Message-ID: <6243eli$9802201517@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
From: losgud <lushgod@hotnomail.com>
Subject: <*>NEW STORY--The Substitute
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Reply-To: see@iglou.com, end@iglou.com, note@iglou.com
X-Nntp-Posting-User: [unauthenticated]
Path: qz!not-for-mail
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Original-Message-ID: <34EC9D41.7CC7@hotnomail.com>


=========================
The following work is pure fiction.  All people, places & situations are 
complete fabrications of my imagination.  Any resemblance is wrong.  
Content includes GRAPHIC SEX.  If your laws state that you are too 
young to be reading this, grow up and change those laws.  Until then, 
duh, go wild in your own head.

©1998 losgud.  These words belong to me.  Don't fuck with them.  Write 
your own.  NO for-profit use, reposting, archiving [other than a.s.s.m & 
Deja News] etc.  Read, download, share with a friend.  Consider 
unauthorized inclusion in a personal web site as an infringement of 
copyright.
=========================
M/F  Inc-in-law  Con  Hum
NOTE:  Fix yourself a big bowl of popcorn for this one.  A losgud-
length record.  Damn, I forgot to include an intermission.  I must be in 
training for the marathon.  If you don't like narrative-for-narrative's-
sake, don't read/review this one.  Otherwise . . . Enjoy!
EXTRA NOTE:  A standing ovation goes out to Coyote Azure for grand 
enthusiasm and great editing.  This story would have been much 
clunkier without all the fine input.  Again, thanks!



THE SUBSTITUTE


"Would you please get Anne out of my house!?"

Rather uncharitable of my mother-in-law, I thought, but a perfectly 
understandable remark given the context.  The whole of the afternoon, 
and all through dinner, Anne had been a total bitch to her mother.

Barbara rolled her eyes.  Time for my wife to play Ms. Mediator again.  
I could see her irritation level was up.  When Barbara got angry, she 
flushed from the neck down.  Even with the top several buttons on her 
blouse undone, there was no end in sight.  The warm red of the rash 
was heightened by the cool light blues and greens of the cloth.

I felt trapped there in the kitchen while all the pots came to a boil.  It 
was like I wasn't supposed to be there, as though I was eavesdropping.  
But at least I had a sense of being part of the proceedings. 

"Do something, _any_thing!  Say it's time for me to get some quality 
bonding time with my granddaughter!  Tell her you want to keep your 
mother off Death Row for premeditated murder!"  She moved her hand a 
little too close to the knife block.

Barbara looked to me.  "Care to hang out with me and my sister over at 
her place for awhile?"

I turned to my mother-in-law.  "Am I correct in assuming that bonding 
will involve you and Stephie and Barney?"

"And don't forget Baby Bop," she gave a dangerous grimace.

That question answered, I answered Barb's.  "Sure.  Great.  Sounds like 
fun to me."

I did make note to know what the topic was if I was ever not a part of 
a whispered kitchen conversation.  But Anne hadn't married into this.  
It seemed impossible that she could be unaware of the same.  But when 
we all went back into the livingroom, she looked up from the floor with 
a bright oblivious smile.  Maybe she was too caught up in play to have 
considered the huddle in the kitchen.

I was surprised that Anne still had some patience left in the reservoir.  
While being a cute, quick and generally agreeable kid, Stephie was still 
at the age where she was convinced that the whole of the universe 
existed solely for her own personal satisfaction.  They had all those 
goddamn plastic horses out, which, I supposed, held Anne in the trance 
of a flashback.  It almost made me queasy, how clear an image I had of 
Anne-the-little-girl cantering her herd of yore around.  

I'd probably stolen the image from an old photo album.  The only real 
difference was that age had filled out the knobby bare legs of her 
corral, and now they were sheathed in thin black cotton pants.  The 
pants played nicely against her pull-over top, which I'd been admiring 
all day.  It was a deep raspberry color I found intensely appealing.  I 
would have killed for that shirt but for the feminine piping at the 
seams.  Nor was the scalloped neck really my style.

The question I dreaded the most:  "Daddy, will you play horsies with 

me?"

Think of Wayne-the-little-boy, surreptitiously biting the hooves off all 
his sisters' horsies.  Given my lifelong love of horses, I really was the 
worst companion for such play.  Of course Stephie would consign me the 
mangiest of the lot, and then get furious when I didn't play the way 
she wanted me to play.  My horsies never wanted to go galloping across 
the plains performing dangerous deeds and heroic tasks.  My sad lot 
were resigned to trudging slowly off to the dogfood factory.

Evil of me, true, but it had earned me last-resort status.  Whereas Anne 
was ready to romp for hours.  She looked around wildly after Barb 
informed her the three of us were going over to her place.  "What?  
Why?  But I'm having fun!"

"The ghouls from the glue factory are out on the loose, hunting in 
packs," I chirped in, ignoring the glowering glances I gathered.  "Time 
for all good horsies to be back in the stable, fast asleep."  _Shameless!_  

Shameless as well, Barbara and her mother were furiously whispering 
while the pair of them looked askant down at Anne.  Judgment 
pronounced, they traded big smug smiles.

Anne still looked a bit lost.  Lacking the blood ties, I wasn't lacking 
patience with her petulance.  Not quite yet, anyway.  I leaned down and 
intoned in her ear, "It's time for the arrival of the fat friendly dinosaur 
and all his evil friends."

I quickly straightened up, trying to keep the surprise off my face.  If 
she hadn't been sitting on the floor bent at the waist . . . and I hadn't 
been leaning from behind to whisper . . . I certainly never would have 
called the neckline of her shirt immodest.  But there, in that brief flash, 
I clearly saw that Anne, like Barbara, didn't favor wearing a bra in an 
informal setting.

"Not the Barney tapes!" she gave a mock shudder.  Anne was 
immediately on her feet.  "Stephie, thanks for letting me play horsies 
with you!"

I glanced around to see if anyone had seen me seeing what I had seen.  
Several of the horses seemed to be grinning at me, but otherwise the 
indiscretion appeared to have gone unnoticed.

In the next instant the three of us were crunching down the gravel 
walk to the driveway.  I was left to provide the applause for my own 
genius since no one else would.  Not only had I gotten us out the door 
and on our way in a flash, but it'd been accomplished before Stephie 
had had time to react.

For the drive over I sat in the backseat alone.  It was like some sort of 
futuristic mode of entertainment.  There was the drone of the chatter in 
the frontseat, the syllables of which never quite made it intact to my 
domain.  The red and amber flashing of taillights in front of us, white 
headlights darting at us from the front and sides, the blues and 
oranges of the sodium- and mercury-vapor street lights, and the whole 
rainbow of lights from the stretches of businesses and institutions along 
the way; all these amazing lights distorted by the traveling fishbowl 
effect of the car windows.  I particularly enjoyed the stroboscopic 
effect of watching Barb and Anne as they turned their heads to each 
other during the conversation, that low level hummy sort of buzz us 
backseaters overhear and call language.

Once we got to the apartment, I quickly claimed the only real chair in 
the room, a modern ergonomic thing by the computer.  It was a 
sensitive piece of machinery.  In flopping myself down, I nearly wound 
up zipping across the room and crashing through the wall.  Barbara and 
Anne were quite content to flop down on opposite ends of the collection 
of covered floor cushions that served as a sofa.

I carefully scooted my wheeled seat closer but to no avail.  Barbara and 
Anne continued their conversation, old family stuff in such a code I 
might as well have been in the backseat.  I sat there smiling, listening 
vaguely, reminding myself that I was having a better time than if I'd 
stayed behind.  Though if I had I would have retreated to the guest 
room with a book.  Strictly to avoid interfering with the quality time, of 
course.

Major on my mind was what a grand time I'd be having if I'd just 
stayed home.  These weekend trips to the City of In-Laws were no 
nightmares, but still, given my druthers . . . much _much_ grander still 
if we'd run Stephie over, the two of us returning home for a weekend 
alone!

>From my vantage I realized I'd taken the wrong seat.  I would've fit 
nice and snug between them on the ersatz sofa, or cuddled up against 
Barbara if she'd been in the middle.  There she was, my lovely wife, 
slumped down in the cushions.  The slope displayed her draped breasts 
to a fine advantage, and gravity had her legs casually splayed.  Even 
encased in a somewhat dowdy blouse and relaxed-fit jeans, this was not 
a sight I needed to be seeing in the company of others.  We were 
passing through a very busy month or so, and my affair with my own 
hand had grown rather tiresome.  The more I stared at Barbara the 
more the stash of cash in my wallet was burning a hole in my pocket.  
It was surely enough for a bed in a room at a low-budget chain.  My 
wife, without child by her side!  Break her out of this maternal mode 
she kept getting stuck in.  A few hours of good clean fun.  And hey, 
the night's paid for.  We'd be partners in crime again.  Old reliable car 
trouble.  Nothing like an overnight miracle to recharge a few batteries!  
_Let's ditch Anne and go fuck like crazy!_

My telepathic powers, per usual, were malfunctioning.

I shifted my attentions to Anne to calm down.  She was, when _she_ was 
calm, a genuinely likable person.  But she was currently trying to fast-
track a PhD program.  Student-teaching, taking classes, roughing out 
her dissertation, plus odd-jobbing the freelance stuff that paid the 
bills.  No wonder she was nearly crazy.  I pitied my mother-in-law for 
living in the same town, and thus becoming the sounding board for all 
of Anne's bitchy frustrations.  Besides her mother, Anne's social life was 
her cat, a rather psychotic thing I'd seen once in a darting flash.  As 
well, in my diagnoses--which I kept strictly to myself--I imagined that 
her sexual life didn't stray too far from the familiarity of her own 
friendly fingers.  Which, as I well knew, could get to be quite a bore.

I had to turn my attentions away from her!  She lay there sprawled in 
nearly an identical position as Barbara.  Anne was a slightly different 
flavor, but she was still basically the same genetic milkshake.  I was 
ready to go back and comfort myself by slurping up the infantile images 
on the television screen!

Right then the phone rang somewhere behind me.

Both sets of eyes turned in my direction.  Not looking at me, but there 
I sat in the line of vision.  I sort of crossed my arms in my lap.  I 
didn't have a raging erection, but there was definitely less blood 
available to my brain than usual.

Anne got up to get it, passing directly by me to where it sat next to 
the computer.  I swiveled and scooted in my wonderchair to give her 
less of a detour.  In my sensitized state I could smell her as she 
swished by.  It wasn't an ornate or complicated odor, nothing innately 
sexual, just the good clean scent of a woman.  Enough to nearly throw 
me from the chair.  Down boy, down!

The chair was nearly brand new and ridiculously well-lubricated.  My 
tiny twist and push sent me almost to the sofa, twirling a full 180 
degrees.  I watched Anne on her trip across the room.  My god!  They 
can observe others, they can see themselves in fitting mirrors, but no 
woman can ever know how truly delicious she is to watch walking away.

