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From: M1KEHUNT@aol.com
Subject: The Darkroom (A Sequel) - by MIKE HUNT

This is a sequel.  If you haven't read "The Photographer - by MIKE HUNT"
then don't read this one.  Save it, find "The Photographer" and then
come back.

If you're not 18, then you shouldn't read this, ever.  Close this file,
sign out of this newsgroup, and go find a chat room somewhere where
there are probably pedophiles LIVE ON LINE waiting to seduce you 
and then torture and kill you and bury you in the hills of Kentucky.
Yeah, that's a much better idea.


The Darkroom (A Sequel) - by MIKE HUNT


It had only been a couple days since my wild photo session with Bob
and his beautiful wife Krystal. It had started out as a glamour photo
session (even though I've mostly only done nature stuff as a hobby)
and ended up with a three-way. Krystal, shy as I've always known her,
really let loose when she had her husband in front of her and me behind,
servicing her at both ends, so to speak. Anyway, my phone rang, and
I went to answer it. I was surprised to hear her voice on the line
since she rarely called me; it was Bob and I who hung around together
mostly.

"So about those pictures..." she started. "Bob is out of town until
Thursday, and I thought it would be really cool if I had a set of
them to show him when he gets back. Do you have them developed yet?"

"Unfortunately not," I replied. "My developer broke, but I'm getting
it fixed." I didn't tell her that I had ruined one of the rolls before
discovering the problem with the developer. Luckily that roll was
the first one I shot, and didn't have anything important on it anyway.

"Oh, too bad. Well, how long do you think? A couple of weeks, or
what?" she asked.

"No no, just a day or two. I should have the developer back by tomorrow,
and then give me an evening to get it all done. If you want to come
over on Wednesday night..." I offered. I knew that would be tight,
but I could blow off work a little early tomorrow and get started.
By Wednesday night I'd have all the film developed and the contact
sheets printed. I just wouldn't have time to do any enlargements.
She was thrilled, and said she'd see me Wednesday.

I immediately got in the car and went to the liquor store. I was
out of wine, having finished it off when she and Bob were at the house,
and I wanted to make sure I'd have plenty. You never know, you know?
Then I stopped at the photo shop which was repairing my little developer.
Bad news. The guy said it would take a couple more days to repair;
one of the little gears on the crank had busted, and it was such an
old model they didn't have a replacement in stock.

I told him to forget it, and I bought a new one. I came home with
my purchases and got to work. All in all I had shot 12 rolls of film
with Bob and Krystal. Forget the one ruined one, and I still had nearly
400 shots of her (and a couple of him) to wade through. I got started.

My darkroom is tiny. It's just a converted closet, really, in my
basement. And because it's a closet, the ventilation is terrible.
The smell of the chemicals is bad enough, but because the door has
to be sealed shut to keep out the light, it gets muggy and humid and
uncomfortable as hell, especially from late spring to early fall.I was 
used to doing my business in there standing just in my slippers and 
jockey shorts. Even then the sweat would pour off my body. I kept a 
towel hanging on the back wall just to wipe myself off from time to time.

As each roll came out of the developer I inspected it. I liked what I saw.
Even though I was looking at the negatives before printing a contact
sheet, there was no mistaking my subject in the pictures. Krystal
was some gorgeous babe, and here I had shot after shot down her low-cut
top, up her skirt, under her panties. Whew, as I reviewed the pictures
I remembered how the evening had ended, with me fucking her from behind
while she blew her husband. I got hard and stayed hard.

Finally I had all the rolls developed and the contact sheets printed.
Well, almost all the rolls. When the action in my kitchen had started
getting hot and heavy I had taken one old camera, loaded it with super-fast
film, and set it on automatic on the other side of the kitchen. It
took a picture every 20 seconds or so, without flash. I hadn't told
either Bob or Krystal that I was doing it, but what the hell, I had
the camera and the film, and I just did it. Because I was sneaking
it, I hadn't gotten behind the camera and aimed it or anything, I just
set it on a counter and pointed it in the general direction. I figured 
I'd get some hidden-camera private shots, if you know what I mean.

