("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2005. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- The Hangman's Wife - 2 by Slim n' Dusty (slimndusty@yahoo.co.uk) *** The infamous gang, the McKell Brothers, are caught and hanged for robberies. The hangman's wife gives them are pleasant surprise before their execution, and finds pleasure following it... (FMM, voy, v, hanging, nec) *** ‘They’re coming!’ she softly whispered to herself. She normally wasn’t that big on reading the daily newssheets but once she’d heard that the McKell Gang were robbing in her county she began to take some notice. Each morning, she would slowly read the details of daily updates, their increasingly desperate situation. Shivering, she would take the latest newssheet and retreat into her bedroom upstairs and lie amongst the older newssheets that she’d been collecting. She would start with the initial article. The very first report was their sighting by a witness down Barnaby Creek, then the mail coach robbery and following that - a bank in a town less than thirty miles away. She would read through each article, scouring the updates, absorbing all the finer details, the profiles of the gang members and how old each of them were, their descriptions – she loved the written descriptions of criminals, rather than the roughly-reproduced artists’ impressions. She preferred leaving their handsome features to her imagination. In many cases the descriptions would turn out inaccurate in the papers and, having hanged many of them herself, she would be the one to know. The McKell boys were wanted in 5 counties and their gang had been on the run the longest out of any that the hangman’s wife could lovingly list in her mind. They must be so wild, she thought as she fondled herself. She wanted them to continue riding closer to her, and to not get caught outside her jurisdiction. ‘Come to me!’ she would pray aloud to herself while she sat cross-legged on her bed wet, touching the poorly printed faces of each of the McKell brothers, smearing the newsprint. ‘Come to mummy!’ She was 36 and the two core gang members, the McKell brothers, were in their mid-twenties. She preferred pleasuring herself with criminals straight after their execution. She loved the feel of the gang members, the skin of their cold bodies and their strong riders’ legs and thighs and what potential lay between. So wild and virile, she thought, as she read the latest sighting while slowly massaging her moist, throbbing clit. She promised to herself that if fate intervened that she would not have her orgasm now, nor tomorrow, nor the next day. She would keep herself from coming if fate could promise that the gang were caught in her jurisdiction and nobody else’s. Her other hand continued to stroke the news pages as she reread how desperate their plight was becoming... ** It was a sharp rap on her front door that woke her from her sleep. The banging was insistent. Quickly she dressed in a gown and answered the door. It was the Sheriff with news that she had been desperate to hear for over a week of abstinence. ‘We need you to start preparing the scaffold!’ he said, ‘The McKell gang had been involved in a shootout just 6 miles out of town’. Her heart began to weaken. ‘Who was shot?’ she asked. ‘Not sure’ he replied, ‘but the 2 surviving members are being brought here for execution’. The hangman’s wife ran, her heart pumping in rhythm to her well-rounded thighs as she ran back upstairs, wondering if fate had intervened in her favour. The day would still end in a victory nonetheless with at least two men from the gang hanged by her. There was certainly enough orgasmic potential in that. But it was the two core members she was desperate for the most, the McKell brothers. She began preparations for her big, long-awaited day. Her brain buzzing with delirium from the pleasure-giving news. ** The execution took place three days after the Sheriff made his announcement. The postponement enabled the town preparation time for the big event as well as to allow people from neighbouring counties to come and witness the spectacle. A large crowd was expected and the hangman’s wife had already laid out her darkest corset and suspenders for the special day. She had slept restlessly for the nights leading up to the big day. Her pussy ignored her self-control, it had remained hot and aching with pure lust for all that time. On the morning of the execution she rose early. She dressed with slow deliberation, initiating the act by tightly covering her glowing cunt in her favourite blood-red panties. This would be a half-hearted attempt to discourage her from touching herself during a private moment. The tightness also gave her an intense sensation down there whenever she grew aroused, so that her hands were not needed as much compared to when she wore looser panties. She followed her slow dressing with a full breakfast. At the gaol, the sheriff quickly searched the olive green sack she brought with her and then introduced her to the two condemned men. The moment she had been waiting for had arrived. Her