| Carly, Chapter 6 Two nights in a row sleeping in your clothes; this is becoming a habit! I was grungy and grimy just like yesterday but I didn't feel it. Nothing could penetrate the euphoria. In the shower, after so many years of searching, I was understandably excited—no elated that I'd finally found my mentors. 'It could be quite a while Carly ... you have to settle down and live between now and then' I cautioned myself. I put on my red silk kimono, the one with the dragons on it. The silk felt so wonderful against my naked skin as I cooked up a big breakfast—I was starving. I was cleaning up the kitchen when the phone rang. "Hello." "Hi Carly," the unmistakable voice on the other end said. Heather sounded as bright and chipper as I had ever heard her. "Where have you been?" I immediately regretted how the question sounded; like she had to report in or answer to me for what she did. "I've had a busy, and pretty stressful few days," she explained, apparently not taking offense and then followed up with, "Are you free for lunch?" My heart went soaring for the second time in less than twelve hours. "Of course sweetheart, I've been dying to see you for days!" "Actually you saw me yesterday," she said with a sort of giggle in her voice. I assumed she was referring to her unfortunately timed arrival at the studio while I was engaged with the Italian teens. Even though she knew what I did to make a living, we had never really gone into detail about how much physical interaction there was with the models. She obviously knew that I'd stepped onto the other side of the camera with her and her daughter, Maybe she assumed that was the norm. "About that..." "Oh, you don't have to explain yourself to me Carly." "But I want to I want you to understand ... uh, how I feel ... how much I care for you" the word love didn't seem appropriate in the circumstance. "I don't want to do anything that hurts you." "We can talk about it over lunch ... I'll come by the studio about twelve-thirty?" "Great! I'm so looking forward to seeing you ... I lu ... I'll, uh see you then." It nearly slipped out at the end of the call. Choosing what I was going to wear just became a lot harder. My usual around the studio scruffy shorts and T shirt were out. I chose a peasant style dress, at least that's what it used to be before I shortened it. Originally it had come down to my mid calf now it barely came below my mid thigh. I liked it because the blousy bodice allowed me to go braless. Somehow the way the dress was cinched below the bust line provided just enough support. It was a sort of floral print material in muted earth tones, browns and greens with an occasional splash of yellow. The lemon yellow thong matched nicely although I didn't think anyone would know. Finally, I scanned the frames I kept the wigs on and chose the chocolate brown with red highlights. The wigs were by far the most expensive items in my wardrobe. It was remarkable how dramatically they changed my appearance. I didn't use much make up, just enough to enlarge and accent my hazel eyes. A twirl in front of the mirror won my unconditional approval. It wasn't often that I took stock of myself like this. With the big four-oh just around the corner, and the fact that I was meeting the first woman I had dated in years, it seemed appropriate. My business was assessing the photographic potential of young ... very young women, so I had to make adjustments and allowances in the way my eyes normally scanned a female frame. I had no difficulty in appreciating a more mature figure; I just didn't do it very often. My business and my passion led me in another direction. For good or bad, it also provided a significant amount of sexual fulfillment. What was completely missing was a relationship. It was a hole in my life that I guess I was sort of aware of, but I just kept busy and didn't think about it. Somewhere deep in my mind—in those unguarded introspective moments that I avoided—the feeling that I had reached, or was rapidly approaching, my 'best if used before date' had tried to gain a foot hold. More and more, when that feeling tried to emerge, I self-medicated. 'Captain Jack'll get ya by tonight ... and take ya to y'er special island... ' I had never imagined meeting a girl like Caitlin and, as it turned out, her mother was way beyond my wildest dreams. The whole situation had a very fateful feel about it. Fate or not, it wasn't a slam-dunk. Heather and I had formed a relationship that went far deeper than sex but there were still doors on both sides that were closed. I knew intuitively, not through any personal experience, that all of those doors had to open if our relationship was going to flourish. I was in the studio a little after ten and was pleased with the bids on my latest submissions. I entered final negotiations with one site on the Megan and Charley shoot. Then I checked my calendar and cursed the fact that I had a wedding gig booked for Saturday. It wasn't spending most of the day taking picture after boring 'been there done that' picture of the happy couple and their friends that annoyed me. It was the day or day and a half of editing proofing and publishing time—which paid squat—that irked me. 