Quickly I caught myself and turned back to Barbara.  A little smile was 
playing across her face.

"I uh, wow, these damn chairs, they oughta put brakes on 'em!"

Barb laughed.  "I think you're supposed to put the brakes on 
_yourself_."

I just stared.  It seemed like a good time to keep my mouth shut.

She leaned up and lowered her voice.  "Hadn't you noticed before?  
You're hardly the first guy to realize what a cute ass she has.  Don't 
worry!  I'd think there was something wrong with you if you _didn't_ 
appreciate the view."

Actually I happened to be appreciating a different view at the moment.  
Barb guessed this without looking down; keeping her eyes on me she 
reached and tugged the neckline of her shirt out and down even 
further.  Nipple alert!    

"Stop it!" I hissed.

She snickered and gave me a playful swat that sent me, literally, 
spinning in circles.

After answering the phone, Anne's tone had quickly lost its brightness.  
She held the receiver out towards us, "It's Mom--something about 
Stephie?"

Barbara and I exchanged high-browed looks of surprise.  I was scared 
to try and get out of the chair; before I could, Barb was on her feet 
and walking across the room.  There went another fine sight!  But I 
couldn't really follow it.  The air was fairly crackling with concern.  
And the way Anne was turned, she would have seen the smoke pouring 
out my ears.

Barbara wasn't doing much talking, but her expression grew grave.  
Anne's arms started an agitated flapping, as though she couldn't stand 
not being on the phone herself hearing the whole story.  The whole 
story seemed to take forever to tell.  Barb backed up and settled her 
bottom against the desk while Anne took to canting back and forth on 
her hips.  Eventually, Anne shrugged and walked across the room.  She 
sank down in front of me, sitting on her heels and resting her hands 
on her knees.    

Her look was so serious as she whispered, "I wonder what's wrong?"

I shrugged and dropped my eyes just long enough to see the danger of 
the situation.  I didn't want to be rude and look at the top of her head, 
but her gaze was too intense for me to comfortably hold.  Which didn't 
leave me many options.  That damn shirt!  I caught a glimpse of the 
formative swells of her breast, rapidly rising and falling with the 
excited pace of her breath.  I settled instead on looking past Anne, 
around her, letting my gaze come to rest on Barb.  I'd get to the 
bottom of this mystery using my profound supernatural powers

"Oh," I finally hazarded a guess to give myself something else to do, 
"Stephie probably spilled a nearly invisible drop of grape juice on her 
very favorite nightgown."

If it wasn't that, it was probably something just like that.  Whatever it 
was, I was glad for the excuse to get out of there.  This dwelling on 
the physical attributes of the opposite sex was going to get me in 
trouble.  My mind had many more than just the one track, but it wasn't 
willing to concede the fact when stuck in a room with two gorgeous 
examples of the gender in question.

Anne looked stunned by my response.

"It happens!" I asserted.  "Sure, I thought trial-and-error was a tried-
and-true form of learning but this'll make the third time this week.  
She insists on using a grown-up glass too wide for her hand, she 
insists on pouring it so full the meniscus is floating above the actual 
rim, she insists on not sitting at a table, she insists on holding the 
glass in one hand while she uses the other for play.  And she 
insistently--I mean _con_sistently--spills on herself.  But only when 
she's wearing the only nightgown she'll wear.  And it's always one drop 
so small you wouldn't even see it if she didn't point it out.  Lucky for 
your mom she has that washer and dryer--the crisis will be over within 
an hour without leaving the house."

How much more of a monster could I make myself appear?  Why stop 
with one foot--hell, let me cram the entire leg in my mouth.

Fortunately Barbara saved me from further embarrassment by coming 
away from the phone wearing a very grim expression.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Your daughter."

"What's wrong?" Anne demanded, getting to her feet.

"A little girl wants her Mommy," came her curt reply.

"What is it? what is it?"  Anne wouldn't let off.  

"Stephie fell asleep in front of the tube, and then slipped into an 
intensely frightening nightmare."

"Yea, Barney does that to me all the time," I quipped.

"It was an epic horror involving the slaughter of horses," she glared at 
me.

Having the two of them standing there in front of me made me feel even 
smaller in my seat.  "Oh boy," I replied, moving to get up, "I guess I 
better go clean up my mess."

"A little girl wants her _Mommy_," Barbara stated in her sweetest voice.  
I knew not to be tempted.  The tone was the frosting on a display 
window cake; one bite would break a tooth on the plaster.  "Besides, I 
can just see you trying to console her.  _It's okay honey, think how 
happy it made all the dogs._"

"Well, it's the same as that Great Circle of Life crap all those cartoon 
animals are always spouting off about."  

I stood up to go, remembering that it really wasn't a simple matter of 
one of us going into the other room to play the Comforter.  

Barbara looked at me queerly.  "Relax.  Sit down.  I'm going, _case 
closed_."

"But, um, I thought, you know . . . "  My hands dipped and twirled and 
shook in elaborate gestures that, really, clarified nothing.  I was quite 
the master of inarticulation.

"Oh?  Oh, no no," she comprehended at last.  "I plan to be right back.  
She'll probably be fast asleep by the time I get there."

That explicated I decided to sit back down.  I chose the sofa.  I was 
having no more of _that_ chair!

There was that full minute where Anne and I both stared at the door 
after it closed.  After that we had to turn to each other.  And then 
began the Great Deadly Lull.  In departing, Barb had taken the certain 
dynamic of her presence that generally allowed us to have easy 
conversations.  

Anne slunk over and sat herself in the crazy chair.  The damn thing 
barely budged.  She swiveled my way, precisely.

This was not good.  I was stuck in the same place, and in the same 
mindset.  The only changes were that the one woman--my wife--had left, 
and that I'd switched seating with the other woman--my wife's sister.  
And my mission--should I choose to accept it--was to invent 
conversation when I was quickly feeling very quiet.  Matters were not 
helped by the fact that I was basically sitting on the floor.  With Anne 
sprawled in the chair in front of me, my level-headed gaze fell right 
between her open thighs. 

"It could've been grape juice," I whined.

"But it wasn't," Anne countered.

True, true.

"Nice weather we're having," I attempted, clasping my hands in my lap.

"For winter," she shrugged.

I gave up and studied my hands.  I glanced up at the overhead fixture, 
then I turned my attention to the window in the adjacent wall.  The 
minutes were gorged as hours.  Years later Anne rolled back a bit, then 
stood up.  "I'm going to make a cup of tea.  Would you like one?"

"Sure!" I grasped.

And, I admit--secret shameless bastard that I am--I stared at her 
behind until the turn into the kitchen swallowed the sight.  A cute ass 
indeed.

_Calm down!_ I scolded myself.  The potential for big trouble was 
definitely arising.  Barbara might not have minded my helping myself to 
a little look, but geez!  You're in your apartment with your brother-in-
law while your sister is off comforting your sweet little niece, and the 
jerk can't keep his eyes off you.  _What a creep!_

The creak of the old tap, the splatter of water, the rattle of the kettle 
and the clicking of mugs.  _Bang_ on the stove, _clunk_ on the counter, 
_slam_ goes the cabinet door.  A nice long medley of safe unsexy 
sounds.  I was fast back in control, returned to the status quo.  I had 
Anne placed back in the proper compartment.

The kettle gave a scraggly old whistle, and nearly immediately Anne was 
back in the room.  She was carrying the cat, not cups.

"Look who I found."  Anne's smile was broad and proud as she brought 
the cat over to me.

"Well hi, sweetheart."  I never could remember its name.  I'd known the 
damn thing since Anne got it as a kitten, so it was years too late to 
ask.  _Enna_, that was one name I'd given it.  _Lunatic_ was another.  

The cat was a mutt, but some exotic forebear was definitely trying to 
show through.  It really was a gorgeous creature, a silvery sort of 
white with smoky hints of markings.  The eyes were this amazing 
iridescent sort of baby-blue with violet undertones.

I reached out to stroke it.  "Pretty pretty," I crooned.  

As usual, it flinched.  "Wah!"

"Oh, you big baby!" 

I tried again.  I wanted it to cry again.  I loved the color of its mouth 
combined with the blues and greys.  _Princess Pink Mouth_ was another 
name.

Anne knelt down and practically crawled between my outstretched legs, 
insisting that I hold the cat in my lap.  She was beaming.  _Love me, 
love my cat._  I grinned back, "Gosh, this is more I've seen of it than 
in all the past two years."  The transfer was effected, not that the cat 
was at all happy about it.  The thing was trembling in my arms.

But this was not a good situation to be in.  I had this squirming weight 
pressing against my crotch.  A pretty face was hovering barely a foot 
from mine.  And our hands, not touching, but so close together, 
stroking the soft fur.  Petting a cat is a very sensuous experience, and 
sharing it with someone . . . well, it was like having some sort of 
unusual sex.

The cat exploded!

I didn't even see where it went.  It just flew up in the air, and then 
Anne tumbled into my lap, the top of her head clipping my cheek.  
"Ow!" I shouted.

She quickly scrambled up, rubbing her scalp, "Oh what?  I'm sorry!"

"Oh no, it's not that."  I was staring at my arm.  A trio of welts were 
forming, raising up, blushing, each splitting to bubble up a crimson 
line.

"_Oh no!_" she exclaimed.  Before I could react she was holding my 
hand in hers.  She used the index finger of her other hand to trace 
lines parallel to the scratches, stopping to poke at my arm around the 
welts.  Such a simple touch, but it was driving me nuts!  "Those look 
angry," she declared, "we better do something about them."

_Uh uh!_  I was not about to let Anne go into nurse-mode.  "Oh, that's 
nothing, really, it's okay, they don't even hurt.  Little soap and water 
maybe, paper towel or something to blot them with.  Hey, what about 
that tea anyway."

"Oh yea," she brightened.

Excellent diversionary tactic!

I followed Anne into the kitchen.  It was a tiny, narrow space.  There 
was barely room for us both to fit, me at the sink and her the counter 
opposite.  Knowing Anne I should have guessed that the tea was a 
complicated business.  The process involved tea-balls and loose leaf, an 
exact steeping time, then a pinch of another type of tea.  A little lemon 
did not involve a quick squirt from that magic plastic one.

The whole time I was washing my arm, rinsing with peroxide, and drying 
off, Anne was directly behind me.  We were bumping butts every fifteen 
seconds.

"Oops, excuse me."

"Sorry!"

"This really is an _intimate_ kitchen, isn't it?"

Then she started exaggerating.  "Boom-boom," she'd call out, and then 
_boom-boom_ it would be.

But I was trying to press on the damn cuts.  Otherwise they kept 
trickling.  "Do you mind?"

"Not at all!"  _Boom-boom!_

"Come on!"  I reached for another paper towel.

"Okay!"  _Boom-boom!_ 

"Anne!  I'm doing that compression thing!  Gentle, or I'll bleed to death 
in your sink."

She answered with a very gentle little _boom_ indeed.  Then she made a 
little sucking sound.  "Mmm!  Usually I don't indulge but sometimes I 
need some sweetness."