The next night Krystal showed up promptly at 7:00, and knocked on
the door. I had hoped she'd be dressed all sexy, maybe even ready 
for a rematch. Instead she was (as she usually was) dressed in a 
plain blouse and a baggy brown skirt the hung to her knees. The 
outfit did its best to conceal her figure. I tried to conceal my 
disappointment. I wasn't exactly going to win a fashion award either,
though. I had on soft blue gym shorts and a T-shirt. Then again, 
I knew how hot the darkroom got.

"What, no wine?", I asked.

"Oh no. I shouldn't have had so much the last time," she blushed.
"Wine makes me loose. Horny. Always has. I guess Bob thought it would
help relax me. Well, it certainly did... but... no, I didn't bring
any wine."

"Oops," I said. I motioned over to the kitchen counter, where two
empty wine glasses stood, ready to receive their nectar. "I went out
and got a couple of bottles, in case, you know, in case, ah..." My
voice trailed off while I thought. I recovered. "I didn't realize
it had that effect on you. I just thought it would be nice, you know,
and I, ah..." I was stumbling around like a high school kid.

"Yeah, definitely horny. I mean, it's not like some aphrodisiac for
heaven's sake...I'm not out of control or anything...it just loosens
me up." She paused. "Listen, Mike. I'm a little uncomfortable with
this. Because what happened on Saturday was out of the ordinary for
me. I mean, waayyy out of the ordinary. And I don't want to...
I mean, it was great, and a real memory, for sure, but I don't want
you to think... Ah, why am I having so much trouble with this? You
know what I'm trying to say, don't you?" It was her turn to fumble.

"Yes. We got wild on Saturday, and now you're feeling guilty. Don't
worry. Your secret is safe with me. Is Bob OK with what happened?"

"Oh sure," she replied. "He thought it was the greatest turn-on on
earth. Actually, so did I. I just wouldn't want you to get the idea..."

"...that you're a horny bitch," I interrupted.

"Well, that's sort of a coarse way to put it. But now that you mention
it, I am horny by nature." She giggled. "Most people don't think so
because I'm so naturally shy. I just don't like to meet people, mostly..."

"Well, do you mind if I pour a little for myself?" I tilted the bottle
of wine and let some dribble into the glass. "I bought it yesterday
and the guy in the store highly recommended it. In fact if I remember
correctly he said it was from de-hornified grapes."

She laughed at my pathetic attempt at humor. "Don't be silly. Go
right ahead." Then I heard, "In fact, if you're pouring,
pour a half-glass for me. I'll just watch myself."

I thought, "I'll watch you too!" I poured a full glass for myself,
and the biggest half-glass you ever saw. Her glass was about 80%
full. We chatted while we sipped the wine. Within 10 minutes both
glasses were empty and I suggested a refill. She chided me, but agreed,
but insisted this time that I REALLY only fill her glass half-way. I
filled mine about 80% and hers about 60%. It was a reasonable compromise.

While we were still nursing our glasses, she suddenly piped up, "So
when do I get to see the pictures? Are they any good? Do you think
Bob will like them?"

I said "He'd have to be dead not to like them. I modestly would have
to say they're some of my finest work."

"Oooo. Let's go see," she exclaimed.

"OK," I said. "But I have to warn you, my so-called darkroom is 
downstairs, and it's small and stuffy. It might be a little uncomfortable."

"Fine, fine," she answered politely. If she only knew. Well, we'd 
just have to see what developed.

We headed for the stairs. As I walked past the kitchen counter, I
grabbed the bottle of wine. It was still about half-full. With my
other hand I flipped on the stair light and opened the door. At the
bottom of the stairs was the darkroom door. I announced our arrival:

"Ladies and Gentlemen on today's tour... This is the darkroom. It
began life as a really big closet. It was converted 4 years ago to
a really small darkroom. Please file in single-file." I got a smile
for my efforts.

Knowing that she was coming over, I had done some modest rearranging.
I had rebottled or tossed the chemicals, and cleared off a good portion
of the short counter which I had built on one side of the 8 foot deep
closet. On the left side was about 2 feet of countertop, then my
enlarger, then a small light-table, and another 3 feet of counter
top. At the far end was a 2 drawer file cabinet and a wooden stool.
There was just room for two, maybe two-and-a-half people to stand.