'It's a fact of life Carly! Like taking out the trash or washing the dishes ... ya may not like it but ya still gotta do it.' I checked and memorized the where and when, reminding myself to look into a PDA soon, and then I started on the Lucie shoot. I should have been doing Lisa's session but I was pretty confident it was OK, just the usual adjustments to make. I wasn't nearly as confident about lovely little Lucie and Gina's package. There was something about getting into the action that always fuzzed my memory as to which shots I'd got and which ones I imagined. I never appeared in my photo shoots but the resolution from the video cameras was good enough to clip some stills—if you didn't have to crop too aggressively. The videos with me in them went into my personal library. Sometimes I thought of it as a retirement fund. Maybe when I'm old and gray and out of the business I can sell them; if the technology holds up that long. Fat chance of that! Two years ago I was shooting with a five mega pixel camera. Now I was using a twelve and twenty was on the horizon. In ten years it'll probably be holograms and three D. The first part of the shoot was predictably OK. I did some preliminary editing and then went to the video to see what I could use. The stills stopped around where the girls were showing their inner recesses. Just looking at the adolescent beavers being held open like that; seeing the obvious wetness as I tweaked the contrast, had my pussy humming a gay tune. When I entered the frame for the clitoral size comparison the enchanting memory of the sweet virginal aroma overtook me. I wondered if they'd ever be able to incorporate scent into a digital image. Just as I thought; my head was in the way of getting any usable stills—at least from the first part of the video. I should have fast forwarded but instead I just sat there watching myself snacking on teenaged pussy and getting hotter by the second. I didn't even hear her come in. Only when I felt her breath on my ear saying "You certainly have some fabulous perks in your job," did I realize that my luncheon date had arrived. I jumped and spun around. As always, seeing her plucked the strings of my heart. Her dress was white with medium size blue polka dots and accented her curvaceous frame magnificently. The deep red tussled hair framed her gorgeous smiling face. I realized that my expression must have been more transparent than I would have thought when she performed a little pirouette and said "hungry?" Our breasts did not quite mesh as I hugged her. Although we were virtually the same height, her under wire bra supported her magnificent tits and held them higher than my supportive peasant dress could manage. My already simmering pussy melted like wax when I felt her warmth in my arms. Our lips brushed tenderly and then engaged softly. A rush of heat washed over me as our sensual kiss progressed. Our tongues met in the space between our teeth and gently greeted each other. The warm waves continued as we took turns exploring each other's mouth. The lingering kiss seemed to last a long time but it was probably only thirty seconds or so. When our lips parted we were both a little breathless. "I've missed you so much," I sighed, looking into her amazingly green eyes. "I've missed you too," she concurred and sounded as breathless as I was. I wondered if she was feeling the heat from my pussy where our pelvises touched. She hadn't had the benefit of the pre-game show that I had. "I made reservations at D'Angelos; you know how busy it gets at lunch time. If we do any more of this we'll never make it." I knew she was right. The urge to throw her on the desk or the floor and ravish her was getting stronger by the second. Reluctantly I released her and picked up my bag. "You're right ... as usual." "I love that wig on you. I haven't seen that one before," she complimented as I locked the studio. "This is actually fairly close to my natural shade ... maybe I should let my hair grow back in." "I don't know about that, after all the wigs give you a lot of flexibility," she countered. "Yeah, not to mention that I've got a small fortune invested in them." For some reason that made us both giggle. We were approaching the restaurant reception desk and I was thinking I'd