What?  Whatever!

"Would you like a drop of my very special honey?"

I about fell through the floor!  "Would you like a taste?"  She came 
around my side with a spoon of something thick and dark and barely 
liquid, then showed me the jar.  Okay, honey to sweeten the tea.  But 
not the runny stuff that comes in a plastic squeeze bear.  A raw honey 
from the nectar of a special flower that grew only in one small patch 
somewhere on the other side of the world.  One drop because one drop 
would be a full dollop.

"Here," she flicked her tongue out at the spoon, "just the tip of your 
tongue.  It's very strong."  I'd been ready to open wide and say ahhh.  
Bad enough to be fed, but to have to expose my tongue--that implied 
something too sensual.  "Go on, have a taste, it's really good."  Eh, get 
it over with!

Hey, good enough, strong yes, a distinct nearly smoky flavor.  Funny 
honey.  Hell yea, stir some in.  It was going to be a cup of weird 
tasting stuff anyway.  I rarely drank tea, and when I did it would be 
three bags of grocery brand garbage and two spoons of sugar let set 
for about fifteen minutes--ersatz coffee.

I finally managed to staunch the bleeding.  We took our cups back into 
the livingroom.  Anne took the psycho chair, leaving me glad to have 
the faux sofa to myself.  We smiled at one another over our cups of tea.  
The honey did help.  The brew smelled sort of like--kindred in taste as 
well, I guessed--the water in a vase after you've tossed out the cut 
flowers you kept too long.  To my health and my hostess!

"Well?" Anne smiled.

"Well?" I smiled.

"The tea?"

"Great!  Really.  Truly."  

"So?"

"Yea?"

This was awful!  Fucking painful.  I doubt I was the only one in the 
room wishing Barbara a swift return.

"Would you like to meet some interesting people?"  What? like she had a 
bunch of them stashed away in the closet?

"Sure, sounds great!"  Maybe I should flap my arms and fly home to my 
town, call up some friends?  Maybe she was going to suggest I step out 
the door and keep walking until I found some?  The awkward fault was 
entirely my own--I was feeling supremely dull.

Anne was busy tapping away at the computer.  "Come on," she called.  I 
stood up with a groan, feeling old and weary, and went over.  There 
wasn't a comfortable compromise between standing and squatting.  I 
chose the latter simply because I felt less towering.

She was apparently hooked up into some sort of fancy chat room--she 
tossed off some acronyms that made me think of dirty cows--that 
involved a castle setting and everyone parading around in period 
costumes bearing fake names and unlikely personas.  

"This is real time," Anne announced.  Hardly the description I would 
have used.

She led us through a bunch of noisy rooms out into a quiet garden, 
prattling all the while.  Those in the know knew the proper commands.  
By looking under a forsythia bush she pulled out a hand mirror.  Held 
up at the proper angle one would see a turret window.  Look in the 
window.  Then we were in the turret room, which seemed to be as cozy 
as a mansion.  That's where all her friends hung out.

"Oh look, there's Laura."  I knew the name from discussions between 
Barbara and her mother.  Laura was an old friend of Anne's from way 
back.  _Princess Prescience_ I believe she was calling herself.  
_Princess Pretentious_ seemed more appropriate.

They went chattering away.  My mind drifted, focusing on nothing 
specific.  _Always be polite_, I reminded myself, singing the refrain of a 
childhood admonishment.

Suddenly Anne was poking at my shoulder.  "Get on up here!  Laura 
wants to say hello."  The chair was not made for two, but she scooted 
over enough for me to sit down beside her.

		>"Hello Shrouded One!  How goeth things with thou?"

"Shrouded One?  What's that?"

"I had to give you a name."

I was supposed to put my fingers on the keys and type out an answer:

		>"Well, here I sit with Anne's thigh pressed against mine 
		>and it's sort of giving me a hard-on I don't really 
		>want.  And of course I'm allegedly talking to some 
		>idiot pretending to be Princess Leviathan or whatever."

All I could really think to say was:

		>"An old dog sitting here, learning new tricks I suppose."

Short, to-the-point, and not at all encouraging.  As well I ceased to 
exist.

		>"Ah, lucky Lady you!  I see the Count approaching."  
		>She slips away discreetly in slippered feet.

Ah, the Count!  I felt touched, and intensely saddened.  Anne was 
showing me the extent of her social life.  She didn't have one.  I didn't 
have much of one, but at least when I was in a room with some friends 
the furniture was real.  When they talked I saw their mouths move.

		>Count Samovar rushes Lady Lida into a darkened alcove.  
		>She opens the spigot and fills her cup with his tea.

"Lady _Lida!_" I exclaimed, "as in famed for close encounters of the 
swan kind?"

Anne blushed, typing furiously.

		>"Not now you don't, George.  Sorry, but I'm giving a tour
		>at the moment."

"This royal Russian tea urn and his spigot--what's he keep talking 
about anyway?"

"His penis."  She didn't bat an eye, or miss a keystroke.

"Oh."  _Oh._  Oh boy.  Oh _my god_.  Her faux social life and sexual life 
were one and the same.  Gave a whole new meaning to the phrase 
_digital sex_.  Granted, I hadn't had an orgasm in over a month that 
wasn't the product of my five little friends, but geez, at least they 
could concentrate on the business at hand.  They didn't have to go 
wander away and type descriptions of what they were trying to do.  
Fer crissakes!  A computer as a jack-off prop?

My mind was whirling.  I was having to think about all sorts of things I 
didn't want to think about.  The image of Anne sitting in this very 
chair creaking the casters.  Did they concoct an entire torrid encounter, 
then kick back and get off while proofing it?  Or did they really jump 
back and forth, Anne alternating cunt strokes with keystrokes?  _Pump 
pump, tickaticka, pump pump?_  Wouldn't that gunk up the keyboard?

I was spared further thoughts by the ringing of the phone.  Wait a 
minute--the phone, _ringing_?

"How does that happen?" I asked.

Anne looked at me as if I was a moron, which, of course, I was.  "I 
have two lines." 

The phone was on her side of the computer so she answered it.  It was 
_her_ phone, so _she_ answered.

"Hi!  Oh yea?  Hold on."  Anne handed the phone over to me.  "It's 
Barb."  She resumed talking away, typing away.

"Thanks."  Two lines and all this technology, but she didn't have a 
cordless phone.  It was a delicate balance I was trying to strike--
keeping the cord out of her way without falling out of my half of the 
chair.  I gave it up and got to my feet.

"Hey Barbara.  What's up?  How's Stephie?  When are you heading 
back?"

"Sorry, Wayne, I'm not.  I won't be able to make it back tonight."

"What?  What are you talking about?"

"Well, much as I'd like to be out having adult fun, and though it's not 
at all my fault, I seem to be stuck here with a very frightened and 
very awake little girl."

"Oh, yea, right, sorry."

"A very clingy, demanding, exhausting little girl."

"Okay, I take your point.  But can't you leave her with your mom for a 
minute?  Or strap her in the carseat?"

"So clingy, demanding and exhausting that, sorry, I'm on my second 
glass of wine.  Glass?  Perhaps I should say _tumbler_."

"Okay.  How about your mom then.  Can't she come get me?"

"Well, I've got her blocked in the drive.  And she was well into _her_ 
second tumbler when I got back."

"What am I supposed to do?  Call a cab?  Do you have the money for 
one?"

"No."

There were maybe half a dozen in the whole town, and they charged 
what they wanted.  The last time I'd been along for the visit we'd all 
been over there and Anne had taken one home.  The ten minute drive 
had run her well over twenty bucks.

"Neither do I."  Well, I did have that stash in my wallet, but from the 
brief thought earlier in the evening I'd earmarked it for some future 
romantic interlude.  Beating off in the backseat of a cab was not what I 
had in mind.

"Hello?  Barb?  You still there?"

"Of course," she answered with a trace of annoyance.

"Sorry.  Thought my wife the lovely lush had passed out on me.  So 
what am I supposed to do?  Walk home?  If I get started now, why, I 
should get there in time for breakfast!"

"It's not that long!"

"No, not if you go in a straight line and foolishly don't avoid the 
projects."

"Oh, they're not _that_ dangerous!"

"Listen to you!  Who was reading the crime stats aloud this morning?  
What was it?  One murder, two assaults and three armed robberies?  
Sounds like a fun place to be on a Friday night.  Probably could use 
some fresh blood down there to liven up the Saturday night festivities."

"Okay, Wayne, relax.  Put the squirrels back in the cage.  I mean, just 
stay there tonight.  There's that couch thing, that thing called a couch.  
I'm sure Anne has a spare set of sheets around.  What's the big deal?  
I'll pick you up in the morning."

"Well, she seems sort of busy."

"So I hear.  Has she introduced you to the virtually unreal world yet?"

"Yea yea yea.  But, you know, maybe she doesn't _want_ company."

"Wayne, you are hopeless.  Let me talk to her."

"Okay."  I held out the receiver to Anne, passing on the baton.  "Back 
to you."

I got up to hunt out the bathroom.  That half a cup of tea had turned 
to a gallon in my bladder.

Anne was off the phone and typing like a whirlwind when I returned.   
"So is this okay with you?"

She looked up as though she'd forgotten I was there.  "Huh?"

"Oh.  Um, didn't Barbara say anything to you?"

"Oh yea, right.  That's fine.  But," she gave an apologetic squint, "you 
were right about how busy I am."

"Oh sure, no problem.  I'll stay out of your hair."

"Thanks for understanding--I really do have a ton of work to get 
through tonight."

"Obviously."  She was out of fantasy-land and into the word-processing 
world.  While I'd been in the bathroom, Anne had covered her desk with 
open textbooks and notepads and what looked like an odious stack of 
undergrad essays awaiting the arrival of a red pen.  "That's cool.  
Don't worry about me--I'm the King of Self-Entertainment."

Over by the sofa I stopped to browse a small bookcase.  Most of the 
contents were unfamiliar to me.  I squatted down for a closer look.  
Finally I selected a volume that looked promising.  A slim collection of 
stories put out by a small press I'd never heard of.  _By the Blue Glow 
of the Moon_, by Frances Dragon.  The author name seemed bogus but 
the title didn't scream _stupid_.  The blurb described her stories as 
little prisms, tilting the white light of the everyday . . . some fellow 
authors I didn't recognize praised her work as witty, elegiac, perfect, 
erotic.

I settled down for a wonderful surprise.  The superlatives on the dust 
jacket were not at all hyperbolic.  The stories were tiny prisms carved 
from diamonds.  But the weird thing was that each of these carefully 
constructed stories ended with the characters having vividly realized 
sex!  The words were too graceful, literary, for the work to seem 
pornographic.  But there was none of the wispiness I associated with 
erotica.  The cunts got juicy and the cocks spurted high.  It was all 
very puzzling, and not really the sort of thing I needed to be reading 
at the moment.

"So what struck your fancy?"  I hadn't noticed Anne had stop typing.

