit with me on the small couch
opposite the desk.  Sitting down negated much of the six inches
of difference in our heights and made it easier to talk.

I tossed tact aside and got right to the subject.  "What's wrong,
Dina?  What's the matter?" I asked.  I put out a hand, intending
to touch her arm in a comforting manner.  She needed more than
that.  She lunged at me and wrapped her arms around me, hugging
me tightly and pressing her face into my neck as she began to
cry.

While she cried, she sobbed out her problem.  It came out
haltingly, in bits and pieces, but when I had them all assembled
in the right order, it made a picture that turned my stomach.

Dina's father had died in a construction site accident several
months ago.  I remembered hearing about it at the time.  The poor
man had been buried alive when a trench he was working in caved
in on top of him.  Despite heroic efforts by his co-workers and
the paramedics, he died before they got him to the hospital.

Her mother's younger brother had moved in with them after that. 
The insurance money was being delayed on some technicality and
the family needed a breadwinner if Dina and her mother were to
keep their house.  Being gainfully employed, single, and Family,
her uncle Greg was asked to help, and had generously agreed to
give up his own apartment to move in with them and help them
out.

Everything had started out OK.  Greg had been a frequent visitor
to their house before his brother-in-law's death, and he had
seemed to be very fond of Dina, he even played a game with her,
grabbing her and tickling her until she couldn't breathe.  Dina's
parents had thought this was terribly cute, even if Dina had
doubts about it being really appropriate behavior for a man who
was less than ten years older than she was.  

They all got along fine for the first few months.  Her mother had
found work as a receptionist in an office downtown, but the pay
wasn't much and the hours meant that Dina and Greg were at home
together for several hours each day and much of the weekend.  

It had only been in recent weeks that the trouble had started. 
It seemed like accidental things at first   Greg leaving his
bedroom door open while he dressed and Dina seeing him naked as
she walked by.  Greg happening to step into the hall just as she
came out of the bathroom after her shower wearing a towel.  Greg
sitting in the living room, watching TV and drinking beer in his
underwear, with an obvious erection trying to escape from his
briefs, and making no effort to hide it when his niece walked
into the room. 

Dina had tried to talk to her mother about her uncle, but her
mother passed it off as just her brother being used to a
bachelor's life and told her to try to make allowances, and that
she should go out of her way to show her appreciation for his
helping them out like this. 

It had progressed to him walking in on her in the bathroom.  Even
though she made sure to shut the door as an indication that she
wanted privacy, he still barged in whenever he wanted and would
stand and urinate into the toilet with her right there next to
him.  His excuse for this was that she took too much time in
their one bathroom and "when a guy's gotta go, a guy's gotta
go!"

Things had gone as far as Uncle Greg telling her that since he
was paying the bulk of the bills now, that he expected certain
favors from Dina in return.  Sexual favors, as it turned out,
meaning a blow job every afternoon before her mother got home
from work and almost any other time she was out of the house.  

The alternative to meeting his demands would be for him to move
out, forcing Dina and her mother to lose their house, which he
said would mean that they would have to resort to whoring
themselves on the street for money, since Dina's mother was
unskilled and her job didn't pay a living wage.

Dina had given in to Greg.  Whenever he wanted, she had sucked
his cock as well as she could, even following his instructions to
be sure to swallow the evidence each time.  He even checked her
mouth to be sure she had done so.  She had resigned herself to
doing this chore for her uncle as her part of the payment for
having a roof over her head.  At first it disgusted her, but as
she got used to it and then got better at it, she began to think
of it as an opportunity to learn how to make a potential
boyfriend happy.  'Potential' because she apparently wasn't
dating anyone.

Although she didn't say so, I also got the impression that she
had started to enjoy it, too.  Her descriptions of the
'disgusting' act were just a little too graphic and detailed
about her uncle's cock and how big it was and how it felt and
tasted and how quickly it was all over, just when she was about
to try some new variation on her technique.

The real crisis for Dina had come ten days ago.  While she was
doing her duty and orally servicing her uncle's cock, he asked
her if she was a virgin, which she was.  Then he told her that he
thought she would look very pretty sitting on his lap with his
cock in her cunt.  He told her that she wasn't that good a
cocksucker and that if she wanted to keep off the streets, she
was going to have to find another way to keep him happy.

For Dina, this was much worse than the oral sex that she had been
coerced into performing.  She was terrified that Greg would get
her pregnant   something he had apparently mentioned in a way
that made her think he considered it a desirable outcome   and
that would mean she would have to quit school, or at least lose
any chance at going to college after graduation.  Being turned
into a sex slave in her own home was apparently something she
could accept, maybe even learn to like, but to have her future
taken away because of some incestuous fantasy of her uncle's was
the worst thing that could happen to a girl who knew that her
education was her only chance at having a good life.

I knew she hadn't been this forthcoming with Coach Simpson about
what was happening to her at home.  If she had, Coach would have
had no choice but to report it officially and Uncle Greg would
now be behind bars and Dina and her mother would be up the creek
without a paddle.  Involving the police in what could only be
described as incest would solve just one part of the problem.

The irony was that by confiding this to me, Dina had in fact
informed The Authorities about her problem.  My badge made me a
Law Enforcement Officer and I was going to have to do something
about this situation personally or else pass it along to someone
who would apply the letter of the law to it.

I smiled as I reflected that being the 'spirit', rather than the
'letter' of the law was just the sort of thing I was best
qualified to do.  I could have a word with Uncle Greg and see if
I could reason with him.   I hoped his health insurance was paid
up.  He might be drawing on it soon.

"Dina, listen to me," I said, gently prying her off me enough so
that I could look into her eyes.  "I think I can help you.  Or I
know someone who can help, anyway," I told her, amending my claim
to distance my real identity from something I might have to do
later in my other persona.   If I kept this up, I was going to be
flirting with a split-personality disorder.

Her tears had mostly stopped by now, but she was still clinging
to me like she very badly needed a warm embrace and a kind voice.
 The news that help would be forthcoming almost set her off
crying again, but I summoned my maternal instincts and kissed the
drops from her cheeks.  She calmed down some then, but nestled
back against me with her head even lower on my chest, somehow
getting one hand under my top where it cupped my breast.

I tried to keep a cool head while Dina's warm hand made my nipple
swell.  I tugged on my top see if I could alert her to the fact
that she was fondling me without risking embarrassing her and
possibly setting her off on another crying jag.

Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect.  Dina pushed my top up
with one hand, exposing my nipple and before I knew what was
happening, she had latched onto it with her mouth and started to
suckle.

The feeling of warmth and love that flooded through me at having
Dina revert to babyhood in my arms was intoxicating.  I had
nursed before, but never someone who needed comforting so badly.
The element of need made the experience a totally different one.

There was no question of getting her to stop.  No consideration
for time or that the door wasn't locked and anyone might walk in
on us.  I was committed to this until Dina decided that she was
over her emotional crisis and didn't need me to comfort her any
longer.

Almost as soon as she had my nipple in her mouth, my glands
kicked in and milk began to flow.  At her first taste of it, Dina
made a happy little sound and curled up with her head in my lap,
feeding steadily.  I cradled her head as best I could so her neck
wasn't at an awkward angle and I stroked her hair.  After a
moment, I found myself humming to her.  It was a moment of bliss
that I wanted to cherish for as long as it lasted.