never felt happier in my life. I wondered what sort of work had gone on years ago in the elegantly furnished space, with the high ceilings, exposed hewn beams and bare brick walls oozing mortar. I was sure the men who had toiled here would have never envisioned the white table linens and silverware that now occupied their workplace. We ordered a bottle of wine and we both decided on the special; angel hair pasta with a cream sauce. The waiter poured the wine and we were left gazing at each other over the long stemmed crystal as we sipped. Heather's expression changed. She looked serious. "Carly, I think I owe you an explanation," she began. As much as I wanted to hear what she was about to say, I felt the urge to relieve her of the perceived responsibility. "You don't owe me anything sweetheart." "But I do! You deserve to know how I came to be here ... to be the way I am. I think—if I can make you understand—it'll all make more sense to you." I couldn't help feeling very nervous. I had so wanted her to let me into her private world, to let me help her with the burden she seemed to be carrying, but now that it seemed that she was going to, it scared me. I wished I'd ordered whiskey instead of wine. "Really, you don't have to explain—," "Just hear me out," she interrupted. She was no longer looking at me. Her eyes were downcast, apparently inspecting the color of the wine. "I was ... I am married," she announced as though it was a crime. "I was with him for seventeen years" she said talking a big gulp of wine. "I would have left him years ago if it weren't for Caitie. I didn't think it was fair to deprive her of a stable home life, and I could never quite figure out how to do it." The next gulp drained the glass, so I refilled it. "The funny thing is I never did figure out how to do it ... I just went ahead and did it!" the last part came out as a sob. I wished we weren't in a public restaurant so I could physically comfort her. "The details don't matter; let's just say he fooled around on me one too many times. I decided Caitie was old enough to understand and we left." "We were living in a small city in Wyoming and I have an aunt who lives ... uh, used to live in Sacramento. I had talked to her about leaving Hank a couple of times but not recently. She'd always been very supportive and told me that if the day ever came that I was welcome at her place any time. I tried to call her the day I finally snapped but couldn't reach her. I ... I just planned it so badly... uh, that's just it I didn't plan it AT ALL!" The tears were rolling down her cheeks and my heart was breaking. The waiter very professionally put our meals in front of us and acted as though he saw distraught wailing women everyday. He seemed to pay no attention to my lunch date's weeping whatsoever. "Do you feel like eating ... or should we go some place more private?" I suggested. She looked up dabbing her tearful green eyes with the linen napkin and said, "I'm starved; aren't you?" with that she picked up her fork and dug in. She seemed to regain her composure as we ate. There were very few tears as she recounted her flight from her Wyoming home, running out of gas in the Nevada desert, their rescue by the cactus farmers and her subsequent arrest. She looked around furtively and said, "That was the first time I ever had sex with another woman." She whispered and partially covered her mouth in case there was a lip reader watching us. It was the first time she'd smiled since we sat down. "Caitie had never had sex of any kind before we stumbled into the lesbo haven." She giggled as she scooped up the last of her pasta. "You didn't resent the people who took advantage of your daughter?" It was more of an incredulous statement than a question. She returned my surprised expression with a thoughtful one. "I never thought of it in those terms. I had been mistreated by a man, not physically but emotionally. All Caitie ever got from Peggy and Abbey was loving care. I wish I'd known at her age what I know now." "And now the modeling ... you're so cool with that too." The waiter offered a desert menu when he collected the plates, we both declined. I decanted the last of the wine. "Who buys your work?" she asked smiling contentedly. "Well generally there are a few websites that..." "And how do those sites make money?" she interrupted. "People pay a—" "By people you mean men," she interpreted again. "Yeah I'd say their subscribers are predominantly men," I agreed. "They pay you well because they charge their patrons a lot of money ... right." I nodded. "Serves the bastards right ... they're paying through the nose for something they can never have and indirectly they're giving the money to Caitie and me." Her smile looked vindictive as she swallowed the last of her wine. 