Never in my life had I been caught masturbating; I didn't need to have 
been to know the feeling.  I just sort of waved the book.  Why were 
_my_ ears burning?  Fuck, it was _her_ book.

"Oh!" she cried with delight, "you discovered Frances Dragon!  Isn't she 
_wonderful_?  I find her _so-o_ inspiring."

_Inspiring?_  In what way?

Anne ducked her head.  "I mean, I sometimes write saucy stories 
myself," she waved an arm at her desk, "when I have the time."

"It's just kind of strange," I ventured.  "She could be getting ten 
thousand a pop from the _New Yorker_ if she didn't get so graphic."

"That's the point.  She doesn't care about the money, she gets graphic, 
and her stories are better than almost anything in the _New Yorker_."

True enough.

"It's like some of the writers on the newsgroups," she turned back to 
the screen, talking and typing away.  "Some of them are truly amazing.  
There's this one guy named Losgud . . . "

What sort of name was that?  A half-baked anagram for _Loser!_?

" . . . his stories are far from perfect, but in a way they're entirely 
perfect.  _Terribly_ funny, these densely woven plots, you read along . 
. . "

Yea, yea, yea, I nearly shot out with a smug comment.  Like maybe 
these people might actually _have_ sex if they didn't spend all their 
time writing about sex.  Fortunately I didn't open my mouth.  The 
implications regarding Anne would have been awful enough.  But mostly 
I was slamming myself.  _Oh, so you're Mr. Superior?--in exchange for 
infrequent sex all you do is sit and stew about it!_  I put the book 
back in its place and pulled out an oversized sort of Art-Through-the-
Ages survey.

" . . . and then with a sudden jerk you find yourself immersed in these 
full-throttle sex scenes . . . "

It turned out to be a history of erotic imagery.  There were the 
expected modernist paintings and Greco-Roman statuary . . . I was 
having a hard time concentrating on Anne's prattle, some phrase about 
semi-incestual surprises jumped to the fore without making sense . . . 
but then some amazing pre-Columbian clay figurines from western 
Mexico.

"Isn't that a great book!" she declared, suddenly on her knees in front 
of me.  "Here, let me show you my favorite piece."

She flipped through the pages to a full illustration of a roughly hewn 
hunk of jade depicting a man and a woman in a classic sixty-nine.  
"China, 6th Century B.C.  The whole thing is _so_ tiny.  Check out the 
dimensions," she enthused.  Anne held her thumb and forefinger 
correctly about two centimeters apart.

"Amazing," she sighed, going back to the computer.

There was a fin-de-siècle statuary of a nearly naked woman draped in 
despair over a headstone in a Viennese cemetery.  Primitive but polished 
African wood carvings, viewed from the back, in which the elongated 
torsos rose to the heavens.  I was an Impressionist observing a woman 
at her toilette from behind.  I began thinking about how, in a more 
adventurous era, Barbara would sometimes roll us over, but then pivot 
around to face away as she rode me.  It might not have been the most 
comfortable position, and there was the loss of eye contact, but it was 
always marvelous, while caressing her ass, to watch the pleasure 
rippling up from the base of her spine, her neck tossing and turning, 
the whole of her back in constant undulation.

I turned the page and barked out a laugh.  The photo was of a modern 
piece of public sculpture in a midwestern plaza.  The base was a pair of 
rounded forms clearly suggestive of a womanly behind.  The only other 
element was a thick ship's chain, the links welded in a series of sinuous 
curves ending at nothing fifty feet up in the air.

Anne came to a good stop.  "What's so funny?"

I held the book so she could see.  "Not funny, I mean, isn't this great?"

She smiled and nodded, then turned back to work.

I watched her at work.  The way she would hunch over in 
concentration, then pause, straighten up and flex her spine while rolling 
her shoulders.  I was mesmerized.  It didn't matter the medium, whether 
it was memory or reality, naked or clothed.  How could something as 
utilitarian as a human back be so goddamn sensuous?    

Anne typed for awhile longer, than stood up and went to use the 
bathroom.

I stood up, stretched, then hurried over to the desk.  The words on the 
screen mirrored the action of the pre-Christian Chinese piece, except 
the skin tones weren't green.  I was back on the sofa before Anne 
returned.

I filed the art book away, stretched again and yawned loudly.  Enough 
for one night.  I'd certainly learned some interesting things about Anne 
over the evening, but suddenly the full weight of a long day was 
crushing me.  I yawned again, then curled up on the sofa.  My next 
yawn came as the bellow of some great beast.

Anne swirled around in her chair.  

"I'm sorry," I answered her look weakly, "but I think I'm taking the 
deep dive."

"Oh?  Well . . . I'll be up for awhile yet."

"That's okay.  Should I find some sheets or something?  I don't really 
care."

"Oh no.  I don't want to disturb you, but I've still got a lot of work to 
do.  Why don't you go in and sack out on the bed?"

I thought to protest, but I was too tired for any sincerity.  "Okay."  I 
stood up, gave her a feeble wave, and shuffled away, "See you in the 
morning.  And thanks for everything."

I pulled off my shoes and socks and pants and gladly crawled under 
the covers.  I gave a glance at the door.  I hadn't thought to close it, 
but I couldn't deal with it now.  I didn't want to put in an appearance 
in just my underwear and a t-shirt, but struggling back into my pants 
seemed like too great a chore.   

Even in my exhausted state I knew it'd take me ages to fall asleep.  The 
big bright yellow oblong of light from the livingroom was bad enough 
news.  But mostly it was that irritating _ticka-ticka-ticka-ticka_ of her 
fingers on the keyboard.  Not to mention the strangeness of the 
situation, of lying there in her bed, enveloped in the smells of her, 
while Anne sat in the next room resolutely typing away at a piece of 
high-falutin' pornography.

Obviously, though, I was wrong.  Next I knew, something had jerked me 
awake.  

I lay there in the dark on my side sleepily trying to figure it out, 
finally deciding to just skip it.  Barbara lay on her back barely a foot 
away, and my inclination was to snuggle up to her warmth.  I'd quit 
believing in miracles when I was a child, so I had no expectations of 
arousing any middle-of-the-night reactions other than the soothing way 
stroking the smoothness of her thigh always helped to send me quickly 
back to sleep.

Just before I moved to scoot over an epiphanous cloud burst, drenching 
me with understanding.  A security light somewhere outside sent a set 
of glowing panes through the darkness of the room, illuminating the 
unfamiliarity of it.  Then I remembered being at Anne's.  Her hospitality 
hadn't extended to spending the night herself on the cushions in the 
livingroom.  That was just as well--I would have felt awful in the 
morning, and really the bed was built for two.

Then I became aware of what had disturbed me.  There was a slight 
jiggling motion to the mattress, I could see some movement from under 
the covers, and Anne's breath was coming in ragged little gasps.

I put a hand to her shoulder.  "Are you okay?"  She instantly grew 
stiff.

"Huh?" she replied after a moment.  "I must have been dreaming."

The arm closest to me moved from wherever it had been.  The back of 
her hand came to rest most lightly against a part of me that I hadn't 
noticed was stiff.  I, too, must have been dreaming!

There was a minute of awkward silence during which I realized I had to 
get her hand out of the way.  I reached down and pulled it up.  Just 
as I did, Anne rolled over towards me apologizing, "I'm sorry if my 
tossing and turning woke you up; I've been having a hard time falling 
asleep."

"I thought you said you were dreaming."

"Dreaming of dreaming," she replied right as the smell from the hand I 
held in front of my face hit me.

The full realization was so embarrassing I had no idea what to say or 
do.

It wasn't a problem for Anne.  Her free hand crept over and down, 
barely brushing the length of the bulge in my underpants, turning the 
tables completely.  "Sorry to have disturbed your pleasant dreams."

In the light from the window, I could see Anne's face distinctly.  Hers 
was studying mine.  

I felt her arm shift in my grip, the wrist turning as she bent her head, 
giving her fingers a brief sniff.  Anne looked up at me gingerly from 
under her lowered brow as she shyly moved the fingers to my mouth.  
There could be no refusal.  My lips parted slightly as my tongue 
slipped out to give the offering a tentative lick.  I took just the tips of 
her fingers into my mouth, lapping them lightly.  She inserted her 
fingers further, and I welcomed them in, bathing them with my sworling 
tongue, sucking at her taste.  When she withdrew her fingers I felt 
unstoppered--all the air came out of me in a disappointed sigh.   

Some shifting of natural forces had occurred.  Our mouths were magnets 
of opposite polarity.  Now they slapped together with the distinct 
_clack_ of meeting teeth.  The abrupt contact raised a couple bruises of 
brushing lips.  Soft supple lips.  Wet licked hungry lips.  Desperately 
greedy lips.  Her tongue pushed out to play.  My tongue was ecstatic to 
have a companion.  Our tongues were a pair of lonely moping dogs 
meeting by chance when turned loose for a romp in the park.  

Anne furthered her response by rubbing me all the more firmly.  I 
answered in kind, sliding my other hand down into the dampness of the 
fabric between her legs.  She pulled her face from mine while her hand 
slipped lower still, cupping the pouch containing my balls, massaging 
them with an exquisitely tender pressure.  Her pelvis started thrusting 
against the touch of my hand.

"Are we really going to do this?" she whispered.

It wasn't really a question at all but a statement dressed up as one.  
Was it even possible for us to come to our senses and simply roll away 
to our respective sides of the bed?  We'd already crossed the line.  
While we perhaps hadn't reached a point of no return, even if we did 
turn back, there was no denying that we had danced well beyond the 
established border.

"I see nothing but a long avenue of green lights ahead," I demurred.  

"_Good!_" Anne cozied up firmly against me.    

"But if you think you see one turning red, I'll put on the brakes," I 
felt obliged to add.

"Uh unh," Anne shook her head, "the lights are all stuck.  And my 
brakes gave out about an hour ago."

The time frame seemed all wrong to me.  Surely it had been only five or 
ten minutes since I'd stirred.

"One hint from you," she flicked the tip of my nose with her tongue, 
"and you wouldn't have gone to bed alone."

Always the last to know!

Anne freed her arm from my grip, then sent it slinking downward.  The 
hand wedged its way under my other one; I could feel it like a small 
animal burrowing beneath the surface of her panties until it was 
positioned directly under mine.  Her hips began to gyrate to her own 
touch.

"I was hoping I'd accidentally wake you up.  If I hadn't, I would have 
woken you up anyway, on purpose."

"How?" I rasped, immediately thinking of a dozen delightful ways.

Anne turned coy.  "I'll leave that to your imagination."

"Don't do that," I exclaimed.  "I'll have to go back to sleep just to find 
out."

"Do you think I'd let you go back to sleep now?" she giggled.  

