Connected Podcast

Training the Trophy

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Mon, 29 Jun 2026 13:14:00 +0000

Training the Trophy

Finding the Ultimate Trophy Wife.

by Sustainer. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

No matter what they may admit to, every man desires to have an obedient, submissive, beautiful trophy wife. Conversely, every woman secretly desires to be a perfect, subservient possession who is adored and cared for, objectified and kept captive while provided firm direction and absolved of all guilt surrounding sexual latitude- since her sexual conduct is no longer her choice, but rather, her solemn and sacred marriage duty. Every man wants this. Every woman secretly longs for this. Through luck and industry, I have become a wealthy man. This alone is infinitely attractive to women. No matter what they may claim or espouse, how much they assert their feminism or independence, a woman desires a wealthy man to provide for them and offer financial security. Other than my wealth, and my sexual appetite, I am an utterly unremarkable man. Some women, more than you may imagine, are willing to exchange their full sexual servitude in for financial security and social status. My wife is such a woman.

I found her in a gentleman’s club. An upscale topless club where young women danced on stage in lingerie and revealing costumes, performing exotic dance routines for assembled clients while revealing their breasts and stripping to a G-string. Following their performance, the young girls would circulate among the patrons, making small talk and soliciting private lap dances in a more private setting in the back rooms of the club for large tips.

This was the perfect resource to find what I was looking for. Firstly, it acted as a kind of living catalog. Without the absurd constraints and antiquated conventions of “dating”, I could quickly review a large number of potential trophy wives before beginning the indoctrination into my marriage and trophy wife training and optimization program.

I am a businessman, and as such, I admire efficiency and a well-run process. In advance of my trophy wife assessment and selection I consulted with a friend who is a marriage counselor and a behavioral psychologist. He holds a Ph.D. in training psychology. After describing my objectives to him in obtaining the ideal trophy wife, he and I worked together closely under contract for months to create an optimal, scientifically configured, trophy wife selection, indoctrination and training program. This included an ongoing maintenance and administration routine for my eventual trophy wife. Once our perfect trophy wife curriculum was developed, I simply went to various upscale gentleman’s clubs to locate the very best trophy wife to my specific tastes and purposes.

She must have brown hair and brown eyes. Round cheeks and a full face with a round nose. Preferably European in heritage.

While her figure must fall within very specific parameters for hip measurement, leg length, buttocks shape, overall height and weight, her breast size and shape are not critical at intake since modern breast augmentation surgery means that any girl can have any breasts.

Perfect breasts exactly to my liking would be an add-on at a specific phase of the acquisition and indoctrination process. In fact, consultation with the cosmetic surgeon who was already contracted to perform my prospective trophy wife’s optimization had given me specific guidelines to look for in shopping for the right candidate. It was best to start with a young girl, 18-20, who was a 32 or 34 B cup bra size. This would be the perfect platform for creating a large, firm, high-breasted girl who would be a tailor-made 32-34DD cup after upgrade. After her work was completed, she would have large, firm, high breasts with dark, upturned nipples atop big areolae that puffed out from her tits in a constant state of erection and apparent arousal.

Her hips should be full, her buttocks round, firm and elevated, her waist trim and narrow, tapering down from her curvy, reproductive hips. Her legs should be moderately long with adequately full, not too-skinny calves and healthy, firm thighs since stockings are a particular fetish of mine, among many others. The perfect selection would be free of tattoos and, in the best of worlds, have nipples that were already large and dark in color, symmetrical and outsized to her breast size so they would scale up nicely to her new, much larger breasts. Puffy nipples are the most desirable, but if all other pre-existing physical factors are excellent, my cosmetic surgeon told me about a procedure whereby nipples and areolae could be enlarged, darkened and made to protrude more to my liking. I personally inspected a young girl he had performed the puffy-nipple enhancement procedure on, and the results were remarkable.

Once my selection criteria, recruiting and indoctrination processes were finalized, I went out looking.

After several enjoyable weeks of shopping at local gentleman’s clubs there was an epiphany. A young girl, 5'3" tall, long, brown hair, enormous brown eyes, swaying hips, round buttocks and the most beautiful face and button nose I had ever seen, sat in my lap and asked if I wanted a dance. It was impossible to refuse. I suspected immediately that I had found my quarry.

She danced for me as I reclined in a lounge chair in a private room, swaying in the shadowy light to soft music, then straddling my lap, stripping off her sheer, lacy bra, grabbing my hands and placing them directly on her breasts. Then she began to gyrate on my swelling erection, clad only in a little, shiny black thong panty. She leaned forward, pressing her tits to me, and whispered in my ear, “Back here you can do almost anything you want. $100 a song Sir.”

I felt her natural tits, and they were quite nice, likely a large “B” or “C” cup. An excellent starting point. Her hips were full and girlish, her buttocks spectacular and round, the skin smooth and even in tone from what I could see in this light. Her lips were large and I felt them on my neck when I leaned forward. Somewhat unusual for an exotic dancer to kiss a client on the neck. Her arms and legs were beautiful, her overall figure full and round. And that hair, my God, that beautiful mane of cascading, natural brown hair. Luxurious.

The gentle grinding of her thin thong panty crotch on my erect cock inside my pants had me soaked in precum. After three songs, I grabbed her firmly beneath the arms and moved her slightly away from me. She had a slightly surprised expression, then smiled, “Enough?” she asked.

“I have a proposition for you, young lady. Would you be willing to meet outside this club for dinner, for, perhaps, two or three hours? It would only be dinner and conversation, I assure you, in a public place. Nothing to risk. Everything to gain.”

She made an overly quizzical expression.

“Oh. A proposition? Ah. You know we aren’t supposed to be doing that.”

“Five thousand dollars for dinner young lady. And I buy your outfit for the night. No funny business. No sex. Nothing weird. You and I, dinner in a nice restaurant and a few hours of conversation. That’s all. No risk. All reward. What do you say?”

“Um. Sounds nice. Possibly. Maybe…” She cooed. She circled her thong-covered hips one more time on my lap, pressing down on my hard cock inside my pants extra hard.

“You buy one more dance, and I’ll think about it. But I need to know your real name. I’m going to check you out online before I decide. In the meantime, are your pants still getting tighter… and wetter? I’m soaked. My panties are almost soaked through. I’m going to have to go back and change after I’m done with you.”

In Part 2, I make a unique proposal to the young lady

“I am looking for a wife who will perform any and all sex acts with proficiency and enthusiasm at my command. This includes sharing and group sex, bondage, exhibitionism, oral, vaginal and anal sex along with other activities such as performing and appearing in pornographic videos and photographs for public distribution. In return for this arrangement, my wife will live in opulence and receive a generous stipend, along with other material benefits. After a systematic and exhaustive search for the best candidate to be my obedient, entirely promiscuous wife, you are my choice young lady.”

This is what I would tell her tonight at dinner. In addition to a sumptuous dinner in a beautiful restaurant, this would be the offer on the table. It took some time, but the young girl I had found and selected agreed to my dinner invitation.

Knowing that we act how we dress, I had provided her wardrobe for the night: a simple but elegant, snug-fitting black dress with a low neckline, a Frederick’s of Hollywood Exxtreme Cleavage add-2 cup size push-up bra in black satin, a very small, sheer, black G-string panty, nude stay-up thigh-highs and delicate black, strappy, open-toe heels. There was also an elegant pearl necklace and earrings in the ensemble I provided to her. It was a simple outfit, but one that highly sexualized her in an elegant way. To complete her outfit, I included a crystal vial of Yves Saint Laurent Black Opium perfume, because no ensemble is complete without a treat for all of the senses- sight, touch, and smell. She received her wardrobe by courier two days before our dinner date.

Dinner would be at a friend of mine’s restaurant, a five-star place on the river downtown. I reserved the best table and paid the restaurant in advance to remove the two tables closest to us so we could speak candidly without being overheard.

My new little whore was a vision when she stepped out of her Uber. She had cleaned up incredibly well, and the young lady put obvious effort into her appearance for our dinner meeting tonight. That was a promising sign.

Her hair was in loose curls, cascading down her back in a bouncy mane of luxurious brunette. Her make-up was without flaw, understated and elegant. Her lipstick suggested a hint of drama, but was not too apparent. The pearls draped perfectly from her neck to her d colletage, and the little earrings added a well-coordinated finish to her beautiful presentation.

I judged her sizes well. Her firm breasts heaved at the top of the snug, plunging little black dress. The black, add 2-cup-size 34C push-up bra I sent her looked opulent under this dress. Her delicious young cleavage was swollen, soft, round and smooth, bulging up and out of her neckline. I’m sure that tiny, snug little black sheer thong panty was just barely there underneath her dress and above her nude thigh-highs. As a dancer, she was no-doubt waxed smooth down there. This, of course, would remain my ongoing requirement, one of many to come.

She looked absolutely magnificent. Better than I had hoped. She was beginning to seem even more like a fine candidate for a wife.

I held the door, she stepped through. I couldn’t help but notice her pretty little buttocks under the snug, little black dress. It was petite, high, protruding and firm. There was a noticeable sway to her alluring walk. Not a hint of panty line because of the little G-string I sent her. The satiny black fabric of the dress seemed to glide just slightly over her smooth, mostly nude skin underneath. She handled the high heels well for a young girl, no doubt a skill acquired in her profession. Good. Very promising.

The hostess directed us to my table. My little candidate had the poise to stand politely while I pulled her chair out for her to be seated. This was an excellent sign. It meant she was somehow refined. How a little 18-year old topless dancer learned this poise, I had no idea, but it boded well. We sat near the huge window overlooking the river. Best seat in the restaurant. Most private too.

“I hope you enjoy our dinner my dear, and our conversation. You are truly a vision tonight. You look magnificent. Everything fit well, I trust?”

“It did. Not sure how you figured out my sizes so well, but even the shoes, and the other things… They all fit perfectly. Thank you. Ah, do I get to…”

“Keep them?” I returned.

“Yes. Am I supposed to keep all this?”

“These items are yours young lady, for accepting my humble invitation. I appreciate it very much. It’s a delight to be here with you. Truly. You look so beautiful. No one could make this ensemble look as alluring, and my tastes are very discriminating. Actually, you are much more beautiful here, tonight, than at your workplace. That says a lot.”

She sat quietly for a moment, glanced down, then seemed to summon some resolve and looked up at me.

“Thank you.”

There was a noticeable lean forward in her posture suddenly. The waiter appeared at just that instant, introduced himself, took drink orders and left a list of appetizers to start the evening. His arrival quelled whatever it was she had leaned forward to ask.

He stepped away. She began.

“What is this about? I mean, why did you ask me out?”

She was right to the point. Admirable. Suggests that perhaps others had dealt with her less than honestly.

“I want to make a proposition to you. It is a significant one, and I wager it will take some time on your part to fully consider it, as well such a proposition should. Along with my proposition comes a plan. And a proposal. Literally.”

She remained seated upright, but now looking at me with very wide, very brown, eyes.

“I’m interested in recruiting a wife.”

Silence hung in the air. Her posture frozen. Continuing to fix her wide eyes on me. I calmly reached for my water glass and sipped some Perrier. Let the comment hang in the now-heavy air.

She reached for her glass, likely in awkward mimicry but also, I wager, because her mouth was suddenly dry.

“I’m sorry My Dear. Let me explain further. I’m a busy, and systematic man. People say that I am very focused. I say that is normal, and all else is abnormal. When I set about a project, I make a deliberate plan. And I make lofty goals. Excellence in everything I do. Simplicity in my plans. And always, strict honesty and openness. Some people find this awkward.”

I fixed my look on her, not glaring, but looking into her wide, brown eyes with sincerity.

“Young lady, you are perfection. You are beautiful. Beautiful beyond description, and this is a magnificent gift. You are poised. I don’t know how you’ve acquired this quality, but it is rare today. Especially for a young lady. In only the last fifteen minutes since our arrival tonight I’ve observed that in you. The way you stepped out of the car when you arrived. You let me open the door to the restaurant for you. Waited for me to do it. You stood politely and in a dignified manner while I pulled your chair out for you. I’m not sure where you learned these things, but they are valuable to me. Precious even. As valuable as your appearance, which, as I’ve said, is absolutely opulent.”

She appeared to ease somewhat. Soften. But a learned cynicism and caution remained. I could see that.

“So, I am looking for a wife. A beautiful, poised, submissive sexual servant wife. A devoted, capable and willing young lady to join me in life’s finer things. Travel. Entertainment. And especially, sexual activities, a priority of mine. I’m interested in nearly every sexual activity. And I’d like you to join me in them if you find the terms of my proposal, and of course, myself, acceptable and to your agreement.”

Her silence remained. She seemed frozen, taking all this in. I had expected that, so I decided to divert for a few moments and return the conversation to that of a simple dinner date.

“But, enough of this business and life talk. Let’s table my offer for now and simply enjoy the evening and try to get to know each other a little. That is, of course, the first step My Dear, and I am very thorough.”

We placed an order for appetizers and drinks. Neither of us drank alcohol, another good sign. She appeared to relax some as the first course arrived and the conversation lightened.

This story is not about Lady Anne herself, but her little known cousin Lady Mary MacGillivray, a widow in her late 30s, who was also a beautiful Highland noblewoman supporting the Jacobite cause. Because the action takes place in the wild Highlands of Scotland, our characters would generally be speaking Scots Gallic as their first language rather than English, but for the sake of fantasy and to appease you Sassenachs, the dialogue here will be in the English tongue (thank heavens, because I can't speak Gallic!):

Chapter 1

Shouts and a loud bang, followed by the fizz of a musket ball flying past his head, shocked Lachlan into spurring his horse towards the nearby stone tower. Dismounting at the entrance steps, he ran upwards to the solid oak door, banging furiously at the knocker. Within a few seconds, a barred hatch opened and old servant Mackay peered out into the gloom. On recognizing the young man, he unbolted the heavy door, opening just wide enough for Lachlan to enter with his basket-hilted, broad-sword at his side. Once safely inside, Mackay locked the door and Lachlan greeted the lady of the house coming fast down the spiral staircase, alerted by the commotion.

"What is it Lachy?" she asked breathlessly, for she knew the lad, as he was the son of her estate factor.

"The redcoats are coming to arrest you" said Lachlan: "they're fast on my heels".

Without hesitation, she grabbed Lachlan by the arm, dragging him upwards round the stone staircase, calling for Mackay to run home as fast as he could, securing the tower behind him.

"Hurry" she said to Lachlan: "we have a secret place, a priest-hole near the top of the tower, where we'll be safe". Nearing the top of the stairs, Lady Mary stopped suddenly, reaching-up to take a lit candle and pulling downwards on the candle-stick secured to the wall. There was a click, springing a narrow opening, cunningly hidden in the stone. "Quickly, inside" she said, leading him into the darkness.

"My sword" he exclaimed, unbuckling his belt so that he and the scabbard could fit through the narrow doorway. Once they were both safely inside, Lady Mary pushed the door closed and placed the flickering candle into a small lantern above them.

Just in time, for they could hear through the thick walls of their hiding place, the muffled thumps of what was probably an axe at the tower door below, faint shouting and the unmistakable dull banging of musket fire.

The priest hole was a simple narrow cell of only five feet in length and three wide, just tall enough for them to stand upright. It was a tight fit for the two fugitives with Lachlan and Lady Mary facing each other, huddled closely in the semi-darkness.

Soon they could hear the faint sounds of soldiers having breached the door, searching and ransacking the tower. "Don't worry, they'll never find us in here" whispered Mary.

Half an hour passed and things quietened a bit outside, but it sounded like the redcoats had left a small guard, perhaps intending to catch their prey if they returned to the tower from which it seemed they had escaped.

Mary stood silently, pressed against the young Jacobite s chest. She had been married since childhood, now sadly widowed, but After about 10 minutes of the Redcoats futile ransacking, She was completely engrossed by the virile masculinity pressed up against her nipples. His hefting chest and encircling arms awoke her sensual memories of the departed husband of her youth. Lachlan embodied his manliness and his chivalry.
This strapping young buck just laid his life down, to seek to spare her of her life & liberty. While he was always a constant image of her private lusts, She had no idea how requited her desires might be.

Now he was literally shielding her body from harm. She d never dreamed she could, at nearly 40 years of age, could be the preferred mate of a younger man in his mid-twenties.

Lachlan became increasingly aware of the lovely lady sharing his confinement, feeling her body breathing in and out gently, as her fine round breasts pressed against him above her tight corset. He had always thought she was beautiful and shapely for a slightly older woman; and often had fond thoughts of her, some of which while stroking his youthful releases at home in his bed at night.

This well-bred woman of society was known for her understanding of trade & politics. Something he had little insights of. Her fashion and allure set a high standard which the other women of the county would scarcely admit following. But no one could interrupt the market street crowds as she walked by.

This woman was rumored to have rebuffed the suitors above her station in life. For nearly 3 years she remained a widow. Lachlan was the first man that Mary had even been in a private rooms with, since the morning of her late husband s last departure from the estate..

The lady herself had also on occasion admired this handsome young man, with his strong body and she had observed coyly his sturdy thighs and the good sized bulge under his plaid. Having his large masculine frame so close and the musky smell of a man made her lower parts open slightly and moisten as nature had intended.

The lady secretly kept a collection of huge wooden and ceramic dildos under her mattress. It was by accident that Lady Mary discovered her 13 year fetish for monster phallic satisfaction. The couple inherited a bedroom suit from her mother-in-law. The baseboard was hand-carved and rather low-profile, made of Walnut. and the corner posts rose a bit higher, but only to the top of the mattress. Each post had 3-inch rounded spires with a triple helix indented swirl, which started at the bottom of the 6 inch finials, and tapered to a point, which appeared to have a more weathered and re-oiled look, than the other parts of the woodwork.

One night, Mary was excited for bedtime with her husband. She had a skimpy lace chemise which her husband had never seen. It was racy revealing. Barely covering her ass, and allowing her dark nipples to poke through the bodice lace.

Lusty and climbing into bed early. Her husband said he d be 20 minutes behind her. She placed a knee onto the bottom corner of the mattress. As she raised her other leg up, her first knee slipped of the edge and slid off the mattress just as she was spread eagle over the finial of the bedpost.

Her legs found the floor, but just after her cunt was impaled by the bedpost, sinking to just beyond the thickest girth of the walnut phallus. It was as she slowly raised her body upward, that she noticed the brief pleasure on her g-spot.

Continuing more carefully into the bed, she pondered the clumsy accident. Then she thought about how she always caught the scent of her mother, when she stood near that baseboard.

After a few more minutes under the sheets, waiting on her tardy husband, Mary s randy instincts and aroused desire drove her to throw off the duvet and stand at the corner of the bed.

She scooted up against the corner and laid her chest down flat on the mattress and tilted her pelvis to make gentle contact with the finial. A fetish was born. It was a reliable and stand-in for when her hubby was away. But it also relieved him of the sole source to pleasure her.

It even helped her focus more on her hubby s sexual needs, now that she knew she d always get herself off when her couldn t. His slender cock was easy on her throat, but not optimal to get her the stuffed feel in her nethers.

For the past couple years she s been watching the young stags like Lachlan. Once when he was caught in a summer storm, he sought shelter in her alcove. When she looked out the window, she saw him just as the wind whipped his kilt up and she saw his turgid thickness for a moment. His shaft was nearly as thick as her wrist.

She was startled back to the present by Lachlan s fumbling efforts to secure his loins.

Without a belt holding his Great Kilt (feileadh mor) together, Lachlan's tartan plaid began to unravel as he stood rubbing gently against Lady Mary; it was gradually revealing his nakedness and increasing tumescence below. Lachlan tried to hold it together, but without room to maneuvers, he could not stop it falling open to revealing his muscular torso and swelling appendage. His large prick was swaying slightly, rubbing against the lady through her fine silk dress and petticoats.

Lady Mary was well experienced in the ways of men, so at feeling Lachy's man-pole throbbing at her groin, her lower parts began to flood with desire and her breasts heave. Looking up into the eyes of the big Scot, she gently said; "Don't worry" she said: "it's nothing to be ashamed of" she gasped at the embarrassed laddie. "Grind into me, I'm loving it" she said shamelessly for a noble lady.

The priest hole was designed to hold one priest, and spare him from Protestant persecution. It can scarcely contain two, even if one is slight of frame. But with a tally whacker of Lachlan s size, He either had to press it into her crotch, or risk prying the secret panel open and thus reveal them to the king s soldiers.

At least 7 times, according to the chronicles of the estate, & the oral traditions of the family s many generations; Priests were forced to seek refuge in this secret nook. One Monsignor McBirney became so fond of the solitude and the times of prayer he had inside that wall, that he often returned for Friday prayers and contrition. He even wrote scriptures and prayers on the timbers.

Lady Mary felt no shame for granting Lachlan s cock to take refuge in her crotch, yet at that moment, their lust was indeed aflame, Lachlan pressed his mouth to Lady Mary kissing her passionately, their tongues dancing together, moans escaping from deep within them. Lachlan grasped his cock at full stand, placing it roughly between Mary's spreading thighs as they ground together. His large hands moved across their two pressed chests, slipping it into her bodice to reveal pert boobs with large pink nipples, which he fondled and tweaked until they rose in peaks at his attention.

The high gable of the attic let in just a trickle of light to faintly see, and even then, One needed several minutes to adjust to the darkness, before some details began to emerge. Just then Lady Mary looked over the man s shoulder, to read;

But whoso hath this world's good, and seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him? 1 John 3:17

"Love me, NOW" cried Lady Mary, so Lachlan reached down between their legs to roughly drag-up her dress and petticoats.

She gasped again at the sheer size of him. She thanked heavens for having birthed three babies that helped her accommodate him.

Over Lachlan s other shoulder, Mary read yet another scripture;

Wherefore they are no more twain, but one flesh. What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder. Matthew 19:6

The new lovers held each other close, gasping and breathing heavily, stroking one another's faces, as if all the troubles of the world were gone-away and all they had was each other forever.

When they felt sure the danger had gone, Lady Mary reached around her young stag to release the latch and open the secret access panel. Lachlan carefully backed out to the stairwell and offered his hand to Mary.

She then saw a prayer that Monsignor McBirney wrote on the inside panel;

As you leave here, remember that you ve been in God s presence, and that he s blessed you with just what you need, to face the challenges you re about to take on. Live in his blessing.

Mary then looked out to the immensely bright stairwell Lachlan s smiling face radiated. He d been successful in his mission to save the Lady. She held his arm as they descended the stairwell.

I owe you my life, my brave man. I do not wish to live without your protective presence. I believe God ordained our fateful time in the wall. I believe I m yours, If you will have me?

Before he could respond, Servants rushed into the home. They d been ordered out by the soldiers and they went to the parish priest to warn him.

As the soldiers rode out of town, the priest returned with the servants. Father O Brien greeted Lady Mary warmly and asked her to join him in a prayer of thanks for God s providential protection.

Yes, oh yes, but May I first introduce you to my champion, Father? Mary insisted. This is Lachlan. He rushed to warn me, and is now a fugitive. Lachlan, please join Father O Brien and me, in prayer.

The three knelt and Pastor Obrien gave thanks. The prayer was a common one. Good priests had so many memorized prayers. But before he said; Amen , he added a prayer for God s anointing on the young man. It was similar to the prayer for those entering military service.

Mary was holding Lachlan s hands with both of her s, during their prayer. As the priest said Amen , Mary reached out to stop him from doing the sign of the cross , and said, Oh Father O Brien. Could you pray another prayer for us? We need a sacrament.

Yes, what blessing are you seeking, my child?

Matrimony, Father.

Lachlan was speechless. He knew he wanted this. He knew this was his destiny. But he also knew society would not tolerate a commoner marrying up; at least not that far up. So he simply smiled at Mary and nodded sincerely to the priest.

When is the blessed sacrament to occur? He seemed confused that he d not heard of this engagement among the town folk.

While we are here on our knees, Father. Mary confidently said.

I m, I m a bit confused and surprised. The priest admitted.
Father, what I ve witnessed these last few hours, is a divine act of God. His providence is on full display. The devotion of this honorable and brave man is a marvel. He is now a fugitive as are you, Father. I owe it to him, to protect him as he has protected me, and both of us are devoted to protecting you. As the savior said; What God has therefore joined together, let no man put asunder.

Two hours later, Father O Brien walked back to the rectory. He and the Lady s servants had sat at the wedding feast as the only invited guests.

The couple retired to the bed chamber early that night. A habit they kept for their entire lifetime.

By Stonemarten for Literotica

Raiders of the Nazi Gold: Part 2

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Sat, 27 Jun 2026 12:13:00 +0000

Raiders of the Nazi Gold: Part 2

Ariella; lethal and lovely.

Based on a post by ronde, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Packed and Stacked.

She was maybe twenty-five, and even in the battle dress she was wearing, she looked slender. I couldn't tell much else about her except she looked a little the Arabic women I'd seen in Afghanistan. I was sure about two things though; the rifle was an Israeli M 89 SR sniper rifle, and she sounded very serious when she spoke.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

Since I was armed to the teeth and had just shot a guy, my story about being a tourist and out taking some pictures wasn't going to work very well. The truth would work better unless she was one of the traffickers. I didn't think she was though. If she had been, she'd have just shot me while she had the chance.

"I'm an American. This guy hired me to track down some gold he thought was hidden in an old led mine. This is where the led mine is supposed to be located. I hadn't counted on there being anybody else here."

She smiled then.

"You'll be Dale Stevenson, right?"

"Yeah. How do you know that?"

She was still smiling.

"We can talk about that later. Right now, we need to take care of the guys who are going to come down that road in a couple of minutes."

Showdown looming.

When the truck finally came into view, the men looked a little hesitant and the woman told me why.

"They're taking it slow because they don't know who's out here. If it was the Argentine Army, the traffickers would have known they were coming and they wouldn't be here. That's because they pay certain people in the Army to protect them. They would just relocate and the Army could appear to be doing their job because they discovered the camp. Once they figure out where we are, they won't stop until we're dead or they are so I hope you're a good shot. During my briefing they said you are."

It was about then the truck came creeping down the road. The woman sighted through the rifle scope and with two quick shots; she shot the driver and smashed in the receiver of the M60.

The men bailed out of the pickup and clustered up behind it, then talked for a while before another man pulled the dead driver out of the truck, got back in, started the engine, and started it back down the road. The other men followed behind it with their rifles ready. When they got close enough to see their faces, most of them looked scared.

The woman was looking through the scope on her rifle when she whispered.

"They're still looking for where the shots came from, Oh, one of them just pointed in the direction of the man you shot. They think the shots came from those rocks over there. They'll keep the truck between them and the rocks until they're pretty close, and then jump out from behind it and start firing at those rocks and any other cover they see. We'll have to take them before they spread out too much. I'll take out the driver and the ones in the lead. You start at the rear and work your way toward the truck."

The truck continued to creep down the road, and when they were about ten meters from the main road, the men began to move up the side of the truck. She took out the driver and that was my signal. I sighted in on the man furthest from the truck and fired.

The whole thing took less than a minute. I saw one man running back toward the camp, but he didn't make it. The woman's shot dropped him face first in the dirt of the road.

Well, like I said, my original intention was to retreat if possible. Now, we'd shot a bunch of people based on what the woman had said, and I didn't have the slightest idea who the hell she was or who they were. The only thing I was sure of was I was in deep shit and it was probably going to get deeper.

I turned to look at the woman. She was in the process of changing magazines on her rifle. She slammed the full magazine into the magazine well, checked the chamber for a live round, and then looked up and smiled.

"I guess you're as good as they said. You only missed twice."

She was beginning to piss me off by telling me what to do and then criticizing me for how I did it.

"Yeah, well, it's been a while since I've been in a firefight. Since you seem to know everything about me and what just happened, what do we do now?"

She stood up, shouldered the rifle, and frowned.

"I've been watching that camp for a week waiting for you to get here, and I counted twelve men. That means there are five left. They'll wait a while for these men to come back, but when they don't they'll send at least two to find out what happened. We need to get to that camp before they do that."

"And what do we do when we get there? I don't really like shooting people when I don't know which side they're on."

She smiled again.

"They're on the side that would kill both of us without even thinking about it. Does that help?"

Moving to a safer place.

We kept to the rocks until we got to the trees, and then made our way to the camp by walking a few meters from the road. Two men were just walking to the second truck when we got there. The woman tapped me on the shoulder and when I looked she pointed at the shack and held up three fingers, the pointed to me.

Without waiting for an answer, she sighted down the scope of her rifle. A second later, the guy starting to climb in the driver's seat grabbed his chest and then fell down. It was maybe two seconds later and after the other guy started running back to the shack that he went down with a bullet in his back.

That was about when the other three came running out of the shack with their rifles. I took them out with three shots. Then, we waited to see if any of them were going to get up or if there were any more in the shack. After five minutes, all was quiet, so the woman stood up.

"That should be all of them. Let's go see what they have in the shacks."

I noticed she didn't shoulder the rifle this time, and she didn't just walk out into the clearing. She ran to take cover behind the truck first. I followed her and kept watching our flanks and rear.

Once we were at the truck, she peeked around it at the shack, then ran the three meters to the corner. Once she was there, she motioned for me. I knew what she wanted me to do because it was a standard method of entering a building used by US Army Rangers. I ran to the other corner. Once I was there, we started working our way to the door.

Her count had been right. There was nobody in the smaller shack. It was evidently sort of a barracks and mess hall, because there were four cots on one side. On the other side was a table and a small wood-burning stove.

We left the shack and repeated the same thing on the larger shack. When we pushed open the door there, I saw the reason the traffickers were there.

Inside that shack and in a clump were six young girls holding on to each other because they were terrified. Two looked like the women I'd seen in Buenos Aires, but the other four were definitely Asian.

The woman rattled off something in Spanish, and then something in what I guessed was French. It looked to me like the girls relaxed a little then. The two Hispanic girls smiled, and two of the Asian girls said something back to her and then started jabbering away at the other two.

The woman turned to me and smiled.

"I just told them we were here to rescue them. The girls who talked to me are Vietnamese girls and they understood French. They said they've been here for two weeks. The other two Asian girls are from Taiwan and they speak Chinese. The two Vietnamese girls are telling them what I said. Now we have to get them somewhere safe. I can take care of that."

The woman pulled what looked like a cell phone from her vest and tapped the screen, then held it to her ear. A few seconds later, she said, "Secure. Six kittens". She got an answer, said, "Ready in fifteen", then tapped the screen again. As she put the cell phone back in her vest, she smiled.

"You're wondering how I got a cell phone to work out here aren't you? It is a cell phone so if I were to be captured, it won't raise any suspicions. It works just like any other cell phone except it will only communicate with our own cell towers. My group has a mobile tower about six kilometers from here. They'll meet us at the road in about fifteen minutes."

Like she said, about fifteen minutes later, a bus drove up and stopped where the road to the camp met the main road. Once the six girls were on board, the bus drove off and left the woman and me standing there in the road. I asked her why she didn't get on the bus too. She smiled.

"I'll tell you on the way back to their camp. We have a few things left to do."

Her story explained a lot about her and how she knew so much about me.

"My name, my real name, is Ariella. You don't need to know my last name.

"Ariella is Hebrew for "Lioness of God". My father named me that because he said I was so much like my grandfather. My grandfather was killed during the rebellion in the Warsaw ghetto. My other grandparents were sent to Treblinka where they were killed.

"My father was ten years old then, and during the fighting, some people in the Polish resistance smuggled him out of the ghetto and into the forest. From there, he was taken to a Catholic monastery where he was baptized as a Catholic so the Germans wouldn't arrest and take him to a concentration camp. He had to learn how to act like a Catholic boy in a very short time, but he was a smart boy and survived the war that way.

"When the war ended, my father was taken to France and placed with Catholic foster parents. He grew up on a vineyard near Langon and learned to speak French, but he never forgot he was Jewish. As soon as he reached the age of nineteen, he left France for Israel and began searching for any relatives who survived the camps. He found no one with the same last name who remembered his father or mother. Instead, he found Miriam, the woman he would marry and the woman who would become my mother.

"Her past was much like my father's, though she was French. Her parents placed her with Catholic friends when the Nazi's began arresting French Jews. She was later taken to Spain and raised by a family there. She was only eighteen when she went to Israel in hopes of finding her family. She found a job to support herself working in the government, and that is how she met my father.

"From my mother, I learned to speak and write Spanish. From both my father and mother, I learned to speak and write French and Hebrew.

"When I was eighteen, I was conscripted into the Israeli Defense Force. Because my testing showed I had an aptitude for languages, when I finished basic and combat training, I was sent to a school to learn to speak and write Arabic. After that school, I was transferred to the Combat Intelligence Collection Corps. I was made part of Sayeret Matkal, the Israeli Special Forces branch that does recon and intelligence gathering behind enemy lines. I can't tell you what I did there.

"When I finished my service, a man came to see me and asked if I'd like to help Israel in a different way. What he told me sounded exciting, so I accepted and became part of the Duvdevan Unit. I spent two years dressed in civilian clothes in several Arab countries gathering intelligence on terrorist organizations. A year ago, I was identified by one of the radical Islamic organizations as an Israeli agent and had to leave the Middle East or I'd have been killed. I was assigned to Argentina to gather intelligence on the Neo-Nazi groups that are located here and to some extent, in Brazil and other South American countries.

"The men we just killed are part of a Neo-Nazi group who call their organization Ahner. They took their name from the Nazi Germany think-tank known as Ahnenerbe. Their ideology is the same as the German Nazi party. They advocate the elimination or enslavement or all races they consider inferior, and they finance their operations by trafficking in sex slaves of those same races. That's what they're doing out here; financing their operations. I was assigned to stop them.

"The camp you saw is a lay-over point between the ports in Chile where they land the girls and wherever they're going next. It might be the brothels in Buenos Aires, Mexico, almost any country including the US. They will kill anyone who tries to stop them. Do you feel better about what we did now?"

I'd heard of the Duvdeven Unit of the Israeli Special Forces, but the name was about all I'd heard. Nobody, not even the CIA guys I worked with, knew much about what the Duvdeven Unit did, or if they knew, they weren't telling anybody. All that was known was they were Israelis who were fluent in Arabic and dressed in the clothing of the local population. Supposedly they infiltrated the ranks of the terrorists and sent that information back to Israel. There were rumors about assassinations of high-ranking terrorist officials, but that's all they were, just rumors.

That knowledge explained a lot of things about Ariella. I knew the Israeli Special Forces are among the most highly trained fighting forces in the world and were as good as our own US Army Rangers and Navy SEALs. To work undercover in the situations in Afghanistan and Iran would require more than training though. It would require an immense amount of self-confidence and as one of my Ranger instructors had once said, "balls big enough to need a wheelbarrow".

It also explained how much she knew about me. The CIA in the Middle East and the Israeli Special Forces have a very close working relationship. All it would take is for someone in the ISF to request information about me and they'd have it. What I didn't understand is why they were interested in what I was doing in Argentina.

"OK, I understand why you're here, but you said you were waiting on me for a week. It's not that I don't appreciate you bailing my ass out of trouble, but why are you so interested in why I'm here?"

Ariella stopped walking then and turned to face me.

"Because Marcus Richter hired you."

I was confused again.

"Richter isn't a Neo-Nazi. He's a dealer in international currencies."

Ariella smiled.

"That's what he told you, and he is, but his story is more detailed than that.

At the end of World War Two, the Allies were looking for a German banker named Heinrich Richter because he was responsible for sending much of the gold pillaged by the German Army to Swiss banks. They wanted his records and his testimony so they could return the gold to the appropriate countries.

Israel was very interested as well, because a significant amount of that gold came from Jews in the countries Germany overran. The Allies were closing in on him when he disappeared. The rumor was he was able to escape to Argentina. Through our intelligence efforts in Argentina, we learned he did indeed relocate to Argentina where he married a local woman with high status in the government. Unfortunately, we learned that information after he died.

"For several years, we monitored the activities of his wife and son, the same Marcus Richter who spoke with you. His mother appears to have retired to an estate in the country with a private nurse, and no one other than Richter visits or telephones her. In our observations of Richter though, it was soon evident he has close connections with several Neo-Nazi groups in Argentina. We suspected he was using his business to launder money for them, but we were never able to positively tie his financial dealings to them. Richter is smart and he uses Swiss banks for all the transfers. Getting information from a Swiss bank is something even Israel can not easily do. The reason is the amount of Nazi gold still held in those banks.

"We needed a way to stop him, so we laid a trap for him. We forged the hallmark on a single gold bar and arranged for another currency trader who supports our cause to contact him. We also planted the story about the submarines through another of our contacts in Argentina, a former member of the ISF who emigrated from Germany to Argentina a few years ago. The man who told Richter about the smelter was another of our contacts who casually related the story to Richter's assistants. The story about the mine and its location has been rumored in Argentina for years so once we had located the smelter for him, Richter assumed the gold must be in the mine, just as we intended.

The rest of the story you already know, except that the money you are being paid came from the treasury of Ahner. We know that information through the efforts of a man who is the son of a Jewish man and his Argentine wife. He grew up in Buenos Aires and is fluent in Spanish. He has infiltrated Ahner and relays information on their activities to my unit."

I was beginning to understand now and I didn't feel good about the whole deal.

"So, there is no gold?"

Ariella smiled.

"We believe there is a cache of Nazi gold somewhere in Argentina, but it is not likely to be found. All the people who knew of it are dead by now and as far as we've been able to determine, they didn't pass the information on to anyone. As for any gold here in a led mine, well, there is a led mine a few kilometers from here, but it doesn't have any gold."

"So I came down here for nothing?"

"Oh no, you are going to be very useful. When you go back and tell Richter there is no gold here, he'll have to relay that to Ahner. In the past, his contracts with Ahner have been that he is paid an advance which would be returned should his work not be successful. Since he will have failed in this attempt, Anher will demand that Richter return the advance.

He won't be able to do that because as we speak, the US is quietly in the process of freezing all his US bank accounts and arranging for a transfer from his Swiss bank would take too long

"It would be my guess that when Ahner can't get their money back, Marcus Richter will suddenly disappear and never be found. That is what happened to the last person who promised something to Ahner and then didn't deliver. As I said, they will kill anyone without even a second thought."

"It sounds like I need to start sleeping with a pistol from now on. Thanks a lot."

Ariella shook her head.

"No. You're in no danger. We know Richter never disclosed your identity to Ahner, and the ammunition for both our rifles and your pistol are common to weapons issued to the Argentine Army and of the same manufacturer. When we leave, I'll leave some evidence that it was the Argentine Army that attacked the camp. That does happen from time to time, usually when some company commander decides he isn't being paid well enough to keep protecting them."

When we got back to the camp, Ariella took off her backpack.

"Now, we make it look like the Argentine Army was here."

She tossed a piece of paper with "RA

Raiders of the Nazi Gold: Part 1

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Fri, 26 Jun 2026 12:12:00 +0000

Raiders of the Nazi Gold: Part 1

I was hired to find lost Nazi gold. I found Ariella instead.

Based on a post by ronde, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

The shiny, black, Mercedes X-Class pickup slowly worked its way down the road about a hundred meters from where I was crouched behind a rock. The fact the pickup was alone and had an M 60 machine gun on a pintle mount in the bed told me this wasn't some unit of the Argentine Army. The Argentine Army might have been driving a Mercedes pickup, but it would have been OD green and the machine gun would have been an FN Mag.

The woman nudged me then.

"They'll be on top of us in a few minutes. I'll take out the truck driver and the M 60. That'll slow them down while they're trying to figure out where the shots came from. They might run then, but if they don't it'll take both of us to take out the rest. Are you ready for that?"

I was ready, because I knew if we didn't take out all of them, we'd be running for our lives. I'd experienced that before. I was a former US Army Ranger with two tours of Afghanistan under my belt before I decided civilian life would be a whole lot healthier.

I had no reservations about what we had to do, though it was going to be tough. With it's short barrel, iron sights, and a tendency to overheat if fired quickly, the HK G 36 C carbine I carried lost accuracy fast after about two hundred meters, so they'd have to be closer than that. I could use the old "spray and pray" technique used by some US Army soldiers before the M4 came out with a selector switch for a three round burst instead of just full-auto fire. The problem with that was I only had a hundred and twenty rounds and they wouldn't last long if I did that. After that, all I had was a 9 millimeter Browning pistol. They'd have to be a lot closer before I had any chance of putting even one down with that.

The woman was in better shape for long range shooting. The Israeli M 89 SR rifle she was crouched behind was accurate out to about a thousand meters if she knew what she was doing, and if she did, the thirty rounds in her magazine would be more than sufficient.

She let the truck get to about seventy-five meters from our position and then put one 7.62 millimeter round through the windshield. The driver slumped down in the seat at the same time her second shot hit the M60 just behind the operating handle and effectively froze the action. The truck turned sharply into a rock and then the engine died. The whole thing couldn't have taken more than about five seconds. The woman definitely knew her way around a rifle.

The three guys in the truck bed and the one left in the cab bailed out, got behind the truck, and started looking for the shooter. They were going to have a difficult time finding us. The suppressor on the M89SR effectively hid any muzzle flash and any dust caused by the gasses exiting the barrel. It also reduced the sound enough that it would be difficult for the guys to pinpoint it since the echo from the mountains made the sound seem to come from all directions.

The woman and I watched them for the next five minutes, and it became obvious they weren't battle-trained troops. They were probably considered a serious threat by the local population, but to me they were just amateurs; well-equipped amateurs, but still amateurs.

They were well equipped because they had money, and money was the reason I was in Argentina in the first place. Meeting the woman was just a lucky accident. Well, that's what I thought at the time. I later found out it was no accident.

How it all started.

The whole thing started six weeks before I found myself with the woman crouched behind a rock and waiting to see what the guys behind the truck were going to do next.

After separating myself from the US Army, I needed some way to keep myself indoors and fed. When I looked at what I knew how to do, planning for close combat and then executing that plan was all I could come up with.

Given the domestic and political climate at the time, a lot of former military men were running self defense schools. After reading about a few of the schools, I decided I could make some money that way too.

I'd been deployed for much of my Army career so most of my Army pay was sitting in my bank. I used half of what I had as a down payment on fifty acres in Eastern Tennessee with a house and barn on it, and built a pistol and rifle range.

I was doing OK, teaching a class a couple times a week in basic gun safety and giving the Tennessee concealed-carry class and test. The other days, I taught advanced courses in long-range rifle shooting and rapid-fire pistol shooting. I also sold targets and ammunition. I wasn't getting rich, but I was able to make the mortgage payments, put food on the table, and keep my fridge stocked with beer.

One afternoon after I'd finished up my class on accurate rapid pistol fire, I was policing brass from the range when a guy in a suit and tie walked up and stuck out his hand. He introduced himself as Marcus Richter.

"Mr. Dale Stevenson; did I get your name right? Ah, good. Mr. Stevenson, I understand you have somewhat of a unique background, a background I would find useful if you agree to my proposal."

I figured he'd gotten that information from my web site. I thought "US Army Ranger" sounded better than "former military" like some of the school web sites used.

I shrugged.

"I can teach you how to fire a weapon and how to defend yourself in an emergency if that's what you mean."

He shook his head.

"No, though the thought has crossed my mind. Fortunately, I have people who take care of those duties for me.

"No, I'm a successful business man in a rather unique business. I trade in world currencies. It is that business that resulted in my visit to your establishment today. I fear the explanation of that business will be quite lengthy, so would it be possible to find a place where we might sit down and out of the sun?"

I'd converted part of the barn into a classroom for my classes, so I led the man there. Once we were seated, he cleared his throat.

"As I said, I am a trader in world currencies and that includes gold and silver in its many forms, from coinage to bullion. My business is of necessity rather secretive, for were some in the precious metal market to have advanced knowledge of my activities, it would have an impact upon the world pricing of said precious metals. It is such advanced knowledge I hope to exploit to my advantage if you agree to perform a service for me, a service for which you will be very well compensated."

I wasn't entirely convinced this guy was on the level, but I had no reason to stop listening to him.

I smiled.

"It sounds like you have some sort of secret mission you want me to do for you."

He smiled.

"Yes, secrecy is of the utmost importance. When you hear the details, you will understand why.

"As you probably know, in the last stages of World War Two, many high-ranking members of the Nazi party and German military realized any favorable outcome to the war was an impossibility. Germany would be defeated and given the atrocities committed, those same people would be prosecuted for war crimes, found guilty, and imprisoned or executed.

"They began making plans to escape before they were captured by the Allies. Argentina was neutral during the war and indeed declared war on the Axis powers a month before the war in Europe ended, but many in Argentina were still sympathetic toward Germany. As a result, Argentina was viewed as a possible haven by those attempting to escape what would surely be their ultimate fate.

"Argentina, in fact, encouraged those high-ranking people to come there. It is well known that many were able to successfully leave Germany and take up residence in Argentina. The efforts of some Israeli organizations that were able to locate some of them and transport them back to Israel for trial is a testimony to that fact.

"What is not well known is how those same people funded their escape and managed to live in Argentina until they were able to find employment. There are suspicions of the transfer of gold either before or after their escape, but no proof. What is known is there were large caches of gold the Nazi's looted from the countries and people they overran in the early stages of the war.

"While much of that gold was gold bars plundered from the repositories in Austria, Czechoslovakia, and Poland, a significant amount was in the gold taken from individuals. To date, some of that gold has been recovered, but a sizeable portion has not and there are only rumors as to its location, until about a month ago.

"Ah, shall we say, a friend of a friend mentioned he had been offered a small bar of gold bullion bearing the imprint of the Heraeus Corporation of Germany. I do not know if you know of this German company, but Heraeus has been in the business of refining and producing precious metals since the late 1800's when they discovered a method of melting platinum.

"During World War Two, one small gold smelting facility of the Heraeus corporation located on the outskirts of Hanau, Germany was taken over by the Nazi party, managed by Nazi party members, and slave labor was used for the smelting process. They began melting the gold looted from the countries occupied by the German Army into bullion. The bullion was stamped with the hallmark of the Heraeus corporation in order to make it appear to be legitimate, though the Heraeus company per se had nothing to do with the operation.

"This knowledge has been common since the war ended, but what happened to the gold bullion produced by the Nazi controlled factory has been unknown until this single bar of bullion was offered to this friend of my friend. The offer was made in somewhat secretive circumstances and the design of the hallmark dated to the period of the Second World War. These two things intrigued this friend of my friend and also intrigued me.

"My interest was passing until I spoke to a man who wished to buy gold as an investment. He related a tale told by his grandfather of watching U-boats berthed at Helgoland, Germany when he was twelve years old. His grandfather had watched the U-boats before as they were fueled, armed, and then sent back out to sea. On a few occasions, this was not the case.

"According to his story, over the course of a week, several men in prison uniforms loaded six submarines with wooden cases that appeared much too heavy to be supplies and not large enough to hold munitions. He thought it unusual that they did not load any torpedoes as they always had before, but assumed the submarines were supply submarines used to re-supply U-boats at sea.

"Once the submarines were loaded, the men in prison uniforms were taken away and a few men in the uniform of the German navy went on board, but not in the same numbers this man had seen before. Instead of a full crew, a number of men in business dress also boarded the submarines. The submarines then left port. Three months later, those same six submarines were again docked in Helgoland and were being once again loaded as before. This cycle was repeated two more times before he witnessed the same submarines being loaded with torpedoes and manned by full crews of the German Navy.

"Another very interesting event happened in Argentina at the end of the war. Juan Peron was elected president and set about nationalizing industries and services while at the same time raising the wages of workers. Most importantly, he paid off the entire amount of externally held Argentine debt.

"Because Argentina does mine native gold and silver ore, I have people there to keep me informed about the latest developments. When I heard the stories about the bar of gold bullion and the German submarines and put that story into the context of what I know about the country, I asked my people there to do some research into the matter. The report I received a few weeks ago offered some tantalizing conclusions.

"At the end of the war, Argentina had external debt amounting to about two hundred million US Dollars. When Peron was elected President, he settled the national debt with payments in gold bullion, which is understandable because gold is the currency of the world. What is not understandable is where Peron was able to find enough gold to do that without bankrupting the country. The entire gold reserves of Argentina at the time were about two hundred and fifty million US dollars. He would have had to drain most of those reserves, but apparently did not. He continued to implement his policies by using that same gold reserve.

"My people were not able to identify how that situation changed so rapidly once Peron was in office nor the source of the gold with which he paid the Argentine debt. They were able to report that prior to settling that debt, the Argentine government ceased operations of a small, older smelter in the foothills of the Andes near Mendoza to bring that facility up to the level of current technology. They learned this from an old man who had been employed at the smelter in his youth. He said he was sent home and told to not report for work for two months.

"The man was interested in what changes were going to be made so over the course of seven weeks, he watched the activities at the smelter. He related to my people that the first week, he saw many trucks drive into the smelter and each truck had armed guards who were all tall men who looked European. He could not see what they did in the smelter, but he did notice the smokestack continued to emit smoke just as it had when the smelter was operating.

"A week before his two month furlough was to end, he witnessed those same trucks with the same armed guards drive out of the smelter and take the road that led to Buenos Aires. He also said when he returned to work, there was little difference from how the smelter had operated before."

I wasn't sure what all this had to do with me. When I asked, his face became grim.

"What I and my people believe is that a very large amount of gold was shipped to Argentina by the Nazis on submarines and used to pay the Argentine government for allowing them to stay there. That is the only explanation for how Peron was able to find the gold to pay off the national debt. It is also an explanation for the unusual loading of the submarine and for the bar of gold bullion offered to, as I said, a friend of a friend. The smelter was shut down in order to melt the Nazi gold and then recast it into bullion that bore the Argentine hallmark."

I was still confused.

"OK, that's all well and good, but again, what does that have to do with me?"

He placed his hands on the table between us and smiled.

"I want to pay you to find the rest of the Nazi gold."

Now, I was confused again.

"The rest? I thought you said they melted it all down and recast it."

He shook his head and chuckled.

"I said they melted and recast enough to pay off the Argentine debt, not that they melted and recast all the gold. The total amount of gold plundered by the Nazis is not accurately known, but it has been estimated at nearly two billion US dollars in the currency of the day. About a fourth of that can be reasonably accounted for as it was transferred to various banks in neutral countries, though some of those transfers are disputed. The rest has never been found.

"It is my estimate that the Nazis shipped at least four hundred tons of gold to Argentina on those submarines. In the currency of the day, that would be about half a billion US dollars. In 1945, the Argentine debt was about two hundred million US dollars. That leaves us with a difference of about three hundred million which would be a little over one and a half billion US dollars at today's market price."

I said I didn't think that was feasible because of the weight of gold. It wouldn't fit on a submarine. He smiled.

"Yes, gold is heavy but also very dense and does not require much space. The normal armament for a U-boat of the type loaded at Helgoland was fourteen torpedoes that weighed a little over a ton and a half each. Each submarine could have carried over twenty tons of gold if the torpedoes were not on board. The six submarines making four trips could have carried that much gold and many passengers. With a range of about nine thousand nautical miles, they could easily have made the trip from Germany to Argentina and back in about three months at sea.

It sounded like another Nazi conspiracy theory to me, but it was interesting so I decided to play along for a while.

"So, you want me to find this gold and then what? Hire a bunch of trucks to bring it back to the US?"

He smiled and shook his head.

"No. I only want you to confirm its location from the information my people have developed after almost a year of research. Near Mendoza in Mendoza province, my people located the ruins of what they described as a replica of The Berghof, Hitler's residence in Bavaria. The surrounding area is mostly unpopulated now, but was once the site of a now closed led mine. We believe the building was built to house German Army and SS officers who fled Germany and surmise the gold must have been secreted in the led mine. Once you have confirmed the gold is indeed at that location, others will orchestrate its removal and transport.

That little bell in your head that tells you something's not right started to ring.

"Mr. Richter, if your people know where it is, why don't those others you talked about confirm the gold is there and then remove it?"

He pursed his lips.

"My people in Argentina are carefully watched by the Argentine government to detect any financial dealings they might attempt. It is highly likely some in the Argentine government are also aware of their findings. Were my people to investigate that mine, well, the current government of Argentina would consider the gold to be the property of Argentina. It is not, but Argentina would be very upset were they to find it has been discovered and removed from the country."

The little bell in my head was now clanging.

"So what you're asking me to do is illegal? I don't much like the idea of spending time in an Argentine prison."

He shook his head.

"Your involvement will only be to locate and enter an abandoned and unguarded mine, confirm with photographs that the gold is there, and then bring those photographs and an accurate location back to me. It will be as if you were a tourist seeing the countryside and just happened upon the mine during your travels. There is nothing illegal about that.

"You will be well compensated for your efforts. I am prepared to offer you transportation to and from Argentina, a vehicle and other equipment for your use while there, and the sum of one hundred thousand dollars. I have arranged for twenty thousand dollars to be transferred to your bank account immediately upon your arrival in Argentina and commencement of your search. You will, of course, be provided with a small sum for travel expenses. The balance will be transferred upon your return, assuming you are successful. If not, the transfer will be for an additional

Reverend & Mrs. McGinnis: Part 4

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Thu, 25 Jun 2026 18:28:00 +0000

Reverend & Mrs. McGinnis: Part 4

Cathy explores Sam's fantasies, and some of her own as well.

Based on a post by Liminally Spaced. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Cathy had done her share of kinky things before meeting Sam, the highlight of which coming fairly early when she blew a guy at a frat party who asked to sniff her panties while she sucked him, and then keep them when they were finished. The novelty of his fetish, and the considerable size of his cock turned her on enough to oblige him, even if she did wonder exactly how she had ended up there as she swallowed down pump after pump of fresh cum.

He was a nice enough guy, and she felt bad afterward when he said she was the only girl he had met at school who wasn't weirded out by his request, so they became a semi-regular thing. She swallowed lots of his cum, and he left with lots of her panties. It was fun, but it only lasted a short while once she realized the pleasure was only going to be going one way.

But that's what college, and being young, was all about; having fun; and it turned her on intensely to see how aroused stories of her experiences made Sam. She used to be embarrassed of her pre-Sam sexual history, feeling bad that she had experience where Sam had been a virgin, but now that history had become an exciting part of their lovemaking.

Just the other night, while Sam gently fingered her, she breathlessly whispered into her ear he wanted her to tell him about a time she felt really naughty. She smiled, and told him of the time where, in the heat of passion, her then-boyfriend slipped his saliva-slick thumb into her ass while he fucked her from behind. It was the only time it ever happened, and the surprise of the sensation triggered a body-shaking orgasm like she had never experienced.

"It was so intense, so hot," she said, "that he completely forgot to pull out." She felt Sam's cock twitch against her leg. She smiled. She continued to tease him. "I knew I shouldn't have let him, but I didn't care; I wanted it all. It was the first time I ever let a man cum inside me without a condom."

Sam growled into her ear.

Shortly after telling the story, Cathy found herself on her hands and knees in her marital bed, bracing against the headboard, this time her husband Sam the one briskly pushing into her from behind. The story was fresh in both their minds, the sex was hot and passionate, and her body was abuzz with anticipation, wondering if he was going to reenact her story, wondering if he was going to slip his thumb into her ass.

She could feel his hand dancing around her cheek and lower back, this thumb edging ever so close to her puckered hole, but never making contact. Penetration or not, the tease sent her into overdrive and exploded her body in orgasm.

The story had the same effect on Sam, his cock seemingly harder than iron, vibrating with pleasure in each thrust into his wife's exceptionally wet cunt. The teasing was no coincidence. The story at the forefront of his mind as well, he danced his thumb around her rear entrance, wondering if he could, wondering if he should. Ultimately he ran out of time, as the heightened arousal of his wife's past (and potentially future) digital anal penetration became too much. He barely got his cock out in time before exploding, spraying his thick, lurching seed all over his wife's folded, gasping body.

Cathy sat at her desk, sopping wet, replaying all these things in her mind, but there was an underlying frustration there as well. It was Wednesday, that was true, but Sam had a church meeting to go to that night, which meant date night was going to be delayed, if not postponed entirely. She knew their life couldn't just be non-stop fucking at all times, but it still was annoying.

Cathy got up and carefully made her way toward the bathroom; she was still at work, after all, and needed to focus on the tasks at hand, not the sex she wished she was having, and after all those daydreams, she needed to tidy herself up.

"Hey Cath, what's good?" the voice came arcing over her from behind. She stopped, she sighed, she rolled her eyes. Roger.

"Hi Roger," she said with a sigh. Roger was her co-worker, and a constant annoyance for her.

"I noticed you haven't been working late much anymore; got a busy social life these days?"

"Yeah, you know how it goes," she said dismissively.

"Big plans tonight?"

"No, Sam has a meeting, nothing exciting."

"So you're saying you're free tonight?" He said with a big, shit-eating grin. She knew Roger wanted her, and Roger knew she was married, but he was nothing if not persistent. He had never truly crossed a line with her, but he liked to flirt, and always managed to get himself on projects with her, always managed to work the same late nights she had.

Cathy would never admit it to anyone, let alone Roger himself, but at the lowest, darkest point of her sex-less era of marriage, she had given passing thought to giving in and going home with Roger. It was a fleeting thought born from despair, and it was gone from her mind almost as soon as it entered.

An exasperated eye roll and a "goodbye, Roger," later, Cathy brushed by him and into the ladies' room. Addressing the wetness in her panties, she was doing her best to get her thoughts back on work and off her husband's cock, but then a finger brushed her clit, and sent a bolt of electricity through her body.

She was still horny. She was still wet.

She thought about her husband, thought about his stories, thought about him shooting his cum all over her, and then thought about the emptiness of the bathroom, and how he was going to be home late tonight.

No one was in there, no one needed to know.

Peeking over the top of the stall to make sure she was alone, Cathy leaned against the door, braced herself on the small cube, and slipped her fingers into her panties.

She gasped when she felt how wet she was. Quickly she found her clit, closed her eyes, and began slickly stroking herself. Immediately, visions of her husband, hard and ready, appeared in her mind. He was lying on their bed, she was lying in between his legs, and then all at once his thick, proud cock was in her mouth. Cathy sucked and slobbered on her husband's cock like a common whore. She'd never sucked his cock like this in real life; she never had the nerve to let herself go quite this much. But this wasn't real life. This was a fantasy after all, and she was going to indulge herself.

Thick saliva ran down lewdly over his shaft and her hands, making him glisten as she slurped at his erection. His hand was in her hair, gripping it tightly, directing her. Using her. Showing her how he wanted it. He'd thrust at her, and she'd feel his tip tapping the back of her throat. He'd push, she'd feel him in her throat, feel his balls pressing against her chin. She was such a whore. She was his whore.

Cathy's fingers raced over her clit, her body on fire. It wouldn't take long now, the extra dirty fantasy sending her into overdrive. But then something happened. Something wholly unexpected.

Suddenly, in her fantasy, there was another man there.

Her dirty mind was racing a mile a minute, generating erotic situations for no reason other than to get her to cum as quickly as possible. She was barely in control, barely conscious of the fact that there was now another man present in bed with her and her husband. Another man sidling up behind her bet over body while she sucked Sam's cock. Another man gripping her flared out ass. Another man pushing into her. Another man fucking her.

Cathy's breath started to get short and ragged as she tumbled down this fantasy path. Her cunt was throbbing. Fingers sped over her clit. She reached up and pinched a nipple through her clothes while she pictured this man fucking her from behind while she sucked Sam's cock like a wanton slut.

The thought of taking two cocks at the same time was turning her on so much; she had never even considered it before, even in her wilder, younger days, but here she was, stroking her clit, body buzzing, careening toward orgasm on the wings of the fantasy of getting spit roasted. Oh, to feel two thick, hard cocks entering her body from either end, pushing and pulling at her in unison. And then, to feel Sam's cock pulse and spasm, filling her mouth with cum while another man fucked her,

Her Fantasy raced on. Cathy swallowed and sucked all the erupting jizz her husband was giving her. Fingers gripped her ass as this mysterious second man fucked her harder, more erratic; he was going cum too.

Cathy's body seized and shook. She bit her finger. Right there in the bathroom at work, Cathy started to cum.

There she was, in her mind, swallowing her husband's spurting seed, while cumming on the cock of another man who was bursting inside her at the same time.

Cathy's body convulsed, pleasure ripping through her at light speed while she did her best to keep quiet. Her unexpected fantasy had fully taken over her body. Her fantasy of another man fucking her while she sucked her husband. Only then, in the midst of her orgasm, did Cathy realize who it was fucking her in her fantasy: it was Roger.

Her eyes burst open. Fantasy shattered, Cathy rode out the rest of her intense orgasm in the real world, satisfied, albeit very confused.

She stood there in her own afterglow trying to figure out where this threesome fantasy had come from, and more importantly why it involved Roger of all people.

"Gross" she mumbled as she tried to shake the thought. Why him? Why not anyone but him? She was not attracted to him at all. And yet there he had been, fucking her, sending her into orgasmic bliss. If she had wanted to be dirty in her fantasy, mission fucking accomplished.

The post-cum clarity and the amount she had disturbed herself was enough to get her mind off sex and back on her work for the rest of the day. Still, every time she saw Roger across the office she felt a shiver up her spine, and a faint tingle between her legs.

But still, her fantasy life was generally left unexplored, and as she drove home, she wondered if that needed to change. She wondered about Sam's fantasies. What did he have hidden deep down inside?

Unfortunately, she would need to wait till another night to find out.

Sam got home late from the church meeting, and was clearly tired and hungry. Cathy sat with him on the couch as he ate and they shared a drink, spending their date night connecting verbally, instead of physically.

That was nice too, she thought, and equally as important. She was that much more thankful she decided to take care of herself at work, even if the images that played in her mind had been questionable and unexpected.

Cathy asked about the meeting, how it went, who was there. Sam told her the usual suspects were all rounded up; the church board of elders, the music director, and Ginny. In fact, as he told his wife about the events of the meeting, there was one name that kept coming up, with stories attached to it he was happy to tell: Ginny.

Cathy knew it wasn't that out of the ordinary, she was new, after all, and still getting the hang of everything, but still, it started to seem like her husband Sam might have a bit of a crush. She smirked slightly at the thought, filed it away, and went back to the conversation.

Noting the time, the two realized they'd blown right through date night, but agreed they had enjoyed the time talking together. Then, finishing his drink, Sam made a suggestion.

"You know, Christine IS staying over at her friend's house this Friday, he said with a sly smirk.

"Oh yeah?" she said, shifting excitedly in her seat, returning his smirk, "what'd you have in mind?"

"Rain check?"

"I think that can be arranged." They leaned in and kissed.

"And the house will be empty, so you can be as loud as you want." his sly smirk returned. She matched it once more. They kissed once more. She couldn't wait for Friday.

Cathy barely made it through Thursday, and Friday seemed to go by slower molasses as she patiently waited out the clock, desperate to get their date night started.

But mother nature had different plans.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, you know how I feel about it," Cathy said, legitimately bummed out.

"But it doesn't matter to me, I'm fine with it!" Sam said in response, trying his best to be accommodating. He had just gotten out of the shower and stood nude and drying before his wife, who wore only a big t-shirt and some sleeping shorts.

"I know you are, but I'm not. It's just not something I prefer."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," Sam said, "it's your body, I respect that."

"Thanks, sweetie," she said, kissing him on the cheek. Cathy had spent the whole week practically dripping in anticipation for the next time she and Sam were going to make love, so much so that she almost didn't notice earlier that day when she got her period.

She silently cursed from the bathroom stall at the timing; she didn't like to have sex on her period, at least not in the early days. She never had. She had done it once, and it was a complete disaster, so she said never again.

"But that doesn't mean we can't still enjoy ourselves," she said, biting her lip playfully, and drawing a finger down his naked chest.

"Oh yeah?" he smiled. His cock twitched.

"Yeah. Go lay down, I'll be right back." She turned him around, playfully swatted his cute ass, and watched him excitedly pad off toward the bed.

Sam got comfortable, and Cathy slipped out of the room and headed toward the kitchen; she had an idea, another thing she hadn't done since before she met Sam.

Sex may have always been off the table, but she had never shied away from wanting to please her man, but with Sam she couldn't remember a time they ever fooled around during her period. It just became another reason for them not to have sex, just another excuse. Opening the kitchen cabinet she thought back to the fun she had had with other men, and being surprised how many different parts of the body could make someone cum if lubricated well enough. She shamed herself at the thought. Not for reminiscing about sex with other men, but for the fact that she and Sam had spent so many years without exploring yet another facet of each other's pleasure.

That changed tonight.

Padding back into the bedroom, Sam couldn't help but notice the Cheshire smile on his wife's face.

"What've you got there?" he inquired, cocking his head toward her hands that were behind her back.

Cathy just smiled and slid into bed next to her nude husband. She couldn't help but notice his cock had a pleasant anticipatory chub to it already.

"Getting started without me?" she said with a big grin, dancing a finger around the top of Sam's thigh.

"A man can't help where his mind goes when he's waiting for a beautiful woman," Sam said, returning her smile.

"Well why don't you tell me about it?" She said, tickling his full balls with the tip of her finger, "I want to learn where your mind goes." She cupped his balls completely, squeezing gently. Sam moaned.

Cathy sat up, and presented the hidden item she brought back from the kitchen: a full jar of coconut oil.

Sam's cock twitched as he watched his wife unscrew the lid and reach in to retrieve a chunk of the slippery white solid. He knew she liked to cook with it, but he never for a second considered its other uses.

"You've done this before, haven't you," he said without a hint of jealousy.

"Once or twice," she said with a sly grin. She rolled it around in her hand, and Sam watched it dissolve into a slick clear liquid. "Now just relax," she said, cuddling close to him, close enough that he could feel her breath on his neck, "and talk to me."

"About what?" Sam whispered, feeling Cathy drip the warm liquid onto his thickening member.

"About your dreams," she said, trickling the last of the lubricant over his tip, "about your fantasies."

"What kind of fantasies?" He said, fully knowing the answer.

"I think you know what kind," she smiled, drawing a slippery finger over his juicy tip.

"I, I don't know if I have any," he melted, her fingers starting to dance across his sensitive skin.

"You don't have any fantasies?" she cooed. She couldn't tell if he was being serious or playing with her.

"I don't really know," he said, pausing to enjoy his wife's touch before dropping his follow up, "do you?"

Cathy smiled. Of course. She was learning just how much of a voyeur her husband was, of course that's where he'd go. It was a fair question, and it was only fair she be as open with him as she was asking

"Sure," she said with a syrupy lilt, "do you wanna hear one?"

He sighed loudly and nodded. His cock flexed hard. She smiled again.

"I imagine I'm waiting in a hotel room," she began, teasing his cock with the tips of her fingers, "I'm sitting on the bed, waiting for a man. I'm wearing the dress he wants me to wear, the lingerie he wants me to wear. I'm waiting for my man to come in and tell me what to do. I'm waiting for him, to use me."

She felt a flutter in her stomach as she shared something with Sam she had never shared with anyone.

"Use you how?" Sam said through a strained breath. His cock was pointing straight up now, her slickened fingers teasing him deliciously. He had never thought of his wife in such a lewd, erotic way, but it was certainly having an effect. He needed to know more.

"However he wants," she said languidly, her mind starting to drift into her fantasy, "I want to be his slut, I want to be his whore."

"Oh my God, Sam hissed through gritted teeth. Cathy smiled.

"I want him to take his pleasure from me however he wants, wherever he wants, and I want him to know I'm happy to accommodate, and to receive."

Sam groaned again. Cathy had yet to fully envelope his straining cock with her hand. She wanted to tease him, to prime him for the main event, and his labored breathing and beet-red tip told her it was working.

Sam wasn't the only one enjoying the story though; Cathy's cunt had become delightfully moist as she confessed her secret desires to her husband. But what got her even wetter was knowing what she didn't tell Sam: she mentioned not a single thing about the other man in her fantasy; the one fucking her sopping cunt from behind while Sam used her mouth. She didn't tell him about Roger.

"What about you, sweetie?" She said, desperate to change the subject away from Roger's mental intrusion, "what do you secretly want?&q

Reverend & Mrs. McGinnis: Part 3

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Wed, 24 Jun 2026 18:27:00 +0000

Reverend & Mrs. McGinnis: Part 3

Christianity and sex; and kinky sex.

Based on a post by Liminally Spaced. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Sam popped up off the bed and went to get a warm towel to clean up his cum-splattered bride. Cathy lay there, body still buzzing, sizzling, and took in the mess her husband made on her body. This was so much fun. She hadn't thought about that night with Tom in years, and it had turned her on like nothing she had experienced. It wasn't the thought of Tom that turned her on though, it was the fact that her reliving her erotic memories had turned Sam on so much. They had been having sex, making love, for so many years, but Sam was finally learning how to fuck her. She wanted to learn too.

"So you really like hearing stories about what I did with other men?"

Cathy was tucked tightly into Sam's side, her hand idly playing with his chest hair again. They were lounging, basking in their post-coital bliss, comfortable and relaxed.

"You know, I didn't realize I would until you told one, but, yeah, I really like it. I've, always kinda had a kink for it."

"Oh really?" Cathy's ears perked up at the use of the word kink. Sandy was right. Everyone has desires, everyone has a past, it's just a matter of coaxing it out of them. "Tell me more."

"Well," he started, pausing to acknowledge he was about to tell his wife something he never shared with anyone. "It started in high school. I knew a lot of girls, but I was the non-threatening guy friend, so, they started to tell me things."

"What kind of things?" Cathy asked, her interest piqued.

"Hook ups, first times, dirty things they did; everyone is experimenting at that age, and wants to talk about it, but it can be embarrassing, so, I was someone they could talk to with no judgment."

"Did you get details?"

"Oh yeah."

"What's the dirtiest thing they told you?"

"Hmm" Sam thought back through multiple years of stories and confessions. He felt his cock twitch as long dormant memories came flooding back. "Well, I remember Sherry Macklewait."

"She was in your class?"

"Yeah, we had algebra together and were friendly."

"What'd she tell you?"

"Well she was rather, well endowed."

"You mean she had big tits?"

"Yes, she had big tits," Sam chuckled at his own lewdness, "huge. She got teased for them when she was younger, but as we got older the teasing continued but was clearly turning into jealousy and lust, you know?"

"Yeah, I do." Cathy said, reminiscing herself, "I knew a girl in a similar situation. All the girls who were teasing her were jealous, and all the guys teasing her just wanted to fuck her."

"Exactly. She got self-conscious about it, so she was pretty conservative with them, even with the guys she would date. She didn't want to give anyone any ammo."

"A girl who won't show her big tits to anyone? This isn't very dirty, Sam," Cathy playfully chided.

"I know, I know, I'm getting to it," he chuckled. "So she's telling me about how pervy the guys at our school are, and I'm asking her questions, and then she lets slip that 'the only guy who's ever seen them is Tyler.' I don't recognize the name. I start wracking my brain trying to think of a Tyler, but I don't think our school has one. So I keep digging"

"Older guy?" Cathy says, the thought sending a tingle to her loins.

"Well, Sherry had a best friend named Skylar, who had an older brother named Tyler who went to a nearby university."

"Skyler and Tyler? Gross."

"Yeah, I know. They had known each other for a long time, and Sherry always had a crush on Tyler. And I mean, despite all the teasing about her breasts, she was still a horny 18 year old girl; she knew she was stacked and wanted to show someone, just not the guys at her school."

"I see where this is going,

"So one night at a sleepover, she and Tyler found themselves alone talking after everyone else went to bed and, she opened her shirt and took them out for him."

"She just whipped them out?"

"Yeah, she said he never asked, never teased her, that's why she wanted it to be him."

"That's very cute, but it's hardly dirty."

"Well after she took them out, there was kind of this stunned silence, and then Tyler opened his pants and pulled out his, well, considerably large dick."

"How big?" Cathy exclaimed, not even trying to hide her excitement now.

"I don't know, perv," Sam said, laughing, "she just said it was huge."

"And so they,

"No, actually. He started to stroke himself, and she sat there, mesmerized. She was so turned on, she didn't know what to do, so she was kind of frozen, just watching him pump his shaft while he looked at her breasts."

"She just watched?"

"Yeah, until he started to grunt and he stepped toward her. She said she didn't know why she did it, but she put one in each hand and lifted them up toward him, like presenting them for him, and then he,

"He came on her tits?" Cathy was really into it now.

"Exploded, she said. Thick and sticky, all over her chest. And they never even touched each other."

"That's pretty hot, but in the grand scheme of dirty things,

"Well the dirty part is what happened after. They heard someone coming and got spooked, so he tucked himself away, and she closed up her shirt, right on top of all that cum. She went back to the sleepover and spent the rest of the night lying next Skylar with a chest-full of her brother's jizz."

"Was she grossed out?"

"Actually no, that's the thing. She was insanely turned on. She couldn't stop thinking about it, so it turned into a thing. Anytime she was sleeping over Skylar's, or over there for any reason, if Tyler was home the two of them would sneak off, never even touch each other, he'd jerk himself all over her tits, and then she'd spend the rest of the night with his cum secretly all over her chest."

"Oh, damn, Cathy mused, taken by the tale. "Did they ever do anything more?"

"Nope, she didn't even touch her first penis till she was a sophomore in college, but anytime those two were together, she'd leave with a sticky chest."

"Wait, when did she tell you all this?" Cathy said, doing the math.

"College. We kept in touch after high school, and got pretty comfortable telling each other stuff. She even, never mind" He stopped with a giggle

"What, what! You gotta tell me!"

"Well years later, when Skylar got married, Sherry was her maid of honor. It had been years since she and Tyler had seen each other but,

" But?" Cathy was hanging on every word

"but before the ceremony the two of them apparently snuck off and re-lived their youth a bit."

"At his sister's wedding?"

"Yeah; and according to her she spent the entire ceremony, and gave a toast in front of everyone, with Tyler's cum all over her chest beneath her dress.

"Oh wow." Cathy paused to take it all in. "And they didn't even fuck at the wedding?"

"Nope, they were both there with other people," Sam laughed.

"Oh my God!"

"Amazing, right?"

"Totally." Cathy paused. She looked down at Sam's cock. It was spent, but there was a little extra thickness to it; recounting the story definitely was a turn on for him, as much as it was for her to listen. She wondered if Sam was jealous, if he wished it was him cumming on Sherry's tits. "So these girls told you some pretty wild stories, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Sam smirked at the memories.

"What did you tell them in return?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're telling me these girls just spilled their sexual guts to you and you never told them anything in return?"

"Honestly, I don't think they ever asked! Besides, I didn't have anything to tell them; you know you were my first."

"I know," she said, winding up to dig a bit deeper, Sandy's words echoing in her head, "but there must have been something you could have told them."

"I went to a Christian college!"

"Oh come on, Sam, I went to Catholic high school, and I have plenty of things I could tell you." She stopped short, wondering if that was too much, but was reassured when she saw his cock flex out of the corner of her eye.

"Well, I mean,

"Yes?" Cathy held her breath; there might have been a story after all!

"There was, one thing,

Cathy's cunt began to tingle.

"So you're not entirely wrong," he began, "my school wasn't just a bunch of chaste virgins with their noses in bibles."

"Of course," she said with a wicked smile.

"Freshman year I had this friend who lived across the hall from me named Jess."

"Oh, what'd she look like?"

"She was cute; Auburn hair, short and curvy, big personality."

"And you were into her?"

"Actually no, not at all. At least I didn't think I was. We bonded over being two strangers in a strange land, sort of, and became fast friends. We hung out all the time, got really close really fast." He shifted a bit as he began the next part of the story. Cathy noticed. "One night I was alone in my room, and she came by unannounced, and had this sort of glow about her. She said she needed to tell someone about what she just experienced, and that I was the only cool person in the whole school. I said of course she could tell me anything, and then with a big smile she said 'Sam, I just got back from sucking the biggest cock I've ever sucked!'"

"Oh my!"

"Yeah, it was shocking to say the least, but, I mean you know now how much of a perv I am, so of course I wanted to know more."

"Of course."

"And so she told me everything; how big it was, what it tasted like, how hard it was to get in her mouth, how excited she was when she finally got him off, what his cum tasted like,

"What it tasted like?"

"Yeah, that was the big thing I learned that night: This was not the first, nor would it be the last dick she sucked at our school, and that she loved the taste of cum."

"She loved the taste?" Cathy said, scrunching her face up in disbelief.

"Well, that's not really the right way to say it; she loved tasting cum. She was still a virgin and planned to remain so, but she absolutely loved giving blowjobs, and sort of got off on seeing how different each guy's cum tasted."

"Ooh, interesting."

"Yeah, she loved sucking, and she loved swallowing."

"And so she was sucking a lot of dicks around campus?"

"As I would come to find out, yeah," he sighed, "once the truth dam broke she told me all about what she had been up to, and would fill me in on all the new ones after they happened."

"And you were happy to listen weren't you, you perv?" Cathy said in jest.

"I hate to admit it but yeah, I was."

"This is all pretty similar to the other story you told me though, if I'm being fair."

"Well, he continued, but paused a long moment in reflection, "toward the end of the semester, she told me she wouldn't be coming back. That she was transferring."

"Oh no!"

"It made sense, she never really liked it there."

"Not even with all the fun she was having?"

"Well that was actually part of it. Sexual contact was technically an expellable offense, so all these guys she was with, after it was over, they acted like they never met her. At first she thought it was fun, kinda taboo or whatever, but she said eventually it just was kinda depressing. She started to feel used."

"Yeah, I don't blame her." Cathy said sympathetically, thinking back to how her own relationship with the married Tom had played out.

"And so it was the end of the semester, and she was leaving forever, so we went out and had a nice dinner and just had a great time together. We parted close friends, shed a couple tears, promised to stay in contact and all that, but you know how that goes. "

Cathy hung on the long silence that followed.

"And?"

"And, he took a deep breath, "I went back to my room and got ready for bed. But I couldn't sleep. It was late, and it was quiet, and then I heard a knock on my door."

Cathy's legs rubbed together unconsciously as she felt herself getting wetter.

"I opened it, and there I was in just my boxers staring at Jess, in nothing but a big Mickey Mouse sweatshirt. I let her in, and went back to sit on my bed, asking her what was up. The lights were still off. She walked toward me and had this certain look in her eye that I had never seen before. It was electric. It was, it had quite an effect."

"You got hard, didn't you?"

"I couldn't help it. She looked down at me, right in the eye, and said, 'I need to know.'"

"Oh my," Cathy said breathlessly.

"I don't know why I didn't stop her right away, but I just sat there in silence. She took a pillow off my bed, put it on the floor between my legs, and lowered down to her knees. I was barely registering what was happening, but then she opened my shorts, pulled out my dick, and then all at once it was in her mouth."

Cathy had no words as she listened to him recount the experience.

"Her mouth felt so good, Cath; she was so gentle, so sweet, she knew I had never done anything like that before. She just worked me tenderly with her lips and mouth, and then her hands, giving little coos and moans every now and then. It was the most unbelievable thing I'd ever experienced. But then, after what seemed like an eternity but was probably only a minute or so, something came over me and I asked her to stop."

"What? Why?" Cathy exclaimed in horny disbelief.

"It just, I don't know if I was nervous, guilty, embarrassed, naive, I don't know, but it didn't feel right. I told her as much and she nodded. She leaned up, kissed me on the mouth, said goodbye, and that was the last time I ever saw her."

"Wow," Cathy said, running over the details in her own mind. "After she left did you; " She didn't even get the rest of the question out before Sam cut her off

"Honey, I did, and I came so hard I almost passed out." They laughed together for a moment and then settled into a thick silence.

"Do you regret it?" Cathy said finally, the question looming large in her mind.

"No," he said, "we had a special friendship, and what happened, happened. It was strange, but I never felt bad about it."

"No," she said with a smoky rasp, "I mean, do you regret stopping her?"

There was a long silence this time. Cathy watched Sam's cock give a thick twitch as he thought about her question, until finally he spoke.

"Yeah," he said softly, "I think that I do."

It was the last thing said on the subject. The couple cuddled closer together and began drifting off to sleep, each of them having thoughts and images of Sam's story rushing around in their heads.

Cathy felt closer than ever to her husband of 15 years, a warmth growing inside her at how open he was with her about his loves and his losses. She felt bad that his upbringing denied him sharing such a sweet moment with a friend. As she drifted off to sleep, she felt bad for Jess that she didn't get to taste his cum. Cathy knew the taste. She didn't love the taste, but she missed the taste.

Two days later, it was Friday night. Sam tumbled home from a long day and a long meeting at the church. It was the new youth pastor Ginny's first weekly meeting, so there were some formalities to go over which added time, not to mention the miscommunication and difficulty setting up the annual car wash.

He was tired, he was wiped, and he wanted a shower. He barely even noticed that no one had greeted him when he came home. His daughter Christine was out with friends, it was Friday night after all so that made sense, but as he soaped himself up he thought it weird that Cathy was nowhere to be found.

His mind idly wandered to the meeting, first the topics covered, then to Ginny. She looked great that night, khaki shorts accenting her amber legs, her long, kinky hair flung to one side with just the right amount of wildness to catch his attention. He began to wonder what she might look like naked, what she might taste like. When he felt the blood start to thicken his cock however, he quickly shook off the thoughts as guilt crept in. They were wrong.

He ended his shower, toweled off in the bedroom and slipped on his favorite pair of sleeping boxer shorts. Tossing the towel in the hamper, sitting on the bed his attention jumped suddenly as the lights in the bedroom clicked off.

Confused, he looked toward the bedroom door, and was met with an almost ghostly vision: framed by the doorway and the backlight of the hall was a long-legged, breathtaking, womanly figure clad in nothing but a big, oversized sweatshirt.

Sam froze, transfixed on her silhouette. He knew who it was, he knew it was Cathy, but a rush of endorphins passing through him mentally transported back to that night in college. The night Jess left.

Cathy sauntered over towards her shocked husband with a sultry gait, much like she imagined Jess had that night. She stopped just between his legs and looked down at him. Freshly showered, bewildered, hard cock pressing against the fabric of his boxers, he was so cute.

Slowly she sank to her knees.

Her hands drifted over his thighs toward the tent in hi

Reverend & Mrs. McGinnis: Part 2

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Tue, 23 Jun 2026 18:26:00 +0000

Reverend & Mrs. McGinnis: Part 2

Christine's parents learn to reconnect and explore.

Based on a post by Liminally Spaced. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Cathy could barely take the sensations coursing through her body. While she hadn't felt Sam's tongue on her cunt in over 15 years, she hadn't done this act with anyone in close to 20. Memories immediately rushed her mind, swirling in the endorphins, images and sensations of nights with her previous boyfriend. Orgasms. Pleasure. Fucking. Grinding.

Lost in the feeling, she fell back into sense memory. Her hand dropped down into Sam's hair and gripped it hard.

Sam groaned into her wet snatch. She felt it. His cock lurched.

Cathy held his head still. Bracing herself with one hand on the headboard, her thighs and hips began to flex.

Sam got the message. He held his tongue in position as his wife began to grind her throbbing cunt against it, fucking his face.

"Oh my God" she moaned out long and loud as she directed her pleasure points onto his wet, pulsating tongue.

It was like a bolt of lightning coiling up inside her body. She felt his hand grip her ass instinctively, just like she liked, just like the others had, and suddenly she began to shake and shudder, slipping over the edge into heat. Into pleasure. Into an explosive, body-wracking orgasm.

Sam held her tight as she wriggled and jerked, grinding into his tongue. He felt wetness pour from her being; his wife, cumming into his mouth. Cumming on his face.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!" she chanted. She rarely used curse words like that in front of him, and he found it highly erotic. His mind raced: when did she learn she liked this? Who was the first one to do it to her? How many men had she done it with?

He had never been so hard in his entire life.

Slowly the world came back into view, and Cathy collapsed off her husband onto the bed next to him, both their breaths coming hard and ragged.

"Oh my Lord," he said between breaths, "that was so sexy."

Cathy felt a warm glow pass through her; she had been worried for nothing. She looked down at her husband's thick, straining cock, flush with desire, almost painful looking. He wasn't lying. She reached for it, touching it. Holding it. She had just had the best orgasm of her life, but she was still wet. Still horny. She turned her face toward his, and made a single, syrupy request, the same she made on their honeymoon:

"Fuck me, Sam."

He smiled and turned quickly to the bedside table, retrieving a condom. He was on her in an instant, kissing, groping, squeezing. He positioned himself between her legs, but her sweet center wouldn't come to him easily. He struggled, first with the condom wrapper, then with the condom itself, its slippery latex never quite gaining purchase around the head of his desperate cock.

"God, I really do hate these things," he said through clenched teeth.

Cathy lay there, desperate to feel her husband push himself inside her, equally frustrated with the fact that they were still using condoms after almost 20 years of marriage. Then a thought came to her. They had already cracked open the door of her past, what could it hurt to crack it open a bit more, especially if she knew it would bring them both a wealth of new sensation and pleasure?

"Sam, honey, I, I have an idea."

He looked down at her, beautiful and wanton below him, and waited with bated breath to hear it.

"What if you didn't use a condom, and pulled out just before you were going to cum?"

Sam felt a hard throb between his legs.

"But aren't you worried about; I mean what if you; "

"It, she paused, once again hesitant to broach this area of her own experiences, but something about the way he looked at her told her to continue on. "It's never been a problem for me, in the past."

"You've, done that before?" Sam said almost breathlessly. He didn't even realize his hand started slowly pumping his cock.

"Yes."

"You've had a man inside you without a condom, and he pulled out before he finished?"

"Yes. My ex and I, he didn't like condoms either. it was our solution to the birth control problem."

"Then where did he finish?" She watched his hand stroke his cock long and hard. She felt her cunt throb.

"On me."

Sam gulped hard and felt himself start to sweat.

"Where?"

His wife looked him dead in the eye.

"Wherever he wanted."

That was all Sam could take. He hiked her legs up around his waist, and with gasping desperate breaths roaring out of them each like a blast furnace, he lined himself up at her wet, swollen entrance, and pushed. Moans erupted from the lovers as she took him full to the hilt.

Electricity burst through the closed circuit of their bodies as they felt each other unencumbered for the first time in over 15 years. Sam began to thrust himself into his wife, long, hard, and joyously. He gave her everything he had, and her tight, sopping-wet cunt gripped him deliciously and demanded more.

He and his wife were truly one once again, but as her slick, velvety walls stoked the fire building in his loins, all he could think about was the image of some other man pushing into his wife, fucking her, pleasing her the way he was right then and there. Her cunt squeezing her lover's cock the way she was squeezing his. Gripping her lover's waist with her legs and heels, egging him on, the same way she was gripping his. Taking everything her lover had, that way she was taking it from him, only for her lover to slip out of her at the height of his frenzied pleasure so her body could take two balls-full of hot cum the way she was about to take his.

Sam couldn't help but wonder where her lover, lovers, had cum. He pictured his wife, another man's seed splashing across her stomach, scattered lewdly across her back and ass, dripping from her perfect breasts, maybe even her beautiful face.

Had they cum on her face? Had these men fucked Sam's wife to the point of eruption, then pulled out and lurched their thick seed onto her face?

Did she like it?

Did she ask for it?

Cathy's body was a hot cluster of firing nerve endings. Sam was fucking her with a passion she couldn't ever remember experiencing from him, and she was unable to stifle her pleasure-filled yelps, moans, and cries as he drove his thick cock into her over and over.

It felt bigger. Thicker. She could feel her body stretch to accommodate it, rushing fresh rivers of her juices down to encourage him, to welcome his cock.

A slight shift in position suddenly adjusted his angle of approach, and Cathy was overcome by intense, rushing pleasure as the head of his cock began to hit her in the exact right spot. She was going to cum again.

"Oh yes, oh fuck, oh yes, baby, yes, baby; fuck me, fuck me!" She began to cry out almost involuntarily. Her body was strapped to a rocket that left the atmosphere in seconds, hung there in the transitional bliss of zero gravity for just a single sweet moment, and then exploded in a thick, strong orgasm.

Cathy's body contracted and jerked beneath her husband's, but he never let go, never stopped thrusting as she soared through her second orgasm. It was the most purely erotic thing he had ever experienced, and it was the final straw for his own gallant constitution.

Sam reared up off of her, his cock slipping out of her warm, tight center. Cathy gasped, looking at her husband towering over her like a Greek statue, flushed and in heat, his hard, proud cock reaching to the sky, slick with her juices. His hand grasped it, his eyes closed. She whispered a sultry "yes" and gasped as the first viscous rocket of his cum launched out of the tip and soared up her body. She felt the hot juice sear her collar bone, and it was only a fraction of a second before she felt the second spurt splash against her chin, stronger than the first.

Her breath came hard and fast as she took in the sight of her strong, statuesque husband ejaculating all across her heaving body. Her cunt throbbed. This was nothing like the times her previous boyfriend had done it. That, though still sexy, was more about efficiency. This, well this was the hottest thing she had ever experienced.

Sam looked down at the slithering body of his wife as he emptied his tight balls all over his bride. She looked like a dirty, sexy angel. An angel of love. An angel of sex. Thick white splatters of semen painted her from pubic bone to neck; this had to have been the biggest load he had ever shot.

He wondered if it was the biggest load she'd ever received.

The lovers looked at each other in silence for a moment, each breathing heavy, each taking in the experience they just had.

"Was that ok?" Sam finally said. Cathy smiled. He was so adorable; he just fucked the shit out of her and he was still concerned with her own wellbeing. She loved him so much. He was amazing.

"Yes, Sam," she said through a chuckle, "it was fucking amazing." Then the thought crossed her mind that she should check in with him as well. This was a new experience for both of them, but even more so for him, and if this new era of communication was going to continue, she needed to make sure it did. "Was it ok for you?"

"You nailed it, honey: it was fucking amazing."

They both burst out laughing at Sam's rare display of profanity.

Sam slipped away for a moment and came back with a warm, wet towel. It felt good on her body as he gently wiped his cum from her skin. Cathy closed her eyes and realized she was having a first of her own. In all the times she had been with other men before Sam, in all the nights that ended with cum splashed on her naked body, she couldn't remember a single time where the man she was with helped with the clean-up, and definitely not as lovingly as Sam did.

She had never in their relationship questioned her love and commitment to this man, and as they lie there in each other s arms, drifting off to sleep, she knew there was nothing but excitement and pleasure ahead of them on this new erotic adventure.

She had told him what she wanted, she couldn't wait to find out what he wanted. And she had a pretty good idea of where to start.

"Oh, fuck, oh, Fuck, yes; fuck me, fuck me!"

Pastor Sam McGinnis had two hands full of his wife Cathy's pert ass, using it for leverage as he drove his rock hard cock into her tight, welcoming cunt from behind. For only the second time in over 15 years he was inside his wife bareback, and he didn't know how long he could last.

He had missed the feeling of her silky juices sliding over his skin, her slick, tight walls gripping and spreading over the sensitive flesh of his cock, electrifying his body. Not since shortly after their wedding had he felt this sensation, when he got to empty his balls, unencumbered, into his lovely new bride.

Cathy was allergic to birth control, so condoms were their only option, an option neither of them really liked, an option that was definitely a contributing factor to their decline in intimacy over the years.

A decline that had continued until last night, when Cathy suggested an alternative, one that made Sam's cock harder than it had been in years. His beautiful wife wanted him to fuck her bareback, and then pull out of her at the last moment and shoot his orgasm on her body.

It wasn't the activity itself that got Sam so excited, however, it was the fact that it was an activity she had done with at least one other man before she met Sam. He had been a virgin when they got together, but she had not been, and they never really talked about her sexual past. He had no idea how many men she had been with, or what they had done, or even really what she liked done to her.

Until last night.

Her suggestion; her request; had cracked open a door that Sam desperately wanted to open further. He had had a bit of a kink for hearing stories and experiences, ever since high school when his platonic female friends would spill all the lurid details of their horny experimentations to their non-threatening male friend.

Now, he couldn't stop thinking about other men spraying his wife's hot, young body with thick semen, all the places she may have taken it, wanted it. He needed to know more. He needed to know what else she had experienced. What else she wanted.

"Oh fuck, baby, that's it; I'm gonna cum, Sam; I'm gonna cum!"

Cathy couldn't believe how turned on she was. There was a lot of doubt in her mind last night about whether opening up her sexual past to her husband was a good idea. She had never wanted to rub it in, never wanted him to feel bad about being a virgin when they met. But now, as she lay perched on her hands and knees on their mattress, bracing herself with one hand against the headboard, the thrusting of her husband's cock driving her full speed toward another orgasm, she wondered why she ever waited so long.

She realized the peek into her past had revved Sam up greatly, and it was in that moment that she realized she had almost no idea what turned him on; really turned him on. His fantasies, his kinks, his fetishes, this new adventure they were on was meant to be all about communication, and communication was a two way street. Just the thought of learning new things about her husband, of helping him learn new things about himself, made her cunt gush. But what surprised her the most, what she hadn't expected, was how much re-living experiences from her own past turned her on.

Cathy had started having her partners pull out and cum on her body purely as a solution to the birth control problem, but what Sam didn't know, and what she wasn't sure she was ready to share just yet, was that it wasn't just a necessity, it was something she liked. Feeling the searing heat of their sticky loads slap her skin, watching their bodies contort in ecstasy, gave her an intense erotic boost. She thought back to Sam's spurting cock the night before. Then further back to Tom. Then further still to Chris. To Lenny.

Her body shuddered, her slick walls gripped and pulsed around her husband's thick, driving cock, and Cathy McGinnis, the pastor's wife, exploded in orgasm.

Sam felt his wife convulse and let out a long, strong moan. He sucked in breath through clenched teeth as he drove into her. He wanted to steer her all the way through her pleasure, but the sensations around his swollen cock and the erratic, wild moans from his wriggling wife, were all too much. He let out a loud, desperate grunt of his own as he lost control. He slipped his drenched cock out of Cathy's still-spasming center with abandon, gripped, stroked, and lassoed thick white ropes of cum across his wife's back and all over her heart-shaped cheeks.

Exhausted, the lovers both took a moment to catch their breath. Sam looked down on his work, at the white slippery streaks racing up his wife's back. He was impressed he could muster such volume after the previous night. She looked so sexy, splattered in his cream. It was something he never even thought to ask for, but was now quickly becoming something he was desperate to witness again.

Cathy looked back over her shoulder, shooting him the most devilish smile he'd ever seen.

"Umm; good morning, sweetie." she chuckled. His spent cock throbbed in his hand.

Cathy's eyes caught the clock on their bedside table and shot wide.

"Shit, we gotta get going!" Sam had completely lost track of time. It was Sunday morning, and he had a sermon to deliver. Church was the furthest thing from his mind, however. Cathy bounded up off the bed. Sam's eyes were glued to her as she padded off to the bathroom, a certain pep in her step, fresh semen cascading down her back.

He heard the shower turn on.

"What a woman," he thought.

Watching her husband from the pews, Cathy had a hard time focusing on the sermon he was giving. Her mind was on the activities of the previous evening, and the activities of the morning. She wondered if it was wrong, sitting there in church day dreaming about fucking her husband, being fucked by him, about his hot cum spurting out all over her, but every time she caught his eye and saw him try to suppress a smirk she knew he was thinking the same thing.

She was trying to keep her thoughts more Godly, but they just seemed to get dirtier. She thought about being up there with him tucked down behind the pulpit on her knees, taking him into her mouth while he evangelized, listening to his loud hallelujah when he finally filled her mouth with his cum.

She shook it off; thinking about doing naughty things to her husband was one thing, but feeling herself get moist under the eyes of the lord made her feel a little strange. It would just have to wait till later.

After the service, as the congregation mingled, Cathy made a B-line to Sandy. Sandy had been the one to give her the suggestion of opening up more with Sam, and she needed to tell her all about it.

"Sandy!" she almost yelled, touching her on the shoulder.

"Hey Cath, what's up?" Sandy was chatting with her husband Don and their best friend Kelly.

"I just wanted to um, thank you, for the advice you gave me yesterday. It was, very productive."

After a slight pause to try and remember what advice she gave, Sandy's eyes lit up, followed by a sly smile. "Oh! Of course; come with me, and tell me all about it!"

Sandy excused herself from her husband and friend with a wink, and slipped away with Cathy. Don and Kelly looked at each other and smirked knowingly at each other. What Cathy didn't know is that Sandy had told them both all about the conversation they had had at the pool party.

The three of them had met at Sandy and Don's for drinks that evening after the party. Their daughter Steph was out for the evening, as were Kelly's daughter Alex and her stepson Tim. They got to talking about the party, and about the new youth pastor Ginny. The girls agreed she was quite a hottie, and could tell by the way Don shifted around in his pants that he agreed as well.

This led Sandy to recount her talk with Cathy, and got the three of them speculating on the love life of their pastor and his wife. Don's pants began to grow tighter, and the girls began to tease him, making their idle speculations naughtier and naughtier, until the teasing stopped, and the two women gleefully found themselves on the floor, between Don's legs, taking turns sucking his cock.

This was not the first time this had happened, nor would it be the last. Unbeknownst to anyone in their church, these three had been regularly enjoying each other physically for years. Their fellow parishioners would surely be shocked to find out what these three had done with each other, and others. Cathay would be shocked as well if she knew discussion of her conversation with Sandy led to Don taking turns fucking the two fr

Reverend & Mrs. McGinnis: Part 1

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Mon, 22 Jun 2026 18:24:00 +0000

Reverend & Mrs. McGinnis: Part 1

Christine's parents learn to reconnect and explore.

Based on a post by Liminally Spaced. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

It was Wednesday, so that meant that Pastor Sam McGinnis and his wife Cathy should have been having sex, not sitting on opposite sides of the living room watching tv.

Cathy felt a familiar, pleasant flutter emanate from her loins, one spurred on by the handsome lead actor in their favorite show. As the credits rolled, she turned her frisky eyes to her husband of 15 years, the father of their beautiful teenage daughter Christine, her lover, her partner, her absolute soul mate, and found him quietly asleep.

Turning off the tv, Cathy gave Sam a kiss on the forehead and left him undisturbed. Settling into bed for the night, she glanced over at her nightstand and contemplated reaching inside for her vibrator, the way she had done on many a similar night, but this time she only glanced.

Cathy turned over, and drifted off to sleep wondering how they had ended up here, where even scheduled sex racked up more I O Use than "oh my Gods".

In fact, it was a wonder that they were sexually compatible at all.

Sam was a virgin when they met, and remained one up until their wedding night. He was a believer and a follower of Christ, and had an eye on the seminary, when he was young.

He may have had more Christly pursuits, but he was still a man, and still filled with the same hormones and desires coursing through his body as every other 18 year old.

As his teenage years progressed, and his lustful desires came online, Sam developed one vice: masturbation.

He believed it to be a sin, but he also believed it to be the only way to process and deal with the lustful urges that came with being a hormonal eighteen year old, surrounded by equally hormonal, and equally horny, eighteen year olds.

He went to public school and had a lot of female friends, as he was generally considered non-threatening due to his religious nature, and therefore ended up as the sounding board for many of their relationship problems. Most times this was just tame frustrations of high school dating, but many times this also included play by plays of new exciting experiences, and much to his delight and eternal frustration, the girls who were open with their experiences tended to be extremely open.

He heard from Lisa Berry about her boyfriend's big cock, and how happy she was when she finally managed to get it all inside her.

Amy Lennon told him about how she liked to masturbate with the handle of her favorite hairbrush.

Shauna Reed told him how she liked to swallow because it made the cleanup much easier.

Chloe Ricks told him how she and her best friend fingered each other on a cruise.

He took their sexual confession willingly and without judgment, and after hearing each of their stories, and asking rounds of probing questions that were enthusiastically answered, found himself in his bed at night, cock in hand, spraying his frustrated cum high into the air.

His sex-fueled mind rationalized this as a good compromise, as a way to keep his desires in check, and it served him well; up until his first night with his new bride.

Cathy herself was no stranger to the church. She was the youngest daughter of a very Catholic Italian family, and had attended an all-girls catholic high school. Her overprotective father thought it would keep her away from the boys, a notion she found extra humorous the night she lost her virginity to one of the students from the neighboring all-boys school, her school uniform skirt bunched up around her waist as he pushed into her.

A prolific masturbator already, losing her virginity was something high on her list of to-dos, catholic upbringing be damned, and opened the sexual floodgates for her at the age of eighteen. She had a number of boyfriends through college, and even a one night stand here or there, but it wasn't until she met her last boyfriend Tom that she really started having great sex.

An older man with a great cock, Tom lit her body up in ways that no college boy had to that point. Sex before Tom had been fun, but she realized she had mostly been catering to the desires of the men she was with. It was through Tom that she finally discovered she could focus on her own pleasure as well.

She was cum-drunk and thought she was in love, which was why it was so devastating when he left her to go back to the wife she didn't even know he had. He had had his fling with the young, hot college girl, and now it was time to grow up.

She learned a lot from Tom. Not only about love and sex, but about respect. She realized it wasn't something she had had much of in her relationships up to that point, but she did with Sam. He respected her.

Which is why she respected him when he told her he wanted to wait till marriage to have sex.

Sam and Cathy met at the wedding of a mutual friend, and the two hit it off immediately. They had the chaste courtship Cathy thought only existed in books and movies, but over the next year she never missed an opportunity to playfully test Sam's resolve. Cleavage here, a slight brush of the hand there, a hot word whispered into an attentive ear; it could have felt manipulative and mean, but Sam loved it, because he knew she respected his path.

He knew she had been with other men, and he didn't care; that was all in the past. What mattered was their future together. He always told her that regardless of what she may have done with other men, their wedding night would be their first time, and that's what mattered.

When that wedding night finally came, they barely made it into the hotel room before their bodies collided in a frenzy of kisses and gropes.

Cathy knew this was going to be Sam's first time, and she wanted him to truly get to experience it, so she took matters into her own hands to make sure he did.

Pushing him against the closed door of the room, Cathy sank to her knees. She rustled through the bindings of Sam's pants, freed his cock, and took it into her mouth, deep and wet.

Sam groaned the groan of a man finally freed from repression. He had no reason to feel ashamed or guilty; this was no random woman along the way, this was his wife. His wife, on her knees, fully clothed, right there in the entryway of the hotel room, sucking his cock.

It felt right. It felt good. For Cathy as well. In her moments of weakness she had been worried that making a commitment to a man she had never been with would be a mistake, but there, tasting him for the first time, feeling his thick length slip between her lips and fill her mouth, she knew there was nothing to fear. She was pleasing this man, pleasing her husband, not because of some perceived obligation, but because she loved him.

Quickly, she felt his hands on her head, gripping at her hair. His body began to twitch, gasps started to echo in the tight entryway, and his balls jumped in her caressing hand as Sam filled his wife's mouth with a thick load of cum.

He felt like his whole body was vibrating out of his cock and into her mouth. It was unlike anything he had ever felt. He had jerked off countless times, but this was something wholly different. New. Special.

The two young newlyweds never left each other's gaze as Cathy pulled off his cock and discreetly wiped her lips. Sam saw her throat pulse as she swallowed. She smiled. His cock throbbed; he was still hard. The sensations, the intensity of the moment, his body was still buzzing.

The feeling was mutual. Cathay was soaking wet, and practically trembling before her new husband. He helped her to her feet, and held her close. Their breath came strong and fast, like two animals in heat.

Their lips collided, tongues thrashing. Sam tasted an unfamiliar flavor as he explored his new bride's mouth. He knew at once it was his cum. This only made him throb harder.

They tumbled backward toward the bed. Cathy knew there would be plenty of time for finesse; a whole life's worth of time; -but right now there was only one thing they both wanted.

Sam sighed as Cathy's breasts were freed to the night air. He had never seen them, barely touched them, and now, with them presented for his enjoyment, he was ravenous for them.

Supple, perky, modest, they fit perfectly in his hands. She moaned as he squeezed them, moaned louder when his lips latched on to her nipple.

Clothes wrenched asunder, barely off, some still hanging on for dear life, Cathy wrapped her legs around her husband and felt the dripping tip of his hard, desperate cock sliding nearer and nearer to her boiling center, but never finding the mark.

Cathy ran her hands over the muscles in his arms and back as he suckled and squeezed. The abstinence in their relationship obviously went both ways, and she needed this as bad as he did. It had been almost two years since she last had sex.

Frantically she reached down and positioned him. His head slipped between her lips. They locked eyes. She nodded. He pushed.

Sam may have been a virgin, but he knew enough to be gentle on this first entry. Besides, he wanted to. He wanted to feel every millimeter.

He momentarily lost his breath as he fed his cock into his new bride. The heat, the pressure, the pleasure, it was a revelation. Cathy's eyes widened as she received him, gasping. She didn't know if it was the multi-year celibacy, or the fact that for the first time she was with someone she actually loved, but at that moment, Cathy felt like it wasn't just his first time, but hers as well. It was their first time, and that was what mattered.

She felt his pubic bone press against hers as he bottomed out inside her. They held still for a moment, kissing, feeling their bodies connected as one.

Their eyes locked, and they smiled. She ran a hand over his face, the contours and ridges of his cheeks, the pillowy softness of his lips. Of her husband's lips. Her husband, who at that moment was filling her up with his thick, hard cock.

"Sam," she said breathlessly. She felt him twitch inside her. It made her smile.

"Yes?" he said, looking down at his new bride under him.

"Please, fuck me."

He smiled. He throbbed. He kissed her. He did as he was asked.

They rolled around the bed, gasping, feeling, experiencing each other for the first time. Thanks to Cathy's strategic blowjob, Sam was primed, allowing them to really enjoy their first time together.

When their coupling reached its feverish peak, a chorus of moans and gasps echoing through their hotel room, Sam thrust wildly into his new bride and erupted, filling her with his seed.

Cathy smiled. This was a first for her; Sam was the first person to ever cum inside her without a condom. At least on purpose, anyway. Her body didn't accept birth control, so it was condoms or nothing for her, and she'd be lying if she said there wasn't at least one slip up along the way. It would be the first of many loads she accepted from him in the early days of their marriage.

Christine was born about 10 months later.

The pregnancy had been rough, and they stopped having sex a few months in. The birth of their daughter had also coincided with Sam finally achieving his dream of being the pastor of a church.

The two lost no love or affection for each other, but as their lives got busier, physical intimacy started to slide down the list of to dos. Add to that Cathy's desire to not have another child after the stress of the first pregnancy, and it meant that the times they did make love they were relegated to using condoms. They got the job done, but didn't exactly set their erotic lives on fire.

As Christine got older, and Sam and Cathy had more time to themselves, they realized their erotic life was something that needed more attention and care; enter the weekly scheduled sex night.

It started off great, those first few nights coming close to that fire they had for each other on their honeymoon, but soon, as these things do, they fell back into habit, and found their erotic lives filled with more rain checks than orgasms.

When they did make love, there was only one word Cathy could think of to describe it: efficient.

Like clockwork, some light foreplay would lead to Sam struggling to work the condom down over his cock, slip into her missionary-style, and begin thrusting. It's not that it was unpleasant, on the contrary, Sam always did his best to get her off, it was just routine. After her orgasm, or some nights in lieu of, Sam would grip her legs the same way, push deeply into her a four or five times, and fill the plasticky barrier.

Even when she didn't cum, she loved it when he did. The condom was a pain, for sure, but she loved the feeling of him on top of her, loving her, filling her up. The throb and twitch of his member as he emptied himself inside her always sent a pleasant tickle through her body, at least on the nights she got to experience it.

This was not one of those nights.

Cathy didn't blame her husband for falling asleep; he had been working very hard, preparing the church for the arrival of the new youth pastor Ginny, and her husband Todd.

Having a big in-ground pool meant the welcome barbecue was going to be at their house at the weekend, and the week had been spent preparing for a party that would see a large number of the church's congregation attend.

People started arriving around noon, with the guests of honor rolling in just before one. They were all smiles as they were greeted by their new community, and Cathy and Sam had met them both with handshakes and hugs.

It was the first time Cathy had met Ginny. Sam had spent a number of phone calls with her, going over details and theory, and had already met her in person on a number of occasions for lunch, or to show her around her new spiritual home.

He had never mentioned how pretty she was.

A gorgeous Filipino girl in her late twenties, Ginny had a big, beaming smile, and a casual style that wasn't provocative, but wasn't stuffy either. Sam was quick to lead them into the party, all smiles, giving Ginny plenty of attention. Sam was always so welcoming, so kind, and yet to Cathy's eyes she couldn't help but feel like there was an extra pep in his step as he introduced her around.

As they entered the party, Ginny's husband Todd's hand perched on her lower back just above her perky, young ass, Cathy couldn't help but wonder what their sex life was like.

Later, Cathy was sitting in quiet thought, idly stirring her drink, spaced out to the point that she didn't even hear the question from the person sitting next to her.

"Hmm? What's that, Sandy?"

"She was just being lewd, Cathy," Kelly piped in, across the table from her best friend, "don't pay it any attention."

"What! I just said, having this pool party was genius; I bet the boys can't wait to get a peek at what the new girl has hiding under her clothes! It's only natural, it's nothing scandalous." Sandy spun the stem of her margarita glass slowly. "In fact, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious myself!"

"Sandy!" Kelly chided playfully

"Oh come on, Kel, don't act like you're not looking forward to seeing what she looks like in a bathing suit!"

"I'm not!" Kelly said matter of factly, before a smile broke out across her face and she let slip "I'm more interested in her husband Todd." The two friends laughed, but Cathy only weakly smiled.

Cathy loved Sandy and Kelly; they were two best friends who were very much on her wavelength. They loved the church, loved the community, but were nowhere near as uptight and pious as some of the other congregation, Sandy especially.

As far as bodies went, Sandy had one to die for. Curves in all the right places, a mane of beautiful dirty blonde hair, and two magnificent breasts that seemed to defy age, gravity, and childbirth, Sandy was a knockout, and her husband Don was her equal in every way. It was tough for Cathy not to be jealous of Sandy and Don. It was clear that they were still very much in love, very much still physical with each other. They didn't flaunt it, and were never inappropriate, but Cathy could tell.

She was even embarrassed to admit she had touched herself in the shower at least once, thinking about what their sex must be like, jealous, wishing her own marriage could be as passionate.

If she only knew,

Kelly headed off toward the bathroom, and offered to get the girls more drinks, which they both eagerly accepted, leaving Cathy and Sandy alone. Sandy sipped her drink. She noticed a far-away look in Cathy's eye, and followed her gaze over to Sam, standing by the grill talking to Don. She didn't blame her, on either account.

Sam was a good looking guy, she wasn't so blind as to not notice, but Sandy couldn't help but take a minute to ogle her own husband. Fit and strong, he looked so good, his muscles shiny and golden, pouring out from the straps of his tank top. He was wearing the swimsuit she bought him for their trip to Ibiza. She felt a stirring in her loins as she remembered seeing that swimsuit out of the corner of her eye, wrapped around his ankles as Don fucked her in the ass on the balcony of their suite. It had been a while since she took him in her ass. She smiled as she contemplated surprising him with it when they got home that night.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Sandy said with a coy smile.

"Hm?" Cathy replied, distracted.

"I'm saying the grill ain't the only place you're gonna find some delicious meat, am I right?"

"Oh," Cathy said dreamily, "Sure."

Sandy eyed her friend suspiciously. Usually Cathy was happy to play along with some gentle lewd humor, but something was different. She had something on her mind.

Sandy decided not to push, but she didn't have to.

"Hey, Sandy, can I ask you something?" Cathy said, not looking at her friend, idly spinning the ice melting in her glass.

"Anything, love," Sandy responded, more curious than ever.

"You and Don, how often do you guys have sex?"

A smile broke out over Sandy's face. "Naughty, naughty, Mrs. McGinnis!"

"I'm not trying to be, I'm serious, Sandy, I know you're not shy."

"How often, like how many times a day?"

"A day?" Cathy almost spit, her eyes exploding up from her melting ice.

"I'm just kidding," Sandy laughed, "but the look on your face was priceless."

Sandy thought about what to say next. She could tell Cathy the truth, tell her that she and Don not only fucked very regularly, but that the also frequently enjoyed the company of other people in their bed as well, that there was at least one member of her husband's congregation with whom she had shared Don's cock, but Sandy knew that wasn't why she was asking.

"I think the question is, how

After The Vows: Part 2

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Sun, 21 Jun 2026 23:21:00 +0000

After The Vows: Part 2

The Consummation. A chaste couple’s epiphany of pleasures.

From the Awakening, By Estcher Listen to thePodcast at Steamy Stories.

Into the Depths

He smiled at me and then sat up and knelt before my spread legs. His skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat, just like me. I looked down at his hardness, pointing at my pussy. He held his cock in the middle and pushed it toward my opening.

“I love you, Emma,” he whispered, tearing his eyes from my vagina to look at me. “You are the most beautiful woman in the world. Thank you for marrying me. Thank you for trusting in me. I will never do anything to hurt you. I will protect you all my life. Give you everything you desire. Just say the word and it’s yours.”

“I want your beautiful hard cock inside me, Daniel. Make love to me, husband!”

We looked, watching, feeling, sighing, as he pressed his large cock to my small pussy opening. He pushed and his large head spread my lips apart, soaked his head in my juices, and his head slipped a little further down, rubbing me in a delightful way, before my vaginal opening trapped his cockhead in place.

We looked at each other and grinned and looked back down. He pushed and his cock head entered me. The pressure was more than I had imagined. His hardness bore into me, pushing past my lips and into my tight tunnel. I gasped at the enormity of it. I watched his large head disappear somehow inside me. I could feel him spreading me open. His cock. My cock. The only cock that would ever be inside me.

He held himself there and panted. We stared at one another in surprise.

“Daniel, it feels so good! You’re huge, baby! Push inside! You won’t hurt me! Push it inside!”

We watched as he pushed another inch into me. I moaned at the pressure and pleasure. I felt something small tear and realised what little remained of my hymen was gone forever and sighed contentedly. The pain was nothing compared to the pressure. I squirmed a little, adjusting myself, and Daniel pushed a little deeper.

Our eyes were riveted to the scene. Watching our love join in the most amazing union possible. Only two inches were inside me. He pulled back a little and we watched as his cock pulled the lips of my pussy out with him. It looked obscene and glorious.

“Daniel, look at you! Filling me and stretching me! Does it feel good?”

He grunted and pushed those two marvelous inches back inside me. My wetness lubricated him, and I felt his shaft sliding delightfully inside me. I was so stretched, my clit was touched so very lightly and it sent a ripple of pure pleasure through me. There was no way sex felt this pleasurable, I thought. My head fell back, and I moaned, the sound escaping me of its own volition.

He pulled back and then slid the same two inches back inside me. My head snapped up to watch. His glorious black cock was inside me and I needed, and wanted, to feel him deeper.

“Deeper, baby! Deeper!”

He pushed an extra inch into me as I watched. Three inches of his male cock was inside me. A fucking hard male cock. My male cock. I felt something inside me stir. A crazy deep desire I had kept pent up inside. Caged like some demented demon. The cage was opening. Daniel was the key.

He pulled back and I groaned at the pleasure. His cock rubbed me inside. Touched me in a place I didn’t know existed or could give me such pleasure.

He pushed back in, and I gasped when four inches filled me. My vaginal walls hugged him, squeezed him, claimed him. I could feel his massive head encroaching my depths, claiming me. My pussy was his and he was taking it. He pulled back and we watched his cock, slick with my wetness, slide out until just his head remained inside me. I could see his glans and wanted it back inside.

He pushed back inside but this time my hips rose to meet him. I pushed hard against him and felt his cock drive deep inside me. I don’t know how much it was, but he was stopped hard by my cervix. His cock rammed up against it.

My cage door was flung open. All my desires flew free like from Pandora’s box. I could be as carnal as I wanted with my husband. I could give in to all my secret desires. This was my husband, my lover, my man, my cock. I looked down and saw two inches remained outside my vagina. I wanted it all inside me and knew he simply wouldn’t all fit.

Daniel grunted hard and pulled back his cock. We watched. My labia clung to him, stretching out and wrapped around him. His cock gleamed with white wetness. My white wetness. It looked delicious to me. I needed to taste my pussy on his cock. I smiled. I would. Later.

He drove his cock back into me and we both moaned loudly. He pulled back and pushed back inside. My legs lifted and wrapped around his lower back. He moved up and over me and thrust. And thrust. My world reduced to the sensation of being so fully penetrated. Stretched and probed. His so very hard cock driving relentlessly into my depths, filling me, pleasuring me in ways I didn’t know were possible. His cock head was the best part. It was large and drove inside me, spreading me for his long shaft. I clenched my pussy instinctually and felt the pleasure heightened beyond what I thought my brain could handle.

The cage inside my mind exploded. I thrust my hips up to meet his and felt his cock pound my pussy without end. It was a blur of penetration and withdrawal. Over and over. Each little motion sending ripples of such pure joy I could only thank God for this gift.

I awoke.

Not literally.

Something inside me awoke. A hunger. A need. I was free to be whomever I wanted or needed to be for my husband. Words, foreign to me, stirred in my mind. I had to voice them. They needed to escape. A vibrating intense pleasure was rising inside me. I could feel and see the same thing happening to Daniel.

Words poured from my mouth. Vulgar words that only gave us both more pleasure.

“FUCK ME, DANIEL! FUCK MY CUNT! FUCK ME!”

The words left my mouth and seemed to echo in the suite. Daniel kissed me then. He pressed his entire weight down on me and pressed me into the mattress and duvet. He thrust harder. His rhythm was off but that did something to increase my pleasure. I felt his cock grow thicker. His thrusts shortened and then, recognising my husband was about to cum inside me for the very first time, I came.

We came together. His cock erupted inside me. The feeling was indescribable. He made me a complete woman in that moment. The pleasure I had been feeling expanded and flew out of me. I came. My first true orgasm. God’s gift to me for showing him the pleasure a husband and wife can experience together.

And more words flowed from me. Vile nasty words that I felt only brought me closer to the God who allowed all this to be. With my husband there were no lines in the sand. We could cross as many as we wanted. We were with God, and he blessed our union.

Later, my mother would confess she had had the same epiphany as me on her wedding night. She had cemented her husband to her. He would only have eyes for her after that.

My husband’s cock lurched and spasmed deep inside. His hot fluids splashed inside me and added to the pleasure. Each jerk of his cock sent my pleasure rocketing higher. My nails dug into his ass cheeks and pulled him harder against me. The last two inches somehow disappeared inside me and did something to me that took my orgasm to the next level.

“I fucking love you, you fucking black beast! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck your fucking wife! Fill me! Oh my God! The pleasure! Daniel! DANIEL! I LOVE YOU! Keep fucking me! Don’t you fucking stop! Fuck me with that beautiful hard cock! Give me babies! Oh my God!”

We crashed from that high. Daniel lay limp on top of me. His gorgeous body pressed against me and kept me in place. I wanted to be held down and filled. His shoulders shook and I scrambled for his head and held it. Like me, tears leaked from his eyes.

“I love you, Emma. I love you so much!”

I kissed his tears and face. I found his mouth and sucked his tongue into mine. He moaned and his cock, still hard inside me, lurched.

Fun Cleanup

I looked into his eyes. “I need to clean you up.”

“What?”

“I need to clean your cock.”

“Why? It’s not dirty, Emma. It’s just a little sticky.”

“Yes, exactly. I need to clean all that off you.”

“Um, okay? We only just started. I’ll go get a washcloth if that’s what you need right now.”

I growled and pushed him over and followed him somehow keeping his cock inside me. “No baby. With my mouth.”

His eyes widened. “You mean…”

I slid down him, groaning with him as his cock slipped out of me. His cock slipped along my stomach, leaving a trail of our combined juices. I could smell us now. A rich musky flavor coupled with something sharp. A smell I knew was his ejaculate and my pussy wetness.

I slid down his body and leaned back. I admired his long, hard cock, gleaming black, covered with our cum.

“Daniel, you have a beautiful cock, baby.”

“Thanks, love. But look at you! You are every man’s wet dream. My Italian Goddess. Your olive skin, your gorgeous black hair, your eyes! You are the most beautiful woman in the world, Emma.”

“And I’m your wife. And you are my husband.”

I took his cock in my hand and felt just how slick it was with my wetness.

“Always,” he said and moaned as my thumb stroked just under the head of his cock. I squeezed gently and watched a bead of cum appear.

“My mother told me what I needed to do with my husband. I understood her words. But now? Daniel, I understand her words. She never said just how much I would enjoy this. Daniel?”

“Yes, love?”

“In the bedroom? You and me? I am your woman to do anything you want with. Anytime. Anywhere. Anything.”

“Emma?”

“Shush. We are one now. There’s no shame. No sin. Just our pleasure. Let me pleasure you. And you will pleasure me. Okay?”

“Okay, Emma. This is wild. Crazy, even!”

“This is where love leads, Daniel. I’m only just realizing it. I love you, so much.”

Daniel went to respond but I took half his cock into my mouth. My tongue swirled around his cock and lapped up our juices. I was prepared to hate it. Expected to hate it. Instead, it tasted divine to me. It was our love on my tongue. Daniel moaned and thrust into my mouth.

I suctioned my mouth and popped it off him. “Daniel! We taste amazing!”

He stared at me. My lips and mouth covered in our mess from our love making. “Kiss me,” he whispered.

My eyes went round, and, in a flash, I had my lips on his. He moaned and sucked and licked at my mouth. We shared our love and tears escaped me in the beauty of it. He was just like me.

Throughout our marriage, we did that. The taste always reminds us of our love. It’s as simple as that. Some might grimace and shake their heads. But not Daniel and me. It tasted of the divine. It was our love made real and substantial. Our ‘eucharist’(gratefulness).

Her New Toy

I went back to his cock and loved it with my mouth. I cleaned every part of his cock and he stayed hard the whole time. I spread his legs when I was almost done and then pushed his knees up a little.

“What are you…” he groaned when my flat tongue licked his scrotum.

He had a clean-shaven scrotum. He had done that for me. Later I would find I liked it hairy for some reason. I loved all the hair on his body. He just seemed more manly to me that way. I lapped gently at his scrotum and coated the whole thing in my spit. I loved how his testicles felt under my tongue, and how they rolled and moved. Daniel was in heaven. I could hear him.

I stroked his cock gently as I did it. He had a good ten inches of length on him, so I kept my hand at the top and felt his cock head, slick with spit, thrusting through my loving hand. My tongue lapped at his balls and then I dipped lower a

After The Vows: Part 1

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Sat, 20 Jun 2026 23:20:00 +0000

The Virgin Couple: Part 1

After the Vows. A chaste couple’s epiphany of pleasures.

From the Awakening, By Estcher Listen to thePodcast at Steamy Stories.

My name was Emma Mary Fiore Amato. Now I proudly carry my husband's name: Emma May Fiore Williams. My brand new, gorgeous, and sexy husband is Daniel Christopher Williams. He's African American and I am Italian American.

We met in the University of California San Diego (UCSD) as freshmen. We dated despite my reservations of dating a black man. I was not a fan of unwanted attention and being seen with him at school and downtown caused eyes to stare. The United States is rampant with racism. It's everywhere and palatable and real in every sense. It vibrates across social norms and in the media and sometimes openly on the street.

But I was attracted to Daniel right away. We shared a class together and the first time I walked into the classroom, and I saw him, my heart had skipped a beat. He had felt the same way. It wasn't until a month later that he summoned the nerve to ask me out. We went to a dinner down at Liberty Station and then walked the boardwalk past where the San Salvador replica galleon was being made and along the inner harbour.

It was a lovely first date. Afterward, he kissed me outside my dormitory, and I kissed him back and told him I would like to go out again. He was so pleased.

Daniel is gorgeous. He's my height but very slim. He keeps his hair short and has a short-cropped beard. He wears black rimmed glasses. He does a little gym and a little cardio. Not a lot, but just enough to keep him fit. He's strong. His ass is golden.

I was first attracted to his eyes. His glasses have a way of making them larger than life and they pulled me in. His dark skin enhancing the white of his eyes and his lovely teeth past his full lips. That first kiss outside my dorm had melted me.

On our second date I admitted I was a devout Catholic, being a proper Italian American girl. Sex was not allowed outside the marital chamber. I could tell he was devastated. We could both feel the attraction to one another. A look from him would get me all tingly. I was a regular at the confessional at my church, admitting my sin and lust. I would accept my penance and say my prayers kneeling at a pew, gazing with adoration to the figure of Christ above the altar, counting my prayers on my rosary.

Throughout our years at UCSD we were never apart. Our love life was constrained to kissing throughout our freshman year, to a little petting during our sophomore and junior years, and as seniors we had performed oral sex on each other a couple of times. My penance for that consisted of working at various soup kitchens in the Gaslamp District of San Diego. Daniel joined me and I think I truly fell in love with him when he did. He shared my penance and I rejoiced.

My parents were shocked when I had introduced Danial to them. They aren't racist, but they had hoped I would meet someone "more like me", my mother had said. But it was too late for me. I adored Daniel and together we were wonderful. In time, they accepted our relationship. It helped that Daniel was so well spoken and so intelligent. They could see the good in him and although he was Baptist by his christening, he believed in God and that was enough for my parents to accept him.

It was so hard not to cave into our sexual desires. We wanted each other so terribly badly. But I was a good Catholic girl and took my faith very seriously. Daniel understood and somehow, he stayed with me throughout college. Our friends always tried to pressure us. My girlfriends thought I was archaic; disillusioned about values they said no longer applied in the modern world. His friends were no better, urging him to leave me for "someone better". By the end of college, we had few friends, but by that point in our relationship, I only needed Daniel and he only needed me.

We decided to wait until our careers started before we took things any further with our relationship. He started work at an architectural firm in San Diego, and I accepted an accounting position out in Coronado. One year later he proposed to me. My heart soared on that day, and I will never forget it. It had been magical and perfect, and I accepted right away, and he spun me around.

My parents had known. Daniel has asked them for my hand in marriage and they had happily agreed. We set a date for end summer, and I dove into planning and preparations. My only remaining girlfriend, a friend from church, became my bridesmaid and helped with everything.

The wedding was beautiful. Standing before my future husband in front of God and my family and friends and making my vows was the most beautiful thing I had ever done. He looked so gorgeous in his tuxedo. I never loved him more. We said our vows, exchanged rings, and then he kissed me in front of everybody. Claiming me as his bride and wife.

I felt liberated. He was now my husband. Everything we had always wanted to do for the past five years were now open to us. We could consummate our marriage and love. Over and over again. I walked back down the aisle, a woman and a wife, and my pussy couldn't have been wetter. Lust ran over me in waves and I gripped Daniel's hand so tightly.

The rest of the day and evening went by in a blur. I had to watch the video later to see just how much of a good time we had. But mostly I watched how Daniel and I looked at each other. Everyone said we looked with such love at each other. In truth, we were looking at each other with unbridled lust.

Then, thankfully, we exited the reception to cheering family and friends and entered the limo my father had provided, and we were whisked away to our hotel. In the morning, we were heading to Hawai'i for our honeymoon. But tonight. Tonight, I would become my man's woman. He would take me and complete me.

I don't recall checking in, or the elevator ride to our suite, or Daniel carrying me in his arms across the threshold to our suite. What I remember is tearing off our clothes and collapsing on the large California King bed. Later, I would peel rose petals off my flesh and Daniel's.

I was a good Catholic girl. I had followed my faith, confessed my sins, and did my penance. But now? Now I was married and in the eyes of God, I would and could pleasure my husband. I knew the scripture. My chains were removed.

"Wives, be subject to your husbands, as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, and is himself its Saviour. As the church is subject to Christ, so let wives also be subject in everything to their husbands." (Eph. 5:22--24).

My mother had given me advice the day before the wedding. She said it was a long tradition and I would do the same for my daughter one day. She had held my hands and spoke to me as one wife to her daughter bride. She passed on to me the secrets of a happy marriage that the priest had never mentioned during our marriage preparation classes at the church. She spoke openly of things I would need to learn to do. And often, she had said. And willingly. Her attention to detail was unnerving to me but I listened to everything. Some things she said were frightening, sounding foul, but my mother laughed and told me to wait and see.

"Your father loves me just as much as the day we married, Emma," she said, holding my hands and looking into my eyes. "Every day I let him know I need him and want him. To be intimate with him and he does the same for me. Marriages fail when that stops. There will be times you don't feel the need or desire. You must fight that. Embrace him. Kiss him. Fondle him. Whisper in his ear that he is your everything and his will is yours to fulfil. Do you understand?"

I nodded, biting my lip. I think I understood. My mother laughed at my expression.

"Wake him with your mouth in the morning. Not every day. But some days or it will become routine. Pleasure him. Take his seed inside you. Swallow his love. It can be daunting. You'll get used to it. He is your man, and his seed will be yours. Claim it. Only you can receive it through your marriage. Don't make him regret choosing you over all others.

"And seek your own pleasure. You should never regret choosing him. He should willingly pleasure you with his mouth. Accept it and bask in it. It is your husband claiming what is his by marriage. Your womanhood will pleasure him. So trim down there, okay? Did your bridesmaid take you to the salon?"

I nodded, feeling heat rush to my face. I had been waxed. It had hurt so badly, but I had found pleasure in it in a small way which frightened me. I nodded at my mother.

"Good. And all the way between your legs?"

I nodded again, feeling more heat.

"Do you know what sodomy is?"

I nodded feeling horror.

"My priest told me before I was married that sodomy is a sin between men," said my mother, looking hard at me.

"Yes, mamma."

"And he added it does not concern marital relations between man and wife."

"Mamma!" I said in shock. I thought of her and dad. "Did you and poppa...?"

"Oh, yes, Emma. Otherwise, you would have a lot more siblings rather than just you."

"What?"

"You'll need to watch your cycle. Avoid pregnancies. Anal sex is the best way to do that when you are ovulating."

I stared at my mother. Questions raced through my thoughts faster than I could fully formulate and finish them.

"I enjoy it, Emma. Pleasuring your father gives me pleasure. Be patient. Try it for yourself. Push past the initial pain and I think you will be surprised. Do this for your husband. For you."

I couldn't speak.

"Throughout your marriage your husband should want to take you all the time, correct?"

"Y-yes."

"Invite him to take you. Place yourself at his mercy. Let him claim that which is his by marriage."

"Mamma!"

"And take him when you want, Emma. You are equals in this, despite what the scriptures say. This is a partnership. If you lust after him, take him. If he lusts after you, give yourself to him. Do this, this simple thing, and your marriage will be full of such love and last for eternity. You will join yourselves in heaven and find such blessings. I'm so happy for you, Emma. Daniel is a beautiful man. Your children will be beautiful."

"Thank you, mamma."

"One more thing. Are you still intact?"

I knew what she meant. My hymen had been lost as a teenager doing simple girlish things. Mine opened riding my bike. I shook my head at my mother. "No, mamma."

"And I know you are a virgin. I am so proud of you, Emma. I saw how hard it was for you throughout college. Tomorrow night, you give him your everything. What you do with your husband in your bed, will please God. Everything your heart desires. Put your soul into it, Emma. Seize your pleasure and his, okay?"

"Mamma? Did nonna give you this same advice?"

"No. I had to learn the hard way. I promised myself I would not let my own daughter go into her marriage bed unprepared. We have more to discuss. Are you okay with all this?"

"Yes, momma. I'm uncomfortable, but thankful."

"Okay, we still have a lot to cover. Like how to truly pleasure your husband with your mouth. Places on his body you need to explore..."

"Explore? Like what?"

Mother chuckled. "I'm warming up to this now. Your father has always had the best sex with me. It's okay Emma! You came from our love! Now, the penis is a strange thing at first. Daniel is likely very large. But a man's pleasure also comes from his nipples, and his scrotum and testicles. Play with them. Lightly! So very lightly! And below them. Pay attention there. And below that, too. Do you understand where I am talking about?"

She meant his asshole. I was horrified.

"Make sure he is clean. You, too. Take the time to keep yourself fresh down there. Inside a man is a place. You'll need to find it. Put a finger inside, find it, rub it."

"Momma!"

"Hush, you have much the same place inside you. Teach him to find it. Your bodies will be one, once married. There is no shame. It is the beauty of sex between a married couple. Seek your pleasure and give your pleasure. There is so much on the Internet. Watch with him. Learn together."

"Yes, momma. Do you do all these things with poppa?"

"Oh, God, yes. We're older now and we have slowed down. But yes. We still do. I adore your father and his body. Have you ever seen us fight? Not speak to one another?"

"No, momma." And it was true. The love between my parents was there for all to see. They constantly hugged and kissed. I've seen them mildly grope each other. I've heard them through the bedroom walls. I only could pray my marriage would be as close to the beauty of theirs. With my mother's advice I think I now knew how. If I could be brave enough.

"And now the more mundane things. You and Daniel will be equal in all things. You are not some toy or trophy the bible would have you believe. The bible was written by some seriously misogynistic men..."

My memory of that first night with Daniel is seared into my soul. I subjected myself to my husband. My heart soared. My soul sang. I praised God.

I stood fully naked before my husband, and he stood naked before me. I am a beautiful woman. Many men have lusted after me. But I was only for my husband, and I stood proudly before him, exposed so willingly for the first time to his gaze. I watched his eyes devour me. He stared into my brown eyes first and I'm sure he saw the same lust as I saw in his. His gaze slowly drifted down and lingered on my breasts. My nipples were tight and painful, lifting to the sky. I saw him lick his lips and delight filled me. So far, he did not look disappointed. His eyes roamed over my flat stomach and then lower.

He stared long and hard at my perfectly waxed pussy. I had left a small, heart-shaped, tuft of my fur on my mound. My wetness trickled down my thigh and it tickled. I saw him lick his lips with his hunger and it thrilled me. I felt exposed. Wanton. But I was married, and this was my husband. A smile crossed my lips.

I was awakening to my lust and hunger, and it thrilled me. I stared equally back at my husband. We had done some things together. Fully clothed. I had let him taste me a few times. My penance for that had been the soup kitchens. And I had put him in my mouth a few times. I had never swallowed, though. I had spat it out, shame filling me, knowing I disappointed him. But I could not take his sperm inside me until we were married.

But now I stared at his slim figure. His brown skin glistened in the dim light of the room. His chest was lightly sprinkled with dark hair, and I couldn't wait to feel my exposed breasts and nipples rubbing against it. He lacked a defined six pack, but his stomach was toned and flat. My eyes traced that delicious area below his stomach that lowered to his penis. The smooth skin demanded my mouth.

And I stared at his penis. I had stroked it before. Sucked it before. Did penance for it before. But now I could see it in all its glory. Black men are endowed and so was my husband. It was long and thick and stood hard and standing straight out from his body. The tip glistened with moisture. Veins ran along its length. Below it hung his heavy testicles. His manhood was displayed for me, and I knew tonight he would put it inside me and fill me. It was darker than the rest of him. The head was large and round and was even darker.

My ebony husband was panting for me. He wanted the pleasure only I could bring to him. And I wanted his in return. After my talk with my mother, I did a little research. Watched pornography that showed how to pleasure a man fully.

Another trickle of my wetness ran down my thigh and I shivered at the tickle. My husband watched it and his eyes widened.

"My husband," I purred. "I am so wet for you. You are so hard for me."

"Emma, you are gorgeous. Seeing you walking down the aisle in that dress? Oh my God, the angels were jealous, baby. All eyes were on you, but you only had eyes for me."

I had stared at him the whole way down the aisle. My papa handed me over and when I had stood before Daniel, my legs threatened to fail me. My love for him in that moment had risen above everything I thought I could reach. And I could see the same reflected back at me.

"And you, my Daniel, you looked so handsome. The perfect man. My man. My husband."

Daniel was losing himself in his lust for me. He was shaking, and so was I.

"Tonight, we will make love, Daniel. I've wanted this for years. I give my everything to you. Do you understand?"

He shook his head.

"We are married now. My body--all of it--is yours to pleasure yourself with. And I will pleasure myself with you. Over and over, again and again."

"My God, Emma. You are so beautiful. Look at you! A gorgeous Italian beauty! I love you so much. I am the luckiest man in the world that you could love me as I love you."

"And you are my ebony stud. You are so beautiful to me, Daniel. I have lusted after you since the first day we met. Do you remember?"

"How could I forget? Freshman year. Sitting in class, and in walks the woman of my dreams! A vision. So elegant and poised. I knew then I wanted to marry you."

"You did?"

"Oh, yes. It was love at first sight. I would have waited my entire life to be with you."

"Wait no longer, my love. I am yours. Take me. Take all of me. Whatever you desire. Anything."

"Anything? What do you mean?"

"All my body is yours now, Daniel. And all your body is mine. I mean to take it. I want you to take me, in any way you imagine. But first, I want you to make love to me. To enter me. To cum inside me and seal our marriage in our pleasure and love. I want to lie back and feel you enter me."

"Okay," replied Daniel, simply. His eyes looked wild.

I moved to him, crossing the distance in two steps, and pressed myself to him. My mouth found his with hunger and I groaned at the feel of his hard cock pressing between us, reaching up past my belly button. We kissed, our tongues dancing, our hands caressing and exploring. His fingers found my wet slit and slid down along my clit and into my depths. I groaned into his mouth and reached down and took his hard, hot penis into my gentle hand. I stroked him, savouring the glorious hardness and maleness of him.

We shuffled to the bed and flopped down hard on our sides. We squirmed our way further up the bed until we found the pillows. Rose petals clung to us. All that existed was his body and mine and the pleasures we would pull from one another.

I found myself on my back, my legs spread in a delicious wanton way I was now free to enjoy. Daniel crawled up between my legs until he lay on me, his cock pressed against my wet labia, spreading them apart and rubbing deliciously on my clit. We necked hard. My tongue driving into his mouth with desire. His tongue rammed into my mouth, and we sucked on each other's tongues, swallowing our spit, and sinking into each other's souls.

My mind was purely on my vagina. An ache I hadn't felt before burned down there. My pussy felt more alive than ever before. I was intimately aware of every little feeling. Wetness poured from me. I could feel the rivulets escaping me. My pussy felt like it was opening on its own. Spreading for my husband. My man. My lover. My best friend in the whole wide world.

The righteousness of it overwhelmed my emotions. I sobbed happy tears. I held Daniel's beautiful face in my hands and pressed my lips against his plump, full, sexual lips. Lips I wanted all over my body, tracing his tongue into places I had only dreamed of. And thanks to my mother's words--and a little bit of research--I knew what I wanted to do and taste.

Daniel shifted his hips. I felt his enormous cock head press against my opening.

"Wait!" I said, pushing on his shoulders. "I want to watch you enter me for the first time! Please!"

To be continued, By Estcher

Prepper Partners: Part 3

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Fri, 19 Jun 2026 12:38:00 +0000

Prepper Partners: Part 3

It couldn't happen but it did. Now, we have to survive.

By ronde, in 3 parts. Listen to the ► podcast at Connected.

I'd learned how to field dress an animal from Dad, but not how to cut it into steaks and roasts. As far back as I could remember, Dad had always taken his deer and the steer he killed every fall to a locker plant in town to be cut up and packaged. Mom said when they were starting out, they did that all themselves to save money and Christy said she'd watched her grandpa butcher several steers and thought she remembered what to do. Between them cutting and me carrying, it took us a whole day to get the steer cut up into manageable pieces and down in my freezer room.

I figured that steer had stretched our food supply by at least six months, and it broke the ice, so to speak. I planned on killing a steer or an older cow every winter after that. If things got turned around, I'd just pay the rancher for the beef. If they didn't, well, we needed the meat to survive and the rancher apparently didn't. About half the herd were cows, so there would be calves born the next spring. According to Christy, we'd have to watch which bull we let breed each cow, but if we kept half dozen bull calves, the herd would be self-sustaining. Over the summer, our meat would be beef stretched with rabbits, pheasants, and fish.

Reproduction.

We settled into a sort of routine for the rest of the winter. If it was sunny, I'd take my solar panels outside to charge the battery pack while Mom and Christy made breakfast. While I was outside, I'd see if there was anything on the radio. Usually there wasn't. Even the ham radio operators seemed to have gone quiet.

After breakfast, Mom and Christy would clean up the bunker or heat some water and wash our clothes. I'd take an axe and go split firewood or drive my truck into the trees to find some dead wood to carry back to the bunker. Once a week, we'd heat enough water that the three of us could take a shower.

I was happy that Mom and Christy got along so well for two reasons. Mom really needed another woman for company and so did Christy. They spent most days helping each other and talking about everything under the sun.

The other reason was now that I wasn't working my ass off at Ellison, I had some time to think about the future, not whether the world would ever be the same again, but about my personal future. Was this all there was to my future, to spend the rest of my life in an underground bunker and then die without leaving anything behind? That's what it was looking like more and more every day.

It was good that I had Mom there to talk to about it. She understood.

"I know what you mean. I used to worry about that when your dad and I were starting out. All we had was a few cattle and each other. If we'd died, nobody would have cared. It was after you were born I understood what my legacy would be. It would be you. That's every mother's legacy - her children."

I said there wasn't much of a chance of that happening, at least in the near future, but Mom just grinned.

"What if I told you that Christy thinks you're a pretty great guy? She does, you know. She's just too modest to tell you. If what you've been telling me is true, she might be your only chance. I can tell you that you could do a lot worse. Don't you like Christy?"

I did like Christy. She wasn't movie star beautiful, but she was still pretty, and I liked her personality. Because she was wearing Mom's clothes and they didn't fit, it was hard to tell much about the rest of her, but she looked pretty normal to me. She was also pretty practical about things just like I was, and she seemed to be adapting to what we now called life.

What Mom said about Christy liking me started to bring some things into focus too. Often, even though it was really cold when I went outside to do something, Christy would put on her coat and come out with me. Sometimes she'd just sit with me and other times, if the horses were close, she'd call to them and get them to come up to her. I thought she only did this to get some fresh air, but maybe she was trying to tell me something.

I told Mom I did like Christy, but even if we decided we fit together, it wouldn't do any good because there was no way we could get married. Mom just smiled.

"In case you've forgotten what your dad told you, you don't have to be married to have children. I promised your dad I'd never tell you this, but I think he'd understand. Teddy, you were born six and a half months after your dad and I were married. We went to Vegas and he paid the minister fifty dollars to backdate the marriage license so our parents wouldn't know. With things like they are right now, I don't see why you and Christy should have to be married. She's living with you right now. If things get back to normal, you can get married then. In the meantime, you can give Christy her legacy. Your legacy too."

Well, I never thought I'd hear anything like that from my mother, but the more I thought about it, she was right. I'd read somewhere that if the electricity was out for a year, most of the people in the metropolitan areas would die either from lack of food or because of disease or riots. Anybody who was left would be the ones to repopulate the U S, and they'd most likely be in the rural areas of the country. The problem was I didn't know how to ask Christy how she felt. She might think I was telling her she had to have sex with me in order to stay with us.

Mom solved that problem by asking Christy for me, though I didn't know it until Christy came out of the bunker one day while I was listening for anything on the radio. She sat down beside me and didn't say anything for a while. Then, she reached over and touched me on the arm.

"Ted, your mother asked me a funny question this morning. She asked me if I'd ever thought about having kids. I told her I wanted at least two, but that probably wasn't going to happen now. She said it could happen if I wanted it to happen. I think she was talking about you and me."

I nodded.

"She was. She had about the same conversation with me a couple days ago. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to make you think you had to do that to stay here. You don't need to worry about that, by the way. I'd never turn you out."

"That's what your mother told me too. Sometimes I wonder about what will happen in the future though. Do you think they'll get things fixed and life will get back to normal? What will we do if it doesn't?

I stopped tuning the radio and turned to Christy.

"I don't want to scare you, but we've been here for almost four months and it doesn't look to me like anything's changed. I haven't seen a light anywhere since that day, and I haven't seen anyone since that day you jumped in my truck. If there was a quick fix, the power companies would have already done it and they'd be back on line by now.

"I think the equipment damage must have been pretty extensive, and the problem is a lot of the equipment that keeps the grid running isn't sitting somewhere on the shelf. It'll have to be made from scratch somewhere where the electricity is still on because most of the manufacturing process is computer controlled. Even if the equipment does exist somewhere, that would only let a tiny little part of the grid start back up. It took almost a hundred years to get the grid to the state it was before. Getting the entire grid working again could take almost that long.

"I don't know when or if things will ever be what we used to call normal. What I do know is that if nothing changes, we'll find a way to survive here, all three of us. I don't know what that way is yet, but we'll find it."

Christy surprised me with her next statement.

"If we're going to live together for a long time, wouldn't it be natural for us to really live together? I mean, I like you and I think you like me. We seem to work together pretty well. I got married the first time based on less."

I put down the radio.

"Are you saying we should start living like man and wife?"

Christy grinned.

"Unless you don't want me."

Christy s Initiative.

That night, Mom went to bed but Christy stayed up until I'd banked the fire in the stove and started turning off the lights. When I asked her why she was still awake, she just smiled.

"I thought maybe tonight would be our first night together. If you don't want that, I'll go sleep with your mother, but if you do?"

Christy pulled the sweater over her head and tossed it on the table. Evidently Mom's bras were too big for Christy because she wasn't wearing one. Her breasts weren't as small as I'd thought, probably because she hadn't been holding them up with anything.

I hadn't said anything yet, so Christy looked up at me and smiled.

"You better tell me now so I can get under the blankets and not freeze."

I was pretty stunned by what she'd done, so I couldn't talk. Christy grinned again.

"I guess you don't know yet, so maybe this will convince you."

With that, she pulled down the pants she was wearing and I saw that apparently Mom's panties didn't fit Christy either. I also saw that Christy hadn't shaved since I brought her to the bunker. The pale blonde hair on her arm pits, mound and legs was hard to see, but it was there.

Christy kicked off her shoes and then walked over to the fold out couch, pulled back the blankets, and climbed in. She looked up then and held out her arms.

"Don't make me wait too long or I'll fall asleep."

That first time with Christy was an experience I will never forget. When I took off my clothes and slipped under the blankets, she snuggled up to me and hooked one leg over mine.

"Umm", she murmured. "This is a lot nicer than sleeping with your mother. I couldn't snuggle with her."

I had to admit that it wasn't just nice, it was great. I was feeling Christy's soft breasts against my side and her smooth inner thigh was lightly touching my cock. She felt it start to rise and ran her hand down my belly until she was holding it.

Then she giggled. "You don't know how many times I've thought about this, about what it would be like. I think I'm going to like it a lot."

That night was probably typical of any newlywed couple's first night. It was more exploration and learning than anything else. Christy surprised me by being more active than the other two partners I'd had.

She didn't take charge or anything like that. She let me set the pace, but she wasn't backward either. When I stroked her breasts, she sighed and wiggled close enough I felt the hair on her mound against my leg. When I lightly stroked her nipples, they stiffened and she reached for my cock again.

When Christy started rubbing her mound against my leg, I slipped one hand down between us until I felt hair, then gently moved it down until I felt the separation of her lips. Christy opened her thighs then, and moaned when I slipped a fingertip between her soft lips. After the moan, she whispered, "Kiss me, Ted".

When I did, for a second I felt her lips against mine, but then I felt her tongue trying to slip between my teeth. She moaned again when our tongues met, and I felt her push herself into the finger stroking between her thighs. When that caused my finger to slip down to her entrance, Christy caught her breath and gave my cock a few more strokes.

She was wetter than I had expected when I slowly slipped that finger inside her. When I pulled it back out, I stroked up to the little button at the top of her lips. When I gently rubbed the tip, Christy broke our kiss and whispered, "I think I'm ready".

She didn't roll over and spread her legs. Instead, she gently guided my cock down as she wiggled up a little further, pushed it up and down between her lips a little, and then positioned my cock head at her entrance. She pushed her body toward my cock at the same time I pushed toward her. When my cock slipped inside her a little, Christy moaned and pushed harder.

She wasn't wet enough that my cock went home on that first try, so I eased back out almost all the way and then pushed in again. My cock slipped through the tight spot just inside her and Christy caught her breath. I pulled out, then pushed back in again, and this time, kept pushing until I felt hair around the base of my cock. Christy put her hand on my ass and held me there for a few seconds, then eased away.

That's how it went for a while. Christy met my strokes and rocked herself into me at the end of every stroke. If I kissed the nipple I could reach, she'd gasp and push a little harder. When I managed to suck that nipple into my mouth, Christy murmured, "Oh God, I forgot what that does to me."

I'd forgotten what it feels like to have my cock buried inside a very willing woman as well. It was either that or I'd never been with a woman as willing as Christy. I knew I'd never been with a woman who was as actively engaged or who was getting to her peak so fast. I was getting there really fast too. It had been so long that all that desire had built up until it was about to explode.

Christy got there first. I was slowly stroking away when she gasped, then held her breath, and started rocking herself over my cock. That put me in a position where I couldn't hold back anymore. I groaned when Christy cried out and started to shake as the first spasm raced through her. Seed flew out the tip of my cock and deep inside her. I pulled back out a little, but Christy held my hip and gasped as another wave shook her.

That happened twice more before I was laying there and panting and felt my cock being squeezed inside Christy's writhing body as little contractions kept making her jerk. Even when she calmed down, she didn't pull away. She held me tight inside her, kissed me sensuously, and then whispered, "I think this is going to work out just fine."

I can't honestly say when I fell asleep or if Christy moved off me after I did. When I woke up the next morning, she was in the same position, one leg over me, and with her breasts against my side. When I opened my eyes, I saw she was awake.

Christy fluttered her eyelashes at me and grinned.

"Your mom will be up pretty soon, so we probably shouldn't start anything, but I wish we could."

She kissed me then, just a soft kiss, and then got up and dressed. By the time Mom came out, Christy had the stove warmed up and the coffeepot was percolating. Mom looked at me, winked, and then smiled. She knew what we'd done, and she was happy about it.

Mated.

Our lives changed after that day. Christy and I got closer every day. It wasn't the sex, though that was fantastic. It was because I let myself see her as a woman I was starting to love instead of just a woman I'd accidentally rescued from some serious trouble. I guess it was what I overheard my grandma once say - that in her day, people got married to share the work and have children and that love came later.

We didn't make love every night. It depended upon what we did during the day. If Christy and Mom were doing the laundry or if I was splitting more firewood, we were usually pretty tired and just went to sleep. Whether we made love or not, I was starting to realize I could never let Christy go.

By May, I started thinking about our food supply again. We were still doing all right, thanks to the beef I'd killed, but what we really needed was some fresh vegetables. Christy had insisted we take a vitamin C and vitamin D tablet every day, but she said fresh vegetables and fruit would be better. I remembered that Mom had always had a garden and that's what we needed now. When I told her about my seeds, Mom agreed.

"If you can dig up a garden, we can raise enough vegetables to see us through the next winter. I used to can a lot of what I raised in my garden. I can't bottle anything here, but I used to dry tomatoes outside in the sun. We could try drying things like green beans and peppers. Things like beets and carrots and squash will keep all winter if you keep them cool.

May was too early to start a garden, but the weather was getting warm enough for another idea that had been filling my mind. I wanted to go back to Rapid City to see what was going on. I didn't intend to take any risks. I was just curious about how many people were still alive and what they were doing. If I had a chance, I'd check some grocery stores to see if anything was left.

Christy also liked the idea.

"I'd like to see if I can get into my apartment and get some of my clothes and other things. If you think it's too dangerous, I won't push the idea, but it would be nice to have clothes that fit."

I had no idea what we might find in Rapid City, so I was against taking Christy with me. She argued that she could take care of herself as well as I could. When I asked her how she'd manage to do that since she hadn't that day at Fairlawn, she shrugged.

"I didn't have any way to fight back that day except to run. My grandpa taught me to shoot a rifle and a pistol, so give me one of yours. Besides, if you should get hurt, how will you take care of yourself? I'm a nurse, remember? I can do that."

I did make Christy prove to me that she knew how to handle a firearm, and she did just fine with my Sig and with my pump shotgun. I spent some time on my battery-charging rig charging up my truck battery, and when I got done, my truck started. A day later, we put my bug-out bag in my pickup and after making sure Mom locked up everything, Christy and I drove to Rapid City.

Itinerary.

We decided to go to Christy's apartment first since we could get her clothes and anything else she wanted pretty fast. After that, we'd go to a couple grocery stores that were on the outskirts of town. I didn't want to go anywhere near Ellsworth or the city proper. Everything I'd read said if there was a problem the major population centers were where that problem would be.

I wasn't really surprised that we didn't see any vehicles on the road or even people walking. What I'd read was that by now, five months after the power went out, most people would either be dead or had moved to someplace where there was food and shelter. My guess was the U S government had set up Ellsworth as a refugee center and that's where most of the people would be.

They apparently weren't all there, though. When we started walking up to Christy's apartment, I heard a gunshot and the dirt off to my left splattered onto my pants and jacket. The voice that came from somewhere in the building sounded both scared and angry.

"Just turn around and go back to wherever the hell you came from. If you don't, I'll shoot you both dead before you take another step."

That's exactly what I'd have done if Christy hadn't yelled back, "Colonel Mike, it's Christy, Christy Boxer. Remember me? I lived in one-ten. I just want to get some things from my apartment and then we'll be gone."

Christy turned to me then.

"He's the man who owns the apartment building.

Prepper Partners: Part 2

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Thu, 18 Jun 2026 12:36:00 +0000

Prepper Partners: Part 2

Loading Up for Mayhem.

By ronde, in 3 parts. Listen to the ► podcast at Connected.

One thing that nagged at me was what I'd do in a medical emergency, like if I cut myself chopping firewood or fell down and broke my arm or leg. The first aid kit in my bug-out bag wouldn't do anything for either of those situations. I did a lot of reading and finally bought what would probably be in any combat medic's kit. I couldn't do surgery, but I had enough to splint a broken limb, stop severe bleeding, and sew up a bad cut.

Every week, I stopped by the local liquor store and bought a bottle each of reasonably good scotch, bourbon, vodka, and rum. My logic for that much alcohol was it's a good mild anesthetic and all the experts said it would be good trading material if money became worthless. I figured the extra hundred dollars a week that cost me was just good preparation, and I could always drink it or give it away if things got back to normal.

Another piece of advice I learned from one book was the saying, "Two is one and one is none." What that means is if you have only one of something, like say, an axe, if it breaks you have none. If you have two or more, you'll at least have one that's usable while you're fixing the other. When I was buying tools, I made sure I had duplicates of anything that I thought would be vital to my survival.

The last thing to go into my storage space was more of an impulse buy than anything else. I was browsing through the gardening department of a local big box store that September and looking for what they'd put on sale when I passed a display of garden seeds. They were marked down by half. I'd been reading that having a garden is a must for long-term survival. Like Jeff had said about the guy in Montana, I had no idea what might happen, but being prepared was better than not being prepared. I searched through the seed packets looking for "heirloom" varieties because they'll reproduce true from seed year after year. I bought enough to plant a huge garden and hoped I'd never need to.

It was surprising how little money I really spent and how much food and other stuff that money bought. Once I had a year's supply, I looked at it and it didn't seem very big so I just kept buying food and supplies like I had before. By the summer after my bunker was built and furnished, I figured I had enough food and other supplies to last me about five years if I didn't hunt and fish and I'd spent a total of about fifteen grand.

That was less than two months of my salary, and if I hadn't spent it, it would have just sat in my bank. I figured having the stuff more than made up for the loss of interest my bank would have paid me. A lot of articles I read said in a lot of SHTF situations, money wouldn't be worth anything anyway.

Prepper Drills.

Once I started stocking my bunker, I started making the drive out there on Friday night after work and staying until Sunday about noon. That gave me a chance to practice using the stove, food, and lighting to see if I needed to change anything. I did miss having a TV at first, but a good selection of books were almost as good and I didn't have to watch any dumb commercials. If I got tired of reading, I could go outside and listen to music, news, and even some people on short wave on my hand-cranked radio.

What I found is that living in my bunker wasn't all that bad. I learned how to cook on my little wood stove and how to make my beans and rice taste good. I even figured out how to make cornbread in the little oven. That all worked out really well up until the twenty-eighth of December of the next year.

White-out.

When I woke up, it was snowing up a storm, but I had to go to the base. There was a software upgrade to one of our simulators that absolutely couldn't wait until after New Year's Day. It took me an hour to drive the twenty miles.

I was making pretty good progress on the upgrade when about ten in the morning all the lights in the building went out. The emergency lights came on when the emergency generators started, so I figured for some reason one of the main circuit breakers in the building had tripped. Sometimes one would trip for no apparent reason, and resetting it fixed the problem.

When I went to the power house in the building to see, they were all fine. The meters on the main switchgear were all dark though, and that told me there was no power coming into the building. That meant it was probably a circuit breaker at the base substation, but when I went outside, there were people coming out of all the other buildings as well. It looked as if the whole base had lost power.

That couldn't happen, or at least it wasn't supposed to happen. The base was connected directly to the grid and the base substation and lines that serve it were supposed to be hardened against about any natural disaster. There was no natural disaster taking place, so at least a major part of the electrical grid must have gone down.

I was rapidly getting a funny feeling in my gut, because there were only three reasons I could think of that would cause a major part of the electrical grid to go down.

One was a nuclear device detonated high in the atmosphere. That would cause a massive EMP that could take the control systems at almost all the generating plants and distribution stations off-line. It would also disable most communication systems, including communications satellites and their ground-based relay stations. At least some of the military communications equipment on the ground, in the air, and at sea would survive, but without the satellites, they would be useless.

Protecting against EMP was expensive and troublesome to work with because it entailed enclosing all equipment in a wire cage that was grounded to the earth. That's why most protection was done by the military. They could afford it.

Power companies and factories couldn't afford to protect the huge substations they had without government money, and the cost to do so was astronomical. So far, Congress hadn't seen fit to provide that money because doing so would have meant cutting back on the social programs most politicians used to keep getting themselves elected.

Another was a solar flare big enough to do the same thing, but NASA would have figured out that it was going to happen and sent out a warning days before it was to hit the earth. They hadn't.

The other was a terrorist attack, either physical or cyber that did the same thing. All it takes to effectively kill the U S electrical grid is to shut down ten major distribution substations. We know that because of studies that were done by Homeland Security after 9 11. Terrorists may be a lot of things, but they keep proving they're not stupid. It wasn't crazy to think at least one group knew what ten substations would kill the grid and had a plan to take them out when they were ready.

Even if something or someone didn't manage to take out all ten, once part of the grid was down, operators would try to shift the load to another part. This would quickly overload the grid in that area and operators would shut it down in an attempt to keep from damaging their equipment. It would be a chain-reaction of shut-downs until the whole grid lost power.

It really didn't matter why the grid went down. Whatever the cause, it might take a long time to get it back up again. Any damaged hardware would have to be replaced and a lot of that equipment is not on the shelf someplace. It's made to order and delivery times are months to over a year. If there was no power, there would be no way to make replacements. Even if there were replacements available, they'd have to be installed and then the grid brought back on-line in a very controlled manner to prevent phase mismatch and overloads.

Doing that was sort of a "Catch 22" scenario. Some of the electricity generated by a power station is used to run the control systems for that station. Without some source of power, even if everything was repaired, they'd have to get electricity from somewhere in order to fire up the generating plant. The plan for most of the generating plants on the grid was either one special generating plant or diesel-powered generators mounted on trucks. An EMP pulse big enough to take out the grid would also take out the control systems for those special generating plants and truck mounted generators. A terrorist attack would surely have included those special generating plants and at least some of the standby generators.

Taking Action.

I left everything where it was and got in my truck. The fact that my truck started pretty much eliminated an EMP event as the cause of the black-out. Any electronic device would be affected by EMP, and the computer controls in cars and trucks would be among the first to go unless they weren't older than a couple years. My truck was five years old.

My first stop was my apartment. I put all my clothes in plastic garbage bags, filled a plastic storage box with all my pots and pans and kitchen stuff that didn't need electricity, and filled another plastic storage box with my books and magazines about survival and engineering. After I hauled all that out the door and dumped it in the bed of my truck, I took a last look around for anything I'd missed that I might need. All I picked up was a picture of me, Mom, and Dad in front of the old farmhouse on the farm taken when I graduated from high school. I didn't need it, but I wanted it.

My second stop was the assisted living home where my mother was staying. I wasn't about to leave her there with no guarantee that she'd be safe. I tried the local radio stations, both AM and FM on the way. They were broadcasting with generator power and confirmed the blackout was across at least the entire state, but had no explanation for what happened.

As I drove into the drive of Fairlawn Retirement Community, the newsperson said they had unverified information that the entire U S electrical grid was down. Cell phone towers would continue to work until their battery backups failed, so law enforcement was still monitoring the 911 system and responding as quickly as they could.

It might take weeks to find out what really happened if we ever could. With no electricity, it would be impossible to check any servers for any unauthorized entry of any computer control system for manipulation of the control parameters. Since nobody seemed to know the cause, I was putting my money on a cyber attack on the U S electrical grid, and probably the attack had been aimed at damaging as much equipment as possible.

With no electricity, Fairlawn's intercom system didn't work so I had to pound on the door for a while before one of the nurses came to the door. Thankfully, she recognized me and let me in. When I found Mom's room, I didn't give her a chance to tell me no. I just grabbed all the clothes in her closet and told her we were leaving. All she said was she needed some underwear and shoes too, so I waited until she stuffed them in a suitcase. I wouldn't have let the nurses stop me from taking Mom out if they'd tried, but they were too busy trying to make sure everybody was in their rooms.

From there, I drove to my bunker and parked my pickup beside the hatch, then helped Mom down the stairs and inside. After a couple trips back to my truck to get her clothes and my other stuff, I parked the truck behind some trees, went to the bunker, and locked the door behind me.

Mom was pretty shaken up.

"Teddy, what happened and why did you drag me out of Fairlawn? The electricity has gone out before. It always comes back on in a day or two at most. At least at Fairlawn I'd have been warm. It's like a refrigerator in here."

As I built a fire in the stove, I tried to explain what I thought had happened and why I wanted her here with me.

"Mom, you heard the radio. It's not just this area or even just South Dakota. It's the whole U S. My best guess is somebody hacked into the U S electrical grid and shut it down. The grid and other businesses have been hacked before, just not on this large a scale. There was even a nuclear power plant in Kansas that was hacked in 2017. It's also happened in South Korea, India, and Germany. In the Kansas plant, the FBI said it looked like the hackers were mapping the computer systems in preparation for another attack. I think this was that attack.

"If the whole grid is down like they're saying, the U S will basically come to a screeching halt, because nothing will work. Factories won't be able to make anything, including food. Trucking companies won't be able to dispatch trucks or re-fuel them. Warehouses won't know what inventory they have or where it is. You won't even be able to pay for something a store has and you need because the cash registers won't work.

"What that means is people who need food will be breaking into anyplace that has food. Other people will be waiting to take that food from them. People who are cold will be trying to find someplace with heat that still works and they'll break in if they have to."

I put my hand on her shoulder so she'd know I was serious.

"Mom, I really, really hope I'm overreacting, but what I'm talking about is riots in the streets and nobody there will be safe. Here, I have enough food to keep us going for at least a couple years, I can keep you warm, and nobody can break in here. That's why I dragged you out of Fairlawn. Please don't be mad at me."

Mom looked up and smiled.

"I'm not mad at you Ted. Your dad would have done the same thing in this situation. He'd be proud that you did.

"So, what do you do down here for entertainment? I guess I won't be playing Hearts with the girls for at least a while."

Settling In.

I gave Mom the bedroom and I slept on the fold-out couch. After I cooked a couple of meals, Mom laughed and said she hadn't done a very good job in teaching me. I had to admit her meals were a lot better than mine. At night, we'd read or just talk. We hadn't just talked for a long time.

I guess that's what happens when your parents are close enough you see them a lot. You tend to talk about the small stuff instead of what's really important. I found out more about Mom and Dad and their relationship than I'd ever even suspected.

I'd always thought Mom was a prim and proper housewife who lived for her husband and me. Well, she was that, but apparently not before I was born. She was waiting tables in a bar when Dad and a couple of his friends walked in and sat down at one of her tables. Dad took one look at her and said, "Honey, what time do you get off?"

Mom laughed then and said he only looked at her because she was only half dressed at the time.

"I knew guys liked to see boobs and long legs and I had both so I dressed to show them off. They got me a lot of tips. They also got me your Dad, though I didn't know it at the time. He said he had a little ranch and he'd teach me to ride a horse if I'd come out. Well, I did, and he did teach me. I moved in with him two months later, just to try things out. After another three months, we decided we fit together pretty good, so we got married."

Apparently, their first years had been a struggle. Cattle prices were down so Dad went to work at a sawmill so they'd have enough money to eat. Mom told me some of the ways she stretched the food budget, ways I hadn't thought of but proved to be useful as time went on.

Every day for the first week, I'd crank up my radio and go outside to see if anything had changed. The only thing that had changed was the radio stations had evidently used up their generator fuel supply because none of them were broadcasting. I did tune in a couple of ham radio operators every day. They didn't know anything more than I did, but they confirmed the entire U S was affected as well as at least some of the European Union. They were able to transmit only because they had solar panel arrays and battery packs.

I also watched the sky in the direction of the base. In addition to housing the 28th Bomb Wing, Ellsworth AFB was a training center for B 1 B bomber crews. All training flights had been cancelled for the holidays, but now that it was January, there should have been at least one or two flights a day. I didn't see anything in the sky except two turkey vultures and one bald eagle. If the training flights weren't taking place, the base wasn't up and running, and that probably meant nothing else was either.

At night, I noticed another thing. My bunker was about twenty miles from Rapid City, but on the nights I'd stayed there, I could see the lights of the city reflected by any clouds in the sky. I hadn't seen that since the power went out, so Rapid City and Ellsworth were still in the dark. I decided I needed to find out for sure.

It was a Tuesday morning, if I remember right, when I told Mom what I was going to do.

"I'm going to drive over to the base and see what's going on. Don't worry. I'm not going to take any chances. I'm just going to drive close enough to the main gate to see if anybody's going in or out. If things look OK, I'll take you back to Fairlawn. If not, well, at least we'll know.

"Now, I showed you how to lock the deadbolts on the door. Lock them all when I leave. When I come back, I'll tap on the door three times, wait for two seconds, and then tap two more times. If you don't hear that, don't open the door."

I strapped the 3 57 Mag on my belt and left. When I was outside, I waited until I heard each bolt slide. Ten minutes later I was on the county road and headed toward Ellsworth.

National Emergency.

I got within a block of the main gate at Ellsworth and it was worse than I thought it might be. Before, the main gate was always open and guarded by two guards with M-4 rifles from the 28th Security Squadron. If you had a sticker on your windshield, they'd salute you as you drove through. If you didn't they'd stop you and ask why you wanted on base. If your name was on the access list for the day, they let you through. If it wasn't they'd ask for the name of the person you were going to contact. They'd phone that person and ask if you had a legitimate appointment. If you did, they'd apologize for the inconvenience and let you through. If not, they'd respectfully tell you they couldn't let you on base and show you where you could turn around.

That day, I counted ten guards with M-4's, three standing in front of the closed gate and the rest behind sandbags on each side of the entrance drive. When I looked closer, there was a machine gun with crew on each side as well.

I didn't try to drive in. I'd seen enough to know that Ellsworth was in a maximum security scenario. Instead, I turned down the street before the gate and then drove to Fairlawn because I knew Mom would want to know if everything was all right there. Along the way I passed several gas stations and stores that were all closed. A couple of the grocery stores had plywood screwed over the windows.

Because of that, I decided not to tell Mom about Fairlawn. I'd just tell her I drove past the building and didn't see anybody going in or coming out, but that the building looked all right. That was my plan until I got there.

I was only doing maybe five miles an hour so I could look around without running into anything or anybody. Just when I passed the open front door to the building, some people ran out and they weren't just jogging. There was a woman in the front of the pack of six or so, and it looked like she was r

Prepper Partners: Part 1

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Wed, 17 Jun 2026 12:35:00 +0000

Prepper Partners: Part 1

It couldn't happen but it did. Now, we have to survive.

By ronde, in 3 parts. Listen to the ► podcast at Connected.

I thought I was ready when the time to be ready arrived. I wasn't. I was more ready than most people, but still not ready for what happened.

To this day, I don't know why it happened and apparently there's nobody left to explain it. It doesn't matter anymore anyway. What was is probably gone for a long, long time, and people like us have to pick up the pieces and get on with trying to live. I'm writing all this down in hopes that if and when things do get back to normal a lot of people will read it and do what all people should have done before.

I started getting ready as more of a hobby than actually preparing for when the shit hits the fan", or "SHTF" as the survivalists called it. There were many scenarios that would cause SHTF, none of which I thought would ever happen. The leading scenarios were about the world, or at least the U S, going from normal to crisis to lawlessness in a matter of weeks or even days in some cases. You had your:

1.      "the world economy is going to collapse" people, your

2.      "there will be another civil war" people, and your

3.      "another country will bomb and then invade the U S" people.

I tended to discount these for what, to me at least, were logical reasons.

While the economy had gone belly up at least a couple times, the world didn't descend into chaos. Even though in at least some cases it took years to do so, governments managed to work through the depression and come out healthy.

Another American civil war would just be stupid. Civil wars have never worked out well. The group with the most resources always wins, and they usually aren't very nice to the losers. After most modern civil wars, the leaders on the losing side end up being executed for treason or some other offense. Why would any sane person even think about starting a civil war unless they were absolutely confident they could win?

While I supposed it was possible that some other country could launch nukes at the U S, the result would be their own destruction as well. It was also possible some country could load up a million or so soldiers and ship them across the Pacific or the Atlantic with the intention of attacking the big cities on the East or West coast, but it's very probable they wouldn't make it. That many ships or planes would be spotted long before they posed any real danger and the U S Air Force and Navy would end the threat before it got started.

Right behind these were "artificial intelligence will take over and eliminate the human race" and a global pandemic that kills most of the human population of the world.

While these made some decent novels and movies, they weren't all that realistic. I mean, artificial intelligence isn't really all that smart. AI can rapidly review data from a multitude of sources, develop conclusions from that data based upon its programmed algorithms, and then take or recommend actions based upon those conclusions and again, its programmed algorithms. It can further examine those actions and determine if they were correct and modify its logical process as needed.

At the time it happened, I was a civilian electro-mechanical engineer working on B 1 B flight simulators at Ellsworth AFB and my job required a thorough and current knowledge of that sort of thing because I was writing it into my machine control programs. Everything I'd read told me even the best artificial intelligence is really good at adapting its programming to different conditions and reporting any conclusions in appropriate language, but in reality is maybe actually as smart as a five-year old. Though the data set used can be enormous, any autonomous decisions are made just as a five-year old would make them -- by trial and error.

A self-driving car can learn where it is and where it needs to go, but it you want to transfer its "brain" to an aircraft or a robot, that requires a software change and a human has to do that. Artificial Intelligence can read most current languages spoken in the world and can be taught the phonetics to speak them correctly. It can also be taught to generate art, prose and poetry when given appropriate parameters. It can't just one day decide to become a best selling author or poet and start writing, or begin painting scenes that it visualizes on its own. It needs a human to ask it to do something or to tell it what to do. Yes, there can be some unforeseen consequences, but when all else fails, a human can always "pull the plug" and stop the computer.

A global pandemic was possible, but even in the worst pandemics like the plague and Spanish Flu, enough people survived to keep society going. Yes, the disease slowed civilization down, but civilization didn't die.

There were several other causes like natural disasters such as tornadoes, earthquakes, hurricanes, blizzards and forest fires that could likely happen and cause significant stress on society. The more I thought about those causes, the more sense it made to do some preparation. It wouldn't hurt and if something did happen, I'd be prepared.

It was also a way to get back to quasi-reality from my job. Back then, I spent all my work days immersed in tuning the interactions between computer code and hydraulic servo valves and the response time of hydraulic systems, and I needed something a lot less complex to decompress on the weekends.

Location?

I started reading about what I would need and decided my best bet was to have a month's supply of food in my apartment and a shotgun for self-defense. The extra food was easily affordable since I wasn't married, lived in a two-room apartment, and worked too many hours to actually spend much of my income on anything else. I still had the single-shot shotgun I got as a kid so I could hunt rabbits, squirrels and pheasants on my dad's farm. I still did that when I had the time.

I stored a month's supply of canned and dried food in my bedroom and bought three boxes of buckshot to go with the box of bird shot I already had. I was all set; until I read some more and watched some videos.

One article I read asked the question, "What will you do if you're away from home when the shit hits the fan?" The answer was something called a "get-home bag" and was a small backpack filled with enough to get me from my office to home if there was trouble in the city or on the road.

I bought a small backpack and stuffed it with protein bars, six bottles of water, and a first-aid kit. Also in that backpack was a coffee can with a candle and a disposable lighter, but I'd always had those in my car. If you're stuck alongside the road in a heavy snow like we sometimes get during the South Dakota winters, it's nice to have a heat source so you don't freeze to death before the wrecker gets there. I was all set, until I read some more and watched more videos.

The opinion of all the experts on the internet was you should prepare to weather a crisis at home. That's where your food supply would be and you'd be familiar with the area, but the next question was, "What if you can't get to your home or if your home isn't there or if it isn't safe to go to your home?" The answer, actually three answers, were a "bug-out bag", a place to "bug-out" to, and to never let my gas tank get lower than three-quarters of a tank so I'd have the gas to "bug-out". I think that was when my hobby became sort of an obsession. Looking back now, I wish it had become an obsession a lot sooner.

Keeping my gas tank filled was something I already did during the winter. It's not unusual in my area of South Dakota to have a heavy snow that will cause traffic to back up for hours. Having a candle in a coffee can will keep you from freezing to death, but a full tank of gas and a car heater will keep you comfortable.

The bug-out bag was easy. It was just a scaled up version of my get-home bag. It was a bigger backpack filled with food for three days and water for a week. Since I might need to make a fire to cook and keep warm, I included a hunting knife, a hatchet, two disposable lighters, and a ferrocerium rod and striker in a metal box full of charred cotton cloth in case the lighters died. If I got wet or just needed some more layers, I had an extra set of clothing, and in case something happened to the clothing, a sewing kit.

According to everything I red, it might be that I'd have to fight my way out of something, and to do that, I bought a bigger first-aid kit in case I got hurt and had to fix myself up. Stuck in a pocket in the flap was an unloaded Sig P365 nine-millimeter semi-automatic pistol with a hundred rounds of ammo to keep me from getting hurt. Carrying the pistol required me to get a state carry permit, but that was easy. After three visits to a gun range to practice, I spent one Saturday taking a class and then took my application and check for the fee to the local sheriff's office. A month later, I had my South Dakota carry permit in my wallet.

The place to bug-out to was harder. The articles I read said the place should be pretty isolated because looters would be roaming the countryside looking to take what they didn't have from people like me who did. Since I lived in an apartment, I'd probably at least have my neighbors begging from me. Montana seemed to be the favored location, but Montana was a five-hour drive from Box Elder, South Dakota where I had my apartment. Besides, I didn't have enough money to buy even a small place in Montana.

Dad's farm was closer. The six hundred acres where he'd run some cattle and raised hay wasn't exactly out in the middle of nowhere, but it was a little over twenty miles from the nearest city, that being Rapid City. I figured I'd just build a hideaway cabin to use for hunting and fishing the small river that ran through it. I did both there every year anyway, and with a small cabin, I could stay over a weekend instead of driving back and forth. If I needed it to bug-out, it would be there.

I still call the place Dad's farm, but it's essentially mine. He willed it to my mother when he passed and her will states that it will go to me when she passes. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with it when that happened because the inheritance taxes would be huge, but I liked hunting and fishing there, so I was playing "wait and see". The land would never drop in value.

I was paying the taxes on the place because Mom couldn't afford to. I didn't want to continue to pay property taxes on the old house and outbuildings, so I had them torn down. Then I rented the place to a local cattle breeder. His cattle and the small herd of horses he ran there kept the old pastures and fields cropped down and the rent paid the remaining property taxes every year with a little left over to go toward the taxes I'd eventually pay.

Provisions.

Once I'd decided to build a bug-out place, I started reading and watching videos about what I needed to build. I found people who recommended just a small log cabin, people who built what would have been called a "fall-out shelter" in the 1950's, people who built basically a full sized and equipped house, and everything in between.

I wasn't all that thrilled about a log cabin after I read more about the ones you can buy. They would be hard to heat in our frigid South Dakota winters and were pretty expensive since they were intended to be full-time residences. I thought about cutting some of the pine trees on the place and building a cabin myself, but that seemed like a ton of work that would take me a year of weekends to finish. I decided a log cabin was a bad idea.

I saw some ads about pre-manufactured shelters that could be installed in a week or so by the manufacturer. I thought that would work out pretty well. I could buy just the steel box and then fit it out however I wanted. They were all underground, so I'd have the benefit of some natural insulation when it was time to heat it. There was only one hitch. I could have bought a three bedroom house in Box Elder for what one would have cost me to buy and install. I decided that was a bad idea too.

As I kept reading and watching videos, I discovered there were some ideas about building a bug-out place that seemed to conflict. The main one had to do with the need to keep your bug-out place a secret. If you didn't and some emergency happened, everybody who hadn't prepped would come knocking on your door for food, shelter and safety.

For this reason, I figured running electricity to whatever I built, like a lot of people did, was stupid. I could live without electricity, and overhead power lines running out through the middle of a farm field would be like a road sign saying, "This way for free food." The other problem with electricity is electricity has a tendency to stop if there are high winds or sleet. It wouldn't do any good to have the wiring if there was nothing in the wires.

Another thing I thought was pretty short-sighted were the people who said they were prepared to live off the land. I'd hunted and fished for most of my life, and my experience had taught me two things. If you depend upon hunting, fishing, and foraging for food, you'll probably starve to death. I'd spent a lot of long days in the woods without ever seeing so much as a rabbit let alone a deer. It's the same with fishing. Some days, you catch several fish. Other days, all you get is a sunburn and some mosquito bites.

Foraging for plants is interesting and fun and I'd done it as a Boy Scout, but if that's your only food source, it won't take long to pick all the edible plants in your immediate area. Then you'll have to move to find more and that means giving up the security you spent all that money to build.

I figured I needed a place big enough to store a lot of non-perishable food and enough other stuff so I could fend for myself for at least a year. That didn't mean I wouldn't hunt and fish. It just meant I wouldn't go hungry when the deer, rabbits, or fish didn't cooperate.

I liked the idea of an underground bunker for several reasons. If it was underground, I'd get the benefit of the natural insulation of the soil, and at least from a distance, nobody could tell there was a bunker there. Concrete seemed a better alternative than steel. All the ammo bunkers on the base were poured concrete and they'd been there since World War 2.

I thought I knew what I wanted, but I didn't know how to get it built. I figured the cost wouldn't be a problem because it would be just a concrete box with a concrete lid. The problem was who could I trust to build it and not tell anybody else where it was?

That Christmas, I went to the assisted living home in Rapid City where my mother was living to take her a Christmas gift. I told her I was going to build some sort of cabin on the farm so I'd have a place to stay when I went hunting or fishing. Bless her heart, she gave me the answer I'd been looking for.

"Remember Jeff Hayes from high school? His mother lives here and we talk all the time. He owns a construction company now, and she said he did the same thing except he built his under the ground. I don't think I'd like living underground, but she saw it and said it's really nice, considering. You ought to go talk to him and find out how he did it."

I did remember Jeff. He and I had hunted and fished together a lot when we were in high school. We sort of drifted apart when I went to college and he enlisted in the Army. When he got out of the Army, he went to a trade school. We were just different that way. He was very practical and I tended more toward the theoretical.

Army Buddy.

Jeff grinned when I walked into the building where his office was located.

"Well I'll be damned. Ted Jackson. Figured you'd forgotten all about Lakeview High and everybody you went to school with."

I smiled.

"No, I've just been really busy. I was visiting my mother and she said I should come talk to you about a project I have in mind."

I told Jeff what I'd been thinking about and asked what he would recommend and why that would be better than what I'd already read and seen in videos. He smiled.

"When I was in Iraq, I talked to a guy from Montana whose dad had been getting ready for the big one for years. He didn't know what the big one was gonna be, so he tried to cover all the bases. I learned a lot from listening to what his dad built.

"When I came back, I took a look at how politics and the economy were going and decided maybe he was right. Like you, I read a lot of books and watched a lot of videos, but I had my military training and combat experience too. A lot of those books and videos didn't make any sense.

"I thought about it for a year before I built what I built. I ain't saying it's perfect, but it's good enough. I'm not sure I want to be around if something happens that it isn't good enough for anyway."

My question was what did Jeff build and how did he build it without a bunch of people knowing. He just smiled again.

"I own a construction company, so I have the equipment and skills to build about anything. I also have two guys on my crew who think like I do, and the local ready-mix plant owner and a couple of his crew do too. We got together and each of us built basically the same thing on weekends. The six of us are the only ones who know where and what we have, and we aren't going to tell anybody else. Since we go way back, I'll make an exception in your case. You got any idea about what you want?"

When I said other than what I'd already told him I wasn't sure, Jeff opened a drawer in his desk and took out a set of plans. The first page said "Plans for a 1,200 square foot Ranch With Partial Basement". Jeff flipped past the first two pages and then pushed the plans toward me.

"The rest of this is just so anybody finding our plans will think they're just for a house I built. The basement plan will show you what I built. Since I know you pretty good, if you'll swear to keep your mouth shut, I'll talk to the other guys about helping you build one. It would be good to know there's another of us in the area in case we somehow have to leave our own place.

Noah s Ark.

We couldn't start construction until May because the nighttime temperatures were still dropping below freezing and the ground hadn't yet thawed out. Once we started, it surprised me how quickly things went and how little it cost. In a month and a half of weekend work, I had my bunker. It was out in the middle of a pasture about a mile from the road and was invisible unless you got close enough to see the hatch sitting in the ground. I traded my car for a four-wheel drive pickup so I could get to it in about any kind of weather.

It's an underground bunker twelve feet wide and thirty feet long. It's all concrete with leak stoppers between the floor and walls and between the walls and

My Hero's Reward: Part 1

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Tue, 16 Jun 2026 18:17:00 +0000
<
My Hero's Reward: Part 1

One brave deed holds the key to unlocking a scarred heart.

In 3 parts, Based on a post by SDes. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Chicago Streets

Jeff walked out of the bar deep in thought. He would be thirty years old in just two weeks and had very little to show for it. There was a decent job, a string of short relationships and a lot of bills. He never thought his life would have turned out like this. He was smart, athletic and well educated. Although he wasn't every girl's dream, he was attractive by most standards and had his share of relationships with desirable women.

Unfortunately, none of the relationships had lasted more than a few months. At this point he was starting to worry that it was a trend without an end in sight. He considered himself a good guy and had always wanted a family. It was beginning to make him doubt himself and his future.

He was having a lousy Friday night. It was midnight and he was walking out of the bars alone; again. At least since it wasn't cloudy the moon lit up the streets and made it seem a little less depressing than it should have been. It all made him wonder if things would ever turn around.

As he turned the corner, he noticed the street was a little more deserted than usual. He attributed it to everyone still being in the bars having a good time, or on their way home to have a better one.

As he walked past the alley on the East side of the intersection, a noise attracted Jeff's attention. He peered into the darkness between the two buildings and his heart stopped. There was a young woman struggling with two men. They were dressed in jeans and torn shirts. Both wore the same color bandanas making Jeff suspect they were in a gang. It would have been normal for the neighborhood. The crime was getting worse in that section of the city and he wondered why the hell she was there alone at that time of night.

He was quiet as he tried to decide what the situation was before doing something stupid. From her struggles, he was almost certain this wasn't some kind of game. After a few moments, his eyes adjusted and he could see she was a petite brunette, about five feet tall, thin and well dressed. But what Jeff noticed most was that she was drop dead gorgeous.

Confident that this was a real attack, he pulled out his cell phone and stepped back away from the alley.

"911," a woman's voice answered. "Please state your emergency. "

"I'm on the corner of Superior and Wabash. There's a woman being attacked in the alley by a couple of thugs. Please hurry!"

"Sir, I have officers on the way. Please wait for them and don't get involved. "

A muffled scream put an end to that thought for Jeff. He cautiously glanced around the edge of the building and saw that the girl was being held from behind by one man as the other ripped her shirt. He reached a hand inside to cup one of her breasts and Jeff couldn't stop himself from walking toward them.

He set the phone down on a garbage can so the operator might be able to hear some of what was happening.

"Hey, what's going on?" he demanded.

The man in front of the girl whirled around to face him, "You need to mind your own business. We're all friends here. " The girl moaned through the hand the punk in back had put over her mouth.

Jeff quickly did the math on the situation. If neither man had a gun, he was confident he had a chance. The alley was wide enough for him to maneuver, giving him the room he'd need to deal with two men at once. He hoped for an element of surprise on his side, because he didn't appear to be an imposing opponent. At under six feet tall and about one hundred, eighty-five pounds, he wasn't going to frighten anyone based on his imposing image.

What they didn't know was the years of martial arts training he went through in his mid-twenties and the tournament fights he participated in. He wasn't overconfident; his teachers had thoroughly taught him the need to have the proper amount of respect for an adversary. Any fight can be lost if you slip, turn an ankle, miss a punch, or make any one of a hundred other mistakes that can happen in the heat of the moment. Also, he had to hope neither of the hoods was holding any surprises for him.

No matter what, Jeff couldn't let them hurt this girl. Her eyes pleaded with him for help and he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't try to protect her. When he refused to move, the man in front of her showed him the knife in his hand. His partner holding the girl nodded and said, "Take him. "

Jeff tried to appear unnerved, hoping he could still avoid a fight. "Listen, nobody has to get hurt here. Just let her go and we'll head the other way. "

The man with the knife sneered and said, "Only one of us is going to get hurt. You should've kept walking. "

Jeff saw the man tense as he moved forward. He swung the knife in a wide arc, keeping it around chest level. Jeff smoothly stepped inside and blocked the thug's arm with both hands. His right hand flashed out quickly and caught the attacker in the cheek with the back of his fist. Jeff continued his movement, stepping under the man's arm, grabbing his wrist and turning it in.

The punk dropped the knife with a whine and Jeff finished the move he had practiced thousands of times with a roundhouse kick to the ribs. As the man doubled over in pain, Jeff stepped in and finished him off with an elbow strike to the nose. He was rewarded with a loud breaking sound and a cry of pain as the man dropped to the ground.

Jeff stepped back and looked at the man holding the girl. Now that he was closer, he could make out her condition. She had been roughed up a little, with her face showing several cuts and scratches. He still hoped to get out of this without any more violence. It was possible the girl could get hurt in the melee or that he could lose, putting her in even more jeopardy than before.

Martial Tactics

"I'm telling you, let her go and we'll walk. You can get your friend and go your own way. Neither of us wants to get hurt, just let her go. " Jeff considered telling him about the call to the police, but worried that the piece of shit might panic and hurt the girl, or decide his only option was to take her hostage.

The man looked like he was considering the offer, but suddenly threw her into some garbage cans against the brick wall. She fell to the ground in a heap. The thug stepped quickly toward Jeff, hoping to catch him off guard. Jeff retreated a couple of steps, trying to get a clue about this man's proficiency with a knife. The first one was sloppy and easy, but he wasn't about to make any assumptions. Jeff guessed the man was about six feet tall, two hundred pounds. His height gave him a little advantage, especially while using a knife.

As he stepped forward, Jeff made a dangerous gamble. He quickly slid his back foot up to his front one, raising his knee high. The man fell for it and raised his hands to protect his face, putting too much weight on his front leg. Jeff brought his left leg down with all his force, catching the other man just on the inside of his knee. The joint gave way with a sickening thud, bending to an impossible angle. As the man hit the ground with a scream, Jeff stepped back to keep from getting hit with a frantic swing from the prone attacker.

He was trying to decide what to do about the man who was still a potential threat when he heard startled cry, "Look out!"

He looked up and saw the girl staring past him with a fear in her eyes. He realized something bad was about to happen, so guessed a direction and spun quickly while stepping away. Unfortunately he guessed wrong and felt an explosion across his chest. The pain hit him a fraction of a second later. He took another step back as he realized he was facing a new adversary. This one must have come from the street. He was wielding the knife the first man had dropped.

Jeff was afraid to bring his hand to his chest. He knew the wound was bad and didn't want anything to distract him from the man in front of him. There couldn't be any more mistakes or he knew he wouldn't be walking out of the alley again. The new man made small motions with the knife, waiting for Jeff to commit himself or for the loss of blood to take its toll. When Jeff felt a wave of dizziness hit him, he decided to act immediately. If he waited much longer, it wouldn't matter anyway.

He stepped forward and threw a quick jab that missed badly. This gave his opponent an opening and he moved in with a stab aimed at Jeff's chest.

This was what Jeff had been hoping for and he twisted, bringing his left arm across to push the knife wide of its target. This kept his right arm free and he brought it across, hitting the man as hard as he could across the bridge of the nose. It caused his assailant to stumble back into some other trash cans, where he fell hard. Unfortunately due to his injury, Jeff now lacked the strength to cause the kind of damage he had earlier. He knew the man wouldn't stay down and didn't believe he'd be able to finish him off.

Where are the fucking police? he thought angrily.

His momentary distraction was the second mistake he had hoped to avoid. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a quick flash, then felt the side of his head erupt in pain. The force of the blow spun him into the wall. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog. When he looked up, he realized he could no longer focus. There were no more options. The fight was over and he had lost. He faced the man who had just hit him, his first opponent, who had used Jeff's distraction with the others to recover enough to get to his feet and hit him with a pipe he found lying on the ground.

The first punch he learned in his martial arts training was a unique one. The teacher wanted to reinforce how dangerous fighting could be in order to discourage students from being too eager to get into trouble. He chose to show them how to turn their hand on an angle and strike the target with the bone just below the base of the index finger. The blow was supposed to catch the opponent in the windpipe, which would stun virtually anyone. The thing that made the class understand how serious it could be was when the teacher explained that hitting your opponent in the wrong spot could be fatal. You could collapse his windpipe or cause him to bleed into his lungs. It was a lesson Jeff never forgot, causing him to avoid fights at all costs.

Now it was all he had left. He stepped in and punched as hard as he could, ignoring the throbbing pain in his chest. Whether it was skill or just dumb luck, he struck the man exactly where he intended. He was rewarded with a strangled cry as the man stumbled back to the wall and fell. Jeff staggered as he was hit with another wave of dizziness. He also realized it was becoming impossible to focus his eyes at all.

He heard a trash can fall and knew that the man who cut him was getting back up. There were no more tricks to play, so he quickly considered his last action. He decided to give the girl as much of a chance as possible; the police had to be close. He stumbled toward her and fell.

He pulled himself on top of her, covering her body with his and whispered, "The police are on the way, you just have to stay away from them a few more minutes. "

He marveled at how hard he must have been hit. He heard a ringing in his head and it was rising in intensity. He couldn't shut out the noise as he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness. Suddenly the alley was filled with blinding light, then everything went black

Lights Out

The noise was no longer a loud ringing sound. Instead it was a soft, repetitive tone. Jeff slowly realized he was hearing the sounds of machines operating quietly. It was completely dark and he wondered if he was still in the alley. Suddenly he remembered the girl. He tried to sit up, but only got his head off of the pillow before the pain overtook him. He groaned loudly, his head falling back down.

"Don't move," he heard a soft female voice say. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder, gently restraining him. "Sarah, get the doctor, he's awake. "

Jeff heard the sound of footsteps, followed by a doorknob being turned. As he heard the door click shut, the voice returned. "Don't be afraid. You're in the hospital. Everything's okay now, you just need to relax. Your sister was here but she had to leave to pick up her kids. She'll be back in a couple of hours. "

He felt a wave of nausea sweep over him as he tried to think. "Who are you?"

The high-pitched voice answered, "My name is Paige. You saved me in the alley. " He heard her sniff, trying to hold back tears. "I can't believe you did that. It was the bravest thing I've ever seen. "

Jeff felt a pair of soft hands grasp his. He tried to joke. "It wasn't that brave. Trust me, I was scared out of my mind. " He wondered why she didn't just turn on the light.

He felt her pull his hand up to her face and she dragged her cheek across it. "Trust me, you don't know what scared is. I; I don't know how to thank you. I'm just glad you're all right. When I saw all the blood, I was afraid; " her voice trailed off. Jeff knew he had been extremely lucky.

He was getting frustrated by only being able to hear her voice. He remembered how beautiful she was and wanted a chance to see her. "Paige, would you turn on the light. It would be nice to actually meet you face to face. "

She hesitated, "Jeff, the lights are on. "

" So we believe once the swelling goes down, your sight will return. I'm sorry but there are no guarantees. "

Jeff laid there in shock as he listened to the doctor trying to sound encouraging without promising anything. The hit he took in the head from the pipe had given him a concussion. It had caused hemorrhaging and swelling that was putting pressure against his optic nerve. The temporary part was what scared him, nobody was sure if it would be OK in a week, a month, a year, or maybe never. The doctors considered surgery, but because it could be risky, preferred using medication and time to deal with it for now.

They had his eyes bandaged, even though the vision loss was total at this point. There had been some improvement in the three days he had been hospitalized, but not enough to be sure he would make a full recovery. The doctor let him know that if he didn't make significant improvement in the next few days, they would have to consider surgery to relieve the pressure.

The blood loss from the chest wound almost killed him, but turned out to be far less serious than the concussion. The cut wasn't too deep, so there wasn't severe muscle damage. The doctor warned him not to try saving any more damsels in distress for a while, but said he would make a full recovery in a relatively short period of time. They thought his condition would keep him there for two or three weeks, if there were no complications from the head injury. After explaining everything that had happened and what to expect, he excused himself. He motioned for Jeff's sister Katy to follow him out of the room.

When they got back to his office, the doctor explained everything that was involved with Jeff's injury and his recovery. "Covering the eyes is not essential, but in a case like this there are a few good reasons to consider it. First, he will have complete blindness for a short time and his sight will gradually recover as the swelling recedes. Without the bandages, he will constantly strain to try and see, which can cause severe migraines. "

"Second, I want him to completely rest with as little stress as possible. The injury to his chest will force him to be immobile, so he'll be here anyway. There's no reason for him to do anything but heal. Third, I'm concerned about the potential for depression. If he sees little or no progress day after day, his chances of slipping into a depressed state will be increased. My best guess would be, we're looking at about three weeks for significant progress, although we'll need to monitor him closely to have a better idea. "

Katy listened intently and considered everything he said. "I'll go with your recommendations. I know my brother, he isn't known for being patient. It would be best to force him to rest and give him no other options. "

"Good, then assuming we can treat this without surgery, we should know a lot more in a week or so. We'll keep a close watch on his progress and I'll let you know if there are any changes in his condition. "

When Katy left with the doctor, Paige took Jeff's hand. "Your sister will be back in just a minute. " Her voice became thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry this has happened to you. It's all my fault. "

Jeff could hear her sobbing. Even though he felt overwhelmed at his situation, the thought of the beautiful young girl blaming herself for his condition was too much.

"Paige, please don't. If you start crying, then I'll start crying, then the nurse has to come change my bandages. "

He was rewarded with melodic laughter as she was caught between sniffling and laughing. He also picked up a noise from the far side of the room. It distracted him for a moment, but he decided his mind was playing tricks on him.

Jeff started to feel a little uncomfortable. Here he was, sitting with a young woman he didn't know and had no idea what to say to her. "Can you tell me what happened after I passed out?"

Paige took a second to gather herself. "While you were telling me the police were on the way, I started hearing the sirens. The guy who hurt you with the knife tried to run, but when he got to the end of the alley, the police cars pulled in front and hit their flood lights. He tried running past us toward the other end, but there was a fence he couldn't get over. You injured the other one's knee so badly, he never got off the ground. He gave up without a fight. "

"What about the third guy?" Jeff said, remembering the strike he used.

"The paramedics got there right after the police and did that thing where they cut open the throat so he could breathe; "

"You mean a tracheotomy. "

"Yeah, that's it. They said you collapsed his airway. I guess it was pretty close. " Noting Jeff's troubled frown, she added, "Everyone knew it wasn't your fault, you just did what you had to. You were already hurt so badly, I can't believe you were able to do that to him. I wanted to help, but I just couldn't make myself get up. I'm sorry. "

"Don't be sorry. There's nothing you could have done and if you had gotten hurt I would have felt like it was my fault for barging in there and starting the fight. I want you to know that when I saw what was happening, I called the cops and then thought about what I was going to do before trying to help. I don't want you to think I just ran in there like it was some cowboy movie.

I knew it could be dangerous for you if I did the wrong thing, so I tried to come up with a smart way to handle it. When I saw them; " he paused because he didn't want to upset her, "getting more physical with you, I just couldn't wait any more. Are you all right?"

Paige answered immediately, "I had a few cuts and bruises, but it wasn't a big deal. It scared me a lot, but my family's been here since it happened. I just fine; thanks to you. "

She paused for a moment, "Anyway, there was one cop who pulled you off of me. When he saw how badly you were bleeding, he didn't hesitate. He dropped down beside you and put pressure on the cut to stop the bleeding and keep you alive. He refused to move until the paramedics got to you and took over. He's stopped by several times, checking to see if you were going to be OK. "

She paused, not sure if she should tell him the rest. "You know, you're famous now. " Paige paused to see his confused expression. "You've been in the papers, the radio and the TV. You're a hero. "

Jeff felt himself blush, "Well I don't feel like a hero, I feel like I got hit by a truck. I'm just glad yo

Guarding Tara: Part 2

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Tue, 16 Jun 2026 02:26:00 +0000

Guarding Tara: Part 2

Commandos attack by land and water.

Based on a post by The_Kansan. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

I pulled up the covers and tucked her in.

Silently, I got up and put my boxers back on before heading to the kitchen. The house was dark, save for the dim, flickering light coming from the fireplace. I didn't turn on any lights, as moving through the darkness had always felt natural to me, comforting. Probably how cockroaches feel. Anyway, it was after midnight and I wanted to get an early start on the new day's beer ration. As I drank my beer, I thought about what I had just done with my buddy's daughter. Yes, she was an adult, now, and yes, she had wanted this as much as I had. But would either of those things matter to Jason? I hoped I hadn't destroyed a friendship that spanned multiple decades.

I put more wood on the fire and stood in the middle of the living room, staring out the big bay windows, finishing off my beer as I looked down the long driveway. The thunderstorm had passed but the moon was still hidden by clouds. In the kitchen, I pulled a second beer from the fridge, set it on the counter and picked up my phone. I took a quick photo of the bottle and sent it to Frank with a text: "Wish you were here!"

Halfway through the beer, Frank's reply buzzed my phone.

"Me, too, ass hole!"

I made a mental note to take him a couple beers when I went to check on him later. The empty bottles went into the trash and I returned to the bedroom. For a long while, I just stood beside the bed, watching the beautiful young woman asleep on it. Of all the women that had been in my bed, Tara was the only one I cared about. The only one I actually loved. I stealthily slipped back in bed and drew the covers up. Though not awake, Tara moved toward me like a plant moving toward sunlight, snuggling in close. I put my arm around her, kissed her forehead softly. No way would I let anyone harm her.
I awoke to Tara's sweet lips on mine, kissing me, sucking at my mouth. I kissed her back, then rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

"Toothpaste!" I cried out over my shoulder. "I need toothpaste and a shower."

Tara giggled and lay back on the bed, stretched out morning muscles as she sprawled there, naked. In the bathroom, I took care of the usual stuff, then turned on the shower. Tara walked in behind me and sat on the toilet while I waited on the hot water. I leaned down to kiss her with my minty fresh mouth as she tinkled. She reached out and stroked my cum encrusted cock as she kissed me back.

"That sure is a big shower, Uncle Gabriel."

Yes, it certainly was. We showered together, washed each other amid almost constant kissing. I sucked her titties and massaged her cuntlips and clit; Tara sucked my cock and massaged my balls.

I fucked her from behind for a while, until her legs were close to giving out, then turned her around and pressed her into a corner, lifted her right leg and screwed her until we both came. As I pumped another load into her tight, delicious pussy, I realized how easily Tara could become an addiction for me.

By mid-morning we had eaten, screwed again in the kitchen, and went outside for a hike in the woods. With Frank on overwatch, I felt secure enough to leave the rifle behind, opting instead for my BFR 45 70 revolver in a chest rig, and a Walther PPQ 45 on my hip, for backup.

“Hey, there are bears in these parts. Doesn't hurt to be prepared, right?” Tara sucked me off in the woods, but didn't want to fuck because of her fear of spiders.

Damn right I pulled out my cock and let her suck it; I ain't afraid of spiders.

We had Reubens and fries for lunch. I made a couple more for Frank. Tara caught up with me on the day's beer rations as I had switched to water. Tara was a very pleasant conversationalist and lunch was a very nice change from my typical solo meals.

After cleaning up, I packed the sandwiches, several miscellaneous snack goodies, six bottles of water, and two beers for Frank.

"Beast to Overwatch, sit rep, over," I said into a small, hand-held 2-way radio.

"Overwatch to Beast, dude, you live by a seriously boring piece of asphalt," Frank replied over the radio. "This shit is deader than week old road kill."

"Cool," I returned, "Heading your way to resupply, rally at the turnoff, over."

"Roger that, see you in a few."

I clipped the radio to my waist and turned to gear back up. Tara stared at me, a dubious expression on her face.

"What?"

"Beast?" she asked. "Your hoo-ah hoo-ah Army nickname is Beast?" I threw my palms up and shrugged.

"Well, it was either going to be that, or You Asshole, which, has like, three times as many syllables. Conciser is nicer."

Tara shook her head and grabbed up Frank's care package.

"Come on, Uncle Beast. Frank will be wanting these." Tara put her hand on my shoulder and got me moving toward the door.

Outside, I removed the tarp from one of the ATV got on and fired it up. Tara got on behind me and after letting the engine warm up, we headed up the driveway toward the county blacktop. We stopped just short of the gate that secured the driveway and dismounted. Across the road, Frank was coming down from the adjacent high ground. Almost to the road, he slung his rifle and waved. We waved back and I gestured toward the woods to my right. We gathered in the shade under the tall firs and Frank gave Tara a big hug.

"Dang, girl," Frank said, looking her over with an appreciative eye, "you done went and got all growed up."

Tara sighed and shrugged. "Well, Uncle Frank, it wouldn't be such a shock if you came for visits more often."

Hearing Tara call him Uncle Frank had a strange effect on me, not jealousy, but something I couldn't quite determine. Growing up, she had called all of her dad's Army buddies 'Uncle', a title we had all happily shared. Perhaps that was the source of my discomfort. I no longer wanted to share her. We sat near a low, bushy cedar and talked while Frank got busy with a sandwich and beer.

"As of last contact," Frank mumbled through a half-filled mouth, "the plan is to cut the head off the snake. Emmett's already calling in some operators to put together a team, and Kyle is gathering intel and working up a mission plan."

"Any leads on why one of Tara's security guys was part of the crew sent to get her?" I asked. Frank took a swig from his beer and shook his head.

"Not, yet," he replied. "But we might have a guy working that. Remember Tony Coletti?" I nodded. "Well, Kyle and Tony stayed in touch since we got out. Tony's a big time computer nerd, software engineer, hacker geek, or something. Kyle got the guy's phone number from Jason and somehow he's backtracking through call logs."

"Alright, bro," I said, standing up and offering my hand to Tara. "We're going to head back, I guess. Rally tomorrow on the other side of the drive, an hour earlier. In the meantime, anything you need, call me. Frank stood up and held out his arms toward Tara.

"All I need right now is another hug from our girl," Frank said, grinning wide.

Tara stepped up to him and gave him a hug. He held on longer than I liked.

"Come on, Trouble," I told her, "let's go get that boat ride off our 'to do' list."

Tara broke the hug and raced off toward the ATV.

I reached out, shook my old buddy's hand. "Thanks for doing this."

Frank nodded. "Thanks for the Reubens."

Tara ran across the yard toward the boat. Having spent way too much on the high-end bass boat, I ended up with an aluminum carport in place of a proper boathouse. With a few modifications, the carport was anchored to the South side of my dock, and the twenty-one foot bass boat was trapped and held snugly in place by eight moor lines. Overkill, I know, but I wasn't about to let wind and rough water slam my overpriced toy around like a drunken prom queen.

Next to it on the dock, Tara was jumping up and down like an excited teenager, waiting for me.

I took my time getting there, enjoying the sight of her titties bouncing beneath her T-shirt. Thinking about what I wanted to do to her out on the lake was giving me a chubby.

The one-hour boat ride I had planned ended up being almost three. She insisted on sucking my cock, first, to help get me in the mood, she said. Honestly, I'd been in the mood all day, but I wasn't stupid enough to pass on a blowjob.

I cut the motor and we drifted while Tara went to work on my cock, sucking and throating me without mercy, fondling my balls. I watched her head bobbing up and down on me, felt her tongue swirl side to side on the bottom of my shaft. She was amazing, and with the waves gently rocking the boat, it felt like a perfect moment, frozen in time.

I came hard in her sexy mouth, spewing salty ropes of my seed against the back of her throat. Tara greedily took every drop as she pumped my shaft with both hands, determined to drain me.

Getting up from the swivel captain's seat, I stood her up and pulled off her T-shirt. Braless, her perfect tits were on full display. I kissed her hotly, groped her titties like a lust-crazed sex maniac. Roughly, I unfastened her shorts and yanked them down, along with her panties. I hurriedly guided her onto her back, lying her on the carpeted compartment lids that made up the front half of the boat's deck. Pushing her legs apart, I wasted little time pressing my mouth against her already soaked cunny. I ate her out like a man who was helplessly in love, whose sole mission in life was to inflict as much pleasure upon her as possible. She moaned and thrust her pussy at my tongue, tightened her body and trembled at every orgasm, and when she could endure no more, she pulled desperately on me, to move up and fuck her.

I paused to suck her sensitive titties, first, nibbling at her long nipples, sucking and nipping them with my teeth. Tara took hold of my head with both hands and again pulled at me, trying to get me into position.

"No more teasing," she panted, our lips touching. "I need you to fuck me, Gabriel. Please don't make me beg you."

I kissed her hard, slid my tongue into her mouth and drove my cock all the way into her tight, wet cunt in a single thrust. She moaned forcefully into my mouth, then wrapped her sexy legs around my waist. I knew what she wanted, what her body needed. Feverishly, I slammed hard and fast into her, nibbled and sucked at her neck while mauling her tits with my hand.

When she started coming, I briefly wondered if her cries of ecstasy could be heard across the lake, or on the mountainside where Frank was sitting as overwatch. In that moment, though, it really didn't matter. Her pussy felt so fucking good, so inescapable, I couldn't stop pounding it even if her father was sitting behind me, watching.

We continued on like that for a while, then repositioned for some frenzied doggy-style action.

She yelled and gasped, slapped the deck with her palms and quivered uncontrollably.

When I eventually came in her, I was drenched in sweat and near collapse. When my orgasm finally began to wane, I pulled my cock out of her overflowing pussy and lay down next to her, gasping for air. She rolled to her side and kissed me, despite my huffing and puffing.

"I haven't really thanked you for saving my life," she said softly, caressing my face with her delicate fingers, then kissing me, again. "I hope you know how much I love you, Gabriel. How much I'm in love with you."

Even in its current state of oxygen deprivation, my brain snapped back to reality upon hearing her words. I pressed my forehead to hers.

"I love you, too, Tara. More than you'll probably ever know."

She kissed me, then looked deep into my eyes. "In that case," she began, "you'll probably have to show me."

If it hadn't been for thirst and hunger, we likely would have stayed out on the lake until dark. Tara wanted to sit on my lap and fuck me on the way back to the dock, but I was still too spent.

If I had been nineteen, again, no problem. But I was a forty-three year-old trying to satisfy an insatiable twenty year-old woman. I already knew I was in for a long night.

With the boat secure in its little carport boathouse, we walked arm in arm to the cabin. We skipped the beer and went straight for the Gatorade. We showered together, but without sex. Okay, maybe a lot of kissing, fingering, and stroking, but no fucking. Perhaps we were both saving up for a long night.

After a light dinner of tossed salad, tomato soup, and grilled ham and cheese sandwiches, I lit a new fire in the fireplace and we snuggled close on the sofa. For a long while, we sat in silence, content to be together, kissing and touching. It was me who broke the quiet.

"Tara, did you really mean what you said, earlier?"

"Of course I did," she replied. "I always mean what I say." She paused, then continued. "What statement of mine are you talking about?"

"The one about you being in love with me." Tara moved over to sit on my lap, facing me.

"Oh, that statement. Yes. I am definitely, one-hundred percent, totally, madly in love with you, Gabriel Martin Stone." I was stunned that she knew my middle name, but I knew better than to ask how she knew it. "Want me to prove it?" she asked. I wrapped my arms around her waist, smiled and nodded. Tara stood up and took my hand, then led me to the bedroom. My long night was about to begin.

The way she made love to me was more settled, somehow. Less frenetic and more loving. She was gentle, as if savoring every sensation, and focused on giving me pleasure.

I matched her, poured my love into her, praying she could know what was in my heart as we slow-fucked and kissed. Our acts of love went far into the night, and like the previous night.

I went to the kitchen once she had fallen asleep. This time, however, I stood in my living room drinking a bottle of water. I hadn't been there long when I heard my phone buzz on the kitchen counter behind me. It was Frank. I answered the call.

"Okay, bro," Frank began in a whisper, "we got action, front. Two vehicles. Two four-man teams, moving to your twenty. Four left, four right. One driver staying back in each vehicle. What's the play?"

I was already rushing to the bedroom. "The play is we kill the fuckers. Give them five minutes to get well into the kill zone, then take out the drivers. Get their keys and move in on your four from behind, you take the West side of the driveway, I'll take the East side."

"Copy that," Frank said, "drivers in five, then sweep West."

I dressed and geared up quickly, grabbed my Walther, three additional mags, and a 22 rifle I had suppressed with a long, custom can. Unsure if the men moving toward the cabin were equipped with night vision, I slipped out the back door and moved around to the southeast side of the cabin. I took up a good spot, about fifty yards out in the treeline. That was the moment I saw the boats. Rowing in silently, two inflatables were approaching my dock. I scoped them with the infrared optic on the 22. Each boat carried six men. I covered the face of my phone so no light would get out, then texted this new development to Frank.

Frank texted back, "Roger, coming in hot." A few seconds later I heard two distant, muffled shots, a second apart. I decided that the best time to engage the jolly pirates was now, while they were still in tight groups on the water. A.22 is not a hard-hitter, but with subsonic ammo and a decent can, it's a very stealthy weapon with almost no recoil, which was what I needed for rapid, accurate follow-up shots.

From my line of sight, the six heads in each boat were closely aligned. Nice. Seven rounds fired, six heads ventilated. The guys in the other boat succumbed to panic and chaos. The two in front fired wildly in my general direction, and one jumped off the back of their boat into the water.

Thwack! Thwack!

The shooters in front were retired. The middle pair and the guy in the back started paddling like crazy, trying to get to the other side of the dock to get some cover.

Thwack! Thwack!; Thwack!

Boat number 2 was clear, but I still had one in the water. Having made it to the dock, he was staying low, moving around the dock toward my boat. Oh, hell no, I thought, jumping up and running to a new position.

Thwack!

Problem solved, time to reload. As I did just that, I heard men shouting in the tree line, excited. The shouts were soon followed by the distinctive sounds of Frank's slightly muffled, large caliber AR. Gunfire erupted on both sides of the driveway. I handled the four on my side of the driveway, Frank handled his four. It was over in a few seconds. I met Frank on the driveway and we went around to each body, confirming that the threat had been eliminated. We gathered guns and ammo, but found no IDs or cell phones.

"Goddamn, man," Frank beamed. "We got, like what, sixteen of these fuckheads? What do you want to do with them?"

I looked at one of the bodies, then out at the lake. "Fish gotta eat, too, right?"

I awoke to the sensation of Tara's fingernails gently raking through the hairs on my chest. I opened a sleepy eye and looked over at her. On her side, she was busy studying me, smiling.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," she said, her voice a silken whisper. "I must be taking a toll on you, dear. It's almost eight."

It was after four that morning when I had showered and slipped back into bed without waking her. She reached down and took full control of my morning wood. Scooting in close, she nibbled at my earlobe, whispered in my ear. "Time to get up, darling."

The days and nights with Tara passed far too quickly, each filled with hugs and kisses, snuggles and cuddles by the fire, hikes and boat rides, and a ridiculous amount of sex. It seemed we were addicted to it, like teenage newlyweds. If the cliché is true, that time flies when you're having fun, our time was flying by with a rocket up its ass.

On the eighth day, as Tara and I were fixing another supply package for Frank, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Frank, saying, "Heading your way. Mission complete." It was a good thing, to be sure, but my heart sank when I read the message.

"Gabriel, what is it?" Tara asked.

I handed her my phone and she read the text. She looked up at me and I could tell by her expression that she was as dumbstruck as I was.

She stepped in close and wrapped her arms around me, squeezed me tight. "What does this mean? Does it mean I have to go home, now?" I held her face and looked into her eyes.

"It just means that the threat has been taken care of," I answered. "Let's talk to Frank and get some details, okay?" Tara nodded. We kissed and went out on the porch to wait on Frank, each of us grappling with our own thoughts.

When Frank arrived on foot down the driveway carrying all of his gear, we greeted him and sat down to talk. Frank explained that the seven-man assault team put together by Emmett and Jason had gone to Guatemala and disposed of Enrico Zavala's brother, Jorge, who was responsible for the attacks.

"Well," I said, looking over at Tara, "I guess that's good news, right?"

Tara shrugged and looked down at her lap. "Yeah, of course," she replied, no cheer in her voice. "It's good."

Frank studied her expression closely, tried to read it, then looked over at me. I knew what was running through his mind, and he was right.

"Damn straight it's good news," he asserted, "but it ain't the big news. Ready to have your brains explode?"

We nodded and Frank continued. "Tony put the puzzle together on your rogue security asshole. Gabe, he was fucking Andrea." Tara gaspe

Guarding Tara: Part 1

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Mon, 15 Jun 2026 02:25:00 +0000

Guarding Tara: Part 1

A Daughter of privilege learns the value of vigilance, and the sexiness of valor.

Based on a post by The_Kansan. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

I glanced at the caller ID on my phone, answered the call.

"Hey, Cap, what's the occasion?" I asked. The caller was an old Army buddy of mine, Jason Lang. He made it to Captain, served six and got out. I did the whole twenty before getting out. We stayed tight throughout it all, us and a few of the guys from our old unit. Jason went back to college, got his master's in Political Science and was elected Governor seven years ago. Talk about riding a meteor. That was a hell of a victory party, what I remember of it, anyway. When you're hungover for three days, you know it was a hell of a party.

"Gabriel!" came the voice at the other end. "You picked up, so I assume you're back stateside."

"Been back three days, now," I returned.

"How was it?"

"Ah, you know. Same shit, different faces." Eighteen days in fucking El Salvador. Pretty ladies, but a seriously fucked up culture and politics. Their normal ain't my normal, that's for damn sure. We did our recon, gathered intel, and dealt with the target. I'm just happy I didn't get the squirts this time.

"Well, my friend," Jason replied, "I'm glad you're back safe."

"Thanks, Cap," I said. "Is everything cool? I know you're crazy busy most of the time." The phone was quiet for a few seconds.

"Yeah, probably," he began, "but the whole 'father's paranoia' thing is messing with me."

"Did something happen to Tara?" I asked, concerned. Tara was Jason's only child, now twenty. Throughout her childhood, I was always Uncle Gabe to her, a role that I cherished. Women in my life came and went, none feeling right for any kind of lasting relationship, so Tara was probably the closest thing to a daughter that I'll ever have in my life.

"No; no. It's just, Gabe, I hate like hell to ask this, I know you just got back;"

"No worries," I interrupted, "I'm already getting bored. What's the issue?"

"Well, you know how frustrated she's been the last few years about being the Governor's kid, right?"

"Oh, yes," I chuckled, "she's been very clear about her feelings on the matter."

"That's a nice way of putting things," Jason continued. "So, she's got this new boyfriend, now, kinda light in the ass if you ask me, but I'm not the one who has to hang out with him. Still I think boot camp would help him grow up.”

I chuckled, but Jason moved on to his point; “Anyway, she got it in her head that she and Pee-Wee want to go camping; like normal people, she says; and threw a tantrum over ditching her security detail. Gabe, it's not a good time for any of us to be without security, right now. I got several death threats for refusing to pardon Enrico Zavala, and these dickheads are highly insane and unpredictable." True. Guatemalan drug lords may talk a lot of shit, but on any given Tuesday they can send a wagon load of shit to your front porch.

"So, how'd the conversation play out?"

"Well, she's got a lot of her mother in her," Jason explained.

"Meaning you lost?" I asked, even though I knew the answer. Tara's mom, Donna, was Jason's first wife. Donna always won their disagreements. Always. Donna was as brilliant as she was beautiful, and that's saying a lot. Jason lost her to cancer five years back.

"Yeah," he confessed, "I lost. She said she's an adult, now, and can pretty much decide things for herself. She and her man-child are heading off tomorrow to some double-top-secret campsite, someplace remote where her security team can't stop by to check on her."

"Is there such a place," I laughed.

"Hell, no. But, if I do send them in and she spots them, she will lose her fucking mind and I'll never hear the end of it."

"So, what you need is a security team of one, someone who won't be spotted." I didn't need to see Jason's face to know he was smiling.

"Gabe, that's exactly what I need."

Tara and her boyfriend left the Governor's estate around nine o'clock the next morning. I followed his pickup from a discreet distance as they drove odd patterns all over the city, presumably to see if her security team was behind them. Before hitting the highway, they stopped at Walmart for last minute goodies. I made good use of the time to put a magnetic tracker in his wheel well. From that point on, it was a simple matter to follow them, staying a couple miles behind the boyfriend's truck.

When Tara told her father she planned to go someplace remote, she was serious. In a state park, they turned off the paved road onto a very rough, seldom used dirt path that led straight into the heart of some heavily forested, somewhat rough terrain. I held back as they crawled through the woods in his little Toyota truck, taking nearly an hour to go the six miles to their campsite. When I saw that the tracker had stopped, I moved forward in my Jeep.

Three miles out, I stopped and set up early warning sensors on trees that flanked the road, and a mile later I began placing a series of trail cams in quarter-mile intervals. A mile from their camp, I found a slight break in the trees where I could back my Wrangler a few hundred feet off the trail.

I pulled my gear from the back and draped the vehicle with a camo net and some fallen branches. In a spot that was clear of overhead foliage, I set out my second-favorite toy, a quiet running drone with remarkable range, a kick-ass zoom and infrared ability. Already in my tactical clothing, I geared up with an ammo belt and mag holders, vest, helmet and tactical pack. I grabbed my rifle, my favorite toy, and headed out. Paralleling the trail but staying well away from it, I moved in on their campsite, stopping two hundred yards out. Their pickup was parked where a fallen pine log impeded any further vehicle access. A marvelous small clearing was just 120 feet uphill. That was where they were busy.

Setting up their tent seemed to be challenging, but they were determined to have a place to play in. By late afternoon the tent was up, fully stocked with their nighttime necessities, and the boyfriend actually set up a campfire worthy of photographing for a scouting handbook. I was already in my woodland ghillie suit. It made me look like a swamp monster if I stood up, but when prone I looked like a clump of grass and tree roots. I had done system checks on the trail cams by the time they were cooking hot dogs over the fire, Tara having declared her ultimate defiance of decorum by stripping naked, except for her hiking boots.

For some time, I watched them, marveling at how my little Tara had grown up. Her silky, brunette hair was long and luxurious, a perfect match for her lovely, brown-eyed girl-next-door face. Toned and graceful, she was a joy to behold. Tara's natural C-cup tits were pert and fabulously placed, with no discernible sag, yet. At only twenty years old she already had full, womanly hips and a gorgeous ass. Silently, I cussed myself for noticing, but how could any man not notice? To me, nothing is sexier than a naked full-figure woman, in rugged boots.

I made a comfy spot to sit at the base of a tall cedar. Even without the directional mic I was using, I could hear them laughing and carrying on. Still, it proved useful. I learned that the boyfriend's name was Trevor, and that he suspected Tara's dad didn't like him, much. Not a total idiot, I suppose. With nearly an hour of sunlight left, I watched them enter the tent, giggling like a pair of middle-schoolers. They talked about where they had put the condoms, and when Tara told him she wanted to put it on his cock, well, that's when I aimed the mic back up the road in the opposite direction. I loved Tara dearly, and that was not something I allowed myself to listen to. My infra-red scope confirmed a cowgirl was in her mount. That's when my training said to find another target for my concentration. Sexual seduction, even for voyeuristic delight, can lead to tragic outcomes. I'm here for a serious purpose.

By midnight, the only sounds I could detect coming from the tent was that of someone snoring. I hoped it was Trevor. I heard an owl, and a raccoon scuttling about nearby. When a family of deer tripped the motion sensors on one of the trail cams, I watched on my phone as they cautiously went about their business. Around 2am, I heard the distant huffing of a very large bear. Likely a brown bear, but possible a grizzly. It was probably a mile or more out, but I slid my rifle from its pouch and attached a thermal zoom optic into place. My 300 Win Mag AR rifle was state of the art and would make short work of the bear if it got too close to the tent. I pulled the suppressor for the rifle from my pack and threaded it on. No sense in waking them up if the big predator needed to be dealt with.

Fortunately, Tara had kept their food stores in a canvas duffle at the nearest big Ponderosa pine, suspended by a rope, about 20 feet off the ground, Their clothes were also stored outside the tent. What do ya know, the girl did pay attention to the Venture Scouting leaders.

It was quite a while before I heard the bear, again, this time sounding even further away. I let myself relax a bit, to breathe in the fresh night air and enjoy just swig of Kentucky bourbon from my flask. I was reflecting upon what a nice night it was when the three-mile sensors tripped. I pulled up the first trail cam on my phone, waited to see what was coming down the trail. More deer, perhaps? I waited. No, not deer this time. A dark SUV with several passengers was creeping down the trail, engine idling, lights off. A half-mile from Tara's camp, it stopped. Luckily, they were in my line of sight. I scoped them with my rifle and watched silently as three armed men got out and started toward the tent, one on the trail and one on either side, moving through the trees. A fourth man stayed behind, waiting in the driver's seat of the vehicle. I killed the power to my electronics, so they could not detect any ping from me.

I remained perfectly still, watching as the three slowly came on line with me, then passed by. I waited for them to get a hundred feet down the trail before I started moving forward, heading to a spot that was to their rear but did not put the tent in my line of fire. The lone intruder walking on the trail was guided by some sort of sensor, likely homing in on a cell phone ping in the tent.

At the campsite, the two flankers emerged from the tree line and walked into the clearing, posting as security as the center man closed on the front of the tent, holding his rifle at the ready.

This is when I stopped their game plan. One, two, three; one, two, three; One! Two! Three!

The three men were down. Each by a triple from my suppressed AR rifle. I rushed toward the trail, found a clear line of sight to the SUV, braced against a friendly tree and took out the driver. Now, the suppressor on my AR helps reduce noise and muzzle flash a good deal, but it can only do so much with a supersonic round. Tara and Trevor were awake. I turned and ran for the camp, hoping to get there before the screaming started, but I got there too late. That Trevor kid was quite the screamer. The moon was nearly full and cast considerable light, and when Trevor saw me racing in their direction, a creepy forest monster in a ghillie suit, he ran off, screaming into the woods behind their camp. Tara looked like she would have followed him if she hadn't been paralyzed in terror.

Running into their camp, I pushed back the top of the suit, hoping to show Tara it was me. She shook with disbelief, eyes wide. Hyperventilating, wearing a long Black 'Cold Play' baggie tee shirt.

"Uncle Gabe?" she blurted out a question, still in shock from the motionless bodies that littered the campsite. "Wha, what the;" she glanced around, again. "What the fuck is this?"

"This," I explained, "is why you should always listen to your father. Security teams exist for a reason, Tara, and this;” I rolled over a dead assailant for her to see his blackened face; “is the reason."

I checked the three men for a pulse and found none. Two of them had Latino gang tattoos. The two Hispanics I didn't recognize, but the Caucasian looked familiar. I motioned Tara over. "Sweetie, do you recognize any of these men?" When she looked at the Caucasian, her eyes lit up.

"That's John!" she exclaimed, startled. "John MacIntyre! He's been on my security team for almost a month! I, I; I don't understand! What's going on?" She started to shiver in the cold mountain night breeze, being barefoot and bare-legged.

"Tara, listen to me.” I said as I walked over to the big Ponderosa Tree and untied the ropes, lowering their supplies to the ground. “I need you to calm down, take a few deep breaths and put on some clothing. Then go gather up your boyfriend. Round him up and we'll talk, okay?" Tara nodded, then unzipped the duffle and pulled out her jeans. She slipped on her hikers and ran to find Trevor. I searched the bodies for IDs, found nothing. By the time I had finished taking photos and removed my ghillie suit, Tara returned, pulling a traumatized Trevor in tow. I told them to gather their shit quickly and secure it in the back of Trevor's pickup. "Get packed up, I need to check something and I'll be right back."

Back at my comfy tree, I booted up my electronics, then picked up the drone controller and sent it up. Scanning with infrared, I sent it to follow the trail back as far as its range would allow. Nothing. I brought it back to land near my Jeep. Gathering my gear, I ran to the hit team's SUV, searched for anything that might be a clue as to who these guys were. Nothing, not even a phone. I yanked the dead driver out of the vehicle, got in and started the engine, then drove the vehicle up the trail. I parked it next to Trevor's pickup.

"Everything packed?" I asked as I got out.

Tara nodded, She had a backpack on one shoulder, I saw a bunch of crap thrown hastily in the open back hatch.

Trevor looked like a man who suddenly realized there was shit in his britches.

"Okay, good. Now, we don't have time for twenty questions, so just understand that some very bad people have some very bad plans for you.”

I turned my attention to the boy; “Trevor, you need to get someplace off the grid and hide for a few days. No electronics, or they'll find you. I'd leave all that shit here, if I was you." Trevor nodded and threw his phone into the woods.

"Tara," I said firmly, "you're coming with me." Without argument, she kissed her boyfriend. Then she opened his driver door and said; “Now get your ass in a safe place and don't call me until after you see my face in a live presser, with my dad. Go, she ordered as she slapped her hand on the hood of the vehicle. “Now!”

He made a tight turn around and drove slowly off just as the first signs of impending sunrise emerged.

Tara then picked up her day pack and we walked silently, vigilantly; back to my Jeep.

Once we were well out of the area, I called Jason.

"Are you certain it was John McIntyre?" Jason asked. Tara grabbed my phone, then put it to speakerphone.

"Daddy, it was John," she confirmed. "What the hell was he doing, there, and who were those other guys?"

"Sweetheart, I don't know. I'm going to get an investigation going, just as soon as I get off the phone. Until we know more, I want you to stay with Uncle Gabe, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy. I love you."

"I love you, too, Tara. I need to speak to Gabe, now."

“Jason, I have two pieces of advice. I will code the first. 'Trout master'.

“Yup!” Was Jason's clear confirmation.

“Second, let Defense intelligence handle this. If your own administration is compromised, Assume that your entire state security is needed an outside investigation. Because I'm now in the thick of this, and it has international implications, The Fed's will take over, anyway. But Defense intelligence is less likely to be corrupted by politics.”

It was late morning when we finished the long drive and pulled up to my cabin, nestled in forest at the end of a long dirt driveway. Sunlight shone like glitter on the lake, just West of the property. We got out, stretched our legs, and Tara took it all in with her eyes. She grinned, turned to grab my arm as I came around the Jeep.

"Dang, Uncle Gabe," she beamed, "this is really nice. It's so peaceful. Why is this the first time I'm seeing it?" I drew her in for a long hug and kissed her forehead.

"Well, it's a bit of a drive and your dad never really takes time off."

"Tell me about it. Still, you could have just taken me, you know? Oh, my god! Is that a boat? You got a boat? I so want to go for a ride on it. Can we?" I kissed her forehead, again, and broke the hug.

"We'll take it out, hon," I promised as I moved to the back of the Jeep. "We just need to get these groceries inside and get settled in, first. Give an old man a hand?" Tara followed me and I handed her a couple grocery bags. I loaded up with as many as I could and followed her up the steps to the porch and front door. Watching Tara's ass, and the sway of her hips, only reminded me that Trevor was one lucky son-of-a-bitch who would never be worthy of her affection.

Inside, Tara looked around the cabin, impressed by what she saw. The central room was spacious, with an open floor plan that included the living room, kitchen, dining nook, open pantry, and a massive fireplace that always steals the show. Built of stone and timber, the cabin had several large windows and a high, vaulted ceiling. The back had two bedrooms and a roomy bathroom with a big, walk-in tiled shower. Rustic log furniture was arranged around an area rug, centered to face the fireplace.

"Damn, Gabe, this is gorgeous. I might not want to ever leave."

"Oh," I began, setting the grocery bags on the kitchen counter, "you'll be plenty bored in a day or two, just like everyone else." I looked at Tara and grinned. "No TV."

"Everyone else?" she pressed. "Who is everyone, past girlfriends?"

"No, not really. More like, short-term romantic interests."

Tara chuckled, "So, basically just one night stands and fuck buddies?" I shrugged, not wishing to expand on the topic.

"Pretty much, yeah. Come on, potty-mouth, let's get the Jeep unloaded before I starve to death."

We settled in, putting away the groceries and gear I had brought in. Tara fixed us some sandwiches while I cleaned my AR in the living room. The beers and roast beef sandwiches hit the spot. I started a fire in the fireplace and we spent the afternoon chatting and loafing. Tara proved to be great company, and always kept the conversation interesting. It was the first time that she and I were able to sit and just talk, alone together. It was nice.

"Okay," she began, "so of all the women you've brought here, how many did you have sex with out on your boat?"

"Good lord, girl," I laughed, "you have a smutty mind. Where do you get all these questions?"

"You're being evasive, Uncle Gabe," she scolded. "How many, and if you try to bullshit me you will be punished severely."

"Punished?" I pondered aloud, twisting the cap off a fresh beer. "How so?"

"Ever been kicked in the nuts and ruthlessly tickled, all at the same time?"

"Two," I said without hesitation. "There were two." Nobody wants to get kicked in the nuts while being tickled.

We knocked out our daily beer ration and just enjoyed each other's company. The sun set, the moon rose. Around ten o'clock my phone rang. Jason had flown in the team, our old Army buddies, Kyle, Emmett, and Frank. Kyle and Emmett would be handling th

Maiden Voyage: Part 2

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Sat, 13 Jun 2026 18:13:00 +0000

Maiden Voyage: Part 2

A choice, a trap, and a necklace.

By HectorBidon. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

The next morning's sun found its way in through our porthole once again. We had sorted ourselves out somewhat during the night. I was on my side, tangled in a bit of sheet. She was on her side, tangled in a bit of blanket. I could just make out the pale tan lines on her bottom and her back.

We'd become cabin buddies of a different order. At the Jack-and-Ciara level. That's probably what most people would have assumed all along, but I certainly hadn't, and I didn't think that she had either.

And yet, here we were.

I waited a while for her to wake up, but she didn't. So I finally got up myself.

We'd just passed through the entrance in the seawall at Ensenada and were coming up to our docking site. The pilot, or maybe it was the captain himself, was standing on a little deck that jutted out from the side of the ship to joy-stick our massive vessel precisely up to the pier.

Molly was still in bed when I got back. She smiled and went to the bathroom, a little embarrassed to be still naked while I was already dressed. Her pubic hair, I noticed, was trim and attractive.

She came out wearing a towel and had her coffee. We checked the day's schedule. She was delighted to discover that they'd transferred Mrs. Pendergast's excursion ticket to me.

A little later that morning we went ashore. It was a strange sensation, stepping off the gangway into a foreign country. Somehow I expected every little thing to be different and exotic, but the first thing we encountered, sprouting up through a crack in the pavement, was a little tuft of grass. Nothing exotic at all, just plain old grass.

Our excursion van was heralded by a woman with a clipboard, a younger, more boisterous, Mexican Denise. There were three other couples in our group and a single unaccompanied woman about Ciara's age. I took a seat next to the window with Molly beside me with the unaccompanied woman next to her. Her name was Meryl. This was her first real vacation since her divorce. She was really excited to be having such an adventure.

We drove through the streets of Ensenada, our guide giving us a bit of local color in her prettily accented English. The scene was at once familiar and strange: traffic and lane markings and stop lights just exactly like at home, but unintelligible store signs in unlikely colors painted directly on pastel stucco walls. Beyond the city were dusty, cactus-strewn hills not unlike the Catalina hinterland.

Our destination was a site called the Bufadora, a cleft in the rocky sea cliff where ocean waves sent up enormous geyser-like sprays. The sprays were so high that we got wet even at our vantage point fifty feet above the water.

The path back from the observation point was lined with gaudy souvenir shops, like the midway of a county fair. Meryl had tagged along with Molly and me. We stopped at one of the taco stands for lunch.

"So how did you guys meet?"

Molly didn't volunteer an answer.

"Just here on the cruise, actually," I said.

"Really? See, aren't cruises great?" Molly gushed.

After lunch we went into one of the souvenir shops and Meryl asked our opinion about all the little nick-nacks she wanted to buy. When we got back to the van, I ended up sitting in the middle.

"The nicest thing." she said. "is that every day you make new friends."

We drove back through town, then out into the desert in a different direction to a picturesque winery. We sat around a table on a palm-shaded patio and sampled the different vintages. Meryl chatted on about Simi Valley and the cruise and her ex and the weather and the ship and the people she'd met. She got me to go into the little gift shop with her to help pick out a couple bottles.

Molly was quiet at dinner. I had to remind her that we'd made plans to see the comedy show with Meryl.

"I've got a bit of a headache," she said. "I think I'll go back to the room."

Meryl was waiting in the forward theatre. She was sorry to hear about Molly's headache and put her hand on my arm to convey her concern. The show turned out to be pretty adult-rated, pretty raunchy in fact. Meryl yucked it up

After the show she suggested we take a spin about the deck. The ship had set sail again and we were just passing the exposed wreck that lies up against the sea wall. Somehow Meryl managed to tuck herself inside my arm.

"Wouldn't you just love to go dancing?" she cooed.

"I, uh, Actually, I've kind of got to go now."

"But the night is still young.” Meryl rebutted. “Let's at least stop by my room first."

"I've got to check on Molly." I insisted

"We can open one of the tequilas."

"Thanks, but,”

"It's just that, I was kind of hoping to get lucky tonight."

Christ Almighty. A guy tries to be a gentleman. I didn't need an etiquette book for this one. I finally managed to pry myself away,

When I got back to the room, Molly was in her pajamas, watching TV.

"Is your headache any better?" I asked.

She didn't look up from the screen.

I sat on the chair and twisted around to see what she was watching. A travelogue of some sort.

"You didn't miss much," I said. "The show was kind of,"

But she leaned in closer to the screen to make it clear that I was interrupting her program. Something about the way the locals made their tortillas.

OK. I got the message. She didn't like the fact that I'd gone to the show with Meryl. I went into the bathroom to pee. I'd only been trying to be polite to a fellow cruise member. Was that a crime? Molly had been there when we'd made the plans. I thought that she'd been trying to be friendly too. That we'd sort of taken Meryl under our wing.

I came out of the bathroom a minute later, and sat down on the chair again. The secret to the tortillas, apparently, had something to do with lime juice.

"I didn't expect to see you back here tonight," Molly said. In a sarcastic tone of voice. As if my presence was an imposition. As if she was sorry she'd ever offered to share the room in the first place.

I didn't even bother to answer. I got undressed, then crawled up onto my side of the bed. Where else was I supposed to go? I got under the blanket and turned toward the bulkhead. A guy tries to be a gentleman. And this is what he gets.

I woke up first again, the next morning. I went up on deck. Did she really think that I'd found Meryl even the least bit attractive? She was a fellow shipmate, nothing more. I'd thought that we'd both been trying to be polite to her. Was that a crime?

I brought back coffee and a croissant, but Molly was still asleep. Or pretending to be. I banged around a little, but she didn't budge. Finally I got fed up and left.

So here I was again, back to my usual routine, wandering down empty corridors, drifting up little-used gangways, poking around lonely corners where nobody else much ever cared to go. Doing what I probably would have been doing if I'd gotten my single in the first place.

I came back to the room around lunch time, but Molly wasn't there. I wandered up to the pool. Denise was there, chatting with some people. She waved. Meryl was there, stalking about, but I managed to slip away before she saw me. But no Molly.

It was a long day. The ship had parked itself out in the middle of the ocean somewhere. Or maybe the rest of the world really had blown itself up and they just hadn't told us. I eventually ended up back in the little coffee shop at the tail end of the ship. The sky seemed a lot flatter though, the seagulls a lot more listless, my algorithms a lot less interesting. Finally I got up again and trudged back down into the labyrinth.

The casino was practically empty. The lower piano bar was closed. The little art gallery was still showing the same old photographs.

The gift shop was open. The same lady was behind the counter. What was it that Molly had asked to see? A necklace. It must have been, that one. The lady brought it out. A pair of crystalline dolphins on a slender silver chain. They sparkled in the light.

Molly still wasn't in the room when I got back. This time our towel had been folded into a seal, sunning itself on the bedspread. I moved it a little closer to her pillow and arranged the necklace around its neck.

There were still a couple hours until dinner. I thought it might be better if I wasn't there when she got back.

I got to dinner right on time. It was our last night on board, and the dining room was even more boisterous than usual.

"Where's Molly?" asked Ciara.

"She had a little headache. She might not be joining us."

Valentin our waiter was really joshing it up, angling for a big end-of-trip tip. He was just taking the drink orders when Molly appeared. She was wearing a pink skirt, a whitish blouse,, and the necklace. Her eye caught mine as she made her way around the table, but quickly shot away again.

Ciara asked her how she was doing. The couple on my other side were there for once. Tom and somebody. He was in air conditioning and gave me the full rundown. It was too noisy for Molly and me to talk, but every time I looked, she was still wearing the necklace.

It being our last night, the waiters were going to put on a little show. Just after they passed out the dessert plates they went into a huddle near the service entrance. Molly leaned over.

"Do you want to go back to the room?"

We got up.

"Oh, are you guys going to the revue?" asked Ciara.

Molly replied in the louder voice you had to use to make yourself heard. But the room was beginning to quiet down in a hush, as the waiters were taking their places, and so the whole table heard what she said.

"Make-up sex."

The table burst into laughter. Molly continued her way out of the room, and I just followed sheepishly behind her.

"Can you forgive me?" she asked as we got out into the hallway.

"For letting everybody know where we're going?"

"For last night. I'm so sorry for the way I acted. It was my fault. It was all my fault."

"The worst part is, we wasted a whole day," I remorsed.

"We still have tonight." She tried to assure me.

"Yeah. We still have tonight." I agreed.

As soon as we got into the room we fell into each other's arms.

"I love the necklace," she murmured.

"It looks really nice on you."

We kissed and shuffled toward the bed.

But my blood was pumping. I was thinking about our wasted day.

"Let's do something first, want to?” I pleaded. “It's our last night. Let's get our money's worth. Let's go to the show! Let's go dancing! Let's shoot for that royal flush! The bed will still be here when we get back. But let's make up for some of the things we didn't do today. Let's paint the ship red. Okay? Want to? C'mon! Hup hup!"

Jack and Ciara were surprised to see us at the theatre.

"That was quick," Ciara said with a look of astonishment.

Molly blushed. I put my arm around her and pulled her tight. "You ain't seen nothing yet."

The review was Motown classics, the Supremes, the Four Tops. "You can't hurry love, no you'll just have to wait,” The whole auditorium was singing along. The girls pulled Jack and me up from our seats to dance in the aisle. "Sugar pie, honeybunch, you know that I love you,”

Afterwards, the night was balmy, perfect for a stroll on deck. We could see lights off in the distance, the rest of the world was still there after all! We ran into Meryl, wrapped in the arm of a dapper, middle-aged gentleman whose smile was just as smug as hers was. We exchanged pleasantries. She gave us both a little wink.

“Molly, perhaps I’m clueless. Did you have any idea that Meryl was going to try to hit on me?” I had to ask.

“Oh, my God!” Molly stared at me. “All day long, she was angling for you. I thought you were trying for a threesome, and my fake headache was me forcing you to choose one or the other.”

“What? I thought you and I were just trying to be hospitable; you know, so she’d have some friends to socialize with.”

“Well,” Molly confessed. “I finally figured out that you were completely innocent, but it took me until late afternoon to dispel my worst presumptions.”

“I went to the show, because we told her we’d both join her, there.” I explained. “ When you were bedridden with a headache, I assumed it fell on me to go alone, even though I really didn’t want to be away from you.“

“Ah, really? That’s so sweet!” Molly gushed. She gave me a deep kiss right there on the mezzanine. “I assumed you went because you wanted another notch on your belt. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Well, when the performance ended, I said I had to head back to you. She did try every diversion. I passed on all of them. Then she flatly told me she was ‘hoping to get lucky’ with me. I told her I definitely could not accommodate that, and I walked straight back to our room.”

“Oh, I was awful to you!” Molly lamented. “But I was also right about that slut’s intentions, wasn’t I?” Molly paused, then added; “When I finally got over my inner rage, I realized that you didn’t come back smelling like cunt. Hell, you didn’t even have lipstick smeared on your face.” This afternoon, I finally left my hiding spot, and saw you were heading to dinner, I went to the cabin and saw this beautiful necklace. I literally cried. I don’t deserve you. You don’t deserve my juvenile drama. I’d planned to skip the dinner, but when I saw the dolphin necklace, I had to come and grovel your forgiveness.”

“You know, Molly” I paused. “Perhaps I was too clueless, yesterday. Perhaps you were too presuming?” Do you think we can both help to balance each other?”

“Oh, I love that! Yes, let’s balance each other. “

The nightclubs were hopping. We wound our way from one to the other, dancing one dance in each. But then we decided to forgo the casino and just head back to the cabin. And sure enough, the bed was still there, right where we'd left it.

We kissed. I ran my hands up along her sides, up inside her blouse. She undid my buttons and pulled open my shirt. I fiddled with her skirt and managed to slip it down over the swell of her hips. She unfastened my belt buckle and my button and my zipper. I slid my hands down inside her panties. She slid hers down inside my underpants. We pawed and shucked and kicked off everything that remained. And then she took off the very last thing that she was wearing, the crystalline necklace, and placed it carefully on the nightstand.

I backed her down onto the bed. I kissed the pretty spot where the necklace had been, and the spot next to that, and the spot next to that. She lay back and closed her eyes and let herself be kissed.

I settled myself down on top of her, stroking her full lovely body with my own, savoring her softness and her excitement, trying to fuse our unfortunate separateness into something more fulfilling. And somehow, in the midst of our kissing and our stroking, my penis must have slid up at just the right angle, and her hips must have been open to just the right degree, and we coupled, as adroitly as if that had been our conscious intention, as naturally as if we were two jungle cats whose lithe jungle bodies just instinctively knew how to fuck.

And somewhere in the midst of our coupling we sweetly came, but it was not so much a climax as just a sweet vista point along the way. For just as we hadn't consciously willed our engagement, neither did we ever willfully disengage, but just eventually nestled more comfortably down beside each other, still caressing, still softly kissing, still sweetly fused.

The loudspeaker blasted us awake early the next morning. Our luggage needed to be out in the hallway for pickup by eight o'clock sharp!

Molly wriggled a bit deeper under the blanket. "Uh," she groaned. "Just five more minutes."

I remembered the look on her face, when had it been? just four days ago, when we first learned we might have to share the cabin together. She'd been just as uncertain as I had. But now it was hard to imagine any other arrangement. Her lying in bed beside me, trying to squeeze in a few more minutes of sleep, leaving it up to me to keep track of the time, I wouldn't have had it any other way.

We hadn't begun to pack yet, but we'd kept things fairly organized. I gave her a generous five minutes, and then I gave her a little nudge. "C'mon, sleepyhead. Up and at um."

She groaned, but she dragged herself out of bed. We were both still naked. I slipped on a pair of boxers, and she put on a T-shirt. It rode up in back, though, so that her pretty bottom kept peeking out as she went around collecting her things and tucking them into her suitcase.

"Do you kinda wish that the rest of the world really had blown itself up?" I asked.

She was folding one of her bras. "Oh, I don't know. We'd probably get tired of eating cheesecake eventually."

"They'd run out. Then we'd have to eat whatever it is that Valentin eats."

"He gets cheesecake sometimes, don't you think? When they have some left over?"

"I don't know. He's pretty skinny."

"I wonder why Meryl didn't think of him."

"Yeah. Good question. Wrong table, I suppose."

"I suppose."

I crammed my sports coat in between my shirts and my underwear bag. She gave the zipper of her suitcase a final tug. "Besides," she said. "Your algorithms would miss you."

I slipped on my trousers and rolled the bags out into the corridor. There were a surprising number of people walking by, and every single one of them gawked into the room as they passed. Nothing is more titillating to a person walking down a stateroom corridor than an open doorway.

When I got the door closed again, Molly was sitting up on the bed with the sheet pulled up in front of her and a rather indignant look on her face. What a lot of nerve some people had!

I couldn't help but smile. "I wonder what they thought you were hiding back there."

She rolled her eyebrows.

But I was feeling a little playful. The final day's schedule was lying on the floor. I picked it up and pretended it was an official form.

"Customs inspection, Miss, May I see what you've got behind that sheet?"

She wasn't so sure she wanted to show me. She coyly raised the sheet a little higher.

"That shirt you're wearing, Miss. Did you purchase it abroad?"

She looked down behind the sheet. This old thing?.

"Regulations, Miss; It may contain contraband fibers." I held out my hand. "May I see it please?"

She huffed. Bureaucrats! Without letting go of the sheet she wriggled one arm out of its sleeve and then the other one. Then she pulled the shirt off over her head and handed it to me, all the while keeping herself demurely shielded from any and all prying eyes.

I inspected the shirt, inside and out. White cotton, picture of a bamboo stalk, slightly warm. I brought it up to my nose. Girl smell, subtle but intriguing. I turned it over. No detectable contraband fibers. I made a mark on my customs form.

"And what else do you have behind the sheet, Miss?"

"Why nothing, Officer. Nothing at all." Couldn't I tell that she was just an innocent traveler trying to get back ho

Maiden Voyage: Part 1

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Fri, 12 Jun 2026 18:11:00 +0000

Maiden Voyage: Part 1

Strangers forced to share a cabin on a cruise ship.

By HectorBidon. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

The waiting area outside the Long Beach cruise terminal was abuzz with bright new outfits and happy chatter. It was enough to make even the most reserved introvert start to feel a bit of excitement.

I was standing with Jack and Ciara, two regulars of the social group. Jack was tall and rugged, something to do with landscaping; Ciara tall and willowy, worked in an office of some sort. They weren't an official couple, as far as I knew, but they seemed to have hooked up for the New Year’s Pacific cruise. That was sort of the way the group worked. Thirty somethings, mostly divorced, intent on maintaining the hard playing lifestyle of their twenties, looking for like-minded dating partners to do it with.

Jack was explaining the different cruise drink payment plans. I smiled politely and nodded, thinking how different from theirs my life would be when I got to be their age.

Denise bustled up in a pretty pastel pantsuit with her clipboard in her hand. She was a travel agent and the mother hen of the group, forty-something and no longer trying so hard to pretend she was any younger. She’d put together this group and made a nice extra income for her troubles.

"Hector," she said, ushering me a step aside, "I'm afraid there's been a mix up with your reservation. Somehow your single cabin didn't show up on the final printout." She gave me a concerned look. "They're working on it,, but we may have to double you up with someone."

This came as a bit of a rude surprise. One of the only reasons I'd finally agreed to come on the cruise in the first place had been her assurance that I'd be able to have a single. It wasn't that I was antisocial really, but I had my limits.

"You know Mrs. Pendergast, don't you?"

Mrs. Pendergast was an older woman, well into her sixties. She wasn't a regular member of the group, but it amused her sometimes to hang with a younger crowd. The group let her tag along to some of their events. I was going to have to share a room with Mrs. Pendergast?

"Apparently she got sick and had to cancel at the last minute. So we have an opening. She was sharing a room with, ah;" she double checked her forms; "a Ms. Crenshaw. I don't know her, but I'm sure she's very nice. It's a double room, and you know how it is on a cruise. You don't spend that much time in your room anyway."

I didn't even try to return her smile.

"They're still working on your single, of course. I just wanted to let you know the fallback plan."

Not only losing my single, but having to spend the cruise being polite to an old lady? In Denise's mind, that was what the social group was all about.

People were already starting to go into the terminal building when Denise came back, this time with an attractive young woman at her side. I wondered if it was Denise's daughter, there to see us off.

"Hector," she said, peering at me over the top of her glasses, "this is Molly Crenshaw. I've been explaining our predicament."

The girl gave me a weak smile. She was pretty, with long brown hair swept back, wearing white shorts and a light blue top. She didn't look like she could be a day over twenty-one. Not at all what I had pictured as a travelling companion for Mrs. Pendergast.

"It's a double room," Denise was explaining. "I'm sure they'll be able to rig up a partition if need be. But this will be the first cruise for both of you. It will be nice to have a buddy to help you find your way around. I'm sure the two of you will hit it off."

Molly was still looking at me rather uncertainly. This apparently wasn't exactly what she had signed up for, either. She looked back at Denise. "Well, if his other room got cancelled,”

Denise was delighted. The registration mix-up had been solved in an efficient and social-group-positive way. I couldn't believe she was being so cavalier about putting a guy and a girl who didn't even know each other into the same room together.

"They're still working on my single though, right?"

"As far as I know. You'll be able to check with the Bursar once we get on board."

Denise had more than enough smile for the three of us. They called our area for boarding.

"See you on board," she said, bustling off with her clipboard.

Going up the gangway onto the ship itself kind of blew me away. You entered onto the mezzanine level of what looked like the fanciest mall I'd ever seen. There was an atrium that rose several stories high with glass elevators gliding up and down and fancy shops and glittering lights on every different level. On the floor below us a fellow in a tuxedo was playing a grand piano. All of this right in the middle of the ship. Molly's eyes were as wide as mine.

They'd told us to have lunch while the luggage was being brought on. Molly and I had come aboard with a bunch of other social groupers, but they'd all buzzed off one way or another leaving the two of us by ourselves. We found a little sandwich and salad buffet.

"So, your first cruise?" I asked. I was pretty sure I'd be able to get the room situation straightened out, but there was no harm in being polite.

She assembled a forkful of salad. "Yes, Mrs. Pendergast is a patient at the clinic where I work. She's pretty chatty, you know. She kept talking about this fantastic cruise she was going on. But she needed a travelling companion to come along and sort of look after her." She shrugged. " Mrs. Pendergast offered to cover the cost, if I’d come with. I don't know, she has a way of getting what she wants."

"Is she all right?" I asked.

"Denise says she's afraid she might be coming down with something. She's a bit of a hypochondriac. But the tickets are already paid for, and I'm already here, so Denise said I should just come along on the cruise without her." She gave her little shrug again and took a sip of iced tea. "Your first cruise too?"

"I'm not really a member of the social group, actually. I went on a nature hike with them one time and ended up on Denise's list. So now she sends me emails every time she has some big event. She was kind of persistent this time. I think they needed to sign up a certain number of people in order to get a discount or something."

Molly nodded and stabbed a crouton. "Well, it is a cruise. It should be fun. And it'll be nice not to have to keep tabs on Mrs. Pendergast all the time. There's gambling, you know. When we get far enough out to sea."

"You gamble?"

"Of course. Poker, black jack. Machines mostly, but sometimes at the tables. I have a system. It's a lot of fun."

After lunch I asked my way up to the Bursar's office. Molly came along to make sure that everything worked out. The Bursar looked me up in his computer. Apparently, when Mrs. Pendergast had cancelled, they'd looked to fill the vacancy with someone from our same group. I was the only one in a single, so they moved me in to fill her spot and gave my room to someone else. He double checked, but there weren't any other singles available. He apologized for the inconvenience and gave me my key card.

I was flabbergasted.

"Well," said Molly, "we might as well go check it out at least."

We found our way down to the deck where the cabin was located. The room itself was not much bigger than a walk-in closet. A chair, a little night stand, a mirror on the bathroom door, a bed against the wall. That was it. We looked at each other.

"Kind of smaller than I would have thought," I said.

"Yeah," she agreed.

I corralled a passing steward.

"Um, we were supposed to be getting a double room?" I showed him the printout.

"Yes, yes," he said in his helpful foreign accent. "Very nice double cabin."

"But there's only one bed." I said.

"Double bed," he explained. Then he gestured toward the porthole on the wall. "Ocean view!" He smiled, happy to have been of service, and went on about his way.

Molly didn't look altogether convinced.

I sighed. "Let me go talk to the Bursar again,”

But she was sizing things up. Sunshine was streaming in through the porthole. Our two suitcases had been placed in a little niche beside the bathroom door, side by side.

"All the other rooms are probably just as small," she said. "On this level anyway. And they seem to have already given your other room away." She looked at me. "Do you snore?"

It wasn't a question I was expecting. "I don't think so. No one's ever complained."

"Well, Mrs. Pendergast does, apparently. That's the one thing I've been dreading the most." She looked back at the room. "I guess this is just what double rooms are like on cruise ships. Maybe it's not so bad. At least you don't snore. We're kind of on an adventure anyway. Maybe we should just try and make the best of it."

She made it sound as if sharing a room with a complete stranger of the opposite sex was no bigger a deal than sharing a table with him at lunch. She sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up the schedule of the day's activities as if the issue had already been decided.

"Shuffleboard lessons at three o'clock," she noted. "Bingo at four thirty."

I sat down on the chair. So instead of getting a room of my own I was going to have to share this one? Surely there must be some other alternative. What if, what if I asked Denise to ask Ciara to move in here with Molly and let me bunk with Jack? Ugh! I cringed at the thought.

"A magic show tonight in the forward theatre." Molly announced; reading more literature.

I looked around. How would it even work? The room was so tiny. There was only the one bed.

Molly was studying a map of the ship. "What do you think we should do first?" She'd not only accepted the fact that we'd be rooming together, she was ready to head out and start exploring.

"Um, why don't you just go ahead on your own? I've still got a couple things I need to take care of first."

I couldn't tell if she was a bit hurt that I didn't want to join her. But she shrugged it off. "Well, OK. Then I guess we can just meet back up here later."

I didn't really have anything I needed to take care of, I just wanted a little time to sort things out. I was pretty bummed that they'd given away my single. And I wasn't sure how I felt about Molly's matter-of-fact-ness. Was she really so used to sharing rooms with random guys?

Still, if I did have to share a room with someone, Molly was probably no more objectionable than Jack or Mrs. Pendergast. She was more my age. She was just out of college and I had a few years on her. She seemed pretty easy going. If we'd been thrown together as partners at a workshop breakout session, I wouldn't have objected.

But sharing insights at a breakout session wasn't exactly the same as sharing a cabin on a cruise ship. I'd had to share rooms with strangers before, but they'd always been guys. What you did was you put on your blinders, you put up your shields, you went about your business, you let them go about theirs. You tried to be polite. At least that's the way it worked with guys. Did it work that way with girls too?

I guess I'd find out.

The ship must have cast off soon after we came on board, but so smoothly that we hadn't even noticed. By the time I found my way up on deck we'd already cleared the harbor and were quite a ways out from land. I stood at the railing and watched the waves roll by. I wondered whether I might get seasick, but the deck was as firm and steady as any sidewalk on the mainland.

The ship turned out to be a whole little city unto itself. There was a miniature golf course at one end and a climbing wall at the other. The top deck held two full-sized swimming pools, each already surrounded by sun bathers glistening in cocoa butter. The lower decks held lounges and theaters and eateries and nightclubs. There were shops and kiosks on every level; a sports bar, a wine bar, two piano bars, a margarita bar ("Hi, Jack! Hi, Ciara!"); and any number of different ways to get from any one place to any other: by stairs, by elevator, by main passageway, by side passageway.

Later in the afternoon I sat down at a little coffee shop toward the stern of the ship and nursed a cup of lapsang souchong. Seagulls were gliding along in our tailwind. I'd been making good progress on a couple algorithms at work, and I went over some of the key steps in my mind. It was nice being out of the cubicle for a change, sitting in the sunshine, daydreaming instead of coding, watching the seagulls hover and veer.

My thoughts eventually wandered back to my room situation. I still couldn't understand why Molly was being so agreeable about sharing the cabin. It dawned on me that maybe she didn't think she had any other choice. Maybe she thought that since she was only here as Mrs. Pendergast's guest, she had to do whatever Denise asked.

And so maybe she wasn't really all that used to sharing rooms with random guys either. Maybe she was just doing what she thought was expected. A fellow shipmate, a sort-of member of the same social group she was sort of a member of, needed a place to bunk. She had an empty spot. Didn't shipboard etiquette kind of dictate that she offer to share? But then, by the same token, what did shipboard etiquette expect of me?

I finished my tea and ambled back toward the front of the ship. A raucous game of volleyball was taking place in one of the pools. Someone called my name.

"Are you going back to the room? I forgot my card."

It was Molly. She gave her little shrug. She was wearing a bright yellow bikini. It was fairly conservative, the kind she could wear to the gym, but it called your attention to her shapely legs and her slender tummy. We made our way down the labyrinth of passageways toward our lower deck. The people we passed would have naturally assumed that we were together.

"I figured out about dinner," she said. "Everybody has an assigned time and an assigned table. Ours is in about an hour. We can go together if you want."

After a couple of wrong turns we finally found our corridor and our little room. It hadn't gotten any bigger in the time we'd been away. But there was a fresh bath towel sitting on the bed, folded into a sort of soft-origami swan.

"Look how cute," Molly said. "The housekeepers must have been in."

She put her things on the nightstand and fiddled in her suitcase for some clothes. "I'm just going to take a quick shower first." She went into the bathroom, taking the swan along with her. I sat on the foot of the bed and took a look at the schedule. The walls were thin enough that I could hear the water splashing.

She came out wrapped in the towel. "It's too cramped to get dressed in there," she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. She looked around the room, a bit awkwardly.

So this was one of the guys-and-girls-sharing-a-cabin rules that I wasn't really familiar with. What was I supposed to do while she got dressed? Step into the bathroom to give her some privacy? Or just ignore her, the way I would if I was sharing the room with a guy?

She wasn't completely sure how to play it either. She turned to face the mirror, but that only put her sideways to me. So she turned all the way around, facing the outer door. She tried to give the impression that changing clothes in front of a cabin mate wasn't that big a deal. So I tried to follow her lead.

I didn't stare, and she had her back to me, but it was hard not to notice what she was doing. She started by putting on her bra, but as she was pulling it up, her towel slipped, revealing the two round, pretty cheeks of her bottom. She quickly pulled the towel back into place, and I quickly forced my eyes back to the schedule. So it was only with my peripheral vision that I was able to see her stepping into her panties and skirt and buttoning up her blouse.

Finally she sat on the chair to fasten her sandals. Our eyes met again. She sighed, then admitted. "I work in a clinic. I often have to help clients get over themselves, when they have to disrobe for an exam, in front of someone they don’t know. I think I have better empathy, now. Oh, Dinner is supposed to be smart casual." she remarked.

I took that to mean that my polo shirt didn't quite cut it. I'd brought a couple button-down shirts, and so I went over and got one from my suitcase. She nodded approvingly and turned to the mirror, fiddling with her hair. I took off my polo shirt and put on the button one.

The dining room was immense, with big round tables like in a reception hall. Molly and I were assigned to a table with some of the other people from our group. I let Molly sit next to Ciara. There was nobody on my other side, which was fine with me. Molly and Ciara found some girl stuff to talk about. The general conversation at the table seemed to be about motorcycles. Denise stopped by to see how everyone was doing.

Molly had the chicken and I had the fish. We resisted the hard liquor, but we both had a glass of wine with our meal. Valentin, our engaging Bulgarian waiter, brought us the chit. We had both just assumed that wine was included in the meal, but he explained that it would be added to our room bill.

"Will they charge it to Mrs. Pendergast?" Molly whispered, afraid they might.

"We'll figure it out," I whispered back, signing for both of us.

The magic show didn't start until eight o'clock, so after dinner Molly suggested we just wander around. She showed me the little art gallery she'd discovered on deck six where it met the central atrium. Photographs of interesting doorways on old, rustic buildings. Just past the art gallery was a little gift shop. We went in, and Molly looked at the jewelry counter. She asked the lady to bring out a necklace that caught her eye. I leafed through the post cards, but I didn't really have anyone to send one to.

We still had forty-five minutes until the show, so I took Molly up to the miniature golf course. We didn't bother keeping score. I made a couple lucky shots. Then, on the next-to-the-last hole, Molly's shot went wild and bounced onto the next green over. It ricocheted off a bumper and coasted down, curving gently, right into the cup. A perfect hole in one into the wrong hole!

"Whoa!" I said. "Remind me never to play you for money."

She raised her putter and blew on the end as if it were a smoking rifle barrel. "You should see me at pinball."

The magic show was a lot of fun. The magician wore a black hat and cape and his pretty assistant wore a slinky black dress. They did all the traditional tricks with rings and scarves and giant cards.

Then, for the grand finale, the magician announced that he was going to make his assistant disappear right before our very eyes. He had her stand at the front of the stage with her arms up and out to the crowd. He waved his wand and, Presto!, she didn't disappear, but her dress did! It was just gone! She kept standing there for a second with her breasts completely exposed and nothing covering her at all except a tiny G-string thong. Finally she realized what had happened. She shrieked, covered herself with her hands, and ran offstage, letting us see that her backside was just as shapely as her front.

The magician was shocked that his trick had backfired. Shocked! But the audience was applauding wildly, and so he turned and bowed. And as he swept off his hat, what should fall out but the assistant's little black dress. He picked it up and gave us a sly grin.

The assistant came out to take her bow, wrapped in a white ship's towel just like the one Molly had been wearing. When she saw what the magicia

The Lusty Chamberlain Daughters: Part 2

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Thu, 11 Jun 2026 18:01:00 +0000

The Lusty Chamberlain Daughters: Part 2

Is it sinfulness; or desire for a blessing?

By cocteleo. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Wednesday night before Thanksgiving, 2010

A London Parish Vicar

Reverend William Seldon, vicar of a well-to-do church in London, was having a hard time writing his next sermon. He was in the middle of wrestling with the topic of the evils of lust when his housekeeper knocked on his study door and came in bearing a tea tray.

As the plump and comfortable middle-aged woman set it down on his desk, she said, "Begging your pardon, sir, but I thought you might like a bite or two."

"Ah yes, thank you, Mrs. Blandford." He set his pen down and rubbed at his tired eyes.

His servant gave him a scolding look as she poured him a cup and handed him a plate of biscuits. "You've been working too hard, sir. You need to rest more!"

Mrs. Blandford bustled around the small space, straightening and picking up discarded handkerchiefs and odds and ends, and after once more admonishing him to take a break, she left him alone again.

William sighed as he distractedly ran his hands through his hair and stared unseeing down at what he had written. The problem wasn't that he had been working too hard. His church was not in the most fashionable part of town, but nor was it in an impoverished part either. There were plenty of middle-class Londoners among his flock, and they were a tame lot who paid their tithes on time. No, he did not worry about their everlasting souls, nor did he worry about his financial status, which was quite comfortable.

One paragraph of his sermon caught his eye. "To lust is to submit to the Devil's will. It is a dark and twisted path to hell, and we must do all that we can to maintain purity and innocence of mind. To live healthy and clean is to gain the path of Heaven."

William leaned back in his chair, looking at the wall where a portrait of his deceased father hung. His father had also been a vicar and moreover, an extremely moral, upright man. The grim face in the portrait was set in lines of disapproval, as if he knew William's shameful, dark thoughts.

If only his problems were as simple as material wealth and the salvation of his congregants! No, his problem was worse, much worse. He struggled mightily for a minute, trying to focus on his sermon, but there was no helping it. With a shameful desperation, he sprang to his feet and locked the door, quickly returning to his desk.

After opening the bottom drawer, he easily found and pulled out a booklet from its hiding place. The pages were worn and thin from many readings. He flipped it open to his favorite part, a series of illustrations that began with an extremely well-endowed woman fellating a man with a giant cock. Just the sight of those beloved pages had him immediately hard and ready, and he took his cock out of his breeches and began stroking it with a sigh of pleasure as he gazed hungrily at the naughty pictures.

Instead of the woman in the drawings, however, he imagined instead a young woman with curly blonde hair and crystal blue eyes, kneeling before him and wrapping her pink lips around his cock. She was voracious, sucking and licking him with complete abandon and enthusiasm. William could almost feel the moist heat, the sucking pull of her mouth.

It had been a long time since he had felt a woman's touch. He and his friend, Andrew Jennings, had gone to quite a few brothels during their university days. There were also several willing barmaids in the local taverns who were always ready for a tumble with randy young students in exchange for a few coins. But ever since he had taken over his London parish as vicar, he felt a heavy weight of responsibility, and could always hear in his mind his father's sober remonstrances to lead his flock by example.

Closing his eyes, William focused again on the thought of the young woman's luscious body. Just yesterday, as they were climbing the narrow stairs of the Tower of London, he had allowed her to pass him and she had squeezed by, inadvertently brushing her round arse against the front of his trousers, where he was, as always around her, sporting a substantial bulge. Then, on the way down, she had bumped her large, soft breasts against his chest. He groaned now, remembering the feel of those plump, bouncing orbs. Those simple, innocent touches had kept him hard during the entire excursion, which made it damned difficult to go up and down those stairs!

He pumped his dripping member ever harder now, thinking of her ample bosom. In his fantasy, she wrapped her fat tits around his cock, using her tongue on the head as it appeared between the pale mounds with every stroke. He fisted himself ever faster, nearing his release, panting now. William turned the page again to see the woman laid out on her back, taking that huge cock into her cunt. In his imaginings, her face transformed into one of ripe, young innocence, trusting and loving as he thrust into her tight, wet cunny. When she licked her lips and gave him a sultry smile, William was done for.

"Oh fuck!" he grunted as he came, his balls boiling with pleasure. He caught his seed in his handkerchief before it could soil his shirt, and gave his cock a few more slow strokes, savoring the echoes of his blissful release.

Fleetingly, he thought of the last time he had lain with a woman, during an orgy that he and Andrew had attended as a last hurrah before being ordained a few years ago. He had fucked so many women that night, his cock had been slightly raw the next day. There was one busty woman that he had pounded into from behind while she sucked on Andrew's shaft, moaning lasciviously the whole time. Her cunny had felt so tight and hot and wet, and her round ass had bounced appealingly with every thrust. Three years was too long to go celibate, perhaps. It was as good as any reason to blame for his recent insatiable sexual appetite.

As soon as his lusty urges had been sated, he was again filled with the same shame and self-admonishment that had been haunting him more and more lately. Groaning, he crumpled the handkerchief into a ball and buttoned himself back up. Mrs. Blandford must wonder why he went through so many handkerchiefs every day.

With a heavy sigh, tinged with guilt, he carefully put away the dirty picture book and turned again to his sermon. Lust! He felt like such a fraud. He couldn't even go one day without stroking himself off. In fact, he often did it two or three times a day now.

The Chamberlains in London

The clock on the mantel chimed the hour and William stood, both trepidation and excitement filling him. It was time to call on the Chamberlains'.

Two months ago, he had received a letter from another Oxford friend, Henry Carter. Henry had gotten married two years ago to Miss Belinda Chamberlain and already had one son. Andrew Jennings, on a visit to him in Glenwood, had met and soon married the middle sister, Fiona.

In the letter, Henry had explained that his father and mother-in-law were in town with their youngest daughter, Jane, for the London season. Could William be so kind as to pay a call? Without her two sisters, both of whom were in confinement and expecting a child at any moment, Jane had no one but her parents for ready company in London.

"I hope you will be able to find some time to visit them, William. My sister-in-law is charming and droll; you will not find it any chore to spend time with her. She is likely a little lonely without her sisters, so I think a friendly face would be welcome."

The Chamberlains had indeed welcomed him with open arms.

"Any friend of Henry and Andrew's must be a friend of ours!" they said whenever he politely protested their constant invitations to tea and dinner. This afternoon, he was to call for Jane and lead her on a tour of the latest exhibition at the Royal Museum.

In less than half an hour, he was in the Chamberlains' sitting room, attempting to appear calm as Miss Jane entered with her mother. He clasped her hand as she lifted her pretty face and smiled up at him. Her blue eyes sparkled and her blonde curls shone in the afternoon light.

Yes, Jane Chamberlain was the same girl William had just degraded in his fantasy, had made into fuel for his shameful self-pleasure.

In fact, ever since he had first met her, calling soon after he had received Henry's letter, she had taken over his fevered mind. Her perky breasts, always displayed in low-cut bodices, and her lush curves kept his cock half hard whenever they were together, and as he had found himself designated as her London tour guide, they were together a lot.

Spending so much time in Jane's company was a delectable torture. William found her a very agreeable and charming girl, just as Henry had described. But it was her body, a body that seemed tailor-made for bawdy sex, that made him burn. Whenever he stroked himself, it was Jane that he would guiltily undress in his mind.

William could imagine her huge, perky tits bouncing as he fucked her while she lay on her back. He could picture taking her from behind as he massaged and spanked her round ass. In fact, in his fantasies, Jane had done innumerable nasty acts, things he was sure she had never even heard hints of.

But he couldn't stop, and in fact, now had to masturbate before their every meeting to take the edge off. Just the sight of Jane's deep d colletage could turn him into a stammering fool. He was having to find more and more creative ways to hide his raging erections, despite his frequent self-pleasuring, and the amount of handkerchiefs he was going through these days was unprecedented.

Jane herself seemed to be completely oblivious of the effect she had on him. Her behavior was always perfectly poised and lady-like. She had a wry sense of humor and had often remarked that she enjoyed his company, but he had never detected even a suggestion of flirtation on her part. William found that he liked her more and more as the weeks passed, and had even wondered if he should join his friends in selecting a Chamberlain daughter for his bride.

But he just couldn't imagine asking Jane to suck his cock or allow him to eat her cunny, let alone do the dozens of even more debauched acts he constantly envisioned when he took himself in hand. A well-behaved lady such as herself expected sex to be done under the covers in the dark, and to do it only as much as necessary. She wasn't a whore in a brothel, after all. She would want to be treated with the utmost respect, in bed and out.

With a start, he became aware that Mrs. Chamberlain was speaking to him. "I hope this won't inconvenience you too much, Mr. Seldon? After all, you can always go to the Royal Museum some other afternoon."

"Err, yes?" he said, utterly bewildered. What had he just missed as he mused on Jane's womanly qualities?

At that moment, the butler opened the doors of the sitting room and announced, "Dr. Hoffman, ma'am."

A distinguished looking older gentleman with a white beard and mustache came in. He executed a stiff bow and nodded at William. "Is this the priest?" he asked in a slight Germanic accent.

"Yes, doctor, we have invited him just as you asked." Mrs. Chamberlain made the introductions and then asked anxiously, "Where shall the examination take place?"

The doctor's sober gray eyes took in the sitting room, elegantly appointed in tasteful furniture. He pointed to a chaise lounge and said, "That shall do very nicely, ma'am. Now, I must ask you to let the priest and I do our work. If mothers are in the room, I have found that it is less likely the patient will be truthful."

"Oh, doctor, is that really necessary?" Mrs. Chamberlain fluttered her handkerchief and William finally noticed that she did not seem herself this afternoon. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she showed every indication of bursting into tears at any minute. Jane, on the other hand, looked as serene and self-possessed as ever as she sat primly on a chair. William wondered what on earth was going on.

"Now, now, Mrs. Chamberlain. You must trust to my methods and let me do what you hired me to do." The doctor's words were calm and reassuring as he led the lady out of the room. "I shall call you when I am ready. Why don't you have a rest in your room upstairs while we are conducting the examination?"

Nodding disconsolately, Mrs. Chamberlain sniffled as she exited. Dr. Hoffman closed the door behind her and locked it, pocketing the key. At William's raised eyebrow, he explained, "I have found it is best to ensure privacy from any impertinent servants."

Carrying his large, black medical bag towards the chaise lounge, he set it down on a low table. At his direction, William carried two chairs over and placed them right at the end of the low sofa.

"Now Miss Jane," the doctor said, gesturing towards the girl, who had been quietly watching the proceedings with bright, curious eyes. "Please, come here."

Obediently, Jane stood and walked towards them. William tried to catch her eye in inquiry, still being wholly unaware as to what was happening, but she was gazing expectantly at Dr. Hoffman.

"We shall disrobe now, eh?" that man said, to William's utter amazement. In a state of shock, he watched as Jane docilely turned so that the doctor could begin unbuttoning her simple muslin dress, letting it pool at her feet. He did not stop there; he continued to divest Jane of every item of clothing until all of her perfect loveliness was bared. Then, she was led to the chaise and laid down.

By this time, William was feeling slightly dizzy. All of his fantasies for the past several weeks had not prepared him for seeing Jane's creamy, rose-tipped breasts, her alabaster expanse of skin, her delectable nakedness in person. Her tits looked as delicious as he had always imagined, unmarred by any deformity. And they were the perfect size, large handfuls that jiggled with every movement as she settled herself against the brocade fabric cushions.

"Is this how you want me, doctor?"

"Yes, yes, that's quite all right, my dear." Dr. Hoffman replied in a brisk, practical tone. "Now where did I put those forceps?" he muttered, rummaging in his bag, not even looking at Jane.

William, however, could not help staring. He knew he had an enormous bulge in his trousers, but there was no helping that in the current situation. Jane reclined on one elbow, her other hand lightly tracing her collarbone. He followed the line of her legs to the light patch of blonde curls at their apex. It was impossible to know where to keep his gaze. The enticing vee between her legs beckoned, but so did the swells of her bountiful bosom, her smooth belly, her pink lips.

Jane startled him out of his focused perusal of her body by saying, "Thank you ever so much for agreeing to help with the examination, Mr. Seldon."

He dragged his eyes to hers, which were sparkling with merriment and mischief. It was difficult to believe, but she did not seem to have any embarrassment or self-consciousness at her nudity. She seemed as tranquil as if they really were just walking through a museum. William, on the other hand, could almost hear his own heart beating.

"Yes, very important to have a priest on hand," said Dr. Hoffman, turning towards them. "They are always so pure and trustworthy, you see."

William only nodded as he swallowed thickly. It wouldn't do to tell the doctor that his thoughts were far from pure at the moment. But he would have said or done anything to stay in that room.

The doctor gestured him to one of the chairs and William sat, Jane's ripe, young body laid out before him like a feast.

Taking the other chair, Dr. Hoffman set a tray of instruments down on a low end table between them. Then, he guided Jane so that she lay with her bum at the edge of the sofa. He spread her legs, placing her feet on either side of the piece of furniture, and William began to salivate as Jane's perfect, pink cunny came into view.

It was glistening slightly and Dr. Hoffman tisked as he leaned forward and swiped a finger through the slick folds. Shaking his head, he held it up to William. "So wet already. I'm afraid this is a serious case, Mr. Seldon."

"A serious case of what?" William was still completely bewildered.

"Why, of sinful lust, of course. You see how her nipples are extended. How engorged her vaginal lips are." He used the same finger to trace her entrance and Jane moaned, eliciting another series of disappointed clucks from the doctor. "And look at her clitoris! It is almost throbbing, you see?" He pinched it between his fingers and Jane gasped.

"Oh yes, doctor! Please touch it more!" she begged.

But Dr. Hoffman just shook his head again and sighed. "I am not sure if there is any treatment for such an extreme case as this, but I promised Mrs. Chamberlain I would at least complete the examination. You, Mr. Seldon, shall help me."

He pulled out a notebook and gestured to the tray of instruments. "Now, if you could please insert the brass condenser rod into her rectal cavity?"

His hand was trembling slightly, but William eagerly found the long cylindrical instrument, about the thickness of his finger, already coated in oil. Leaning forward, he began to insert it into Jane's arse.

There was a slight resistance and Jane let out a whimper. William paused at the sound, looking up and meeting her gaze. There was no trepidation, however, in her expression. Only a fierce hunger in her eyes as she stared back at him. "Oh yes," she whispered as he resumed sliding it slowly inside.

"Miss Jane, that was placed very easily by Mr. Seldon. Have you ever put anything inside your anus?" the doctor sternly asked as he made notations.

"Umm, ever so many things," Jane said. She was caressing her breasts now and under William's hot gaze, she pinched and pulled at her nipples.

"Your mother said you were found in the kitchen yesterday, using a mincing pestle to violate your rectum. Is this true?" The doctor was busily scribbling, completely unaware that William still held the thermometer and was lightly thrusting it back and forth in Jane's tight bum.

"Yes, doctor," she gasped.

"Not only is that an abominably unhygienic use of a pestle, Miss Jane, but don't you understand that this is a disgusting and depraved act?" Dr. Hoffman looked up now and William quickly let go of the thermometer, leaving it seated deep inside Jane's ass.

"Umm, but doctor, it feels so good!" Jane was shifting restlessly on the couch now. Her cunny was gushing fluids, coating the insides of her thighs. William could smell her musky odor and it made him salivate even more.

"Humph!" The doctor went back to his notebook. "Mr. Seldon, if you would be so kind as to check if Miss Jane's hymen is still intact?"

"Yes, of course," William said, attempting to hide the excitement in his voice. He spread Jane's lips open with his left hand and with his right, inserted two fingers into her moist depths. His stiff cock gave a twitch as he felt a woman's c

The Lusty Chamberlain Daughters: Part 1

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Wed, 10 Jun 2026 17:59:00 +0000

The Lusty Chamberlain Daughters: Part 1

Reverend Henry is tempted by sin; or perhaps something else?

By cocteleo. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Wednesday night before Thanksgiving, 2010

It is the Regency era, in England. King George the 3rd is mentally ill and has lost the American colonies through his unstable rule. Prince George the 4^th became the kingdom s regent and restored calm and elevated culture, society, and piety. The social classes are clearly defined, but everyone lives in fear of descending to a lower class through poverty or lesser associations.

The Belle of Glenwood

Mr. Henry Carter, curate of the Anglican parish of Glenwood, was having a hard time adjusting to his new role. He had recently obtained his position several months ago, working under the rector, a stout man in his 50s, Mr. Niles Brewer.

Henry, being a very devout young person of age 24, was shocked when he had arrived in Glenwood and become aware of the indolent practice of Mr. Brewer. The rector did perhaps two hours of work every week, sending Henry to do the rest as he relaxed in his study with a novel and a plate of cookies.

It had been a stroke of luck, or so he had thought, when Henry had been offered the curacy at Glenwood. It was a prosperous parish, and his living now exceeded that of many of his friends at university. But the indifferent way in which Mr. Brewer conducted church business was, well, unholy! To counteract his employer's laziness, Henry threw himself into the community, working feverishly on sermons in between attending to all of the baptisms, marriages, and funerals, as well as visiting the poor.

Mr. Brewer just laughed. "Don't work too hard, my boy!" he would say in his jovial, booming voice. "The church will get along fine with just a Sunday sermon and a sacrament here and there. No need to go to all of that trouble."

His careless words just seemed to make the fervor in Henry grow even brighter. He had visions of glory in which the people of Glenwood would hail him as a stalwart leader of the community, when they would sit in rapturous silence and drink in his inspiring words from the pulpit every Sunday.

This afternoon, he walked along the village street, completely unaware of the attention his tall, broad-shouldered figure, clad all in black, generated among the women of Glenwood. Any eligible young man newly arrived to the neighborhood was a welcome sight; for him to be handsome, with a thick thatch of black hair and serious gray eyes, was an exciting bonus. Henry, his head full of romantic notions of the clergy, hardly noticed the teasing looks directed his way. He had sometimes thought the young ladies of the parish were a little more than attentive, but his brain was too much in an abstract fog to notice, which of course added to his mysterious appeal.

He was on his way to the house of Mr. and Mrs. Chamberlain, wealthy landowners with three young daughters. The oldest, Belinda, had just turned 18 and had come out the season before. She was generally recognized to be the belle of Glenwood, with beautiful, curling blonde hair and the face of an angel with wide, blue eyes. Her body had ripened becomingly into lush curves that stirred the fantasies of all the young men in the village. All the young men except for Henry, of course.

Henry arrived at the door and the unsmiling butler led him to Mr. Chamberlain's study. The older gentleman was of the round, red-faced variety and he waved Henry in. "Come in, come in, Mr. Carter. I must say, I'm very glad to see you." He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped his sweaty brow.

"How may I be of service, Mr. Chamberlain? Your message sounded most urgent." Henry sat down across the desk.

"Well, well," Mr. Chamberlain coughed. He seemed to be having trouble with his words. Henry waited patiently. "You see, Mr. Carter, the trouble is with Belinda."

"Belinda?" Henry searched his memory. "Your eldest daughter, you mean?"

"Yes, her." For a few seconds, Mr. Chamberlain's face grew so red that Henry was alarmed. Should the old gentleman have sent for a doctor instead of a clergyman? But Mr. Chamberlain shook himself and started again.

"It has come to our attention-- That is, the missus and I have discovered-- Well, Belinda has been acting very strangely of late. Yesterday, the housekeeper found her--ahem--exhibiting herself to the gardener in the greenhouse. This was, unfortunately, not the first time." Mr. Chamberlain pulled at his collar and Henry cleared his throat, feeling suddenly discomfited as well. The small study seemed to grow close and hot.

"She has been giving us trouble for some time now. We have caught her with the butcher's boy in the shed. And there was that time our friend Mr. Allenby came to stay... He was absolutely shocked at her behavior. Shocked to his toes!" He harrumphed and opened a drawer in his desk, bringing out a long, thick object. Henry stared as Mr. Chamberlain dropped it on the desk with a loud, wooden thud. "And Mrs. Chamberlain found this in her bedchamber the other day."

Henry leaned forward to inspect it more closely. It was carved in the shape of a phallus. A rather large phallus, from Henry's experience in all of his years of boarding school and university.

"Who knows where she got this!" Mr. Chamberlain said in an explosive grunt. "She won't tell us, and we are at our wits' end. As you know, Mr. Carter, a young lady's reputation is all she has, and my wife and I are worried that Belinda's marriage prospects, not to mention those of her younger sisters, will be utterly ruined if word gets out of her wanton behavior."

Henry gazed at his host in utter bewilderment. "But sir, why am I here? What do you expect me to do?"

"How the hell should I know?" Mr. Chamberlain was gruff in his own ignorance of how to handle his lusty daughter. "You're the clergyman. Talk to her and fix this!"

He stood up and rang the bell and as Henry sputtered in his seat, the door opened and in walked Belinda.

For once, Henry did not have his head in the clouds, thinking of his next sermon. It was the first time he had really seen the girl without blindly passing his gaze over her, and the blonde's beauty stunned him into a brief stupor. Before he knew it, Mr. Chamberlain had slammed the door behind him, leaving them alone in the study, which all of a sudden felt suffocatingly small.

Belinda, for her part, took Henry in with a long glance. His strong jaw was taut and his gray eyes stormy. She curtsied and walked forward. He hastily jumped to his feet and bowed.

"Miss Belinda!" he said, in a slightly strangled voice.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Carter," she responded, her honeyed voice raising the little hairs on the back of his neck.

Ever since he had gotten over his awkward teen years, Henry had devoted himself wholesale to his studies. He had even thought of taking a vow of celibacy, not wanting the sins of the flesh to distract him from his dream of becoming an archdeacon. Thus, it had been a long time since he had felt any stirring in his nether regions, and his cheeks took on a hot flush when he realized his cock was coming to life at the sight of Belinda's ripe body, clad in a simple navy dress.

He abruptly sat down again to hide his uncomfortable state and attempted to take control of the situation. The young girl was standing before him now, the large desk behind her. The light from the windows beyond created a nimbus around her figure and Henry swallowed hard at the irony of this angelic-looking creature hiding such sinful desires.

"Miss Belinda," he began, "Your father has charged me with the task of curing you of your unnatural proclivities."

Belinda merely continued looking at him, with a serene smile on her lovely countenance. She leaned back against the desk, her hands resting on its surface. The position seemed to push her ample bosom up higher, already straining at the tight confines of her bodice.

"I-I command you to stop this behavior at once. God does not look kindly on those who indulge in the seven deadly sins, and as you know, lust is one of the" Henry trailed off, suddenly realizing two things. One, that in his rush to exit, Mr. Chamberlain had left the wooden phallus out on his desk, and two, Belinda's slender fingers were now caressing it.

He started when Belinda said, "Continue, Mr. Carter. You were saying something about lust?"

Henry dragged his eyes from where Belinda's delicate, white hand was stroking that unholy instrument. Her face looked as angelic as ever.

"Ahem, yes. As I was saying, God will punish those who give in to their base desires. You are a good girl, Miss Belinda," Henry said, although with a swelling of doubt in his heart. "Don't you want to reach the gates of Heaven?"

"Oh but Mr. Carter," she said. "I have discovered a Heaven here on our Earthly plane. It is the most blessed feeling, and I feel sure God would not disapprove."

Henry's face grew red at her implication and he stammered again. "Tha; that is for me to say, Miss Belinda. And I say again, that God will punish you with the fires of hell for your sinful actions."

Belinda did not seem to be affected by his threats. Instead, she ran a hand over the enticing swell of her breasts down over her skirts before she cupped her sex between her thighs, her white skin in contrast to the dark blue of her dress.

"But sir," she purred wickedly. "I have such an ache, just here. How shall I fill this ache in a way that God will approve?" She brought the large, wooden phallus down and thrust it where her hand had been, the fabric of her dress and underthings bunching with it.

Henry was open-mouthed now, his brow sheened with sweat. He tugged at his collar and cleared his throat, but seemed to have nothing more to say at the moment.

"I feel so empty all the time," Belinda pouted as she continued to thrust the instrument between her outspread thighs. With her other hand, she massaged her right breast, tweaking her nipple, which Henry could see straining through the fabric. "I need to be filled so bad!"

She pulled her generous neckline down, exposing one perfect, creamy breast, tipped with a rosy pink bud.

"Miss Belinda!" Henry made to stand, but all of a sudden, Belinda slid up onto the desk and pushed her stockinged foot down, right onto the large bulge in his black breeches. Henry gripped the arms of the chair as he groaned at the feel of her small foot on his clothed cock. She must have taken her shoes off while she stood there tempting him; he glanced down to see her slippers in a haphazard heap on the rug.

"Why, Mr. Carter!" Belinda's voice became husky and even more alluring. "What's this? Are you also filled with an ache? An ache that only a Heavenly act can relieve?" She ran her toes over his huge bulge and hummed appreciatively. "I can tell you've been gifted by God with an instrument of large size. Is it as big as this?"

She brought the phallus up to her mouth now and stuck out her little pink tongue to give it a long lick.

Henry whimpered in his chair, his cock an unyielding rod of iron. The sight of Belinda's rosebud mouth engaging in such an obscene act was inflaming him with the Devil's own power. "No, no," he said when Belinda began lifting her skirts. She propped her other foot up on the desk beside her, the nimble limb long and white, encased in a cream-colored stocking up to her knee. As she uncovered her sex, Henry was horrified to see that she was entirely bare.

"Oh, yes!" said Belinda, still pressing her dainty foot against his rock-hard crotch. She ran her fingers through her downy curls, glistening with moisture. "Umm," she said as she rubbed the apex of her cunny, "This is where it aches the most. And when I touch it, I feel as if God himself has touched me."

She circled her clit in hungry movements, moaning around the wooden phallus in her mouth. "Mr. Carter, it feels so good!"

"It's the Devil, Miss Belinda!" Henry choked out. Belinda's little toes squeezed his cock and his eyes rolled back in his head as she gave a small, delighted laugh.

"I don't think so, Mr. Carter. It must be a higher power of good at work, not evil." She spread her cunny lips open and Henry groaned at the sight of her pulsing slit, dripping with her juices. "And when I do this, it feels as if the Heavens have opened."

Belinda brought the wooden instrument, now shining wetly with the efforts of her tongue, to her cunny's opening and began to work it inside with short thrusts, all the time letting out the most delicious and lascivious cries of pleasure. "Oh yes, Mr. Carter!" she said when it was hilted several inches in her tight cunny. She held it in while she frigged her clit with her other hand. "Umm, I love it so much!"

She began to slide the phallus in and out of her sopping cunt and it made lewd, wet noises every time she thrust it home again. "Oh fuck!" she cried out, her hands a blur between her thighs.

Henry thought he might faint. The exquisite pressure of her foot on his cock, along with the mouth-watering smell that was coming from Belinda's soaked cunny, was making him light-headed. He tried to grasp at the Lord's Prayer with his dazed mind. It had never before failed to center and strengthen his devout conviction, but it certainly failed him now. All he could see and hear was Belinda, her luscious, enticing body making him want things he shouldn't.

"Oh, I'm going to come, Mr. Carter!" she cried out now, pounding her cunny with the phallus. Every time she said his name, Henry's cock jumped and seemed to grow even harder. He squirmed in the chair, his eyes glued to the sight of Belinda's violent release.

"Yes!" she hissed as she shuddered in obvious bliss, her hips writhing on the desk. She slapped at her cunny, each strike making a filthy, wet sound amid her nasty moans. On the final slap, she slid the phallus out and her cunny gushed with a flood of juices all over the carpet as she moaned, long and loud.

The sight sent Henry overboard and he groaned in ecstatic release as his cock pulsed, staining his breeches with a dark patch of moisture. His hands held onto the arms of the chair with a white-knuckled grip as he came, the pleasure so overwhelming that he did not notice a smirking Belinda slide to her knees between his legs.

"Ahh!" he yelped when he felt her hands on his sensitive member, fishing him out of his breeches. He looked down just in time to see Belinda open that pink, rosebud mouth and engulf his softening cock, glistening with his seed.

"Oh my Lord!" he cried out, his hands automatically coming to her head to push her away, but for some reason, his fingers tightened around her golden curls instead. When he felt her small hand fondle his balls and his cock harden once more in her hot, velvet mouth, he whimpered.

"Umm, Mr. Carter, delicious!" Belinda said, popping off his stiff shaft with a long suck. "You're so big! You're bigger than any other man I've seen!" Henry had indeed been blessed by God in that department. Belinda's hand looked tiny, barely encasing his thick girth, and it was longer even than her wooden phallus. She had a greedy look in her eyes as she stroked and licked up and down his engorged length.

"I can't wait until you fuck me with this huge cock, Mr. Carter!" she said, twisting her hands around him as she took him again into the moist cavern of her mouth.

His head lolling on the back of the chair, blinding pleasure running through him, Henry could only moan weakly, "No, no, the Devil's work."

"Nonsense!" Belinda said in her low, soothing voice, all the while continuing her depraved movements with her hands and lips. "You know as well as I do that once a man and woman are married, the joining of two bodies is celebrated."

She leaned forward and took one of his balls in her mouth, rolling it around with her tongue until he gave a loud groan. "If we're married, Henry, then we can do this every day with God's blessing. In fact, I think God would allow it even if we were engaged!"

Henry vaguely registered the fact that she had just used his Christian name. His thoughts were in a whirl of wanton destruction. He could not focus as she tortured him with her unholy touch. But when that touch suddenly left him, he groaned in disappointment.

He lifted his head and saw that Belinda was lying on her back on the carpet now, her skirts rucked up to her waist and her legs wide open to expose her swollen, pink cunny. Her beautiful tits were both out now, squeezed together between her arms. She was rubbing herself again with two hands, lewdly spreading her juices all over her puffy lower lips.

"Don't you want to fuck me, Henry? Don't you want to stick your huge, hard cock inside me?" She spread herself open and he salivated at the sight of that enticing, dark hole.

"Umm, Henry, I want to be your wife," Belinda continued as she slipped her fingers all around her wet core. "You could fuck me every night, every day, every hour if we were married! Don't you want that, Henry?" Her voice was honeyed seduction and Henry dropped to his knees in front of her, his enormous cock straining out in front of him, drawn to the indecent sight of Belinda's fingers pushing into her cunny.

She brought them up to her mouth and licked them and Henry moaned at the sight, his cock now pressed against her entrance, slick and silky.

"Say you'll marry me, Henry. Say it!" Belinda drew her tongue over her bottom lip, her bright blue eyes mesmerizing him. She brought her fingers to her perky nipples and pinched them, letting out a grunt as her hips shifted against him.

"Yes, yes!" Henry whispered, and then crammed his monster cock into her tight, pulsing heat.

"Fuck! Yes!" Belinda cried, her body straining to accommodate his huge size. "Oh my God, you're so big!" She wiggled and squirmed as he relentlessly drove into her, gaining another inch with every thrust until he was pounding his entire length into her as she moaned in satisfaction and gripped his ass hard, urging him on.

Henry's hands were braced on each side of Belinda's head, and he stared down at her, watching as pleasure washed over her features. He had never seen anything so beautiful as she, with her clear, azure gaze fixed on him in an expression of love and devotion.

He looked down to see his cock pummeling her tight cunt, her opening stretched around him, and her creamy breasts bouncing with every thrust. Groaning at the sight, his hips began to move faster as the pleasure built and built inside of him.

"You feel so good, Henry," Belinda said and he lifted his head to meet her gaze again. Her eyelids had lowered and a flush had stolen over her porcelain complexion. "Keep going, harder, harder! Fuck, Henry, I'm going to come again! I'm going to come all over your coc

The Funeral Courtship

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Wed, 10 Jun 2026 04:15:00 +0000

The Funeral Courtship
Abandoned Childhood wishes, finally fulfilled.
Based on a post by secret sexy writer. Listen to the Podcast at Connected.

I had known Alex Newberry my entire life. He was the boy down the street during my childhood, the boy behind me throughout school, and the boy who I always wished would see me as more than just "one of the boys." Especially since I was a girl.
But I'd never pressed for anything more. I didn't want to ruin our friendship. His family was my second family. Even his nana considered me as her granddaughter.
We'd stayed in touch even after I left town to pursue a new career. Throughout the year, we would exchange Emails and sometimes the occasional text. Only at my birthday and on Christmas did I receive snail mail from him. They were always hilarious and always perfect.
The day I received the small envelope in early Fall threw me for a loop. It was written in Alex's neat print and had a pre-printed return label with his address, so I knew it was from him. I just didn't know why. I was even more stunned when I slid my finger under the flap and pulled out the single sheet of paper folded in half.
I had been standing by the sofa in the living room when I opened the envelope. My eyes scanned the brief note inside, and my knees gave out. I collapsed to the sofa, tears rimming my eyes.
Alex's grandmother, Nana Newberry, had passed away.
Visions played in my head like an old home movie. Mostly, they were of the summers swimming in the pond behind her house and the day-trips she'd invite me to go on with Alex. Both of my own grandmothers had passed away when I was still too young to remember them much. My loss was almost as deep as Alex's was.
Almost.
Once I'd caught my breath, I reached for my cell phone and pulled up his number. I tried to swallow my tears as I heard the line ring. I wasn't surprised to receive his voicemail. He was probably busy making arrangements and handling family.
"Hey, Alex. It's Jaynie. I got your letter. I'm so sorry. I'm booking a flight out tonight, and I'll be there as soon as I can. If there's anything you need, let me know. See you soon."
I was already halfway to my bedroom when I clicked off the phone and shoved it into my pocket. My brain was on autopilot as I dragged my suitcase from the closet and gathered the necessary toiletries from the bathroom cabinets and drawers. I was folding socks and panties when I realized I should call the airport.
Less than an hour later, I was in the backseat of a cab and leaving a message on my boss's phone telling him I would be out of town for a couple of days due to a family emergency. I arranged for a rental car and for nightly accommodations nearest to my hometown. I knew there was no place in town to stay, the population being barely just under five hundred. If anything had changed over the years, that definitely wasn't one of them.
It wasn't until I was seated on the plane, the city's lights fading into dots below me that I let myself think about Nana again. I missed her hugs the most. Her squishy arms always surrounded me with such love. I felt protected. Wanted. My parents were always busy working. Nana was so much more than just an adoptive grandparent.
My mind wandered, and I remembered Alex's hugs. I smiled, laughing softly at the memory of him hugging me tight with a toothy grin while Nana took our picture. Then he pushed me into the pond; with my clothes on. We were only six. But I was old enough to know that I liked Alex more than I liked other boys.
I was the only girl in the neighborhood, so I either had to adapt to being a tomboy or be left out. I chose the former, much to my mother's dismay. I allowed her to enroll me in dance classes when she insisted I act more like a girl, but I secretly enjoyed playing with the boys more. I didn't mind being the Indian the cowboys always captured and tied up. Or the robber they arrested with the plastic set of handcuffs. Or even Princess Leia, when they wanted to re-enact Star Wars, especially when Alex got to be Han Solo and rescue me.
I must have drifted off because the next thing I heard was the announcement to fasten our seatbelts and put seats and tray-tables in the upright position for landing. The plane was only half-full, so I was soon strolling through the nearly empty terminal and heading downstairs to collect my baggage and rental car. I grabbed a cup of coffee from the only open vendor and asked the information desk for directions to the hotel where I'd made reservations. There was nothing more I could do for Alex tonight.
But once I'd reached my destination, the last thing on my mind was sleep. My accommodations were comfortable, but not even a hot shower seemed to help. I crawled beneath the covers and turned on the TV, hoping I'd just fall asleep from boredom and get some rest before the hour drive to my hometown in the morning.
A ringing phone and the incessant chatter of a woman and man pulled me out of the strangest dream. I'd been fully dressed and standing by Nana's pond, but I was thirty-four years old, not six. Alex walked towards me, his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, and he flashed his toothy grin at me. I reached for his hand, and I swear I stepped forward, but the next thing I knew, I was falling backwards into the pond. I struggled to swim, the weight of my clothes pulling me underwater. Someone grabbed my hand, and then I woke up.
An automated wake-up call answered my sleepy greeting, and I clumsily set the receiver back on the handset and rolled over, groaning. That's when I realized the morning news was playing on the TV. My body felt like it had been through a 5K run; or maybe it had struggled to stay above water. In either case, I dragged myself to the bathroom for another shower.
I decided on a simple navy pantsuit and crimson camisole blouse. It was cool but dark enough for the funeral, yet I didn't feel completely dreary in it. Plus it emphasized my curves and long legs. Today, I felt like I wanted to be a girl in front of Alex. Not that it would matter.
After securing another cup of coffee, I took a deep breath and pointed the rental car towards my hometown. I remembered where the only funeral home was, and I had plenty of time before the services started. Yet, I was suddenly nervous. I hadn't actually seen Alex in several years, despite our constant contact. I hated the fact that it took something like this to bring us together again. I promised myself that I would visit more often.
The parking lot was overflowing when I finally pulled up to the funeral home. I ended up parking half a block away on a side street and walking back to the large Victorian-style house that had been converted into the place where we said goodbye to our loved ones. Trees adorned with vibrantly colored leaves decorated the front yard. It looked like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting, set right in the heart of my hometown.
I joined the throng of people who had come to pay their respects, and managed to find a seat in the back of the largest room that was always used for services. The belief in the community was that our two churches were for worship and weddings. Funerals were held at Thompkins & Sons, no matter if you were Catholic or Baptist.
MrJack. Listen to the Podcast at My First Time.

Readers: Biblical and historical accounts of Adam and Eve's early relationship are very sketchy. This imprecise information leaves much for the imagination to fill in. This tale is an interpretation of events. To paraphrase an old Simon & Garfunkel song; 'You'll hear words you never heard in the bible'

Alone was I, walking aimlessly through the green pastures and meadows, when upon a forested glen I did come. Seeing no harm in it, I entered the shadowy realm for a little exploratory expedition.

Soon I realized I must be careful of the myriad array of briars and brambles which could rip and tear uncovered skin. I began thinking about how lucky animals were to have fur or hair for skin protection. The only furry hair covering I had on my body was on the top of my head and between my legs.

I made up a word for my unclothed predicament. I called it 'nudity'. Yep, I was as nude as the day the Creator made me! This is what I did for a living. I gave a name to 'things' which had no name before.

Truth be told, one of the first things I named was the long, dangly appendage hanging down between my legs. The word 'cock' came to my mind and I decided to stay with it. I believe I came up with the name when I'd named the 'rooster'. Those horny cacklers wake up early in the morning and crow like hell! The cock between my legs was the same way. Early in the morning it did rise and the only way I'd discover to tame its demanding crowing was to pump it vigorously with my hand until it shot out a load of milky cream. A side benefit to this exercise was that it felt pretty damn good doing it!

As I continued walking along, the trees, bushes, and briars thinned out and soon I found myself on the edge of a beautiful garden. I was awestruck by its magnificence and bounty. Right then and there, I decided to name the place 'Eden'.

So amazed was I by the wonders of Eden, I didn't immediately hear the soothing, angelic singing coming from behind a tree. Finally, I heard the melodious tones. With my curiosity aroused, I crept forward to investigate.

Talking about being aroused! Why, as soon as my eyes beheld the sight of the wondrous creature standing there, the cock between my legs became swollen and fully erect!

Nude like me, the enchanting vision had shapes and curves which were stimulating my loins in a way I'd never known before. For some curious reason I had an irresistible urge to mate with the exotic being.

Where in the world this fascinating life form had come from, I couldn't say. Since the being was standing up on legs like mine, I decided this must be a female version of me. I had been calling myself a 'man', so I would call this creature a 'woman'. Woe is me as a man because I've fallen head-over-heels in love with her seductively erotic body.

Touching a tender place in my side where a rib had been removed, I recalled something the Almighty had said about making me a companion and playmate for life. Perhaps this feminine apparition was it.

The woman bent over to pick some berries from a bush. Posed as she was, I realized her body was so picture-perfect a visual image of the word 'playmate' was stuck in my mind and in my eyes.

Stepping out from behind the tree, I walked towards the woman. I had a hypnotic urge to touch her, but I kept my hands to myself. Speaking softly, I said, "Hi there, woman. How are you? Do you have a name? If not, I can give you one. It's my job, if you care to know."

Startled, the woman turned, smiled, and answered, "Hi yourself, Mister. I'm fine. I've been wondering when you'd be coming along. Yes, I have a name. God told me to call myself 'Eve'. You must be the famous 'Adam' he's told me about?"

"Yes ma'am, Adam is my name," I responded. "I'm very happy to meet you, Eve. God has only told me a few things about you. Hell, he didn't mention anything about how beautifully sexy you would be!"

Eve looked at me disapprovingly and sternly admonished, "Adam, we're not supposed to use the word 'Hell' because we come from a place called 'Heaven'!"

"Now woman!" I said firmly. "Don't you start pestering me about my language! Next thing I know, you'll be telling me I can't drink or smoke!"

Looking at me with a frown on her face, Eve asked, "Do you really drink and smoke, Adam? God told me you were a 'good' man with no vices!"

"Miss Eve, don't you fret," I said. "I was just kidding. I don't drink. I don't smoke and I don't chew and I don't go with girls that do!"

Eve giggled at my feeble attempt at humor. Taking my hand, she led me over to a grassy nook near a quiet-running stream. We talked a little while and had a snack made from nuts, berries, and fruit.

Unashamedly, I was giving Eve's body a good hard look. This woman had a head full of long, curly hair. She had a thin bush of curly hair between her legs. Below her bush, long, well-tapered legs ran all the way down to barefooted feet. Upon her chest sat two magnificent mammary orbs.

The melon-shaped ornaments decorating Eve's chest had an alluring, inviting attraction for both my hands and my mouth. My hands wanted to play with them and my mouth wanted to suckle the feminine fruit. There at the tip of each perfect sphere was a protruding, pink nub.

Without asking for Eve's permission or consent, I began playing with the feminine objects I so desired. She didn't seem to mind, so I played to my heart's content. My mind began to think up names I could give to these mesmerizing mounds. I had a couple of words in particular in mind.

Eve beat me to the punch. Smiling contently, she said, "Adam, do you like my girls? I'm not exactly sure about what to call them, but I've come up with two names to choose from. I like the word 'breasts' and the word 'tits'. I can't decide between them. Which one of them do you like better, Adam?"

"Damn, Eve!" I answered with mischievously teasing distress. "I'm having trouble choosing myself because I like your right one just as much as the left one! They're both beautiful girls!"

Shaking her head with annoyance, Eve retorted impatiently, "Silly man, I didn't mean which 'girl' you liked the best! I want to know which name you preferred. Do you like 'tits' or do you like 'breasts'?"

"What's in a name, Eve?" I replied. "A rose by any other name would look and feel as beautifully sweet! How about we keep both names? We'll use 'breasts' on formal occasions like when we are talking to God. I'll say something like, 'God, that's some mighty fine breasts you've given my woman Eve!' And, when we are alone, we'll use 'tits' as a more intimate endearment. I'll say something like, 'Hot damn Eve, your tits are beautiful!' What do you think about that?"

Eve giggled merrily and then proved she too could play the game of mischievousness merriment. "Sounds fine to me," she said. "Mister, you can call them 'breasts' or 'tits' or 'jugs' or 'knockers' or 'boobs' or anything you want just as long as you love them and play with them! You do love them, don't you, Adam? If you do, then you'd better kiss them!"

"Hell yes, I love them!" I answered adamantly. And, kiss those beautiful girls I did. First, one melon-shaped boob felt the oral assault of my tit-hungry roving mouth. The other tit became a victim of a similar attack. Nubile nipples popped to attention against my teeth as my tongue traced kissing circles round and round them.

So violent was my mouth's breast battering, Eve was knocked to her back in the soft grass. A nipple was pulled out of my suckling mouth so violently it caused an audible 'pop'.

Having tasted feminine fruit, I had no intention of stopping now. My flesh-hungry lips explored my woman's silky, soft flesh from head to toe. Her supple lips provided sweet nectar which inflamed the twin fires of passion and love. Eve's abdomen and its bellybutton indentation became playgrounds for my kissing touch.

I flipped Eve over onto her belly and kissed her back, her legs, and the well-endowed fullness of her pretty derriere. 'Derriere'? Now where in the world did my mind get this name? This name is too fancy and formal for everyday use. So, I needed a short, intimate name which would convey the stimulating horniness I felt while playing with and kissing this sweet, soft feminine flesh.

When I bent over again to kiss the fullness of this exotic beauty's behind, my erect cock was tickled by the grass beneath her. I liked the feeling of grass under my feet as a walked to and fro barefooted. Yeah, I liked grass and I liked ass. 'Ass'...? Why this word popped into my head, I couldn't say, but it sounded like a keeper to me.

"Hey, Eve," I said. "Lady, you've got a really nice ass! I like it very much, but I believe the Old Man upstairs gave you a defective one. Why honey, your ass has a crack down the middle splitting it apart!"

Eve giggled with melodious merriment. Flipping over onto her back, she looked at me just as if she were staring at a half-witted man. "Adam," she lectured. "God's ways are mysterious and we're not supposed to question them. Besides, I don't believe my 'ass' is defective because I have a cracked mound on the front side of me, too!"

"You do?" I asked with skepticism. "Well, Miss Prissy, I believe I'd have to get a look at that place before I'd go to giving God the benefit of my doubts. I come from a 'show-me' land, so My lady, show me!"

Playing along eagerly, Eve spread her legs wide and pointed to the hair-covered opening between her legs. During my visual and oral exploration of this wondrous woman's body, I had bypassed this bush-covered place. My thinking was if God had covered it then perhaps it was a female 'thing' with little a man would find appealing.

Man-o-man was I mistaken! Right there, where Eve was pointing, was a glorious mound of erotically stimulating feminine flesh the likes of which I couldn't believe existed! Appealing...? Why, bless my soul, the mounded perfection of Eve's womanhood was the most wondrously fascinating sight I'd ever been privileged to see!

"Believe me now?" Eve seductively teased. "See the cracked place? Mister 'doubter', you just watch this! I'm going to open my spilt place and let you see what I have hidden inside it."

With mesmerized eyes, I saw the woman spread the swollen outer lips of her fabulous mound. Out popped a tantalizing treasure which made my cock swell to its bursting point. Below the dangling jewel, small, butterfly wings of inner flesh gave hint of a moisturized opening.

"God Almighty, Eve!" I exclaimed. "What do you call this marvelous thing? Do you already have a name picked out? I hope so because I'm so stunned I couldn't come up with a name even if God threatened to fire me from my name-calling job."

The woman beneath my eyes smiled and happily answered, "Why, yes Sir I just happened to have picked out names myself! One day I was playing with some baby pussycats. The cute little felines were cuddly, warm, and furry. I decided to name the warm, furry place between my legs a 'pussy'. 'Vagina' is a formal name I picked. The part that's sticking out in between my pussy lips, I call a 'clitoris' or 'clit' for short. Adam, dear, do you like my names?"

"Lordy me, I surely do!" I boldly pronounced. "Damn Eve, I love your names and I love looking at your pretty pussy and clit! But, lady of mine, I'm afraid I'm going to have to do the same thing to your vaginal feminine delights I did with your tits. Babe, I just have to have my hands and lips on them."

Pushing Eve's fingers aside, my own fingers dug into the mound of her feminine flesh. My hands attacked and roughly caressed my woman's pussy. Having tasted the fruit of her breasts, I had every intention of tasting every inch of this delectable female treasure Eve was giving me.

My flesh-hungry lips explored my woman's silky, soft pussy. My mouth felt racing blood running through seductively swollen outer lips. My fingers pulled curly hairs aside so my lips could kiss the silky skin close to her thighs.

Ravenous pussy-hunger seized control of my senses. Spreading the puffy lips, my mouth and lips assaulted the tempting clit. This warm, juicy protrusion of exotic femininity stiffened to erectness as I greedily licked and sucked it.

My licking, exploring tongue found entrance in through the inner-pussy butterfly wings and found this woman's mysterious vaginal hole. The sticky wetness of feminine moisture assailed my probing tongue. Licking and lapping at the slippery stickiness, my stiffened oral cock continued its exploratory quest. Deeper and deeper into the bottomless depths did I plunge.

"Ouch!" Eve exclaimed. "Adam that hurt! You're sticking your tongue in too deep and you're hurting my hymen. And, quit biting my clit so hard! How would you like it if I chewed on your manhood so hard I made it sore?"

Sensing an opening for another avenue of sexual stimulation, I winked and answered, "Well Eve, I suppose I wouldn't mind if you sucked and chewed on my cock for a while. A little lady like you can't hurt my big, hard fella!"

I was wrong, at least I was halfway wrong. Eve tackled me, shoved me to my back in the grass, and grabbed my elongated shaft. Without any planned forethought the woman popped the head of my cock into her mouth.

Just like me, today was Eve's first time experiencing sex. She didn't know any more about what she was doing than I did. Yet, with a cock stuck inside it, her mouth knew what to do. Releasing saliva as a lubricant, this woman's mouth began to hungrily bob up and down on the rigid rod.

While she was sucking on my throbbing erection, Eve's tongue was doing magical tricks all along my swollen manhood. Twisting and twirling the woman's serpentine tongue was teasing my tender flesh and driving me crazy.

"Oh Babe," I gasped. "That feels incredibly good! But, I believe you were told you couldn't hurt my big fella, so you just go right on sucking and I'll lie here and enjoy your feeble attempts to try. Lady, you've got to learn to listen to your man when he tells you what's what!"

I wish God had warned me about a woman's temper sometimes being short. Hell, I had no idea I was teasing Eve too much! I learned my mistake the hard way.

"Adam, tell me how this feels!" Eve impishly said. Her teeth bit into the tender flesh of my swollen cock. She scraped her sharpened chewers all along the length of my shaft. She nipped at my skin and stubbornly chewed on my meaty erection.

Adding insult to injury, Eve mockingly said, "Feels good, doesn't it, Adam? You just lie back and enjoy my feeble attempts. Are you still having a good time, my dear?"

Grabbing the mischievous woman by her long, curly hair, I smacked her ass with a stinging whack and pulled her greedy, cock-biting teeth away from my loins. Pulling her atop me, I settled her on my chest with her tits pushing against my hot skin.

"Shut up and kiss me, Eve!" I ordered. "If you keep on teasing me, I'll turn you over my knees and give your pretty little ass a good and proper spanking! Now, what would you think about that?"

Despite her efforts to prevent it, Eve grinned. "Promises, promises," She irresistibly teased. "That's all a man can do. Why Adam, if you really wanted to spank my ass then you would stop talking about it and just do so!"

Springing up into a sitting position, I twisted the wickedly wanton woman's body into a lying position across my lap. Her sticky, wet pussy was pressed so tightly against my hardened erection our pubic hairs became intertwined. My cock was enclosed within the confines of her warm thighs.

Raising my hand, I slapped a seductive, lily-white ass cheek with a quick smack. Ass smack after ass smack followed until both cheeks glowed with a reddening tint. Eve whimpered, but she didn't cry out or protest my manhandling mauling.

Emboldened, I spanked her again. This time, my stinging slaps must have caused too much discomfort. "God, Adam!" Eve wailed with tears streaming from her eyes. "Mister, if you start getting too rough, I'll kick your ass all over this beautiful garden!"

"Sorry, Eve," I said with genuine remorse. "Honey, I was just so caught up in the excitement of ass spanking I couldn't control myself. How about you lie down and let me kiss it and make it 'all better'?"

Eve turned over onto her belly in the grass and I rained a torrent of soothing kisses all over the reddish skin of her ass. My kissy-licky lips warmed to their task of providing nurturing comfort to inflamed flesh. My licking tongue traced tickling lines all around each beautiful cheek.

When at last the reddened skin turned back to white, I stopped kissing my woman's ass. Picking her lithe body up off the grass, I sat her astride my lap with her legs going behind my back. Her tits were pressed against my chest and our naked loins were touching.

Drippy moisture was leaking from Eve's pussy and running along the length of my stimulated cock. I had been wondering about all the wetness she had between her legs. Was she supposed to be so wet and was it natural?

"Eve?" I asked inquisitively. "Are you certain God didn't give you a 'defective' female body? Your pussy has sprung a leak and is dripping all over us!" Putting her arms around my neck, Eve wet her lips and kissed me with an ardent passion which shook me to my toes. Looking deeply into my eyes, she whispered, "Adam, my dear sweet man, God told me there was a reason for the wetness dripping from my pussy, but he didn't explain it fully. He said I'd like the reason and you would, too. Oh, and yeah, he mentioned something about it being a lubricant for penile penetration."

"Adam?" Eve quickly questioned. "What is 'penile penetration'? I've been wondering about it ever since God told me. You've been around longer than I have, Adam, so what is it?"

Shrugging my shoulders with bewilderment, I answered, "Beats me, Eve. I've never heard of it before. God never mentioned it to me. The last time I talked to the Old Man upstairs he said, 'Adam, when you find Eve, be fruitful and multiply.' There wasn't a word said about penile penetration."

"Oh my goodness me!" Eve cried out. "Why Adam, God said the same thing to me! He said, 'When Adam comes along, be fruitful and multiply'. What does that mean? Do you know how to multiply, Adam?"

Shaking my head as an indication of a negative answer, I pulled Eve closer to me and began to ponder the predicaments of beginning a new species of earthly life forms. This is not going to be as easy as I expected.

As I pondered, Eve reached down and moved my cock into a more comfortable position between her legs. She was sitting with my elongated rod stuck beneath her with the shaft cocooned in the crack of her ass. My swollen cockhead was touching the entrance to the hole I'd seen between her ass cracks. Thinking of that hole sparked my imagination.

"Lord a mercy, Eve!" I declared. "I've got an idea about how to 'multiply'! Have you ever noticed how the male animals in the fields and woods are always jumping up on the back of their mates? The male sticks his cock into the female's ass and they mate. Next time you see them, they might have one or two little ones of their own kind tagging along. Eve, I think they are 'multiplying'!"

"That makes sense, Adam," Eve agreed. "God told us to, so why don't we try it? I'll get up on my knees and bend over and you can get behind me. Try sticking your cock into my ass and try to multiply me."

While Eve was moving into a mating position, I began scratching my head and thinking. As I moved to kneel behind the woman, I said, "Eve, I'd love to multiply you, but I've been thinking. 'Multiply' is a complicated word which is too long and cumbersome. Why don't we come up with a short, more-easily pronounceable name? Eve, how does the word 'fuck' sound to you? I could say, 'Woman, I'd like to 'fuck' you!' What do you think?"

"Oh Adam, that's a perfect word!" Eve heartedly agreed. "You are good at your naming job. Now Miste

Busted Parents: 2 Stories

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Mon, 08 Jun 2026 04:44:00 +0000

Busted Parents: 2 Stories

“Do as we say, not as we did.”

Based on a post by yellowjacket66. Listen to the Podcast at my First Time.

Her Parents Caught Us Naked

But Haley and I discovered their shameful secrets.

"I'll rip your fucking dick off; and stuff it down your fucking throat, if you knock-up my daughter." It was Mr. Boyd Summers, the father of my girlfriend Haley. He was very angry.

Haley and I, both 18, having recently graduated from high school were sitting in her parents' kitchen listening to the diatribe from Haley's father.

Haley spoke up, "Daddy, we're not doing anything like that. Please don't say things like that."

Mr. Summers continued, he was drunk and pissed-off. He ranted at me, "Don't you tell me you're not fucking my daughter!"

But I hadn't told him I wasn't fucking his daughter; his daughter had. She continued to defend herself. "Daddy, please! Josh and I have not been having sex."

Mr. Summers said, "Bull; shit! Don't lie to me, little girl."

"I'm not lying." She said. Haley was now crying.

Mrs. Summers entered the fray, "Boyd, don't speak like that to your daughter."

He said, "She's just a slut! Just like you and your sister."

Mrs. Summers ignored the words and calmed him down. "Boyd, sit here! Let your daughter explain herself." Oh boy, this would have to be a good explanation.

Mr. Summers sneered, "Okay, explain how you and this asshole” Boyd sneered at me; “Came home naked? What were you doing, reading poetry to each other?" He was drunk and angry.

I could see his point, though. Haley and I had showed up at the front door to her house, buck naked. It was a Saturday night in late May, and I had picked her up for a date at 6:30. We left, fully clothed, only to return at 1:30AM, without our clothes. Seeing their slender, beautiful daughter, naked with some kid, had to be an incredible shock to her parents.

I walked her from the driveway to her front door. It was locked because we violated curfew. Haley had knocked on the door and we both retreated to hide behind some shrubs. My plan was to get the hell out of there once Haley had contacted her mother and gotten inside the house.

Her mom opened the door, to find no one on the porch. The conversation went like this;

"Pist, Mom. Can you get me a coat. I'm cold."

Her mother said, "Well come inside. Why are you hiding?"

Haley said, "I lost my clothes. Someone stole them."

"Where's Josh?"

"He's out here too."

I had asked her to just go inside and not involve me. It would only make things worse if she were naked and with me.

"Does he have clothes on?"

Haley answered, "No. They stole his clothes too."

That's when Haley's dad came outside. "Helen, Wha da fuckis going on?" He asked. We could tell immediately that he'd been drinking.

Haley's mom explained; “Boyd, Haley and her boyfriend were saying their clothes had been stolen.”

"Whah dah fuck!" He said.

Haley said to me, "Josh, Let's just go to your house."

I imagine my mom would be more receptive to me bringing home a naked girl. She probably expected shit like that from me.

Haley's mom said, "No. Get in here; both of you!"

"I don't want Daddy to see me naked." Haley protested.

Boyd said, "Why not. Probably half the city has seen you naked." Anyone on the block could have heard Boyd announce his daughter’s nakedness. He was hot, and getting hotter.

But he didn't actually want to see his daughter naked, so he turned and went in the house while Mrs. S got a couple of coats from the closet and handed them to us in the bushes. She gave Haley a long coat, but I had just a short coat that really didn't cover my ass and my dick was sticking out. Having a girl's mother see your cock is not going to create a favorable impression. It was enough to get us in the house. Mrs. S got a pair of her husband's work pants for me, and a sweatshirt. Haley went to her room and put on some clothes. We were hoping that would be the end of it, but Mr. S called her down to the kitchen and told me to sit my ass down. That's when he threatened to cut my dick off and shove it down my throat. He was a big, rough guy, and I believed him.

Anyway, Haley and I tried to explain what had happened.

She told the story, the G-rated version.

"Josh and I went to the movies and afterward we were driving around talking." Partially true, we'd gone to the drive-in where we had necked furiously through the entire movie. Neither of us could remember what the flick was about. I was playing with her naked tits the entire time.

She continued, "After the movie, we drove around for a bit. We just like to drive around and talk about things." We were looking for a place to park. It was years ago, before cell-phones and the internet.

Haley continued, "You remember the old rock quarry out past Hooverville, where we would swim during the summers." Her mom and dad nodded. "I convinced Josh to go swimming. It was such a nice night and I remembered all the good times when you had taken us there when we were kids." She was sucking-up to them, playing the little daughter but not emphasizing that she went swimming while naked with her boyfriend.

I spoke up and said, "It was my idea to go swimming. It wasn't, but I was trying to shield Haley's honor.

She said, "No, it was my idea. We didn't have swim suits, so I convinced Josh we should skinny-dip. He didn’t want to, but finally gave in, because it was very dark and he didn’t want me to get hurt and not be able to help. We'd never done anything like that before.”

I hoped they believed it.

This part about it being her idea was true. When Haley suggested we both strip and go swimming, it actually didn't take me more than a second to agree.

We'd been to the drive-in movie. We'd gone there on dates half-a-dozen times. We'd graduated from just kissing to where I stripped Haley to the waist and spent a couple of hours playing with her fascinating tits. I took my shirt off too. I also had my hands in her pants, playing with her virgin pussy and rubbing her smooth, soft ass. I sucked her tits and put my fingers inside her. She pulled on my cock. She had gotten me off many times. She would use her hands to satisfy me, which avoided my urge to go further. She would come too. Her crotch would get so warm that I couldn't believe it. We steamed up the car windows, which obscured our view of the movie, but we didn't care. We were young and in love.

After the movie, we drove around as we said. The quarry she mentioned was a popular 'make-out' spot where teens like us would 'park'.

Haley continued telling her folks, "We were swimming, when a couple of guys saw our car and pulled up. Then they saw our clothes on the hood of Josh's car, and took them."

It was true. We were swimming in the cool deep water, and when a few guys we knew from school showed up. They knew my car.

"Hey Josh. What are you doing?" One of them said. It was a guy named Eddie.

He called a few times and I said, "I'm just taking a piss."

"Bullshit. Your clothes are on your car. Are you taking a piss or whacking off."

"Okay. I'm just swimming. I'll talk to you guys next week."

Eddie asked, "Are you alone?"

I said I was, but he said, "Well is this your bra and panties on the hood of your car."

I begged them to just be on their way, but they were enjoying their mastery of the situation.

"Who's with you?"

"None of your business. Please just leave us alone."

He said, "It must be Haley Summers in there with you. Her ID is in her jeans."

His friend john said, "She must be naked. I'd like to see that."

I said, "We are wearing swim suits (a lie)."

Carl, another of the guys said, "Why don't you two come out and say hello. You must be getting cold in that water."

It was true. The water was very cold. My dick had shriveled to the size of a peanut. We both had goosebumps and Haley's nipples were hard, like little pebbles. The banter went back and forth with them wanting us to come out and me trying to get them to go away. Haley asked them to please leave. I offered money, but they weren't interested and I didn't have much anyway. It was a stalemate, but we were in the losing position. We were shivering from the cold water.

Finally, they said, "We'll wait over here by our car while you two come out."

Haley was very cold and said, "Let them see. I really don't care. We won't see them again since school is over."

We had graduated and probably wouldn't cross paths with the three guys very often again, although two of them were juniors and would undoubtedly spread salacious stories around school next year. It pissed-me-off that they would say embarrassing things that might detract from Haley's reputation, but we had no options.

So, I went first. Haley hung back in the bushes. They had taken our clothes from the car hood, including my wallet and the car keys. I tried to talk them into returning my stuff, but they wouldn't do it. I was embarrassed, standing there naked. They'd seen me naked after gym class. Haley was the prize.

"We want to see Haley naked." Eddie said.

John said, "I want to see those titties of hers that she flaunts around school."

Haley was a very popular girl. She had a killer body and a nice set of boobs. Many young men drooled over her. She'd only started at our school for her senior year (and was 18), but had attracted many invitations for dates. She went out with a number of guys, but she wouldn't 'put out', so the more lecherous dudes left her alone. I was in American History class next to her, and asked her out in a moment of rare courage. She accepted and we had been 'going steady' for the last four months of the school year. As time went on, we did more and more, but she had limits and I proceeded very cautiously, not wanting to disrespect her; but damn, she made me hot. Haley was a young woman with glands and sexual desires too. We hadn't had sex. She was telling her daddy the truth. We sure were proceeding toward it though. She wanted to wait at least until we had graduated; and I had agreed.

Anyway, Haley finally had to walk out naked and the assholes shined a light on her, seeing her pretty naked body. She tried to cover-up, but with limited success. She had one hand covering her pussy, and the other arm over her breasts, but everything else was exposed. I'll bet they all went home and whacked-off, thinking about her. She stood there for a moment then hid behind my car. They wouldn't give us our clothes, but did return my wallet and keys and Haley's ID. Eddie put the items on a rock and then insisted that Haley walk over to get them. She was angry and embarrassed, but gave them their show. They could see her tits when she picked up the items. She dropped my wallet and needed both hands to hold everything, so the jerks had a glimpse of her pussy. They finally drove away with our clothes. I'm sure Haley's panties were their most popular trophy. They were wet with her scent, perfume and the secretions from her pussy during our hours at the drive-in.

Haley was upset. She knew an unknown number of boys would be fondling and sniffing her panties. I lamented my inability to recover them somehow. On the other hand, after a few minutes, Haley became highly aroused, over being exposed to other people. She didn't say anything but she was hot when I kissed her. It was our first hint of her exhibitionist tendencies.

Those guys had seen her naked, but I was the one taking her home.

Haley had told her mom and dad a sanitized version of the events at the quarry; she said; “Somebody stole our clothes but we hadn't seen who it was.”

Her dad wasn't satisfied and was skeptical of everything she had told them beyond the fact of Haley and I showing up naked at their door.

The tables Turn.

He ranted, "Helen, your daughter is going to get knocked-up, then what?" Haley had gotten into a good college and her dad was afraid she would get pregnant and mess up her future.

Helen said, "Boyd. She's not going to get pregnant. She'd told you she's not having sex with this boy. Why don't you believe her."

He said, "I know what goes on with kids these days."

She said, "They're smarter than we were."

He grumbled and Helen said, "Here you are yelling at this boy about whether he's doing the same things you did when you were his age. I don't think he's pressing her to have sex like you did with me."

Some family secrets were coming out. Haley looked at her mom.

Mrs. S said, "Go ahead, Boyd, tell your daughter how you begged me to let you screw me and how you got me pregnant and I had to quit college. Your daughter is smarter than I was."

Whoa, too much information, but it explained his suspicions.

Haley, angry with her dad, pushed the issue, "Daddy, did you have sex with Momma before you guys were married?"

Mr. Summers was being confronted by his daughter, tried to avoid answering, but she was agitated.

Helen volunteered, "They called it fucking back then, just like they do how. Tell them Boyd, how you had to marry me; or my daddy would've cut your dick off and shoved it down your throat."

Boyd was finally stymied. "We shouldn't be talking about this in front of Haley."

Haley said, "Jennie and I used to wonder about how Benjamin was born only five months after you guys got married. You told us he was premature. He sure was." Haley was laughing now. Her mom joined her. “No wonder you assume everybody does it! Truth is, you did it!”

It finally broke her daddy's angry mood and he began to laugh. “Go ahead, Helen, let your daughter know everything. Tell your daughter what a slut you were.”

Helen laughed too. She walked around the table and stepped behind Boyd, then slid her hands down inside the collar of his tee shirt; and said; "Your daddy couldn't keep it in his pants, once he met me. Damn right I was irresistible, wasn't I Boyd."

He just meekly said, "You were, oh boy, you were." Then he reached around and slapped her ass.

They realized they were saying too much. Boyd pulled Helen’s arm around and gathered her on his lap. The two parents seemed to lose interest in us kids. After a few minutes, Helen said, "We're going to bed. You kids can watch TV downstairs. Just keep quiet. See you tomorrow."

I sensed that they had urges to satisfy.

I was following Haley to the staircase when Boyd called me to the side and handed me something. It was a three-pack of condoms. He tried once more to put his game face on and said, "My warning stands."

They went off. Haley looked up at me from the bottom of the stairs, relieved that it was over, at least for now. Then, we reflected. Her parents had just confirmed they were going to leave us alone in the basement game room, and her dad had given me a 3-pack of rubbers. Haley laughed and asked me to help pull out the hide-a-bed. We found a movie on TV; another movie that we weren't going to watch. I got comfortable and she went back up to the kitchen to make popcorn.

I was sitting back on the hide-a-bed with my naked body under the sheet and quilt, thinking I was going to give Haley a delightful surprise. I was just watching the movie when I heard her coming, and looked her way when she reached the bottom of the stairs. She had a bowl of popcorn, but that was all. She was naked. I looked at her firm young breasts; her flat stomach with her sexy navel; the furry dark triangle of hair on her pussy; her toned thighs; her tanned legs; her glimmering long hair; her smile; and her pretty face. I was transfixed by the most wonderful thing I had ever seen. My very own girlfriend, naked and walking toward me.

She put down the refreshments and crawled up, straddling my lap and put her breasts in my face. I ran my hands over her back and her tender ass-cheeks. My cock was hard, of course and she soon discovered my complete state of undress. I nuzzled her breasts and licked her nipples.

I said, "Are you sure we should be doing this?"

She said, "Didn't you just hear them tell us they were going to leave us alone as long as we don't make too much noise?"

I wasn't sure they meant it that way, but I nodded. She moved down and pulled on the sheet. My horny young cock popped out.

I reached to the lamp table and got a condom. I started to open it.

"You don't need that." Haley said.

"Why not. I don't want your daddy to cut my dick off and shove it down my throat."

She said, "I'm on the pill. Momma took me to the doctor last month. She said she couldn't tell me what to do anymore since I was an adult; and that I should never be dependent on some horny boy having a rubber when he needs it; or pulling out of my pussy before he comes."

I was experiencing a lot of new surprises, tonight. I just looked at Haley, speechless.

"Momma told me not to tell Daddy. He doesn't know. It would upset him so much. I think he wants me to stay his little girl until I’m past menopause!"

Haley leaned in and kissed me passionately. I had one hand on her soft tit, and my other hand on her soft ass. Then she decided to move straight to the feature presentation. She slid her pelvis down onto me, using her hand to guide my straining cock into her smooth, warm vagina.

It was the first time for both of us, and it felt marvelous, like nothing I had ever experienced. My Cock was squeezed in the

Why Should I Help Her? Part 2

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Sun, 07 Jun 2026 04:27:00 +0000

Why Should I Help Her: Part 2

Is anyone keeping track of the favors owed?

Based on a post by Millsy, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.

"Oh fuck!" I groaned as she sucked harder, her tongue lapping at the underside of my thrusting cock inside her mouth, her teeth raking at the firm, taut flesh near the swinging balls that slapped against her chin with each inward lunge.

More drool spilled out of her mouth, falling from her chin and splashing onto the floor. My cock was spasming inside her mouth, my balls were contracting, almost pulsing as I struggled to stop the dam from bursting.

Normally, when I know there's a chance – however remote – of getting my leg over, I prepare myself for just such an opportunity. Usually that means popping one of the little blue helpers that turn you from a red faced premature ejaculator if you haven't been laid for a while, to a virtual demigod between the sheets. I think it must be an age thing. Under forty; you'll probably be fine. But over forty, like I was; you might find that a little insurance sometimes pays dividends when it comes to getting invited back for a return bout of energetic sheet rumpling.

The preparation is a two-stage process. The night before the big date you have to carefully 'edge' using your favorite method of arousal – usually internet chat where I'm concerned. Edging, incidentally, is where you repeatedly take yourself to the brink of ejaculation and then back off which makes it much more intense when you do eventually need the Kleenex.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking – that you'll most likely end up jerking off with some fat, nineteen stone hairy and sweat-stinking trucker from Wisconsin; pretending his name is Britney or Paula or something equally androgynous.

You probably are, as most such chat site users are male. But the trick is to put this out of your mind, immerse yourself in the roleplay, and quickly disconnect after you've come before the transgendered asshole who has just made a passable attempt at femininity laughs at you; and tells you his name is actually Brian or Paul; and you've just been cyber-raped.

This means that your excess of stored semen has been flushed, and your body is not so easily aroused next time around. The result of which is that you'll probably be able to last a while longer when you're in the company of a member of the opposite sex. The downside is that the sudden shock of ejaculation can leave you feeling drained and fatigued for a day or two, depending on your age; which means there's the potential for the horrors of going flaccid while on the job the next night.

When you get to my age, which is 44 incidentally; and you still have a normal build, all your hair, and youthful features, your date might not be expecting it, and get mightily pissed off with you going all soft on her.

Enter Viagra.

I absolutely love the stuff. Forget first night performance anxiety. Forget the worries of blowing your load before your date is ready for it. Forget any sexual hang-ups you might have. After popping a bluey, wait an hour and then just throw yourself into the act. Don't worry about it not working, as worrying about it not working usually leads to it not working anyway, and just make sure you give the girl a damn good time. It's not unusual for me to able to keep it rock hard and banging away for over an hour with proper preparation, and while £7 a night (buy from a reputable supplier, folks!, cut a 100mg tab in half so you get 8 hits for £60) might sound expensive for a date, when you think about it it's an absolute fucking bargain. No pun intended. And even if you do finish too soon, you're ready to go again in next to no time. The trouble is, Viagra has specific requirements that you have to factor into your preparation.

First there's the wait of at least thirty minutes, perhaps longer, before the stuff kicks in, and then there's the relatively short duration that the stuff is active for. On the tin it says you can get 4-5 hours of fun on one tab, so you have to time your ingestion accordingly. If you're going out on a date at seven in the evening, and you're not expecting to get back to her place until near midnight, or even later if you're heading to a club, then you're cutting it fine. Make a visit to the loo about an hour before you expect to be heading home and then pop the pill. An additional benefit of this approach is that if the date is turning into a disaster then you can save the tab for the next time and leave it in your pocket.

Secondly, if you set aside the risk of sudden instantaneous death that the leaflet inside the box tells you might be a 'side-effect', there's the rather irritating fact that Viagra does not seem to work on a full stomach, or if you've been eating fatty foods. The reason for that is that the vitamin V sits on the food in your stomach, or floats on the greasy deposits, and does not get absorbed into the lining of your stomach and from there into your bloodstream. Another negative is that consuming alcohol inhibits its effects. So if your date is a dinner, or drinks, or both, then Viagra's not a great deal of use to you. If I'd had any inking that Jo would be slobbering all over my balls tonight then I wouldn't have taken Viagra anyway and instead gone for something a little more versatile.

That's where Cialis comes in. Cialis is a step up from Viagra in that Cialis lets you eat and drink (in moderation of course) and still get a raging hard on afterwards. Your erection is not quite as powerful as a Viagra enhanced one, so you don't tend to be able to hammer the nail home for quite so long before ejaculating, but it’s good enough to make your performance between the sheets significantly better than if you just trusted in nature. And it lasts for a day and a half which is great for weekends, so your second ride is even better than the first, your third time in the saddle is even better than the second, and so on until your heart eventually explodes from the non-stop strain and you die with a great big smile on your face when your final ejaculation detonates your brain and your aorta simultaneously. While sudden instantaneous death isn't a side effect stated on the leaflet inside a box of Cialis, don't let that omission fool you as it’s easy to get carried away when you're in God mode between the sheets.

Levitra I haven't yet tried but fully intend to because it is reportedly less susceptible to stomach content and alcohol intake and also lasts for around 24 hours. Again the erection quality isn't quite up there in comparison with Viagra, so I have read, but I reckon it should be good enough to do the job for me as I take it for performance enhancement rather than for rigidity restoration, if you get my drift.

However, my problem today was that I had been completely unprepared for the mind blowing blowjob that Joanne was giving me. I had assumed since the day I had taken her and her sister to the hospital that she was not in the least bit interested in me physically. Maybe she wasn't and this was just a particularly unusual but certainly welcome method of repayment and I was merely worrying myself over nothing because she wouldn't be expecting me to shag her arse off afterwards anyway. This was just a blow and go. She feeds me dinner, I feed her a protein shake, then get shown the door. I win regardless. Twice, in fact.

As such I found that I couldn't hold myself back once the familiar sensations started to build in my loins. I tried doing what Frankie says and relaxing, but that didn't stem the tide at all. I tried clenching my PC muscle, but that just seemed to make things worse. In the end I just threw back my head, gritted my teeth, felt my toes curl up as the cum pump kicked in and let the tide sweep me away.

Joanne intensified her cock sucking, her cheeks hollowing with the power of the suction that she was torturing me with.

She tightened her fist around the thick root of my twitching prick and urgently began to stroke my thick, veiny shaft firmly, quickly tugging at the tautly wrapped skin in synchronization with the suction of her lips and the frenzied thrusts of my hips.

"Oh shit!" I gasped, figuring that it was only fair that I give her advanced warning of what I was about to do so that she could act accordingly depending on her personal preferences. "I'm gonna cum!"

My cock stiffened even further in her mouth, the grip of my fingers in her hair undoubtedly painful, then I cried out as the first spurt of jizz exploded out of the tip of my knob and splattered against the roof of her mouth. She stopped sucking and just held me there inside her mouth, her right hand frantically jacking off my cock to get every last drop of cum out of my rapidly draining balls.

Thick ropes of greasy semen sprayed everywhere inside her mouth, each shot heralded with another guttural cry of ecstasy as it seared its way up my shaft before it fountained into the dark, damp, welcoming cavern of her mouth where she swallowed it all down without making any noise at all.

I felt like I had ejaculated a river into Jo's suckling mouth.

I slumped back in the chair as she separated her mouth from my cock with a final tender kiss, my eyes partially unfocussed as she emerged from under the table, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. "Jesus Christ, Jo." I stammered. "That was unexpected."

"But good?"

"Holy shit yes. Unbelievable." I said as she stood beside me and settled herself sideways down on my lap, her arms snaking around my neck. My arms slid around her back, fingers finding the seam where the zipper ran down her spine. I ran my fingers up to the top. "That was so good I think I'm going to have to thank you in the same kind of way." I breathed as I began to unzip her dress.

"Oh goody, that's my favorite thing." She smiled, her eyes sparkling as our gazes locked.

"You said that was your sister's idea?" I asked, puzzled.

Jo started giggling manically. "When we were in the car driving to the hospital the day after my car broke down, she whispered to me that if I didn't give you a blowjob as a thank you then she would. I saw you glance in the mirror then and thought you'd heard her."

"No." I said, shaking my head wryly. "I didn't hear a thing." Boy, did I grasp the wrong end of the stick that day. A sudden pang of regret for a wasted fortnight of non-stop fucking and sucking hit me hard.

"Bedroom or sofa?" I eventually asked, not wanting to waste any more precious going down time.

"Up to you." She shrugged as the zip stopped at her waist and my fingers glided up her bare back to worry the catch of her bra.

"I'm wondering if I should just carry on eating at the table." I grinned up at her.

She glanced behind her, an eyebrow raised. "That'll be different." She laughed. "And it's so uncivilized eating on the sofa, anyway."

"Breakfast in bed sounds good, though."

"Don't push your luck, mister." Joanne laughed. "We've both got work tomorrow."

"I was thinking more along the lines of having you for breakfast. I tend to have a very firm sausage when I wake up."

"I look forward to tasting it." She quipped back. God, she was turning me on so much just talking that I could feel myself getting hard already, and that's without the aid of a comprehensive insurance policy provided by vitamin-v. The thought of burying my face between her thighs was also helping to restore my rigidity. Eating cunt always does that to me. I don't know if it's the taste, the smell, the liquid feel or merely the thought of swirling my tongue inside a hot, wet cunt that turns me on so much. What I do know is that if I were a woman I'd be one very, very giving lesbian.

I picked her up and carefully lowered her down onto the table on her back. It felt sturdy enough – no creaking or swaying as I settled her down upon it. She looked absolutely stunning lying on her back in that black dress, legs parted and hanging off the edge of the table to either side of me. The hem of her skirt had already ridden halfway up her thighs from when she had been sat on my lap, and her shoulders were bare because the dress was by this time fully unzipped at the back. Her skin was pale, smooth, unblemished, and I noted that she'd kicked off her shoes when she'd been under the table sucking me off. All she was wearing were three items of clothing – bra, panties and dress, and it was my next target to make it just two garments. Those panties weren't going to be hiding her twat much longer. Her ass was right on the edge of the table. It was going to be easy to divest her of those. One quick tug and they would be on the floor.

But that was too easy. Too fast. I wanted to make this last. I ran my fingers lightly up and down her calves, tracing a figure of eight around her knees, my lips lightly brushing the insides of her thighs. Joanne moaned, and a hand tangled in my hair, encouraging me to take things further. My fringe touched the hem of her skirt and I quickly brought my hands up to Joanne's flanks, easing the skirt up around her waist. She lifted her ass up off the table, helping me to expose her skimpy satin black briefs.

I kissed the smooth fabric, halfway between her navel and her twat, and heard her sigh softly, dreamily, as my hands continued on upward, palms brushing over the dress where it concealed the swell of her breasts. I felt one of her hands close over one of mine, crushing it down upon her right tit. I squeezed the boob firmly, my kisses moving downwards, lips pressing just as insistently upon the hot, already damp patch where her cunt juices had seeped into her panties. I love that taste.

She moved my hand up her body, used my fingers to pull her dress down to expose her impressive rack, the dress little more now than a scrap of black fabric wrapped around her waist, and I hooked my fingers in the cup of her bra and pulled it down to reveal a hardened nipple that I then mercilessly tweaked with my fingertips, making Jo gasp.

My hand closed over Jo's right breast, fingers squeezing it, thumb stroking the nub of the teat. I leaned over her, studying the swell of her tits while she gazed up at me dreamily, my fingers now caressing the nipple that I had just pinched as if I were soothing it.

My mouth descended into the broad valley between the twin mounds, then I turned my head to the left and flicked out my tongue, coating a portion of the nipple with my warm saliva. Jo shivered beneath me, then gasped as she felt my teeth raking across the bud. My tongue flicked between my teeth over the tiny teat, circling it wetly, swirling around it, lapping at it, all the while squeezing the heavy, fleshy mound firmly with my left hand.

Jo arched her back, pushing her breast up at my hungry mouth, and felt her nipple become trapped between a thumb and a forefinger, felt those fingers rolling the bud between them, pulling at it, stretching her breast from a flattened circle to a pointed cone.

"Ah" She breathed, then cried out again louder; as my fingers were replaced with teeth that maintained the tension.

The hand that had been crushing her tit and pinching the nipple deftly unclasped her bra, then slid down her flanks to her hips, then glided lightly inward. My teeth released the teat, but I then crushed as much of the breast into my mouth and began to suck hard on the red, swollen boob, my tongue lashing roughly against the trapped bud.

While my left hand lazily traced circles on Jo's taut, flat stomach, my right hand moved up to her left breast and began to treat it in the same manner as I had earlier done with the other boob. First I pushed the unfastened bra aside, then I caressed the entire breast lovingly, then I began to pull upon it with my fingers while slurping, nibbling and chewing upon the nipple of the one that was still locked inside my mouth. I could feel the heat and the wetness of Jo's cunt against my hardening cock as she squirmed and writhed beneath me. The woman was bucking her crotch against my recovering cock, almost humping the solidifying flesh that pressed against her silk covered pubis, moaning loudly and spreading her thighs even wider, reveling in the pressure that she was feeling against her warm, wet cunt. One firm, fluid movement that brought naught but a sharp intake of breath from Joanne and the black satin panties lay on the floor.

Jo smiled in anticipation as she watched me move down between her legs. She felt a pair of hands grab hold of the insides of her thighs and wrench them as far apart as they could go. She trembled despite, or perhaps because of, the warm breath washing over her cunt as I studied the smooth contours of her freshly shaved fanny intently.

I dipped my face between Jo's thighs, hands sliding around to grab her ass cheeks roughly and open her cunt to my tongue. I swept my tongue over Jo's clit and instantly Jo arched her back high and gurgled dreamily.

My hands held tightly onto her ass cheeks when she bucked them up off the tablecloth and adjust her position slightly for the tongue that then snaked out from my parted lips and speared between the lips of her cunt hole.

I slid a finger between Jo's cunt lips and rubbed her clitoral hood with firm, quick, minimal movements of my fingertip. Joanne moaned into her fist as the rapid-fire vibrations against her clit thundered through her body and mind, making her shudder uncontrollably from head to toe, her body racked by sheer delight.

"Jesus!" Jo gasped, shivering in delight as I furiously diddled her clit, the soaking wet cunt sliding back and fore over my face as she squirmed beneath me.

"You like that?" I breathed, now sliding my finger in and out of the gaping gash that opened beneath my touch like a pink flower. "You like having your hot, wet cunt finger-fucked?"

"Oh fuck," was all Jo could reply as she shuddered beneath my touch.

"Answer me!" I snapped, slapping my palm hard against Jo's bald cunt, the noise echoing around the room, drowning out the sounds of Robbie Williams crooning through some inane pop song. "Are you deaf? Answer me, Jo!" I hissed again, giving the denuded snatch another short, sharp, stinging smack.

"Yes!" Jo hissed back. I grinned, focusing all my attention on the bubbling clitoral hood beneath my fingers, making Jo shake and shudder, her legs scissoring wildly. I bent my head back down to the object of my desire, my warm breath washing over the damp, sweating cunt that twitched and vibrated beneath my touch.

I pressed my tongue flatly against her pubic mound, sweeping my tongue in a circle near the fingertip that maintained its relentless high-speed rubbing.

"Hmm" She moaned. "Open me up with your fingers and tongue fuck me."

Not one to argue with a lady, un

Why Should I Help Her? Part 1

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Sat, 06 Jun 2026 04:26:00 +0000

Why Should I Help Her: Part 1

How I met Jo and how she got me in the sack.

Based on a post by Millsy, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.

It was one of those god-awful early springtime evenings where all you want to do is just boot the pedal to the metal, to get yourself home. And have a good old drink; in order to forget about all the shit that you had to wade through during the day, in order to pay the bills and keep the wolf from the door.

It was near freezing again despite it being mid-March. The rain was falling so damn hard that you could actually see it bouncing off the pavement in little explosions as you drove gingerly through rush hour traffic. The windscreen wipers were turning the blurry world into a not so blurry world every second or so. The sweep of the blades now turned up to top speed so that the thud-thud-thud of the blades competed with the rattle of the torrential downpour against the metal roof of the car. I had to turn the stereo up just to hear it, and that's saying something when you're listening to ACDC performing Razor's Edge.

It took all my concentration just to maintain my distance to the glowing tail lights of the car ahead. If you rear end somebody in these conditions then you could kiss goodbye to your no claims bonus; and I really didn't need that worry on top of everything else right now.

I had enough on my plate what with the pressures of work during yet another recession, an increasingly messy divorce, not to mention keeping myself financially afloat while juggling the upwardly spiraling expenses of daily life, family law lawyers and an eye-watering consent order that made me seriously wonder if I should have employed a more expensive solicitor after all. Well, I mused, when you do things on the cheap, you sure as hell end up paying the price over the longer term.

Much like the owner of that car pulled over to the side of the road with its hazards on, I noted. Poor bastard, stood beside it under an umbrella while the driving rain and stormy winds tried to turn it inside out.

Then, as I got closer, my fatigue numbed brain registered a vague familiarity with the number plate on the silver Ford Fiesta. The car came from the bottom of my own street, near the corner shop, I dimly realized.

My foot lifted off the throttle without me even consciously willing it to do so, and I cruised past, glancing to the side to see that the forlorn figure by the roadside was indeed the woman that lived in the old house two doors down from my buddies Brian and Sam. I racked my brain for her name, but it wouldn't come.

And then I was past, leaving her standing forlornly in the downpour, as I made my way home to my nice warm house; less than a hundred yards from where she lived.

Guilt. That's what hit me. Some people would have just laughed and carried on. Some would have swerved at the puddle forming in the gutter near where she stood, cruelly attempting to soak her even further. Most people just didn't bother giving her a second glance, such is society these days.

As I drove on, putting more distance between myself and the stranded driver. I was getting closer and closer to my own home and the oven and the fridge stocked with Carling.

I noted that the guilt refused to subside and instead grew more and more insistent.

"Fuck." I spat, as Brian Johnson half growled, half screeched his way through the final bars of Thunderstruck. I shook my head at the coincidence then I indicated right into a cul-de-sac, three-point turned my Opel Zafira, and then rejoined the main road heading back toward work.

I passed the woman again, still standing there in the rain, and went all the way around the roundabout half a mile further on, before doubling back homeward once more, finally pulling my car in, just in front of the broken down Ford Fiesta.

See what I mean about buying cheap, only to have to spend more later on? Ford. ‘Found-on-roadside, Dead.’ A mechanic had once told me that as he laughed at my misfortune, as he continued to quote me an outrageous estimate for a replacement clutch for a three year old Mondeo. ‘Fixed-or-repaired-daily’. That's why I drove a Vauxhall, until my recent move to a German brand.

Yeah, all right. Stop laughing. It had been a great little British-made car. A little too big for me now that I'm single again, though.

I got out of the Zaffy, instantly regretting my decision as the rain immediately plastered my hair to my forehead and glued my shirt to my shoulders, I dragged my raincoat from the back seat and pulled it on as I hurried to the stranded driver's side.

"Avondale Street, right?" I asked, as she eyed me up suspiciously, then her face changed.

Maybe she recognized me. I was just a face to her, somebody who may have smiled at her, or nodded to her while I walked my dog. Or more likely she remembered me as some complete asshole who had leered drunkenly at her over Brian and Sam's garden fence, when they were having one of their weekend barbecues. Which was an almost annual occurrence down here in Cornwall.

"Yeah." She eventually said. "I know you. Black Labrador, right?"

"No no." I said, grinning. "I'm just his owner. Lewis is at home wondering why dinner is late and chewing on the table leg by now, I expect."

She blinked long and hard at that. Okay?

"Problem?" I asked.

I was going to say ‘Lovely evening for a walk.’ But something told me she wasn't really in the mood for levity. In her sodden but sensible shoes I doubted I'd be up for much of a laugh, either.

She shrugged. "The Auto Club are on their way. Should be here in five minutes."

"No point in me having a look, then." I frowned. Thank fuck, I didn't say out loud. What I knew about cars could fill a post-it note. On one side. And there'd be room for doodles.

"What happened?" I finally inquired.

Another nonchalant shrug. "Bloody thing started to make crunching noises. Then it wouldn't go into gear. Now I just get a grinding noise when I try to change up or down."

Now that sounded expensive. I winced, the best expression of sympathy I could muster. "Look, it's pouring down here. Come and wait in my car until the Auto Club arrives."

"I thought we weren't supposed to stay in the car, just in case another vehicle hits it?"

"That's why I'm a good thirty feet in front. If something hits the back of your car, we'll be fine in mine." I explained.

Her hesitation lasted a split second, and while we were walking back to my car I felt another emotion; regret. The woman was going to get my passenger seat, soaking wet.

"Jesus Christ, of all the fucking days for this to happen." She whined as she put down her umbrella and slid into my car.

I'd heard women swear before, plenty of times. These days, all teenage girls do is communicate by swearing and text messages, usually mixing the two together. But coming from her, it was a bit of a shock. If you're of my generation then you might remember listening to squeaky clean, chaste and lovely Whitney Houston (rest in peace), using the word 'fuck' in the movie 'The Bodyguard' and felt shock that such a vulgar word could come from such a mouse-like celebrity. This was just such a moment.

Women in their mid-thirties are supposed to be a little more adult about the use of such an adjective, or so I assumed. Okay, some women you learn to expect it, like the ones with a cig in hand and a pint of cider in front of them, down the bottom club on a Saturday night. Or the fat cows pushing prams around Primark in professional chav shoplifting gangs. But not this smartly-dressed, bespectacled, professional-looking lady. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for a dirty word now and then, but I prefer it kept between the sheets, personally.

"How long have you been waiting?" I asked.

"Half an hour," She said, glancing at a dainty gold watch on her wrist. "The Auto Club man said he'd be here by now."

"Things tend to drag on days like this. Traffic's heavier at this time of day. Then also, people drive slower because of the weather. Accidents snarl up the roads because some idiots don't drive slower, and screw rush hour up for the rest of us. He'll be here soon enough."

"I hope they can fix it. I need that car tomorrow." She had a worried tone in her voice.

‘Don't hold your breath, honey,’ I managed to choke back, giving her a sympathetic smile instead. Crunching, grinding noises and a locked up gearbox? Dream on. Even someone with my miniscule mechanical knowledge could work out that the odds of that car getting back on the road for tomorrow weren't very promising. I'd get better odds gambling on Lewis Hamilton for the 2012 Formula One title. And that's a pretty dumb thing to be putting your money on with Jenson Button on top form.

"Thanks, by the way." She said, breaking the silence.

I'm not one of life's great conversationalists. I'm quick with a quip, but keeping a discussion going isn't one of my strengths. I find it really hard work, thinking of the next thing to say.

My ex-wife used to say I had a minimalist approach to human interaction and she was probably right. I guess that comes from being a bit of a solitary guy, working on my own, living by myself for years before marrying. And now back by myself after failing at the marriage lark, because I was much happier living by myself. Probably because we ran out of things to say halfway through the damn honeymoon.

How women can sit there and talk for hours-on-end, totally baffles me.

"No problem." I eventually managed to mumble. "I drove past you once." I continued, impressing myself with my repartee. "I recognized your car first, then you as I slowed down, so I turned around and came back."

"It's a silver Fiesta." She said, surprised. "There's like a billion of them."

"The number plate." I explained. "I pass it every morning on my way out."

"Ah." She wasn’t convinced.

"I have this game I play by myself, to keep my brain from falling asleep while I drive." I said, trying to fill the silence. "I make up acronyms from the three letter sequence on license plates. My company is big on using acronyms."

"So what does mine mean? SHB?"

Oh fuck. This was embarrassing. I could feel myself reddening as she turned to look at me. I made a show of glancing into the rear view mirror, willing the Auto Club repair man to arrive. They called themselves the fourth emergency service, and I sure as hell needed them right fucking now to pull me out of the hole that I had just dug for myself. Beam me up Scotty, dammit!

I smiled weakly. "Ah, it's silly."

"Even better." She laughed. It was a nice laugh, too.

I racked my brains trying to think of something to say. I couldn't tell her that the three letters meant Sexy Hot Babe. That would totally kill the mood, send her shooting out the door and running for the hills. I shook my head from side to side and screwed up my features as I desperately stalled for time, my brain working feverishly with the letters scrabbling around between my reddening ears.

"Oh come on. I could do with a laugh, after today." She pressed.

"Schwarzenegger has biceps." I finally blurted. Oh God, ground open up and swallow me down now. That was so lame. I knew it. From her face, I could tell, so did she.

Before she could say anything, I saw the flashing amber strobe lights pulling up behind her care. Ten seconds too fucking late, I raged.

"They're here." I told her, and we both bailed out of my car and into the raging storm.

Twenty minutes later we were both back in my car, somewhat worse for wear, and she was not very happy about that. No way was her car going to be on the road for a good while, the Auto Club man had shrugged apologetically. Could be the clutch, could be the gearbox. Could be both. Maybe even the flywheel, he'd said.

It would have to be towed to a garage, he told her. And he could do that right now before the garages closed for the night, or he could take her and the vehicle to her destination and leave the car there for her to commiserate and sort out the recovery. But he couldn't do both. Not at her level of cover, he explained. Sorry and all that.

I thought that was a bit off, personally. I thought they could take you to the nearest garage, then take you home, but maybe things have changed. He wasn't actually an Auto Club man. As the Auto Club were too busy with a surge of breakdowns they had called in a local recovery service to meet their response targets, Maybe these freelancers operated to slightly different rules, but whatever the reason behind the confusion she ultimately ended up back in my car, steam rising from her clothing, not to mention coming out her ears.

"I'm Jim, by the way." I said as I pulled off into the stream of traffic, leaving the Auto Club wannabe to load her Fiesta up onto the flatbed of his truck.

"Jo," She replied distractedly. I remembered that she said she really needed the car for the next day and decided to shut my gob, leaving her trying to figure out how she was going to work around that. Maybe she was panicking about the cost of a gearbox. A refurbished one could cost near half a grand. I drove on in silence. Well, aside from the hammering of rain on the roof and the dull thud of the windscreen wipers. The ACDC CD remained muted. She didn't look like a rock chick. "Goodbye and Good Riddance to Bad Luck" didn't seem quite appropriate at that time, either.

I glanced her way occasionally as I drove. There was a reason why I had given her car the moniker 'Sexy Hot Bitch' for the SHB in her registration plate. She was a nicely built specimen of womanhood. Mid-thirties, short brown hair with a hint of artificial red tinge, long narrow glasses that she made look incredibly sexy the way some women do with spectacles. Not skinny, but not fat, either. Full figured, I guess you could call it, with a nice set of curves hidden beneath her wet clothes, and I'm talking bust and hips there.

A sensuous mouth and deep green eyes highlighted her face, and her pale complexion seemed to fluoresce the muted red gloss on her lips. She reminded me a little of Kate Bush in her Red Shoes phase.

All too soon the drive was over, having passed by in almost total silence, and I pulled up outside Brian's house. She looked up suddenly from her mobile phone where she had been busily composing a text message, surprised to find herself home already, and hurriedly gathered together the things she had retrieved from her car before the pretend Auto Club man could tow it away.

"Thanks." She said with a half smile as she got out of the car and braved the ten yard dash to her front door.

"No prob..." The slam of the car door as she closed it behind her cut off the rest of my response.

Ah well.

I drove up the hill, parked across the road from my house because one of next door's three DSS-financed death trap bangers was parked right outside my front door, and glanced at the damp passenger seat. Idly, I put my hand on the fabric to test how wet it was, and felt a comfortable warmth through my fingers from where Jo's ass had warmed up the seat.

Strangely, for no conscious reason that I could think of, I allowed my hand to linger there a while, until the temperature stabilized. Then I headed in and poured myself a drink.

Schwarzenegger has biceps? Doh!

I slapped my forehead as I tossed my car keys onto the dining table and made a bee line for the mini bar – which the less alcoholically indulged amongst you might instead call a refrigerator – pausing only to ruffle Lewis' fur while he wagged his tail expecting walkies. He could forget that tonight.

Sexy Hot Bitch

Super Hot Babe

Stunning Horny Bint

Sucking Her Boobs

Scrumptious Heavy Breasts

Stretching her bra.

Stripping her bare.

Jesus, they were coming thick and fast now, like my semen when I had fantasized about Jo last summer, I recalled, but I still couldn't fucking use them, I laughed out loud as the ring pull on the can succumbed with a short, loud hiss. I didn't bother with a glass, just necked the top third of the can down without breathing, then slammed it down on the kitchen worktop and opened a can of Chum for Hamilton.

Spanking her butt.

I rolled my eyes, feeling myself beginning to stiffen at the mental imagery my wordplay was creating.

Stroking her body.

Screwing her box

My prick was getting harder and fucking harder. I distracted myself by rummaging around the freezer, then slammed a TV dinner into the microwave, taking a long pull from the can that drained it down to halfway while the turntable turned and the magnetron fan roared.

Shagging her behind.

Slamming hard butt-fuck

For fuck sake stop it! I commanded myself, then flicked on the telly to catch what was left of the news while waiting for dinner to ping. I settled down for the night, eventually running out of SHB acronyms when I got to shaving her bush. Emmerdale was endured. Corrie was switched off. An old film, Maximum Overdrive, came on one of the Sky channels around 9 o'clock, and as I was settling in to enjoy the deaths of dozens of Americans on a malfunctioning highway drawbridge the doorbell rang and Lewis jumped up from under the dinner table and padded out into the hallway.

Outside stood Jo, umbrella held aloft. I blinked in surprise. Lewis sat on his haunches, not wanting to venture outside tonight, his tail sweeping the laminate hallway flooring enthusiastically as he looked up at her, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth and panting.

I knew just how he felt.

"You must really like standing out in the rain." I smiled. "Come on in