'Whoa' I thought 'she's well on her way to becoming a man hater.' I paid the check and we left the restaurant, hand in hand. "Can we walk a while ... do you have time?" she asked sweetly. Did I have time? I had all the time in the world (as does everybody else) it was only a question of how I would spend it; and I could think of no way I'd rather spend it than with her. "Of course" I replied. We headed it the direction opposite to the studio. We were still in the century old industrial area but away from the part that had been remodeled onto a chic shopping district. Here the buildings had the small mostly broken windows and looked quite deserted. When we reached the railroad track I turned to go back. "Let's go this way" my intrepid companion suggested. We turned the corner between two buildings and walked between the back of the red brick structure and the abandoned railway siding. The route would take us back behind the building my studio was in. We were walking hand in hand enjoying the closeness, savoring the company—which is why, I think—we didn't notice the sun disappear. The first sharp crack of thunder followed by the low rumble startled us. Drops of rain the size of shot glasses fell widely spread from the black sky. I noticed an old wooden sliding door that wasn't completely closed and dragged Heather inside just as the sky opened up and the rain fell in sheets. As I stepped into the vacant warehouse—or whatever it used to be—I turned back toward the door. I had yanked my red haired friend so hard when I entered that her momentum caused us to collide, face to face—no, more like boob to boob. We hugged and broke into gut busting laughter. When it subsided Heather said "whew that was close!" We were looking into each other's eyes again and our faces were inches apart. We kissed tenderly at first sucking and exploring each other's mouths and tongues. I felt an urgency growing in my panties and from her movements I knew she felt it too. I cupped her round firm ass cheeks through her dress and squeezed. Within seconds she was reciprocating. We kissed and fondled bums for a minute or two. It was Heater who decided to escalate and flip my skirt out of the way. Her small soft hands now caressing my bare cheeks sent wonderful tingly pleasure sensations out in every direction. I lifted the back of her skirt and returned the favor. Her warm silky skin felt so fabulous in my hands. She moaned into my mouth as our lips and teeth nibbled. She pulled back far enough for our eyes to meet again. "You make me so fuckin' horny," she breathed. Thunder rumbled outside and the storm brewing between my legs answered with rumbling of its own. I reached up between us and put my hands on her awesome boobs. I couldn't begin to encompass them with my small hands but I caressed and pushed them together feeling the stiff lace and seams of her supportive undergarment through the dress. When she reached behind her neck her titties were thrust even more towards me. I dug my finger tips into the mounds in the very front and located the difference in texture that defined her areolas. I scratched at them feeling the center rise and stiffen. I realized when she reversed her arm position and reached up her back, that she was pulling the zipper of her dress down. I moved my hands out of the way long enough for her to pull the polka dot material off her shoulders revealing the pretty white lacy bra. The top of the dress fell and hung from her waist as I returned to my tittie massage. I could now clearly see the rising pegs of her nipples poking against the fabric of the bra. I gripped the prominent bumps between my thumb and forefinger and squeezed. Her hands were behind her again. This time they released the many hooks that secured the wide back strap. She shrugged the shoulder straps off and I allowed space for her to remove the bra. Even though I had seen her tits many times they never failed to give me a pussy clenching thrill. The red head's very fair skin was nearly translucent where it was perpetually stretched by the full roundness of her breasts. The stimulated areolas shone a shade of shocking pink and the nipple was a shade or two darker standing out from the three inch circle by nearly an inch. The urge to suck on them was irresistible. Lashing the rubbery peg with my tongue Heather put her hands behind my head and mashed my face into the abundant soft pliable flesh. My right hand kept busy squeezing and teasing her other nipple. The half naked redhead was grunting and groaning her approval of the oral tribute I was paying her bosom. I was aware that she had pulled her dress up and had her hands between her legs. Over the musky, mildewy stale air in