With that she pulled completely away and sat up, leaning over to turn 
on a little lamp perched on the bedside table.  It had a mercifully low-
wattage bulb so the moment of blinding blinks was short-lived.  The 
light had the nice effect of countering the glare of the security sun 
outside while covering us and the surroundings in a luscious patina.  I 
unconsciously licked my lips.  Anne's skin had the golden glow of fresh 
baked bread.  My appetite for her did nothing but grow.  She was a 
full meal all by herself.

As if I wasn't drooling enough, she reached to the hem and pulled off 
her nightshirt.  I couldn't help myself.  I stared and stared and stared 
until she finally waved a hand in front of my eyes.  I lifted my eyes to 
her face.  She was smiling, amused by my reaction.  "I take it you like 
my breasts?"

Breasts are breasts the way apples are apples.  There are dozens and 
dozens of varieties, and within the varieties none are exactly the same.  
It's hard to find a healthy apple that isn't lovely to behold.  Likewise 
very few breasts don't inspire the invitation to be held.  While there 
was a genetic similarity, Anne's breast possessed their own unique 
beauty.  And of course I was mesmerized by a common thread--the thrill 
and thrall of seeing a particular pair of breasts for the very first time.

Anne put on a slow show, her hands reaching up to cup her breasts, 
placing herself on display.  She lifted them, formed them, kneading and 
squeezing and massaging them.  Her fingers traced secret glyphs 
around the nipples, drawing closer across the aureoles.  The nipples 
puckered and stiffened, thrusting out to be touched.  Lightly she 
brushed them, stopping to give gentle tugs, rolling and tweaking them 
to satisfaction.  All the while, her gaze never left me, even as her eyes 
glazed into squints, her breath growing shallow and distracted.

Anne could have left it at that and I would've been quenched.  She 
could have graced me with not another touch.  She could have turned 
out the light, rolled over and gone to sleep.  She could have left me 
alone with my lust.  She could have just stopped cold and still I would 
have counted the night an unqualified success, seeing the future, 
knowing it would become a well-thumbed section in the book of my 
memory.

She could have done all that, _but she didn't!_  Instead she leaned over 
me, biting her lower lip, and grabbed the bottom of my t-shirt.  She 
began roughly wrestling it off me, not waiting for my assistance.  Damn 
near tore my head off in doing so!  She paused right as she was 
getting the twisted bit of cloth up past my forearms, lightly locking my 
arms above my head.

This left us in a position where her breasts were swaying directly over 
my face.  I was getting cross-eyed trying to keep tabs on the both of 
them!  Once she stopped struggling with my shirt they settled down, 
centrifugal force giving way to gravity.  My god, I thought, two breasts 
hanging scant inches above me--why can't I have one in my mouth?!  
Although Anne had left me free to escape, I was enjoying the sensation 
that my wrists were somehow bound by the loose tangle of sleeves.

I wouldn't claim that my telepathic powers had leapt beyond zero, but at 
that very moment Anne twisted slightly and gave her back a downward 
arch.  There wasn't a moment of fumbling.  A nipple descended into my 
waiting mouth, my lips closing around it in an airlock seal.  I thought 
of a module docking flawlessly at a space station, the entire crew at 
Mission Control standing in unison, spontaneously, applauding the 
perfection.

I suckled my enthusiasm until Anne swiveled the other way, trading me 
one breast for the other.  Back and forth she went, until I wanted some 
hands-on experience.  My shackles were but nominal, and my arms shed 
the last of my shirt like a snake finally done with an old skin.  With my 
fingers outstretched, the neglected breast fit perfectly into my hand.  
Briefly I wished against the symmetry inherent in nature, so that I 
could have a pair of handfuls plus a spare for my mouth.

But my hands were restless fellows anyway, and soon they departed for 
a long journey.  Starting at her shoulder blades, they then swept down 
the long luscious curve of her back before coming to rest on the plush 
hillocks of her buttocks.  There they greatly enjoyed the contrast 
between the natural smoothness of her flesh and the slick slices of her 
panties, grabbing whole handfuls of both and squeezing.  One hand 
wandered some more, trailing over around a hip, defying gravity to 
travel across her tummy and down between her legs.

Anne was so wet that the fabric surrounding her crotch felt like it had 
melted away.  There was just enough of a barrier to keep my fingers 
from slipping inside her.  My other hand kept grabbing and squeezing 
her ass.  My tongue continued entertaining the nipple, trying to 
distract it from the fact that the rest of my mouth was trying to 
swallow the breast whole.  I thought we were having a nice round of 
play until suddenly Anne gave an unworldly shriek, her whole body 
shrinking up and stiffening for a full quivering minute until she 
collapsed completely, loosely, on top of me.

I lay there beneath her, unminding of her dead weight, feeling, in a 
word, proud.  Happy.  So incredibly pleased.  Anne could have fallen 
asleep on top of me and again the erotic memory would have been 
complete.  But, again, she didn't.

Eventually she raised herself slightly and studied me with heavily 
lidded eyes.  "I want you in my mouth," she muttered, "I want to 
_suck_ you!"

This involved a bit of squirming around, and in the end my legs were 
pointed towards the heavens in a _V_ for victory as she pulled my 
underwear away from my bottom.  I thanked all the deities I could think 
of that I'd thought to put of a pair of colorful bikinis that morning 
instead of a greying pair of BVDs.  Once loosened she held them to her 
nose, then rubbed them all over her face.

"These are mine now," she declared.  "I'm going to keep them under my 
pillow."  My face, I suppose, was a big question mark.  Anne answered, 
"Girls aren't the only ones who leave the smell of their excitement in 
their underthings."

That was news to me, but I wasn't going to argue!

The unveiling done, she focused her attention of that which had been 
revealed.  I wound up tempted to wave _my_ hand in front of _her_ 
face.  I'd long since given up the notion that I was hung like a super 
stud.  My hammer measured just a little longer the norm, but the 
majority of my successes were determined by taking to heart the adage 
that the most important consideration was not the size of your tool, but 
how you chose to wield it.

But there she squatted, staring at it as though it'd been dropped by 
Thor himself.

Anne then grasped it in both hands, murmuring, "Beautiful, beautiful, 
beautiful," until she lowered her head and made further words 
impossible.

I'd never met a blowjob I didn't like.  But Anne didn't simply stick me 
in her mouth.  She bent down to _worship_ my cock, to _lavish_ it with 
praise.  Every little nibble, every stroke of her tongue was an homage.  
I'd never really considered my penis in such a perspective, as standing 
upright as some sort of holy scepter.  This approach, I suppose, was 
what kept me from blasting away at the first opportunity.  Anne wasn't 
hovering there to get me off, but to give me thanks in advance.

Finally I squirmed away and we tussled a bit.  At some point I rolled 
off the bed completely, landing on the floor with a vague thump.  Anne 
scooted over to check on me.  When I looked up she was seated on the 
edge of the bed.  I grasped her ankles and reared to my knees, tossing 
her to the bed on her back.  What lay before me was exactly what I 
wanted, on full display, covered by a drenched stretch of satin.

I had her panties off in a flash.  "And _these_ are _mine_," I answered 
before tossing them onto the piles of our clothing scattered beside the 
bed. 

I too, I suppose, stopped to gape and gasp at the first sight of her.  
Anne's cunt, in the full flush of arousal, presented itself as a shrine to 
me.  The sight, the smell, and very quickly the taste, had me convinced 
that my trek to the holy land had finally ended.  I reached under and 
grabbed the cheeks of her ass in both hands, then leaned down to 
plunge in.

I ate her as a condemned man would his last meal.  My tongue seemed 
to have freed itself from its roots in my mouth.  My lips became alien 
creatures beyond my control.  Anne came like a madwoman, and I let off 
long enough to just rush back in.  I wanted to be smothered in sex, 
and at last it nearly came to that.       

Eventually her thighs released their grip on my head.  Ah, fresh air!  
Not that I so terribly minded the dank stale air I'd been confined to.  
That intoxicating musky air! 

I rubbed my face all around against her soaking crotch.  Anne gave a 
great shudder, and then I stood up.

A salacious lick of my lips!  "Mmm, what next?  Would you like more of 
that?  Or . . . " I gave my hips a randy twitch, "would you like a little 
bit of this?"

Anne's eyes darted back and forth between my face and the jutting 
display of my other offering.  She exploded in the giggles of a little 
girl in a doll store.  "You expect me to make a decision?!"

Anne's hands drifted down between her legs, her fingers delineating the 
great divide.  Slowly she parted the lips of her sex, pulling them wide 
to the sides, transforming her cunt from a pulpy fruit of passion to a 
crimson and coral colored butterfly.  A stray finger sank into her 
exposed hole.  "What do you think I would like?"

"Uhm . . . for me to go in the other room and give you a little 
privacy?"

"Guess again, goof."

I wasn't in the mood to play Twenty-one Punchlines.  I refused to 
speak.

Anne rocked her pelvis, gave an emphatic nod of her head, then 
declared enthusiastically, "Cock now, please!"

I grabbed my arrow by the shaft and stepped forward, the bull's-eye 
clearly in sight.  We locked eyes as the head slipped inside.  We held 
ourselves at that level of penetration, giggling together as twenty 
fingers danced all over our genitals.  After a long spell of that play 
with no forward motion, Anne's expression turned questioning and she 
began issuing tiny throaty mewls, "Mmm?   Mmm?   Mmm?"

"What?" I feigned puzzlement.  "Didn't you want a _little bit_ of this?"

Her hands slid up my forearms and latched on like leeches.  "No-o!" she 
whimpered, "_I wanna lotta bot!_"  Anne started pulling me forward, but 
hey, I'm human--I bend at the waist!  With a determined expression she 
rocked her hips and swung her legs into a lock behind me and began 
squeezing me towards her.  I tried to resist, but the pressure was too 
great.  So I quit and slid quickly all the way inside her.

Her eyes slammed shut, then sprung wide at the end of the journey.  
"_Oh-h-h-h_, much better now, thank you!"

"_Oh my_," I fairly groaned, "much better, _indeed!_"

There was something about standing there by the side of the bed, 
thrusting away.  Maybe it was the angle of my penetration, the depth 
allowed.  Maybe it was my enthusiasm at the newness, of the position 
and the pussy.  Maybe it sprung wholly from Anne, her response to 
laying there at the edge of her same old chaste bed with her legs held 
up like columns, while I pillaged her pavilion.

She was gone, chanting obscenities describing the pleasures that kept 
wracking her body.  Did I like her hot juicy pussy?  Man, that just 
made me pump all the harder!  Which made her come all over again!

Eventually Anne squirmed and scooted away from me, leaving me with a 
hard-on bobbing and begging in the open air.  But not for long.  She 
crawled to the middle of the bed then stopped, plumping her bottom up 
in the air.  As if the invitation wasn't obvious enough, she crooned, "Do 
me like this." 

I'd never considered myself as an ass aficionado until I first wound up 
in bed with Barbara.  What Anne was presenting was a vivid 
reconfirmation.  That rounded pair of lovely white flesh, with the dark 
damp treasure tucked in just beneath.  I clambered up on the bed and 
gathered myself behind her with the greatest of pleasure.  We sang a 
low song, a long sweet duet as I slid back inside her.