Now to be perfectly honest, there was no reason for us to be in the
darkroom. All of the processing had already been done. We could have
just as easily taken the contact sheets to the kitchen table to look
at them, but hey, photographer ... darkroom .... I had planned my 
strategy, and wanted to have every advantage. Kind of like the
coach on game day, you know?

(continued in part 2)

I flipped on the overhead light. It was only a 40-watt bulb, but
she was still surprised that there was any light at all. I explained
that the only time a darkroom needs to be dark is when film is being
transferred or developed, and at certain times when prints are being
made. I made a big production of showing her the little developer
canister. I showed her how the film comes out of the little cartridge
and goes into the canister, and showed her the little handle on the
side, and all. She seemed interested, or if she wasn't she was putting
on a good show. Then I pulled out the contact sheets. All 20 of them.
They were 8 1/2 by 11 inches, and the images on them were the actual
size of the film images, less than an inch square each. A contact sheet is 
nothing more than an index sheet of all of the 35mm film shots.

She was disappointed. "I thought you would have pictures..." she
whined.

"Well, we will. But you have to decide which ones you want. I couldn't
print all 400 of these. It would cost a fortune!" I told her. "Now
you look through the contact sheets and decide which ones you want.
Then I can blow them up to 4 by 6 or 8 by 10 or whatever you want."

"Oh," she said. "I just thought..."

"Yeah," I interrupted. "You thought this was FotoMat, and you'd get
double prints and everything."

"Sorry," she replied. "Guess I'm just a dumb broad."

"Ah don't worry about it. Most people never think about it. They
just pay their $10 and get ripped off at the corner drug store. The
good pictures, the shitty pictures, they all come back the same. This 
is where you throw away the crappy ones and make the good ones great."

"OK," she brightened. "I get it."

"Just a sec," I answered. "I'm dying in here." I whipped off my T-shirt.
I stood there in my gym shorts. I could tell she was hot as well. Her
blouse had started to get wet and stick to her body, and the outline of 
her bra became more visible through the damp material. She didn't move.

I handed her the viewer, a sort of upside down shot-glass. You put
it over the individual frames on the contact sheet to get a larger
view. "This usually helps," I said, taking a tug on the bottle of
wine. I handed it to her. She took a gulp, too.

She wasn't really comfortable using the viewer; most people aren't
at first. But after a minute or two she got the hang of it. "Oh, here we 
go back at the beginning," she exclaimed. Of course, I was giving 
her the sheets in chronological order. I knew them by heart. She was 
sitting at the kitchen table, fully, but sexily dressed in her low cut 
halter top and short skirt. You couldn't really see anything, yet.

I said "Let me see." I moved in next to her, until our arms were
brushing against each other. I took the viewer and bent down. "Yep,
here's a good one." I pointed to #6. She agreed, and I marked it with
a wax pencil for later enlargement. I took a swig from the wine bottle
and handed it to her. She took a small mouthful.

"Careful with that stuff," she said. "You know it makes me horny." 
She giggled. "Doesn't it have the same effect on you?"

"Don't know," I replied. "Everything makes me horny." She laughed.
"Here, how about this one?" I pointed to a picture later in the series,
one of my first down-the-blouse shots. You could see some really nice
cleavage, and her face had come out real pretty, as well. Our fingers
touched as I handed her the viewer. She leaned in to see and the sides
of our arms became pressed together, again.

"I guess," she said.

"Oh it's really nice," I protested. "First, your face looks so pretty
in that shot." She sat back, and I could tell she liked being complimented.
"And it's a tasteful, ah, cleavage shot that I think Bob will like."

"OK. Probably. I think he'll want something a little more revealing,
tho." Then she stood up and said, "Whew, it really is hot in here!
I'm dying." Her fingers went to the buttons on her blouse. She opened
up the top three, which didn't give much relief, since when she
started it had been buttoned right up to the neck. She tugged the
shirt-tail out of her skirt.

"Hey, don't stop on my account," I offered. "It's only going to get
worse." She thought it over for a minute, and then continued unbuttoning.
There was a sexual tension in the air, but I pretended to pay scant
attention as she unbuttoned the rest of the buttons in the front except. 
two at the bottom. The blouse hung nearly open as she bent back over
to look at the pictures. But in just a couple minutes she was still
sweating profusely, and she flapped the opening to try to cool herself.
The material was sopping wet. She had her bra on, and it was wet too, 
clinging like a second skin to her tits. She undid the last buttons
and let the blouse hang open.