the long vacant space I caught the aroma of her arousal. I was compelled to taste it. I sank to my knees not even caring how dirty the floor was and pulled the crotch piece of her thong aside. Heather held her skirt out of the way with her forearms and used her fingers to pull her fleshy labia apart. The next of my lover's magnificent sexual treasures came into view. Her clit stuck straight out the size of a baby's finger like a miniature dick. I ran my tongue over the smooth inner surface of her labia, stretched taught by her fingers. The thick juice coated my tongue and I drank it down with pleasure. "Oh God Carly ... oh God ... please suck it!" she wailed. I obliged, taking the girl cock in my mouth sucking gently and simultaneously rolling it under my tongue. Her fingers were entwined in the brown wig and if it weren't for the amazingly secure fit she might have pulled it off. I continued to suck and lap at her clit until I felt her go rigid and begin to shake violently. She didn't scream but the groan of release came from deep, deep inside, right up from her core. The rain had tapered off to a steady deluge. The occasional peel of thunder now sounded far away. He might have remained hidden. We'd probably never have known he was there if he hadn't made the unintelligible sound. We both looked in the direction of the unexpected noise. As luck would have it—our good luck and his bad—just then a flash of lightning illuminated the chamber. In that split second we couldn't determine much except that there was someone else in the abandoned workplace. "Come out of there," I shouted authoritatively as Heather pulled her dress back up, not bothering with the bra. As soon as I'd said it I got nervous. I started thinking about what I had that could be used as a weapon. 'We have no idea what we're dealing with here! We could both wind up getting raped or robbed ... or both.' If our audience was planning to attack it was certainly being cagy about it. When the next flash happened it lasted a little longer. Since we knew where to look this time we could see that it was a youngster and not the boogey man. Not that youngsters couldn't be dangerous but realizing that I was dealing with someone close to my size plucked my courage. "Come out here right now!" I ordered. There was still no movement from the dark recesses. "Come out of there ... I've got a gun," 'Did she?' I wondered as soon as my red-haired playmate had said it. What emerged from the shadows was a boy. Even in the open part of the room the light wasn't great. My first guess at age was twelve or so. He was about the same size as Heather and I. He had a cute face; to be kind I guess I should say handsome—but no, he was cute. His hair—there was no determining color in this light—looked kind of shaggy. He wore baggy jeans and a T shirt. "What were you doing back there ... spying on us?" my lover demanded. It was a hell of an accusation given that he had to be in there before we'd come in. "Uh ... uh no, I just came in to ... to get outa the ... the rain," he pleaded. He stood there looking scared out of his wits with his hands folded in front of him. The dim light and the clasped hands weren't sufficient to completely hide the pole that was tenting the front of his pants. Seeing the size in relation to the boy I had to revise my age estimate. 'He's gotta be thirteen or fourteen to be sporting a member like that!' I was much better at guessing the ages of girls. "What should we do with him, Carly?" The question caught me by surprise. I hadn't really thought about it so I said nothing. "We could turn him over to security ... tell them we found him trespassing." The poor kids face got even tighter if that was possible. "Or we could call his parents ... why aren't you in school?" "Noooo, don't call them!" he wailed out in terror. As 'Foghorn Leghorn' (ya know the big Looney-Tunes cartoon rooster with the southern accent) used to say 'Nice kid ... not too bright!' How in the world were we going to call his parents if he didn't give us the number, or at least his name. We couldn't force him to do either. Even turning him over to security was hard to imagine. Nevertheless the boy apparently believed we could and that's all that mattered. "Maybe we should take him back to your studio and teach him a lesson," Missus Logan offered a third alternative. This one struck a chord with me. Not since way back in my days with the Mitchells had I worked with males. That stirred the memory of the long sought after letter, and the expectation that I was going to see my long lost childhood friends soon. Just thinking about them gave me courage—you know, because Amy and her mom had balls; but not—ah you know what I mean. "Yeah why don't we do that." I