>From that point on my hands didn't know what to do.  There was the 
whole of her wonderful ass to consider, but just as easily I could reach 
under and grant them her breasts.  My fingers could play with her 
pussy if I wanted.  But really, nothing was more erotic than for my 
hands to run up and down the slow slope of her back.  The triangles 
off her shoulders leading down to the swell of her hips.  The line of 
her spine surrounded by so much marvelous flesh.

Every thrust I gave, Anne matched me, shoving back.  I thought we had 
a small audience slowly applauding, the clapping the slapping of our 
meeting skin.  And the other sounds we made, the surging slurps 
defining each stroke.

"Listen to us!" I marveled.

"We're fucking like a pair of animals," Anne grunted back.

I leaned down, "We _are_ a pair of animals, _fucking_."  I nipped the 
nape of her neck.  She gave a squeal.  I immediately started licking the 
spot as Anne tried to buck against me all the harder.

But having me draped over her like this hampered our movements.  
Which was good for me for a couple of minutes.  Once the tension had 
ebbed, however--my footing regained--I was ready to get active again.

I straightened back up and enjoyed the sight of my universe.  The 
naked vistas of pale female flesh.  This vision of womanly nudity, 
naughtity, giving and taking pleasure.  The lovely lushness of a stuffed 
cunt, its seizing squeezing of a long plump cock.  And that cock was 
connected to me!  I was fascinated watching me going in and out of her.  
I pulled almost all the way out, until her lips were just puckering and 
kissing my crown.

"God, Anne, you should see this--it is _so-o sexy_." 

With a contented sigh she lowered her front to the bed.  This pushed 
her rear up even more.  Anne gazed back at me with nearly closed 
eyes, her mouth in an open grin as her tongue darted around the 
perimeter.  Her hands crept up beneath her, surfacing between her 
legs.  She made little chuckling sounds as her fingers swarmed all over 
me, tapping and touching and rubbing and pinching.  I was going blind 
with pleasure!

Anne backed up and slipped me in a little further and then began to 
swivel her hips.  It wasn't until she grasped me firmly, one hand 
gripping the base of my cock while the other reached to cup my 
scrotum, that I understood she intended to get me off right then and 
there, just like that.

"Oh please," I groaned, "not quite yet!"

My plea simply set her all the more resolutely to her task.  Well, if that 
was the way things were going to go . . . I lunged back in full force, 
leaving her hands behind.

Anne drew a sharp breath, then let it back out as a howl.  It was like 
watching a film of a building in an earthquake.  The tremors shook her 
to the foundation; she wavered for a minute, then completely collapsed.

There I was again, cock bouncing in the breeze.  I nearly bit my tongue 
in two to keep from shooting into the open air.

Slowly Anne managed to roll over.  She was clutching herself, legs in a 
tangle.  Did she ever look dazed!  Her head was wobbling as though it 
might fall off.  Then I realized she was trying to shake it.  "Boy," she 
_formed_ each word, "that sure took me by surprise."

She looked up at me with a fuzzy smile, squinting as if I was a great 
distance away, a barely visible apparition.  "I'm sorry, I can't do 
anything.  You turned me to jello.  I'm all fucked out."

I wasn't quite sure what this meant for me.

Anne straightened out.  "But don't stop."  She reached her arms down 
and manually parted her legs, then ran her hands back up her torso 
before extending them towards me.  

I briefly balked.  Well, self-serve sex, that's not high on my erotic list.  
But the only option would be an insult, and hell, I wouldn't be able to 
last but another minute or so anyway.  I lowered myself over her and 
slid back inside.  There now, not so bad, eh?

Almost immediately Anne burst into a fit of the giggles.  "Such a serious 
face," she mimicked.  Then back into the giggles.  She was nearly in 
tears.  It made for some rather interesting sensations down there!  
"_I'm sorry!_  I can't help being silly.  It's your fault.  You're the one 
who fucked me silly."

I decided it best to just plod away and get things done.

"No!" she turned serious.  "Don't move.  Just stay still."  

Anne may have run out of gas, but she had a reserve tank somewhere.  
She started squirming like she was on a swivel stool.  That brought a 
smile to her face.  Mine too!  Then she stopped.  "Like that?"

"Yes ma'am!"

"_Good!_  Now, hold that pose."  She closed her eyes, then squinched 
her face into a grimace.  Such concentration, and to what effect?  She 
gave a grunt, and then _my god!_  Her cunt grabbed my cock at the 
base, and then gave it a squeeze that seemed to ripple up its length.

Anne was beaming at my reaction.  But before I could say a word, she 
did it again.  Instead of grasping for words, I was left gasping for air.  
"I'm going to milk every last drop of come out of that big fat cock of 
yours."

She had hardly set herself to a difficult task!  After the next cunt hug 
there was no doubt it was the penultimate one.  I was hanging by an 
unraveled thread.  Anne was looking very pleased with herself.

"Almost got you on that one, didn't I?" she giggled softly.  "Okay.  
Here we go."  She shifted us slightly so she could palm my balls.  My 
cock lurched at the touch!  "Ready?"  Then rocking her pelvis with the 
count, "Three . . . two . . . one . . . "

My eyes grew wide as I felt my cock swell.  Her eyes grew wide as she 
felt my cock swell.  Then I saw nothing but the darkness of outer 
space, stars swirling all around.

At last I returned to earth, my eyelids fluttering open weakly.  Anne 
was still fondling me, her pussy kissing my slowly softening cock, 
coaxing me through an endless series of contractions while she 
whispered in my ear, "Thank you, thank you, thank you."  

I opened my mouth and answered with a long groan.  Anne smiled up at 
me, murmuring,  "Sweet, so sweet."

Thinking I had to be crushing her I started to roll to the side.  But 
she wrapped her arms and legs around me.  "No, don't go!" she spoke 
with a pout, "let's linger."

Linger we did, kissing longly, gently.  Her hands traced patterns all 
across my back, then dipped down to massage my ass.  She hunched 
her crotch lightly against mine, reliving the memory.  "That was so 
fantastic!" her face glowed up at me, "I was _so-o_ full of you, and 
then you got even _bigger!_  I could feel every surge of your release.  
I can't even describe how exciting it was . . . watching the intensity of 
the pleasure playing across your face, and . . . " she gave a cozy 
shake, "and knowing it was all because of me.  That I was doing _that_ 
to you!"  Her mouth grew into a cocky little smile.  "So what do you 
think?  Was I right?  Did I get every last drop, hmmm?"

"Are you kidding?" I nuzzled her neck and nibbled her ear.  "I don't 
think I even have balls anymore.  It felt like you completely liquefied 
them."

Anne reached around and rubbed them.  "Oh no, they're still there.  A 
lot lighter than they were before.  But, mmm, hard at work making me 
another big load!"

"W-w-well," I stuttered, "it might be awhile."

"No problem," her eyes glittered.  "We got all night, baby.  You're mine 
'til the morning."

"Well, if you happen to, you know, wake up . . . "

"Don't worry, I will!  And when I wake up you'll be the first to know.  
Better believe it!"  She gave a little shimmy, and the movement made me 
slip out.  Anne gasped and quivered with an involuntary shudder.

"There," she gently rolled me off of her, "that's what I was waiting for.  
The cherry-on-top!"

Mine was a puzzled look.

"I don't know.  I just really _really_ like that sensation, when it pops 
out all by itself.  You slide into me so big and hard and full of desire, 
and then you slip out so small and soft and satisfied."  She reached 
down and petted me.  "It's difficult to explain to someone who doesn't 
have a pussy.  It's like, _Goodbye Mr. Penis, hope you had a good time, 
come back and visit again_ real _soon!_"

"Oh, with hospitality as warm and inviting as yours, Ms. Vagina, we'll be 
back before you know it."  My fingertips brushed her wetness.  "We 
had a most wonderful time in your company.  You are truly the hostess 
with the mostest."

Anne gave me a loving squeeze, "You need to get some rest so I can 
wear you out again."  She reached over and turned off the lamp, then 
curled up around me.  "Don't be drifting over to the other side of the 
bed.  You stay right here with me."  She slung a leg over me.

I ran my hand up the length of her thigh then dipped down, lightly 
fondling her mons from behind.  "Oh yea," she cuddled up tighter, "in 
case you happen to wake up with a hard-on before I wake you up, just 
roll me over and stick it in.  I'm sure I'll still be plenty juicy."

I wasn't sure if I answered Anne or not.  The motion of my hand was 
soothing and hypnotic.  Her breathing was lulling in its regularity.  I 
was trying to think of a clever reply, but with each possibility I sank 
another level into sleep.

The next I knew the room was washed in the hesitant grey-blue of very 
early dawn.  I probably would have rolled over and fallen back full to 
sleep, except I couldn't.  It was a physical impossibility.  I couldn't say 
if I had first stirred from the insistent pressure _of_ my erection, or 
the insistent pressure _on_ my erection.  I lay there flat on my back, 
cock straight up, fully enveloped in Anne's slippery warmth.  She raised 
her haunches up a bit then gradually settled back down, her pussy 
caressing my whole length.

I knew it was going to be a _great_ day.  No way would anyone be able 
to say I'd woken up on the wrong side of the bed!

I sent my hand running up her thigh.  "Hi?" I whispered weakly.

Anne placed a hand on mine, rubbing it in answer.  When I started to 
say something more, it moved to my mouth, fingers pressing my lips 
closed while hers faintly shushed me.  I nodded my understanding, my 
agreement.  She lifted herself again, then sank back down, drawing the 
motions out.

A long slow sleepy silent ride . . . _fine with me!_   Whatever she 
wanted to do was exactly what we would do, and with no complaints 
from me!

What complaint would I possibly have?  Watching Anne leisurely lifting 
herself up and down on my cock--it was like watching a dream.  It was 
_living_ a dream, the sexiest dream I'd ever known, come true.  I tried 
to assist, thrusting back up her, but Anne pushed my hips down flat 
while shaking her head.  Apparently I was just going to have to lie 
back and suffer the sweetest fuck of my life.  

I snaked my arms around her hips and fondled her ass, careful to only 
accentuate her motions, not modify them.  I seemed to have found a 
happy medium.  Anne pressed against me instead of shrugging me off.

The room reflected the world, so silent, magnifying the hissing intakes 
of her breath.  No birds were awake to compete with the sloppy song of 
our flight, the slurps and smacks as she soared and plummeted.  There 
was just enough light for me to see that she kept her eyes closed, 
rising and falling in blindness.  Her pacing had no urgency to it, none 
of the desperation of not knowing the destination.  Anne knew exactly 
where she was taking us, and how she wanted us to arrive.  

Gradually her inhalations grew sharper and shallower, released in 
stuttering sighs.  She would stop briefly, then start up again.  She was 
shivering constantly.  My crotch was soaked from hers, her juices in a 
tickling trickle across my scrotum, seeping down to wet the sheet.