"Ah, that is so much better," she said to no one in particular. She
moved back over next to me. I brought out the next contact sheet.
This was the one where we had some major down-the-blouse shots. In
the photos she was leaning forward, the top hanging away from her
rounded breasts.

I said "Check out #3 and #12." I had them memorized, even though
I had only developed them yesterday. It was apparent she didn't know
where to look for the numbers, so I pointed to them.

"Oh my god, you can see right down my blouse," she blushed. She was
standing next to me, but back a little. As she leaned over to look
at the photo sheet I could feel her bra cup brushing against my arm.
I could hear her breathing. "And this one! Look, it's practically
'Tits on Parade'". I laughed. "Bob will love these, but I can't ever
let anyone else see them." She seemed to forget that I was looking
at them, too.

She grabbed for the wine. She took a gulp and passed it to me.

We went for the next sheet. It was more of the same; we found a couple
where she was smiling sweetly into the camera while the lecherous
photographer had found ways to expose her beautiful chest. It
got hotter and hotter in the little room.

She was engrossed looking at the next contact sheet. I pulled the 
stool over to sit on. Even though I was only half-erect, I wanted to 
disguise my condition, at least for the moment. As I pulled the chair
up next to her and sat down, she said "I'm dying. It's just nasty 
in here." I thought it was an interesting choice of words.

She fanned the hem of her skirt to move some cooler air up her legs, 
and came back next to me. I was sitting on my stool in my
shorts; she stood in her dripping shirt, bra, skirt and panties.
I brought out another contact sheet.

This was the one where I started crawling around under the table,
getting an upskirt shot that Bob had wanted. I found a couple that
were particularly good, one was a real Sharon Stone shot with Krystal's
pubic hair clearly visible. I told her to look.

"Oh my god," she exclaimed. "Oh, promise you won't ever show these
to anyone. This is so embarrassing!"

"Don't worry about it," I assured her. "These are just for you and
Bob, and maybe for me once in a while," I smiled. She straightened
up, then took the viewer and leaned forward to look. But this time,
she put her free hand on my thigh, as if for support. As she leaned
in she seemed to concentrate on the picture. My dick began to grow.
She stared and stared, and then her hand moved up my leg a little,
closer to my crotch.

She remained bent over, her eye just an inch from the contact sheet.
She said "Well I hope this is enough for Bob. God. You can see my
cunt just plastered there right in front of your nose. Jeez. If this
doesn't do it for him..."

"It will. I know. It does it for me," I said. "It's really a sexy
shot, looking right up a pretty girl's dress like that and seeing
her pussy, and all. Trust me, it's a super turn on."

"You know what I just realized?" she asked, still bent over the table. 
That whole time there you were looking at me...at my tits, and at my 
pussy, and at my ass, and I never once got to look at you." Her hand 
moved up higher. Her fingertips slid under the edge of my gym shorts
and brushed the edge of my jockeys. She pretended to be 
concentrating on the picture. I knew better.

"Hey, can you blame a guy? A pretty girl comes over to your house
and says 'Here, take a peek, look at my tits, look up my dress.'
What do you think I would do? What do you thing any guy would do?"

"I think I know what a guy would do," she said, sliding her hand
up and over the front of my underwear. "I think he would get hard." Her
fingers closed in on her prey. "Yep, I think he would get real hard."
She grasped my dick through my shorts, and began a slow massage. "Here,
look at this," she said. "#32."

She handed me the viewer and slid the contact sheet in front of me.
The hand holding my dick through my shorts never missed a beat. I
bent down to look. It was a shot of her from under the table, this
time with her legs wider apart. She was slouched down, her puffy snatch
fairly smiling at the camera. The gash of her womanhood was clearly
visible below her dark curly cunt hair, the insides of her thighs
pointing the way to the entrance of her tunnel of pleasure. I studied
the picture. As I sat there, I felt her hand begin to search for the
opening in the front of my briefs, and when she found it, her nimble
fingers crept inside and found my swollen boner. She led my dick out
of the flap and out of the leg of the gym shorts, until it waved free in
the air. Her fist encircled me and she slowly began to pump.