heartbeat raced as she realised that the two men to be hanged were the McKell brothers. They had not fallen during the shootout, fate had intervened for her. Although they both looked tired and weary, both men looked strikingly handsome and far better looking than what the newssheets depicted. Barely concealing a gasp in time, she asked the deputies for some time with them in private. Before the deputies left, they ensured that both men were tied firmly. The hangman’s wife then asked them to be gagged and laid on the floor. Although the deputies hesitated briefly, they did as she wished before they left her with them. Once the cell door slammed shut she then opened her olive green bag. She emptied the contents of the bag before she swiftly removed the leggings of the helpless gang members. This was then followed by their drawers. She stared at each in turn, their eyes looked more shocked than angry because her methodical approach appeared so well-rehearsed and planned. Without hesitation, she methodically fitted a drawstring noose over the base of each brother’s cock, with smaller loops neatly tightened around each of their scrotums. She then fitted both with tight pants made of cowhide. She stood up and smiled, ‘now you’re ready. Momma’s prepared you boys for a good manly show today...cause I know you won’t be disappointing me tonight!’ she gasped softly to them. Her hand touched each cheek of the gagged men. ‘And I do feel a need to give you men a little something in return for what you’ll be doing for me tonight in the cellar of my welcoming home. Knowing she had some time to kill with them, and knowing that she wouldn’t be disturbed by the deputies until she gave the signal, the hangman’s wife sat back on the closed cell bunk to allow her self-discipline to briefly dissolve. ‘I’ve been reading all about you...’ she shivered as she spoke to them. Slowly her hand began to reach inside her top. ‘and I was praying so hard that fate would deliver you boys to me! So hard!’ The men began to stare and listen to what the hangman’s wife wanted to say. Her other hand began to lift her full-length skirt. She kept talking between gasps as she slowly revealed a fully erect nipple standing proudly atop its warm support of soft, full, neatly- curved breast. The men could see her large erect nipple but could not feel the sensation she was giving to herself as she gently licked her finger and traced its wetness around her dark areola. She closed her eyes and shared an audible moan with the two men. Buzzing with the delicious tingling, the hangman’s wife sat back, she lifted her legs up onto the bed while looking deeply into their eyes. ‘Fate must be the most beautiful, sweetest bitch of all...’ she moaned tenderly ‘to have her bring you two handsome, virile men to a hot-blooded woman like me!’ She let her skirt slip back to reveal her smooth, milky-white thighs. ‘And the things you boys are gonna do for your sweet momma tonight...’ Slowly, teasingly, the hangman’s wife spread her legs wide for the young men to see. Both men gazed in shock and surprise. Encouraged by their trance-like attention, she briefly hesitated from pulling on her blood-red panties. The men gazed at the wet patch of need that lined the front. Aroused by their undivided attention, she slowly pulled her strap taut from behind. The men watched as her soft, glistening outer labias gently enclosed around the constricted red material, trapping it against her throbbing vaginal opening. ‘Men do get hungry for it! Don’t they?’ She pulled aside the thin scarlet strap and revealed her hunger to them. ‘But women have more subtle ways. Secretive ways.’ The men looked in helpless fascination. Her full labias had parted, allowing them exclusive access to her gorgeous lovenest. If they hadn’t been gagged their jaws would have dropped to the ground. She basked in their rapturous attention for a lengthy moment. Enjoying the thought that they were savouring a final glimpse of her hungry cunt on the day of their execution. Slowly, she ran her middle finger vertically over her warm slit. ‘The hangman’s wife is having an exclusive party at her house tonight...’ With her middle finger, she rubbed her pulsing clit in small circling motions...‘and you fine men...are most welcome’. The men watched in disbelief as her moist labias began to twitch with the early onset of orgasm. With suddenness she cut her pleasure short, covered her sex with her panties, dropped her skirt and tucked her breast back into her top. Without a word she stood up, moved over to the men and, in turn, reached inside their pants to mercillessly constrict the nooses over their helpless erections. She then gave the signal to the deputies to let her out... ** She stood in the front row of the crowd as the two men were escorted up to the scaffold. When she wasn’t immediately in charge of the execution, she loved a good view of the men. To see their bodies drop down and then jerk left and right as the rope swiftly pulled them out of the world. Her favourite hangings of course were young men. She loved witnessing the musculature