While I nursed Dina, I thought about how this maternal act
clarified my feelings and my motivation for going into my
profession.  Here I was, providing the epitome of comfort to
someone who desperately needed it.  My reward for this wasn't
something I would ever be able to adequately describe.  It was a
bonding, a sharing, a merging with someone at a physical as well
as spiritual level.  From now on, Dina and I would be connected
by this moment.  Although physically my peer; from now on Dina
would be partly my child.

That epiphany settled my mind about how I would view those people
I helped.  If I defended them; if I saved them or gave them aid
or comfort; it would be the same as nursing them and they would
become my children.  This concept of symbolically adopting those
who needed my help meant that I would look at things with
maternal eyes from now on.  Those who created problems needed to
be chastised and their behavior corrected.  Their victims needed
comfort and support.  If I had to hurt someone to get them to
stop an antisocial behavior, I wasn't a vigilante running amok, I
was a mother administering a needed spanking to get the attention
of an unruly child.  This put me much more at ease with my moral
grounds for breaking bones.  If I acted with a 'this is for your
own good' approach, and tried to comfort and console wherever
possible along the way, my conscience would be clear and I could
stop worrying about whether I was abusing my abilities or
overstepping any moral or ethical boundaries.

I reviewed my actions during my recent adventures and I was
pleased to find that wherever possible, I had acted in a manner
that was consistent with this philosophy.  I had mostly been
doing the right thing all along, I just hadn't understood why.

The rhythmic sucking on my nipple stopped and Dina opened her
eyes and looked up at me.  She detached herself from my breast
with a trickle of milk running off her chin.  It was a terribly
cute sight.

Dina lifted her head and jerked it away from me with an
embarrassed flush rising to her face.  She started to stammer an
apology but I stopped her before she could begin.

"Hush!  It's all right.  Everything is all right.  You're fine. 
Just relax."  

I kept stroking her hair and wiped the milk off her chin with my
thumb.  She untensed, but didn't go back to feeding.  I took the
opportunity to switch her to the other breast.

Dina looked at the nipple I offered her as though she had never
seen one before.  I expressed a few drops of milk onto my finger
and wiped it across her lips.  She licked it off immediately and
I marveled at having just done something that nursing mothers
must have done instinctively since the dawn of the human race.  I
hadn't felt so human in a long time.

"Go ahead," I told her when she still hesitated.  "You don't want
to leave me lopsided, do you?"

Dina self-consciously put her lips around my nipple and looked up
into my eyes as she started to suck.  Doing it deliberately made
her clumsy at first, but then instinct took over and she latched
on firmly and went back to feeding.

This time, she was aware of what she was doing.  I could see in
her eyes that she was enjoying it, but now that she was over her
outburst she felt uncomfortable about having her mouth on the
breast of a classmate, and a relative stranger as well.  It
didn't seem to affect her appetite, though.  She kept on sucking
and swallowing until she had had her fill and she let go.

"Feeling better?" I asked as she stared at the nipple she had
just been sucking.  There was a drop of milk left and she licked
it off rather than see it go to waste.

"I feel like I've eaten a whole quart of ice cream," she said,
still lying comfortably in my lap.  She stared at my breasts and
asked herself if she had really just done what she thought she
had.

"What flavor?" I asked.

The question seemed to puzzle her for a second.  "French
Vanilla," she said.

"There seems to be a split of opinion between that and Butter
Pecan," I said.  "But without the nuts, of course."

"Of course," she echoed.  Then she laughed.  "I'm sorry.  This is
weird."

"No it's not," I said confidently.  "It would be hard to think of
something more natural."

"You're not uncomfortable with this..." she said, unable to
describe the situation.

"No.  In fact, I'm very comfortable with it.  Are you sure you've
had enough?  There is plenty more where that came from.  Or I can
just rock you for a bit, if you'd like."

"Just hold me like this, please.  I haven't felt this good in
weeks.  Or longer."

I pulled her back against my breast and she went back on my
nipple by reflex.  I felt her tonguing it and then she just
settled back with it between her lips.  Every few seconds she
would give it a suck and then roll it idly between her lips.

After a couple of minutes, she said, "You really don't mind
this?"

"Really," I assured her.  "I'm enjoying it as much as you are."

"That's good, because I was going to ask you if you wouldn't mind
if we did this again sometime.  I feel so warm and safe and happy
right now that I couldn't stand the thought of never feeling this
way again."

"Whenever you need me, I'll be there for you," I assured her. 
This maternal thing was becoming easier for me all the time.

"You're wonderful," she told me.  "This is just what I needed."

She sat up and looked at my breasts.  She put out her hand and
felt the closest one.  She seemed fascinated that mine actually
worked and that I didn't seem to mind her playing with them.

"Can you really help me?" she asked, flipping my rings up and
down.  It was making me crazy, but I wasn't about to tell her to
stop.

"Where does Greg work and what time does he get home?" I asked,
moving on to practical matters.  I didn't want to have to invent
any lies to tell Dina, so it was best if I avoided her
questions.

She gave me all the details I needed to know.  I got her to
promise to go to the library and stay there for at least two
hours after school before going home. That should give me plenty
of time to 'reason' with him and make sure the ambulance was gone
before Dina got home.

Dina finally got bored with my rings and I pulled my top back
down to signal that playtime was over.  She continued to stare at
me like she had never seen anything like me before in her life.

"What?" I asked, unable to stand the suspense.

"I'm sorry.  I'm just feeling something that I can't put into
words.  This is going to sound really weird, but I think I love
you."

"I love you too, dear."  I said it without thinking, without
pausing.  It was what you said to a child to reassure her that
you would always be there for her.

Dina beamed happily.  She looked like a toddler, full of
unalloyed joy; or maybe that was just my new perspective on
things.  Whichever, she was a different person than she had been
just thirty minutes earlier.

The office door opened and Coach Simpson stuck her head in.

"Everything all right?" she asked.

"We're fine," I told her.  "Everything is going to be OK now."

"That's good," Coach said.  She didn't press for details and I
didn't have to evade her questions.  I had the impression that
she might have deduced more about Dina's situation than she had
been told, and she had been anxious about asking someone to help
for fear of violating a confidence.  

"The period is almost over.  You two had better get dressed."

Dina bounced off the couch and practically skipped out the door
and down the hall.  Coach held out her hand to keep me from
following, but I had already assumed that she would want to have
a private work with me, or vice versa.

"I saw you on TV yesterday," Coach said.  

That covered a lot of ground very quickly.   I reflected that she
hadn't had to do any higher math than 1+1 to figure out the
identity of the small green-grey figure that had killed the Main
Battle Tank.  She had already seen what I could do to the
standard Detroit product.  Come to think of it, I had shown her
my makeup, too.

"What can I say?  The camera loves me!"  I was giddy and happy. 
Dina's playfulness had rubbed off on me, too. 

"You are amazing."

"Stop, you'll turn my head."

"What did you do to Dina?  She's like a different person."

"I cuddled her and gave her some dessert.  She's just having a
hyperglycemic fugue," I said in a fit of brilliance.  "But she
feels better now.  I told her I knew someone who could fix her
problem."

"I bet you do!"  My medical explanation must have thrown her a
bit.  She didn't ask what I fed Dina.