(continued in part 3)

I continued looking at #32. She said "Do you like it? You can see
my whole cunt right there. I mean the hole cunt. Get it? Hole? That's
a really nasty picture." She continued the piston motion with her hand. 
"That's about as dirty as you can get, I would say."

"Not really," I said. "It's hard to make out your clit in that shot.
I wouldn't mind having a nice big picture of your clit, you know?
Maybe if I blew it up to life-size... How about letting me have a
life-size look right now?" I asked. She nodded. I stepped off the
stool, turned and put my hands on her waist. I picked her up, twirled 
her around and sat her down on the counter top. I climbed between her 
legs. She spread them wide, and I pushed up her skirt and pulled her 
panties over to the side, revealing her cunt to my waiting eyes. I dove in.

Well, sort of. I picked up the viewer and put it over her clit. Through
the viewer it looked like the size of a baseball. "Now there's a clit,"
I said. "Big, huge, beautiful clitty, right here in front of my face.
Hmmm. And look at this cunt! I know..." I took the viewer and inserted
it into the hole I had revealed. I bent down and put my mouth on her
man in the boat while I moved the viewer back and forth in her cunt.
She threw her head back. I made a show of trying to look through the
viewer into her cunt, but it was so smeared with her juices that I
really couldn't see anything. I took out the viewer and inserted my
finger, then two fingers. She began to rock back and forth, using
my digits as fuck-sticks, my mouth as an eggbeater against her clit.

"Let me see another picture," she cried. Without moving my head,
I reached around and grabbed another sheet. I didn't know which one,
it was whichever my hand found first. She took it, and picked up the
viewer from between her legs. "Ah, this thing smells like my cunt,"
she said. "Boy that's powerful." She tried to wipe it off on her 
bunched up skirt. "Now here's one. I can see Bob in the background
and from the camera angle you're still crawling around looking up
my dress at my pussy. I think this was just before I turned around
and bent over..." She paused, but the rocking continued. "Yes, yes.
Here it is. This is just before... wait. There's one of Bob taking
his dick out of his pants. Oooo. You were supposed to hide my 
face from these porno shots. Oooo. A little faster, please."
Now she was giving instructions along with the commentary!

"Yes, here's one where he's putting his dick in my mouth. Oh god,
this is so good. Hmm. And here's one where you're starting to walk
up behind me. I can tell from the angle. You must have been just a
foot or two behind me for this one. Did you have your dick out, yet?"
My mouth was busy.  I couldn't answer.  "God, you totally surprised me
when you reached around and grabbed my tits. But then I was even
more shocked when I felt your cock pushing against my pussy."

Her rocking became violent. "And then, I remember, you were pushing
your dick into me. Pushing your dick into me. Pushing. Pushing." My
lips felt the onrushing heat from her vagina, and I knew she was about
to come. I continued pounding her cunt with my fingers and sucking
at her clit with my lips. With my one remaining hand I reached up
and squeezed her tit, feeling her solid nipple through the thin gauzy
material of her soaked bra. It was enough to send her over the edge.
She came with a thundering climax, and my face was soaked with her
wetness. I continued to kiss lightly at her, then allowed my lips
to wander to her swollen cunt lips. Her breathing began to slow down
and become more regular. Finally, it appeared she was back to normal. 
I mean as normal as you ever are after one of those.

"Wow, that was great," she said. "But look at you. Now we can't just
leave you like that, can we?" It took me about a nanosecond to agree.
"Here swing around." She pushed me back on the stool, took hold of
one of my knees and swung me around as though I were sitting on a
piano stool. She knelt in front of me.

She stared at my dick, and said "So that's what he looks like." She
stroked it gently with her hand. "You know, the whole time you were
fucking me on Saturday, I never saw this beautiful cock. You snuck
up on me from behind, and all I could think about was 'I'm getting
fucked by a dick I've never even seen.' It was a real turn-on. So
here it is. What a nice dick. Nice." She petted it as though it
were a small animal.

She continued "Now why don't you take one of those contact sheets
and tell me what you like while I get to work down here." I needed
no further encouragement.