agreed not really thinking it was going to happen. We were just putting a massive scare into the poor kid; and that would be that. Luck was with us again (that is Heather and I) the rain had tapered off to a gentle shower and even that seemed to be rapidly dissipating. "OK come on!" The redhead grabbed the teenager's arm aggressively, "and remember ... I've got a gun." Only a frightened, and furthermore timid, youngster would have believed her since she made no effort to provide any evidence of a weapon. We'd only walked about a hundred yards along the railroad track side of the complex when the rain stopped all together and the sun began to peek through. Our pace was quite a bit more brisk than the stroll we'd taken from the restaurant. Heather was in the lead towing the woeful boy, and I was following. I was glad we were approaching the studio from the back, a practically never traveled direction; because although the teenager wasn't really resisting he was obviously also not going along willingly. If we'd run into anybody it certainly would have looked suspicious. 'What if he starts screaming HELP or something?' I managed to push that thought aside when we were climbing the stairs. I unlocked, we entered, and I relocked the door. I had no idea what was supposed to happen next, but it was her game; I was counting on Heather to have some sort of plan. She made a throwing motion, virtually flung the boy toward the center of the studio. I was impressed with her strength. The youngster was our height but several pounds lighter; skinny. "So you like to peep, do you?" Heather demanded. "No ... I ... I was just—" "Did you like what you saw?" she pressed, ignoring his defense. "No, I just went in ta get outta the rain," our young man explained looking as if he were about to cry. "You didn't like what you saw?" Heather queried, picking up on the 'No' and ignoring the rest. "That says different," she continued pointing at the boy's still evident erection. "Were you playing with yourself while you were peeping?" He groaned, and it might have meant anything. "I'll bet you were ... would you like to see again ... here, where the light is better?" She was unzipping her dress. The crazy thought that occurred to me was 'he's gonna be spoiled for all time ... only if he is very lucky will he ever see as beautiful a pair of tits again.' Heather shrugged her dress and let it drop to her waist. The boy's eyes were as wide as saucers and he gasped pathetically. Hell, I gasped! "What'd ya think?" she taunted cupping her large melons and strumming her thumb over her semi-erect nipples. His adolescent dick answered for him, doing a jig inside the baggy jeans. "Drop your pants I wanna see it," she commanded. He just stood there looking as scared as anyone I'd ever seen. I, on the other hand, recognized the potential and picked up the Canon from the desk. If he noticed me, or what I was doing I'd be surprised. His eyes, looking painfully wide open, were understandably riveted on the redhead's chest. "Come on," she started again, but this time in a soothing sort of pouty tone; "ya know ya want to ... show me what a big boy you are." She lifted her substantial boob and lowered her head but did not take her eyes off our prey. When she started to suck on her own nipple I thought he would collapse. His face was as red as a beet as though he was straining to do something; I'm not sure what. It took a couple of tries and I'm sure much longer than usual but his horribly trembling hands eventually managed to unfasten the jeans. The freefall to the studio floor was followed by a soft thud as the heavy material pooled around his sneakers. The waistband of the adolescent looking white jockeys didn't make contact with his flat stomach because it was being held out in front of him by his rigid member. "Underpants too," Heather prompted applying her full glossy lips to her other tit. The cotton briefs cleared his pole with surprising ease and landed on top of his jeans. I hadn't seen very many cocks in the flesh. Twenty years ago I'd seen a few adolescent ones but since then it had been mainly internet images. I wasn't looking for them but they were often mingled in with my work which I wanted to make sure was represented properly. Our prey seemed to be developing very nicely. If I had to estimate I'd have guessed that he was pretty close to six inches long. A little on the skinny side for my taste—in dildos that is—but looking quite serviceable standing out not quite perfectly vertical. It was the twitching that got to me. Obviously I'd never had a boner but his looked painfully hard; like it might explode. I imagined his pain would be sort of like the ache I was experiencing in my clit right now except multiplied by the size differential. 