"Trust me.  You don't want to know what that girl has been
putting up with at home."

"Must be worse than I thought, then."  She seemed relieved that
Dina hadn't told her everything

"Let's just say I'm going to enjoy this," I said through my best
Evil Grin.

"You're right.  I don't want to know."

"You should be ashamed of yourself, setting me up with Mr.
Morris," I said, changing the subject.

"I did that before I knew.  Sorry.  Who should I have warned? 
'Ed, this girl might rip you in half.'  'Sam, please don't hurt
the Judo Master.'"

"You're right.  But it worked out anyway."  A flash of
inspiration hit me.  "Did Ed hit on you?"

"How did you know?"

"He seems like your type   handsome, fit, confident."

"Maybe I'm not his type."

"Let's see.  Gorgeous and built like a Greek Goddess?  You're
everybody's type.  You quit wearing a bra, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did.  I tried to put one on after walking around without
one for so long and I couldn't stand it.  Does it show?"

 "Beautifully."

"That's not what I meant."

"OK, under that t-shirt?  Yes.  Do mine show?"

"Ha!  Of course!"

"Why 'of course'?"

"Well...ah, you are so much more...."

"My tits are bigger?"

"Crudely put, but accurate.  But you carry them so well."

"That sounds like a compliment for Quasimodo:  'Does he have a
hump?'  'Yes, but he carries it so well!'"

"That's not what I meant!"

"I know, I couldn't resist."

"Sam, there are busty girls; there are girls with large breasts;
there are girls with huge knockers; and then there's you."

"So I'm in a class by myself."

"I think that is completely accurate," she laughed.  I saw the
joke immediately.

"Oops, I walked into that one."

"Why are you worried about this, Sam?  Your figure is stunning. 
Your bustline is large, but you have the personality to match
it."

"Gee, I dunno.  Why are you?"

"Hunh?  Well, I...."

"Gotcha!  Sue, it's mind over matter."

"'If you don't mind, it don't matter.'  Yes, I've heard that one.
 I guess I just don't have the self-image that goes with this
body.  I look in the mirror and I expect to see what I looked
like when I was 16."

"You need to look in the mirror more.  Preferably with your
clothes off."

"You think that will help my self-image."

"No, but it will boost ticket sales at the peephole I've cut in
your wall."

"You goof!  I love talking to you.  It's like I haven't aged a
day since I was your age."

"You haven't.  You just got better looking.  Now deal with it. 
Did you agree to go out with Ed Morris?"

"Yes.  He's taking me out to a supper club this Friday.  I don't
know what I'll wear."

"As little as possible."

"I knew you were going to say that."

"Sorry, but you've sentenced yourself to years of
community-service.  Get out there and show them what 'hard-body'
means."

"All right.  I will.  Maybe I'll find out if Ed's body can live
up to his mouth."

"Bragger, hunh?"

"He made some promises about what he could do for me."

"Really?"

"Nothing you haven't already done, by the way."

"I told you, find a big one.  They're better."

"I'm looking.  But remember, anything is going to be big to me. 
Maybe I should start small and work my way up."

"That's one approach.  I'm jealous, by the way."

"Of me, why?"

"You have no idea how good you're going to feel."

"It's that good?"

"Oh, yeah."

"I'd love for you to tell me all about it, but you'd better run.
It's time for the bell."

I gave Sue a hug and a quick kiss and ran for the locker room. 
It had been the most relaxed Gym class I had had in some time, so
I didn't need a shower.  I just changed clothes and ran for Math.
 I was there right on time.  It's remarkable how punctual you can
be if you wear the minimum amount of clothing and you don't have
to spend forever touching up your make-up.

Math was a stultifying rehash of everything I already knew in
preparation for a quiz that I could have passed the week before.
I wondered if I wasn't overdoing the studying.  Who was I
kidding?  I was hooked.  I didn't know what I was someday going
to need to know   I could only guess at a few things that I
wouldn't   and I soaked everything up like a sponge.  It had
become a compulsion.  I was ahead in every textbook I had, even
with those nights that I hadn't been able to study.  

I had a pile of library books that I had checked out and whizzed
through so quickly that I was ashamed to take them all back so
soon.  I had found a few instances where the books disagreed with
each other on matters of verifiable fact, which meant that some
of them were wrong.

The idea that books, especially textbooks, could be wrong shocked
me.  The things they were wrong about were things that could  
and should   have been checked before the book was printed.  If I
hadn't been looking for better explanations of things that I was
fuzzy on, I never would have discovered the discrepancies.  Even
scarier was that none of my teachers had pointed out the errors
when we went over that material.

I had wrestled with whether I should bring this up in class,
point it out to my teacher in private, or just keep my mouth shut
and let the class learn things that were wrong, but would help
them pass the tests that must be equally wrong, because they were
based on the misinformation in the books.  I still hadn't made up
my mind about what to do.  Was I being overly critical?  In the
long term, did it matter all that much that some bad data got
into the system?  Surely these mistakes would be unlearned at
some point, probably there would be a course in College on Stuff
Your High School Textbooks Got Wrong 101. 

Math was the one exception to this.  Because everything in a Math
book can be checked by your own calculations   that is the point,
after all   there is less chance of errors going undetected past
the first printing.  The first time someone checked their answer
against the book and found it different, the jig would be up.

I like Math because it is so beautiful and clean and pure.  I
used to hate it.  I don't remember why.  I suppose because it
used to be hard before I took the time to understand it.  There
is something profound in that.  I'll work on digging it out
later.



After school, Neeka and I met at her car.  She already knew where
we were going and why, of course.

"Are you sure you want to do it this way?" she asked.  "Remember
what happened last night when you went out in the buff?"

"Vividly.  Thank you.  But this is essential to the effect.  I
want to reinforce the message with a little aversion therapy."

"It's your skin."

"Very funny."



I wouldn't say that Dina's house was in a bad part of town, but
it was on the border between 'don't go there at night' and 'don't
go there at all'.  I wanted to believe that if she were forced to
leave there, she would get to go to a better neighborhood, but I
couldn't justify taking that chance.  I was here to make it
possible for her to stay and not be molested by the man who was
supposed to be making that happen.

Neeka's car was dusty enough and old enough to fit right in.  She
parked a half-block away and I walked back to the house, trying
to look like just another schoolgirl coming home, dragging her
bag of books.

I walked up the short driveway to Dina's house and around to the
side door.  The key was in the flowerpot, right where she said it
would be.  I let myself in, replaced the key, and went looking
for Dina's room.

I had no trouble finding it.  It was small, cramped, and crowded
with all her stuff.  It looked almost exactly like my room did
when I lived with Yvette.  The closet in my bedroom now was
larger than Dina's whole room.

I had to take a minute to remember what it was like before I went
to live with Mrs. Reynolds and then I tried to remember if I had
told her how much I loved her before I left for school. 

When I got the nostalgia out of my system, I closed the blinds
and shut the curtains as far as they would go to make the room as
dark as possible.  I got out of my clothes and stashed them and
my bag behind a chair in the main room.  I crawled into Dina's
bed, arranging the sheets so one naked leg was poking out in
clear view of the door.  Then I settled down to wait for Uncle
Greg.

It wasn't a long wait.  Within fifteen minutes, I heard Greg's
pickup wheeze to a stop out front.   The door slammed and he came
in the same way I had.