of a young man’s body tense up as the rope grew taut around his neck and the response the rest of his body made. She imagined what happened to him at the moment of death and if she’d had her way, she would order every man naked before his execution so that she could record every juicy detail. To see their bodies twitch, to see their swelling tongues appear at the entrance of their mouths, knowing what that could do for her within the privacy of her own home. Witnessing the appearance of their tongues would often make her vulva throb and yawn with the most powerful of desires and cravings – cravings desperate to be satisfied. Sometimes she would be waiting nearby for the crowd to disperse, so that they would then take the body for overnight storage in the cool cellar-room of her house. During some executions, she would lock her knees together and clench her jaws, so that people around her would not detect any sign of how she felt inside her body and between her legs. Sometimes her body would simultaneously convulse with sadness and sexual pleasure the moment a man dropped through the trapdoor. At the moment of death she wondered if he would experience a postmortem erection. Sometimes they did and she would often walk with the body back to her cellar room. The folds of her pussy slick with fresh cream from her waking cunt, while wondering how soon she would be left alone with the body so that she could decide what to do with the come that would have oozed out of his dick... With the McKell’s hanging, she was no different. She carefully scanned their faces as they looked into the crowd. They both noticed her, but said nothing. For some reason they both looked stunned from the moment she shared herself with them in the gaol and with what she’d now done to their genitals, but she knew that they would not open their mouth in protest once they were on the scaffold. The stunned look on their faces also included one of mild resignation. They just didn’t seem to care. She smiled in satisfaction that the tight pants she put them in did little to hide their apparatus. None of the crowd seemed to mind, especially the women old and young, who appeared to notice it more than the men did. She indicated the executioner to remove their gags. After a lengthy pause, with subtlety, she blew the men a soft kiss each and gave the signal... ** In the soft candlelight of her cool cellar-room, she squeezed the soapy sponge lightly and placed it on Raymond’s bare, hairless chest. She carefully removed the tight-fitting pants and drawers, emptying the contents into a waste bucket. The pants went straight into the basin of hot water and soap. She reached for the sponge and slowly squeezed the warm water through his hair, washing away the sweat and dirt and man- grease. She moved downwards gradually, washing and cleaning him thoroughly and with an expert eye. She carefully wiped the lips but avoided his protruding tongue, fighting off her desire to either kiss him deeply or straddle and rub herself ferociously on his face. Across, on the other side of the bench she could see Raymond’s older brother. He had already been cleaned up and his state had not disappointed her. She looked down from his bare belly, fondly eyeing the noose and the tiny slipknot that she’d perfected to maintain and preserve the young man’s full erection. She knew how to tie it up so that when he fell, the sudden rush of blood would reach the upper half of his shaft and remain there. The knot was also designed to contain the hanged man’s ejaculate, if he managed to quickly achieve it. She had perfected that slipknot technique on the cock and it never failed her once the man was aroused. During the cleaning, she had lovingly given every part of his body her undivided attention and now she was to continue this process with Raymond. Her sponge followed down his sternum, wiping clean the dust and sweat. She loved washing down a male corpse. The silence of the cellar room and the stillness of the men it contained. She could sit for hours with them and watch. Other times she couldn’t help but kiss them, stroke them fondly after completing her task of cleaning them properly. She also spoke to them, breathed in the smell of their freshly-cleaned, lifeless bodies. The presence of death intoxicated her, brought her kneeling to her own sexuality and passions. With a dead man inside her she could come so fully and ferociously, it would leave her weak and trembling. On exceptional nights like this one, with two male guests in the house, there would often be fireworks. Sometimes she felt the need to close the door to the cellar room, but nobody would have heard her anyway. ** After her long bath, she looked at herself in the mirror. She wondered if there were other women out there who felt like she did, but she always kept her desires to herself and the many dead men that she had completely loved and sated herself with. She knew they would always keep their secrets after she’d loved them and she vividly remembered each of them. Each body so distinct in its own creation. She did wish that she