'He must be dying from the pain' I deduced. "What's your name sugar?" she asked. She'd stopped sucking her nipple and was now just thumbing the one inch saliva coated red pegs she'd raised. "Darin," the boy said in a hoarse croak. "Well Darin is it really, really hard ... harder than ever before?" The boy evidently took this as an indication that he should check. As soon as his hand moved toward his dick Heather stopped him. "Huh-uh mister no touching ... get your hands back at your sides, or Miz LaRoche here will call security and we'll say we caught you breaking in here." The youngster groaned loudly and I could feel his pain as I moved to snap more shots from a new angle. Once again the boy seemed to believe the bogus threat. His hands were back at his sides—clenching and unclenching. Heather hooked her thumbs in the cinched waist of her dress and pushed it the rest of the way down. Stepping out of it she laid it neatly over my desk chair. All she had on now was the tiny white thong and her medium heeled strappy sandals. 'My God she's gorgeous' I thought and not for the first time. The boy could have gone through every men's' magazine on the rack and not seen anything half as stunning as the real live woman who was standing all but naked ten feet in front of him. "Have you ever seen a pussy sweetie-pie?" the torturing redhead asked, toying with the crotch piece of her panties. Darin's tremors were more pronounced and visible than ever. He made a sound but it was completely unintelligible. "Did you see mine back there in the warehouse ... or whatever that was?" He was shaking his head in the negative, apparently having given up on trying to speak. I was standing shooting the young man in profile. When I looked back at her she was playing peek-a-boo with the crotch of the thong. Revealing most of one side of her vulva then re-centering it so she was covered again, only to repeat the teasing maneuver on the other side. She never quite exposed the puffy pink lips that I knew were protruding down the middle. "You're sure you didn't see it ... maybe just a little bit when Carly went down on me?" The teenager was still shaking his head. His eyes were starting to look a little glassy. His cock was twitching and he was still alarmingly red in the face. 'Is it possible for a fourteen year old to have a heart attack from this kind of stimulation?' I doubted it but I wondered if the odds of calling 9-1-1 were higher than those of calling the tenant security office. "I bet you liked watching that ... didn't you?" She was getting more aggressive with the movement of her panty crotch. Now her long inner pink flaps did come into view for an instant each time she moved it to the side. "I'll bet you wished it was you down there licking my pussy didn't you?" The sound he made this time was surprisingly soft. That was the first I really paid any attention to his testicles. His scrotum hung loosely between his thighs and the round orbs suspended in it looked quite large next to his skinny legs. When Heather asked him about licking her pussy I saw his balls jerk. If I'd been a more experienced heterosexual lover I would have recognized the significance. "Do ya wanna see it?" my red haired lover teased again, this time pulling the crotch piece all the way to the side. It was plainly too much for young Darin to bear. The pressure and pain were greater than his unfounded fear of punishment. He grabbed his dick with his right hand and made two, maybe three, really quick strokes before the jet of pearly white jism shot almost three feet in the air. The guttural primal cry made even my pussy twitch and a second and third blast of pubescent cum shot skyward briefly before joining the little but growing puddle at his feet. "Fuck!" Heather spat in apparent disappointment. She grabbed her dress off the chair and her purse (into which she had stuffed her bra about an hour ago) and marched toward my little three piece washroom. "Call security Carly ... have the little prick arrested," she snorted and disappeared inside the bathroom closing the door behind her. I was shocked, shocked and dismayed at how pissed off she'd gotten. I mean what did she think was gonna happen? Did she think she could torture the poor teenager all day? I watched her stomp off, and then turned back toward Darin. Our young prey had initially sunk to his knees and then collapsed onto his naked ass. He was sitting there on the floor still holding his shrinking cock while his other hand clutched his balls; rocking and moaning as if the experience had had an element of pain to it. I just had to reach under my skirt and give my aching coochie a few encouraging strokes. The crotch of my thong was saturated and I knew it was very soon going to need a lot more than a couple of brief love pats. I licked my fingers clean and then hoisted the skinny young man to his feet. He looked positively dazed and confused; 'out of it'. I pulled his briefs up, stuffing his still not completely deflated boyhood in as best I could. When I had his jeans back on and fastened I stuffed a business card in his pocket and whispered; "I think it'll be better for all of us if you're not here when she comes out." Then I ushered him out the door. The cleaning supplies were in the washroom so I threw a couple wads of facial tissue on the pool of semen until I could do a proper clean up. Heather emerged fully dressed and looking much more composed. "He's gone," she said quietly. "Uh-huh." "Good riddens!" she snapped. I had never seen this side of her. The pent up anger wasn't healthy. "I should be going," she said and kissed me on the cheek. I thought there was a note of regret in her voice. "I've got lots more to tell you, but I can't ... I can't right now," then she was out the door and gone. I sat at my desk for a long time after Heather left. A slide show of the Lucia, Gina shoot flashed on the screen. I watched it but I didn't see it—if you know what I mean. Thoughts were tumbling through my mind crashing into and falling over one another. My normally structured organized brain was scrambled; too many unresolved issues roaming around in there. I half filled the coffee cup from the square bottle out of the bottom drawer. First and most immediate was my relationship with the spectacular Missus Logan. Our lunch date had been very rewarding and informative. If we'd left it at that I wouldn't have been as confused as I was. Heather's vindictive, mean treatment of the boy bothered me. I thought she was becoming a man-hater now I knew she had arrived. Why did a bad experience with one man translate into a hatred of the whole gender? Lots of women had multiple bad experiences with men and didn't react so unilaterally. I didn't know that much about her long marriage. In fact I knew a lot more about her conversion to lesbianism than I did about what caused it. 'Maybe it was a lot worse than I can understand' I speculated. Anyway the upshot in my mind was that she needed help; counseling of some kind. I was sure that it was way beyond my capabilities and knowledge, but even if I convinced her to get professional help, did I have the fortitude to see her through it. I refilled my cup having serious doubts. Then there was the sexual confusion that she was responsible for creating. I couldn't deny that I'd gotten really turned on by Darin's raging hard-on. I'd never had sex with a male. It was nearly twenty years since I'd even been in a romantic situation with one. Was I having regrets? Was I bi-curious in the opposite way that Heather had been? 'This is a fine time to be questioning your sexual orientation ... on the verge of making the first relationship commitment of your life.' The third troubling thought was my impending reunion with the Mitchells. I could not really get my head around it. 'What the hell do I want from that ... from them? You must want something or you wouldn't have spent so much time and effort over the last twenty years to contact them.' I didn't know what it was. Somewhere along the way the obsession of finding them had obscured and almost obliterated the reason for it. The second cup of sour mash didn't last as long as the first, but when I refilled this time the well ran dry. I cursed. 'What would I say ... how would I feel when I hugged them for the first time in so many years; and then what? We sit and chat for an hour; so what have you been up to ... are you having a nice life? ... see ya later! In my heart I knew it was so much more than that but I hadn't allowed myself to think about it. The ever increasing likelihood that I would never find them caused me to build a wall—a wall to deflect the disappointment. I built it high wide and strong. Nothing could hurt me as long as I kept it in good repair. Patch up any cracks right away with Tennessee Whiskey No. 7. I really needed to get my head straight before they called; would they call? How did they feel about all of this? 'Now there's a question you'll absolutely never be able to answer.' Part of me demanded that I throw myself into my work where everything was known and easy. It would be a battle with the side of me that was saying 'reinforce the wall.' I left the studio just before five; another day with next to nothing done. A quick stop to pick up a fresh bottle and I was still home by five-thirty. I made myself a simple dinner and at least managed to get undressed this time before I collapsed, emotionally exhausted, into a fitful sleep. |