I heard him come down the short hallway and stop to peer into the
darkened room.  I knew he had seen my leg when I heard him go,
"Mmmm.  Lazy bitch is taking a nap after a hard day of school."

After a series of thumps that I assumed to be his boots and
workbelt hitting the floor, followed by the bedroom door being
closed, I felt a hand on my leg, sliding up the inside of my
thigh.  He groped me all the way up to my groin before he grabbed
my leg and shook it, saying, "Come on darlin' time to pay the
rent.  Get that sweet mouth over here and suck my cock before I
decide to give you that fucking I know you're craving.  Shit,
maybe I'll just fuck you anyway and pump a load of baby-juice
into you.  How'd that be?  I'd just love to see you waddling
around with your belly and tits all swoll-up."

When I didn't move, he did what I expected.  He yanked the covers
off of me. 

It wasn't the climax I expected.  I had made the room dark so
that he wouldn't immediately know I wasn't Dina, but with the
blinds closed and my dark skin pigment, he wouldn't be able to
see me clearly until his eyes adjusted to the low light.  I used
the time to extend my scaly skin-job down the one leg that I had
deliberately left a natural flesh tone and to check out Uncle
Greg.

From the filthy t-shirt that was all he had on at the moment, and
the pile of dirt-caked clothes behind him on the floor, I figured
that Greg worked in construction, like his late brother-in-law. 
His job must not involve a lot of heavy lifting, because his
chest and arms were downright skinny.  The only bulge on him was
the paunchy start of a beer-belly that would eventually shade the
cock that he held in his right hand.

While my experience with cocks was limited, and somewhat biased
by what I knew were a couple of extraordinary specimens, I
thought that Greg's must be on the small end of the scale. 
Instead of fisting it with his whole hand as I had seen Bud do,
and as I had enjoyed helping him with both of my small hands
wrapped around his magnificent shaft, Greg was only able to wrap
his thumb and middle finger around what I saw was a fully-erect
organ.  It looked so tiny that I wondered if his threats to make
Dina pregnant had even been realistic, or if they were just part
of his warped fantasy/power-trip.

Rather than stare at his disappointingly small equipment, I
watched Greg's eyes.   I could see the pupils dilate when they
were able to finally focus on what was in his niece's bed.  Where
he had expected to find a helpless, cowed young girl, instead he
discovered his worst nightmare.

"FUCK!" he screamed, in voice that broke in mid-syllable.  He
turned to run out of the room, but I had anticipated that and I
was right behind him and pushed him in the small of the back,
slamming him into the door before he could pull it open.  He
bounced back and clawed for the doorknob.  I tapped him lightly
just under each kidney and he made a retching sound and slumped
to his knees, falling forward with his face against the door. 
All the fight was drained right out of him.  I took his arm and
dragged him back to the bed, where I picked him up and tossed him
like a rag-doll onto the mattress.

"Noooo!" he managed to moan through clenched teeth.

I climbed on top of him, straddling his legs and looking down at
him.  The light from the partly-open curtains made my scaly green
skin clearly visible to him in the dim light of the room.  He
looked up at the hideous monster pinning him to the bed and his
expression was of such absolute fear that it was almost piteous.
Dina had told me that he spent most of his free time on his butt
in front of the TV, so I was pretty sure he had caught my
appearance on the tube and he knew just who I was and what I
could do.  

To make things even more personal for Greg, I forced his legs
apart so I could get to them, then I reached out to grab his
balls.  He was very quick to cover them, and his poor excuse for
a cock, with his hands.

"Take your hands away or I will break every one of your fingers,"
I told him.

He considered for a moment and then snatched his hands away,
folding them like a mantis on his chest.  I put one hand under
his ball-sack and cradled the fruit of his manhood.  I had
planned this part carefully, but now that it was here, I thought
it needed some embellishment.

"Please don't!" Uncle Greg whined.  That gave me an idea.

"Don't what?" I asked.  Surely he couldn't be that stupid.  He
was.

"Don't eat my balls!"

I almost burst out laughing.  Greg had told me his greatest fear
and I thought it was the funniest thing I had heard all week.  I
smiled in spite of my attempt to keep my face still.  The sight
of my white teeth, in the middle of the Dragon's face, must have
convinced Greg that I was about to do the thing he dreaded most.

"Eeeeeeeeee!" he screamed.  It was in a key well above high C.  I
was sure that dogs for miles were covering their ears to keep out
the piercing sound.

I had to shut him up.  Not to keep his screams from being heard
by the neighbors   I was certain that everyone in this
neighborhood belonged to Mind Your Own Business rather than the
Neighborhood Watch   but because he was hurting my sensitive ears
with that awful wailing.  I closed my hand around his balls and
twisted.

Greg sucked air and became instantly quiet.  He was convinced
that he was seconds away from castration, followed by
cannibalism.  Even though the pain was making his eyes cross, he
remained perfectly still and attentive.  It was time for my
pitch.

"I'm going to give you one chance to keep your balls, Greg."  I
didn't bother trying to sound menacing.  It would have been
overkill.  I let him absorb the concept that there was a way out
of this for a few seconds, then I went on.  "Your sister and your
niece need you.  They need you to pretend to be a man until they
can get back on their feet.  A man shoulders his responsibilities
without trying to extort sex from the people he is supposed to
protect.  You need to decide if you are a man or not.  Because if
you are not..." I squeezed his balls for emphasis "...if you are
not, then you won't be needing these!"

My pitch was interrupted by a stream of urine jetting from Greg's
penis.  It showered his chest and splashed his face and he seemed
unable to stop it.  I waited until nature had run its course
before I went on.  I knew I had his complete attention.

"In case you hadn't noticed, Greg, I'm a female."  I shook my
breasts unnecessarily and his eyes dropped to see the action. 
"And females of all species stick together.  If I have to come
back here again, I won't be leaving without a snack."

I wanted to give his balls a last sharp twist, but after seeing
his bladder let go, I decided that I had done enough to poor
Greg.  I climbed off the bed and walked to the door.

"Don't even think of running away, Greg.  There isn't a hole deep
enough for you to hide in if you run.  I'll find you.  And when I
do, I won't stop at your balls."  I wasn't completely sure what I
meant by that, but Greg was.  The musty stink that suddenly
filled the room told me that another of Greg's sphincters had let
go.

"And wash those sheets!" I said as I pulled the door shut behind
me.

I dressed quickly and left immediately.  When I got outside, I
was me again.  I walked casually down the block and around the
corner where Neeka could pick me up out of sight of the house.

"Well, that was disgusting," Neeka said as she drove back to the
main road.

"If he had pissed on me, I would have ripped his balls off," I
said, emphatically, but not really meaning it.

"I think he thought you would anyway.  All the same, that's not
the disgusting part.  It's knowing that there are people like
that who walk around on two legs and claim to be men."

"Maybe Greg will turn over a new leaf," I said, but not very
hopefully.  I really didn't want to have anything else to do with
the scum, not even to eat his balls.