could have kept one of the brothers downstairs alive, however. She thought as she gently rubbed her full, pale breasts. To make one a private assistant to assist her in seeking deep fulfillment with his dead brother. The hangman’s wife sat back on her bed and lifted her legs as she thought details of this delicious thought. She thought of herself lying on her bed, naked, and watching the surviving brother enter her bedroom carrying the body of his deceased brother. As he approached the bed she would lie back and look deeply into the dead man’s eyes, slowly spreading her legs to welcome his arrival. She wondered if the spirit of the dead man would also be in the room, incapable of interfering with her as she spread her legs wider, knowing that she was going to give herself the ultimate pleasure. Before bringing him to her, she would order the surviving brother to sit his dead, naked brother on the cane chair in the corner of the room. She would ask the living brother to stand in the corner with his back to her. Over a long period of time, she would masturbate, her damp fingers dancing with a swift rhythm amidst the soft folds of her sex. She would work herself fast, then slow. Touching her breasts, thighs, belly. After what seemed like forever, she would then ask the living brother to lift him and slowly drape him over her body. She would wrap her hands around his cold, unknowing neck and kiss his mouth while lifting his lower torso up with her own legs. She would then order the surviving brother to rub the wet, swollen lips of her vagina to moisten his dead brother’s cock. And when satisfied that he was ready, she would then order him to guide in the first inch or two of his cold length before requesting that he sit opposite her and watch her fuck him continuously and relentlessly. So long as he gave her his undivided attention, she would let him fight his inner turmoil's as she exhibited her most lustful of moments. She would moan and then tell him that this would be him the following evening. She would watch him grow uncomfortable as she mentioned his fate openly to him whilst showing what would be happening to him in her bed. She told him that she would not bath between her two lovers and that it would be in her power to have them together with her for one night of enjoyment, if she so desired it. As she talked she would slow the dead, pumping cock down with her legs. She would order him to look at her dead brother’s cock, that the glistened coating was her nectar only. She would fuck him all night long, slowly, swiftly, gently, ferociously. She would sit on top and guide his swollen, blackened tongue to her equally swollen tender parts, stroking his hair and looking deeply into his unseeing eyes. And slowly she would rub herself over him until she came, full and hard, all over his face... ** The hangman’s wife sat up from her fantasy, walking a fine tightrope between self-control and the deepest, darkest of lust. She looked into the mirror facing her bed. Between her legs she noticed the signal - a small trickle of white goo oozing from out of her hot, starving cunt. Her body now wanted them, was desperate for them now more than ever. Trembling, she stood up and slowly dressed herself in the barest fashion. Downstairs, the irresistible sexual offering of cold, hard manmeat was waiting patiently for her - their gracious, lustful hostess. Slowly she let each stair squeak under her as her heart began to pound. Each step brought her deliciously closer to the men waiting beneath her bare feet. Her mind raced, as it always raced when she had hard lovers waiting for her. Her path felt predestined since birth, since her fascination with death. No trauma, no insecurity in her childhood. A good upbringing. Yet it was the cocks and mouths of dead men that she constantly thought of, that fed her insatiable lust, her womanly passions. The varied doors to her lust remained shut with living men, they were just so dull and boring. She wondered if any members of the opposite sex were out there, this very evening, doing the same thing to lifeless women. Men getting as horny as she, while approaching these two dead brothers. Men hungry to have their lust sated. Rolling countless dead women or men onto their bellies. Lifting up their sweet unknowing butts, spreading their helpless legs wide. Entering them with a sharp gasp and fucking them savagely, brutally, ferociously. The stuff that their wives would not tolerate outside a fantasy, and who would without a doubt mutter the passions of their frustrated men as demons possessing their souls. All this muttering, while committing the gravest of sins reading the most useless, dullest, most benign of tabloids in bed while keeping the shared bed sheets cold. Even a cemetery can have more life, more passion, than a bedroom filled with the living dead! Along with her insatiable cunt, Fate brought the hangman’s wife into this world with a pre-destiny. She spoke the name of that sweetest bitch of them all in soft whispers. Fate, that considerate Sister who steered her into the job she adored. She