I was unsure if I should indicate my state once my tensions started 
rising to the peak, but then she stopped to give me a rest as well.  She 
opened her eyes to smile down at me before resuming.  After several 
maddening rounds of this, I slipped and let my hands convey my 
impatience.  Anne reached back and removed them, bringing them 
around and placing them on her breasts.  From that point on she would 
draw forward and down, offering a breast to my mouth in the interim, 
my reward for sticking around for some more.

It got to be ridiculous before too long.  Strictly for my benefit we were 
having to stop after every other stroke.  I was riding the edge, 
writhing on edge.  Then she made the mistake of going a few fast 
strokes too far.  She rose nearly full on her knees with just the head 
of my cock caught in her cunt.  I tottered, reeling with vertigo.

Anne looked down at me from that great height, paused to catch my 
attention.  She had it, every bit of it, what little I had left!  One word 
from her, the only word she'd spoken.  "_Now!_"

I ditched the passive mode for one thrust, right as she dropped in 
freefall.  The bump as we met was a big jolt, and with that final spark 
we exploded.  

The entire bed rumbled with our trembles.  I held Anne in a shaking 
embrace, holding her tightly as our orgasms slowly subsided.  Then she 
turned into dead weight on top of me.  There wasn't much I could do 
about it, though, because I was dead weight beneath her.

I lay there happy and stunned, reveling in a glow I came to realize was 
not wholly from within.  We must have been at it for a good hour!  That 
was worth a marvel, but mostly it was the evidence of it that amazed 
me.  With my senses restored I noted how much lighter it was in the 
room--the sun must be fully up.  Billions of birds were all a-twitter.  
Dogs off barking in the background of backyards.  Cars driving up and 
down the street.  I could hear a kid somewhere shouting about 
something.  All the sounds and sights affirming life.  The charming 
enchantedness of life.  The loveliness of a new day washing over me.   

We must have dozed for awhile, for the room was flooded with the 
bright light of full morning when next I opened my eyes.  Anne was 
still sprawled on top of me.  I lay there idly stroking her back.  A car 
honked somewhere out on the street, and the sound made me realize 
that that was what had woken me up, that I'd heard it moments before.  

Jerks and their car horns.  Bastards too lazy to get out and walk up to 
the door.  Then the hackles rose on the back of my neck.  I could 
identify the make and model and color and driver of that car by the 
sound of its horn!

"_Oh my god!_" I shouted, sitting up, dumping Anne awake on her back.

"What? what?  What's going on, Wayne?"

"_Beep beep_--it's time for me to _go!_"

"_No way!_"

"Try the drive-way!"

We were bumping heads and banging elbows pulling on our shirts.  I 
was grabbing blindly and pulling on whatever my hands fished up.  
Socks, shoes, no wait, the shoes come last.  I reached for my 
underwear, but Anne got there first, snatching them away.

"I told you these are _mine!_"  She bent away from me across the bed.

"Skip slipping them under your pillow," I slapped her bottom, "slip this 
sweet ass into some pants."

"Ow!" she squirmed, shifting her butt up in the air.  The sight was a 
fine reminder.  Though the circumstances were skewed, our actions in 
the night left nothing to regret. 

"Anne, if we had two minutes to spare, I'd lavish them on you."  I could 
see she knew I meant it.  She started to . . . _melt_. 

Anne rolled up and sat beside me on the edge of the bed.  She took my 
hands in hers with a smile.  "And if we had two hours to spare, I'd 
ravish you . . . _again_."  

I started hopping up and down trying to get my pants up.  I was never 
very good at physical comedy.  Or maybe I was very good.  I'd gain 
some ground getting them up, just to lose it by falling down.  Finally I 
got my feet forced through those denim legs.  Just in the nick of time, 
before the time of nick, my privates hollered out _mind that zipper!_  I 
cringed at the thought, jutted my butt back, pulling the metal tracks 
together without snagging something painful.

Anne took advantage of my posture, grabbing a handful and giving a 
firm squeeze.

"Ow!"

"Hey, nice ass to you too!"

I sat down and busied myself with my shoes, muttering, "Would you 
please get your pants on?"  I figured at least I would be dressed and 
by the door in time for the first knock.  I stood up and glanced back 
at Anne.  She did have her pants on.  "Good girl!" I nodded my 
approval.

"Tell me how good," she murmured in a sultry voice while moving up 
behind me, swinging her arms around my waist and locking me against 
her.

"Too good for words, and you know it!"  I tried to get moving.

"Hold on a sec.  Here!  Don't forget _these!_"  She wedged her hands 
into my front pockets and went groping away.  How could I ever forget 
them?!  But when she withdrew, there was still a lump in my pocket.  I 
reached in and felt the silky crumpled ball of her panties.  Ah, _those!_  
How could I have possibly forgotten?  I stood there lost in the 
unforgotten possibilities as she swung around me.

Anne was nearly out of the bedroom.  She was certainly moving with a 
strange looking gait!  I quickly caught up and gave her ass a quick 
heft.  "Why are you walking so funny?  You look like you just got a 
real good pussy pounding."

She whipped around, "_Wayne!_  Well, as a matter of fact I did!  And I 
_am_ a little tender down there, but in a very nice sort of way."

Anne leaned up for a kiss.  There wasn't time for a big delicious kiss, 
but a little sweet one would suffice.  Her lips landed gently on mine, 
and then all of a sudden she stuck her tongue halfway down my throat.  
Caught me well off balance!

Giggling and casting me a wicked gleam she gave my cock a fast rub.  
"But that's not the reason I'm walking so funny.  It just feels sort of 
strange."  Her eyes opened very wide.  "I've got all this come dribbling 
down my legs!"

We stood around in the livingroom.  The door remained silent.  That 
seemed like a good thing, something worth taking advantage of.

"I guess I better go ahead and go."

"I know," Anne answered with a forced smile.  Her face was one big 
question mark.  Either answer would be fraught with complications.

I took the step to close the gap between us.  I went for the intimate 
but casual, the familiar and funny.  I felt through her shirt for her 
nipples, then twisted them lightly.  "Come in Tokyo, come in Tokyo, do 
you read me?"

Anne put her hands on mine to remove them, a wan look of 
disappointment on her face, "I guess you don't read me.  Don't worry 
though, our secret is safe with me."

I wouldn't let her take my hands away, spreading my fingers to fully 
cup her breasts.  "I read you loud and clear, Anne.  Don't _you_ worry.  
Our _secrets_ will always be safe with me."

I dropped my hands, still held in hers.  We squeezed our intentions.

Anne gave her head a tiny hesitant questioning nod.

My answering nod was hearty and enthusiastic.  "I don't know how, I 
don't know where and I don't know when.  But I do know what.  And I 
_certainly_ know why!"

Anne tucked her head and blushed.  I reached for her chin and lifted 
her face, then kissed her.

"After all," I paused at the door, "I have your promise in my pocket."

I opened the door, and there was Barbara coming up the walk, striding 
briskly in a skirt.  I was momentarily confused.  _Barbara coming home 
from work?_  Dresses were like bras, or pantyhose--not weekend wear 
in her book.    

She stepped inside, greeting me, "What, are you deaf?"

"I heard you the first honk, but I didn't know it was you."  I fumbled 
on.  "The second time I said, _hey, I can name that car in one note._  I 
looked out the window and saw the car, but I had two cups of tea in 
my bladder that I really needed to leave behind in the toilet.  _Sorry_ 
to keep you waiting."  I wanted to backtrack immediately, hoping 
instead that she couldn't see the lie.  I could see the car out the open 
door, and from where it was parked that it was not visible from any of 
Anne's windows.

The two of them chatted for a few minutes while I stepped out on the 
stoop.  I didn't pay them any attention, until their tones dropped and 
the conversation went giggly as all get out.  Then my spine stiffened.  
I felt distinctly as if they were in the kitchen, and I wasn't.  But that 
was ridiculous!  They wouldn't be discussing me.  Why would they be 
discussing me?  Well, they could possibly be discussing me, but they 
couldn't really be   . . . _discussing_ me.  Of course not.  

Before that line of thought went far enough to make a complete wreck 
of me, the two of them were exchanging hugs and good-byes and see-
you-next-times.  

Anne followed Barbara outside and gave me an innocent hug.  "Hope to 
see you again soon, Wayne."

"Oh yea, surely."  I turned back to give a weak wave as Barbara and I 
went down the walk.

I was a little shaky going out to the car.  The weight of the guilt on 
my shoulders was so great it was making my legs bow.  And then there 
was the giddiness at starting to think that my lapse had gone 
undetected.  _Never again, never again!_ I was silently panting.  _Never 
again?_ another part of me was challenging.  Well, maybe never again.  
That seemed like a good compromise for the moment.  Given the 
opportunity, how could I not compromise myself again.  But who said 
such an opportunity would ever be repeated?

I whipped out my keys, Mr. Mollification at work.  "I'll drive," I offered.

We'd driven several streets away before I ventured, "Is Stephie okay?"

Barbara gave me a blank look.

"I mean, after all the hubbub of last night."

She turned away with a smile that didn't seem entirely appropriate.  
"Oh sure, she's fine."

I prodded, "Well?"

"Oh you know Stephie.  Right as rain.  Takes after her father.  Change 
the context and she goes with the flow."

Huh?  Was she trying to insinuate something?  I turned to Barbara, but 
she wasn't dispensing explanations.  I looked back at the road a moment 
too late. 

I ran a stop sign, and then to make up for it braked so sharply for a 
changing light only the shoulder restraints kept our heads from turning 
the windshield into a million shiny cubes.  We sat there for a full 
minute of the yellow light, with horns blaring behind us.

Once we'd begun moving again she remarked, "Did you sleep okay last 
night?"

I couldn't think why Barbara should care.  "Well," I hesitated, "not too 
bad, though those floor cushions she calls a couch aren't particularly 
comfortable."  My lie tripped the spring, and only then did I see the 
trap.

"Really?  It didn't look to me like anyone slept on that last night.  No 
sheets, and really Wayne, the throw pillows were in the exact same 
positions as when I left last night."

Nothing I could do but give a silent gulp, which just prolonged the 
silence.

"Wayne," Barb began in a threatening tone, "did you screw my sister 
last night."

The gig, as they say, was definitely up.  I lowered my head and began 
massaging my temple.

"Eyes on the road and both hands on the wheel!" she barked.

Yes ma'am!

"So, did you or didn't you?"

"I did," I mumbled as miserable as mud.

"Good!"

_Good?_  Well, it had been very good, but it made no sense for Barbara 
to be pronouncing that same judgment.

"Good?" I cautioned.

"Definitely!"  Barbara was emphatic about that.  "That girl _definitely_ 
needed the silliness knocked back into her."

My brain was flaming.  "What are you saying?"

"Wake up, Wayne!  I set you guys up."

"What?"

"Anne definitely needed it, and you too."

"But how?"

"Easy.  I left you two alone knowing the sparks would fly."