To improve our mood, Neeka and I traded testicle recipes for the
rest of the drive down to River Street and our visit to Xaiolong
Li.  A couple of hers didn't sound all that unappetizing.  I had
found from exposure to Mom's cooking and her taste in restaurants
that if you saut something in garlic butter, I can eat it.  It
was the type of testicles that we were unsure about.  Would a
couple of big juicy ones taste better, or should you prepare a
dish of several small pea-sized balls instead?  I thought that
the big juicy ones would probably taste better, but that it would
be a shame to sacrifice a nice pair like that for one meal, even
if you allowed for the leftovers.  It would be much better to
keep them in production, so that their output could be enjoyed
over a longer period of time and in a wider variety of ways.  

"Are you turning into a connoisseur of cum?" Neeka asked.

"Well, yes.  I suppose I am.  The flavor is certainly unique, and
probably not to everyone's taste, but I like it.  I know a lot of
girls who think it's horribly yucky stuff, but if it's fresh and
hasn't been sitting around getting yellow and stale, it can be
very tasty."

"Would you suck a guy off just to taste his cum?"

"It depends on the guy, of course.  If I'm attracted to him and
he turns me on...sure.  I'd do it.  I think I already did that
with Ron Majors, but that was more of a mercy-masturbation and I
didn't get a very good taste."

"Would you suck off a total stranger just for his cum?"

"Now you're getting kinky."

"This isn't already kinky?"

"Maybe a little.  It depends on how turned on I was at the time.
Get me hot enough and I'll do pretty much anything."

"How well I know!  But don't make this sexual.  We're talking
about eating cum, not how you get it out of the guy."

"For me, it's all part of the experience.  I don't know if I'd
want to microwave a plastic packet of cum, just to taste it.  I'd
want to get to know the balls it came out of first.  I'd want to
milk it right out of the cock myself   to suck it hot and fresh,
straight from the source.  I'd want the guy to see me do it, to
know that I appreciated what he had given me."

"Would you rather he came in your mouth, your pussy, or just
sprayed it all over your boobs?"

"Yes."

"Yes, which?"

"Yes, any of the above.  OK, if we're still talking about from a
gourmet point of view, then he'll have to cum in my mouth
obviously.  Being sprayed with it is nice in certain
circumstances.  Isn't it a myth that cum is good for your skin?"

"Don't tell any boys this, but I checked into this, and yes, it
is actually good for your skin.  It works better if you mix it
with real skin cream so it penetrates, but there have been a lot
of girls whose skin cleared up after they let their boyfriends
cum on them."

"Whoa!  I see a new business starting up real soon!"

"How many cums to fill an 8 ounce bottle?"

"Oh.  So much for my delusions of getting rich before I'm 21.  It
would have been fun to visit the factory floor, though.  All
those hunks yanking away, straining to meet their quotas...."

"Or you could hire girls to do it for them.  It would be a nice
part-time job."

"Carpal tunnel syndrome," I warned.  "All that repetitive
stress."

"Yeah.  Too bad.  Have to use machinery.  Strap them down and
suck them dry.  Then move on to the next one."

"I still prefer the old fashioned method."

"The collection bottle between your legs?"

"That's my favorite.  There's nothing like having your pussy
flooded with hot cum.  It just feels so good to have a nice hard
cock pumping away in me, filling me up...   Hold on a minute. I
need something from my bag."

"Do you want me to stop?" Neeka asked.

"No, keep going.  I can reach it."

I squirmed between the seats and reached into my bag.  When I
squirmed back I had my pacifier in my hand.  Seconds later, it
was back in place, keeping my pussy happy.

"Mmmmm," I moaned.  "I'm glad you taught me this.  It helps a
lot."

We had stopped at a light.  "Show me," she said.

I pulled my skirt up and spread my knees as far as I could in the
small car.  I tilted my hips so she could see how my pussy was
contracting repeatedly on the rubber bulb, looking for all the
world like it was sucking away at the big pacifier.

"Steve said that's the hottest thing he'd ever seen," I bragged.

"It's surely high on my list," Neeka said, putting the car in
gear and driving on.  She kept glancing over my way, so I tried
to give her a good show.  I put my hands over the top of the tall
car-seat and held my butt in the air while I tried to tear the
pacifier apart using my vaginal muscles.  I think I was getting
to her because she kept having to jerk the wheel to keep the car
from veering out of her lane.  I know I was having a lot of fun
and giving my pussy a good workout at the same time.

We pulled up in front of the old factory all too quickly.  I
tugged my skirt back into place and sat back down.

"Are you going to be able to calm down?" she asked.  "Or should
we wait a while before going in?"

I was panting like a dog in the hot sun.  I hadn't cum, but I
can't say why not.  My pussy was twitching and my clit was stiff
and still swelling.  I felt wonderfully light-headed, like I had
run several laps and was just getting my second wind.

"No, I'm OK.  I'm a lot better than OK, actually.  Let's go."

We got out, and I skipped to the door with Neeka following behind
me.  Inside, we were met by one of Master Li's assistants - whom
I suspected were all close relatives of his   who showed us into
a room that was hung all over with brocade banners with Chinese
pictographs on them.  It took me a minute to figure out that they
were the equivalent of trophy cups from various competitions. 
There was a large wooden desk at one end of the room, so I
assumed that this was Li's office.

We had only been waiting for a few seconds when Master Li himself
strode in.  He was moving at a much more brisk pace than I
remembered from our lesson the previous week.  I hoped we weren't
interrupting something important.

"Welcome," he said.  Then he paused.  I wasn't sure if it was for
effect, or if he was mentally translating something to say.  I
spoke up before he got a chance to say it, though.

"We want to apologize for missing class yesterday," I told him in
a respectful tone.  The man just oozed power and presence.  I
couldn't help being deferential, even though my head was buzzing
and I felt like giggling.

"We had something urgent come up," Neeka explained.  "We hope you
will let us make up the lesson."

"Do not concern yourselves," he said.  By which I think he meant,
'don't worry about it'.  "I understand that you
have...obligations.  You may make up the lesson you missed should
you choose to do so."

I spotted the partly open door of a largish entertainment center
behind a screen of colorful banners.  I pulled them back so Neeka
could see the TV and video recording equipment.

"He saw us on TV," I said, understanding why he was being so
courteous.

"I recorded it and I have watched it many times," he said.  "I
cannot say the words to express how impressed I am."

I though this was being a little too inscrutable.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because the words are 'Holy Shit' and my momma taught me not to
cuss in mixed company."

"You're not from China."

"San Francisco.  My Chinese is pretty good, for not having been
used much since High School.  My Kung Fu credentials are
impeccable, though.  In case you were wondering."

"I wasn't.  I nearly beat Ed Morris this morning, using what you
taught us."

"I know Ed.  He's not as good as he thinks he is."

"Spoken like a true competitor."

He laughed at that.  "Only in business.  We have separate
competitions.  The different martial arts only get together for
exhibitions.  But I have seen Ed fight.  He favors his right leg.
 How did you lose to him?"

"You mean, why isn't he a greasy spot on the floor somewhere?"

"Yes."

"He came to teach some defense moves to my Gym class.  I only got
to spar with him briefly."

"You must be finding that control you were looking for."

"I have a way to keep from demolishing everything I touch.  I
need to do better, though.  I worry about hitting too hard."

"I understand."  He paused again and I suddenly understood why he
kept doing it.

"OK, you ask me one and I ask you one."

"Deal," he said.  "How do you do the thing with your skin? 
That's not makeup."