loved Fate for her many offerings. She loved Fate for when her husband decided to split and left her this large house and moved out of town and county. A divorce would have been too much in this small country town, so he spent all of his time working away. She loved Fate for all the mothers of all the dead men she’d loved, allowing their foetuses to grow from just a seed in their wombs, bearing erections before being born, before being pushed out of their mothers’ cunts. Feeding them the necessary nutrition by the breast, nurturing them, watching carefully over them as they grew into manhood, punishing them for being caught with erections in the tin bath, for unceasingly allowing their balls to tighten and their hard cocks to spill their salted teenage milk between sweaty sheets. And, finally, she loved Fate for delivering these chosen men to her. Over the years she’d loved many male bodies, and without doubt she we love many more. Her breasts still held their firmness, her vagina had not lost any of its ache or voracious appetite since her years as a prepubescent teen. In fact, she felt more hungry for men than ever before. Young men, middle aged fit men, all of them. She would be their last earthly love. She knew that if she worked hard enough, in a town with such a static population as this one, that she could work well into her sixties, and maybe seventies. How many men would have passed between her warm thighs in all that time? How many cocks would her carnivorous cunt have savoured? Her heartbeat raced as she imagined herself at that age, still enjoying the thrill and the absolute pleasure of fucking young dead men, generations of them filling her matured body with countless rock hard organs – organs which no longer had the attention, direction or possession of their masters. They were there for her and for her pleasure only. In a pique of pure womanly lust, she imagined standing in the centre of her cellar room chock full of semi- naked dead men. Jumping from one lover to another, desperately pulling their underclothes off, lying on top of them all, kissing their bodies, rubbing her aching breasts over mouths, chests, cocks. Whilst lying on their chests she could see the space in every direction filled with a forest of cold, erect dick. Closing her eyes, her hands would reach outwards gripping tight, stroking firmly all the varied manhood immediately within reach – fat cocks, lean cocks, straight cocks, bendy cocks, cocks hooded and unhooded, limp and rock-hard. Cocks to rub against or to fill her up entirely - reaching deep, knocking and rubbing against her cervix, straining close enough to burst into her womb. Whilst savouring their mortal fragrance, she would orally, vaginally, anally, devour whole cupfuls of fit adult men. While all the other women in the town of her age and much younger would have nothing but concealed dry masturbation or a cold, cheap grave waiting for them within a year or two. And when it was time for her to go to her grave, she would do so knowing that she had not ignored her body, nor neglected her body. That she had continually answered the sweet calling of her lust. And whilst dying, she would do so knowing that she had lived each of her days as if it was her last. Her dying wish would be to die whilst mounting and viciously fucking a young dead man, a virgin with a freshly-stolen cherry. Her heart would give out, burned up by its own passions. They would find her grinning, slumped over her already dead lover. Still pleasantly stuffed with his rock-hard cock. She liked to think that a man would find her, a man with a sense of humour, who would understand the situation completely. He would ensure the secrecy would go to the grave with her body. He would make arrangements and build an extra large casket for her and her young male lover, and carefully arrange them with him still buried ball-deep inside her. The young man’s family would be reassured that cremation would be the best for his remains. They would be given a pot of ashes with the proud stamp of their son’s name on a brass plate. In HER casket, the man would clamp her hands firmly to those pale, round butt cheeks of her lover and to leave his dead cock inside her freshly retired, fully experienced veteran cunt – so that she could savour his young fertile dust and mingle it with her mature dust. She moaned loudly thinking of that beautiful thought... ** The hangman’s wife now stood at the cellar room entrance, staring in at the two men. Their bodies lying still on the tables with their dark cocks forcibly erect since their execution, standing to attention, just waiting to service her needs and bring her pure pleasure. Their small cock-nooses still taut, each containing a precious load of cold man juice. She shivered, subconsciously reached beneath to slowly untie the loosened, lengthy lace that bound her black corset to her upper torso while moving over to the younger brother. She rested her hand on Raymond’s leg, tracing the index finger along his upper thigh and into his pubic patch. She cupped and pinched his constricted, swollen