"I like this one," I said. Her hand made a fist around my hard-on.
"In this one you can see right down your blouse..." Her hand started
pumping as she formed her lips into a small circle and took the head
of my dick between them. "And I'm looking at your tits. God do you
have fabulous tits." Her hands released me momentarily as reached up
behind herself and unsnapped her bra. Her rounded globes fell free 
and hung heavily down in front of her; I could see the bra marks
where her boobs had been constrained. I reached down around over
her back and grasped the swinging tit flesh. Her mouth moved further
down on my dick. She began to rock her head back and forth.

Out of the side of her mouth she said "Go on..."

"Oh, right, got distracted. Well, I'm looking at your tits..." I
gave her breast a squeeze. "And, lookee here, up under your skirt...
Why it's such a pretty little cunt. Oh, what a cunt. CUNT. PUSSY.
BOX. SNATCH. What kind of dirty little girl would sit with her knees 
apart and let some man look at her cunt like this?  What a nasty girl." 
This was getting good, now. She increased her sucking.
"I'm remembering what it was like to have my dick in your hole."

She moved her mouth off my dick for a second to say "Would you like
to put your dick in my snatch again?"

"You bet," I answered.

"Oh, that's too bad," she said, "because I was hoping I could give
you a nice blow job." She turned her head up and looked at me. She 
winked.The head of my dick stayed half-way in her mouth. "Oh and 
I was thinking of tit-fucking you, too. I'm pretty sure you'd like that."

With that she moved back and raised herself up and put my dick between
her tits. As she used her hands to push her mounds together, I felt
the softness of her breasts now pushing gently against my hard-on.
My dick was aimed right at her face as my balls scraped along the
valley between the hills. She formed a perfect tunnel and began bouncing
up and down. My throbbing cock kept disappearing and reappearing between
her jugs. The head came close to her lips, but I couldn't quite reach,
in spite of my hardness. She looked up into my face and smiled.

"Oh my god, this is great," I said. "Don't stop."

"But I really wanted to give you a blow job," she said, her eyes
twinkling. "I know, tell me when you're getting ready to come." She
continued bouncing, drawing my dick forward and back through the softness
of her tits. It wasn't another 30 seconds before I felt myself starting
that awful climb. I wanted it to last forever, and I wanted to blow
my load all over her chest now. I said, "I'm getting there. Look out."

Looking out was apparently the last thing she wanted to do. She quickly
moved back and grabbed my enraged tool and put it deep in her
mouth. "I like it," she mumbled around the sides of my dick. "Let
me have it." She sealed her lips around the flesh of my manhood and
began sliding them back and forth. One of her hands came up and gently
cupped my balls. I could feel the warmth of her palms as she massaged
my hanging sacs. Meanwhile she was using her mouth to fuck my
cock, and it was only a few more seconds before I felt myself explode.

She continued sucking and clawing at me as I felt spurt after spurt
of jism erupt.

Now sometimes you make a lot of spunk and sometimes you make a little.
This time I could have filled a pitcher, but she took it all. 
Wave after wave, spasm after spasm, I felt my cum coat her mouth
and tongue. She greedily took it, swallowing several times to get
the gooey mess down her throat.

When I opened my eyes, she was still staring at my dick, and said,
"Wow, I wish I had a picture of that."

"Believe me I'll be glad to make you one. But you'll have to come
by to make sure the enlargement is the right size."

"Yeah, I seem to have an enlarging effect on you," she joked. We
surveyed ourselves and decided we needed to clean up.

We both went upstairs to wash off the sweat and spunk, and as I used
the washcloth to clean her, I asked "So do you think you could stop
by again, sometime?"

"Sure," she said. "But I think we should invite Bob, too. I like
to make it a family thing. Maybe next time we'll do some REAL dirty 
pictures, you know?"

I knew.




If you liked this story, e-mail me at Bannerboy1@aol.com. I have others.
You can borrow them, as long as you promise to give them back.  Try to
keep them dry.

I like getting comments.  You can respond to M1KE HUNT@aol.com.  If
you're typing in the address, please note that the second character in
"M1KE" is a "one" (1) not an "eye" (I).  

I use two addresses.  It's complicated.  But I hardly expect a schmuck
like you to understand, much less care. My accountant advised me to
do it.  It has something to do with not being arrested in Indiana, or 
something. Actually, I don't understand it either. I just do it.

-- 
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| story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |
| Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |
\ <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/>    .../assm/faq.html> /