"I have almost total control of my body, down to the cellular
level.  I just move the pigment around to make the design.  How
do you keep so still?  That would drive me nuts!"

"Lots of practice.  It's a psychological edge.  It intimidates
people.  Old Chinese trick."

"Right."

"Look, I'd give my right arm to work with you.  You are a dream
come true for anyone in this business."

"You can't tell anyone about me."

"I understood that last week.  We're still finding pieces of that
board.  No, I don't want to exploit you; I just want to work with
you.  You are the ultimate student."

"Not 'apprentice'?"

"I'm not going to patronize someone with your abilities.  It's
going to be quite a challenge for me to find a way to work with
you without getting killed.  It's a good thing you have a
partner."

"She has her uses."  I got ready to duck as soon as I thought of
saying that.  It was a wise move.  Neeka slapped at me and I bent
over to avoid her hand.

"Don't bend," Li said. "Just flex your knees or move your feet to
avoid a blow like that.  When you bend over, you are shifting
your center and allowing your opponent to influence you without
making contact.  It is important to remain centered at all times.
 Otherwise you will blow away in a stiff wind.  Come with me.  I
will show you what I mean."

He led the way into a back room and we spent the next hour
working on how to stay centered and in control while in a fight.
At the end of it, I felt like I had made considerable progress. 
I could move and be instantly ready to attack or defend.

"It is a mistake to think that you can learn the fundamentals and
then move on to more advanced things," Li told us.  "Fundamentals
are the most important thing.  You must work on them every time
you practice."

"When do you want us back?" I asked as we were getting ready to
leave.

"As often as you can come.  I will be available anytime you need
me.  You are the most important work I have."

"You are being very generous."

"No.  I'm not.  I have two grandchildren who attend Southside
Elementary School.  This is both an opportunity I will not miss
and a debt I will not fail to repay."

"How's three o'clock Tuesdays and Thursdays?"

"Then I will see you both next Tuesday."



I still thought Master Li was being awfully accommodating in
telling us we could show up anytime we wanted.  Lots of people
had kids that went to Southside or Ringling.  They were the
newest and biggest schools in the county.  I wondered if all of
the families of those kids were going to think they owed me.

"Don't they?" Neeka asked, eavesdropping on my thoughts.

"What?  Owe me for doing something that had to be done?  I didn't
do them a favor.  I did it because someone had to and the
'someone' turned out to be me...us.  I don't want everyone
thinking they owe me for doing this.  I don't want their
gratitude."

"There are going to be a lot of people who don't see it that way.
 Given the chance, they are going to want to express that
gratitude."

"You're saying I should smile and be gracious about it?"

"Yes.  Is that so hard?"

"No.  I want to help people.  I enjoy it.  It makes me feel
wonderful when I get to make a real difference in someone's life.
 Saving a life is the biggest rush I know of.  They don't need to
thank me, too!  That's just so embarrassing."

"Gee, you've got it tough."

"Oh, hush.  I know what you're saying.  I should be noble about
it and let them thank me and fawn all over me.  I think I
understand why Heroes don't stick around afterward.  They don't
want to have to listen to the 'thank-you's'.  Disappearing
afterward is a necessary part of the job."

"So is Public Relations.  Dad runs into this all the time.  When
he gets back from a trip, he tells us these horror stories   no
names, but we usually know who he's been working for   about
people who get themselves in trouble because they forget that no
matter how important or powerful they are, they can't ignore what
the public thinks."

"All right.  I'll try to be noble and gracious."

"Just say, 'Happy to be of service'."

"And then leave before they try to give me the key to the city or
something?"

"Don't think they won't try."

"Oh, no!"



Neeka turned out to be clairvoyant.  I had just walked into the
house when Mom told me that Sheriff Foster had called.

"More trouble?  Do I need to call back?"

"Not today, thank heavens.  No, he was very apologetic about it,
but he promised he would pass several messages along to you.  I
think you may want to sit down for this."

I followed her downstairs with a sinking feeling in my stomach. 
When we were comfortable on the sofa, she held up a small pad and
started to read her notes.

"Every TV station, radio station, and newspaper in the lower part
of the state wants to interview you.  Several civic groups want
you to speak to them.  The PTA, the Chamber of Commerce, the DAR,
the Kiwanis, the VFW, Rotary, Civitan, American Legion, and Scout
Troop 43 have all expressed an interest in having you attend one
of their meetings."

"Scout Troop 43?"

"Apparently you are a big hit with the 14-and-under male
demographic."

"Of course!  The comic book readers."

"Yes.  Like Mr. Morton, they are probably your biggest fans."

"Oh, no!  I have fans?"

"You have no idea.  You've been in school most of the day.  You
haven't seen what's been going on."

She handed me the front section of the newspaper.  My picture
filled half of the front page.  Neeka's wasn't much smaller.  The
article was a bunch of questions for which, fortunately, the
reporter had few answers.  That was probably why the pictures
were so big.  The only thing they had managed to turn up so far
was our involvement in thwarting the robbery of the grocery
store.

"Wow!"

"Mr. Morton called, too.  The dear man was positively bubbling
over with excitement.  He said to tell you he has a design for a
second suit for you with some improvements that he wants to show
you whenever you can come into his shop."

"A second suit sounds like a good idea.  I didn't know I would be
this busy when he made me the first one or I would have asked
about that.  We'll go see him tomorrow after school.  Neeka wants
him to have a design put on her jacket, too."

"Hmmm, he will probably have some ideas to improve her costume,
too.  I hope he isn't neglecting his other customers because of
this."

That sounded suspiciously like Mom had asked Mr. Morton to make
her a swimsuit to wear this weekend and she wanted to make sure
it was ready on time.  With his quick turnaround, anything was
possible, and surely a skimpy swimsuit would not take all that
long to put together.  If she had recruited professional help,
maybe I needed to reconsider my decision to go easy on Bambi in
our 'most daring swimsuit' competition.

"Mr. Morton isn't the only one going out of his way on my
behalf."  I explained How Master Li had pledged his personal
attention anytime I wanted, and why he felt obligated to do
that.

"I don't think people should feel that they have to pay me back,"
I explained.  "Neeka thinks I should just put on a happy face and
go with the flow."

"She has a point, honey.  You may think that your reasons for
doing this are sufficient, but people are going to feel the way
people are going to feel and there isn't much you can do to
change that.  But I'm not the most objective person to talk to
about this.  What I owe you can never be fully repaid."

"Oh."  

I had forgotten that Mom would be on the side of those who felt
they owed me something.  That reminded me that I owed her quite a
lot, too.  In one way or another, we all have, or feel we have,
obligations to others, either individually to our friends and
family or collectively to our neighbors or to our country.  Those
who don't feel these obligations are either terminally antisocial
or are true menaces to society.

I felt I had a duty to use my abilities for the common good.  It
was something I had to do if I was going to be able to live with
myself.  I certainly didn't intend to obligate anyone to repay me
  all my jokes about the low pay and the perqs of the job were
just that   jokes.  The idea of billing people, of being a
Heroine for Hire, put a bad taste in my mouth.  Gratitude just
seemed so cloying and saccharine.

Mom's point that, regardless of what I wanted or thought, people
were going to have their own feelings about whether they should
be grateful for my help was something I couldn't argue about.  I
didn't want gratitude.  Neeka said I should accept it gracefully.
 And Mom said there wasn't much I could do about it one way or
another.  To continue to refuse the thanks that would probably
continue to be offered would only hurt people's feelings, and I
surely didn't want to do that.  It looked like I was being forced
to be noble about this despite my feelings on the subject.

Neeka's comment about PR being a necessary evil   certainly not
her words, but my opinion   struck a chord.  We did need to
manage the public's perception of what we were doing, or at least
try to present the face that we wanted them to see.  

I remembered our ride through the most tree-lined streets she
could find so we could get home without being followed by the TV
station's helicopter.  The people who came out of their houses
and waved at us may have been saying thank-you as much as they
were gawking at the funny-looking girls on the monster motorbike.
 At the time, I had been preoccupied with whether we were going
to be able to evade the media to appreciate it, but that had
actually been a nice moment.  I wondered what people would have
said, if we had stopped to talk.  Maybe if we could do something
like that again and talk to some regular folks to see how they
felt about The Dragon and Ace I could get past my aversion to
having people feel they were indebted to me.



During dinner, we all talked about what we had heard people
saying and how many seemed to be saying it.  Some of the things
were predictable and some were pretty outrageous.  The Space
Alien theorists seemed to be the smallest group to share a common
opinion.  After them came the Secret Government Experiment
believers.  I suppose this was somewhat more credible than being
a Space Alien, but not much more flattering to think you had been
bred in a test tube than to have been born on Venus.  The next
largest group was certain the whole thing was a hoax and that it
was only a matter of time before someone exposed it as such.  I
thought that this group probably included those who were just
unwilling to accept anything outside their own narrow world-view
and were desperate to hear that "there ain't no such animal"
after all.

The biggest group seemed to be those who were willing to accept
what they saw at face value, and had open minds about who or what
I was.  This was the group that thought we were cool and who
wanted to have us come talk to whatever organization they
belonged to.  I was very relieved to hear that the number of
people who were demanding that I be routed from my lair and
burned at the stake as an abomination was extremely small and no
one was taking them seriously when they managed to get a forum
for their views.

After dinner I went in to watch the local TV news with the rest
of my family.  Mom sat down on the sofa and I sat down beside
her.  Jim sat down and put his arm around Mom, and Bud put his
arm around me.  It was very cozy and nice because it was
spontaneous.

The TV didn't have much more to add to what they had been putting
out for the last day.  The connection to the grocery store holdup
was currently being played up, which was more old news since the
paper had uncovered that earlier.  The artificial excitement of
the news anchors wasn't holding my interest and I was about to
ask if there wasn't something else we could be watching when a
familiar face popped onto the screen.

"So, Deputy Murphy, we understand that you were there when The
Dragon thwarted the supermarket holdup.  Is that right?" The
interviewer was referring to herself in the plural.  I hated when
they did that.  It sounded so pretentious.

Murphy suddenly looked uncomfortable.  I suspected that he had
been told that the interview would be about his commendation and
the interviewer was ambushing him with this line of questioning.

"Yes, that is correct, ma'am," he said.  His normally formal tone
was becoming positively stilted.

"Can you tell us what happened?" the interviewer asked,
hopefully.  I briefly empathized with her.  I'd seen some TV
interviews where people froze up so badly on camera that they
could hardly manage one-word answers to the questions.

Murphy looked like he wanted to tell the girl where to go.  His
eyes darted about like he was checking for the closest exit. 
Then he took a deep breath and told the story.

It was interesting hearing it from his point of view.  He started
off with a no-nonsense statement of the facts that sounded like
it might have been taken verbatim from the official report.  He
told how his unit had been dispatched on a silent alarm, how they
had approached through the back of the store, and how, when they
discovered that it had turned into a hostage-situation, he kept
watch while the on-duty SWAT squad surrounded the building.

Murphy became visibly more at ease as he described waiting the
long minutes he had sat in the dark, expecting the SWAT members
to rush in and take down the perpetrators in a hail of bullets
any second.  He even admitted that he got a case of nerves while
he watched the robbers become more excited and agitated when they
realized that their plans had come unraveled.  He said that he
was sure that the whole thing was about to blow up any second.

"And what happened then?"  The interviewer' urged.  Her
professional demeanor slipped a bit, along with the mid-western
accent she had been faking.  Her vowels came out with some
familiar extra sounds in them.

"Well," Murphy continued, "I was about to get on the radio and
find out what the...what was taking so long, when someone tapped
me on the shoulder.  I was so keyed-up that it startled me.  I
hadn't noticed anyone coming.  I hadn't heard a thing.  She was
just suddenly there!

"I turned around and there was this girl's face floating there in
the dark storeroom.  At first the face was all I could see.  That
suit she wears makes the rest of her almost invisible, you know?
Anyway, she told me...she told me she was my fairy godmother. 
She said she was going to go in and deal with the robbers and she
wanted me to back her up."

"You said a girl's face?" The interviewer interrupted, passing up
the obvious question about my fairy godmother crack.  "Not the
dragon-face we saw yesterday?"

"That's right," Murphy said, impatient at being stopped in the
middle of his story.  "She's very pretty, too.  I noticed that
first off.  She didn't turn into the Dragon until she was ready
to go into the store.  She even warned me she was going to change
like that, but I still nearly crap... uh, I was still startled. 
It was dark in there, you know, and I didn't know what to expect.
 I've seen her do that a couple of times since then and I'll tell
you, it's not something you get used to seeing.  It makes your
guts crawl, being that close when she turns into The Dragon."

"Thanks loads, Murphy," I thought.  "They didn't need to know
that I change.  Now they'll be looking for a girl, not a
lizard."

"Anyway, she went into the store like a commando, you know?  She
crawled out across that floor and just about disappeared.  Then I
saw her pop up behind one of the robbers and before he could
react, she snatched his gun away and went after the other one. 
That's when I followed her.  I was going to cover the first perp
while she went after the second one."

Murphy paused.  If it had been anyone else, I would have
suspected that it was for effect, but I knew Murphy was reliving
a near-death experience and he was just trying to calm down
before he went on.  They cut to a reaction shot of the
interviewer to fill the time.  She looked fascinated.  I expected
her to urge him to continue, but she was so caught up in the
story that she forgot her line.

"So I go in with my gun drawn, see.  She's just turned her back
on the first guy, like he's nothing to worry about now that he's
unarmed.  She's so focused on getting the hostages free that she
doesn't care about anything else.

"She's about to take on the second guy, who's holding a knife,
when I see that he's got a pistol in his belt too and she doesn't
have a chance in hell of getting to him before he can pull it out
and shoot her dead.  So I yell for him to drop the knife and get
down on the floor.  That's when it all hit the fan.

"The first guy grabs her from behind, and the second guy goes for
his gun.  Only instead of shooting her with it, he points it at
me.  I'm trying to decide if I have a good shot, but with the
hostages behind the second guy I'm not sure that I can get him
cleanly and not hit one of them if I miss, so I hesitate just a
fraction of a second.  

"I'm about to take a chance and shoot the guy with the pistol,
because he's going to shoot me if I don't.  There is this blur in
the air, and a gun goes off.  I'm not sure if it's me or the perp
doing the shooting. By the time I figure out it was him, and for
some reason I'm not dead, both perps are out cold and she's
standing there, holding something out to me."

Murphy stopped long enough to reach into the breast-pocket of his
duty shirt and pull out a small object.  He held it up so the
camera could get a good shot of it.

"This is what she gave me.  It's the bullet that would have
killed me if she hadn't have stopped it."

"Stopped it?" the interviewer said.  "How did she stop a
bullet?"

"She grabbed it right out of the air.  She just put out her hand
and caught it, like it was the easiest thing in the world.  When
she gave it to me, it was still burning hot.  I'm holding it in
my hand and I still have trouble believing that anyone could do
that, but here it is."

"So she saved your life?"

"My life, the hostages' lives, probably at least one of the
perps' lives, too.  If she hadn't been there, things would have
ended very differently.  We were very lucky that she got
involved."

They must have run out of time for that segment, because they cut
away from the interview with Murphy and the anchorperson promised
'more news later on this breaking story' and then the commercials
started.

"Wow!  Is that what happened, sis?" Bud asked.

"Pretty much," I said.  "Murphy left some things out and he added
a couple of details that I don't recall, but I'm sure that's how
he remembers it.  I wish he hadn't said that about me changing
into the Dragon.  In hindsight, I shouldn't have let anyone see
my real face.  Can't be helped now, I guess.  At least the girl
doing the interview didn't get to follow up on that.  Thank
goodness for commercials!"

"He doesn't know you got hurt catching the bullet," Mom
observed.

"Probably not.  I think I got out of there before it really
started to hurt.  I remember it was some time before I could move
my fingers again."

"Don't worry about him giving away part of your secret.  I think
that will help more than it will hurt."

"How?"

"People will know that The Dragon is just a mask and that there's
a real person under there.  They won't be as afraid of you."

"They know Murphy thinks you're pretty, too," Bud added.

"What do mean, 'thinks'?" I asked, jokingly.  I reached over to
give Bud a pinch but he scooted away before I could get him.

"OK, I meant they think he knows you're pretty!" He said.  I
ignored him.

"I want some of them to be afraid of me.  The bad guys, I mean."

"I don't think that will be much of a problem after yesterday,"
Mom said.

I wondered how much of Uncle Greg's fear of me was due to the
surprise of finding something that looked like me in Dina's bed
and how much was because he had seen me on TV demolishing the
tank.  Judging from the way he peed himself, he'd been pretty
well spooked.  That was the kind of reaction I wanted all crooks
to have when they met me.  If I paralyzed them with fear, it
would be much safer for everyone than if I had to fight them.

After the third consecutive commercial, I announced that I had
homework to do and I got up, leaving Jim and Bud to fight over
which of them got to put their arm around Mom, who was eating it
up.  I picked up my books, but instead of using the desk in the
family room, I took them down to the workshop so I wouldn't have
any distractions.

It was very quite down there and with no interruptions I finished
my assignments in no time at all.  It was still well before
bedtime and I hadn't had a lot of time alone lately, so I decided
to just hang out down there for a while.  The silence started to
get to me, so I turned on the police radio and listened to the
calls.  Except for the routine in-service, out-of-service,
taking-a-pee kind of radio traffic, there wasn't much of anything
happening.  Crime seemed to be taking the night off, which was
fine with me.

After idly punching the heavy bag a few times, I stopped because
I didn't have any enthusiasm for it and I didn't want to get all
worked up before bedtime.  I sat down at the computer and looked
at the screen.  Neeka had made using it to connect to the county
systems look easy.  I didn't have her skills, having only used
computers for writing papers, doing Web searches and stuff.

The screen had a strange-looking icon on it that looked like an
eye.  It blinked and rolled when I moved the mouse pointer close
to it and it said 'Surveillance' underneath.  Curious, I clicked
on it and a screen came up with a list of locations, mostly
intersections.  When I clicked on one, it opened a window that
looked like a picture of the intersection of Main and Ebersol
downtown.  I recognized the store on the opposite corner, but I
couldn't figure out where the camera was until I realized that it
must be mounted on one of the tall light-poles.

I clicked the Back button and picked another camera.  Many of
them were just pictures of crosswalks, with the occasional person
walking through the crosswalk.  Riveting stuff.  I hoped there
wasn't someone whose job it was to stare at this all night, on
the chance that a crime would be committed in view of the
camera.

I skipped down the list, looking for something more interesting.
All the locations were public areas.  I saw one that said
Brownlow Park, which was where we had met with Murphy and
Rosario, so I clicked it.

The picture was of the parking lot.  The camera there was also
mounted on a light-pole so the image was well lit.  I could see
one car still in the lot.  It looked like it was jerking around
and I looked at it closer.  I could make out two people in the
back seat.  They were moving around in there like they were
fighting.  One was on top of the other and had one hand on the
door and the other on the back seat.  The one on the bottom had
both hands on the neck of the one on top.

I nearly grabbed the radio microphone to report a crime in
progress when the strangeness of seeing the person on the bottom
choking the person on top hit me.  Instead of hitting the
microphone switch, I closed the window on the screen.  Realizing
that I was watching two people make love in the back of a car
made me feel like a peeping tom.  I wanted to go over and warn
them that they were on camera, but they would almost certainly be
gone by the time I got there.

I turned off the computer and the radio and went back upstairs,
thinking how lucky I was that there were no cameras outside the
Gym building at school.  Halfway up, I turned around and went
back.  I turned on the computer again and waited patiently for it
to start up.  When the eyeball icon reappeared I opened it and
checked the list.  There wasn't a camera behind the Gym, but
there was one overlooking the parking lot.  I wondered if anyone
had been watching when Angie and I had fucked Neeka's gearshift
or when I had strip-searched Sue and then gone down between her
legs.  It gave me a weird rush to think that someone might have
been watching the whole time for either event.  But I decided to
be a little more careful about what I did in public places from
now on.

When I went back to the family room, Jim and Bud had gone.  Mom
was sitting in the same spot on the sofa, with her head back and
her eyes closed.  I walked very quietly across the plush carpet
in case she had dozed off.  She had a contented smile on her
face.  Her blouse was hanging open and there were two damp spots
on it.  Apparently Jim and Bud had had some dessert after I left.
 I was torn between being envious of her or happy that she was
getting the attention she craved.

Mom had told me that nursing someone was one of the nicest
feelings and the most emotionally bonding things you could do.  I
remembered how great I felt while comforting Dina in Sue's office
and now I understood exactly what she meant.

As quietly as I could, I crept around and slid onto the sofa,
putting my head in her lap.  As soon as she felt the weight, she
raised her head and looked down at me.  I smiled at her and tried
to look needy.  It worked.  She pulled her blouse open and gave
me a breast.  With her nipple in my mouth I closed my eyes and
took my own turn being comforted.  It was almost as blissful as
being on the other end.  Pretty tasty, too.  I wasn't able to pin
down what the flavor reminded me of, but it was delicious.

She stroked my hair and my cheek.  I let go of all my worries and
all my concerns and drifted into a warm, safe place.  I don't
know how long I lay there, but I must have fallen asleep, because
she had to wake me up to tell me it was bedtime.  When I opened
my eyes, I found I had been switched to her other breast without
knowing it.  I gave her nipple a last quick suck and then licked
it clean for her.  She kissed me and we went upstairs to go to
bed without saying a word to each other.  I think both of us were
reluctant to break the mood.





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