scrotum before slowly moving towards the base of the dead man’s stiff pole. ‘You’re a sweet prize, honey’ she whispered softly as she began to delicately run her finger along the entire cold length of his shaft. She touched his cock carefully, managing the situation so as not to interfere too much with her noose nor spoil him and trigger an accident. Leaning over, she licked a finger and gently rubbed it over the head of his penis, her desire growing as she lifted the finger to her mouth and tasted his fragrance. Her finger returned, caressing and crossing the head of his dead cock, her saliva polishing all over the smooth, dark purple surface. Her fingernail gently pressing against the hole at the blunt end of his dick. She began to shake as desire took hold of her. She wanted to just let go and have him inside, her hips rising and falling onto him, her pelvis rotating and rocking, taking him in every way. She wanted a full vaginal orgasm, followed by kisses all over his body, before she would take his older brother inside her. To feel the subtle differences of their cocks, to be a complete slut to her powerful lust. To feel the similarity of their cocks, their compatibility, grown from the same womb. She wanted to grip both men tight by her cuntlips and squeeze out every contained drop of their cold come to soothe that furnace erupting within her hole. She moved around to the head of the younger brother and revealed her full breasts. She kissed his forehead and slowly opened his eyes and mouth. Delicately, she traced an erect nipple over his blue lips. The fullness of her smooth, warm breast forced his mouth to open wider. She moaned as she sighted the dead man’s tongue just beneath her curved breast. Pushing as much of her into his mouth as she could, she could feel his dry tongue come into contact with her nipple, giving her the most pleasurable sensation. She resisted the sudden desire to come, by reaching down and pinching her stubborn cunt hard. She wanted more, needed much more. If her lovers could wait patiently, then so could she. Gently she stroked the young man’s hair while wiggling her breast in and out of his mouth. ‘You feel so good baby!’ she moaned uncontrollably. ‘My soft, wet pussy is so begging for your cold, hard prick!’ She emphasised the word ‘prick’ to his deaf ears. She liked that word, as much as she liked the word ‘cunt’. Women rarely used it in conversation, she thought, but should. The word is so strong, powerful, like a real cunt – strong and powerful and accommodating. She fed each of her breasts into the dead man’s mouth, before her desire begged for more from this man. She rubbed her breasts over his face and then completely removed her corset and blood-red panties. She climbed onto the cot slowly, deliberately, hungrily, before squatting above his face. ‘Can you smell my sex?’ she whispered as she gripped his chin. Her other hand brushed his forehead and stroked the stubble on his upper lip. She inserted one finger into her wet hole to coat it completely with her hot juices before opening his dry mouth and feeding it into him. It was the scent of her aroused sex mixing with the smell of fresh man death that made her lose self- control over her wild cunt. She felt the leash snap as she mounted the dead man’s face. Pressing her cunt firmly to his mouth, she began grinding him up between her voracious thighs. She moaned as she watched her cunt work its way over his face and mouth, her slick juices streaming over his mouth and nose while her labias kissed every inch of his dead, beautiful face and distributed her juices so evenly over him. She watched her cunt as it pulled on his mouth and nose, with each bump and grind, distorting his features and shifting his mouth. She looked deeply into his unseeing eyes as she could feel her orgasm building up ‘I’m coming, baby! I’m going to come so fucking hard!’ She clenched her teeth and shuffled herself swiftly down to his cock, there was no time to untie the noose, barely enough to stuff him inside. She thrust him in deep, no need for a slow entry rub, an express entry - just his entire length in fast and hard. She gasped at his welcome arrival, while the tiny noose gave off exquisite friction inside her. While working his cock hard with each movement she felt the knot loosening inside from her powerful thrusting. The tipping point came when she felt the noose give way, his long-trapped cold semen gushing wildly into her steaming canal. She screamed as her cunt erupted with the delicious sensation, her hot innermost juices gushing through her love chamber and mingling with his cold come. Panting and completely fucked out, she collapsed on him as she felt both her juices and his slowly exiting from out of her still pulsing vagina. Lying there to catch her breath, all she could think of was how soon her cunt would be ready for brotherly dessert... END ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author does not condone the described behavior in real life. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Kristen's collection - Directory 36