The call _she'd_ made made sense, but . . . "But Stephie?!"

"She fell asleep, with nothing but the sweetest of dreams."

"But . . . what made you leave?"

"Well, Mom practically suggested the whole thing earlier in the day.  
Nothing like a good fuck to straighten Anne out."

"_She didn't say that!_"

"Well, not in quite those words.  But I didn't mind doing the favor."

"_You didn't mind?_"

"Oh, come on Wayne.  As if you did!"

I flashed back to the giddiness Barb and Anne had been sharing right 
before we left.  "So . . . you, your mother, your sister, and I'm the last 
to know?"

She gave me a puzzled look, which broadened into a wide smile of 
comprehension.  "Oh no, not quite.  Back there, you mean?  I was just 
sounding her out.  And, may I add, she sounded well-fucked to me." 

"But, but, how did you know . . . it would work?"

"Oh, right!  Horny girl like her, all alone with a cute boy overnight . . . 
she wouldn't be my sister if she'd paused to consider the consequences.  
And with her in charge I figured you'd be easy--you haven't gotten 
any in three weeks."  

"Four and a half," I interjected.

Barbara smiled, "So you can count.  Anyway, I knew you'd be 
overwhelmed.  You'd shoot first and ask questions later."

Which, true enough, was exactly what I'd done.  All the questions in my 
mind at the moment made me think back to the moment of the shootings.  
_Pretty cunt.  Luscious cunt!!  Juicy, eager, talented cunt!_   My brain 
screamed at the memory.  My cock chimed in.  Fuck, I was still 
supposed to be trying to drive!

Barb scooted over towards me, straining the seatbelt.  She clicked the 
button and freed herself.  Then she had a hand rubbing the swelling in 
my pants.  "So did you have a good night?"  I thought to stop her, but 
before I could she had my zipper down.  With minimal work my cock 
sprung free.

Barbara leaned back in genuine surprise.  "Since when do you go 
without underpants?"

"She, she, Anne, she, she _wanted_ them!"

"Hmm, interesting.  I can see her point."

She could more than see the point.  Barbara held it firmly in her hand, 
pumping it up and down.

"Honey, please!  That feels wonderful, but I'm trying to drive."  

"What's this bulge in your pants?" she asked, ignoring my imprecations.  
The usual punchline was of course poking out in plain evidence.  Before 
I could think to stop her, Barbara had her other hand down in my 
pocket, and then Anne's panties were in her hand.  She waved them 
around gleefully, like a flag of victory.  

"How _precious!_" she exclaimed with a snort.  "This is just _too cute!_  
You guys exchanged underwear."  Then she held them up to her nose!  
"Oh, my.  I bet Anne was whining by the time you got these off her."

Barbara lifted her hand off my cock just long enough for a sniff and a 
snort.  "I thought you felt sticky!  Didn't even take a shower?  Too 
lazy or not enough time?  Did I yank you right out of bed?  Did I yank 
you right out of her?  That's right!  Of course not.  The look on her 
face!  She got full measure.  First morning of her life she wasn't a big 
grump.  She'd definitely had her fill."

Barbara's face was shimmering with spilled tears.  To anyone else, a 
casual glance in the car would have shown her crying her heart out.  I 
knew different, having been cooped up with her hoots of laughter.  
"But Wayne, I'd advise you against taking up adultery as a serious 
hobby.  You're really not very good at it.  If you'd been stepping-out 
under your own steam, I'd be insulted!  Do you think I'm stupid?  And 
I'm not talking panties-in-the-pocket."  She hung them from the 
rearview with a chuckle.  "Boy, one whiff off you and it's obvious what 
you've been doing.  Gone out prospecting and sunk your shaft into a 
gold mine.  You reeka sex!" 

I was tired of being teased.  I squealed the tires turning into a park 
along the way back.  The place was, as far as I could see, absolutely 
deserted.  Early on a Sunday morning--everyone was either in the bed 
of church or the church of bed.  The road wound slowly through the 
place.  It was a large bucolic park, with lots of obscure little picnicking 
spots off the main drive.

"This is ultimately--you do realize--the long way home."  I gave her a 
glance and said nothing, searching ahead for the perfect turn-off.  I 
found what looked to be a good spot.  After turning, I checked my 
judgment as best I could in the garlanded rearview mirror.  There was 
a clear view down the lane back to the road, but otherwise the little 
paved patch at the end was hidden from general sight.

I made a show of switching off the ignition.

"Parking in the park--how romantic!"  Barbara reached over and 
resumed tugging on my cock.  "Maybe Waynie wanna blowjob, hmm?  Is 
that what you want?  You want me to wrap my lips around that big 
luscious hunk of meat and suck you off?  Does that sound nice?"  
Barbara gave a quick smirk that nearly stripped me of desire, then she 
leaned over and went to it.  Sure it sounded nice.  Felt rather nice as 
well.  But I wasn't in a nice sort of mood.  

"Oh Wayne," she chortled, coming up for air, "do you want to come in 
my mouth?"  Her beaming eyes caught mine.

I gave her a blank stare.  "No."

"_No?_" she sat up abruptly, looking genuinely confused.

I unfastened my seat belt, then reached over, yanking the lever to send 
the back of her seat flying flat.  Barbara glanced back quickly at the 
loss of support, then leveled her gaze on me.  Her eyes and lips drew 
tight.  "You don't think you're going to get to do _that_, do you!  Not 
when you're covered with Anne's juices!"

I leaned down and traced my tongue around her lips.  "What are you 
talking about?  You already licked every drop off--I can taste her on 
you!"

Barbara squirmed and turned over, trying to escape into the back seat, 
but she wasn't fast enough.  I locked my arms around her hips and 
dragged her back.

"You're not going to fuck me, are you?" 

"Better believe it!" I announced with glee.  I ran my hand up under her 
dress to caress her mound.  The crotch of her panties was soaked.  
"Feels like that's exactly what you want me to do," I taunted.

"No!" she groaned.

"Those lips up there say _No_, but these down here say _Yes!_"

I rubbed the fabric further up into the wetness of her cleft, then 
pulled my hand away.

Barbara fairly screamed.  "No!  I mean, yes!  Good god Wayne, _touch 
me!_"

Just the words I wanted to hear.  "You mean . . . like _this_?"

I lifted the dress above her hips, then resumed touching her while 
nibbling and kissing her ass through the silky material.  "Hmm," I 
wondered with a chuckle, "I wonder if you'll be whining by the time I 
get these off you?"

Barbara wiggled her behind.  "_Whine, whine_," she declared, "now _get 
them off!_"

"Pronto!  Posthaste!"

She scooted forward to help me out, nearly tumbling headfirst into the 
back seat.  But instead of ripping them off, I pulled those panties down 
at a pace designed to inspire moans of impatience, kissing every lovely 
inch as it was revealed.  Once they were down to her knees I could see 
the full flush of her flower.  Woo boy, did she ever look ripe and 
ready!  I continued, trying to negotiate the bend of her knees.  

"Knock it off!  Forget about that."  She thrust back, nearly pinning me 
against the dash.

"Hey!  No backseat drivers!  You think I'm going to miss out on a 
chance for a matched set?  No way!"  I got them off!  It was in my best 
interest to get them off.  Had to get them off before we could get off, 
right?

"Barbara?"

"Yes-s," came her reply through gritted teeth.

"I know I've said this before, I've said this before many times, no doubt 
I'll say this many times again, but I don't think I've taken the time to 
say this very recently . . . "

"Yes-s-s-s-s . . . and . . . ?!"

"Barbara," I grabbed two nice firm handfuls, "you have got one 
gorgeous ass."

There was an exasperated sigh that immediately went away when I 
positioned the head of my cock at her glistening gates.  Hardly needed 
but a nudge to slip in that doorway!

"Barbara?  Ready to take the long way home?" I asked innocently.

She reared up and roared back, "Shut up and fuck me already, will 
you?!"

Her words were still echoing when I slammed all the way in.  Barbara 
instantly melted beneath me into a quivering yowling puddle of 
satisfaction.  Quickest orgasm on record that I knew of!  I had to reach 
down and grab her hips to pull her ass back up to keep going.  
Keeping on going was what I surely had in mind.

It'd been ages since I'd last had sex in a car.  I couldn't imagine why.   
I'd done it in smaller cars, though this was still a bit snug.  I was 
greatly enjoying that snug sort of feeling.  There we were, in our own 
private room with a view, and I was determined to make the most of it.  
Barbara didn't seem to complain.  Indeed, she didn't seem to have any 
control over her level of enjoyment.

But then she shoved back at my thighs, slid forward, and rolled over 
on her back.  The motion popped my cock free and there I was, 
kneeling on the very edge of the seat, staring down at this long 
glistening monster jutting out from between my legs.  This was getting 
to be a common occurrence!

"Put it back in," she instructed in a delirious slur, "and I mean _right 
now!_"

As if I had any other plans at the moment!

>From then on, Barbara had the accelerator stuck to the floor, screaming 
down Pleasure Highway on cruise-control.  I didn't know if it was the 
angle of the flattened seat, or that she hadn't had me inside her for 
long, or whether the inspiration sprung from the fact that I hadn't been 
inside her for so long.  The guesswork hardly mattered.  The results 
remained the same.  I couldn't begin to tell where one orgasm left off 
and the next one began. 

Barbara was definitely reaping the harvest of what she'd sewn.  Third 
time for me in less than twelve hours--I had bushels of control.  I was 
ready to stay there and fuck all morning.  But I could hear we weren't 
alone in the park anymore.  There was starting to be some traffic down 
on the main road.  I paused just to make sure, raising up to glance out 
the back window.  We were still safe, but sure enough, passing below 
were carloads of church clothes bearing bagfuls of donuts.  I settled 
back to work, getting our bed-on-wheels rocking again.

Barbara groaned below me.  "God Wayne, much more of this and you'll 
have to carry me into the house.  Not that I'm complaining, just giving 
fair warning."

I brought the proceedings to a standstill.

"Damn you!" she grabbed my ass and started the car shaking herself.  
"I wasn't saying to stop.  I was telling you to get going!"

I joined back in and we went at it like maniacs.  We got it going, all 
right.  That car was _bouncing!_  And within minutes we were 
_bursting!_   

As I lay there in the warmth of her womanly cradle, Barbara started 
giggling.

"What?" I asked.

"Oh, I was just thinking."

"Hmm?"

"Oh, just that I think I'm going to have to pick you up at my sister's 
more often."

I gaped at her with astonishment.

"Well . . . " she began, "it seems to be an effective attitude adjustment 
for Anne, and . . . I can't say as I don't garner my own rewards!"

Her eyebrows shot up, threatening to merge into her hair line.  
"Though, I don't know, maybe next time there won't be a phone call to 
carry me away!"

=========================
Like? Yes? No? Comments welcome. losgud@hotmail.com
=========================
I am archived at DejaNews under "Author" name:  
LUSHGOD@HOTNOMAIL.COM
  




-- 
+--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+
| story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |