Connected Podcast

My Sheep Girl: Part 2

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Sat, 29 Aug 2026 02:10:00 +0000

My Sheep Girl: Part 2.

She seems so familiar?

Based on a post by SquattingEagle. Listen to the ►Podcast at Explicit Novels.

The girl was shivering in my arms as the cool night breeze chilled the damp skin of her back. Although I wouldn’t mind fooling around a little more, I didn’t want her to catch a cold, or worse. I was feeling around for her sweater when my hand landed on something soft and furry. Picking it up, I recognized it as the woolly tail the girl had been wearing around her waist. At some point while we were having sex, the ribbon had come undone and the tail fell off.

“You've lost your thingy” I said.

“My thingy?”

“Here” I said, giving her the furry tail.

“My lucky tail; Here, you keep it,” she whispered, “and think of me.” She handed it back to me and gave me one more kiss. After the kiss, her lips stayed near mine, as if she was hesitating. “But; If you want; I'd; really like to spend the night with you”

‘Spend the night’ didn’t mean just more sex, it also implied waking up together. It was as close to asking me who I was as was allowed. It meant I wasn’t the only one who felt something special had happened here tonight.

“Little lamb, I wouldn’t want anything else” I whispered, “But; I can’t. Not yet. There’s something I have to do first; I…” I didn’t know what to say, how could I tell this girl that I loved her, but that I first had to dump my girlfriend of three years, and not sound like a complete douchebag?

I tucked the wooly tail in my pocket and got up. We didn’t say another thing while we dressed ourselves and reluctantly got ready to part. I hesitated to let her go while her identity was still a complete mystery to me.

“I…” I started.

“Shush” she said, laying her finger on my lips. “It’s okay, I understand; But, if you change your mind, I’ll be waiting for you in Old Jim's barn. And please, for God’s sake, be quiet” she whispered. Then she stepped back and disappeared into the darkness. She was gone, and I missed her already. Almost immediately she reemerged and gave me one last sincerely affectionate kiss. Then she disappeared for good, and I was alone.

After I had gathered my belongings, I sat down on the rock wall and replayed her words, digesting them and making sure I remembered them correctly. Despite its obvious intention, it was a strange request. Old Jim, or uncle Jim as we called him at home, was a grumpy old bastard who was known to chase people off his property with a loaded shotgun. He was my mother’s uncle and I knew him well, so he probably wouldn’t shoot me, but the girl couldn’t know that. Why then would she ask me to go to such a perilous place? Was she testing me? Did I have to prove my valor by risking my life to be with her? Or had my rejection angered her and was she now playing a cruel trick on me?

Then another idea came to mind. What if she had chosen Jim’s barn because she knew nobody would look there but me? It was the option I liked best, but I knew there was only one way to learn her true reasons, and that was to spend the night together and ask her in the morning. It was another reason on my already long list to go there, but before I could allow myself to take one step in the direction of Old Jim’s barn, I had to find Amanda.

Suddenly, I was feeling terribly guilty. I had cheated on my long-time girlfriend. Even if Amanda turned out not to be my true love after all, I still betrayed her when I had sex with that gorgeous lamb. It was an act I disapproved of wholeheartedly, despised even, and I could not understand what had come over me to let myself go like that. What made my infidelity even worse was that I didn’t regret it, and longed to do it again. Making love with the little blonde, even as rushed and anonymous as it had been, was so much more intimate and passionate than it had ever been with Mandy. It had been everything I yearned for these last months, and much, much more.

I decided that first, I had to find Amanda and figure out my feelings for her. Only if there really was nothing worth salvaging, and I had formally broken up with her, would I allow myself to think about that other girl again. The only problem was time. I had no idea who the little lamb was or where she lived, I only knew that she would be waiting for me at uncle Jim’s barn. It meant I had to hurry if I wanted to see her again. Who knows how long an angel would wait for someone like me? Half an hour? An hour? Two?

One thing was clear; if I wasted too much time looking for Amanda, the identity of the blonde goddess would remain a mystery forever. With renewed determination to find my girlfriend, I fastened my duffel coat and hurried off into the darkness. Having already checked all the familiar places, I decided to revisit the ones I checked first, in case I had missed her before. My first stop should be somewhere nearby; a small forest known as Jack’s grove. Hidden in the heart of that dense group of trees was a little pond and next to it a patch of mossy grass. It was one of our dearest spots on the island. It was there, on that secluded pasture, that Mandy and I had made love for the first time. It was also where I had found Mandy on our first night of sheep-shaggin’, three years ago.

When I first visited that place, there was a dressed-up girl hiding by the pool. A lamb I initially thought to be Mandy, had it not been for the stale taste of cigarettes on her lips and a coldness in her kiss. While I was still undecided, she quickly broke off the kiss and a resolute bleating sealed her rejection. That was three hours ago, but it felt like years had passed since.

It took me a while to figure out where I was exactly, but then I was off. Running most of the way, I made it to Jack’s grove in under ten minutes. As I neared my destination, I heard the sound of male voices hollering in the dark. I decided to check out the source of the commotion and headed in the direction of the voices. Maybe I’d find one of my mates, or someone who might know Amanda’s whereabouts. A couple of yards ahead, I discovered the clamor of voices originated from inside Jack’s grove.

As I made my way through the trees, the hollering fell silent for a brief moment. No longer drowned out by the loud male voices, I could now hear a series of hoarse moans. It was a girl who was doing the moaning, and she sounded suspiciously much like Mandy. I could not yet see what was going on inside the clearing, but the noises that echoed in the forest left little to the imagination. The loud, lustful moaning was cut off by muffled gagging and slurping noises, and accompanied by the rapid, repetitive sound of flesh slapping against flesh.

At last, I reached the opening in the forest, and the source of the racket. As I looked through the trees, I saw the small patch of mossy grass was illuminated by the soft glow of a kerosene lamp. Carrying a lantern or flashlight was expressly forbidden by the unwritten rules of sheep-shaggin’, but I did not care about that, because it allowed me to see what was going on. There were at least thirty guys standing in a semicircle, drinking beer and scratching their balls as they gazed at the lewd display that was taking place next to the pond. Peering through the group of men, I saw a glimpse of not one, but two naked girls, one of them being Amanda. She was on all fours and had her head buried between another girl’s long, shapely legs, while some fat guy was fucking her hard from behind.

I quietly crawled through the brush to the other side of the pond and hid there in the darkness. From this position I had an unobstructed view of the action across the water. There was no mistake, the girl was Mandy. The legs wrapped around her head belonged to her new friend Diane, also known as the biggest whore on the island. I did not know the guy that was fucking my girlfriend, nor did I know either of the two Neanderthals who were having their cocks sucked by Diane. Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised if the girls didn’t know them either.

I had already suspected that Mandy’s friendship with Diane was partly responsible for the growing divide between my girlfriend and me. She knew I didn’t like her associating with people like Diane, and she assured me she had nothing to do with her, barely even knew her. Like all her lies, I had believed it at the time. It was only later, when Dave swore me that he himself had seen them going out together, getting drunk and having fun with guys in bars that I started to doubt her words.

Now there was no doubt anymore. She claimed she hardly knew Diane, yet here I was, less than twenty feet from my whoring soon-to-be ex-girlfriend, watching her lick Diane’s hairless pussy like it was made of ice cream. I had no idea Mandy even had any lesbian or bisexual appetites, but it was obvious Amanda was well versed in the art of eating pussy. She was slurping lustfully on Diane’s clit and fingered her sloppy hole at the same time. Her friend was grabbing handfuls of hair and moaned loudly whenever her mouth wasn’t filled with one or more cocks.

All this time, the nameless fat guy was pounding away at Mandy’s pussy. His bloated, hairy belly slammed against her ass with smacking sounds that reverberated in the forest. After another minute of this brutal fucking, the man bellowed that he was going to cum. He slammed into Mandy’s ass one last time and then clenched his butt as he flooded her canal with his sperm. Amanda didn’t even look up as the guy came inside her, she just kept lapping and sucking Diane’s pussy.

When he was completely spent, the guy withdrew his wilting cock, pulled up his pants and staggered away. A flood of his slimy semen gushed from Mandy’s inflamed pussy and oozed down her legs. Judging from the amount of cum already dripping down her thighs, this man wasn’t the first to unload inside her tonight. Nor would he be the last.

Right then, one of the guys who Diane was blowing grunted a few words and yanked his cock from her lips. He pumped his fist up and down his shaft a couple of times and then poured a dozen squirts of cum into her wide-open mouth. Then he too tucked his cock back in his pants and stumbled back to his mates in the pasture. Meanwhile, the other guy was also jacking off and within a couple of seconds he too ejaculated into Diane’s gaping mouth. After he had added his load to that of the first guy, Diane closed her mouth and got up.

With her mouth full of cum, Diane pulled Mandy up on her knees. She grabbed Mandy’s head and, while the crowd was going insane, let the slimy cum drip from her lips. Amanda opened her mouth and let her friend feed her the double dose of cum straight from her mouth. The girls kissed and swapped back and forth the large mouthful of sperm until Mandy swallowed it all. She then proudly presented her empty mouth to the audience, and promptly called out to the crowd for more men to fuck her.

A new guy walked up to the girls and dropped his pants. I knew the guy, a total asshole. The girls couldn’t care less about his personality, they only had eyes for the big, throbbing, pre-cum drooling erection he offered them. They both jumped at it, but it was Mandy who won. She gobbled up his cock and really went to town on it. Diane, formerly the biggest slut on the island, was forced to play second fiddle to her friend and pupil. All she could do was lick the guy’s balls and asshole, and hope Mandy wouldn’t have sucked him dry before she had her chance to blow his cock. To add injury to insult, while my cheating slut ex-girlfriend was slobbering on the asshole’s cock, a second guy grabbed her ass and rammed his cock in her sodden pussy.

With Mandy being fucked from both ends and having no cock inside her herself, Diane was feeling left out and she also called for more guys, practically ordering the audience to come and fuck her. A small group of volunteers emerged from the crowd and not much later she was sucking cock, bouncing up and down in another guy’s lap while a third guy fucked her ass. With all her holes stuffed and her role as top slut somewhat restored, Diane was happy again. The audience was cheering wildly as the five men proceeded to fuck the girls in all their holes.

I gazed at the depraved spectacle for maybe fifteen minutes while I was trying to digest this new information and decide what to do next. I figured I had only two options; either make my presence known and give Amanda a piece of my mind, or just leave and forget about her. As I watched her thirstily gulp down another load of cum and then hoarsely call out for more, I decided to take the second option. Making a scene would be humiliating, risky even, and utterly pointless.

Besides, I really didn’t care that much anymore. I had seen how my cheating girlfriend was being passed around like a 5-dollar whore and cummed in by one guy after another. There was no doubt as to whether she was participating willingly. Whenever Mandy’s mouth wasn’t on a cock or pussy, she was asking for more guys to fuck her ass or pussy and ordering them to fill her holes with cum.

I also understood now that the girl I had met here earlier had indeed been Amanda after all. She undoubtedly had known who I was when I kissed her, and she chose to reject me. Maybe it was at that moment that she decided she didn’t want me anymore, or, more likely, she and Diane already had their little gangbang prearranged, and she didn’t need me hanging around. Frankly, it didn’t matter, I had seen enough.

The sounds of Mandy’s infidelity were fading quickly as I distanced myself from Jack’s grove. My feet carried me away aimlessly, and soon I was completely alone again, surrounded by silence and darkness. Once again, my path was cut off by one of the low rock walls and again I had to decide where to go. But this time, before I could pick a direction, I first had to determine my destination.

I sat down on the hard, cold rocks and tried to make up my mind. There was a lot to think about and I had to clear my head a bit before I made any rash decisions. I had set out to find Amanda, and I had found her. Seeing her and discovering her true nature, didn’t make me feel angry. I didn’t even feel betrayed. I already didn’t want her anymore before I even entered Jack’s grove. If I felt anything, it was relief that our decaying relationship was truly and undeniably over.

I pushed my hands in my pockets and let the furry tail slide between my fingers. The little keepsake was the only evidence I had that the encounter wasn’t a dream, that the girl was real and the time we enjoyed together really happened. The girl’s whispered request to meet her in Old Jim's barn was firmly etched in my mind. At the time I couldn’t take her up on her offer, but now that I had declared myself single again, I was morally allowed to see her, and even spend the rest of the night together. Maybe I should just go there to see if the girl was really waiting for me.

I really, desperately wanted to be with her again. Not just for more awesome sex, but to hold her in my arms, smell her hair and kiss her lips. And of course, to spend the night together and get properly acquainted after sunrise.

At the same time, there was another voice inside my head, warning me that it might not be the best idea to rush into another relationship just yet. While I couldn’t ignore the fact that there was wisdom to that voice, the idea that I might lose the only chance I had to find out who the lamb really was, scared me. It was almost an hour already since we parted. Bad idea or not, I just had to go back to her, back to Old Jim’s barn.

But, where the hell was I?

Not surprisingly, I was once more completely surrounded by darkness. I knew that behind me was a hayfield and on the other side of the rock wall border there appeared to be an empty meadow. I could see the stars in the sky above me, and far away in the distance a few buildings, but no recognizable landmarks. I climbed over the wall and continued my hike in the direction of the houses. Maybe I’d know where I was when I got there, or else there would be a road that would lead me back to civilization. I made my way through the knee-high grass until I arrived at a barbed wire fence. As walked along the fence, I had an almost religious experience.

The building I was heading for was none other than Old Jim's barn. Fate, or maybe the spirit of Linus, had guided my feet directly back to my little lamb. There was only one thing I could do. I hopped over the fence and tiptoed towards the big old shed.

Uncle Jim was probably asleep, and I happened to know that his aging watchdog was practically deaf. Still, the dog could see well, even in the dark, and his sense of smell wasn’t bad either. I knew that as long as I kept quiet enough not to wake either Jim or the dog, I should be reasonably safe. A few nervous seconds later, I had made it across the yard and reached the barn. My heart was pounding in my throat as I pushed open the big door.

Inside the barn it was even darker than outside. I whispered into the darkness, announcing my arrival and closed the door behind me. Though there was no reply, I had the uneasy feeling that I was being watched. Then I heard a noise behind me, and as I turned around, the silhouette of a girl leaped into my arms. Even though I was quite startled to say the least, I caught her mid-air. She had covered my entire face with kisses before her mouth found mine and her tongue snaked between my lips. Her sweet kisses were like a drug to me, and the longer we kissed, the more I wanted to keep kissing her. The increasing need for oxygen made us break it off eventually.

“Little lamb, could you really be my true love?” I whispered after I got my breath back.

“Maybe;” she replied, and gave me another peck on the lips. “Yes”

She took me by the hand and led me deeper into the barn. She must have spent some time exploring before I arrived, as she appeared to be quite familiar with the interior of the barn. It was utterly dark in here, as even the faint light of the stars was mostly blocked by the tattered roof, yet the girl effortlessly maneuvered us past empty stables and old farm equipment. I couldn’t help but feel a little pride swelling inside my chest as I imagined the girl roaming the barn while she was waiting for me, preparing herself for another encounter with her true love.

My little lamb carefully guided us through the darkness to our destination, which turned out to be a haystack. She halted and turned around. I bumped into her and she caught me in her arms.

“We’re here” she whispered.

She undid my coat and let it fall on the ground. Then she took my hands and sank down into the soft hay. I moved with her and sat down next to her. We both knew we had the entire night ahead, and despite our mutual desires, there was no rush. I couldn’t be happier. Being with this girl was all I wanted, for as long as possible.

All my thoughts, all my hopes and wishes revolved around the girl, yet I still didn't have a clue who she really was. All I knew was that she was about 7 or 8 inches shorter than me, with a willowy physique and a head full of blond, curly hair. This only narrowed it down to a couple of hundred girls on the island. I still couldn't ask her name, but there was no rush. There was a time for talking and a time for making love, and this wasn't the time for talking.

We made out in the hay for a long time. I couldn’t get enough of her kisses and her hot, supple body. While our tongues dueled, my hands sneaked underneath her thick wool sweater and ventured into the enticing territory hidden below. Her soft skin was radiating with heat, burning my fingers as I felt her up. Inch by inch I caressed my way up from her waist, dragging her sweater up as I went. As I reached her shoulders, I had her upper half almost naked. Finishing the job for me, she pulled it over her head and sent it flying. Like before, she wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and again I cursed the darkness that prevented me from ogling her treasures. Like a blind man, I reached for her chest and cupped my hands around her pert little breasts and studied them by touch.

I squeezed and kneaded her supple female flesh. The delightfully full and firm breasts were barely a handful, but they were hers, and I didn’t want them any other way. I could feel her erect nipples as they poked into the palm of my hand as I caressed the soft skin. I let my fingers trace around the puckered nubs and over the tiny bumpy areolas surrounding them. Her nipples were small, but they were firm and perfect for sucking and nibbling. Though I didn’t know what she looked like, I was sure I could make a perfect sculpture of her face and body.

My half-naked lamb was dry humping me as I explored and teased her with my fingers. She was already hot and willing, but I wa

My Sheep Girl: Part 1

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Fri, 28 Aug 2026 02:08:00 +0000

My Sheep Girl: Part 1.

I found true love while participating in one of my hometown’s little known, but deeply cherished local traditions.

Based on a post by SquattingEagle. Listen to the ►Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Island folklore.

Hi, I'm Jethro, I’m nineteen years old and I live with my parents and two younger sisters on one of the small islands off the east coast of Ireland. Although, to be truthful, that’s where I used to live, as I'm currently spending most of my days on the mainland, attending university. But the island will always be home to me and once I’ve graduated, I’ll surely go back. There's just something special about life on a small, isolated island like ours that simply can’t be found anywhere else.

Until the day I’ll return to the island for good, I can only try to visit home as often as I could, which is nowhere near as often as I wanted. You see, merely driving from the campus to the harbor would take at least four hours. If traffic was heavy, five or six hours was more likely. And that was just the first part of the journey. From there on, the only way to the island was by a three-hour boat trip. Weather permitting, this boat shuttled back and forth three times a day. Bad weather, however, was liable to keep the ferry moored at the harbor for days at a time, especially during the stormy autumn and winter months.

While this remoteness was a bit of a pain to me now, the isolation was also what made our island unique, and is therefore essential to the story I am about to tell you.

As you can imagine, our community is largely self-reliant and very much independent of the mainland. It’s been like that for centuries, and even modern technology had not been able to change that. According to the tourist board, our 'picturesque island' houses about 19,000 people, and over 50,000 sheep that roam the fields and forests. Apparently, we are ‘known for our own unique and age-old traditions', most of which are in some way connected to our ‘long lineage of brave fishermen’ and dedicated to ‘the men who sailed stormy seas to bring home nothing but the finest fresh fish’.

While most of our local festivities do indeed involve the sea and its bounties in one way or another, one was quite unlike all the others. That particular day is known as Linus Day, and it is probably the most cherished of all our traditions. Linus Day is celebrated each year on the day of the first new moon in spring and got its name after a nobleman that featured in one of the local legends. It was because of this holiday that I had decided to skip my classes and visit home for a couple of days.

The Legend of Linus.

A long time ago, there lived on the island a man named Linus. As the story goes, he was a wealthy nobleman who had everything his heart could desire. Good looks, lots of money, a luxurious home and scores of friends. His good fortune seemed complete when he met a beautiful girl with a smile that brought sunlight to a rainy day. He quickly fell in love with her and within weeks of their first meeting, he asked her to be his wife. She gladly accepted his proposal and a huge wedding feast was announced. Everyone on the island was invited.

Unknown to Linus, his fair young fiancée wasn't the only one who had fallen for his handsome looks and charming personality. There was another woman, one who was deeply scorned when she learned of his betrothal. On the evening before the wedding, this other woman paid the nobleman an unannounced visit. She warned him that his fiancée was not his true love, and that he should marry her instead. When Linus replied that she was mistaken and that there was nothing she could do to change his mind, the woman burst out in anger. In a fit of rage, she summoned the ancient spirits and put a curse on the bride-to-be.

Before storming out the door, the enraged woman swore that if Linus did not call off the wedding, his bride would be turned into a sheep and be cursed to roam the island among the other animals for the remainder of her life. Only if Linus could prove his love for the girl was true, would he be able to lift the curse.

Linus was a judicious man and in too good a mood to let the woman’s angry ravings ruin his day, and quickly forgot the entire incident. However, the next morning, on the day of the wedding, the young bride was reported missing. The townsfolk searched the whole island and left no stone unturned, but the girl was nowhere to be found. It was then that Linus recalled the woman's angry words, and fear struck his heart. He ran into the fields and scrutinized every herd on the island, desperately looking for his lost fiancée among the sheep. He searched all day, but the animals all looked and sounded the same. Devastated, he returned home.

Before long, people started talking about the nobleman's increasingly eccentric behavior. He hired a dozen huntsmen and ordered them to shoot all the wolves and wild cats on the island. Once that was done, he had all his lands converted into pastures and bought many acres more, only to let them lay unoccupied, except for a few flocks of sheep. He subsequently declared that no-one on the island was to ever lay a finger on the animals and assured the people he would repay all damages caused by them.

Even his friends and family believed he had lost his mind when Linus then sold his wealthy home and became a shepherd, living in a wooden shed. The years went by and the nobleman spent a fortune doing everything he could to protect the island’s ever-growing population of sheep. His resources were diminishing fast, but still he managed to feed and shelter the animals throughout one of the longest and harshest winters the people on the island had ever witnessed. At last springtime arrived, and on the night of the first new moon he lay in his shack, alone, cold and hungry. He had lost absolutely everything, every penny he owned, his mansion and his scores of friends. Everything but his looks and the thousands of animals he cared so deeply for.

On that first moonless night in spring, though he himself was starving, he gave his last piece of bread to one of the sheep that took refuge with him in the shack. Then, as he watched the animal devour the dry morsel of bread, it suddenly shed its thick coat and from under the layer of wool emerged a beautiful young woman. It was none other than his long-lost fiancée, his one true love. By sacrificing absolutely everything he had, Linus had finally managed to lift the curse.

Reunited at last, Linus and his fiancée were married the very next day. The news quickly spread throughout island and the townsfolk now arranged to host a feast for the impoverished nobleman and his beautiful bride. Together they built them a new house in the fields, where the couple lived happily ever after. Linus and his wife had six children, all beautiful girls with blonde, curly hair like that of a newborn lamb, a trait that was still prevalent on our island to this day.

As the story goes, it was this legendary wedding feast that the people hosted for the nobleman and his wife that evolved into the local holiday now known as Linus Day, and it is still dedicated to that ancient couple's true love.

Although you won't find it mentioned in any of the tourist board's leaflets, the legend of Linus was also linked to another, more obscure, but equally cherished tradition. This tradition was commonly referred to as Sheep-shaggin’.

On the evening before Linus Day, all the young and unmarried women would dress up as sheep and hide in the woods or fields. Then, as soon as the sun had set, the men would go out as well. If they were in a relationship, it was their task to find their girlfriends and if they did, their love was supposedly destined to be true.

The festival of sheep-shaggin’ was arguably even better for those who were not in a committed relationship. If you were a single guy, tradition allowed you to go into the forest and have sex with as many dressed-up girls as you could find. All night long, all single and willing females were considered fair game. And better still, the complete darkness of the new moon and absence of electric lights practically ensured complete anonymity, if that's what you desired. It was understood that even a total loser could get lucky on sheep-shaggin’.

Me, I was not a total loser and furthermore, I was in a serious, albeit waning, relationship. This night, like every other sheep-shaggin’ for the last three years, my girlfriend Amanda was somewhere out there waiting for me, but tonight I had not been able to find her. I had been searching the dark woods and desolate fields for ages and looked for her in all the places that used to mean something to us, yet I was still wandering alone. I had run into several dressed-up girls in various locations, but none of the lambs proved to be my true love.

In a way, it was indicative of our relationship; I just did not know what Mandy was thinking anymore. After we finished high school almost a year ago, I left the island to attend college while she chose to stay behind and find a job. Although we telephoned almost every day and I did my best to be with my girlfriend as much as possible, our relationship had been going downhill ever since. Especially over the last few months she had changed, becoming more and more detached from me. Whatever remained between us now was purely physical. I mean, the sex we had was still great, but at times it felt more like she was an escort than a girlfriend.

A month ago, my friend Dave told me that he had heard that Mandy was making new friends and seeing other guys. A few days later I had confronted her, and we had a big fight, during which she vehemently denied the accusation. The subsequent make-up sex was spectacular, and maybe I was a bit too eager to believe her after that. But it didn't seem so far-fetched to me now. In fact, it would explain a lot.

It was pitch dark. The only light around was from the few ships far away on the ocean and the millions of tiny stars above me. A gentle breeze rolled in from the sea, dragging thin, ghostly shards of fog into the valleys. I was shivering. Although the vast stretches of water surrounding the island provided us with moderate temperatures all year round, it was quite chilly tonight. It was unlikely anyone would be hiding here on these inhospitable beaches, least of all Mandy, who absolutely despised the cold. I left the dewy shores behind me and directed my search more inland. As I moved on to higher grounds, the climate improved greatly, but still I couldn’t seem to shake off the cold.

It wasn’t the weather though, that caused my discomfort. The duffle coat I was wearing was thick enough to keep me warm, but no amount of wool could keep the chill from my heart. What I really needed to fend off the cold were a loving pair of arms around me, and a supple, warm body to cuddle and caress. Unfortunately, apart from those few twinkling lights far away on the ocean, there wasn’t a single sign of human life around.

As I strode on, the dead silence of the night was broken by the sound of church bells tolling in the distance. It was twelve o’clock, which meant I had fruitlessly traversed the fields and forests for some two hours now. Who knows what would happen tonight. Spending this much time searching the island was proof of my love for Mandy, right? And maybe when I finally kissed her lips, she'd turn back into the girl I used to know and forever be my true love.

On the other hand, if it didn't happen tonight, we might as well break up. Part of me was already willing to accept that I wasn’t going to find her and take it as a sign that Mandy was not my true love after all. Though the idea of going home surely was tempting, it wasn’t in my nature to quit this easily. I could not give up the search until I had examined every place that had some kind of special meaning or memory to us, no matter how insignificant. I pushed my hands deeper into my pockets and walked on, feeling more and more morose and pessimistic with every step I took.

Another hour later, I was just about to throw in the towel. I had checked every site I could think of that had some memory attached to it, and for the last twenty minutes I had been wandering around aimlessly. I knew it was time give up, go home and seriously rethink our relationship. But which way was home? Looking around, I had to admit that I was lost. All I knew was that I was in the middle of a large hayfield, surrounded by a vast, empty darkness. With no recognizable landmarks anywhere in sight, the only thing I could do was to keep walking and hope to eventually stumble across some point of reference to point me home.

As I cut across the field, my path was blocked by one of the old rock wall borders that haphazardly divided up the fields. With no particular direction to go, I walked along the border to wherever it was leading. A couple of hundred yards further on, I saw something moving in the darkness, something grey or white. By now, most of the girls would have been taken home by their lovers, whether old or new, and only a girl who was truly dedicated to her love would still be around. The figure seemed to be a little too big to be a stray sheep, it could be a dressed-up girl. Who knew, maybe this time I was lucky.

As I closed in on the creature, the sound of my footsteps alerted it to my presence. The way it moved was like a girl, not like a sheep. With new hope, I walked toward the girl. A soft, hesitating bleat soon confirmed my suspicion as she greeted the stranger approaching her from the dark. I was still a couple of feet away, but I already knew this girl wasn’t Mandy. She had the right kind of curly blond hair, but her girlish figure was too small, too lithe and her voice too soft and kind. I bend over and kissed her anyway. Her lips were soft and warm. Her scent and the touch of her lips made me thirst for more. Sadly, our kiss ended all too soon.

I held the girl in my arms, delaying the moment I had to let go of this little lamb and head back into the cold and lonely darkness. I really wished this lamb was the girl I was looking for. Though I had no idea who she was, I felt a strange connection with her. If I wasn’t supposed to be looking for someone else, I would have loved to stay. The girl must have thought the same thing, because as I was hesitating to let her go, the blonde pressed her lips once more against mine and gave me another kiss. A little shy she opened her mouth and licked my lips. Knowing I shouldn’t, I opened my mouth anyway.

Had that first kiss merely been a traditional and rather impersonal greeting, this second kiss was something completely different. Tender. Intense. Playful. Inquisitive. Sensual.

It is hard to describe how much I enjoyed kissing this girl. But, although our second kiss lasted a whole lot longer than the first, it too had to end sometime, whether I wanted it to or not. When our lips disconnected, my head was spinning and my search for Amanda suddenly seemed a lot less important than before. Before she released me from her embrace, the girl gave me one last peck on the lips. Then she got down on all fours again, and went back to her role as a sheep, like she was supposed to.

“Little lamb, could you be my true love?” I asked the customary question.

I was unsure of how she would react. I didn’t even know how I wanted her to react. Had she been my true love, she would now get on her feet and take off her costume, then whisper “yes” and kiss me once more. If she was waiting for someone else, then she'd look away and bleat again. Secretly, I was hoping for option number three. If this girl was single and willing, she would now present me her rear for some more anonymous, casual fun.

The girl remained silent. Still on all fours, she hesitated for a few moments and then, finally, she moved. My heart rejoiced as she turned around; not only was the girl still single, she was single and willing. Even though I couldn’t accept what she had to offer, it was a relief to know that somewhere on this island there was a sweet girl that wanted me. She brushed impatiently against my leg, like a playful lamb. As if her intentions weren’t clear enough, she then grabbed my hand and placed it under her skirt, between her legs.

I wavered. The smooth skin of her inner thigh was soft and warm, and it felt dangerously good. The only thing that kept me from ravishing this lovely little lamb on the spot was a deep-rooted moral obligation to my girlfriend. For a guy in a relationship, kissing other girls was permissible during sheep-shaggin’, but anything beyond that was still considered cheating. But what if I wasn’t in a relationship anymore? It would be a shame if I passed up this lovely lamb because of a misplaced sense of loyalty to a girlfriend who was nowhere to be found tonight. A girlfriend who I was just about finished with anyway, and who in all likelihood had been cheating on me for weeks, if not months.

I was fighting a losing battle with myself. The frustrations of this long, lonesome night and the doubt that had grown over the last months got the better of me. I knew the right thing was to stay faithful to Mandy and leave before I did something I’d regret later, but no matter how hard my conscience was ordering me to stop, I simply couldn't. There was something about this sexy little lamb that held me captivated. It was like the spirit of Linus was whispering to me, telling me that this girl and I belonged together.

While my conscience was still battling my carnal desire for this girl, my hand had begun moving on its own, drawn like a magnet towards that wonderful place high up between her legs. I was so close to her pussy now, I could feel the heat radiating from it. The lamb bleated impatiently and spread her legs even more, granting me full access to her fiery sex. As she was moving, I felt something tickle my wrist. I knew it was something other than her skirt, but didn’t have the time to find out what it was, because an instant later my fingers encountered a downy patch of hair and then a very, very aroused pussy. She gasped as my thumb slid between the slick and delicate female petals and traced her little treasure from the tiny bead of her clit to the tight hole beneath her puckered ass.

She pushed back against my hand and gently rocked her hips as I played with her pussy. While my hand moved up, her ass moved down and the tip of my thumb lodged itself into her opening. While I was still hesitating, she immediately pushed back, and her vagina hungrily accepted the intruding digit. She was tight but wet, and I entered her smoothly. My thumb was enveloped by her moist heat. I pulled it out a little and then pushed back in, gently squeezing her juicy peach between my fingers.

The girl groaned sexily as I explored and played with her pussy. Getting her this horny was in itself very gratifying, but I knew it was only a prelude to what the night held for us. By now, there was only one thing on my mind, and that was bringing this nightly encounter to a mutually satisfying end. I was determined to give us a good start by making her cum first. Guided by her reactions, I quickly learned what excited her most. When I slowly pushed my thumb in and out of her pussy and rapidly rubbed her swollen clit with my finger at the same time, I knew I had struck gold. Her moaning quickened and then she bucked her hips as her orgasm took control of her body.

The way her tight pussy had been squeezing my thumb when she came was unreal. I could only imagine how incredible it would feel to have those muscles work on my cock. I could take her right now if I wanted, while she was still in the throes of her climax. All I had to do was drop my pants, aim for penetration, and we’d be fucking. As much as I looked forward to doing exactly that, something was holding me back. It wasn’t my girlfriend. It was the notion that this girl was special, someone who deserved much more than a rushed, anonymous shag in the dark. While I couldn’t do much about the anonymous part, there was nothing that could stop me from taking my time with this girl.

Knowing I was going to have sex with the lamb in due course, I first sought to taste her kiss again. I kneeled down next to her and pulled her into my arms. She was still panting when our lips met, but as my tongue slipped between her lips, it was eagerly greeted by her own. She truly was a great kisser. She displayed a tenderness and enthusiasm that I just couldn’t get enough of, and despite us being complete strangers, her kisses had the distinct taste of something I had been missing for a long time; genuine desire and sincere affection.

After another lengthy and passionate kiss, I was starved for air and feeling drunk on the little lamb’s lips. I opened my eyes, half expecting to be greete

Oktoberfest Origins

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Wed, 26 Aug 2026 19:13:00 +0000

Oktoberfest Origins

How a Young Prince Frederick celebrated his wedding to Princess Charlotte, and started a great Bavarian tradition.

Based on the work of Mumfreds. Listen to the podcast at steamy stories.

In 1808 people of W rttemberg lived in the convergence of three cultures. The masculine lead industry and agriculture of the Germans, the Swiss provided enlightenment of the sciences, and the French liberality and arts added a healthy dose of libertine free thinking and even a tolerance for kinkiness.

But W rttemberg was moving forward with the final demise of the Holy Roman Empire just a few years earlier.

Napoleon had just defeated the Austrian military and established a new Confederation of the Rhine.

The ethnic German people were split apart and some were under the Austrian protectorate, while the Rhine was under French protectorate on both sides of the Rhine river, including the German homeland. Prince Frederick had watched as his older sister was given to Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte as a wife for Napoleon s brother, in exchange for his family's continued role of the W rttemberg Kingdom, under the occupation of Napoleon's empire.

Now Prince Frederick was being pressured by his parents and the court advisors, to strategically marry a well-bred heiress from the kingdom of Bavaria, princess Charlotte.

Princess Charlotte was just 18 in the spring of 1810.

A debutante, already being aggressively sought by Napoleon, she was terrified.

When faced with the two unwanted options, she and her mother agreed that Frederick William was the better option and more respecting of their shared German heritage.

Charlotte wept for weeks. She was still a girl of just 18 years. Her parents apologized repeatedly. It was especially difficult because Charlotte had always been a free-spirit and defiant of the stupid rules of etiquette that she violated almost daily.

As an enthusiast of all things equestrian, Charlotte refused to ride side-saddle . She also found the practice to be a convenient excuse when the Royal Physician of W rttemberg Court conducted a prenuptial gynecological exam a requirement in the nuptial contract between the kingdoms.

As for Prince Frederick William, the marriage was even less anticipated. Charlotte was not the ideal sex object of his fantasies.

Where he liked slender, tall older women, Charlotte was busty with a big round ass.

Frederick liked the arts and sciences. He enjoyed the opera and studied astronomy.

Charlotte loved animals and preferred German folk songs. Charlotte found little appeal in Frederick's lanky physique. She preferred the bulky, athletic, and masculine virility of farm-hands and tradesmen.

A fall wedding Festival

Back in 1810 Crown Prince Frederick William, sought the hand of the lovely princess Charlotte of Munich. She was the most desired woman in all of the ethnic German kingdoms.

He courted her for many months, seeking to prevail over the efforts of Emperor Napoleon of France.

Frederick's family negotiated aggressively with her father King Maximilian; whereby Frederick eventually asked Charlotte to marry him.

Both kingdoms shared a strong disgust for all things French culture.

It was the one topic where the two actually enjoyed conversation and felt compatibility. they were political allies and even business partners; but not at all romantically drawn to desire. She felt the same way he did, and accepted his offer. They were scheduled to marry on October 12th.

As the date came close, she was starting to feel some trepidation. He was concerned and asked what was the problem.

She shyly told him that she was expected to be with him; only with him, for the rest of her life.

He said of course she would be only with him, and he would be only with her, as was customary.

She thought carefully, and said; Forever is a long time.

He did not want her to be so sad and thought for a while. He proposed an idea as a secret plan that they should not tell anyone about.

At the wedding there would be a huge and joyous festival; a very German cultural Festival. At the festival she could go among the crowd and choose three men with which to make love.

Upon hearing the idea, she was overjoyed at the thought and thanked him for his generosity and gladly accepted.

The wedding was indeed a huge and joyous festival where everyone in Munich turned out.

The first night of the festival was the night of their wedding. The celebration was scheduled to go on for 5 days.

On the second day of the festival the prince approached the princess and told her today would be the day she made her three selections. She would go out and pick three men with which to sow her oats.

She went to her dressing chamber to pick out her sexiest outfit. She chose the shortest dirndl she had. It stopped just below her ass. The front of the dirndl plunged to show her beautiful Buxom cleavage. On her smooth legs she wore white by high stockings that ended below her dirndl.

On her feet she wore elevated wedges. She was a vision. Her body was very visible and very sexy.

The prince and princess began to make the rounds, where villagers were celebrating and congregating. As they walked, the men noticed princess Charlotte and paid her a great deal of attention. Offerings were made of pretzels, beer, and all sorts of treats, as she walked through the fair.

She was pleasant of all and smiled as she always did. These were her people and she hoped they would come to accept her foreign Prince.

Helmut the blacksmith

As they walked through the grounds they came upon a blacksmith, who had a stall set up to shoe horses. Charlotte stopped, and seemed to take a special interest. As one would expect, the blacksmith was quite strong, and also handsome. When she got close, a smile fell across his face and he gave greetings.

I am Helmut, my princess; he said in the most cultured enunciation he could contrive. She secretly knew Helmut from her frequent trips to the Stables. But that is their secret. The prince asked the princess if this might be one of the men. She smiled and said; Indeed this would be one of the men if he so desired.

As the princess continued strolling, the prince stayed back briefly and invited Helmut to a special dinner with the princess that evening at 7:00.

He graciously accepted. While he didn't understand what was fully ahead for him, he was happy to be able to spend an evening with the busty and charming princess.

Robert the actor

They continued to walk through the fairgrounds with the prince often letting the princess drift ahead so he could see the reactions of the commoners as they look at her beauty. He watch her interact with the men of the Kingdom.

As they continued, they came across a play that was just finishing up on the stage. The lead actor was quite athletically fit and very handsome. He flashed a smile at princess Charlotte and catching her off guard, she shyly looked away. The production poster listed the lead actor as Robert.

What Prince Frederick didn't suspect was that Robert was also a part of the local Polo team. The two had secretly met in the Stables. The secret remains to this day. She composed herself and began to smile. He congratulated her and the prince on their wedding. She whispered to the prince that it might be fun to invite him to dinner. Shortly thereafter the prince did just that.

Steffan the folk dancer

After not much longer, the princess stopped in front of the stage where there was folk dancing.One of the dancers was agile, strong, and very skilled. As he lifted his twirling partner into the air, then safely caught her in his arms. She caught the vicarious thrill of experiencing being airborne and caught in his gentle arms.

Steffan stepped back for his female dance partner to perform her feature solo. As he caught his breath, he looked out to the applauding crowds. He spotted the royal couple and was pleased. He had caught the princess's eye. She stood and watched him perform. in his lederhosen, not taking her eyes off of him.

This was not missed by the dancer, and when the dance was over he came over and introduced himself to the princess. I am Steffan , he humbly bowed.This was but a rouse, as the dancer was part of a Mayday festival at the Munich Palace. Charlotte had graciously helped him find the dressing rooms when he'd gotten lost in the palace back halls.

Charlotte felt a wetness as she recalled his tryst in her private Chambers just months ago; As Steffan talked with the prince, his eyes glanced up and down Charlotte s body. Memories led to arousal, and after several minutes, Steffan quickly dismissed himself to prepare for the next number.

His tight shorts left little to the imagination and it was clear that he was very well built down there. It also became obvious when he was talking to the princess, that she pleased him greatly and that is why he had to make a quick exit.

Princess Charlotte smiled at The Prince and he understood that the dancer would be the third. The prince then extended an invite to him.

The special guests come to dinner

The dinner was scheduled for that evening at 7:00. A fire was made in the large fireplace and the finest Linens, China, and glassware were laid out.

The cooks were busy making Gourmet Foods and the prince picked the wines himself. The princess was bathing and getting dressed for the evening. She had taken her time to clean and shave meticulously. She had chosen a metallic gold dress that plunged in the front bodice, and a skirt that stopped right at her bottom, in the back.

She also wore matching metallic gold strappy shoes with towering heels. She also wore her gold earrings, necklace, and bracelets. On her right ankle was a gold anklet that the prince had bought her that day for the dinner. She looked irresistible.

As the princess dressed upstairs, the men arrived early for the dinner. They too, had bathed and put on their finest clothes.

The prince greeted them personally, and the young studs introduced themselves to each other. The prince poured them each a drink and they toasted to each other and their good fortune. Prince Frederick explained to their astonishment and delight; the agreement the prince and princess had made ,and that they were the lucky men chosen.

When the princess arrived downstairs, the prince met her before she walked into the dining room. To her surprise, the prince said that he would not be joining them. He wanted the men to have her to themselves and for her to have the men to herself. After thinking about it a bit, she realized that this might be more fun.

The prince told her however, that he couldn't possibly resist watching her sexual conquests and would be watching from special consealments that were created near the dining room.

They then walked into the dining room as the men stood up and were formally introduced by name to the princess.As she walked in looking lovely as can be. There were Smiles all around.

The prince said his good-byes,and said he would stop in the evening, The princess and her suitors were seated for dinner and were poured wine from the servants. As the conversation began, the men paid great attention to the princess. The men stared deep into the eyes of the princess while she spoke and attended to her every need.

Dancing In The Parlor

After dessert was served Steffan asked the princess if she d like to dance. She loved to dance and quickly accepted the offer from the handsome man. Charlotte led the man into the Parlor and went over to a cabinet on casters she opened the lid of the music box and cranked up the Armature.

The Parlor was filled with the rich sounds of an Austrian Waltz. They began a formal Waltz, with the dancer expertly taking the lead and the princess easily keeping up. They glided around the room while Helmut and Robert looked on, seated on nicely-upholstered wing-back chairs.

Not wanting to be left out, Robert cut in and continued the dance; His intense blue eyes staring into the princesses. Helmut, not wanting to miss his turn, cut in. This allowed the princess to put her hands on his muscular arms as he easily spun her around the Dance Floor.

During dinner, Prince Frederick had been sitting in a hall outside the dining room. He took great pleasure in watching the princess charm and be Charmed by the men. He found himself increasingly excited as the dancing started. His new wife was a youthful and sexy dancer, and watching her interact with the men turned him on immensely.

When the quartet moved to the parlor, Prince Frederick went upstairs to a balcony overlooking the Parlor. A member of his W rttemberg Entourage, Claudine was making her regular checks on his welfare. She was his tutor since he was 10 years old and she was 21.

The woman taught Frederick on many subjects, and over time had become an adviser on many matters. She was tall, slender, and elegant. Her lessons often continued in his bed Chambers whenever they could safely conceal the ongoing sex education lessons. Now, 17 years later, Claudine now carries herself as a charming and confident 39 year old vixen.

From the balcony, the prince and his tutor (and secret lover) sat on the floor, behind the velvet drapes, and silently peered between the balusters, Charlotte s deportment with the young men.

The quartet move to a slower song and the blacksmith pulled the princess close for a slow dance. The princess s head had been spinning from her wonderful evening and her third Goblet of wine, and now she was very close to and touching this muscular man. He too could feel her busty body with his strong hands around her firm waist he pulled her in closer to him she didn't pull away as she felt him stiffen.

She began to feel a tingle inside herself. Before she knew it Robert the actor had stepped up and taken Helmut s place. As Robert stared into her eyes he leaned forward and gently put his lips to hers and she readily received them as she first did in that pile of straw in the horse stables.

He pulled her close to him and continued to kiss her. She then felt a second set of hands on her hips from behind it was Steffan. Her dress was so short that his hands were right above the bottom of the dress. She briefly stopped kissing Robert as Steffen pulled her hips into him and began kissing her neck. Pressing into her rear end was that very large and now very hard cock that had attracted her earlier that day. He raised Goosebumps on her as he kissed her neck.

From the balcony, Prince Frederick and Claudine had seen everything. He didn't miss a second of the meal or the dance. Much like the viral men in the parlor, he too was very hard. To watch the woman he married be so pleased. To be able to watch her talk and flirt and touch and be touched was truly a pleasure. To see the way the young suiters desire her.

Claudine began rubbing his crotch while sliding her other hand up under her own skirt.

As Steffan continued to kiss the princess on her neck and ears, he slowly ground his cock against her white ass. With his hands around her waist the skimpy dress began fully raising from the grinding as it lifted.

The actor in front of her looked down and realized she wasn't wearing any panties. He could see her perfect beautiful shaved cunt. He went wild, grabbing her head and kissing her deeply with his tongue.

Steffan also noticing the dress had climbed up her body, began using his large hands to rub her large crack.

The princess felt so good she was barely standing at this point, mostly being held up in the sandwich of the men. The blacksmith was standing on the sidelines with his cock out, stroking while looking at the scene he had in front of him.

The actor was now kissing down the body of The Princess and Steffan turned the princess's head and began kissing her deeply as he reached in front and grabbed her heating tits and fondling her tall erect nipples.

Robert had made his way down to her belly and was closing in on her cunt. The princess shook as Robert's lips came in contact with her cunt lips. He licked her cunt as she held his head against her.

After the princess Broke Free from Steffan's kiss, she gave a look towards the waiting blacksmith. The look let Helmut know it was time for him to join the fun.

Helmut, unable to contain himself, walked towards the melee. He ignored Steffan and the actor and picked up the princess and carried her to a large couch on the side of the room. He laid her down on the couch and began for lack of a better word, to ravage her body.

He grabbed and sucked her nipples and then quickly moved down to her cunt, licking her clit.

The other two men were quickly at the couch. The actor began sucking her nipples making the princess squirm. She wrapped her legs around Helmut's head. As Robert & Steffan worked their magic, she began to quiver.

This stirred both of the men and their tongues sped up lapping her nipples and clit. Her back arched as the orgasm flowed through her body. As she recovered from her orgasm, the men stood her up and removed her mini dress so that only her gold platform heals and jewelry remained. At this point; Helmut was so turned on, he couldn't wait. He laid the princess back down, and guided his rigid cock inside her. As much as she enjoyed his mouth it felt really good to have his hard warm cock in her.

The princess looked next to see that Robert had removed his clothes and had his hard shaft in front of her. The princess reached out and grabbed his cock.

Robert's heart was pounding. The hand of this beautiful woman felt so good on him.

Steffan stripped off his clothes and joined the group.

The princess had her eyes closed as Helmut picked up his pace. She put her right hand on his muscular chest and rubbed down his chiseled abdomen, wrapping her hand around his thick cock as it slid in and out of her. She returned her hand to his chest and continued to jerk off the wood of Robert on her left.

One of the thrust of Helmut's threw the princess's head back and as she look to the right she saw the naked body of Stefan.

His cock was large and beautiful. It was exactly what she hoped for when she picked him for the evening. She slowed her hand down on the actor as she eagerly grabbed the thick rod of the handsome dancer. She slowly explored the entire length of his cock with her soft hand. He leaned over and touched and kissed her slowly, exploring her mouth; reaching over to gently caress her nipple. She firmly but gently grabbed the base of his cock, and pulled him close to her. It was perfect, and she began licking and sucking it. She continued to suck as much of the cock as she could fit in her mouth, to the rhythm of Helmut sliding in and out of her wet cunt.

Helmut would not last much longer, and began to pick up speed. The princess began to tremble and slow down the actor and Dancer.

As Helmut's hands wrapped around her tiny waist, she put her hands on his waist, to push him in further, He began grunted and began powerfully jack-hammering her. Her entire body was moving as Helmut slammed into her. He began to cum. She felt his first shot squirt into her body, which pushed her into a full orgasm as her body clinched around him. He kept pounding, shooting a large load as she moaned.

Charlotte was trembling from the orgasm Helmut had just given her. He held her in his strong arms, as she took a moment to recover. After some time, he withdrew his cock from her.

Steffan grabbed the Princess's

JoAnne's Christmas Curse: Part 2

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Tue, 25 Aug 2026 23:20:00 +0000

JoAnne’s Christmas Curse: Part 2

A Bike Messenger Received.

Based on a post by Todd 1 72, in 2 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

In the morning, JoAnne only found one skirt and jacket; with a remarkable short skirt. And the only shoes had six inch spike heels. Fortunately the long wool overcoat was back, so at least she could probably make it to the office without being ravished, although as horny as she was waking up, any ravishing was more likely to be her doing anyway.

JoAnne shrugged off her coat as she walked past Lillian's desk, the super-short skirt eliciting an appreciative "ooh" from Lillian.

Then, Lillian said, "Um, shit. JoAnne, the secretary offsite training is today, so I have to leave in like five minutes; we're supposed to head out to some lame team building exercise thing."

JoAnne flinched. Lillian, cute as ever, stood up and stepped into the inner office with her.

Lillian continued. "I, um, was really hoping to finish all that, um, dictation we started yesterday, but I just got a call saying there are no excused absences. Human Resources is adamant."

JoAnne forced a smile on her face. "Not your fault. I was really hoping we could; um, go over that last part again today. Maybe you could read it back to me tomorrow though."

She felt Lillian's warm hand slide up the back of her skirt and gently grab her bare ass, a fingertip just pressed against her asshole. Lillian smiled sweetly as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

"I hate to wait that long, but I'll go over my notes so I can read it back exactly right."

JoAnne shivered, glanced out the door to make sure nobody was in the outer office, then whispered into Lillian's ear, "God, I was so looking forward to dragging you in here this morning. You'd better run while you still have some clothes on!"

Lillian gave her a chaste peck on the cheek, then slipped out the door.

Shit. Alone. Horny as hell.

JoAnne settled in to get some work done. The morning dragged by, Joanne having to find every file, and never quite sure where to look. She was surprised at how much she actually had undervalued her secretaries; the Byzantine filing system used by the company for hard copy files, was certainly not designed for amateurs. By late afternoon, she found herself frustrated; sorting through file cabinets, looking for a 10-year old file. She was looking in the second lowest cabinet when she heard someone behind her, clearing his throat.

JoAnne whirled. The same bike messenger as usual, stood with a package; and gilt edged green envelope in hand. From where he had been standing, he must have had a clear view of her full ass, as she bent over the files. With the super-short skirt and no panties, it didn't take a genius to figure out what he'd seen. She glanced down at his thin spandex cycling shorts surreptitiously. Yep. Hard-on. Giant hard-on. She could see each vein in the trellis texture wrapping around the wide girth of his cock.

"How long have you been standing there."

"About 90 seconds, I just came; in. I mean came in."

"I'll bet." She snatched the big bubble-wrap envelope from his hand. Ripped it open and read the gilt and ivory card.

All it said was, "He's all yours." She felt the now-familiar tingling, surge through her. The package had a very nice Christmas bath towel with ivory and gold trim.

She stared at the muscular bike messenger, stepped around him; then closed, and locked the office door.

"Three questions. No bullshit."

He raised an eyebrow, "Yes?"

"You married?"

"No."

"Steady girlfriend?"

"No."

"Straight?"

"Yes."

"Fine. I can see you're horny." She gestured at his monstrous hard-on. "You've eyed me every time you've come in here; and if I don't get laid in the next few minutes, I'll go insane."

Her skirt and blouse hit the floor, and before he could even respond, she was on her knees and pulling the spandex shorts to his ankles. Her mouth was on his massive cock before he could even finish stepping out of his shoes and pull his shirt off. The taste was amazing, she felt like she couldn't get away; every lick made her crave him even more.

She could barely get her hand around the shaft, so she began stroking his massive pole with both hands; spreading as much of her saliva on his cock as she could manage, then she began pumping his cock in and out of her mouth, getting a little deeper with each stroke. She felt his hands grip her hair, and he slowly began to take over the rhythm, and driving in a little deeper each time.

She felt a flash of anger as she realized he was just fucking her mouth, just using her! The feeling of anger flashed into heat that seemed to center on her pussy. She groaned around the thrusting pole. His cock went in deeper and she sucked harder, slurping as he pulled back. Fuck, it felt great, just to act like a total slut! She moved her hands back around, to grab his muscular ass, and began pulling him in harder.

She should have been gagging and choking on his cock; it was going halfway down her damn throat! But apparently Holly had also turned off her gag mechanism or something. He must think she was a total whore to be able to deep throat him like that. The more she thought about it, the more it turned her on. She grabbed his ass hard and pulled him right up to her, feeling his cock slide down her throat until her lips were all the way down. She held him that way, listening to him groan, then she very slowly slid him out of her burning mouth, looking up at him and making hard eye contact.

Just as he was almost out of her mouth, she let her teeth touch the head; then sucked him all the way in again. After four times, his eyes were starting to lose focus, so she finally let him slide all the way out, his cock glistening with her saliva.

"You're not getting off that easy; I said I need to get laid. I need to get fucking pounded!"

JoAnne led him over to the desk then she laid down on. With ass right at the edge, she pulled her knees up until they were right at her tits. The bike courier guy didn't hesitate at all, plunging his steel rod in all the way to the hilt. Even as wet as she was, the huge pole filling her; induced a gasp.

"Oh yeah! Now just fucking hammer that pussy!"

He complied without a word, his balls slapping against her ass with each drive. Moaning loudly, she stretched her legs up, then rested her heels over his shoulders, and began tweaking her hard nipples. With all her frustration earlier, her orgasms didn't take long to arrive; gushing hot juice as her inner muscles contracted on the giant cock. Feeling the force of her orgasm, he started to slow.

She snarled through gritted teeth, "Keep fucking, god dammit! Don't stop or I'll slap the shit out of you!"

He grinned and continued ramming into her steaming hole; it took two more hard climaxes, before she could feel herself relax. He began to pick up speed, and she could see from his face; he was nearly there. Suddenly the desk slid; and his cock popped out, pointed right at her; just as a fountain of sticky white cum erupted. JoAnne felt the first rope, splattering upward from her stomach, to her tits, and finally her face. Then a second rope came even harder and longer. Since her mouth was open, she got a good taste of the hot jizz. Her mouth filled up, just as the second rope a jizz abated. She stared directly into his eyes as she swallowed it all. A third rope commenced, hitting her right between the eyes. It spread evenly in both lateral directions. Covering her eye shadow and cascading down over her eyelids, and flowing over her high cheekbones. It ran along her jaw, and dribbled into the ravine of her deep cleavage.

That bitch! JoAnne was sure she could hear Holly’s haunting giggle.

He staggered back. "Shit, I'm sorry, the damn desk slid; I, uh;”

She waved him off, licking the cum off her lips. "Don't worry about it; furniture has a mind of its own sometimes."

He dressed hurriedly while she toweled herself off. After he was gone, she checked her hair one last time for cum droplets and headed home.

That night, her vibrator was buzzing pretty late.

Three on a match

The next morning, one of the red outfits was hanging in the closet; see through white blouse, red skirt, red jacket; and the now-normal high heel red shoes. Not a stitch of underwear, of any type, of course. The skirt seemed longer than they had been, the last few days, and the neckline was a little less obvious. With the jacket closed and fully buttoned, she could probably be seen in public without getting arrested. Another Christmas card lay on her counter, all it said was, "Be Helpful! Helping Others Can be Fulfilling."

Lillian wasn't in the outer office. Just as JoAnne settled into her chair, Lillian, wearing a cute little gray skirt outfit, came in, leading a small young woman with light brown hair and huge glasses, into the room.

"JoAnne, this is Mouse, from the IT office. She is going to replace the Video conference set-up this morning; a lot more than the cable, was bad."

"Mouse"; gave a weak smile, which clearly showed where she had picked up her nickname. The resemblance to a friendly, cute, cartoon mouse was uncanny. She had two prominent front teeth and her ears even stuck out enough to make the image perfect. Well, as long as she was here, there was no way JoAnne was going to get Lillian alone.

JoAnne moved to Lillian's desk while Lillian and Mouse struggled with the connections. Mouse, working in the secure comms closet, while Lillian kept reconnecting cables under the desk. JoAnne watched Lillian's cute round ass, wiggling around as she swapped out yet another piece of the system, while Mouse adjusted settings on the master board in the closet; occasionally closing the door to see the whole panel.

Going down a couple floors, to Security; to sign for a new badge and computer token that would work with the new conference system, was a relief for JoAnne.

As she walked back into her office, closing the outer door behind her, the first thing she saw was Lillian's yummy ass, still wiggling from under the desk. Looking around, she noted that everyone seemed to be still at work, just as she’d left them.

So that means Mouse was still in the comms closet, with the door almost shut. Grinning evilly, JoAnne slid up behind the desk and the lovely ass of her assistant was exposed. She rolled up her desk chair and seated herself, then slid one hand up her inner thigh; slowly; whispering, "As soon as we're alone, I'm eating that sweet pussy, until you scream! Then I'm fucking your brains out with Carlos!” That was the nickname she gave her new strap-on dildo harness setup.

Lillian didn't say anything, but spread her legs further. JoAnne then saw the jeweled stem of a lovely ass-plug, deeply set in Lillian’s lovely asshole. Where did Lillian get this lovely accessory from?

She let her fingers cruise up the soft inner thigh. Much to her excitement, Lillian wasn't wearing any panties; and she was very, very wet. JoAnne began to finger her in earnest, massaging the rapidly swollen clit and dripping pussy rapidly. Lillian was thrusting back against her hand, so she quickly slipped two fingers into her, pumping in and out until she heard a soft moan and felt Lillian's pussy muscles contacting rhythmically on her fingers.

Hearing the rattling at the comms closet door, she rapidly stood up and acted as if she was in the middle of a conversation with Lillian: "So we may have to stay later tonight until we get this sorted out."

Lillian stepped out of the comms closet. Stunned Joanne looked down at the desk as Mouse slipped out from underneath it, with a huge mousey grin, flushed face and a great deal of hair out of place. Belatedly, Joanne realized Mouse was also wearing a gray skirt, just like Lillian's.

"I'll stay as late as you want, Ma'am! Gosh Lily, you said she was great to work for, but I didn't know she was this great!"

Lillian looked confused.

Mouse's grin got even wider. "Lil, she didn't know we switched places; she thought I was you.”

Turning back to the director, Mouse continued; “Miss Steadman, It was great!

Mouse was euphoric and giddy. “LiI, haven't gotten laid since the last time we did the amateur-night strip club thing, you know? The time you and I had too much tequila, ended up in the oil-wrestling pit, and went home together? And Miss Steadmann was really good! Normally I'd scream if someone just slid their hand up my skirt, but it was so obvious she thought it was you! And I thought it would be funny; she promised to fuck my brains out as soon as we were alone. So I was going to say something, but her fingers felt so good; going up my thigh, and I kept putting off saying anything. And I've been so horny all week. I mean; I can masturbate, but it just isn't the same as having someone else do it to you. And she knows just how to use her fingers; I came so hard, I thought I would pass out. Gosh Lily, you need to learn to share!"

Mouse said the entire thing in one breath, which made Lillian begin to giggle, then Mouse joined in and finally JoAnne broke down and began to laugh.

Breathlessly, JoAnne gasped out, "I'm so sorry, I've just been so crazy horny for the last week."

Mouse giggled, "You should jump the bike courier guy; makes me wet every time he walks through the office. I end up fingering myself under the desk!"

"I jumped him yesterday, and screwed his brains out."

"Oh my gosh! Is he as good as he looks? I'll bet he's hung like a horse!"

"Huge; he's just hung like a stallion!. But I'm still horny as hell!"

After they finally managed to stop laughing, Mouse looked thoughtfully at the outer office door. Her wicked mouse-grin got wider. She pulled a doorknob sign out of her bag. It said;

"Tech Support. Sensitive Hardware Installation; Keep Out."

She walked to the outer office door, pulled it open, hung the sign on the outer knob, then closed and locked it with an evil mousey leer. "Looks like later to me!"

JoAnne felt Lily reach around her and begin unbuttoning her blouse, pausing for a moment to gently tease JoAnne's hard nipples. Mouse dropped her skirt to the floor and walked towards the cleared off desk.

"So Miss Jo, you said something about; making me scream?"

Jo shivered as Lily pulled her blouse down off her shoulders while tracing up the nape of her neck with the hot tip of her tongue.

Lily whispered in her ear. "I'm holding you to that, too. You may have said it to her, but you thought you were promising it to me. Looks like double duty for you."

It was over two hours later when JoAnne finally walked out on wobbly legs. She was even a little sore; Mouse, it turned out, had a fondness for wearing the strap-on and her compact little body had more strength than anyone would expect. JoAnne was also very glad she'd been using the vibrator on her ass so regularly; her earlier attack on Lily's ass had brought a rather delightful but slightly over the top retribution from Lily.

Mouse and Lily seemed very comfortable with each other, and it was pretty clear they were a lot fonder of each other than either of them really realized. To be honest JoAnne wondered why she'd noticed.

Dropping off to sleep was easier than ever. After a few minutes with her vibrator of course.

The Third Package

When JoAnne woke the next morning, naked as usual, she glanced in the mirror; her little holly leaf was very much edged in gold now; and the hair seemed to be turning a dark green. At least her closet was looking a little more benign this morning; the ever present red jacket, a regular white silk blouse; hardly transparent at all; her now-perpetually-excited nipples poked through, but she was getting used to that. And the skirt was actually just a little shorter than her usual choice. The heels were almost an inch higher than before, but that was a pretty easy trade-off. The shoes, at least, were comfortable.

As she strolled into her kitchen, she found Holly, and another incredibly busty elf perched on the counter, looking over a couple of scrolls. Both were drinking coffee from her coffeemaker.

"A black elf?"

Holly and the new elf looked up at her. The black elf threw her a sharp look.

"What, is she racist, too?"

Holly shook her head, and held up her scroll. "Nope. Just ignorant."

Holly looked over at JoAnne. "Elves aren't born, we're recruited."

"From where?

"Everywhere. I was recruited in Germany over 900 years ago. Koko here was recruited from Johannesburg about 80 years ago."

JoAnne really wanted to know what the hell they were doing in her kitchen, but pushing Holly had proven to be a really bad idea, so she tried to be conversational.

"So what's the recruitment profile? I mean you'd have to have some kind of criteria." She looked at the two of them critically for a second. "Cause If I was going to guess, I'd assume it had something to do with having tits like honeydew melons."

Koko gave a lopsided grin. "That's part of the 'elf upgrade package.' The Big Guy has a thing for giant knockers, so you lose a little height and gain half dozen cups sizes. They firm up and stick out, too. Gwyneth, our head supervisor, is over 800 years old, and she still has very little sag." She reached up with her hands and jiggled her boobs. "They're really sensitive, too. Definitely worth the trade."

"Doesn't that make your back hurt?"

Holly laughed. "Christmas Magic, Baby."

"The Big Guy is?"

"Santa Claus, Pere Noel, Father Christmas. Yep, he's real."

"And he likes big knockers. Do you guys, uh?"

Koko shook her head, eyes wide. "Nope, He's a one-woman guy, and Lady Winter isn't somebody you'd want to piss off. She doesn't mind skin and jiggle all around him, doesn't mind looking at it, herself. But I'd hate to think what would happen if anyone was stupid enough to go after and seduce him."

Holly nodded. "She actually does the upgrades, I think the giant ta-tas are her idea, anyway."

She suddenly looked a little serious. "So, anyway; Koko here is from the Legal Oversight office. She's responsible for making sure all the legal criteria are met for this kind of stuff. Christmas Lesson Curses, you know."

"She's a lawyer?"

Koko stiffened. "Oh? So I can't be a lawyer now?"

JoAnne flinched. "No, I mean, I guess, I just never thought of Elves as needing lawyers."

Koko relaxed a bit. "We have divisions to do everything: management, logistics, manufacturing, recruiting, and, of course; the elves who go out and spread Christmas cheer, the 'Jingle Girls,' that's by far our biggest division."

Holly caught Jo's eye. "She has to make sure that I'm not misusing power, make sure you deserved the curse. All that kind of stuff." There was an almost pleading look in her eye.

Koko nodded, sipping her coffee and picking up a scroll from the counter. "Somebody, who I won't name, but who's initials are 'Holly Mistletoe' is kind of sloppy with paperwork and has gotten her ass in trouble before; for overreacting. In fact, she's on probation. One more misuse and she's back in the toy factory, putting eyes in those creepy little dolls."

Holly shuddered.

Jo shrugged. "So what do you need to know?"

"Okay. Let's see. Were you knowingly and deliberately rude to her, contrary to the Spirit of Christmas?"

"Yeah, I kinda was. More than 'kinda.' I knocked her on her ass."

"On purpose?"

"I don't know. More, not giving a shit."

Koko's eyes slid sideways accusingly towards Holly, who looked a little stricken.

Jo suddenly felt a little sorry for Holly, even though she'd started this whole thing. "Oh yeah, I did tell her to 'Fuck off.' Twice. And definitely I meant that. I tried to get her thrown out of the restaurant." She saw relie

JoAnne's Christmas Curse: Part 1

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Mon, 24 Aug 2026 23:18:00 +0000

JoAnne’s Christmas Curse: Part 1

The Merry Misadventures of the Christmas Cursed.

Based on a post by Todd 1 72, in 2 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

The Curse.

JoAnne forced her way brusquely through the dense crowd toward the Thai place on the corner. Lord, she hated holiday shopping; screaming brats, the jarring sounds of ringing bells, the constant fucking "gimme, gimme, gimme" of the damn "charity" workers. As if they weren't really there to guilt you into forking over the goddamn money. And all these fucking people just kept on bumping against her, wrinkling her $2000 black skirt and jacket power suit. Didn't they have somewhere to be, didn't people work anymore?

Just as she broke free of the crowd, she half-ran-into and half-plowed-over a diminutive blonde girl in some kind of Christmas outfit, sending packages skittering across the frozen ground and knocking the mini-skirted kid on her ass. Great, what the fuck was a kid doing out in the middle of the day anyway; JoAnne stopped. From the size of her boobs, this was no kid; a midget?

Crap, they used something else now, like small person or some shit.

The blonde glared at her through her skewed hair while she straightened her tilted elf hat for a second, then caught herself and smiled, although, honestly, it looked a little more like she was gritting her teeth. "Merry Christmas, huh?"

JoAnne rolled her eyes and started to walk on.

"Hey! Aren't you going to help me get all this shit picked up?"

JoAnne looked over her shoulder at the flustered little blonde. "Fuck off, I'm busy" and pushed her way into the Restaurant. Finding her way to her usual seat, as she brushed her short, platinum blonde hair back, she sat and pointed at the waitress who immediately ran to the kitchen to get her order started and get her a damn drink. JoAnne pulled out her blackberry and started to pull up her emails; about 10 seconds later her system froze. Shit.

The chair across from her pulled out.

Without looking up, JoAnne growled. "I don't need any company, and I need space to work. Fuck off." Even with her cold demeanor, her pale skin, white blonde hair and blue eyes drew more attention than she'd ever wanted.

Nothing happened. When she looked up, the tiny honey blonde from outside was leaning back in the chair, staring at her with her arms crossed under her outsized boobs. She looked a like a distinctly adult-oriented version of an elf; long blonde hair, pointy ears, a micro-miniskirt and a huge rack that barely stayed in her costume. Despite the rosy cheeks and turned up nose, though, the twinkle in her eyes looked extremely icy.

JoAnne sighed. Oh well, if the little bitch wanted to be a problem, she'd have her thrown out. She started to look around for a waiter, then realized nobody was moving. Nobody at all. Inside or in the vast crowd outside. No sound. Everything was frozen. She looked back at the girl, who slowly arched her left eyebrow in an overly dramatic fashion.

"Look Sister, I'd tell you not to do anything stupid, but that would be wasted effort. You can't do anything, you're stuck in that chair until I say otherwise. Elf. Christmas. Magic. Bitch."

JoAnne started to protest, but her mouth simply froze as the Elf raised her hand.

"Don't bother. This isn't a dream. You didn't fall and hit your head. You haven't even had a drink today yet. And it sure as fuck-all wasn't that nasty bran concoction you had for breakfast. On your salary you eat sawdust for breakfast? Fuck, eat a good breakfast and spend five more minutes on the damn elliptical."

She waved her hand and JoAnne found she could speak again. "Look if you want an apology;”

The Elf cut her off again "It wouldn't be sincere and you wouldn't learn a god damn thing. Don't bullshit me, Baby, I'm a whole lot older than I look. Besides, I have your file."

She leaned back, reached two fingers into her ample cleavage and pulled out an ornate, gilt edged scroll, untied it and began to read over it: "Let's see; JoAnne Steadmann, age 32. No personal relationships. Wow, that sucks. You seem to have a severe case of Greed, brought on by a Self-Centered Nature and a Lack of Human Empathy, which seems to have developed around puberty;” Her voice trailed off as she read more.

Then: "Damn!? You're Frigid? No Orgasms? No wonder you're a grade-A Bitch! Hell, I wouldn't wish that on anyone! Got your cherry popped in High School, but didn't enjoy it at all. And you didn't even experiment at Wellesley? Damn that's like the lickety-slit capitol of the world. You missed out on a whole lot of the sweet stuff there, Baby."

JoAnne just glared at her. Whatever the hell this was about, the little blonde bitch had no right digging into her personal life.

"On the bright side you're not entirely freaked out by this, and that's rarer than you think. Too many people have lost belief in Christmas magic; they can lose it completely when shit like this happens. You're pretty enough in platinum-blonde-career bitch sort of way. And, according to Records Division, you never developed any real sex aversions, so that's good;”

Shaking her head, the Elf hastily re-rolled the scroll, tucked it back between her oversized boobs, then leaned forward looking intently into JoAnne's eyes. "I can fix this; but I have to follow the rules. I'm not allowed to just go around helping humanity; free will and all that shit. But I can inflict a Christmas lesson on you because you denied the True Meaning of Christmas. You were rude. To an Elf. Within the Fortnight of Christmas."

JoAnne leaned back in shock. "Is this going to be one of those ghosts things? I;”

The Elf shook her head "Ghosts wouldn't help you at all." She paused. "God, I love that one, it's a classic but it won't work here. I am giving you the gift of Lust. I am removing most of your inhibitions; the sexual ones anyway and 'cursing' you so that at least once a day until Midnight on Christmas Eve, you're going to find yourself in a situation that ends up in sex of some kind or other. Nothing dangerous, nothing that will destroy your life. You may end up feeling a little used and a bit humiliated, but you'll like it. Besides, a little humility would do you a lot of good, Sunshine."

JoAnne felt her anger flare "Nobody uses;” And just as quickly found herself muted as the Elf stood up.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road, I've got some fucking Joy to spread by the end of the day. Gimme the panties, you won't be needing them."

JoAnne tried to resist, but found herself standing, reaching under her skirt and pulling off her black silk underwear and handing them over.

She watched in disgust as the little Elf held them up to her nose and breathed in deeply. The Elf shook her head sadly and looked at JoAnne. "Nothing. Just Fabric softener and soap. You really are Frigid. I'm fixing that right now."

She stepped over to JoAnne and reached up under her skirt. JoAnne felt the Elf's very warm hand cup her crotch.

The Elf looked her in the eye "Damn. Closed up tighter than a bank vault." She rubbed her palm back and forth for a second. "Ah, there it is!" JoAnne's knees nearly gave out and she almost fell to the ground as she felt something hot surge through her whole body, but the Elf steadied her and guided her back into her seat.

As Joanne watched, the Elf licked her fingertips delicately. "Much better."

"That was your First Orgasm. It's been sort of stuck in the gate for a damn long time. It was a little weak from the time attenuation, so the next time it will feel better."

JoAnne stiffened. "Buh, better?"

"More powerful, longer."

JoAnne couldn't even imagine that. The Elf continued on without really noticing JoAnne's reaction.

"Here's the deal, you get a little something every day, each day gets a little more extreme and a little more intense. I've used this one a lot; it was practically standard in Vicki's day; Queen Victoria. It will be a real experience, but you can handle it. Still, if it gets to be too much, call my name three times; its 'Holly Mistletoe" and I'll pop in to help. If you really need it."

Suddenly, with a sound like a balloon popping in reverse, Holly was gone and everything was in motion. The waitress rushed up with her drink; which she drank in one gulp, and her food arrived almost immediately. She managed to catch her breath and tried to act normal, although she just didn't have it in her to bitch at the waitress for being too slow like she usually did. She even caught herself leaving a much larger tip than usual. She must be shaken up.

The Tattoo.

JoAnne slipped into her desk; the walk back had been weird. She'd been so damn conscious of not wearing any underwear, and she normally never thought about; that. And she felt almost feverishly warm, with everybody bumping into her. She kept wondering if they somehow knew she was panty-less. Worse yet, she guiltily realized she kind of liked the idea. She had practically run by her new red-headed secretary and locked herself in the office. She started to buzz the secretary. With a start she realized she couldn't remember her secretary's name. She had just gotten rid of Samantha, the brunette; JoAnne never kept a secretary very long. She was concerned about secretaries learning too much about her; shuffling them back into the secretarial pool after 6 weeks or two big deals.

What was the name of the name of the new one; thin, red hair, pixie cut, pointy nose; Lori? No. Lisa? No. Lil; Lillian.

That was it.

She punched the intercom on her phone. "Lillian, could you bring me a glass of water please?" A somewhat puzzled, "Yes, Ma'am," came back. Which made sense, after all, JoAnne never asked for anything, she ordered things, and she never, ever said please. Lillian quietly and efficiently brought her the water, then stepped out. As she left JoAnne watched her ass sway under her cream colored skirt. It was awfully perky and cute.

JoAnne squeaked.

She never, ever thought about things like that. She felt warmth growing between her thighs, more and more intense, like an itch that needed a scratch, but much, much more; personal. She shifted and tried to concentrate on work, but the only emails she had were autoreplies informing her that the recipients would be back after Christmas break. A curious tingling was growing just above her privates. She frantically pulled her skirt up and looked down. All her pubic hair was gone, except for a neatly trimmed patch just above her cunt in the shape of a holly leaf. Even more of a shock, just to the left of it was a tiny incredibly intricate tattoo of a mistletoe ball on crossed candy canes. She could just make out the words "Christmas Magic. Bitch." woven into the mistletoe. Shit. Shit. Shit. How the hell do you explain that to your gynecologist?

Maybe it was one of those stick on tattoos, she could just rub it.

The second she started rubbing, she knew she'd made a mistake. The feeling shot over her like arcs of electricity; she felt her lips go numb, her legs began to shake and her nipples grew achingly hard; she could make out the tips through the fabric of her blouse.

She wanted to stop, she really did, but she couldn't; her fingers were playing with her lips and clit almost instantly. Without stopping, she managed to pull her skirt up around her waist and pull open her jacket and shirt. She couldn't get the fucking bra off, but while she massaged her clit she reached inside the bra and began to pinch and tweak her rock hard nipples. She was so wet that her fingers slipped inside without her even realizing it. First one, then a second. She felt her orgasm hit like a train, then a second, then a third, leaving her gasping, barely able to move in her slowly rotating chair. After a few minutes she rearranged herself into some semblance of order, although her shirt and her jacket were each missing a button. No surprise there. Still, she felt better than could ever remember feeling; relaxed, warm and comfortable. She managed to make it through the next few hours, before she decided to leave. Lillian was watching her curiously; not too surprising since she never left before 5:00.

JoAnne heard herself say, "Go ahead and take a couple hours, you probably have some Christmas shopping to do or something."

That got a warm smile and a "Thank you". The rest of the evening was normal, although she did finger herself; just a little; in the shower.

The Package.

The next morning, as JoAnne dressed for work, a number of things became obvious. First off, most of her clothing was missing; not one bra or panty was in the condominium. Even the bra she'd had on yesterday had disappeared from the hamper. There was a card sitting on the kitchen island; from Holly; advising her that she would "get those Manhattan Career Bitch costumes back later" if she still wanted them. All her severe black suits were gone as well; they were replaced with very expensive looking red silk suits of a similar type with slightly shorter skirts and sheer white silk blouses with decidedly more "decisive" necklines. Her shoes had changed too; color and about an inch more heel, although they proved surprisingly comfortable. The morning passed fairly productively; with only a couple of odd glances from Lillian. To be on the safe side, she decided to order lunch in the office, but it was almost two in the afternoon before anything happened.

Lillian buzzed: "Miss, there's a bike messenger with a package; he says I can't sign for it."

"Send him in."

A tall, muscular, dark haired guy with a small, brightly colored box walked in. "Sorry, instructions were explicit, you'll have to sign for it."

JoAnne sighed and reached for the box; as soon as she touched it, one end popped open and something fell out onto the desk. A vibrator. An enormous, brightly colored vibrator. And of course it hit right on the on/off button. She and the messenger watched it buzz around in a circle on her desktop for a long second before she grabbed it and fumbled it off.

"I, uh, this friend;”

"No problem. Short blonde woman; she looked like a joker, all dressed up like an elf. Had a hell of a smirk. I figured it was some kind of practical joke."

JoAnne watched his firm ass as he left. Lillian followed her gaze as he walked out.

"Just want to bite that and hang on."

Instead of admonishing her to be more professional, JoAnne found herself nodding and smiling like an idiot. She suddenly caught herself, then hastily shut the door and retreated to her office.

The vibrator stared at her from the center of her desk. It was red and white striped, of course. About 8 inches long, had little gumdrop-like rubber nobs all over it and a bullet like tip of gold metal. She decided to stick it in a desk drawer. Another mistake. As soon as she picked it up, the tingling between her thighs began again, and she couldn't physically put the vibrator down.

She reached with her empty hand and clicked the intercom on the phone.

"Lillian. Hold my calls."

"Yes, Miss." There was something in Lillian's voice, but JoAnne realized she didn't have time to deal with it; the tingling was so intense it was almost painful; and she felt like she was suffocating in her suit; it seemed like her clothes were lined with lead weights. She fumbled her skirt off and opened her blouse and shirt, exposing her tits to the cool office air. Her nipples were standing out like fucking spikes and she could feel wetness between her thighs.

Good Lord. Her pussy was absolutely dripping. JoAnne clicked on the vibrator and began to run the tip over her excited nipples. She moaned loudly; it was a damn good thing the office was soundproof. Fuck, that felt amazing. She licked her fingers and got her nipples really wet so they stiffened even more with the cold and the vibrator. Damn, how long could they get? Her breath was coming in short pants as she slumped in the chair, and hooked each leg over a chair arm, spreading herself wide open.

"Fah-Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Pinching her nipples with her free hand she ran the vibrator all over her inner thighs, eliciting more hot juice from an already wide open and steaming pussy. When she couldn't wait any longer, she began to run the tip of the vibrator over her pussy lips; she planned to do it for a while, but when the tip hit her swollen clit, she spilled over into orgasm, screaming as quietly as she could.

"Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes!"

As the spasms died away she meant to put the vibrator down and get dressed but her hands seemed to have minds of their own, her free hand spread her pussy lips wide open while she danced the vibrator in and out, just an inch or so; then she plunged it into the gaping hole, screaming loudly as the orgasms exploded through her. Even then, as she pulled the wet shaft out of herself, her hand seemed to slip and the tip slipped down below her cunt, resting against her asshole. The vibrations felt good. Surprisingly good; almost; she felt another orgasm building. This time she did it; she began to frantically rub her clit with her free hand while she gently pushed the tip of the vibrator into her ass. By the time this orgasm settled, she realized had three fingers up her twat and had shoved the vibrator into her ass almost four inches. Still though, she felt in command enough to stop. She switched off the vibrator and shakily dressed herself, thanking God for soundproofing.

After she caught her breath, she dropped the vibrator into her purse and clicked the intercom.

"Lillian, you, uh, can resume forwarding my calls."

"Yes, Miss." Very definitely a smile in her voice. Fuck her, all she could do would be to spread rumors, and if she did she would be back in the secretarial pool without the executive bonus pay.

The rest of the day passed quietly and she decided that on her way out she would feel out if Lillian was going to say anything. As she stepped out the door she watched the cute redhead suppress a wicked little smile.

"Lillian, I thought it would be a good idea;”

Lillian intercepted the thought "...to remind me that secretaries do not discuss their bosses activities with anyone at all. It's in the confidentiality agreement we sign when we get sent up from the pool."

At first JoAnne was appalled that Lillian would cut in like that, but she decided to try to be nice; a very different tack for her.

"Umm, yeah. I just didn't want any rumors to, you know, start."

Lillian smiled mischievously. "I won't say anything to anyone, but maybe next time you might want to completely shut your blinds. And maybe turn off the intercom. Luckily, I was on headset. I don't mind sharing, yesterday sounded great. Today sounded exquisite and looked even better; but if you want privacy;”

JoAnne stared at the communication window to the office; it was open nearly a foot. She was sure it had been closed yesterday; and she was the only one with a remote for it. Even the intercom could only be turned on from inside the office. She must have left it on when she; she began to turn bright red, then raced from the office.

The Glass Elevator.

The next day was Saturday, her only real day off this week; Sunday was a teleconference with Japan from the office, so she had to go in. She stayed burrowed into her bed almost until noon; she just couldn't figure out what to do about the office. If she stayed in her apartment, she might end up masturbating, but at least she would be doing it without an audience. Just the thought of Lillian listening to her and watching her made her feel; uncomfortable, but somehow it didn't feel as bad as it should have, which worried her even more.

She finally had to get out of bed to pee; and of course, her pajamas had disappeared overnight. She went to put on a robe at least, but the only thing in the apartment was a red skirt and white shirt combo that looked like they might be made of tissue paper, and a dark red overcoat, a bit too warm for the apartment, but suitable for the snow outside. And of course, red fuck-me shoes.

After a moment of irritation she pulled on the skirt and shirt; she might as well have been walking around topless for all the

Jane Gets Back in the Game: Part 2

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Mon, 24 Aug 2026 02:06:00 +0000

Jane Gets Back in the Game: Part 2

Getting it on with Gus.

By Buckingbronco33. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

"Chloe will be at Chester's tonight, let's go back to my place." Gus grabbed my hand and pulled me quickly through the crowd and out of the door. I waved to Chloe on the way out and she shot me a wink. When we hit the night air, Gus turned back to me and brought me quickly into him, grabbing my face with his free hand and kissing me deeply. He stepped forward and pressed my back against the apartment wall forcefully. He moaned slightly into my mouth and squeezed me tighter up against him, while his tongue played with mine. As he pulled away, his teeth grazed my bottom limp and I became almost too weak to stand. He pulled my arm over his shoulder, wrapped his around my waist, and headed towards my apartment.

I leaned into him and soon his hand began to wander beneath the front of my dress. I cooed as his fingers found my nipple and he pinched it ever so slightly as we walked. I let out a too-loud moan and sank deeper into his side. "Umm, that feels so good," I mumbled to him as he began massaging my tit. "I'm so wet for you..." I admitted, looking up at him as we walked. He smiled and winked at me, and I brought my free arm across my body and grabbed his belt.

"You're so naughty!" he laughed, pinching my nipple again, which forced me to bury my face in his chest to suppress another moan. "I love touching you like this, and watching you squirm," he whispered into my ear, allowing me to relish in his warm breath on my ear and neck. I brought my hand down slightly and placed my fingers on either side of his obvious erection over his jeans, rubbing up and down along his shaft. He shuddered slightly and let out a soft groan. "Dammit, Jane. I need to get you home. Now."

He grabbed my hand and pulled me behind him while he ran the remaining 500 yards to my apartment. He swung me in front of him when he reached my door to allow me to unlock the door. I began searching for my keys in my camera bag, trying to catch my breath from the run to my place, when I feel Gus slide in right behind me. He shifts my ponytail to the side, and brings his hands down to grab my hips, pulling them back towards the raging hard-on stuffed in his \jeans. He starts kissing my neck, licking and sucking occasionally, letting one hand rise and slide beneath the front of my dress to massage my tit again. I stop looking and lean back into him. I inhale sharply when his rough thumb runs over my hard nipple while he thrusts his hips forward to push against me more. His kissing becomes sloppier on my neck and he steps me forward against the door, seemingly lost in the moment. I can feel my sex swelling and dripping, begging to be touched. As if he is reading my mind, he whispers "take off your panties," in between sucking on my neck.

I quickly shimmy out of my lacy underwear and use one leg to kick them up and grab them in my hand. Gus trails his hands down the front of my thighs. "I need to feel your wetness," he breathes in my ear before sucking my earlobe into his mouth. His left hand slides under my skirt, pulling it up and exposing my cunt to the chilly night air. He brings his fingers closer to my lips before stopping short, teasing me into releasing a begging moan. Finally, his fingers reach my lips and he slide one from the base of my slit slowly to the top, scooping up a finger full of my juices. "Umm" he hums into my ear, "you are soaking wet. That's so fucking sexy."

I let out a loud cry as he touches me again, finding my clit within seconds and flicking it back and forth a few times. He pulls his hand away and I whimper. "Open the door," he commands, and I manage to quickly find my keys and get the door unlocked, all with the feeling of his cock pressed against my ass. The minute the door closes, Gus grabs my face with one hand and my waist with the other, and kisses me with a fire. I slide my hands between us and undo this belt, open his pants, and begin trying to pull them off. He steps back to let them fall off, kicks off his shoes and grabs me again for another kiss. I bring his Henley up and over his head, while he leans over to accommodate my shortness. Our breathing is heavy, and when we reunite the feeling of his bare skin against me is maddening. I bring my hand down into his briefs and wrap my fingers around his engorged cock, and slowly start to bring my hand up and down. He is unbelievably thick for such a long cock, what I would guess to be about 7 or 8 inches. He moans into my mouth as I touch him, and grabs the fabric at the back of my neck, bringing it over my head and letting it fall, exposing my tits for the first time.

He pulls away from my grip and steps back. "You have something on your leg," he says, gesturing toward my right thigh. I notice a bead of my cunt juice running down my leg, and before I look up again, Gus gets down on his knees and grabs my ass in his hand, then slowly, he licks the spot, and continues licking up my thigh, following the line on the drop left behind. I moan gratefully. When he reaches my skirt, he pulls away and licks his lips, his eyes meeting mine. He winks at me and grabs the top of my skirt, bringing it down in one swift motion, leaving me completely naked. He stares at my bald cunt and his eyes focus on another drop of juice that is falling from my lips. He catches it on my leg with his tongue again, and this time continues licking until his tongue touches me outer lips.

He hesitates here for a moment, and I grab the back of his head with my hands. "Please," I whisper, and just like that, his tongue ventures deeper into the folds of my cunt. I hold onto his head for dear life, trying to maintain my balance as wave after wave of pleasure rock through me. I feel his tongue slide from the base of my slit up to my clit, where he flicks back and forth several times before diving back in. Then, his tongue stiffens, and I feel him probing it deeper inside of me. I sway as I approach an orgasm, and his hand on my ass stabilizes me. He brings his other hand up and slides first on, then two fingers deep inside of me, in place of his tongue. "Oh, God," I cry out, leaning farther forward to shift his fingers to the perfect spot, while his tongue come forward and he sucks my clit into his mouth. "Fuck! Yes!!" I respond, grinding my clit into his face. His brings his fingers in and out of me, finger-fucking me hard, and uses his lips to rub my clit, rolling it between them. With that, I fall over the edge. My body tenses, my vagina walls tighten around his fingers and I let out a deep scream as I cum hard his Gus's face. He pulls away in front of me just in time to catch me as I fall into him, having lost the use of my legs due to the intensity of the orgasm. We fall down onto the carpet just in front of the door, and he brings me into him, kissing my neck and chest, making his way to my tits while I try to catch my breath. "That was incredible," I manage to say through labored breath as his tongue flicks across my hard nipple.

"Umm," he moaned into my nipple, "you taste incredible. Everywhere." He starts licking down my body, heading towards my cunt once again.

"I think it's your turn Mr.," I say as I pull him back up to me and kiss him fiercely. I let me tongue explore his mouth, loving the taste of my juices in his mouth. As I pull away, I push against his chest to roll us over, putting me on top. I kiss his neck, licking and sucking as he had done to me. "Relax," I cooed to him as I made my way to his chest, flicking my tongue over his nipple, then sucking it into my mouth. He gasped when I did, so I repeated the maneuver on his other nipple. I continued licking and kissing down his body until I reached his briefs.

"Before you do anything, you should know that I got tested three weeks ago, and I'm clean," Gus stopped me to say.

"When I found out Archie was cheating on me, I got tested right away. I thought I had only been with one man, but in reality, I had been with all of his fucking women, too. Luckily, I'm safe as well," I said as I pulled down his underwear and finally released his monster of a cock. I had never been with anyone except Archie, and not only did Gus eat me out better than he ever could, his cock was much more impressive. It shot up in the air when I released it, knocking me in the stomach and intimidating me with it's size. I leaned down and brought my tongue to it's base, the slowly slid it up to the tip, licking the drop of pre-cum from his head. "Yum," I said, licking my lips.

I brought my head back down and slowly slid his engorged mushroom head all the way into my mouth. I flicked my tongue in circles around the head for a few seconds, eliciting a grown from Gus. I used my hand to jack his cock up and down while I played with his head for a minute longer, before quickly dropping my head down and sinking as much of his cock into my mouth as I could. Gus inhaled quickly and thrust his cock up, trying to bury it deeper into my throat. He reached the back of my throat with enough room left for my hand to stay on the base. I brought my other hand to his balls, massaging them while my tongue lapped circles around his shaft, which was still buried inside my mouth. I began bobbing up and down, alternating with my hand bobbing, often stopping to lick the base of his head gently or to suck one of his balls into my mouth. As I blew him, I got more and more of his shaft into my throat, eventually nearly bottoming out.

After a few minutes, it was clear Gus was close. He was moaning frequently, and his thighs were tense and jumping. I brought as much of him into my mouth as I could, and sucked hard, then began slowly bobbing up until I reached his head. When I did, I grabbed his hand and placed it on the back of my head, then increased the pace of my bobbing. He quickly took the hint and began throat fucking me, pushing my head down hard and fast on his cock, thrusting into my face until he was deep in my throat, and pulling out again. "I'm going to fucking cum, Jane!" He cried, and thrust one more time. I pulled my head back so just his head was in my mouth, and I sucked down him cum as he squirted load after load into my mouth. I released his cock and swallowed, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

Gus lay back, panting. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath. "That was amazing..." he said as he sat up to meet my level, still breathing heavily. He looked me in the eyes, then let his gaze trail down my naked body as I sat in front of him on my knees. "Damn," he whispered, and I blushed.

"You're not so bed yourself," I replied, running a finger down his chest to his happy trail, swirling a wiring hair around it playfully. "Fitting that the birthday boy ended the night in his birthday suit." At my touch, Gus started to react, his penis twitching slightly and beginning to grow again. "That was fast," I admonished as my hand drifted down to stroke his growing shaft.

"Your touch is electric to me," he explained, and pulled me in for a delicate kiss. "We don't have to continue if you don't want to," he said between light kisses. "I don't want to push you too far, too fast."

I gave him a questioning look and rose to my feet. I took his hand and brought him to standing, then walked him towards my bedroom. I pushed him down onto my bead and crawled on top of him. "I want you, Gus," I said as I leaned down to lick his earlobe. I bit it quickly before whispering into his ear, "don't make me beg you for it." I felt his cock spring to full size against my stomach, and I ground my cunt lips into the base, lubricating it with my cunt juices.

"Fuck, Jane, I need to get inside of you," Gus moaned as I reached behind myself to play with his balls with one hand. He enjoyed my massage for a few moments before he sat up sharply and roughly threw me to the bed, climbing on top of me. He sucked my nipple into his mouth while his hand massaged my other tit. I found his cock with my hands and stroked softly. He brought his cock down towards my cunt and rubbed it along the lips, eliciting a moan from me. "Do you have a condom?" he questioned, breathing over my saliva-soaked nipple.

"Bedside drawer," I manage, gesturing to my nightstand as I grind myself into his long shaft and groan. He scrambles to the drawer, finds and condom, and struggles with the wrapper for a moment before he slides it down over his huge cock.

"Are you nice and wet for me?" he questions mischievously as his fingers slide over my lips, as if testing the waters.

"Yes..." I breathe, "get inside of me. Now." I tell him as I drag him back on top of me. He lines his head up with the entrance to my sex, and in one swift, forceful motion, he slams into me. "Fuck!" I cry out, part from pleasure and part from pain.

"I've wanted to fuck you for so long Jane... You are so fucking tight," Gus says to me, looking into my eyes with his cock buried deep inside of me. I start moving my hips back and forth against his cock, and soon he is thrusting in opposition. After a few minutes, his giant cock is buried fully inside of me, his balls hitting my ass when he thrusts in.

"Yes, Gus, Yes!" I cry out, "Harder! Fuck me harder!" I moan deeply as his speed and force increase, and I can hear his groans of pleasure. I start to tense up and know I am close to another orgasm. Gus buries his head in my neck and bits my shoulder. "Oh god, yes! I'm so close!" I yell to him.

He lifts him mouth to my ear and says, "You going to cum for me, you little sex kitten?" His words send me over the edge and I lose all control as my cunt tightens around his cock, making it more difficult for him to thrust in. He pushes against the resistance, never altering his speed, to keep my orgasm going as long as possible. I feel my cum leaking around his cock and scream his name. When my orgasm subsides, I beg him to pause and give me a break to catch my breath. He stays buried inside of me, and goes back to kissing along my neck while I try not to pass out from pleasure. When my breathing slows, he brings his lips to mine and kisses me forcefully before quickly pulling his cock out of me. It felt wrong without him deep inside of me, and I whimpered.

"Don't worry hot stuff, there is more where that came from. Lay on your side," he commanded. I did as he asked, and found it incredibly hot when he directed me.

"Whatever you want, baby, I'm yours to play with," I said as I looked over my now turned shoulder and pulled him in to kiss me. He brought my body close to him and I could feel his cock poke between my legs. I pushed my tongue into his mouth, and in the same moment his head found my entrance and he plunged into me again. I gasped at this. "Fuck, that feels so fucking good," I said as I looked him in the eye. I had never fucked in this position before, and it was incredible. Gus was hitting my perfect spot with every thrust, and I soon was lost in pleasure, letting my head lean back into him as he pumped in and out of me for what felt like hours.

"Put your leg out, away from you," Gus whispered into my ear. He didn't have to ask me twice. I quickly brought my top leg forward and felt Gus's hand land firmly on my ass, slapping it with passion. The shift made his cock reach even deeper, and that accompanied with the hard ass slap was too much for me. "You like it when I slap your ass, you dirty little girl?" he asked as my cunt walls contracted around his cock. He reached around and started rubbing my clit furiously.

I yelled out, begging him not to stop. "Oh yes, yes, right there, don't stop baby, don't stop, I'm fucking cumming! Oh God, yes! I'm cumming! Fuck!" I felt cum squirt from my vagina in what felt like buckets as my whole body spasmed uncontrollably.

"Oh god that was so fucking hot," Gus whimpered behind me. "I'm going to cum, too! Fuck!" he cried as his pumping increased in speed and his hands squeezed me so tightly I thought I would break beneath his grasp. Finally, his cum burst forth in string after string while his penis rested deeply inside of me. "My God, Jane. You're a fucking animal," he managed to get out before collapsing down and spooning me, his cock still buried in my folds. I snuggled into him, loving the feeling of him behind me, his warmth radiating onto me, and his penis throbbing within me. We laid there for some time, then Gus rolled over and out of me and stood up, sliding the condom from his cock. "I've never cum so much," he announced, and slapped me on the ass. "Where is the trash can?" he asked, and I pointed him to the bathroom door as I struggled to break my sex coma.

I heard the shower start to run just as I was drifting off. Seconds later, Gus's arms wormed there way beneath me, and he lifted me off the bed and walked me to the bathroom. It was already steamy from the hot water. "What're you doing?" I asked him, mid-yawn,

"Let's get clean," he said, setting me down and poking me in the stomach in a teasing way, getting me to giggle. I stepped into the shower and grabbed his hand, bringing him in with me. He wrapped his arms around my small frame and kissed me passionately as the water fell over our heads. The kiss grew in fervor, and he grew more forceful in his grip around me. He lifted me up and I wrapped my legs around him without breaking from out kiss. His hands explored my back, and he took a step forward, pushing me up against the wall of the shower. His cock popped up again between us. I ground my clit against his shaft and sighed, letting my head drop back into the shower of water.

"Umm, that feels good," I murmured as he licked and kissed my clavicle and neck. I used my core to continue to grind against his cock, my fingers digging into his back as I grew closer and closer. Gus was busy sucking on my ear and biting my neck lightly. One of his hands raised up and he pinched my nipple with two fingers, squeezing and tugging on it. That surprise made the difference, and I came again, nearly pushing Gus off balance with my spasms. He dropped me slowly back down, smiling devilishly at me.

"You liked that, huh?" he teased, his hand running through his cum soaked happy trail. I brought my hand to meet his, got some cum on my finger and brought it to my lips, nodding seductively. "Damn, you are killing me, woman!" he laughed, but his eyes locked onto me with intensity. I dropped down to my knees and brought his cock quickly back into my mouth. "Fuck!" he cried from surprise and enjoyment. I licked all around before slowly pulling him out of my mouth. I place his cock between my tits and brought them up to wrap around him. I looked up to him and let the water fall down onto my face.

He began thrusting softly between my tits, but his speed soon increased, and his repeatedly hit my in the face with the head of his cock as he got more and more immersed in titty fucking me. I let my tongue hang, so his head would hit it and feel the heat and wetness of my mouth. He grabbed my head to keep himself steady and groaned as I put more pressure on my tits to tighten around his junk. His balls started slapping the underside of my tits, and I moaned in appreciation. "Titty fuck me hard, big boy," I said to him, and he cried out.

His cum splashed all over my face and chest, hitting my eye, hair and the walls of the shower. I couldn't believe how much cum he had left. When he finished, I licked up the cum around the head of his cock and stood up, facing the rain to wash the cum from my face. He grabbed my tits from

Jane Gets Back in the Game: Part 1

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Sun, 23 Aug 2026 02:05:00 +0000

Jane Gets Back in the Game: Part 1

Girl was cheated on, finds her groove, after build-up at the party.

By Buckingbronco33. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

"Are you almost ready, Jane?" Chloe called through the bathroom door of our shared apartment.

"Not even close, dude. Remind me why I am doing this again? I just want to stay in tonight and watch Desperate Housewives." I called back, while I sat on the edge of the bathtub, flipped through a magazine, and avoided getting ready. Chloe barreled in, unhappy with my response.

"Jane, buck up! Archie was a dick and you didn't deserve the way that he treated you, but it has been two months! It is time to get back out there and start experiencing life again. You can't hide in this apartment forever," she said as she moved my legs to sit beside me on the bathtub. I stuck my tongue out at her and continued flipping through the magazine.

"Girl, cut it out!" Chloe yelled at me while she grabbed at my magazine. I resisted her, and we had a short tug of war with the pages before we both fell into the bathtub, laughing. "Look. Archie is going to be there tonight, but that's no reason for you not to go! Chester just met this guy, and he showed me some Instagram pictures. He is DELICIOUS. You have to come out with us, he is so excited to meet you! Plus, Rachel is expecting you to be there. It wouldn't be a party without good-old Jane!"

I had agreed to go to the party at Rachel's forever ago, but that was before. Before the only man I ever loved, had ever been with, fucked some woman in his marketing course. Several times. Enough times that I eventually caught them in the act. Archie said he was sick, so I brought over some chicken soup for him. His roommate let me in; in hindsight, I think he actually felt sorry for me and let me in so the deception would finally end. Anyway, I only needed to see Archie in his typical place on the bottom for about two seconds before it was over for me. The problem was that my whole life had included him. I'd known him all through elementary and Junior high, and we were high school sweethearts, now going to the same school. I think things had been over for a while, but I just don't know how to be single. I feel completely uncomfortable playing a role that isn't "long-term girlfriend". I know that sounds so stupid, and I never wanted to be that way, dependent on someone else. It was just so easy with Archie, we knew each other, and we didn't have to work at it. Maybe that was part of the problem.

Chloe has let me mope around for a while now, but I think she is finally getting tired of it. Her boyfriend, Chester, met some guy at the gym, and she has been wanting to set me up with him. Chester is incredible, he loves Chloe so much the two of them actually make me sick they are so sweet together. But now, with this birthday party that my friend Rachel was hosting for her brother, Archie's old roommate, she was determined. "Show me his picture, then I will decide." I told Chloe indignantly. She pulled up his Instagram in a few seconds, and I have to admit I was impressed. He was damn fine, and it had been a while since I had gotten any. She saw the small smile on my face, and I knew I was doomed.

"I knew it! I knew you would be into him! Ha! You're coming, no excuses. Now let me do your hair, straight or curly?" She asked devilishly.

"Straight, so I can pull it up when that room gets too hot," I replied with a huff. I had a new determination I was going to get laid tonight. Not like I had ever had a one-night stand before, but change is good, right? When Chloe finished my hair, I did something I am sure I will regret. "Chloe, just make me look hot, ok?" Her eyes lit up at that request; she had begged me to let her give me makeovers in the past, and I had outright refused, as I was never one who put a lot of effort into her appearance. Don't get me wrong, I take my health seriously, and swim nearly every morning, which has given me a toned body that works with my petite 5-foot frame. I had always been pretty lean, but since the ice cream portion of my diet has increased due to my breakup, my ass and tits have grown to a size that I am happy with. I had to go up a cup size to a C, and I had a nice little bubble ass. However, I generally left my wavy auburn hair alone, as it was long enough to be a pain to deal with in the morning. I rarely wore makeup because it all came off when I swam anyway, so it seemed like a waste.

But now, I wanted to make heads turn, and Chloe was the woman for the job. She had dark hair with straight across bangs and very pale skin, making her appear almost ghost-like, but she rocked the hello out of it, and was always dressed to the nines. She was the stylish one for sure, and had a flair for the dramatic. "You are going to look so sexy!" she yelped at me while she began applying eyeshadow for my smoky eye look. "Your green eyes are going to be popping out of your head!"
"Is that what the men want these days? Girls who have lost their eyes?" I joked back at her. She glared at me, stuff her tongue out, and then continued happily with her work.

"I think it is about time that you get some, girl. It's been too long, and you are always cranky!" She quipped back.

"Hey!" I cried, laughing, "I was in mourning!"

"You're 22, Jane, and he cheated on you, you aren't a widow! Now, you're almost done," Chloe declared as she left the room, only to quickly return with one of her many little black dresses. "Put this on," she said as she threw it at me, "and let's get going, Chester has been waiting to come over with Paul for like an hour."

"Fine," I cried back from the bathroom as I grabbed the dress from my head. I took a good look at it, and noticed that there was barely any fabric at all. I shook my head and slid it over my slender frame. The entire dress consisted of a tight skirt and a billowy halter top, with an open back and deep slit down the front. I slid off my bra and ran to my room to find some black heels to match. Before I finished lacing up one shoe, I heard the doorbell ring. I wasn't surprised, we lived in apartment land in our University town, and pretty much everyone we knew lived within the maze of complexes. It made for short walks but an uninspiring view.

"You coming out anytime soon?" Chloe called to me just as I finished with the second shoe.

"One second!" I yelled back at her, as I did a quick once-over in the mirror, grabbed a hairband and snagged my camera bag from the door as I headed out to meet Paul.

"Damn, you look amazing! Do you really need your camera?" Chloe questioned. "You always are carrying that thing around!"

"Yes! You never know what I might capture at this party; maybe some good blackmail to get you to do your dishes," I replied with a wink. I turned to the tall, dark and handsome man in front of me. He was at least 6 feet tall and was clearly built with substantial muscle. His skin was a deep, dark brown color and he was wearing a fantastic sport coat. Overall, he was a giant hunk of man meat. "Hi, I'm Jane," I said to him, and reached my hand out to shake his.

"Hello Jane, I'm Paul," He replied in a deep, sexy voice. "You do look fantastic, but the camera bag is an odd touch." He said to me.

That may not have been the nicest thing to say, but he is gorgeous. This is going to be a good night, I thought to myself as I smiled at Paul. "It's my signature."

"Let's get our asses to the party, I want to get DRUNK!" Chloe cried as she shoved the three of us out the door.

When we got to the party, it was already bumping, and filled to the brim with party-goers. Chloe leaned in to whisper to me, "Chester and I are going to leave you and Paul to have some alone time. Love you!" She kissed me on the cheek and she and Chester dove into the crowd.

"Can I get you a drink?" Paul asked, leaning down towards me to make sure I heard him over the loud music, since there was over a foot difference between us.

"That'd be great, thanks!" I yelled up at him. Before he turned around, he reached around and grabbed my ass.

"Good, feel free to get nice and drunk tonight, I can take care of you," He whispered in my ear and turned away.

That might have been a little much, but I'm sure he means well, I think as he barrels through the crowd. I grab my camera from my bag and start snapping photos of the party-goers, the neon lights adding an interesting touch to my photos.

I begin to get immersed in the lens, when I hear my name from across the room. "Jane, hey!". I look around the dark, crowded room to find who was calling me. "Over here!" I waded into the crowd to try and get a better view, but I am so short that I couldn't see over anyone's shoulders. Suddenly, I feel a hand touch my waist and stop me from continuing into the crowd. I feel the person behind me use their other hand to pull my hair behind my ear, and I hear a man whisper into it. "Behind you," he said as his breath danced over my ear. I melted a little bit before I regained my composure and tried to turn around in the compact space surrounded by other bodies. His hand stays strong on my waist, as if he is worried about losing me in the crowd.

I flip my head around and see Gus, Archie's old roommate. The one who took pity on me and let me into the apartment that fateful afternoon. I had forgotten how handsome he was. Much taller than me, but not quite 6 feet, Gus was a strong presence in any room. His shaggy brown hair curled slightly around his bright blue eyes, and he always had a smile on his face. I had seen him around Archie's apartment without a shirt on every occasionally, and he was definitely built, with a 6 pack that certainly rivaled Archie's beer belly. "Oh, Gus, hi!" I finally responded, laughing. "Sorry about that, I was trying to figure out who was calling me, and I got a little... lost in here." I gestured to the hoard of people around us just as someone bumped into Gus's back and sent him stepping closer to me, until we were only inches apart.

"It was cute watching you. It must be hard to see anything from down there," he teased me, poking my stomach with his free hand, but still holding my waist with the other. I giggled when he poked me, ticklish as I am, and I wiggled around while he laughed. We were so close I could feel his breath on my naked shoulders.

"Oh yeah, happy birthday Gus!" I stammered, remembering why we were at this party and feeling like an idiot. "23... you're such a grown-up," I teased, punching him lightly in the shoulder.

"I know, I feel like I should be getting a dog or something," he responded, and we both laughed at the idea of a dog running around in any of these small apartments. "Rachel's a great sister for throwing this party for me, but I barely know anyone here!" he laughed. "I wanted you to know that Archie is here. I'm sorry, I told Rach not to invite him. He's such an asshole, I can't believe he did that to you. He... it's like he didn't understand how great he had it." He paused, and we stared awkwardly at each other for a few moments before he continued. "Anyway, Jane, I want you to know I'm here for you and I won't let him near you, I promise. But I'm so glad you came! You look incredible, by the way."
I smiled shyly and looked up at him, wondering what he was thinking. "Thanks, Gus. Don't worry about it, Chloe warned me he would be here and I'm okay with it. I'm glad I came to, I wouldn't miss celebrating your birthday!"

He smiled wide and leaned down to me, "Can I get you a drink?"

"I have that taken care of, douche-bag," Paul announced as he walked up to us with two drinks in his hands, one nearly empty already. "Step off my girl."

"Hey, Paul, that's not cool. This is Gus, the birthday boy, and he is not a douche-bag, he is my friend. Gus, this is my new friend Paul. I am Not his girl." I replied sternly to the two of them. "But thank you for bringing me a drink."
"Gotcha, no hard feelings," Gus gestured to Paul. "I'll catch you later, Jane," and he walked into the crowd.

Paul downed his drink quickly, threw the cup on the ground and yelled into the kitchen from his high stature, "Chester, throw me a beer!" I ducked just in time to avoid getting nailed with a beer can.

"Sorry, Jane!" I heard Chester scream/laugh while Chloe slapped him on the arm. Paul opened the beer and it fizzed over, spilling all over my dress and hair.

"Shit, my bad," Paul said, mid-laugh. "You look sexier wet, though," he winked. I was starting to get really tired of Paul, and honestly was concerned about drinking the open drink he offered me. I decided I would not be drinking from it.

"No worries," I said back, trying to wipe the excess beer off my chest and wring out my hair with one hand.

"Let's dance," Paul said, and he wrapped his arm around my waist and lifted me up, wading through the crowd toward the "dance floor".

"Okay, you can put me down now," I told him when we reached the area where people were dancing.

"You're just so tiny, it seemed easier to move you where I wanted you," Paul replied, clearly trying to flirt with me, but for some reason it was incredibly off-putting. He didn't move his hand from around me, and started to dance wildly, drinking from his beer every couple of seconds. I was just about to turn away and leave Paul for the night, until I say Archie from the corner of my eye, staring at me while Torey, a girl from our high school, stroked his arm and spoke to him. I decided I better get into dancing with Paul rather than seem like I was here alone, which would only further humiliate me. I started moving to the beat along with Paul, his free hand running up and down my side and ass, until his beer was gone. It was almost enjoyable, until he stopped, saying he wanted another drink and dragged me by the arm to the kitchen. I dropped my drink down the sink when he wasn't looking and set the cup down, and was about to tell Paul I wanted to go find Chloe when she popped up beside me. Chester started talking with Paul and Chloe pulled me aside.

"What happened to you?" she asked, gesturing to the wet ends of my hair. "You look like a wet puppy."

"Paul happened," I replied, rolling my eyes and pulling my hair into a ponytail. "He is a little bit out of control."

"You seemed to be enjoying yourself on the dance floor," Chloe commented, catching me in my mischief, as always.

"Archie was staring at me. I acted on a survival instinct," I spat back, feeling ashamed.

"Well, that's what I came to talk to you about! Archie came over, fully drunk, and badgered Chester for twenty minutes about who you are with and if you guys are dating. He is totally bugging out!" Chloe exclaimed.

"Good, he deserves to "bug out", he's an ass," I replied, feeling relieved for some reason. "I don't think I can keep hanging out with Paul just to make him feel bad, though, it is almost worse being with him."

"Well, you better make your choice fast, because Archie is coming over here!" Chloe screeched. I panicked and grabbed Paul, pulling him through the crowd and yelling goodbye to Chloe over my shoulder. I dragged Paul through the crowd until I was far enough away from Archie to feel safe, in the other corner of the apartment, near the hallway to the bedrooms.

"Missing me?" Paul questioned me before burping in my face. "Sorry, my bad," he said before he reached down to grab my ass again. I rolled my eyes and then jumped when he reached both arms under my ass and lifted me up against him.

"Put me down, Paul, this isn't going to happen," I told him, trying to wriggle out of his hold.

"Oh, you don't like to do stuff with people seeing?" he questioned, "I get it, hang on," and he took a couple of steps into the hallway, concealing us from the rest of the party-goers. He pushed my back up against the wall and leaned in to kiss my neck.

"Paul, stop it!" I told him, pushing his shoulders away from me, trying to keep him from kissing me. He brought one hand to the back of my neck and forced my face towards his, bringing me into a sloppy kiss. I pulled away as hard as I could and turned my face. "Paul, let me down, now! Stop!" I yelled at him.

"Come on, baby. I just want to have a little fun. Shut up and enjoy it," he replied, and he clamped his hand over my mouth. I tried to cry against his fingers, but his hand was nearly as big as my face. He pushed harder up against the wall to keep me up, and began running his hand up my thigh, trying to touch me.

I turned my head sharply towards the main room of the apartment and got away from his fingers. "Stop, now!" I cried, and in that moment, I saw a blur of a fist and Paul released me from the wall and fell sideways.
"What the fuck?!" he yelled and turned toward his attacker just as I did, only to find Gus with both fists up, ready to hit him again. "Dude, what the fuck? Leave us the fuck alone!"

"She told you to stop, man." Gus replied coolly as he stepped in front of me. I adjusted my skirt back down and stepped behind him farther.

"You just fucking assaulted me!" Paul cried. "I should call the Cops!"

Rachel ran up to us. "Get out of my apartment. Now," she said firmly, pointing towards the door.

"Whatever, this party sucks anyway," Paul declared as he headed toward the door.

Gus turned around and wrapped his arms around me. "Are you okay, Jane? I'm sorry I didn't come faster." He held one of his hands in my hair, and I felt how quickly his heart was beating against my face.

Before I could answer, Chloe ran up to us and pulled me into a hug. "I'm so sorry for bringing him, Jane, I had no idea! I'm so glad you are okay!"

I pulled away, "I'm fine, I'm fine, everyone calm down. Thank you, Gus, I appreciate the help. I am okay! As long as he is gone. Let's get back to celebrating your birthday! I need a drink now!" I cried, and everyone around cheered and got back to enjoying the party. I walked to the kitchen to get myself a drink, and then found the couch, slightly exhausted from what almost just happened.

"Can I join you?" I hear someone say, and I look up to see Gus with a beer in his hand.

"Sure, as long as you don't spill on me, too," I joke and scoot over to make room for him. "Don't you want to go and enjoy your party? Dance and play beer pong and all that jazz?" I asked him.

"Like I said, I barely know anyone here anyway," he replied, smiling at me. "Are you sure you're okay?" He asked again, locking eyes with me in a way that truly expressed his concerns.

"Yeah, thanks to you," I said. "I don't know what I was doing with him anyway, what a lo

Offers I Couldn't Refuse: Part 2

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Fri, 21 Aug 2026 18:59:00 +0000

Offers I Couldn't Refuse: Part 2

Ditzy Donna and Ralphie's first Christmas.

Based on a post by Kirk 48 2002, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.

There was a crash in the living room and Paulie Toucan's head popped in the semi open door. "Hey you love birds, where you want the tree?" Three more heads looked around the door. Donna and I scrambled for our clothes.

"Don't get dressed on my account," said the pickpocket.

"Don't you believe in knocking? What broke out there?" I asked, shielding Donna from their gaze as she got decent.

"Did something break?" asked the stupid looking one.

"I heard something smash," I replied, pushing my way out to the living room. There was the tree, or part of the tree sitting in the room on top of my glass top coffee table that now was in a thousand pieces. The top part of the tree was still out the door in the hallway and out the common entry door. "I thought you said you were going to cut it," I said furiously.

"We are. We needed to measure first. Okay boys, start measuring," Toucan said.

"Why didn't you leave it outside until it was cut?" asked Donna, now fully dressed.

"We're not gonna cut it outside and wake everybody up. That wouldn't be nice," said the one that looked smarter than he probably was.

"Look what you did to my table!" I shouted.

"Shush. you'll wake the neighbors," said Stupid.

"We need to cut it right here," said the pickpocket, putting the measuring tape away.

Toucan dug a circular saw out from under three and plugged it in. I didn't think it would be any louder than a vacuum cleaner, but I didn't count on it being one from hell. "What's this thing made of, it won't cut," shouted Paulie. He tried again and smoke started wafting up from the tree trunk, but as far as cutting it, not a scratch.

"That's a new blade, I just put it on before we came over," screamed the smart looking one over the din.

I noticed that we were getting an audience at the doorway. I looked outside and could see more and more lights going on the other buildings as the saw wailed on. Sure enough, one of our township's finest was suddenly standing in my place with his arms crossed. That's usually not a good sign. Paulie noticed the man in dark blue and said, "Hi Tony. You want to take a look at this thing. I can't get it to cut."

"Shit, somebody called the cops," I complained.

"Nobody called this in, I heard it, driving by." He turned his attention to Paulie. "Why are you doing this at three o'clock in the morning?"

"This was supposed to be a one and done deal, as a favor to the little lady," he replied, pointing to Donna. "But it won't cut." He kicked the tree.

"Let me see the thing," said Tony. "Pull the plug and get me a screwdriver. Who put the blade on this thing?"

"I did," said the smart-looking one, all proud of himself.

"You're an idiot," stated the cop, as if it were as plain as the nose on Toucan's face.

See, I called that one.

"You put it on backwards." Tony made the switch and said, "Plug it in and try that."

Paulie tried again, and the saw cut through the tree like a hot knife through butter. "Hey, thanks Tony," said Toucan.

"You done making noise now?" Tony asked.

"Yep, all done," I said, wishing everyone would go away.

Tony left, and eventually so did the crowd. Between the six of us, we managed to get the tree up, transfer the decorations, the lights, and clean up the shattered coffee table. Paulie asked the boys to wait for him outside and turned his attention back to us.

"Sorry about the screw up, tonight. As far as the table goes, I'll find you another," he said to me. "Now young lady, is there anything else I can do for you, this morning?"

"I was wondering. Do you have any idea where my dad is? I haven't heard from him since my mom and him split up. She says she doesn't have a clue where he is," she said, sounding depressed.

"She doesn't? Huh," he replied, rubbing his chin. "I'll put out some feelers, and see what I can find out."

"Thanks for even trying," said Donna, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"No problem. My pleasure," he said. Then he turned to me. "Try not to be such a douche bag," he said and left.

I was tired; but before I headed to the bedroom, I looked at the tree. "It really turned out nice."

"I knew it would," Donna said, stifling a yawn. "I'm going to bed."

Attic Treasures and Tales.

"Junior!" Pop shouted, breaking Ralphie's concentration. "Did you find the box of ornaments?"

"Yeah Pop, here." he said handing the box down the ladder.

"Your Mother will be relieved that you found it. What are you doing up here?" Ralph Senior asked.

"You told me to go through all the boxes before we donate them. I found some of my old grade school stuff, and was looking it over, that's all."

"Are these the boxes that are going to the Goodwill?" he asked, looking up through the hatchway.

"Yeah, here you go," Junior said, passing them along to his dad. Settling back under the light, he continued to read.

Christmas Eve.

"Ralph get up!"

I'd just closed my eyes. Why does my groin hurt?

"Ralph, you promised to take me to the store so we could be first in line!"

"What time is it?" I asked, trying to focus my eyes.

"It's five-thirty, come on!" she said, shaking me.

"Five-thirty...am?"

"Come on, let's go!" she said, waving a cup of coffee under my nose.

Last Day of shopping.

It was still dark out when we stood in front of JC Pennys and it was cold. At least they were opening early. The parking lot was filling fast and the crowd was growing. I felt bad for whoever it was, that going to open that door.

"I can't wait to get you your present," she said.

"Don't go spending your money on me," I answered, watching my breath float away.

"Are you kidding, look at this wad of cash," she said, waving her money in the air.

"Put that away, are you nuts?" I barked, looking to see if anyone noticed.

A short, balding man in glasses, was at the door. "Now, I want everyone to take it easy coming in," he shouted through the glass. "There's plenty of everything for everyone." He turned the lock and just barely made it out of the way as Donna and the crowd lunged forward. "Take your time!" he shouted, which had exactly the reverse effect.

Checking Out.

By nine o'clock, we were working on our second round of stuff, and Donna didn't seem to show any sign of slowing down. Everything she bought was on sale or closeout. She was very good at stretching a buck.

"How much cash do you have?" I whispered into her ear.

"About four-twenty," she answered. "Taxes killed me."

"How much do you think is in here," I asked, meaning the carts.

"If my math is right, about seventy five," she replied.

"How much more do you need to get?" I asked, having lost track of this person, and that aunt.

"I think I'm about done except for wrapping supplies," she replied. She loaded the second cart with wrap, bows, ribbon, tags, and tape and headed toward the checkout line. "I still have to get your present, that's going to require me doing it alone. If you want to, we can split up now."

"Do you need the car?" I asked.

"If it's okay with you," she replied.

"Okay," I said. "I'll meet you out front in an hour. Is that enough time?" I asked, handing her money to cover my stuff in the carts.

"Yep, I know what I'm getting."

We parted ways and I headed right back to the coat section. Donna was still wearing the same coat and sweater that she wore in ninth grade and they were well past their prime. Thanks to my snooping, I knew her sizes, and soon I'd picked out a few blouses, and a new pair of jeans; to go along with the coat and sweater. They also had pajamas on sale, with matching robe and slippers. Perfect. I was set; and soon outside waiting for her. It was only a few minutes before she pulled up.

"All done?" we asked in unison. I tossed the bag in the back seat and Donna drove us home.

Wrapping Up and Sucking Off.

I wasn't much help to Donna when we got home. I brought one load of gifts in, and flopped on the bed. I must have been dead to the world, because I never even noticed Donna lie down next to me, and cover us with a blanket. When I woke, Donna was an inch away from my face; snoring like a drunken sailor. As I glanced out the window, I noticed three things;

One was that it was getting dark out,

two it was snowing,

and three, Paulie Toucan was waving at me on the other side of the glass.

When he saw that he had my attention, he motioned to me to open the window. I did.

"Hey Douche Bag, I got that table I told ya about," he said, then blow in his hands.

"That fast?" I asked.

"I told ya last night it was no problem. Different size packages fall off the back of trucks all the time. So, ah, ya gonna let us in, or do we just stuff it through the window?" he asked, shaking from the cold.

I opened the front door, and he and Paulie Asshole carried it in. It was an elegant looking mahogany, glass top coffee table. It was a light year better than my old one. Words escaped me. "I don't know what to say."

"Fuckin' figures," said Asshole.

"There's no need to say anything, but a simple thank you would be nice, Douche Bag." Toucan said.

"Thank you. Now, why do you keep calling me that?" I asked.

"What?" asked Paulie Toucan, looking at Paulie Asshole as if he really didn't know.

"You know, Douche Bag," I replied.

"That's your name, isn't it?" he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"No, it's Ralph."

"I thought it was his name," he said; and turned toward Asshole, "Didn't you think it was his name?"

"Yeah, I thought it fuckin' fit him perfect," Asshole replied.

"Well, I hate to break up this magic moment here, but we got to get back to the tree lot. Say hello to your sweetheart for me; and tell her I passed on the word about her pop," and out they went.

After admiring my new table, I went to check on Donna. She was sitting up on the bed wanting to know what was going on. I told her about the table, and about Paulie's message. That put her in a good mood.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

I shrugged my shoulders, "Okay."

"I mean down there," she said pointing at my groin.

"Oh, it's still kind of sore," I replied, not kidding around.

"Let's have a look," she said, tugging at my belt. She pulled my pants and underwear down. "Uh oh."

"Uh oh what?" I said looking down. She turned on the desk lamp and I saw the 'uh oh'. I was black and blue from the base of little Ralphie, up to an inch from my navel.

"Do you feel okay other than just being sore?" she asked, not sure whether to laugh or cry.

"It doesn't hurt much other than to touch it. I don't think we'll be, you know," I said, making humping motions with my hands, "Any time soon."

"Does this still work?" she asked tapping mini me. She got her answer quickly. "You got hurt yesterday and didn't get to enjoy it. I'm going to do something I never did before. I don't know if I'm going to like it or not, but I'm willing to give it a shot, considering I'm the one that injured you." She reached over and put on her Groucho glasses. "If I were you, I'd really try to enjoy this; because it might be the only time I ever do it."

She pulled me close to the bed and took my cock in her mouth. Never taking her hands off my thighs, she used just her lips and tongue over the head and top of the shaft. The feeling was silky, soft, and it kind of tickled. At first, I thought that I could last forever because there was little or no friction. I tried to look down and watch her, but her hair was blocking the view. I closed my eyes and enjoyed myself like she suggested.

Just as I was about to tell her that nothing was going to happen, a strange tingling sensation started on the underside and base of ‘little Ralphie.’ It slowly moved up to the tip like a slow burning fuse. My thighs shook and I gasped, as a jet blasted out and caught Donna off guard. She pulled her mouth off me, gagged, and coughed. What was still down there shot out on her cheeks and neck.

"I'm sorry!" I said, grabbing her some tissues.

"I think it might be a while before we try that again," she replied between coughs.

Food and Drink.

Monday, before I came home, I went across the bridge to Jersey and got myself a six-pack of Miller and a bottle of pink wine for Donna. She was busy cooking food for Christmas Day, including a big boneless ham. All we had to do was stick the stuff back in the oven to heat it up and eat. There was enough food there to last us the rest of the week; which was kind of nice, since we were both off until the Monday after. As the ham and casseroles cooled in the kitchen, we went to separate rooms to wrap our presents.

Tuesday was Christmas Eve and we both had work until six. When I got home Donna was already there having only two blocks to walk.

"Want to go out to eat?" she asked.

"I don't think anything's open," I replied.

"The Ho-Wah is open," she said; whipping out a pair of chopsticks.

Ten minutes later, we were sitting in the Ho-Wah, an authentic Chinese restaurant that was considered the place to go on a date, to impress the girl. I didn't need to impress Donna, I needed to feed her and quick. There weren't many people in the place, but more customers were filing in as we waited for our server.

Donna had started to munch on the noodles at the table, dipping them in hot mustard. "You gotta try this," she said, scooping in some more.

"That's a little too hot for me," I said, dipping mine in duck sauce.

"Hello," said an attractive middle-aged Asian woman. "Would you like our special for two, tonight?" A beautiful Siamese cat sat on the floor next to her.

"That sounds good; also we want a pu pu platter," I said, feeling extra hungry.

"Pu pu not on special," she stated.

"I know, we want the special and the pu pu platter," I repeated, thinking I wasn't being clear.

"Pu pu not with special, you must pay extra," she said.

"I understand. I'll pay extra for the pu pu platter."

"Pu pu for two is not cheap."

"Okay, forget the pu pu," I said in defeat.

"You get pu pu. I already wrote it down, see?" she said stuffing the ticket in my face.

"Okay, we'll take the pu pu platter."

She glared at me. "You want pu pu or not?"

"Yes!" I barked back.

She turned around shouted something in Mandarin.

The guy working the wok said, "Pu pu for two!"

The man chopping vegetables shouted, "Pu pu for two!"

The fellow cleaning the litter box yelled, "Pu pu for two!"

The lady served us our tea and the cat took turns rubbing mine and Donna's legs. Dinner and the pu pu platter came while Donna and I made small talk. The conversation eventually led to her father.

"I still have no idea why he dropped off the face of the Earth like that. I mean, just because he and my mom didn't get along any more, didn't mean he had to stop talking to me. I always thought we were close, but I guess I was wrong," she said, finishing her plate.

I didn't have any words of wisdom for her. My parents were only five minutes away and I saw them twice a week. I had no basis for comparison. She had little to say after that, and we finished our meal and headed home.

Squatters Scram.

As we walked in, I noticed something not quite right, namely Jim trying desperately to get out the living room window.

"Stop!" I shouted. Jim pulled his head back through the opening. "What are you doing here?" I said, trying to sound as irritated as I actually was. I really didn't need to ask, with him trying to hold up his pants, but I wanted to hear him say it.

"Funny you should ask that," he said, buckling his belt. "My friend needed to use a bathroom and we just happened to be in the neighborhood," he explained while Shaky waved to us from outside.

I wandered into the bedroom and it was a wreck. "That's it! Both of you get your asses in there and fix it up! Now!" I hollered, pushing Jim done the hall. Donna yanked Shaky back through the window and shoved her toward Jim. I stood in the doorway with my hands on my hips watching the two. "Change the sheets on the bed."

"They ate the ham!" shouted Donna from the kitchen.

"You two ate a ten pound boneless ham? That was supposed to last me and Donna until the weekend!" I asked astonished.

"We were hungry," said Shaky.

"What, like Fred and Wilma Flintstone?" I looked back toward the kitchen and asked, "Is there anything else missing?"

Donna looked around the corner and sheepishly replied, "They got your six-pack of Miller too."

Jim and Shaky were done with the bedroom, and stood there; like two kids, knowing a spanking was coming. I pointed to the front door, grit my teeth and said, "Get out. I don't want to ever see either one of you again."

They both stood there.

"Get out!"

They went quickly and silently. I may never see Shaky again, but something tells me that I haven't seen the last of Jim.

"What does that leave us with, in there?" I asked, feeling low.

Around the corner of the kitchen, a potato with her Groucho glasses on and forks stuck in for legs with Donna's voice said, "Well, they didn't touch any of the stuff I made to go with the ham. We could make sandwiches tomorrow and get another ham on Thursday. You can make another run across the bridge for your beer too. We both have the rest of week off, so it won't matter that much."

"I guess," I said to Mr. Potato head.

Donna came out of the kitchen and gave me a hug. "Let's put the presents under the tree."

There was one heck of a lot of presents sitting there, when we were done. It almost made the tree look less immense.

She grabbed the potato guy and held it up to my face. "I'm tired. Want to go to bed?"

"Are we going to have sex? I don't think I can take any pounding tonight," I said as a reminder.

"I'll go easy on you, but wait here until I call you in," she said, skipping into the bedroom.

'I hope I don't have to do Mr. Potato head too,' I thought.

"Okay, come on in," I heard her say through the closed door.

I heard bells jingle. 'Oh boy...'

There she stood, dressed as Kris Kringle; complete with boots and hat with jingle bells on the top. Well, she wasn't completely dressed like him; she was bottomless.

In the deepest voice she could muster, she said, "Ho, ho, ho. You've been a good boy this year. Tell Santa what you want."

"More oral sex?" I asked, hopefully.

"Santa takes a pass, try

Offers I Couldn't Refuse: Part 1

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Thu, 20 Aug 2026 18:58:00 +0000

Offers I Couldn't Refuse: Part 1.

Ditzy Donna and Ralphie's first Christmas.

Based on a post by Kirk 48 2002, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.

"I really did used to like the holidays," grumbled Ralphie Persons Junior; as he rubbed the same spot on his head that he'd whacked several times in a row on the same slanted ceiling beam. It was the first weekend in December, and he was crawling around the attic, looking for boxes of holiday decorations, that his mother wanted hauled downstairs and put up, the day after Thanksgiving. Having just started his first term at community college, Ralphie Jr. managed to dodge that bullet by complaining that he had a couple of papers due in English Composition and Early American History. The papers being due the Monday after Thanksgiving was true, but he'd left out the part that they were already finished. With a mighty grunt, he shoved a box of Easter lawn decorations aside and hit his head again. That time he saw stars. "If she wants them down so bad, why doesn't she do it?" he grumbled louder to himself.

"Because she's more than twice your age, she doesn't like to hit her head, and she's got you to do it," said Ralph Sr., looking like a disembodied head sticking up, out of the floor of the attic. "Now, if you're done complaining, I'm sure you've got some boxes to come down; so pass them to me and I'll take them down the ladder for you."

That suited Ralphie just fine, because trying to balance the boxes as he slid out the access hole, and then find his footing on the ladder; was no easy chore. He pushed what he already had found, toward the opening and looked for more. After hitting his head once more, he was convinced he'd found them all. "I think that's it, Pop."

"You're missing the box with the tree ornaments," came his mom's voice through the access way.

Ralphie took a deep breath and counted to ten. "Alright mom, I'll keep looking," Jr. said, sounding a bit miffed. Actually sounding a lot miffed.

"We're gonna go and start setting up the outside lights and blow up characters," said his Pop through the hatchway. "That'll keep us out of your way a while and let you blow off some steam. I don't want you saying something to your mother the wrong way and have you regret it later."

"Okay," sighed Ralphie, nodding his head as his Pop disappeared down the hatch. He took a long look around the attic and didn't see a box marked ornaments, so he decided to straighten and organize the entire loft by opening each box and marking them. He found that some of the boxes had his old clothes that he wore in grade school."Why doesn't she get rid of this stuff?" he thought to himself. Then he chuckled."If she's waiting for grandkids she's got a long wait."

He didn't really have a girlfriend but his parents thought he did. For some reason they both kept pushing the idea of him and the girl he took to the prom, Louise Johnson, as being a couple."A couple of dorks," he thought. Actually, he did take Louise AKA 'Looney Louise,' out on a few dates during the summer. She was kind of funny and interesting, but her shenanigans and her perpendicular hair, far outweighed the positives, except for her tits. "Whew," Jr. said, shaking his head at the thought of them. He remembered when she showed them to him, and he started to daydream.

Double Feature.

They were in the back of the movie theater and she was jamming popcorn in her mouth. He saw that she had as much 'fruit of the Redenbacher' on her shirt as she still had in her trough of popcorn. "I think you better do something," he said, pointing in the general direction of her breasts.

She put the bucket under her boobs and pushed the lucky kernels back in causing her breasts to bounce several times. "There, better?"

Other than a few genuine imitation butter stains she was all clean. She settled back in her seat and shifted around a bit almost slumping, forcing her breasts up and out. Between the seat in front of her and her tits in her face, Ralphie didn't think she could see the screen. He didn't realize he was staring at her, until her eyes slowly turned toward him.

"Imagination running wild?" she whispered, placing her trough of corn on the floor. "I bet you've got a hundred different visions of what they look like, going on in your head. What do you think they look like?"

Ralphie sat there with his mouth agape.

"Oh come on. Maybe they're perky, droopy, hard, or soft. Maybe they have veins all over them. Maybe my nipples are large like acorns, small like cherry pits, or even big and puffy," she whispered, encouraging him in her game.

Ralphie still sat there with his mouth agaip.

She sighed. "No idea, huh? Okay," she said, unbuttoning her blouse down to her navel and unclasping the front hook on her bra. She snapped them open and said, "Behold!"

Attic of Family Artifacts.

He was startled out of his obcessions by his father's strong voice.
"Junior, did you find them yet?" his Pops voice said from the hole.

"No, I decided to go through everything while I was up here. By the way, why is Mom saving all my old clothes? Some of this stuff goes back to first grade," he yelled loud enough for his Pop to hear.

"I don't think she's actually saving it. It was more like putting winter or summer clothes away till next year but you grew out of them and they just didn't come back down. Mark those boxes 'Donations', slide them toward the hatch, and we'll get them down the road to the Goodwill later. Just make sure you go through every box you want to donate to make sure there isn't anything important in them," yelled Pop.

"Okay," Ralphie yelled back.

Thinking back to Louise, as he continued his work, it reminded him that he hadn't heard from her since she went out west to college. She didn't come home for Thanksgiving, and he wondered if she was coming around for the Christmas break. Several times, he thought to call to just say hello; but she didn't have a cell phone, (something about messing up her brain waves). He didn't have any idea exactly where she was staying out there; so that was that.

Eventually, Ralphie found the ornaments and pushed them toward the hatch. The other holiday decorations were neatly stacked by which event came next on the calendar; and all that was left was for him to go through the boxes he marked 'Donations'.

Most had nothing but clothes in them and a few had some old grade school projects in them like a Thanksgiving turkey made from a tracing of his hand. He put that kind of stuff aside for safekeeping and opened the last box. Under some toddler clothes, he found some folders and spiral wire-bound notebooks that belonged to his Pop. The folders contained some receipts and warranties for products long gone. Like that fax machine, and the Commodore Computer.

The wire bound notebooks had some recipes and newspaper clippings about people his parents knew. One of the books had some writing in it, kind of like the notebook he'd found in the garage that spring. He flipped through it and saw some of those same magic words he'd seen in the last book like, 'boobs and tits'. That was dad's old email password for his AOL account. On the first page, it had a header and a title:

"Journal:
Thursday, December 26, 1974."

"Christmas With the Ditz"

Ralphie settled himself under the dangling light and pulled the string to turn it on. "Okay Pop, entertain me," he said as he began to read...

Dating Donna.

It's been two weeks since she came back into my life. Donna. Ditzy Donna. I figured I'd write this down while it's still fresh in my mind. It's been kind of a crazy two weeks but what other kind would it be with her? She made the decision not to move in permanently with me until she found a job to help contribute. The job hunt took exactly fifteen minutes when she walked two blocks to Kiddie City and landed a job demonstrating toys. That sure took a stretch of imagination to see her potential as a goof-ball playing with toys for kids. At least she didn't have to go too far for the party favors she wore out on a regular basis. Her smock was always loaded down with a usual assortment as well as her favorite, a pair of Groucho glasses. The guy that hired Donna remembered her from somewhere in the past and gave her a huge starting rate. Most people started at two dollars and hour but he gave Donna six. I'm still a little jealous of that, considering I've worked for the same place since junior high school and don't make much more than that.

By Wednesday of her first week, the manager realized he had a goldmine with her and worked her as long as she wanted. When they closed Saturday night, they gave her a paycheck for sixty-four hours at $6.00 an hour plus overtime, plus a hundred-dollar bonus for a job well done. The boss even cashed the check for her. Suddenly Donna was a rich ditz with the next day off and Christmas coming a few days later. On that Saturday night, the 21st, the true meaning of Christmas started to come shining through: Love, generosity, and ditzyness.

Shopping Spree.

I heard the door slam and came out of the bedroom.

"Look," yelled Donna, fanning her riches out in front of me.

"They could be all ones," I said, standing on the other side of the room.

She bunny hopped herself over to me and flapped the fanned greenbacks in my face. Nope, they were all twenties and tens and as crisp as the day they were made. "We got to go shopping," she said, slurring her words from a dollar induced high.

I looked at my watch and said, "It's nine-thirty, everything's closed."

She crossed her eyes and gave me a Bronx cheer. "It's the Saturday before Christmas! Everything is open until midnight!"

"You said you wanted to go out to eat tonight. We can't shop and eat at the same time," I said. Donna suddenly looked very disappointed.

"Come on, Ralph. I worked real hard this week for this," she said, letting her fist full of dollars flop down to her side. It was immediately covered by her six-inch too long sweater sleeve.

"I don't feel like dealing with that tonight. I just want to and get something to eat and then hang out with you," I said, trying to sound as sincere as I could. That and the fact that we hadn't had sex since last weekend when she came back into town. Not that we didn't want to, it was a matter of female biology.

"Do you promise to take me tomorrow?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Bright and early?" she asked, holding her index finger up at me.

"Yes."

"Bright and early as in first in line when they unlock the door?" she asked, now wagging her finger at me.

"Ah, yes," I replied not as rock solid as before.

She looked at me a second and tilted her head. "Cross your heart?"

"Yes," I said, crossing my heart.

"Pinky swear?" she asked, holding out her little finger to me.

"Yeah, pinky swear," I said, hooking my little finger with hers.

"Good. Now before we go out I need a shower 'cause I stink," she said, walking past me to the hallway. I watched her as she walked in the bathroom, turned on the light and the transistor radio. One by one, pieces of clothing were tossed out into the hallway and then the door closed. I heard the water start running and turned to go to the kitchen. The bathroom door opened, her hand popped out, and her finger beckoned me to follow.

I may not be the smartest but I didn't need an explanation on that gesture. Even though I'd just gotten a shower an hour before I shucked my clothes and was in the bathroom faster than you could say 'All the way!'

She was completely under the shower with her eyes wide open watching me as I hopped in myself. Little Ralphie was stiffly bouncing with glee at in her direction.

"Don't get too frisky, we don't have a condom in here," she said, handing me the soap and washcloth. She was right; I had nearly four dozen brand-spanking new assorted Trojans sitting in their boxes, individually foil raped, tucked safely in the top drawer of the nightstand next to the bed.

I told you I wasn't the smartest.

Shit.

Well, there was no use crying about it so I started to give Donna a good scrub down. I started down at her feet and worked my way up, taking extra special care on her privates and giving her boobs two coats of wax. She did her face herself to make sure she'd removed her make-up properly while I got the shampoo ready for her. Somewhere between squirting her head and getting up a full head of lather, her hand had managed to attach itself to little Ralphie.

"Feels like someone didn't like being ignored this week," she said, blowing soap foam away from her mouth. "Think he'll forgive me?"

"I'm sure he'd be happy if you tried," I replied. Just then, Sam Cook's 'Chain Gang' began playing on the radio.

Donna started bending her knees and moving to the music, giving me hard tugs with every 'Hooh! Aah!' She mouthed the words, 'Well don't you know...' and then said, "I'm going to make you cum before the end of this song," while blinded by lather and spitting soap.

"Okay," I squeaked, while trying to clean that wild mop of blond hair.

She sang some, mouthed the words some, and gyrated as she worked on me to the music. She started using both hands, making sure that every time the 'Hoohs' and 'Aahs' came on, the tugs were more forceful. By the time he was singing about going home to see his woman, I wasn't scrubbing her head any more, I was holding on for dear life. My left knee started shaking and I gagged on a mouthful of water as she coaxed me over the edge. As he asked for some water 'cause he was thirsty, the first blast hit her on the stomach. The second and third hit her thigh and kneecap and the rest dribbled down into the water.

Donna held me until I went soft while I leaned on the shower wall for support. "I told you I'd make you cum before the end of the song," she said, spitting more soap at me. "Now do you mind if I rinsed off too?" she said, still blind with lather.

"Sure," I said, climbing out and drying myself off.

Out To Eat.

At 10:30, we were slamming the doors to my car. We could've been out of my apartment ten minutes faster but even with a super heavy-duty hair dryer it takes forever to get Donna's hair to the point of just being damp let alone dry.

"So, where do you want to go?" I asked, as my '64 Malibu turned over.

Donna thought for moment. "I guess we're a little late for the 'All the Way House'."

'Thank God,' I thought.

"I'm hungry, but I just don't know what I'm in the mood for. Just head over to Main Street and we'll look for something open," she said. A car pulled up behind us, blocking our way out. "Uh oh," said Donna when she saw who got out of the car.

It was my good buddy Jim. "Hey guy, how ya doing?" He asked leaning down to my window. "Hey mop head," he said, nodding in Donna's direction. "I see you're heading out. What a coincidence. How about letting me use the place for a little while?"

Jim usually dropped by on Friday nights to 'use' my apartment. Being it was Saturday I thought I was safe. Guess not. "I don't think so."

"Come on. We'll be gone before you know it," he said, looking back at his smoking piece of crap. Tonight's girl looked about ten years older than us; and her make-up was crooked.

The memory of last week's debacle was still fresh in my mind, and I couldn't help but get nasty. "How much is she costing you?"

"Be nice," he said, wagging his finger at me. "It's a cousin of my sister's friend. She's got Parkinson's or something."

"Getting pretty far down the list, aren't you?" asked Donna, shaking her head.

"What, are you kidding? That shaking bit could take things to a whole new level," he replied, humping my door to stress his point.

"No, for a lot of reasons; starting with the fact that you owe me twenty dollars, for the money you took out of my wallet."

He tossed a twenty down on my lap.

"You also owe me fifty for that citation for disturbing the peace."

Two more twenties and a ten fluttered down the steering wheel and my legs.

"My apartment still smells like burnt popcorn!"

He went to his car and came back with an unopened air freshener.

"You smashed my TV!" I shouted.

Jim sighed. "I can't help you there right now."

Donna weighed in; "He said no, Jim. Go down by the lake. She can give you a shaky handjob like all the other high school kids parked over there," Donna said. "Now move your car, I want to eat!"

That was my Donna; ditzy, yet assertive.

I didn't bother letting Jim in on the fact that I had the citation taken care of. Well, I had fifty bucks toward a new TV. He left, and we were finally on our way. We passed a few burger places, but neither of us wanted one. Then Donna pointed. "Oh! Vito's is still open!"

Vito's pizzeria and restaurant opened its doors in 1950, in a strip shopping center; as a simple pizza and sandwich shop. Business was so good that a few years ago when a store next to it went vacant, he expanded; turning it into a table and booth establishment. The food was excellent and they had a BYOB policy that most customers utilized. Though their menu was somewhat pricey, it was a successful family business. No, I don't mean Vito's family. I mean that other Italian family.

You know, wink-wink.

Now, I don't know for sure if Vito is one of them, but there's always a table that has four to six men in suit coats playing cards, while people come and go, greeting them with envelopes as they shake hands. It's always the same four to six. One thing was for sure at Vito's:

Skipping on the check, was not recommended.

I'd heard rumors of those that tried; nothing factual, just stories. Tonight the check will be paid, cash. I enjoy walking without a permanent gimp.

We entered the place and the first thing I noticed was all six suits were in attendance at their usual table, playing cards and the place was all decked out for Christmas. Donna picked a table far enough away from the door so she could take her coat off and not get cold, but she left her very long sleeved cardigan sweater on. I left my coat on and sat down. I looked around, saw a few people I knew, and only a couple of empty tables.

"I guess there's a lot of hungry people, finishing holiday shopping tonight," I said.

"Look at that tree," said Donna, marveling at a giant white fur lit up like a, well, like a Christmas tree with all white lights standing in the corner. "We need to get a tree."

"The apartment complex kind of frowns on that, Donna. They're fire hazards. They don't mind artificial trees," I said, trying to salvage her good mood.

"What? You mean those stick aluminum trees that have a lighted dial that changes color shining on it? My grandparents had one of them. It looked stupid," she replied. "I want one like that!" she said loud, pointing across the room.

That got the attention of the 'suits' and they turned to look.

"Donna!"

A Milky College Encounter

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Thu, 20 Aug 2026 01:57:00 +0000

A Milky College Encounter

A college science project and Alice's milky mess.

By Aester - Listen to the ►podcast at Steamy Stories.

It was the last day of the biology 101 project. With Alice and I having missed the first lesson we had to finish up the project while the rest of the class started the regular lessons again. As we walked through the hallway, to the independent study area, I walked slightly behind her, so I could steal glances at her magnificent ass. I really had hit the jackpot with this project; by a stroke of luck we were both not present for the first lesson, which meant we got paired up automatically as the only remaining college freshman students.

I was supposed to be at the state university, but the new concussion protocols disqualified me. I was still trying to get used to not being the star athlete on campus. Now I had to rely on my brain for my future success in life.

Normally I would never get the chance to do a group assignment with her. Even though we got along pretty nicely, she is the center of attention, which meant she was always preoccupied, or engaged with other people. Alice is basically the perfect girl. She s from another suburb on the other side of the metropolitan area from my high school.

The first thing anyone would notice about her is her body. She has probably the best apple bottom in the school, which she usually has on display, in her tight jeans. She has wide feminine hips that flow into a small, perfectly flat waist. Her ass sways gracefully through the halls of the community college.

Yet this waist is rarely admired as it is obscured by her massive chest. Her boobs are the most implausible part about her. They are the size of her head, if not slightly bigger. I've never seen her cleavage, but her shirts, struggling to stretch over those colossal mammaries, and then tucked into her jeans, draws more attention than any other young woman could, flaunting a deep cleavage.

As if that wasn't enough she has a cute face, full luscious lips (you could mistake her for having a well-done lip filler) and beautiful brunette hair with blonde highlights. Her personality was great to go along with that. Her pleasant and engaging friendliness really surprised me. When I first met her, I expected her to be bitchy, but she was anything but that. She has a warm personality and is always flaunting her beautiful smile. I really enjoyed talking to her, as did probably every other guy, and most girls in school, but I rarely got to.

I imagine most women with a body like hers would be self-absorbed and exploit guys. And that s usually because they can get away with, well, anything; because of their hot, sexy body. But Alice treats everyone with kind acceptance and mutual respect. She seems undeterred by lewd comments and ogling.

This project however, was a godsend, since it had given me a lot of time with her.

Our Own Study Group.

We sat down in a little secluded space and got to work, though we were basically done with the project already.

"There is no way!" Alice exclaimed, upon me telling her one of those random facts (did you know the human nose never stops growing?).

"Yeah it's true!" I replied, she was obviously overestimating the rate of this growth, but I was having a little fun.

"In fact, since the first time we met, your nose has gotten considerably bigger!"

"What!? You're bullshitting me!"

"No it's true! Look it up"

She proceeded to google it on her phone as I grinningly waited.

"Wow, you are right" she said, with her eyes still glued to the phone.

She proceeded to feel her nose, as if to make sure it was still the same size. I couldn't tell if she was just acting or actually serious.

"You're so smart" Alice continued.

Okay, now I knew for sure that she was playing.

"I know, I know" I responded.

"And you're good at other things" I said glancing down quickly at her bust, which now partly rested on the desk.

"You did not just!" She responded with a serious look. I broke out laughing and she struggled to keep her act of being infuriated, betrayed by her smile.

We had been doing this kind of flirtatious teasing since the beginning of the project, and the privacy of this desk allowed me to push it further. Unfortunately I couldn't tell whether she was as into me as I was into her, as she was pretty flirtatious with a lot of guys. I guess she just really enjoys the attention.

"I'm going to go to the toilet" she announced.

I got a beautiful view of her ass as she walked down the hallway, she probably realized that I was looking and swayed her hips a little more, enjoying how she was teasing me.

Alice had a reputation for staying in the toilet for very long, much to the annoyance of teachers. It probably had something to do with the strict no phone policy of the school, which meant if you wanted to use your phone, you had to get out of the classroom some way or another.

As I knew it would take a while before Alice returned, I tried to get more comfortable in the wooden desk chairs. There was a serene quietness in the hallway, it was pretty late in the day, and if you paid very close attention, you could hear the chatter of the last lessons in the distance. Usually I would mistake this atmosphere for being a lonely depressing one, but with Alice's presence it seemed perfect, like we were alone in the world. I took to scrolling on Reddit, but found myself daydreaming about Alice, with some gif playing endlessly in the background. I didn't know how to feel about Alice, like probably any other red blooded male I was sexually attracted to her, and had found myself fantasizing about her while masturbating. Her body was simply ridiculous, I had yet to find a porn-star that had a body that could match Alice's.

Since the start of this project something changed however. Alice was more in my thoughts than ever, but I couldn't stand the sexual fantasies I had had about her. Knowing what this meant I admitted to myself that I had a crush on her.

I pondered if I should send her a text sometime, especially since the project was coming to an end, our friendship would probably deteriorate if I didn't undertake something.

"Being very productive I see." A voice came. I tore myself from my daydream as Alice smiled and winked as she sat down. I hadn't even heard her approach. I quickly put my phone away.

Something seemed off, as Alice immediately got to work without saying a word. She bent over the desk while writing. For a second I admired how her breasts rested on the desk. I wondered how weird it would be to have those huge things hanging off your chest, always getting in your way.

Alice looked up, I quickly diverted my eyes, caught in the act of staring. Yet something caught my eye and I quickly returned my gaze, looking her in the eye. Her eyes were slightly red, as if she had cried.

"Wow, Alice, what's wrong?" I asked her, shocked at the sudden seriousness of the situation.

"Oh, it's nothing. I'm just not feeling great" She responded, her usual positive energy seemingly vanished.

For a second I accepted the answer, but quickly realized how weird it was that in about ten minutes she went from her usual happy self to almost crying. I got the feeling that something serious had happened.

"Alice, you know that you can trust me; right?"

"Did something happen?" I continued.

She looked up at me. Her eyes suggested she could start crying any second. I unconsciously felt a sort of anger building in myself, like I wanted to protect her from whatever had hurt her like this.

"Alice?" I softly and slowly repeated, as she seemed lost in thought.

After a few, tense, seconds she finally gave in.

"Come with me" She said, barely loud enough to hear, as she stood up.

In the Women s Faculty Restroom.

I walked with her through the hallway. My emotions were through the roof, the same anger was there but also a kind of fear.

She walked a bit slower, with her arms crossed under her heaving boobs. She went into a faculty bathroom and I followed her. Once inside she locked the door behind me. This faculty bathroom was different in that sense, it still had stalls but for some reason the entire room could be locked.

She leaned against the side wall and looked at the ground, not willing to make eye contact.

"I have a condition" She started. I need to know you ll respect my private health issues, because I desperately need help now.

She paused, hesitant to explain. I didn't know what to think. Before I could say anything she took a deep breath and continued. Sometimes the pill causes a rare set of conditions. Over this semester, I developed some rare side effects from birth control pills.

"All my hormones are hyperactive. I lactate. My boobs make milk, even though I'm not pregnant." Then she explained, My gynecologist thinks this will subside, but for the past few months I ve been dealing with a dairy farm on my chest.

I was astounded with this information, but she continued.

"I need to pump the milk out every few hours, otherwise they swell and start to hurt badly."

I was dumbfounded. She proceeded to look through her bag and then produced a breast pump. There was a suction cup with a bottle, and attached to that was a small plastic tube that led to a hand pump.

"It's broken" she explained. She made eye contact with me for the first time since we came into the bathroom. It was obviously awkward for the both of us, but the seriousness of the situation cut through this awkwardness a little. Before I could react she put the pump system in my hands.

"I need it to work." She continued.

"I don't know how I'll get through the rest of the day, otherwise; and it hurts like hell." Her voice quivered, then transitioned to a silent whimper.

It was all still a blur of info for me to process. I just looked her in the eyes, and hoped that I was expressing empathy, while I took the pump from her.

I'm pretty technically inclined so I started to inspect it, hoping it was something easy to fix. It felt weird handling the pump, it being such a feminine item, it made me feel like I wasn't supposed to touch it. I quickly established that there couldn't really be anything wrong with the suction cup and bottle, so I proceeded to look at the pump section. I noticed how Alice stuffed her hand under her shirt, when she touched her breast she let out a heavy sigh, affirming that they really were painful. She must have noticed me looking, but acted as if I wasn't there, which in turn made me feel a little more at ease, since I still had a strong feeling I wasn't supposed to see all this.

I tried to test the hand pump for a second, but then noticed that a part of the plastic casting had cracked. There was no way it could be repaired. Alice looked a little calmer, maybe because now she wasn't alone with this problem anymore.

"Alice. Eh. It's not going to work anymore. The casing is cracked along the intake fitting. It sucks air and prevents the buildup of a vacuum of low air pressure. I can't repair it without an epoxy resin, and that will require several hours to set up and harden." I broke the bad news to her. I can try to have it repaired overnight?

"Oh okay, Thanks," she responded, with obvious disappointment.

Alice moved so she could sit on the large bathroom sink counter, and closed her eyes, probably deep in thought. We stood for a few minutes in silence, both not knowing what to say or do. I wanted to ask her if she had a spare pump or if there was some other way to get the milk out, but I knew must have considered all that before.

"Screw it, there's no other way," she broke the silence. She d been building up the courage to sacrifice her modesty, in hopes that I could at least show her some emotional support while she attempted to employ the manual expressing process that her gynecologist s nurse had told her about, a few months ago.

Alice stood up and removed her shirt. I stood in awe as I her bra was revealed.

"Should I, leave?" I asked her, gesturing to the door.

"You don't have to," she answered.

I wasn't exactly sure what she meant. She turned towards the wall and unclasped her bra. After having removed her bra, she turned towards the sink covering her nipples with her arm. Her breasts overflowed her arms and looked even bigger now exposed. She removed her arm from her breasts and I saw them in their full glory. They were plump and swollen. Almost like when a flat-chested woman first gets cheap D cup silicone implants. But these were more naturally hanging from her chest. There was no tell-tale crease on the topside of her mammaries, where a cheap silicone implant would take on the look of an over-inflated water balloon.

Viewing her naked upper body from behind was marvelous! Still in her tight denim jeans, her wide hips flowed upward beautifully into her waist; which was quite narrow. I stepped aside and got a full view of her front torso in the large wall mirror, and her flat tummy made her globes look even bigger. They looked incredibly firm and sat high on her chest, I wondered if this was her natural shape or the swelling she talked about. Her pink areola was about 2 inches across and topped by a huge nipple, about as thick as her (admittedly small) fingers. Around her areola angry blue veins emphasized how engorged her breasts were.

She started to manually press around her breasts by hand. Her small hands struggled to circumnavigate her massive swollen breasts, being so firm and large. Her heavy sighs indicated how painful and frustrating the process was.

It took about half a minute of tedious massaging before the first milk droplets started coming. With her breasts being so engorged, I expected the floodgates to open and rain milk, but her efforts were only met with small squirts. In a bout of frustration she put both hands on a single boob and squeezed, finally producing a sizeable stream.

I started to feel uncomfortable as I was just staring at her without a purpose. Finally I realized that there was a reason I was still here. I gently approached her and she turned toward me slightly in a gesture of approval. She d been too bashful to ask, but hoped I d offer to help. I slowly, hesitantly, reached out and placed my hand on her breast with her nipple between my thumb and index finger. The first thing I noticed was the heat, then the firmness. I gently squeezed and was surprised to find how little the breast yielded.

"You can squeeze harder," she encouraged me.

I squeezed harder and then felt the breast giving in under the pressure, a steady stream of milk shot out, over my shoulder and hitting the mirror at the other end of the counter. It was followed immediately by another sigh. It seemed my larger hands were better suited to this task, looking at her other boob, which she was still trying to milk herself, her fingers didn't reach much further than her areola.

After a little while I settled into a sort of rhythm, it seemed like the flow of milk was only now getting up to steam, and she confirmed.

"Yeah, that's good; like that."

We stood in front of the sink. The tiled wall, mirror and sink were slowly developing a coat of thousands of milk droplets. Whatever mess we made, we could take care of later, now the only thing important was relieving her.

Now that I was getting the hang of it, she released her grip from her other breast, since her own efforts seemed to be in vain. She closed her eyes and used her arm to lean on the sink. Her sighs were still constant.

I settled into a rhythm of starting high on the breast and firmly compressing so the milk glands emptied near the nipple. I noticed that alternating breasts allowed the tissue to recover and the breast returned to a natural shape while I was busy constricting the other breast.

"Does it hurt?" I asked.

"Yeah it does, but it's a good kind of pain. It's hard to describe."

Up to this point the flow of milk didn't seem to have slowed down at all. And with her other breast still full I decided to change my approach. I stood behind her and reached under her arms, finding both breasts. I realized that pressing her breast tissue against her ribs was not conducive to better extraction. I had to start my manual pressing from the base of her breast and try to draw her flow out away from her chest. This also seemed less painful for Alice.

As I continued alternately milking both breasts at the same time, her sighs got heavier and huskier. I was wondering if she got sexual pleasure out of this. She stood up and leaned back on me and let her head rest between my neck and shoulder. It seemed like the same stimulation that causes sexual arousal, actually releases the milk, a gush of lactation flowed for a few minutes.

With her this close to me, I smelled her sweet scent, it wasn't a perfume, just the way she smelled. I recognized the smell from when I had been around her but it was about a hundred times stronger now that she was leaning on me. She was emitting a pheromone, perhaps.

I was in a thin tee shirt, and hugging the sexiest girl on campus, and milking both of her breasts into the mirror of the faculty women s restroom. She was leaning back into me with her eyes closed and a very pleasant expression on her gorgeous face. I ve never had a wet dream this good!

As impossibly unreal as it seemed, I was getting used to the situation, and because of that, actually realizing how ridiculous it was. For the first time in the roughly 10 minutes we'd been in the bathroom I noticed my raging boner, and how her ass just grazed past it occasionally. My cock was a flagpole ascending tightly up to the elastic waistband of my boxers.

Alice hadn't opened her eyes since I started milking both breasts; yes, breasts. This was the best education in human anatomy I could get. In this room, I awakened to the masculine role of supportive partner to the female reproductive and nurturing process. I could not call these amazing mammaries by the crude terms used by schoolboys.

I sensed a strong feeling she was now enjoying my assistance, which made me feel satisfied as I'd apparently helped her out of her predicament. My hands were now soaked in milk as well, the wetness making her breasts slippery.

In my newfound awareness I also found my hands aching, which prompted me to stop for a second and change my grip. When I stopped for repositioning, Alice woke up from her trancelike state. Through the milk stained mirror I noticed the smile on her face.

"Are you enjoying this?" I softly asked, as I resumed my grip and started gently milking. My mouth was just an inch from her ear and I d been unaware that I was softly breathing on her neck.

"Um, yes at this point it's very enjoyable." Alice answered me, blushing. Then she looked me in the eye, through the mirror s reflection;

"I take you are enjoying it as well?"

"Very much so." I softly replied into her ear with a look of honest gratitude.

I noticed that her breasts were getting softer, which allowed me to milk her a lot better. I experimented with various alternating patterns and started getting up to a high pace. She moaned in response, and leaned forward; using both arms to lean on the sink. I leaned forward with her, resting my chest on her back. She hunched her back slightly and firmly pressed her ass cheeks on either side of my boner. There was no way she didn't feel this. Even through hers and my own jeans I could feel the softness of her ass, which formed into my crotch.

I proceeded to milk her relentlessly, having become bolder with how hard I squeezed which she didn't seem to mind at all. The milk now mostly fell on the sink. I slowly started noticing her rocking her hips, pressing harder into my crotch, along both sides of my cock. Her own smell and the strong scent of what must be milk, filled the air and intoxicated me. Her grinding on my crotch becam

The Nymph's Pool: Part 2

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Tue, 18 Aug 2026 14:43:00 +0000

The Nymph's Pool: Part 2.

Two teens join the ancient secret society of the Nymph Pool.

Based on a post by WatchingCloud. Listen to the ► Podcast at My First Time.

"Needless to say, we did a lot of skinny dipping in those years," Mike said. "Carol and I, both of your parents, and a couple others, we were down here almost every nice weekend for several years. Lots of good times."

"Sounds like it," Maya said. "Though I have trouble picturing my parents skinny dipping, especially with anyone else."

"Oh, you might be surprised about your parents," Mike said. "Both of you."

"Anyway," Carol said, perhaps cutting him off, "if Joella meant for you two to find this place, and I believe she did, then it's a good thing she conspired to get us here to share the rules. And maybe just in time, too, since you two are dangerously close to being overdressed for being that far out in the water."

"We hadn't planned to swim," Josh said. "But, yeah, we had already talked about coming back tomorrow."

"Guess we won't be needing the suits, then," Maya said, giving him a playful nudge and suggestive smile.

"What, you still want to come back here with those conditions?" Josh said.

"Sure, why not? You got something against skinny dipping?" Maya's eyes locked onto his, her expression challenging. He knew she was searching for something in him, but he couldn't tell just what she was after. Did she really want to go skinny dipping with him? If so, was there more to be read behind that, or was it just in good fun?

"Uh, well, no, not really," Josh said. "Guess I just haven't tried it before."

"That makes two of us, then," she said, her smile returning.

"No time like the present to try something new," Carol said. "Besides, we don't bite. But if you'd feel more comfortable trying it in private first, we can head on back and give you some space."

"No, no," Josh said. "If anyone should be giving the other some space, it would be us."

"Pish posh," Carol said. "We've done this so many times before, it scarcely crosses our minds anymore. Think it over. No pressure."

Mike and Carol swam over to the waterfall, where they let the cool water splash down over their heads. The distance and noise of the crashing water gave Josh and Maya some degree of privacy in which to speak.

"Well, what do you say?" Maya said. "Ready to give it a try?"

"Hmm; still seems kinda odd doing it with a couple strangers, even if they do seem pretty cool."

"Well, I'm fine with them being here," she said. "It's like they're setting the example of how to do it right and not make a big deal of it. Besides, what if something comes up or the weather gets bad and we don't get another chance to come back here? Shouldn't pass up an opportunity when it's trying so hard to get your attention. Besides, we might offend the nymph."

"You sure seem pretty relaxed about stripping nekkid," he said. "You always been like this?"

"No, not always," she said. "But in the right company, I'm not opposed to going au naturale. And I know you don't have anything to be ashamed of."

Josh blushed slightly at the suggestive comment and compliment. "Okay, fine, I'm in."

Maya gave him a sly smile and squeezed his hand. "Last one naked fixes lunch when we get back, then," she said. And with that, she slid off the rock and started wading back toward the shore, peeling off her shirt as she went. Josh shrugged in amusement and followed, not in any particular hurry to beat her.

By the time Josh reached the shore, his own shirt in hand, Maya was folding her shorts and stacking them with her shirt alongside the shoes. She had her back to him, affording him a nice view of her shapely ass clad in light blue panties. Her entire backside was tanned, so he assumed she must have seen a fair bit of sun in a bikini this summer, a thought that brought additional happy images to mind.

Josh folded his own shirt loosely and started a pile next to Maya's. As he started to unbutton his shorts, Maya unclasped her bra and wiggled it off her shoulders and down her arms. He couldn't help himself but to steal a glance at her bared tits, small handfuls with inviting curvature and nipples that were starting to protrude in spite of the warm air. She noticed him looking her way, but only smiled and dropped the bra onto her pile.

"Hope you're a good cook," she said.

"Hope you like sandwiches," he said. "Too bad we forgot to bring towels, huh?"

Maya peeled off her panties, teasing him with only a brief glimpse of her close-trimmed fuzz before she bent over to drop them on the pile. In further confirmation of her summer sunning, she bore sharp bikini tan lines across her ass and around her tits. In spite of the sheer joy of getting to see her nude, there was still a desire to see her in the responsible two-piece.

She turned to face him as he folded his shorts with only his boxers remaining. She seemed completely uninhibited and unabashed at letting him see her nakedness, from only a couple feet away no less. He did his best not to stare.

"Guess we'll just have to air dry, then," she said. "Can't imagine that should take too long on a day like this. And yes, I like sandwiches."

"As this is your first time here, I'd suggest jumping in from that rock next to you two," Mike said, calling out from where he and his wife were still soaking next to the falls. Not ten feet away was a broad rock that jutted out a few feet over the pool, looking like both a nice place to sit or to jump in the water.

"Sounds good," Maya called back. "Just waiting on slow poke here."

Passing the point of no return, Josh hooked his hands into the waistband of his boxers and slid them down and off. Immediately, he felt the soft summer breeze cool his balls in a way he had never before experienced. Foreign as the feeling was, he had to admit that it was rather pleasant. And thanks to his nerves, he was very relieved to find that he had not become aroused in front of Maya or their audience. Maya, for her part, just glanced down at him and quickly brought her eyes back up to meet his, smiling politely.

"Let's go," she said, offering him her hand which he happily took.

They climbed up the rock, which was a couple feet above the level of the water and the beach, and walked to the edge. Hand in hand, naked as the day they were born, and standing not twenty feet from the middle aged friends of their parents; and Josh couldn't help but grin in the crazy joy of the moment. It's a singular sort of carefree release that he had never experienced before, enhanced only in that he was sharing it with Maya.

"How deep is it?" Josh said. In spite of being able to see the bottom through the reflection of the green canopy above, it was difficult to judge details.

"About four or five feet," Mike said. "It's a safe jump, but I wouldn't be trying anything headfirst off there."

"Ready?" Josh asked Maya. She squeezed his hand back. "Yup."

Together, they jumped in, the cool water offering a brief shock that perfectly quenched the day's heat. And if feeling the breeze on his balls had been novel, floating naked in cool water was an entirely alien and wonderful experience. He reluctantly let go of Maya's hand while she dunked under the surface and swam around a bit on her own. He did likewise, letting the cool water carry away the heat and sweat from his head as he plunged under the surface.

"Well, were we right?" Carol asked when both had finally surfaced and wiped the water from their eyes.

"It's wonderful," Maya said. "So glad you told us the rules about this place. It just wouldn't be right any other way."

"My compliments to Joella for keeping such a lovely little place," Josh said, and everyone agreed.

The two of them made their way over to the older couple, joining them under the splashing water of the falls for a bit. Standing at a depth where just their heads made it out of the water, they chatted idly about a range of topics; with the upcoming freshman year of college dominating much of the conversation. Maya stood near Josh, and their hands occasionally brushed, but aside from the otherwise frequent eye contact they made no further intimate gestures throughout.

"So, just what sort of wild things did our parents do down here?" Maya said, abruptly changing the topic.

"Oh, I don't know if we should tell those stories," Mike said. "Your parents might not forgive us."

"We can keep a secret," Josh said. "Besides, you never know when you might need a little leverage."

Everyone laughed. Mike and Carol looked at one another for a long moment, trying to read in the other's eyes whether they should or shouldn't pass along any stories. "Maybe a hint," Mike finally said to Carol, who nodded.

"Well, let's put it this way," Carol said. "At the age we were back in those days, well, we were a little more hormonally charged."

"That's one way of putting it," Mike said, smiling. Maya and Josh looked at one another, both feeling a little awkward at where this conversation seemed to be headed. "One set of your parents were collectively nicknamed the Bunny-Monkeys," Carol said. "Let's just say that was representative of an nearly insatiable need to do the deed as often and as publicly as possible."

"Oh my god!" Maya said, bursting into giggles.

"I can't see either of our parents being like that," Josh said, floored.

Carol shrugged. "Well, things change as you get older, I suppose. Still it's the truth."

"Believe her," Mike said, laughing. "I saw it. All of it."

"And the other set of your parents, while perhaps a bit more tactful with regard to taking their intimate acts away from the public view, more than made up for it in the volume of their passions."

"Screamer and Grunter," Mike said, confirming his wife's account.

Josh and Maya just stared at each other in open-mouthed disbelief, and then burst into laughter. Josh couldn't imagine his parents being either of the described couples, but neither could he imagine it was something that Carol would make up about them. It must be true, but oh how they must have changed over the years.

"Your parents the screamers?" Maya asked. "'Because I don't think I've ever heard a peep out of my parents."

Josh shook his head. "Nope," he said. "Aside from a stray squeaky bed spring that I did my best to pretend I didn't hear, I've never heard a thing."

"And I don't see my parents as the blatant exhibitionist types, either," she said. "Or yours."

"God's honest truth," Carol said. "But, like I said, we all change as we get older. I'm sure there'll be plenty of things about your youths that you probably won't want to share with your children down the road."

Josh sensed that she meant the two of them, Josh and Maya together as a couple, with that statement, though it could be meant in general. Still, the idea had a comfortable feel to it, like it was opening a path that they were meant to walk.

"I think that's enough damage for now," Mike said. "We'll leave it to you two to sort out who was who. And you never heard it from us."

"Okay, fair enough," Maya said. "But what about you two? Did you two have a reputation?"

Josh couldn't believe she was so forward as to ask a question like that. However, Mike and Carol just looked each other and shared a reminiscent smile. In that look, he saw a lot of happy history and all the confirmation he needed that they were not putting them on.

"I guess you could say we were the antagonists," Carol finally said. "We had a habit of goading people into trying new things; usually outside their comfort zones."

"I don't think we'd have any trouble believing that one," Maya said. Josh had to concur.

"Of course, that meant the others gave back as good as we dished out," Mike said. "We ended up doing a lot of creative and surprising things."

"And we won't be sharing those stories," Carol said. "Not this day, anyway."

"Time?" Mike said to Carol, who nodded back. "Well, we must be getting on our way. We've got plans this evening and need time to get cleaned up and such beforehand."

The two climbed onto the shore, and this time neither Josh nor Maya had comfort issues in looking at them or carrying on the conversation. While they were definitely of the same generation as their parents, with bodies that carried the inevitable signs of that age, Josh now saw within them a playfulness and zest for life that he hoped he would be so lucky to have in another twenty-five years.

"Let's go say goodbye," Maya whispered in his ear from where they were hanging out in the middle of the pool. By the way she took his arm, he knew she meant to do so face-to-face rather than from across the water. Together, they came ashore as the older couple finished dressing.

"It was a pleasure to meet you two," Maya said, offering her hand which the other two readily took.

"Absolutely," Josh said, also shaking hands.

"Likewise," Mike said. "Hope you two enjoy the rest of the afternoon. Maybe we'll see you around again sometime."

Carol, after shaking their hands, turned to face the pool. "Thank you, Joella," she said. "And if you arranged for us to help introduce Josh and Maya to you, then it was our honor."

"Thanks Joella," Mike said, giving the pool a short wave goodbye.

Josh and Maya stood side by side, naked and dripping wet, until the older couple disappeared from view in the woods. For the first time since undressing, they could actually see one another, and this time without any sort of audience. Almost shyly, they faced one another and took a few moments to appreciate the sight. His heart swelled in almost unbearable appreciation for how beautiful she looked right now; not just a factor of figure and the way the water drops sparkled on her skin, but in the way he saw her both as the girl he had grown up with and the woman she had become in their time apart. It was a beauty of the soul.

The silent moment between them stretched until they both felt a little uncomfortable with thoughts and feelings they weren't quite ready to express in words. Maya flinched first, smiling and looking down at the ground for a moment. Josh took the moment to breathe and step back, stretching his arms.

"Well," he said, "you wanna stay a little longer?"

"Frankly, I'm starving," Maya said.

"Yeah, me too," he said, and he was.

"But, I'm sure planning on coming back here soon and often," she said.

"Like this afternoon?" Josh said it with humor, but he meant it with a bit of hope. He knew that after this experience, the only swimming they would do here in the future would be in the nude. And with Maya, that would never be a bad thing.

"Maybe," she said, playfully. "I think I'm gonna take advantage of that big rock to dry off a bit before we head out."

They climbed back onto the large flat rock from which they had jumped into the pool. Though little sun made it through the canopy above, there were a few patches of light that dotted the rock and kept it a touch warmer than the ambient air. Maya sat cross-legged and then changed her mind and laid on her back. Josh sat next to her, politely trying to keep his eyes more on their surroundings, until she started talking to him.

"Well, was skinny dipping everything you thought it would be?" Maya said.

"Not sure what I expected, but yeah, it was fun," Josh said. "So, does this make us nudists?"

"Don't they prefer 'naturists' now?"

"How about 'strippers'?" They both laughed at that.

"I think that only applies if you're more interested in the removal of the clothing than in enjoying the naked experience," she said. "Or if you get paid for it."

"Well, if this is supposed to be Nude Day, then I guess I'm good with nudists; or nudies; or nudites," Josh said.

"So, which parents do you think were which?" Maya said.

Josh leaned back on his elbows and looked back at her, eyes pausing at her tits where the nipples stretched for the sky. She grinned at him, though he couldn't quite figure out what she was thinking. For his part, he was a still a little uncomfortable with the idea of his parents being either of the couples described.

"I think I'd be a little more comfortable imagining them being the noisy ones," he said. "But, I still can't actually see them as either."

"Same here," she said. She used her toes to brush a leaf off the other foot, the act catching Josh's attention. Damn, she has cute feet, he thought to himself.

"Still, can you imagine what it must have been like back in their day here?" she said. "I mean; wide-open, public sex? Even if it is just in front of friends. Must have been really good friends."

"Yeah, hard to imagine," Josh said, even as pictures flickered through his mind.

"Like this rock we're sitting on," she said, patting the stone between them. "Whichever of our parents were the Bunny-Monkeys, they probably had a lot of sex right here. Perfect spot that pretty much everyone in the pool or on the beach couldn't help but see."

"God, they'd kill us if they found out we'd heard about what they were like," Josh said.

"Kind of exciting to think about it, though," she said. "Who knew they were so open-minded?"

Josh noticed as Maya's eyes drifted down toward his waist while her eyes and smile widened. "Speaking of excited; ," she said.

To his horror and embarrassment, Josh realized that all the talk of sex had taken hold of his subconscious and his cock was almost fully engorged where it laid across his leg. He jerked back up to a sitting position so that his back shielded him from her view. His face flushed and he felt his chances of coming back here for more skinny dipping would be dashed if she knew he had any such thoughts about her.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"Why?" Maya said, sitting up beside and just behind him. She touched his shoulder gently and leaned her head in over his shoulder. "There's nothing to be sorry about."

Her sincerity helped, but he was still embarrassed. "Just, kinda embarrassing."

"Did I have anything to do with that?"

"Sorta. Kinda."

"Then I'm flattered," she whispered in his ear. She leaned in closer, her cheek brushing his ear and her breath warm on his cheek. He shuddered involuntarily at the contact. With her fingers on his chin, she softly rotated his head to face her.

"Flattered?" he whispered back.

His eyes remained locked with hers as she leaned forward the remaining inch until their lips met. It was soft, tender, and just a little hesitant. After a few seconds, they retreated back that inch, again searching in one another's eyes. He saw reflected in hers what he felt in himself. He leaned into her and they kissed again, longer and harder, eyes closed and breaths held.

Maya pulled back after another minute or two, far enough back to look him in the face easily but too far for him to lean in for another kiss without getting up from where he sat. The hand she had placed on his chin worked its way around his neck, the thumb caressing his earlobe. She then slid the hand down his neck and over his chest, briefly teasing the sparse hairs on his sternum, eliciting a smile from both. Her hand co

The Nymph's Pool: Part 1

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Mon, 17 Aug 2026 14:38:00 +0000

The Nymph's Pool: Part 1.

Two teens discover their parents' secret swimming hole.

Based on a post by WatchingCloud. Listen to the ► Podcast at My First Time.

The cabin was just as Josh remembered from the family vacations of his youth; a sturdy, inviting structure built of native logs, concealing within its bowels three bedrooms and all the amenities of a full-sized house in the city. At least two or three times a year, from as early as he could remember and until his family moved to another state when he reached middle school, he had come here as a guest of the Thorntons. It was the home away from home where he and their daughter Maya would explore the woods for hours on end while their parents played cards or whatever it was adults did when the kids were scarce. With enough begging, they could usually coax the parents to take them down to the lake a mile away for an afternoon of boats, beaches and sunburns. All in all, it was the source of most of his happier memories as a young kid.

"Hey there, strangers!" Mr. Thornton said, stepping out on to the front porch to greet them as they unloaded the car and stretched their legs from the long drive. "It's been too long."

Mrs. Thornton was right behind and the two of them helped carry their bags into the cabin. Josh looked around for Maya, but saw no sign of her. After the way their last visit went some three years back, he was almost relieved.

"So, Josh, how's it feel to finally be done with high school?" Mrs. Thornton said, holding the door for him at the end of the line.

"Great," he said. "Graduation couldn't have come quick enough."

"Been keeping busy during the summer?"

"Yeah," he said. "Mostly working at my dad's office to make some money for college, but I've had a little time to hang out with some friends before we go our separate ways."

"Well, I'm sure you'll be able to rest and recoup here. Might be on your own a bit, though, since Maya decided not to come along this year."

"Oh?"

Mrs. Thornton looked resigned and maybe even a little sorry for him. The girl who had been his closest friend until his family moved had done little but give him a cold shoulder during his last vacation here, spending all her time talking on the phone and scarcely having a word to spare for him except when their parents forced everyone to play a game or go to the beach together. In spite of that, though, Josh couldn't help but feel a little disappointed at her current absence; Maya's presence was inextricably linked to everything that this place meant to him.

"Yeah, she said something about having finally found a lead on a possible job for the end of the summer," she said. "But, between you and me, I think she was mostly staying because of her boyfriend Brad."

From her tone, Josh was quite sure that she didn't approve of Brad. He just gave a sympathetic shrug.

"That's okay," he said. "I brought my laptop and a stack of books I've been meaning to read. I'm sure I'll manage."

"Good. Oh, and we had a pool installed since the last time you were here, so you've got that as another option."

"Hmm; sounds nice."

Josh found himself feeling like the odd man out for most of the first day there, in spite of his parents' and the Thorntons' efforts to try to include him in their conversation. The two couples had been good friends since college and there was always a lot to catch up on now that they lived hundreds of miles apart. He was soon excusing himself to find quiet places to read or hike. Luckily, the cabin was surrounded by hilly forest with countless little trails that meandered under the cool canopy. After the mad dash to the end of the school year and the hubbub with graduation parties, he actually relished the little bit of solitude.

By the third day, he had settled into a routine of sleeping in late, hiking away the rest of the morning, swimming and reading by the pool, and then dinner with the parents. The adults were usually driving in to town to shop for antiques or art, or stopping at any of the numerous vineyards in the area, none of which interested him. Once he was able to convince them that he was perfectly happy being alone, everyone was finally able to relax.

Late afternoon of the fourth day, with the parents off on another excursion, Josh finished his afternoon swim and went back to his room. He flipped on his laptop where it rested on his bottom bunk and queued up an old Queen album. To the strains of "Somebody to Love," he shed his damp suit and hung it over a hanger in the closet. As he exited the closet, the bedroom door swung open and there was Maya, bags in both hands and a shocked expression on her face. When her eyes dropped down below his waist, his own shock wore off enough to remember to grab his towel to cover up, flushing furiously in the process. When their eyes met again, she wore a look of embarrassment mixed with humor that annoyed him more than it probably should.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry," she said, turning her head away but not leaving.

"Don't you knock?" he said, regretting the tone of his voice even as the words came out.

"I said I'm sorry," she said, defensively. "The door was cracked open and my hands were full."

"Yeah, well; you could have still said something so I knew you were there before barging in."

Maya looked back at him, her half smile gone and expression hurt. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but changed her mind and closed her lips tight. She set her bags in an empty corner beside the bunk beds, turned on her heel, and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

"You dumb ass," Josh muttered quietly to himself. Regardless of how things had been between them three years ago, he was pretty sure that it wouldn't improve after that. And this time it was his fault. In that first moment when their eyes had met, he saw his old friend and playmate, the one full of energy and ready for adventure. Had he blown a chance to reclaim some of that old friendship?

He dressed quickly while his heart rate came back down. On top of replaying his own overreaction, he marveled at how Maya had changed in other ways. Three years ago, at fifteen, she had already grown into a beauty, though in a girlie cute sort of way. Now, however, she had the same tall, lean frame, but carried it with an aura of maturity and confidence. Those blue eyes were sharp and smart, and the smile that tended to favor one side of her mouth was genuine and disarming.

But for as much as she he might find her attractive and desirable, Josh knew there was little point in giving it further thought. He was intimidated by beautiful girls. And with Maya, their relationship would always be defined by their childhood, before the physical attraction between opposite sexes could taint them.

One thing about her arrival was certain; the sense of complete relaxation that he had been enjoying was now over.

Their parents returned soon after Maya's arrival, giving Josh the opportunity to avoid any sort of one on one conversation for at least a little longer. She wasted no time in getting caught up with his parents, while he sat and listened from the kitchen table sidelines. Unlike their last visit, Maya seemed to have shed much of her shallow youth and was now perfectly comfortable and fluent in adult conversation. Truly, she had changed, and he couldn't help but keep looking at her.

"Isn't that exciting, Josh?" Josh shook his head when he heard his mom say his name.

"Sorry, what?" he said, having dropped the thread to his own thoughts.

"Maya's going to be going to Oregon State next year with you," she said.

"Oh! Really?" Josh had not heard that, but it gave him just a little thrill to hear that they would be attending the same college and living in the same city again. It had never occurred to him to wonder what she was doing now that she had graduated as well.

"What made you decide to come back to your old stomping grounds, Josh?" Maya asked, her eyes engaging and perhaps seeking deeper meaning from his answer. "There are plenty of good schools in California."

"Guess I always felt like Oregon was home," he said. "Besides, it's sort of a family thing with it being my parents' Alma mater. Suppose I just always assumed that's where I'd probably go."

"Cool," she said, sounding genuinely happy. "We'll have to compare notes about the whole class registration thing. It's kinda overwhelming; in a good way."

Their parents took the conversation back over while they finished preparing dinner. Josh and Maya exchanged looks frequently throughout the rest of the evening, even if they spoke little. Whatever may have happened earlier, she seemed to have gotten over it, and that gave Josh hope for the rest of vacation not being a total loss.

Josh stripped to his boxers and slid under the sheet of the lower bunk bed. He tried to do a little reading by the small light clamped to the bed post, but found his mind too distracted to focus. He could hear the water turning on and off in the bathroom next door and knew that Maya would be coming back to the room at any moment.

He was willing to admit that he was smitten, but that sort of thing happened often to guys his age. More to the point, he just wanted to be confident and comfortable enough to talk and joke with her the way he used to. But what could he say that would sound natural and not corny?

There was a soft knock at the door. "Yeah?" he said.

Maya opened the door and peeked in. "Everyone decent this time?" she said with a smile.

"Yeah," he said, folding his book on his chest. She was wearing a thin, blue cotton tank top and very brief white athletic shorts. It was impossible not to notice the way her shirt clung to her tits, with a hint of nipple protruding. He forced himself to look away so as not to be caught staring.

Maya set aside her clothes, clicked off the bedroom's main light, and climbed to the top bunk. Josh was mesmerized by her long, smooth, tanned legs as they disappeared from view above. The springs sagged and squeaked a bit under her weight as she shifted around. Moments later, one hand appeared on the edge of her bunk, followed by her head framed by long brown hair hanging all to one side.

"What happened? I thought you always liked to be on top."

Josh flushed a little at that, hoping the small reading lamp was dim enough that it wouldn't show.

"Well, I thought it was going to just be me, and the top bunk is a lot squeakier than the bottom," he said.

She bounced a couple times, inducing a couple uncomfortably loud squeaks from the seldom used springs. "Yeah, I can see that. Is it me, or do these beds seem to keep shrinking?"

"Tell me about it," he said. "I have to sleep diagonally just to fit on the mattress."

"Is everything okay?" she said, suddenly serious.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, this afternoon and all," she said. "I guess you had every right to be a little upset, but it seemed like there was something more to it than that."

"No, no. It's fine. I just overreacted a bit, I guess."

"I'd almost say that you weren't too happy about seeing me here at all."

He wondered how she could have guessed that. It was a little distressing that she seemed to be able to read him that well. Could she guess what else he was thinking; in particular about her? Still, it seemed that she was looking to reconcile, so he decided to follow the path of honesty.

"Well, there might have been a little of that," he said. "But I'm over it."

"Care to tell me why?"

"I guess it was mostly because of the last time we came here," he said.

She looked puzzled. "What, the time a few years ago? Did I do something?"

"Well, it wasn't so much what you did, but rather what you didn't. I seem to remember you spending most of the entire week either on your cell phone or moping about and complaining about being stuck there. You pretty much blew me off for most of the trip."

"Oh. I suppose I did do that, didn't I?"

"It's not a big deal," he said. "I guess I'd just come with expectations of it being just like the old days when we were younger. Things change."

"Well, let me apologize for my behavior back then," she said. "I'll admit, I was going through a phase that I'm not too proud of; when I was only worried about being cool and being seen with the right friends."

"Ah," he said. "So I wasn't the right sort; " He made it clear in his voice that he was now trying to tease her.

She buried her head in the mattress in melodramatic shame. "Well, no, you weren't," she said. "You were kinda geeky and couldn't seem to talk about anything other than whichever big special effects-laden movie was coming out next, or which one you were missing by being stuck at the cabin."

"Oh, so I'm a geek now?" He was willing to keep teasing her now that they were both smiling. It was a bigger ice breaker than he could have hoped.

"Maybe a little, but in a good way," she said.

"There's a good geekiness?"

"Well, let's just say that as you get older, a little bit of geek is indeed a good thing."

"I see."

"And I'm trying real hard to pay more attention to the things that matter rather than the superficial," she said. "Even if I still seem to make the occasional bone-headed mistake with the likes of Brad."

"Boyfriend?"

"Ex, as of yesterday," she said, seemingly without regret.

"I'm sorry." He wasn't.

"Dumb jock," she said. "Not a bad guy, really, but I realized that I've outgrown his type. Not enough geek. So, yeah, that's why I ended up coming out here. Decided that this was what I really needed this summer; friends and family and fresh air."

"Well, I'm glad you came," he said. Even though he knew that nothing romantic was likely between the two of them, at least they would have a week and a half together, and it felt like they'd found a renewed bond.

"Did you have anything planned for tomorrow?"

"Well, most mornings I've been sleeping in a little bit, grab some breakfast, and then go hiking until lunch."

"Sounds nice," she said. "Mind if I join ya?"

"Certainly."

She gave him a big smile and then blew him a kiss before disappearing back over the edge of the top bunk. "Good night, dear," she said.

"Good night," he said. That kiss had to have been a friendly gesture, but it was one that inevitably gave him a raging boner that kept him awake for another hour until sleep finally claimed him.

When Josh woke, the room was already lit with diffuse sunlight struggling through the curtains. The sound of the shower next door suggested that Maya must be up, since the other two bedrooms each had private baths. The bunk above him wasn't sagging, either, further confirming his suspicions, though how she could have gotten out of that squeaky contraption without waking him was beyond comprehension.

His mind soon wandered back to images of Maya wearing that blue top last night, and how it subtly revealed her graceful curves. His hand wandered under the sheets and ran along his cock, teasing it out of the fly on his boxers. He gently stroked, mentally undressing her the rest of the way.

The sound of a door opening in the hall outside the room startled him mightily. He crammed his hard-on back into his shorts and rolled onto his side so that the tented sheet wouldn't give him away. A moment later, the bedroom door cracked open and Maya peeked in quietly.

"Heya sleepy head, you're awake," she said, opening the door fully. She was standing there wrapped only in a bath towel, held in place with a hand between her cleavage. The bottom of the towel barely reached the top of her thighs. His cock, which had started to soften for fear of being caught, suddenly redoubled in strength.

"Yeah, just," he said, trying to sound sleepier than he was.

"Was waiting for the shower to warm up when I realized I'd forgotten something," she said. He watched her backside as she crouched down to dig through her luggage. Had she bent over from the waist, he was sure he'd have gotten one hell of a view. She came up, holding a sheer white bra victoriously. "Here it is."

He was a little startled at her confidence, and he felt self-conscious for her. "Yeah, good thing to have, I suppose," he said weakly.

"Mom asked if we wanted to go to Maple Glen with them today, but I told her we'd pass," she said. "Hope that was okay with you."

"Yeah, that's cool."

"Good, 'cuz they already left. There's some fruit and other breakfast stuff left over in the kitchen if you wanna hit that while waiting for the shower." She gave him another smile as she closed the bedroom door behind her.

Josh listened for the bathroom door to close and then for the shower curtain to be pulled aside. Finally confident that he wouldn't be interrupted yet another time, he jerked off as fast as humanly possible. This could make for a wonderful and frustrating week, he thought to himself.

Though it was still more than an hour before noon, Josh was sweating from the mid-summer heat and the exertion of climbing the highest hill for miles around. The heat scarcely registered, however, as he was mesmerized by the view on the trail before him. Maya's tight ass wiggled side to side hypnotically in her snug denim shorts and her strong calves flexed with each step up. A trickle of sweat soaked through the back of her yellow tank top just between the shoulders while her pony tail swung lazily back and forth across her neck.

Their conversation tapered off as they neared the peak. He felt a little winded and he sensed that she was as well. For as tough as the hike could be, he was impressed that she hadn't asked to catch a breather or even slow up. Cutting between the last two trees, they stepped into a clearing that offered a magnificent view of the lake in the distance surrounded by all the wooded hills. Maya placed her hands on her hips and soaked it all in.

"You're not even breathing hard," she said, clearly a little winded herself.

"A little," he said, honestly.

"You work out much?"

"Four years of cross country," he said. "Without a season coming up, I've slacked a little on my running, but I still get out a few times a week."

"Good for you. It shows."

"Oh?"

"Well, you've certainly filled out since the last time I saw you," she said, pinching his lean abs. "It works for you."

He blushed at the compliment. While he was fairly proud at staying fit, he still felt a little self-conscious for being on the thin side. It was a build that had suited him well as a runner, but didn't always make him feel particularly confident. Her words went a long way toward dashing some of those feelings.

"Thanks," he said. "How about you? Did you do any sports?"

"I tried soccer for a year, but I couldn't commit myself to all the off season leagues and work you had to put in to be any good at it. After that, my interests started to shift anyway."

"Yeah? To what?"

"Oh, I did a lot of singing," she said. "And later on in high school I got involved in debate and academic decathlon and that sort of thing."

"Really?" he said. He was surprised to hear that from her, but it reinforced his opinion that she was pretty smart and comfortable with it. "So, what were you thinking of majoring in?"

"At the moment, probably economics or finance," she said.

Josh almost choked on the swallow of water he had just taken from his canteen. "An

Sacrificing Her Dignity, or Her Husband’s Life?

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:54:00 +0000

Sacrificing Her Dignity, or Her Husband’s Life?

The doctor tells her what she has to do to save her husband.

Based on a post by Dan Draper. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Robert’s Decline.

The wait was excruciating for Robert Carson. He and his wife, Stella, have been waiting in the doctor's office for nearly half an hour, waiting for the results of his medical tests. Robert hasn't been feeling well for several months. No other doctor has been able to figure out what was wrong with him. The other doctors were able to determine that it was not cancer or a heart condition, which Robert was grateful to hear, but still couldn't come up with any other explanation for what was wrong with him.

Two of Stella’s lady friends recently lost their husbands, and Robert’s condition seems very similar to those men. The widows weren’t as helpful as Stella hoped. Connie just said; “I guess I knew Bill was going downhill. It’s one thing to prolong living, but why prolong dying, Stella?”

Finally, they were sent to Doctor Morris, a specialist on men’s health and geriatrics; to determine what might be wrong with him. Patients from all over the country came to see him for medical problems no other doctor could solve. Robert and Stella were lucky that they were able to get an appointment with him. When Stella mentioned to Carol about the appointment with Doctor Morris, Carol just said; “He’s an asshole.“ But Carol refused to talk about it anymore.

Last week, Connie asked Stella if Robert could come by and change the furnace filters. But Stella thought it was just because Connie was lonely, and maybe desperate for a man’s attention.

“Sorry, Connie, Robert’s doing a long list of chores and is not available.” She suggested finding a handyman.

‘Damn if I’ll let that hottie anywhere near my man!’ Stella resolved.

At The Men’s Clinic.

After several days of tests, where every aspect of his body was thoroughly examined, they were asked to come in, to go over the final results.

Doctor Morris finally arrived. He was an older man with thin-rimmed glasses and a big smile on his face. He greeted Robert and Stella, apologized for being late, and sat down behind his desk.

"So, I've got good news for you, Robert. You should be just fine," said Doctor Morris.

Robert and Stella both let out a big sigh of relief. After having to wait so long in the office, they were both worried that it meant bad news.

"So, what's going on with me, Doc?" Robert asked. "Why do I feel sick all the time?"

The doctor answered. "It's a progressive neurological condition that's throwing off your biological functions. It should be easy to take care of with a simple set of treatment regimens. There are no medical out-of-pocket costs, under your health insurance. You'll have to keep up with the treatments for the rest of your life, but other than that, you'll live a long, happy, and healthy life."

“What do I have to give up, Doc?” Robert braced himself for a lecture.

“Doctor Morris chuckled; “Robert, if the treatment is implemented, not only will you improve, you’ll also love the treatments.”

"That's great to hear, doctor," said Stella very happily. "I've been worried sick about Robert for months now."

"That brings me to you, Stella," said Doctor Morris. "I need to talk to you in private, if you don't mind."

Robert and Stella gave each other a concerning look, then looked back at Doctor Morris.

"Is something wrong?" Stella asked.

"I just want to talk to you about some simple things you can do, to help make Robert feel better, Mrs. Carson," Doctor Morris assured her. "Robert, you don't need to wait around and listen to these lengthy, boring details. You should probably wait in the lobby. She’ll go over the process with you, when we’re done."

"He's probably right, honey," said Stella. "In fact; get yourself some fresh air. I'll meet you at the café next door, a little later."

Robert agreed to leave. He was tired of all these damned doctor visits, and was glad to be out of there. He was sick of Stella nagging him about going to the doctors for stupid stuff. Now he heard the first good news about his condition in months, and couldn't wait to finally be done with doctors. Robert shook the doctor's hand, thanked him for his help, and left the office.

When Doctor Morris was sure that Robert was gone, he turned his attention to Stella.

"Mrs. Carson; Stella, your husband is chronically ill," Doctor Morris revealed. "His condition is much more serious than I let on."

"What?" Stella asked, with a shocked expression. "How much time does he have left."

"A few weeks, at the most."

Stella was now trembling and breathing heavily. She could feel her heart pounding hard in her chest. She had never felt so scared about anything in her life. Several of her lady friends were already widows. She and Robert were just beginning retirement and she had so many plans for him.

"This is unbelievable. Why the hell did you tell him that he was going to live?" she asked.

"Because I needed him out of the office, So I could talk to you about his condition, and how you're the only one who could help him. I've seen this situation before. This is deeply personal stuff. I need to talk to you about things that usually are better said, when I talk to the wife about it in private."

The Morbid Emasculation Treatment Plan.

"Okay, I think I understand." said Stella, as she began to calm down a little. "I need my husband! I'll do anything to help my husband. Tell me what I need to do."

"First, Robert suffers from an advanced stage case of morbid emasculation. It's a growing concern for many of us in the mens health field. When men are systematically broken down by society and especially their life partners. You probably were not aware of how it happened, but Robert has been suffering for years. It manifests as low testosterone syndrone and Impotence. If not corrected, it leads to clinical depression, then deterioration of his brain functions are the laststage. It begins to look like dementia. Then his vital organs shut down.

At this point it's not helpful to point fingers. In reality, it probably was influenced by multiple sources both inside the home and from society at large. I won't speculate on what your marriage is like, but I will tell you what needs to happen if your Robert is going to live.

You need to know that there are both physical and psychological impairments that are progressing rapidly. We need to aggressively treat everything, and all at once. The treatment needs to be applied with cheerful enthusiasm and It’s most successful when the wife has processed the plan fully, and details it to her ailing husband. “

“But what is this treatment? What does it involve?”

We cannot risk Robert hearing your negative responses, but to be fair; you will need to let yourself process this information honestly and openly, without hurting Robert any more than he’s already suffering.”

“I see.” Stella said, nervously. “I’m already feeling some anxiety about what you’re going to tell me.”

Let's start with his diet. I understand you got him on a vegan diet. Is that right?"

"Yes, it's much healthier," said Stella.

"Stop that immediately; that diet is killing him," he told her.

"But it's a healthier lifestyle and Robert loves it."

Doctor Morris continued. "It is healthier for most people, but not for people with Robert's condition. That diet is throwing off the neurological functions of his brain, and that's affecting his entire body. He needs to start eating meat immediately. He needs iron and protein from beef. Pork and poultry are okay, but beef is especially therapeutic."

Stella was stunned by the revelation. She was sure being a vegan was a healthy way to live, but she had no idea that it was hurting Robert. She would not have pushed him to do it if she knew what it was doing to him.

"Okay, I'll start getting him on all kinds of meat right away," she assured the doctor.

"It's not just meat he needs to start eating. You need to cook for him whatever he likes as well. If he suggests it, you can't question it. Just cook it for him, no matter what it is. Don’t trust restaurants to do this. You need to know what’s in the food he consumes. And you must be punctual with his regular mealtimes."

"Yes, of course I will," Stella replied nervously.

"That's good to hear. Now that brings me to my next subject. He shouldn't be doing so much physical labor around the house. He's too weak to be doing this stuff, so it needs to all be done by you. At least for the first months, and then he might bounce back enough to do a little more. Yardwork, moving furniture, plumbing, painting, electrical problems, and so on. Anything you expect a husband should be doing around the house now needs to be done by you alone.

"But I already do all the traditional duties of a housewife.

Doctor Morris continued. "And don't pay anybody to do this stuff either, it all needs to be done by you. He specifically told me that he's been really stressed about money lately. So, having to spend more money on people to do work around the house would be very stressful for him. And that stress could have a terrible effect on his neurological disorder. You being so needy, is a huge part of the neurological decline he’s facing."

Yes! And the media coming into the home must affirm masculinity. Music with energy and accomplishment. Arena Rock and Classic 70s Rock will generally fit that discription, but ask him to help you fill the house with a feel of 'man cave.'
Stop all the Halmark movies and soap operas. Replace it with action and adventure. "

"But; Do I have to watch that stuff as well?" she asked, perplexed.

"Yes, you have to watch it all,"

"Um, Okay, I'll try my best," said Stella. "I'll do all of his chores, and I think I can get one or two people who could help me for free, so no money will be involved."

"Excellent, this is going much better than I hoped. Most wives I've had to tell this to, are not as agreeable as you’re being. Now, I must emphasize this next part. Don’t criticize or hen-peck him. Any more. It emasculates him even more. His testosterone is so low, But fake testosterone shots don’t fix this set of complications. Too many men turn to androgen and end up with hair loss. and feeling older and less attractive."

"As I said, I am willing to do anything to help Robert."

"That brings me to my next subject, and this is where it gets very personal," the doctor began to say. "You need to be more sexually available for him."

"Are you sure? We already have a very good sex life as it is," Stella revealed. "Even with his illness, we try to be sexual once a week, sometimes more, if I straddle his face."

Doctor Morris continued. "Well, it needs to be a lot more than that. As much sex as you two are having right now, he has not been getting as much sex as he needs. You need to double, even triple the amount of sex you two are already having."

"What?" she asked, very confused.

"His libido needs to be in overdrive, because of his neurological disorder, and by not fulfilling those sexual needs, it's hurting his body and weakening his immune system."

"He never told me he needed more sex."

"He told me specifically that. Out of concern for you, he didn't want to pressure you for more sex. So, I'm telling you for him; that you need to copulate with your husband a lot more, if you want him to live. Nagging him is a big part of what’s killing him. And never use sex as a bargaining device, ever! He needs to know that you just can’t wait for your next romp."

"Oh, wow," Stella said, very shocked at what she had just heard. "I always thought we had plenty of sex already. My girlfriends are jealous of me for it. But Okay, if I have to, I'll give him more sex."

Stella began to wonder when she would have time to triple the amount of sex she already had with Robert when the doctor had already told her she had to do so much more around the house for him.

"That brings me to the different acts of sex you have. How often do you give him fellatio? You know? Oral?"

Stella began to feel embarrassed. She had no idea of how personal this was all going to be.

"Occasionally, well, one his birthday, or if I feel guilty about something," she replied.

"But do you bring him to completion?" Doctor Morris asked.

"Sometimes."

"And when you do, do you swallow; or let him cum on you?"

"A little of both, I guess."

"You need to start swallowing his cum every single time," said Doctor Morris. "And I don't just mean only whatever shoots out into your mouth. You must suck out whatever remains in his penis after he has finished ejaculating. Leaving any cum inside of his dick after a blowjob could be detrimental to his already compromised psyche." Swallowing his ejaculate is a powerful way of showing him how desirable he still is. He must see himself as a desirable man.”

"Um; sure, whatever you say."

Stella didn't mind swallowing her husband's cum, she just didn't like to do it every single time. She preferred that he cums on her face or tits, after a blowjob, or that he waits to cum in her vaginally. But she told herself that she was willing to swallow every drop of cum, if it meant helping Robert.

"And you need to fondle his testicles a little, while you're blowing him."

"Huh?" she asked, very confused.

"His testicles are very problematic right now, and a good massage with your tongue could be very helpful. The circulation improves, and is essential to production of both sperm and natural testosterone."

Stella sat there, wide-eyed from having to listen to all of this. She wanted to question the doctor about the reasoning for all of this. But she decided that he was the expert, and she should probably listen to what he had to say, even if she didn't entirely understand any of it.

"Is there anything else?" she asked, feeling a little worried about what she might hear next.

"Yes, he needs to stop providing you with oral sex as well."

"What?" Stella snapped at him.

"It's not good for him. He says you’re using estrogen cream. Is that accurate?”

“Yes, I apply it vaginally, once a week. “

“You need to apply it at least 4 times a week. It helps your vagina restore firm and ridged walls. That is essential to aiding Robert’s sexual stimulation. He’s developing some neuropathy of his glans penis. But the cream, while essential to the lifesaving treatment regimen; is contraindicated for his testosterone levels. You need to coat his penis with a massage oil prior to intercourse, so that his skin does not absorb your estrogen. The oil also aides his sensory functions. Quadrupling the estrogen will also make your sexual tasks much, much more pleasant, and even help you be more enthusiastic about his needs.”

“Do I need a prescription oil?”

“No, Sweet Almond oil is odorless and inexpensive. The neurological disorder is causing his body much stress, both physically and psychologically. But back to the matter of orally arousing you. He needs to focus on pleasure, not stress. Worrying about getting you off, will only exacerbate this situation even more."

"Can he at least finger me?" she choked back her tears, hoping for a positive answer.

&quo

The Bishop’s Hotwife: Part 5

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Sun, 16 Aug 2026 01:18:00 +0000

The Bishop’s Hotwife: Part 5

Some things are not negotiable..

Based on a post by Wendy Trilby, in 5 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Chapter 10: So What Happens Now.

That was the last I saw of Mrs. Barton. Two days after that conversation, I headed back to Boston to complete my final year of law school.

I had two choices: dwell on the love I had found and now lost or apply that energy into my studies. I chose the latter.

Mrs. Barton would text me from time to time and even ask if I was coming home for the holidays. I could have ignored her texts, but instead, I'd reply with one-word answers.

Busy.

Can't.

No.

I wasn't trying to be rude, but I was still processing this strange brew of deceit and devotion, that had left me so fucked up.

At times, I would masturbate to the memories of our time together, but visions of The Bishop would cloud those thoughts.

I spent Christmas in Boston, telling each of my friends a different story about where I would be. Although I had lost control of my life last summer, I knew that if I focused on my studies, I could gain control over my thoughts.

But I could not control my dreams, and nearly every night I'd be with Mandy. The Bishop was never in those dreams, just she and I. The dreams were almost never sexual. It would be us spending time together. At most, we held hands or kissed.

I knew I should see a therapist about my experience, but I remembered the threat Mandy said could come to her if our tryst was made public in any way or form. Time and distance would have to be my therapy.

It was mid-January when I came out of Langdell Hall on the Harvard campus and saw her standing there. She was all alone.

I assumed I was dreaming. I must have been asleep, but a student on a Citybike nearly hit me, and I realized I was very much awake.

Her face showed a little weight, but in her winter coat, you couldn't tell she was six months pregnant.

I asked her why she was there. Was everything Okay? Was she okay?

Her answer was unexpected. Everything was fine. Perfect. Except she felt lonely.

She shared that she had cried uncontrollably every morning since our last day. She sank into a depression and spent several days at my house, lying in our bed.

The Bishop had hired a nanny to cover for her time away from home. None of this was planned for in the grand scheme and The Bishop had grown angry with her and livid with me.

I had so much to say to her. I had rehearsed countless ways to insult her, to bring her down. She had used me in the worst possible way and had exploited my father. For eighteen years, she and The Bishop had manipulated us so that he could appear to be a virile man of the church. Meanwhile, he degraded his wife to maintain that stature. I was prepared to unleash my hatred on this woman.

So here she was, and I; didn't say any of that.

She didn't need my semen, my support, my permission. She was here for me.

"Can we talk?" she asked.

We walked through the campus, coming to a quiet place to sit and talk.

"Does The Bishop know you're here?"

"No, I'm in Boston for a physical at Brigham and Women's. A woman at forty, they treat a pregnancy like it's high risk."

"You came to Boston for a physical?"

"I'm at seven months, so I won't be able to travel soon."

"But there's nothing wrong? Nothing that requires you to be here?"

"Yes, there is. You."

She had a difficult time making eye contact and looked at her lap as she spoke.

"I've missed you. I realized how hurt you were when summer ended. We had so much fun, shared so much together, and then the truth; "

"Yeah, the truth. That was a hell of a lot of truth."

"I know. I didn't see it coming. It was different with your father,"

"See what coming?"

"My feelings for you. I mean, with your dad, it was fun and comforting, and we never let emotions get in the way."

"Well, I'm not my dad, I guess. I've only impregnated you once."

I rolled my eyes. That wasn't necessary, and it wasn't what I wanted to say. I was overjoyed she was here and insulting her wasn't what I wanted to do. Thankfully, she let it go.

"I never felt for your father what I feel for you. That's what I came here to say. I thought this feeling would go away when you left. It didn't, it got worse."

We sat there in silence. She had, without stating the words, seemingly proclaimed everlasting love for me.

"So, what happens now?"

I return to Utah tomorrow. In two months, our daughter will be born. Three months later, you graduate, and hopefully, three months after that, you'll let me come to you when I'm ready for another child.

"So, nothing changes? This charade continues?"

"Everything changes. I think I made it clear how I feel for you. Do you understand how complicated that is for me?"

She was a master of bringing the story back to herself.

Complicated for her? She had created this world, she chose it; I had been conscripted.

Still, I did feel for her. I knew how much I wanted to be with her, and if her desire for me was even a fraction of that, her days were long and wanting.

She got up to go.

"I have an appointment. But I'm staying at the Copley Plaza if you want to come by and say goodbye or talk some more."

She stood before me with a glow that only a pregnant woman can achieve. Her hair was thick and lustrous, her face was full, and her belly was distended with our child warm inside.

I stood to face here.

"Of course, we don't have to talk," she said, then turned and walked across the quad toward a waiting town car.

It was early evening when I arrived at the Copley Plaza Hotel. I went to the front desk to find her room.

"Can you call Amanda Barton's room for me. Tell her Ethan is here?"

The clerk handed me a room key.

"She said her husband was coming by. Ethan, is it?"

"Yes, Ethan. Her husband," I said, trying to sound sincere. "I'm her husband."

The clerk handed me a room key and gestured to the elevators.

"14 23, and congratulations."

I smiled and nodded. I was her husband again. Apparently, I was to be congratulated for that. Oh, wait, he meant for her pregnancy. Okay, whatever.

I gently knocked on the hotel room door, but with the key in hand, I unlocked it and entered. It was a two-room suite, and I could hear the shower running.

"Ethan?" she asked from the bathroom.

"Umm, yeah. They gave me a room key, so I let myself in."

I heard the water shut off, and a few moments later, she walked into the suite's living area wearing a thick hotel robe and drying her hair.

"I might have gone heavy on the coffee today."

"Should you even be drinking coffee?"

"Decaf. Not as much fun, but it turns out the poop effect is the same."

"And so, the shower."

She smiled.

"You know me. Poop and a shower. Some things don't change even if my body has."

I was trying to visualize her beneath the robe. We had spent most of the summer naked and in each other's arms, but there was a different body under that terrycloth, and I longed to see it.

Perhaps my gaze betrayed me.

"You're curious, aren't you?" she said with a mischievous smile.

"Very."

I could tell she was anxious, which was a notable shift from her typically confident demeanor.

She kept her gaze on me, and she reached for the tie of her robe, fingers trembling slightly, and then let it slip away, revealing her heavily pregnant form.

I noticed a line of skin discoloration from her cunt up to her belly and beyond. She had always had protruding nipples due to her breastfeeding, but I had never seen her areolas so large and dark.

I had so many questions about female physiology during pregnancy, but this didn't seem like the right time to ask.

I thought I might be put off by seeing her pregnant, especially with my child; however, I'm not sure if it was me or nature, but I found myself turned on.

She placed her hand on the swell of her belly and gently bit her lip, waiting for my approval or fearing my disapproval. Her tits were once again heavy, her nipples thicker and darker than I remembered, pointed down.

"You look; incredible," I said, closing the distance between us.

"I've missed you. I wanted to come here so many times to see you and;"

I cut her off.

"I missed you, too."

"With your father, he was next door, and I would go over to talk with him. But he was just a friend. I didn't need him like I need you."

"But you got what you needed from both of us."

She looked down and rubbed her belly with a smile.

"Not this," she said, referring to our child within her.

"This," she said as she moved in and kissed me passionately.

The familiarity, the plumpness of her lips, the taste of her mouth, the smell of her skin, brought back the feelings of elation from the summer, and we practically melted together.

She wrapped her arms around my shoulders, clinging to me. Our kisses grew deeper as the primal urge for us to reconnect intensified. On an animal level, her body sensed that I was the father of her unborn child, and her hormones sent signal after signal to her brain to draw me close, to give me pleasure, to keep me nearby, and let me protect her.

My body responded in kind. I wanted to join her, but was unsure how.

"How do we do this?" I asked, genuinely bewildered.

She backed up to the bed and sat so her face was at my waist. She didn't speak but went to work unbuckling by belt and a moment later, freeing my cock.

She smiled at seeing it once again. Moving her hair to the side, she took it in hand and brought her mouth down on my shaft, warming it with her saliva. The feeling was familiar, and I sighed in relief. She continued to work my cock, gently massaging the shaft.

Having never had sex with a pregnant woman, I wondered if this was it, but I recalled her one command, that I always finish in her pussy. Then I remembered that was probably just part of the ruse.

Perhaps this blowjob is the end game. I'll just let her lead.

After a while she released my cock from her mouth and crawled back on the bed. Her pussy was shaven, More so than in the summer. She lay on her back, her arms out, and then beckoned me to join her.

I crawled to her side, she took her tit in hand, holding it out for me. Careful not to put my weight on her, I brought my mouth to her thick nipple. It was plumper than last summer and incredibly swollen. I gently played and applied pressure with my mouth, as when she fed me in the past, but nothing came out.

She stroked my head gently, then brought her fingers to her tits. I released her nipple and watched as she tugged and manipulated it until a thick ooze of cream trickled out.

"For you," she whispered, and I returned to her nipple and her nurturing of me. I often wonder if my desire to nurse on her tits stemmed from not having a mother in my childhood.

But this wasn't one of those moments of wonder regarding my issues; this was her offering her body to me. With my other hand, I gently kneaded her right tit.

Her legs were akimbo, and my feet were on the ground as she scooched to the corner of the bed. She held my shaft and gently guided it in. Despite all our other positions, this was the perfect way to end this session. I supported my body with my arms, gently pressing against her belly, but with no pressure. Her soft tits swayed with the rhythm my cock sunk into her.

She dug her nails into my back as my cock pushed the walls of her labia. I could feel them close in and gasp my shaft with each push and pull. Her body seemed to recognize and anticipate my impending ejaculation, and a rush of hormones thickened her vaginal lubricants into a milky lather, creating an intense friction. It was as if her body was rewarding me for siring her in utero child, creating a velvety smoothness to in exchange for the gift of life. She could hear my moans, louder than in the past.

"It's different, right?" she said between gasps.

"It's amazing," I managed to reply.

"My body has selected you. It's rewarding you. Go ahead, you can ride me hard. I want you to feel this."

I increased my thrusts, enjoying each sensation from the exquisite lubrication she was creating within her.

The slick velvet of her walls seemed to close in on my shaft, like closing time in a bar. I brought my mouth to hers, pressing against her flesh. A trickle of her creamy colostrum dribbled from her thick nipples without any provocation.

Our mouths met, tongues battled and then I felt myself beginning to cum. She felt it, too, and pulled me in tighter so my seed would not escape.

Pulse after pulse, each depositing an excess of my semen, useless as it may be, filling her folds. She bit my lip as her orgasm hit, unintentionally drawing blood that intermingled with our kissing.

As our twin orgasms subsided, I remained deep within her per her original instructions. Never remove myself without her permission.

Finally, she nodded, which was permission to withdraw, and I gently pulled out. A rush of cum followed along with an unladylike slurping queef.

She winced. But not in pain, but loss.

"I hate that feeling. When you pull out, I hate it."

She was still panting, and I was exhausted as I carefully rolled off her and then moved in behind her so my thick, potent cum mixed with her creamy, velvety fluid, rested against the crack of her ass as we both came down together.

She pulled me in, savoring the comfort of our embrace, as she began to contemplate the reality of our actions. I could tell she loved being cradled in my arms as my warmth filled her inside. She had no regrets about this moment.

On the other hand, I wished this weren't just a one-night event and that she would stay here in Boston with me. But in the morning, she was on a plane back to Utah, back to The Bishop, ready to bear our child, whom he would claim as his own.

I hated that man for possessing two things that were rightfully mine.

Hated him.

Chapter 11: This Is Not A Negotiation.

It was late April when Nelly was born. I received a birth announcement featuring the entire Barton family gathered around Mandy and my baby. There they were; my brothers and sisters, along with The Bishop. I felt his gaze as if his eyes were looking directly at me from the still photo. His smile conveyed everything.

You provide, and I'll take it all.

If I told you the name Daniel Plainview, and said you knew who that was, then know this: The Bishop was worse. I hated him.

My graduation came and went. Mandy and the family sent me a card, but none of them came to see me walk across the stage. Why should they? I'm just the nice guy from next door. Nothing more. I had to remind myself that these people were not my family. That child wasn't mine to raise.

As emotionally painful as it was, my association with The Bishop has paid off. I gained admission to a prestigious law school and now held a position at a prominent law firm in Denver, with the chance to become a partner by the time I turn thirty. I owed all of this to The Bishop, and that infuriated me.

My office in Denver overlooked the distant Rocky Mountains. I know I could have achieved all this on my own. I could have been accepted into Harvard Law and secured this job; I was certain of it. Well, I was sure of it. My college grades were good, and I tested well.

Who was I kidding? This was all part of a transaction. And that would be fine if I hadn't fallen in love with Mandy.

Who wouldn't want a no-strings relationship with an attractive woman in exchange for success? Everyone benefits.

So why did I feel like I made a deal with the Devil?

Speaking of the devil, I had been dwelling on this because of the meeting I had scheduled for 11 o'clock. The Bishop was in Denver on business and had asked to meet with me. He insisted on it being in my office.

It was fifteen minutes late when my secretary informed me that he was there. A classic power move: keeping me waiting to show his dominance.

Throughout all the years I had known The Bishop, I never had a private conversation with him. Honestly, I don't think we'd ever discussed anything substantial at all.

He entered and surveyed my spacious office with admiration, then took a seat and fixed his gaze on me. He was a large man, exuding pride and power, and he maintained his stare until it became uncomfortable.

"You can say, thank you," he began.

"Excuse me?" I replied, already lost.

"That view, this office, that degree, and my wife. You can say thank you."

You son of a bitch.

"Thank you. I'm pretty sure I've said it before."

"I like to hear it from time to time."

"How is Amanda?" I asked. She was my only concern.

Mrs. Barton is well. The baby is healthy. She's gotten back in shape. That child is a blessing from God. The entire Temple is excited about our gift."

"I'm happy for you."

"I don't have a lot of time, Ethan. I've come here to discuss the final chapter of this story."

And here it was, another transaction.

"Mrs. Barton is ovulating again. She's cut short her breastfeeding for Nelly and is ready to conceive our 7^th child."

"How does she feel about this?" I asked.

"She's a dedicated wife of a bastion of the church. That woman understands her traditional role in growing our family.

"Traditional?"

"Yes, Ethan, traditional."

His face was serious and almost deadly. He was threatening me without words. The man was worse than a mob boss.

I held up my hands in mock surrender; I'd not push the issue further.

"You will inseminate Mrs. Barton. I've had your schedule cleared in two weeks. You'll pick her up in Breckenridge. We have a Chalet high up the Telluride mountainside. It's private, remote, and perfect for this job. You'll spend the week together. Knowing her fertility and your motility, that should suffice."

"And then?"

"And then she returns home, you return to Denver, and you never come back to Provo. I've already begun the process of selling your Father's home."

"It's my home and I don't want to sell it."

"But you will. The paperwork is on your desk. You'll get far beyond market price. I'll make sure of it."

"Mandy likes to use the house, and I have no problem with that."

"She'll have no use for that house with seven children. And, as I said, your privileges in Provo, in all of Utah, are revoked."

The nerve of this guy, telling me I could never go home again. He was exiling me. Of course, I knew why.

"If there are no more questions, we don't need to see each other again. Please respect Mrs. Barton, I'm sure you will, and we'll conclude this arrangement neatly."

He turned to leave.

"I don't think we have closed the negotiations yet."

The Bishop turned to look at me, sizing me up.

"Negotiations? This is not a negotiation."

"Well, if I have something you need. This continues to be a negotiation."

"So, what is it, money? I know what they're paying you here. I don't think you need to put the bite on me."

"No money."

"Then, we're done."

"I want you to watch."

He looked at me coldly and hard.

"I want you to watch me make love to your wife. I want you to see me enter her body. I want you to hear her pleasure. I want you

The Bishop’s Hotwife: Part 4

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Fri, 14 Aug 2026 23:45:00 +0000

The Bishop’s Hotwife: Part 4

Asking forgiveness instead of permission.

Based on a post by Wendy Trilby, in 5 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.

"Saturday, Caleb has a soccer tournament all afternoon, and Sunday, oh, I know how much you love Sundays."

Yes, I did, and she could see my eyes light up.

"Tell you what, you come to church with us, we'll take the crew to Sonic for lunch and then home; I'm pretty sure I can be plastic balls deep in your ass by two."

She was so matter of fact about this.

"So, church?"

I didn't want to go to church with her and the family, but there was a certain wicked allure to attending services, knowing I'd be feasting on her later in the day.

"Can't I just wait for you until after church?"

"If you're there with us, I know I'll be sweating just a little more than usual."

She knew my kinks far too well. I couldn't resist her Sunday savor and quickly agreed.

This strange conversation was made even stranger as she was now scheduling me to attend church with her, then the exact time she would sodomize me. Salvation and sin in a single afternoon.

I didn't have to say yes, she knew I'd be there from the reaction of my cock that began to thicken rapidly. She gently stroked it and looked at it.

"You're right, seven and a half inches. Would you be a dear and get the coconut oil and that big ass plug from the bedside table?"

"Now?"

"If I'm going to shove seven inches up your cute bottom tomorrow, it's only fair you should shove your seven and a half inches up mine today."

"You mean; ?"

She bit her lip in a sensuous way and rolled over presenting her ass to me.

I move quickly to the side table, my breath quickening.

"You're sure?"

"I've been waiting for you to knock at my back door for a while. That Gideon thing really put a damper on our progress."

We had done just about everything else we could this summer, and now she was offering me her ass. Of course there was a price, my ass in exchange.

I and been fingers deep, I had probed with my tongue, pressed my cock on that pink knot of door and had surrendered to the notion it wasn't going to happen, but now she was granting me entry.

I found the coconut oil and the large ass plug and returned to her. She met me with a gentle kiss.

"Here's what I want you to do. Put that in me. All the way"

She rolled over so she was face down, then took several pillows and shoved them under her tummy, so she was tilted down with her ass up. Relaxing, she and opened her legs, a trickle of my cum leaked from her pussy to my pillow covers.

I approached her gently, smearing the soft coconut oil on her. The room was chilly enough that the oil was semi-solid, the consistency of soft butter. When it contacted her sealed puckernut, her body heat turned it to liquid in an instant. I wiped more on, gently poking into her tight ring with my forefinger. I pushed into the first knuckle and could tell she was receptive to what was to come.

I took the large plug and pushed it against her ass. I was tentative, not wanting to bring any pain.

"You can go harder."

With her permission I pushed again, and her anus dilated, opening a small gape, but that was all I needed and fed the pointed end inside to trap her muscles open.

Another push and her anus widened with remarkable ease. At its widest this ass plug was thicker than my cock so I was confident she could accommodate me.

When her anus was opened to its zenith, the plug was half in and half out, a push could reject it. A pull could accept it.

Her muscles took over, a gentle squeeze and a pull the entire ass plug was swallowed the plug sealing shut with gentle fart sound, leaving only the jeweled handle showing.

"You've been practicing," I whispered.

"I know you want to cum in my ass," she whispered, "do you have condoms?"

"Really? We need condoms?"

"You can cum in my ass inside a condom. But then you have to put the contents into my cunt."

I didn't have to ask why. She had made it perfectly clear all summer where my sperm had to end.

"No, I don't have any."

"Go to my house. Bedside table, right side, under a booklet of evening prayers. There are some there."

"You want me to go to your house for condoms?"

"No one is home. Go now while I let this toy relax my muscles. Hurry."

I sat up and thought about this.

"This is nuts."

"I want this for you," she whispered. "The backdoor is open."

I assumed she meant the backdoor to her house, but either way, I jumped up, threw on some sweats, and hurried out of my house to the bushes separating our two homes.

I looked around; no one was in sight, so I dashed for the back door. It was open. Inside, I hurried up the stairs, searching for the master bedroom.

Once I arrived, I approached the bed, opened the bedside table, and saw a metal liquor flask.

I then realized I was on the wrong side of the bed, so I jumped over to the right side, opened the drawer, shuffled through some religious materials, and found several condoms. I took one, shut the drawer, then opened it again and took two more. Why settle for one and done?

I gazed at the enormous bed and envisioned Mandy in it with The Bishop. That diminished some of the excitement.

But then I noticed her clothes hamper and lifted the top. Several pairs of her LDS garments were calling to me. I grabbed a pair and inhaled that scent that drove me wild. In seconds, I was back on track. I held on to the panties, stuffing them into my pocket to enjoy later, and I sprinted back to my house.

Stashing the garment in a kitchen drawer, I wondered who I had become. Two months ago, if you had told me I'd be having an affair with the woman next door and now be stealing her used underwear, I would have laughed. But that was me now; and I didn't mind at all.

I walked into the bedroom holding the condoms like a trophy.

Mandy was on the bed, on her knees, facing away from me. I think she had been in this position since I left, enjoying the expansion in her rectum.

Her hands were on her thighs just below where her ass cheeks met her legs. She was holding her ass cheeks open wide.

The ass plug handle was glaring at me.

I just stood there as she began to push. Her ass flexed and the ass plug pushed out then quickly retreated back in. She did it again, and again. Each time the plug came further out, widening her tight brown ring with each push.

"Can you push it out, or should I pull it?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"Push it out," I said. Goddam I wanted to see this.

She bent forward and placed her hands on her thighs to catch her breath. She resumed pushing, letting out a small moan with each push. From this view I could see her long pussy lips hanging below her, thick from her lust.

She was both putting on a show to please me and training her body to obey her commands, rather than nature's instructions. So, I practiced the virtue of patience.

She gripped her cheeks and gave a strong push, the egg-shaped toy crowned. She gave another push, and it popped out, followed by a small rush of fouled coconut oil that had been trapped inside. There was a little noise, half air, half wetness.

Then her asshole closed and quickly opened again. She flexed her core, and it remained open like a small mouth, fixed to whistle, ready for me to enter.

She had a penchant for doggy style, something I realize other women liked as well. I always felt self-conscious in this position, because it felt so dominant, and I wasn't sure if that was my sexual personality; until this summer when Mandy assured me, she was mine to do with as I wanted. I grew to love the control doggy style gave me over her.

Strangely, she had trained me to be more assertive, to encourage and bring out any dominant traits I had kept buried. So, as she presented her ass to me, I knew it was mine to enjoy; so long as I didn't cum in there.

I quickly unwrapped the condom and rolled it on my cock. It was pre-lubed, but so was her ass as clear drips of coconut oil dribble down her perineum to her cunt.

I chose to stand, bending my knees to bring my cock to the waiting hole. Her sphincter looked like a large round bullseye against the paleness of her ass. I wasn't sure how long she could keep it open, so I grasped my cock and pushed the thick cap past the open barrier.

She groaned with pleasure as I expanded her slightly upon entry. Putting a hand back to my thigh, she slowed me.

"Give it a second, baby, just a second."

I paused and could feel her tight muscles on my cock tip, slowly that grip faded and pushed forward.

"Easy now,"

"Oh my God, you're big. You're;"

I wasn't sure if she was just trying to stroke my ego or making a declarative statement. I put one hand on her back, the other on my leg and continued inward.

She let out a high-pitched howl, three times in a row, something I had never heard before.

I gave a hard push.

"Oh my God, not all the way in yet, please." She begged.

I hesitated. Then decided I was in charge and pushed inward. She reacted with a long groan. I gave several pushes then withdrew to admire her open ass.

Holding my latex covered cock in hand I admired the view of her waiting for my next plunge. Her unused pussy lips were visible below, confused by the blood swelling them, but lack of attention.

I thrust deep in her ass this time driving myself to the hilt. While the ass plug might have been wider than me at its midpoint it wasn't longer, and my cock entered the deeper areas of her rectum unexplored by fingers or toys.

Her internal muscles went to work on my cock enclosing around it and doing what nature created them to do, ripple and pulse to expel anything in the area. So, while her rectum tried to push me out, I overpowered it will be pushing inward, and the battle of pleasure began for the two of us.

I let out a low groan.

"You like that filthy hole, don't you?" she said.

I certainly did, and I also enjoyed hearing her speak in this manner. Not that she didn't speak during sex; she was always vocal. But she didn't say things like that.

"All I could think of in church was that thick cock of yours in my ass," she continued. "I soaked my panties thinking of you."

Wow, she was going places, but I didn't reply instead began to push and pull my cock creating a frenzy of pleasure. I responded with a groan, but she wanted more.

I tried my hand at it.

"All I could think about in that hot church was to bend you over the pew and fuck your ass in front of the entire congregation."

I pressed harder to emphasize my claim on her, and she responded with a long, submissive moan. I was confident the mental imagery I painted in her mind was compelling.

"I would make The Bishop watch me defile you."

She liked that and replied.

"He would be so angry, knowing I let you in my ass."

As obscene as that image was, it emboldened me to fuck her ass harder as I fantasized about The Bishop being forced to watch me take his wife in that sacred sanctuary.

I could have finished but the position was causing my legs to cramp.

I withdrew, my cock to with a loud fart sound from the air I had pushed into her colon. She was caught her off-guard, but I gave her no time to react and then dragged her body back, so her feet were off the bed, torso on the bed, and her ass was presented to me at the perfect height to defile it.

A thick glob of coconut oil mixed with her anal moistures rolled down her inner thigh as I was quick to reenter her, only now I was pushing hard and no longer exploring her ass, I was fucking it mercilessly.

But this position wasn't perfect either. I pulled out to another rush of air and noise.

"It feels numb; It's so good. Keep going," she begged.

I moved her forward, this time flat on the bed, her legs spread open. I crawled on the bed on my knees, her ass under my balls. Guiding my cock back to the hole I desired. Perfect. This was the way to fuck a woman's ass.

She made that strange sound of pleasure.

"That's it, baby. Deeper. I can take it,"

I put my hand on her shoulders so I could lean on her, and it was game on. I was pumping away furiously at her ass, the bed which was usually sound and secure was rocking. The room was heating up, and the smell of our illicit conjunction filled the room.

"I'm going to cum," I declared.

"Do it Baby, you can come in my ass," she reminded me.

There was a hitch in her breathing, her body began to tighten, and her legs twitched. That was the last thing she said as her orgasm hit her with a surprise.

Her anus constricted against my cock, and I felt the familiar muscle contractions of an orgasm, but with my cock sleeved in her tight flesh tube, it was far more intense on me.

Despite the condom, her anal orgasm was incredible. She howled a cry of pleasure, and she released a small shot of piss that I didn't bother to point out followed by an intense massaging on my cock by the muscles of her pelvic floor.

My orgasm was intense. As the semen exited my cock it immediately shrouded my cock with its sticky warmth. The condom held and contained my sperm, which I imagined was teeming with life-giving DNA, slamming against the walls of their latex prison looking for a warm body to impregnate.

She lay there spent, but very much aware. This wasn't over. We had both enjoyed the moment, but according to her wishes, we needed to complete God's will and deposit my seed inside her vessel.

I withdrew slowly, holding the condom to my cock so it wouldn't slip off insider. Her anus closed with a confused sputter, spitting out drips of coconut oil, air and other sounds.

I pulled back, and she rolled over to ensure I had done as promised.

My cock was semi hard, and I gently slipped the condom off, holding it closed.

She pulled her legs back, grasping each by the thigh,

She and watched as I careful squeezed my sperm out of the condom into the folds at the top of her cunt. She brought her fingers to catch any stray drips, making sure most, if not all, found its way inside her.

When she couldn't get any more out of the condom she found my cock, still semi hard enough to enter her and placed the condom back on me, this time inside out to create a cum covered sheath.

I recognized her intention was for me to insert myself and push the excess cum into her. It seemed like the exact opposite if what a condom was intended for, but was different, as was everything to do with this woman, and I rode her semi soft until the condom came out clean, washed by her cunt that greedily claimed all traces of my thick white seed.

We collapsed on the bed next to each other, but that moment was short-lived. She then sat up to get dressed and go pick up one child and drop off another, then prepare for a bake sale, a PTA meeting, and find time for a manicure.

"Don't you get tired?"

"Exhausted. But this is my life, I chose it, I love it. I really do."

"This part too?"

"Oh, I love this part so much. What I get to do over here is my reward for everything else I do the rest of my day.”

She opened the bedside table drawer and took out the smallest ass plug, then threw it to me.

"You might want to start training that gorgeous behind of yours for Monday."

She gave me a gentle kiss and was gone. I was left holding a bejeweled ass plug sitting naked atop sheets that were stained with a variety of liquids.

I had two dates lined up with Mandy: Costco and church. On the sexy date meter, these two destinations probably wouldn't even register a 1 out of 10, but I was as excited as I had been for my senior prom. The prom came with the promise of a blowjob from Cindy Taylor, and all Costco had in store for me was schlepping Mandy's stuff from the store to her car, but couldn't wait.

I was out front and ready for our Costco date. As we walked into the store, sure enough, she ran into several people she knew. Mandy knew everyone.

She was cool, casually introducing me as her husband's intern. No one would suspect anything else. Inside the big-box store, she was an expert, filling two carts. I learned a lot about Kirkland versus name brands. I made sure to keep my distance and prevent my hands and eyes from wandering and having a wonderful time.

As we rolled down the aisle with baking goods, she asked me to go get the huge tub of coconut oil down from the shelf. Since there was no one around, she whispered in my ear.

"Better get two, who knows, I really might like fucking your ass."

I was blushing, but I obeyed and grabbed a second jar of the best lube around.

I bought her a hot dog at the food court, and she shared gossip about all the people we had seen in the store. I noticed she had purchased a bottle of whisky, hidden in the cart by toilet paper and paper towels.

"What's up with the whisky? You trying to take our coffee game up a notch?"

"Is whisky good in coffee?" she asked with genuine curiosity

"The Irish seem to think so."

I'll have to give it a try. This is for The Bishop. We all have our vices; his is a small taste of whiskey once in a while.

I recalled the flask in his bedside table. It was an interesting tidbit of information.

We changed topics, but it did leave me wondering about The Bishop and what it was about him that bothered me, aside from the fact that he was Mandy's husband.

We had to cut our fun short because the frozen items were thawing, but I can't remember the last time I had such a great meal with a woman.

Actually, I could. It was our lunch date at Georgetown before my senior year. A date, whether real or not, isn't about the food or the atmosphere; it's about the company you keep. I wanted to keep her forever, but not in a creepy way.

We got to her house, and I helped unload the car and stock the shelves.

"I had a great time," I said.

"Great time, where?" Hannah said as she walked into the kitchen.

"Costco, your mom took me to Costco. I've never been there. I got socks and some other stuff."

Hannah looked at me nonplused.

"Wow, Ethan, Costco. So exciting?"

"Ethan is learning about the simpler things in life. He's coming to church with us on Sunday."

Hannah brightened up.

"Then I guess Costco will be the highlight of your week."

She left.

"Don't listen to her. You'll find church to be very uplifting."

As long as I was there with her, I didn't mind all the fire and brimstone they could throw at me.

I woke up early on Sunday, showered, shaved then shaved my balls, crotch, and even my ass. I wanted to be ready for what Mandy had in store for me.

The Amazon box arrived two days ago, and it had been several days since we were intimate.

I walked to the Bartons' and climbed into the passenger seat of the Suburban. The Bishop took his car because Sundays were an all-day event for a man of his stature.

Amanda wore a properly fitted green linen dress with large buttons. The outfit, along with the LDS garments she wore underneath, kept her large tits subdued. Her only indulgence was her matching green heels.

The Bishop wasn't sitting with us, but rather in a pew alongside other Bishops and elders.

The speaker's sermon focused on readings from Genesis 2:18. The reading was clear in its purpose: "And the Lord God said, It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him."

Mandy leaned over to me. "Is that me? Am I your helper?"

As I processed the sermon, which focused on God's design for marriage and a one-flesh union, I could see how she was helping me. I h

The Bishop’s Hotwife: Part 3

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Fri, 14 Aug 2026 01:15:00 +0000

The Bishop’s Hotwife: Part 3

Gideon Gets it on.

Based on a post by Wendy Trilby, in 5 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Walking around the impressive property, I was greeted by neighbors, some I knew, others I had never seen before. I recalled several of them being friends of my father.

Walking by the pool, I found Gideon, Hannah's brother, who was the reason for the party. He was coming up the pool ladder, enroute back to the diving board.

"Gideon, congratulations on the mission. You must be very excited."

Gideon stepped up to shake my hand. He was 18 and about to face adulthood directly. I was glad I never went on a mission, but I was also impressed by how much my LDS friends learned about life during theirs.

Gideon's eyes were locked on the pool, and it was easy to see she was distracted by the attractive moms in their bathing suits.

"Hey, Ethan, welcome back home. I'm sorry to hear about your dad. He was such a great guy and even came to all my baseball games." I guess my dad and I both had some regrets. Dad was busy working hard and being a single dad. And then I’ve stayed away at college for years, hardly even calling my dad. It probably crushed him. And that’s what probably led to his enjoying the Barton kids and investing in them.

"Really? I don't think he was at one of my football games. So, Chicago, huh? Not too bad for a mission. No need to learn a new language. Although you might want to brush up on your colloquialisms."

Gideon was confused.

"If someone doesn't want to hear you talk about the Book of Mormon, just grab your balls and say, suck on this." It's like saying thank you in Chicago speak."

Gideon laughed. I knew men his age had issues with the church, and as exciting as it might be to get away from home for a year, he was probably wondering what it was all for.

"Which college are you thinking about? No, wait, let me guess: BYU."

Gideon laughed again. The chances of one of the Barton kids attending any school other than BYU were slim.

His twin sister, Hannah approached. It was astonishing to realize how much she resembled her mother. I didn't want to sexualize her, but she was 18, and in the Mormon faith, some girls her age have two children by this point.

"The Bishop was asking for you." Hannah said with a warm smile. Gideon waved off and went back to the diving board.

It always amazed me that the Bartons referred to him as The Bishop, rather than dad or father.

"Me? Why?"

"He didn't say.” Then she changed the subject; “Hey, do you know the Kristensons? The two oldest sons?"

"Buck and Hank, yeah. Buck was my year."

"Could you introduce me to him? I know him kinda, from the temple, but you and he were friends."

"Of course. If that's what you want. Buck's a little wild, though."

"Hey, I can be wild too," she fired back with a devilish grin.

Naturally, that would be the moment Amanda would walk up.

"Excuse me, young lady," her mother glared.

Hannah turned beet red.

"I'm wild about skiing, too, Hannah. Too bad I'll be back at school when the mountains get snow."

Hannah smiled, appreciative of my giving cover to her story. She left, leaving me with Mrs. Barton.

"What did I tell you about talking to Hannah?"

"She was talking to me, " I said defensively. "Look, this isn't a good idea. I'm going to leave, Okay?"

Mrs. Barton looked at me and I could see she felt bad.

"I'm sorry. I've been rude to you. It's just that I'm under all this pressure, and I've got you and The Bishop, and then I have to wrangle all my kids. I took a Xanax and I'm waiting for it to kick in."

"Hey, you're truly incredible. I mean, really incredible. I just don't understand how you do it."

"It's because I care too much. I like to please people.

"Well, you sure know how to please me."

I then tensed up and looked around to ensure no one heard that comment.

She gently touched my arm and gave it a slow, sensual rub. From her touch, I could tell she wanted to be in our bed in my house.

"I'm going to head out," I whispered.

She looked around and then leaned toward me.

"Follow me."

She started walking toward the car barn, and I followed.

The Bishop had built the car barn to house his collection of cars, cars he felt promoted his masculinity. The barn housed seven vehicles and the family's Gulfstream trailer. I immediately spotted something special: a 19 75 green Ford Bronco in mint condition.

"Wow, is this what you wanted to show me? It's great. Look at the condition. This is wonderful."

She leaned on the hood of the vehicle like a car show girl.

"Want to see something even better?" She asked.

She didn't wait for me to respond and turned so she was facing the front of the vehicle. She leaned forward, and her skirt hiked up slightly, but not enough to reveal anything. Reaching back and she flipped it up revealing her soft white ass.

"You wore the red lingerie," I said with a smile.

"That's not all," she replied as she put her thumbs in the bands of her panties and pulled them down to reveal her bare ass punctuated by the bedazzled handle of the ass plug sticking out of her clench.

I stood there in awe of this woman.

"All day. Just for you," she purred.

She tipped further forward and pushed from her core; her anus dilated slightly revealing some of the gold toy. She then relaxed, and her tight ring sealed around the stem, keeping the toy where the sun doesn't shine.

"Oh my God. How does it feel?"

"Full, I feel wonderful, but full. It's the big one. I had a spontaneous orgasm about an hour ago. I was sitting there, and it hit me when I was talking to Sara Carlton. She asked if I was Okay."

"You're better than Okay. You're amazing."

I knew it was time to leave. I also knew that what we were doing was against our own rules, but she remained bent over the Bronco, with her white ass glowing, punctuated by the jeweled handled of the ass plug and below that a drop of dew forming on her backpussy. I had been in her snatch so many times with fingers, my face and my cock, yet at this moment I want her more than ever.

"Make it fast," she whispered.

Game fucking on!

I had my cock in hand in seconds. It felt bigger than ever. But then again, I'd never had an LDS mom lying on the hood of her husband's car, in his garage, beckoning me to take her from behind.

My cock was coated with her wetness the moment I pressed it against her slit. I slid in fast and deep. The sensation of my cock and her stuffed rectum was overwhelming, and she let out a whispering groan. I set a rapid pace, and she responded with gentle signs of pleasure each time I thrust inward. Her wetness increased and her pussy made loud slurps as it swallowed my cock.

My eyes were locked on her stretched hole, which fought to retain the toy. She put her hands back, grasping her ass cheeks pulling them wide to give me an incredible view of my cock entering her pussy clean and coming out of her coated in glistening wetness.

I decided to change things up, then pulled my cock out, dropped to my knees and planted my face in her back pussy to let my tongue give my cock a short break.

"We don't have time for you to;"

She never finished her sentence my tongue darted across her dangling clit.

"Oh, that motherfucking tongue of yours."

I needed to get my cock back inside her because she was talking up a filthy storm and it would probably only take one more "motherfucker" for me to blow my lode.

I stood and pushed my cock in hard and fast, surprising her. Her body reacted, her core responded as I began to pump her pussy. In our heightened state and the relaxation brought on by her Xanax, we were both unaware her asshole was giving birth to the ass plug.

I glanced down to see the egg-shaped toy pop out, followed by a rush of lube and her anus snapping shut.

I vaguely remember it hitting the ground with a metallic clang, but she and I were now reaching our plateaus, and neither of us wanted to stop.

Her empty brown eye opened and closed with each push and pull and when I felt her body shake with pleasure, I unleashed a healthy flow of cum deep within her.

She moaned in pleasure as she felt herself being filled, and it was in that moment of bliss we both forgot about the plug that had rolled under the Bronco.

You could smell our lust in the air as we slumped forward onto the dusty truck. She was pressed against the hood, and I was pressed against her back as we tried to catch our breath.

In the distance, I heard something topple over. I'm not sure of what, but the sound brought us to. She turned, putting a finger over her pursed lips, shushing me.

She quickly pulled up her panties and flipped he dress down, and I pulled up my shorts and straightened up.

She guided me away from the area, walked me to the driveway, ensured no one was around, and gave me a deep kiss.

"I have to get back," she said, "but thanks for coming."

I wasn't sure if she was making a pun.

"My pleasure," I replied.

"Hey, the plug. It fell under the car," I reminded her.

"I'll get it, you go."

She gave me a deep kiss, the kind that's hard to break and could easily turn into another session. She then broke off and gave a wink.

I walked through the bushes into my yard. We had broken our rules about sex outside the non-kosher kitchen, and nothing had gone wrong. Maybe some rules were made to be broken.

Chapter 4: Nothing Gone Wrong.

As I kissed Ethan, I could feel his semen gently flowing from my cunt, saturating the red fabric of his favorite panties. The warm fluid turned cold against the breeze coming up my skirt.

When we were out of the garage and out of sight, I put my hand in his and left him with a kiss that promised so much more.

I gave him a little shove and watched his ass as he left. Our liaison in the garage was unexpected, but was it really?

I had taunted him with the sex toy. I could pretend what happened was spontaneous, but deep down, I wanted him to take me amid The Bishop's favorite things. I wanted him to know he could have me anytime, anywhere.

When I entered into this agreement, it was about sex, but things were changing rapidly. Now it was about my desire to be with Ethan as much as possible.

We had broken our rules about sex outside the non-kosher kitchen, and nothing went wrong. Maybe some rules are made to be broken.

I'd need to change my panties or risk his cum dripping down my legs. But first I needed to retrieve the ass plug. I returned to the exact spot. I could see the dust on the hood of the truck been wiped clean.

I bent over to look under the car and heard a familiar voice,

"Mom, we need to talk."

I turned to see Gideon holding the gold ass plug that I had ejected from my ass.

A cold trickle of Ethan's thick cum slid down my leg.

Chapter 5: Fucking Gideon.

It was nice to sleep in on Sunday. I knew Mrs. Barton wouldn't show up until after church. She usually made sure her kids had lunch and then came here to prepare a meal for me.

We ate, screwed and then she left, returning home before The Bishop returned from the Temple.

There was something I learned to love about Sundays. A kink I didn't know I had until our first Sunday together.

Her daily routine was no different on Sundays, rise early, poop, shower and be perfect before the rest of the family was awake.

Sunday mornings meant getting everyone fed and out the door for church. It meant dressing nicely, and that included wearing her church undergarments.

While The Bishop was often indifferent to her wearing the church garments on the daily, he was insistent that they be worn on Sundays and would inspect her before leaving for church. She had come to mention that the inspections were humiliating, but she obeyed, nonetheless.

On Sundays, despite being fresh and showered in the morning, she would come to me after spending several hours in a hot church wearing her thick polyester undergarments. The church was hot; the service was long. Her pussy, shrouded in religious garb that did not breathe, ripened with pheromones and alkie, as thoughts of how she and I would please each other later in the day.

We jokingly called it her Sabbath savor, and if I had my choice, I'd ask her to wear the garments more often so it could feel like Sunday every day of the week. Her smell and taste on Sundays were never offensive, in fact, just the opposite. It became an aphrodisiac, something I could not resist.

If there was ever a question of the power of the Sabbath Savor, it was answered the day after Gideon's goodbye luncheon.

I heard the door open. She was early. Maybe she got the kids some takeout. Since it was 11:00 a.m., I decided to get up and shower before our session.

She walked into my bedroom wearing her conservative Sunday clothing. I knew that beneath that dress, she had on the least sexy outfit imaginable: thick polyester panties and a top; her LDS garments. And she had been sweating for hours.

"Time to do some motherfucking," I said jokingly.

I then noticed the stern look on her face and how she was shushing me. She came over to me and pulled me into the bathroom.

"My son is downstairs, so perhaps ease up on the motherfucker stuff."

I froze as I processed her words.

"What the fuck is he doing here? Which son?"

"Gideon."

"Why would you bring him here?"

"He saw us."

"Saw us? Where?"

"When you bent me over my husband's car and fucked me."

My head was spinning as I tried to process what she revealed.

"He watched us; he watched you get;"

She nodded yes.

I was experiencing an out-of-body moment. This couldn't be real. Closing my eyes, I hoped it was just a dream. A terrible dream. But it was happening.

She moved in close and spoke quietly.

"He's eighteen, he's full of hormones and about to go off on his mission. He made it clear to me that he'll keep our little indiscretion a secret."

"A secret?" I asked with a hopefully. "He won't tell The Bishop?"

"There's an if."

"He won't tell The Bishop if?"

"If we allow him to watch us have sex."

"Jesus Fucking Christ!"

"Would you please check your tongue? This is the Lord's Day, so there will be no blasphemy."

"No blasphemy? As if that's the most heinous thing we're discussing. What about the no adultery part?"

"In this house, you're my husband, so I don't consider it adultery. I want us to show my son how passionate people to make love."

"This is nuts. If he tells The Bishop, we're both fucked. And not in the good way."

"He won't tell The Bishop. All we need to do is make love, he watches, and then he's off on his mission for two years."

Fucking Gideon.

That little shit had negotiated himself a hell of a strange deal. He gets to watch his mother have sex, something he could hold over her head for the rest of her life.

Of course, since he would be on his mission for two years, I'd be long gone when he returned. By then, I'd have sold my dad's house and be the hell out of Utah. The emotional fallout wasn't going to be on me.

It's funny how thoughts work. Here I was contemplating a crisis, and a positive spin where I no longer lived here, and the Bartons were a distant memory, I grew sad. I looked at Mandy and realized that I didn't want to be apart from her. Even after this mess we were currently in.

But that was a problem for a different day.

I sat on the bed and rubbed my head, trying to stave off the growing headache.

"Okay, all right, so how do we do this? It's like a cuck thing, I guess. He sits and watches. Do we pretend like he's not there? This isn't a three-way thing, is it? You're not inviting him in, are you?"

"Despite all the complexities of the situation, he's my son, and he'll remain at a respectable distance from us. He can watch; he cannot talk."

"Good, because the fastest way to lose an erection is to have a conversation with the son of the woman you're fucking while you're fucking her. And to be clear, you're not inviting him in?"

I saw anger in her face for the first time ever. It was hard to believe there was a line with her that I could cross, but I just did.

"I realize my moral line is different from most women, but no, my son is never invited to my bed."

"Why not just tell him no? Is this some kind of blackmail?"

She sat on the bed to unpack the situation.

"Did you know he's engaged to be married? The day he returns from his mission in two years. Christa Martin, she's 17 now, but they'll be sealed in the Temple when she's 19."

I was unsure where she was going with this.

"Umm, congratulations for them?"

"That night, he'll take her to their marital bed and make love to her for the first time."

"And this affects me how?"

"If he's an inadequate lover, it'll doom their relationship."

"Is that what happened to you and The Bishop?"

She shook her head no.

"The Bishop learned by watching his parents make love. When he was 18 and could make his own choices, they allowed him to watch. When he took my virginity, it was transcendental."

I could feel pangs of jealousy at the mere mention of another man making love to her.

"It's important to me that Gideon become an adequate lover for his wife."

"So, you agreed to let him watch us? I've got news for you, what we have been doing is not normal."

"He needs to observe a loving relationship between a husband and wife."

"Then he should watch you and The Bishop."

She put her head down, upset that she could not convince me.

"He needs to understand how to bring pleasure to a woman. He has no knowledge of this. He'll watch us and learn."

"There is porn for that."

"Porn is not a husband and wife making love for procreation, expressing love, and strengthening their emotional and spiritual bonds."

"We do none of that," I replied. "We fuck. A lot."

"Are you telling me you don't feel an emotional bond between us? You call me your wife. I call you husband."

The truth is, I felt a tremendous emotional bond with her. I loved having her with me and hated it when she went back to The Bishop.

I often imagined The Bishop next to her in bed and reveled in the thought that my semen was inside her in his presence. It gave me an alpha feeling.

She was waiting to see how I would respond to her question about our emotional bond.

"Look," I said, "you know I care about you. You know, I think about you day and night."

"Then tell me now if you think we have an emotional bond."

She was outstanding at getting me to do her bidding or say what she needed to hear.

"Yes, we have an emotional bond," I confessed.

"Very good. That wasn't too hard to say, was it?"

I wanted to express much more. I wasn't even sure what an emotional bond was. What I felt for her had to be love, but this wasn't the time to mention that word.

I thought I had the high ground, but as she stepped toward me and embraced me with a gentle kiss, we both knew I would do anything she asked. Anything.

I wondered if I could per

The Bishop’s Hotwife: Part 2

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Thu, 13 Aug 2026 01:02:00 +0000

The Bishop’s Hotwife: Part 2

It’s not a tryst when she’s training me.

Based on a post by Wendy Trilby, in 5 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.

"You can have me any way you choose. But you must always finish in my cunt. God's seed is never to be wasted."

I found it amusing, or perhaps ironic, that she somehow integrated religion into what was essentially just a wild sexual affair.

"What about The Bishop?"

"The Bishop is a wonderful man-a great provider, a man of the temple, a leader. But he's impotent in the bedroom; he has been for years. I, on the other hand, have an insatiable thirst."

"Are you on the pill? Should I get condoms?"

"No and no. But Mandy needs frequent servicing."

"Um, who's Mandy? You keep saying her name."

"Me, I'm Mandy. At least here in the non-kosher bedroom. Amanda, Mandy. Get it?"

"I'm not even used to calling you Amanda; and now you have a nickname.

She wrinkled her nose at me.

"That name is meant for our shared use; no one else. As for Mrs. Barton, you should probably keep that up in public. We can't display any informality around The Bishop; he's a very intuitive man."

Mrs. Barton got on her knees and straddled my body. I hoped she was going to shed the robe, which she did, but only partway. She took off the top, revealing her tits.

"Now, if there are no more questions, I want to feel you inside me."

Her tits were large for her petite frame and hung down with some weight. Her areolas and nipples were surprisingly larger than I'd have imagined. She was always tan, but her tits were milk-white, and I could even see the blue of her veins.

She remained hovering over me, but when my cock began to stir, I could feel it pressing against something fleshy and wet.

She smiled.

"You like them. I can tell."

"They're amazing."

"They are. Now watch this."

She took her left hand and grasped the nipple of her left tit, placing her hand above the nipple and pushing down as she squeezed.

To my shock and amazement, twin tiny streams of milk shot out of her nipple, landing on my face; she continued to squeeze, and droplets of her mother's milk followed.

I was amazed, and I continued to harden in response. I could feel my cock pressing on the wet flesh under her robe.

"This is for John-John. I can't get pregnant while I'm breastfeeding, so we won't need any protection."

"You sure? That sounds like some kind of myth."

I have five children; I've nursed them all for over a year. I've made love countless times and never conceived while I breastfeed. So, no, we don't need any protection. We'll celebrate each other's bodies as God intended, natural, skin on skin, intimate. I'll do anything you desire, and you'll leave your seed in me. We cannot waste what the Lord has provided.

She held out her tit.

"Now, would you like to taste?"

I was unsure, but my cock was certain. It surged yet again against her body. I could not tell where, but a small trickle of hot fluid dripped from within her and drenched my glans let me know I was almost inside her pussy.

She bent forward, holding her left tit out, bringing it to my mouth. Her purple nipple was saturated in the milk she had already produced, and she gently guided it around my lips, wetting them.

I opened my mouth wider, and she pushed her thick teat inside, like a cock penetrating a cunt. She was forceful, and her tit flesh filled my mouth as her nipple sought out my tongue and urged my mouth to latch on.

I could smell her clean body and the scent of her milk.

"Come on, Bryant, taste Mandy."

My mouth closed on her tit, creating suction, and my tongue stimulated her nipple, telling her nerves it was time to produce. There was nothing, and then she gave a gentle sigh. I could feel a strange sensation as her milk ducts contracted, followed by a letdown, and her breast milk filled my mouth.

"There's a good boy," she said as she went from straddling me to sitting directly atop my cock.

The warmth of her pussy enveloped my cock. I wasn't inside her, but her cunt was around the length of my cock like the bun of a hot dog, sliding back and forth, wetting and preparing it.

Slowly, she took her teat out of my mouth. I chased it slightly, but she pulled it away, drying it with the robe.

"That's all for you. The rest is for John-John."

She slid back and forth over my cock, using her pussy to sense how hard I was.

"You want me to take a shower first?" I offered.

"No, I want to taste your sweat; I want to smell your animal scent. Now, one more thing. Take off that lingerie. From here on out, you're in charge of me. You tell me what you want. You tell me what you're going to do to me. You can punish me if I displease you."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "That feels kind of, I don't know."

"Have you heard the term Trad Wife? It means a traditional wife. That's me. I serve my husband and my family. Cook the meals, get the children off to school. Being a trad wife is my full-time job."

This wasn't the conversation I needed as I was about to enter her.

A man should treat his woman with love and respect, but with a firm hand. My job is to please my husband. In this bed, I am your property.

"But I'm not your husband."

"In this house, you are. I answer to you. You'll treat me as your wife, and I'll serve you as my husband."

And outside this house?

"I'm Mrs. Barton. Wife of Bishop Barton and expect you to honor that."

I was starting to comprehend her game and her rules.

I had always heard the joke: When Mormon girls go bad, they go really bad. But no one ever told me when Mormon moms go bad, they go incredible.

I decided to test the waters.

"Ok, Mandy, take off that robe and let me see your body."

Mandy complied by getting off the bed and dropping her robe, standing before me unadorned and unabashed. At least now I could see her entire body.

She was of average height, neither short nor tall, but she had a petite frame. You wouldn't know she had given birth to five children when clothed, yet her body revealed some signs of childbirth and early middle age.

Her tits, full and natural, bore the unmistakable signs of the milk she carried. Still, they retained a sexy fitness that was undeniably alluring.

She had some flaws, and while they were few, they made her all the more alluring. Her soft body bore the marks of her life. Her waist had a gentle, elegant curve, and despite having given birth a year ago, her skin remained tight. Her hips were full, and the only hint at the five children she had borne was the slight softness of her midsection.

Her pubic hair was neatly groomed above her perfectly bare slit. I could see her labia lips were large and hung down.

"Do I please you?" she asked.

She was very intentional in her statements.

Sure, she said I was meant to be in control, but I realized that she was someone who understood her power and required no one's permission to claim it.

She had orchestrated everything to lead us to this moment and was entirely unapologetic.

"You do."

I got up off the bed and tore off the lingerie, ripping it in half until I was standing before her naked. My cock was now fully erect.

I guided her to the bed, and she sat and scooched back. I sat next to her and slowly moved in. This incredible woman had masturbated me and then offered herself to me without limits, and yet I hadn't even kissed her.

She looked at me as I moved in for a gentle kiss. When our lips connected, I could feel a true spark of passion. Putting her hand around my neck, she pulled me in tight and opened her mouth to explore mine. Her hand slid to my erection and began to masturbate me gently. I could tell she wasn't trying to make me cum but was testing to see if I had refracted.

I let my hand drift to her tit, gently rubbing her nipple with my thumb. How we held each other and pressed our bodies together was strangely intimate and felt right.

I didn't feel like an adulterer. I felt like I belonged with her, and she belonged with me. My non-kosher wife.

I desperately wanted to feel her mouth on my cock. I knew I could tell her to suck it, but I wanted this to be her choice. I gently pushed on her head, letting her know my desire.

Far more experienced than I, she began to kiss her way down my body. She licked around my nipples and across my chest, taking in the salt of my sweat.

When she finally reached my cock she licked it gently, put the tip in her mouth and ran her tongue around a band of rough flesh under the thick cap. Looking up at me with a smile.

"I love a circumcised cock. So good-looking. So perfect. The Bishop isn't circumcised."

I wasn't looking for a conversation or debate about the aesthetics of circumcision, and I did not want to discuss another man's cock.

Fortunately, she put her mouth over my cock and took it gently in her mouth. I could feel her tongue working the underside of my shaft while she slid down the base and gently pulled back.

She was taking her time, enjoying the thickness of my cock as it begged for more friction.

My girlfriend had never been keen on blow jobs, and more than once, she used her teeth, which was always a deal breaker.

But Mrs. Barton; I mean, Mandy, came with all the care of an experienced, passionate lover, and her mouth-work was sending shivers through my body.

I'd have been happy to cum in her mouth, but the build-up to this moment was too intense, and I reminded myself I needed to finish deep inside her per her instructions.

Mandy moved her body, so she was down between my legs, my cock still in her mouth, her eyes looking up at me as she continued to bob slowly in and out.

I could see the wet sheen her saliva left when she would pull up on my cock, and then it would disappear as her mouth returned to the hilt.

She then pulled back, and my cock popped out of her mouth and slapped against my body with a wet, meaty sound. When she lifted my balls and took her tongue to my perineum I could feel her cleaning my flesh and teasing my anus, almost daring me to cum.

She finally crawled forward, moving over my body until her mouth was on mine again. Her weighty tits were pressing on my chest. She held my face as she kissed me gently.

"Baby, I know you want to be inside me, but would you taste me first?"

While completely unabashed, she had a way of suggesting the most lurid things most innocently.

"Taste you?"

"Uh huh. The Bishop won't go down on me. He considers it filthy. It's been so long since I've had a tongue in there. I love a tongue inside me."

What I wanted to do was fuck her, but the way she offered me to sample her pussy was inviting. I pushed on her shoulder to roll her over so I could go down on her, but she wanted to serve me.

She held me down and sat up, straddling my lower torso so that the round of her ass was just above the tip of my pulsating cock and she began to scooch forward.

She put a pillow behind my head and slid her wet pussy along my torso and then chest, leaving a trail of her glistening essences behind her.

As she shuffled forward, bringing her cunt to my face, I got a better look at the object of my desire. She had shaved her labia lips, revealing a pronounced pubic mound. Above the mound, she kept a neatly maintained field of thin pubic hair. Her pussy was swollen, and I could see she had surprisingly larger inner lips.

She smelled clean and wholesome and held still, allowing a long, clear string of her pussy juice to drip off her thick purple labia lips. It just held there, waiting for gravity to claim it.

She gyrated gently, and the drizzle of her thick glycerin effusion dripped down to my waiting tongue like drool.

I ran her thick honey across my lips with my tongue.

She lowered herself to my waiting mouth, leaving my nose free to breathe as she ground herself against my face with a long moan of pleasure.

I immediately went to work with my mouth and tongue. She took both hands, leaned forward and began running her fingers through my hair. Rising and falling methodically, she kept her hand in my hair, pulling it as she rode my face with indulgence.

Her gentle moans were like music, and the taste of her cunt was as intoxicating as the strongest liquor.

Occasionally, she would clear her hair from her face and grasp her heavy tits, massaging them as she enjoyed the ride.

She leaned in again, grasping my head, and, in doing so, brought her clit to my mouth. It was large, and when my tongue found it, she let out a moan and pulled on my hair painfully.

She widened her stance, pressing her pussy harder into me, making certain her clit was grinding against my tongue.

"Oh, my God, Bryant," she moaned and let out a cry that turned into a prolonged moan.

I attacked her clit again, and she shook her hands like she was bearing witness in a Baptist church.

Looking up, her nourishing breasts heavily swayed with her body. Her nipples were red and swollen again, and I could not resist the temptation to reach up and knead them.

Despite their density, they were butter soft. She brought her hands to mine. I thought to move them from her sensitive nipples, but instead, she guided me, showing me how she liked her tit touched and then brought my fingers to her nipples, teaching me how to draw milk from her with my fingers.

She leaned forward even more, positioning her clit right where I could suckle it like a third nipple.

"Oh my God," she moaned. "Please."

She was unaware of her body's reaction to the pleasure and began squeezing her legs against my head as she attempted to push the top of her pussy into me.

"I'm going to cum, baby. I can't hold it; the tongue. I've missed your tongue so much."

She didn't know what to do with her hands, so she placed them on her ass as she let out long wails that sounded like she was crying.

I looked up at her, but there were no tears, just eyes closed in bliss and her mouth open with her tongue halfway out.

Putting my hands on her ass I held her still as I moved my face from across her cunt, attacking and painting her clit with my saliva.

She put her hands up and cupped her tits, one in each hand, holding them like two loaves of soft bread dough. Looking down at me, she smiled to see me watching her.

There was a gentle gush of her juices, and her taste changed, with a hint of sweetness mixed in with the savory tastes I had been enjoying.

She was plateauing. Her breathing increased, I could feel her leg muscles tense, and the walls of her cunt turned purple.

Initially, it wasn't hard to find her clit, but now this close to orgasm, it retreated under its thick hood. I tried to chase it.

Turns out that's a button a man needs to stop pressing at some point. Rather than give me a lecture on proper clitoral attention, she scooched forward, sliding her greased labia over my face and putting her clit out of range of my mouth.

My old girlfriend had petite, quiet orgasms, but not Mandy. Her legs shook; her pussy began to flare.

My hands were still on her ass as my forefinger found the dark star of her anus. It was soaked from my saliva and her effluence, and when my finger pressed, it dilated enough for me to enter her dark opening. Her reaction was instantaneous.

"Oh, that feel so weird," she moaned.

Perhaps I was the first to venture into that darkness. I'd have to ask later because, at this moment, with my finger only a knuckle deep in her ass, her orgasm gripped her like a bomb. She let out a loud wail, which would have woken all the children if we had any, and then she went rigid. I pushed my wandering finger deeper as her inner muscles clamped down around it.

A thin sheen of perspiration covered her body as she gently ground her pussy against my face, careful to keep her overstimulated clit away from further action. Her cunt was covering my nose and mouth, and if she didn't dismount soon, I'd have to push her off to grab some air.

She leaned right, broke the tight seal of over my mouth, and rolled off me as her wetness and my saliva stretched in thin, glistening strands of her elastic effluence.

My finger was still in her ass, and she gently reached back to pull it out.

"Easy on the finger, babe. It's been a while since anything's gone in that doorway."

Well, that answered the question. I wasn't the first to explore that passage.

She rolled to my side and lay there exhausted.

"So, you finished, right?" I asked amateurishly.

"I'm pretty sure I just rained right in your mouth. So, you figure it out."

I smiled.

"Nice move with that finger. I think you added about 30 extra seconds to that ride."

"You said it's been a while since you've done that."

The Bishop disapproves of ass play. It's not part of God's plan for procreation.

Well, neither is oral sex, I replied.

"You think The Bishop would let me sit on his face? Not a chance. By the way, thank you for that."

"You don't have to thank me. I loved it. Do you mind if I ask a personal question?"

Mandy snuggled in close to me.

"I'm an open book to you."

"Why did you marry him? I mean, he's a nice guy, but you seem so much more, I don't know; evolved?"

"I was engaged to marry him when I was 17 and he was 30. My parents were excited. I mean, he was on track to be a Bishop in the Church, and now he is. We got married a week after I turned 18, and I started having babies. We're a good LDS couple, doing our duty to the church."

I didn't want to question the word "good" as I lay naked next to her, so I changed gears.

"How much longer with the nursing thing? I mean, I like it and all, but;"

"It's time to ween John-John soon. The Bishop wants us to have two more kids."

"Two more? That's seven kids. Are you sure about that?"

"I love being pregnant. I love serving the church. I love serving The Bishop, and now I love serving you. It's what I do best."

I did not understand this woman. She was as devout as they come, but when she walked through the doorway to my house, she was a wild sexual beast with no boundaries. At least none that I could discern.

I bit my lower lip and was immediately reminded of her intimate flavors. She noticed me licking around my mouth and brought her lips against mine to join in.

She began to lick more aggressively, enjoying the now-drying silk her body had left on my face.

"I can be very wet at times. I should have warned you,"

She returned to kissing me and then gently began to stroke my cock.

"Will you make love to me?"

I nodded yes.

"Do you have a favorite position?" I asked.

We have got all summer to find which one we both like best. Maybe, since we're both LDS; " she let the sentence dangle.

She gazed at me with a smirk, fully aware that I was a jack Mormon, which is as far from the faith as one can get.

"Missionary. What I was going to suggest was missionary."

She smiled and held her arms out for me. I gently rolled atop her body as her heavy tits hung to each side of her torso. Her flesh, pressed to mine, felt wonderful, and I would have been fine spending the evening in her embrace.

She brought her hand to my face and pulled me in for a kiss. It began tentatively, both of us uncertain. But when her lips met mine, she slipped her tongue and explored my mouth with hunger. My face glistened with the remnants of my visit to her pussy.

She could taste the lingering tang of her arousal, and it stirred something in her.

My cock was stiff and lying atop the rim of her slit, waiting for the right moment to slip inside. I felt a hand an

The Bishop’s Hotwife: Part 1

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Tue, 11 Aug 2026 23:41:00 +0000

The Bishop’s Hotwife: Part 1

When Mormon mothers go wild, they go really wild.

Based on a post by Wendy Trilby, in 5 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Chapter 0: Gideon's Dilemma.

Despite living in a large home with four brothers and two sisters, Gideon Barton had little privacy. When you're 18 just about everything gives you an erection and most young men turn to porn for relief.

But in Gideon's strict Mormon household, his father, The Bishop, a respected pillar of the church, imposed restrictions on internet access, computers, and phones. Visiting sites like Pornhub or Literotica was nearly impossible.

But then again, nothing's as vivid as the mind of a horny teen, and Gideon could create fantasies from just about anything. He had masturbated to thoughts of the weather girl on channel 5, several of his teachers, and right now, his mother's good friend, Kristi Haskett.

It was the Barton's big summer backyard barbeque and Mrs. Haskett had just emerged from the pool with firm, erect nipples poking through her bathing suit. She went for her towel, but the image of her thick nipples tenting the nylon of her modest swimsuit would remain burned in his memory to be recalled for countless masturbation sessions in the days to come.

That's all it took to make Gideon's balls swell. He needed to masturbate right now. With two brothers and two sisters plus a houseful of guests for the cookout, jerking off in a bathroom wasn't going to happen.

That wasn't an issue for Gideon as he entered the spacious car barn to conduct his personal business. Much more than just a garage, The Bishop had built the car barn to house his collection of cars, cars he felt promoted his masculinity. The barn housed seven vehicles and the family's Gulfstream trailer.

Gideon noticed how dusty his dad's 19 74 green Bronco was. He coveted this vehicle, even if that was a sin. His mom was trying to convince his dad to let him take it to college after his mission. After all, he was an adult, and his mother believed he needed to take on responsibilities, like owning a car.

But right now, he needed to masturbate and quietly entered his go-to spot, the Gulfstream trailer.

This had become his favorite place to masturbate. It was private, and he could concentrate on his fantasy as he stroked himself.

Getting some hand lotion from the bathroom, he sat on the couch, pulled his shorts down, and lathered himself up. Gently grasping his cock, he began slowly gliding up and down the shaft.

He closed his eyes and imagined Mrs. Haskett taking him by the hand behind the garage and showing him her tits. She held them out for him, offering him one to feed on.

This wasn't going to take long. He could feel his balls swelling and then;

He heard the side door to the car barn open and someone entered.

Fuck, not now.

Mrs. Haskett's tits would have to wait. He could hear two people talking in hushed tones.

"Wow, is this what you wanted to show me? It's great. Look at the condition. This is wonderful."

The voice was familiar, and Gideon moved to the window to see who it was.

"Want to see something even better?" came a voice he recognized as his mother's voice. Why was she in here?

He peered into the car barn, trying to see who she was talking to and if they were going to leave.

Looking out, he saw his mother leaning back on the hood of his father's green Bronco like a teenage girl flirting on a date.

Whomever it was, Gideon felt he was way too close to his mother. She then turned around, leaned forward, and her skirt hiked up slightly, but not enough to reveal anything. Reaching back, she flipped it up exposing her soft white ass.

Gideon nearly fell over in shock. What was she doing?

Just then, he could see the face of the other person. It was Ethan Bryant. He lived next door; he was in his last year of law school in Boston and home for the summer, clerking for The Bishop. He was probably around 25 or 26 years old.

"You wore the red lingerie," Ethan said with a lascivious smile.

Gideon’s mother was always talking about Ethan's success at law school and kept encouraging Gideon to use him as a role model.

"That's not all," his mother replied to Ethan as she put her thumbs in the bands of her panties pulling them down to reveal her bare ass. Ethan's eyes were fixated on her behind. Gideon strained to see, but from his angle, there was no looking into that dark abyss.

"How long have you;"

"All day. Just for you," she interrupted.

"Oh my God. How does it feel?" Ethan asked.

Gideon's mind was racing. How does what feel? Did she get some kind of piercing? What was he looking at?

"Full, I feel wonderful, but full. I had a spontaneous orgasm about an hour ago. I was sitting there, and it hit me when I was talking to Sara Carlton. She asked if I was Okay."

Gideon remembered noticing his mother shivering earlier when she was talking to Mrs. Carlton. What the hell was going on?

"You're amazing," Ethan said in a loud whisper.

Gideon's mother remained slumped over the car.

"Make it fast," she replied.

Ethan had his cock in hand in seconds. Gideon's eyes were wide. This was it. He was going to see someone have sex. Not just someone, his mother. He resigned himself to worry about that later.

Gideon watched as Ethan gently inserted himself into his mother from behind. She let out a long, plaintive groan, enjoying the moment.

Gideon thought he should run out there and put an end to this.

But he didn't.

Above anything in the world, he wanted to see people having sex. And here it was, just fifteen feet from him, a man riding an older woman from behind. They were carnal, and they were desperate. Never mind that it was his mother; this was sex, raw and unbridled, and he began to masturbate as he watched.

His mother's pelvis hitched as Ethan began increasing his cadence. It started slow, but they were picking up the pace.

Her red panties were now around her ankles. Her torso lay flat against the Bronco, and her face was a portrait of bliss.

If there was any doubt his mother wasn't a willing participant, the wet sounds of her pussy, and her less than muffled moans testified just how much she was enjoying the moment.

Gideon continued to stroke himself, pacing with the couple, not wanting to blow his load too soon.

His mother put her hands back, grasping her ass cheeks and spreading them, offering Ethan a better view of his target.

Then, out of nowhere, Ethan pulled himself out, revealing his sizable cock, dropped to his knees and planted his face in between her ass cheeks. The sounds of his mouth on her pussy echoed off the walls.

"We don't have time for you to;"

Gideon's mother never finished her sentence as she froze with pleasure.

"Oh, that fucking tongue of yours. That motherfucking tongue of yours."

From his hiding spot, Gideon was about to hyperventilate, having never heard his mother say anything more substantial than "darn it.”

Ethan stood, wiped the wetness from his face and then returned to fucking Gideon's mother from behind.

Their body friction increased, and it was evident the two were to about cum, as was Gideon. Mrs. Barton groaned loudly, followed by a metallic clank on the floor like someone had dropped a tool.

The two lovers didn't seem to notice or care and kept at each other, intent on reaching a mutual climax quickly. While Gideon's only experience with orgasm was his own, he watched his mother plateau, determined to burn the memory into his brain.

Inside the trailer Gideon was about to cum despite slow strokes, just the visuals were enough to finish him off. When he heard his mother's final groan he felt his balls swell and his cock erupted in a geyser of cum spraying on the walls and window.

With his pants around his knees, he staggered back and knocked over a box of cooking utensils, making a slight but audible clatter.

Fuck!

Gideon looked out the window again. The sound had spooked the two as his mother pulled up her panties and flipped back her dress, while Ethan zipped his shorts and straightened up.

She then led Ethan out of one of the side doors.

When Gideon was sure they were gone, he quietly exited the trailer and walked to the Bronco. The dust on the hood was disturbed, showing the buxom outline of a woman's body. On the floor was a puddle of what could only be spent cum and his mother's fluids combined.

Gideon took a rag and wiped off the dust, wiping off any evidence, then took the rag to wipe up the fluids on the ground. On his knees, he noticed something shiny under the Bronco. Reaching for it, he held it in his hand; a metallic gold ass plug, covered in a sheen lube and a bejeweled handle.

He knew what he had to do.

Chapter 1: The Homecoming.

Two years of law school were behind me, and I was returning home to Provo for my last summer. I was happy to be going home and sleeping in my old room, and equally excited that my neighbor, Bishop Barton, had secured me a legal clerking internship in his firm.

There was no better way to finish a successful law degree than clerking for Utah's most prestigious law firm, Pratt, Collins, and Barton.

I can't remember the last time I heard anyone call Rob Barton by his name. He was known as "The Bishop" due to his high standing in the LDS Church. That's the term that Mormons preferred, with LDS meaning The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Although they did use the term "Mormon," that name was sometimes used in a pejorative way. Thus, using LDS avoided any possible negative connotations.

The Bishop was a mountain of a man, imposing and always the center of attention. Despite having been our neighbor for as long as I can remember, I rarely spoke to him, but my dad and The Bishop's wife had secured me this internship last year.

Then the worst happened. My father passed away suddenly ten months ago. At just 25 years old, I had faced the loss of both my parents. My mother had died when I was only three, leaving Dad and me together all those years. Our relationship was rocky at times, but he always supported me and kept me focused on a prosperous future. I felt his absence deeply now that he was gone.

He was disappointed that I had left the Mormon faith. It wasn't that I questioned the faith itself, but all faith. Still, I was respectful of his beliefs and those of my LDS neighbors.

Living in Provo meant having LDS neighbors everywhere. Honestly, I can't think of a better place and better people. Despite the slurs and jokes about the faith, my LDS neighbors were some of the kindest people on earth. When Dad died, The Bishop and his wife, Amanda, traveled to Harvard to convince me to stay in school and finish. He reminded me how important it was to my Dad that I get that degree and assured me of the clerkship. Mrs. Barton promised to take care of my dad's home. They came through on both accounts.

These were good people, and I felt fortunate to have pillars of society in my life.

Mrs. Barton was younger than The Bishop and could have been a recruiting poster for Mormon wives. She was sporty, with blond, shoulder-length hair that framed her face effortlessly. She had an attractive figure, and her larger-than-average tits always caught the church dads' attention; and their wives. But if there was one feature that could stop me in my tracks, it was her smile. It made me feel welcomed and safe.

I grew up with the Bartons. I was seven when they bought the huge house next door. My memories of Mrs. Barton are that she was always pregnant. She had her first child, Gideon, that year, and then it seemed like she was always expecting right up until last year when she had her fifth child. Perhaps that explained her large tits, which I must confess, I'd sneak a peek at whenever I could.

Mrs. Barton was a traditional wife who began by having children to continually increase the LDS population. She was always busy, driving carpool, cooking meals, and doing everything necessary to support The Bishop's vital role as a community and church leader. The affectionate term for a woman devoted to her husband and family was helpmeet. As in, she was The Bishop's helpmeet.

Of course, being seen and at the center of attention due to her husband's status caused some jealousy, and some of the catty mothers called her the "More Mom," which is a bit of a slur, especially coming from other members of the LDS faith, demeaning her role to merely being attracted to the attention she received from her status.

I found an Amazon package at the door when I arrived home. After taking it inside, I turned on the lights. The place was clean and bright for a home that hadn't been lived in for several months. Mrs. Barton had undoubtedly ensured it was cheerful upon my return.

I sorted through the stack of mail, opening some items and throwing away others, and then remembered the Amazon package. Opening it up, I was surprised to see a delicate but revealing lingerie set. I held up the red thong and bustier top, wondering where they had come from. Looking back in the box, I found a sex toy, the Womanizer. It was a vibrating suction toy that only added to the mystery.

I looked at the box and noticed that it was addressed to me, but I certainly didn't order this. I put the items back in the box and set it aside.

A day later, I was finishing my paperwork for the clerk internship when I heard someone at the door.

I opened it to see Mrs. Barton, who walked into the house as if it belonged to her. I understood her actions because she had cared for it for so long.

"Come on in," I said with a joking smile. She looked at me with a smirk.

"Sorry, I just barged in, didn't I? I'm so used to coming over here and just decompressing."

She gave me a warm hug, pressing herself against me.

"Welcome home, Bryant. We have missed you. I've missed you."

I smelled toast burning and rushed to the kitchen. She followed me. It was burnt, so I tossed it out and poured myself a cup of coffee.

I had never tasted coffee until my first year of law school. Shunned by the LDS faith as a stimulant, I avoided it until midterms, but after my first cup, I was hooked.

"Coffee? Tisk tisk, what'll I ever tell The Bishop?"

"Law school, late nights. If this is a sin, let me be burned at the stake," I replied.

"I'm sure it can be overlooked. You know how many exceptions we must make to keep the faith. I had a Long Island iced tea a few weeks ago."

Mormons don't drink coffee, and they sure as hell don't drink alcohol, let alone a strong drink like a Long Island Iced Tea.

"I was out with some friends who weren't from church. They had wine, and I innocently asked for tea. Well, I said Long Island Iced Tea. I assumed it was like a tea and lemonade drink."

"That's an Arnold Palmer," I added.

"So, I found out. I took a sip and instantly realized it wasn't made with lemonade."

She leaned in with a conspiratorial look.

"Can you keep a secret, Bryant?"

I nodded yes.

"I drank the entire drink, and by the end, I was, well, my head was spinning. I think I did a pretty good job of pretending to be sober, but I wasn't. I returned to the suburban, crawled in, and fell asleep for three hours."

"Just from the one drink?"

"Well, I had a Xanax earlier, so that combo did not help."

I looked at her quizzically.

"It's a prescription for stress. It's allowed."

While Mormons don't use recreational drugs, many of the women I knew had prescriptions for anxiety. I felt guilty because my expression made her think I was judging her.

"Of all the drinks you could order, that's like a nuclear bomb."

"Do you drink, Bryant? You drink coffee; do you also drink at bars?"

I wasn't sure if this was a test. Was she doing some recon for The Bishop?

"Me? No, I don't drink alcohol."

That was a lie.

She looked at me and studied my face.

"You wouldn't lie to me, now, would you?"

"No, I don't; "

"Have you ever experienced something so intense, so incredible that you wonder how God would make it criminal to enjoy? Like wine, for instance. Jesus drank wine, why can't we?"

"The Catholics certainly do," I replied.

"Oh my God, even Catholics are having more fun than us," she bemoaned, "and they are always miserable."

"I don't usually question the doctrines of the faith," I replied.

I was attempting to evade the question. She was probing, and I wasn't sure what she was after.

"Of course not. Neither do I. So, we'll keep this story about the Long Island iced tea between us? I can trust you?"

"If you can keep my coffee addiction between us," I replied.

"Bryant, you can trust me to keep secrets. I'm a vault when it comes to this stuff. I know what it's like to have secrets, so anything you share with me. It's in the vault."

"Coffee in the vault. Got it."

"Can I try some?" she asked.

"Try what?"

"Your coffee."

"Are you sure? It's bitter. Kind of acquired taste. And I don't want to get you in trouble."

"I'm a big girl. Plus, I don't think my husband will cast me out into the wilderness for trying some coffee. He always encourages me to try new things."

I held out the cup, and she took it in hand, inhaling the rich scent.

"It smells so good. I sometimes wander into a Starbucks just to breathe the air. It almost makes me shiver with excitement. You don't think caffeine is airborne, do you?"

"No, I don't."

I was anxious to see her taste the coffee. There was something about witnessing a grown woman, a devoted believer, break her promise to her faith before me.

It was a far cry from any real sin; it was just a sip of coffee; but the fact that she was doing this before me held an unusual sensuality. I licked my lips as she brought the cup to her mouth.

She took a long sip, let it sit in her mouth, and then swallowed.

"Wow, that's not what I thought it would taste like. I was hoping for something like the Long Island iced tea."

"Well, if I had some Kahlua and vodka, I could make this more of a fun drink."

"Do you have any?" she asked.

"Uh, no. My dad didn't drink, so no."

"Too bad. I could like coffee if it had something fun in it."

Looking around the kitchen, she noticed the pile of mail.

"Oh, that reminds me. I had a package from Amazon sent here."

Oh shit! That was hers?

"I didn't see anything. Why would you send it here?"

"Well, nothing gets into our house without one of the kids opening it. They're just feminine products, so I sent them here. I don't need my kids looking through my tampons and breast pads."

I looked at her, confused. She could see I didn't understand.

"I'm still breastfeeding John-John. I know it's time to wean him, but I've been pregnant more than not pregnant this past 18 years, and so, well, I leak a lot."

"You leak a lot?"

I was still confused.

"My tits leak. Mostly if I don't express myself or feed John-John, it can be kind of embarrassing."

I realized I was getting the bio lesson in that I did not want to hear.

"I'm sorry, Bryant, I guess I just feel comfortable around you and start blabbering. You don't need a lecture on my bodily functions."

"No, that's fine. I'm glad you feel like that. I've always felt like you were someone I could talk to, so yeah, if you want to complain, I'm your guy."

Mrs. Barton looked at me with a smile.

"You're one of the good ones, Ethan. Never change. Well, I've got to get back to the house because I've been gone 20 minutes, and there is a good chance someone

Naked and Unafraid: Part 4

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Mon, 10 Aug 2026 18:37:00 +0000

Naked and Unafraid: Part 4.

Delaying Reality.

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

The afternoon wasn't nearly as idyllic as the morning. Dressed in the bare minimum (which is to say nothing for Brooke and Bridget and a pair of boxers for me to keep the junk contained), we did the least amount of work possible while staying in the shade. The crab traps were empty. The stream was running lower than usual, raising concerns about the implications of it running dry. We argued about whether to search the far side of the island again for footprints or conserve energy in the blazing heat. Bridget wanted to go. Brooke wanted to wait. The discussion between them grew heated and neither was interested in my attempts at mediation. When Brooke told me to "fuck off," she sounded a lot like her old self.

"If there are people, we need to know," Bridget said.

"And if there aren't?" Brooke asked.

"Then at least we looked."

Brooke spat in the sand. "Footprints don't mean shit. It's chasing ghosts. We need to start thinking that maybe rescue isn't coming." There were tears in her voice when she spoke aloud our biggest fear; that our time on this island might last forever and this paradise might turn into a purgatory. That looking for footprints was just another path to disappointment.

Brooke grabbed a water bottle and stalked toward the stream. Bridget went the opposite direction, toward the rocks. I stayed where I was, trying to decide what to do. After ten minutes, I opted for Bridget.

She was sitting by the crab inlet, throwing pebbles into a tide pool.

"You here to play peacemaker?" she asked.

"Something like that."

She threw another pebble. "I feel something for Brooke. Attraction; love; I dunno. But there's still something angry there too. And, as much as she has changed, that can't just wipe out our history. So it's easy for me to fall back into a confrontational stance with her."

"I know. But if we're going to live together, especially if it's for a long time, we're going to have to let go of the past."

"Easy for you to say. You got to fuck your long-time crush." The bitterness of the words was belied by a lightness of tone.

"So did you."

She smiled faintly, then it faded. "But what if she's right? What if no one is coming?"

I sat beside her. "We can't give up hope. But, at the same time, we have to embrace what we have here. This island; it's a small miracle. None of this would have been possible back in the 'real' world. If we had made it to New Zealand, we'd be back home by now. You and I would still be 'just friends' and Brooke would be somewhere else, probably permanently out of our lives."

She nodded. "Thinking about that scares me. And, as much as I want to be rescued and see my parents and go back to a place where the technology is more advanced than a penknife and a lighter, I don't want this; what we have between us; to end. And I know if someone finds us, it will. Our relationships won't survive a rescue."

I felt the same conflict because I knew she was right. Bridget and I might have a chance. But adding Brooke to the dynamic? Only here. Only on the island. And I didn't want to give up what we'd found with her so soon after discovering it.

Bridget got to her feet. "I need to find her."

"Kiss and make up."

She shoved my shoulder, then we went to find Brooke.

Brooke was at the stream, bare feet in the water, not crying anymore. She looked lost. I wondered if she had been thinking some of the same things that Bridget and I had been saying out loud.

Brooke spoke before we had a chance. "Sorry about that, Ben," she said, referencing the "fuck off." She continued, "I'm scared. But it's not about being here. Sure, I worry about what happens if one of us gets hurt or sick, but those things seem like normal worries. It's more that if we leave, everything we found here was a mirage. And that makes me almost not want to be rescued. I know that sounds selfish but I can't think about going back to my old life and not having you two be a part of it." So Bridget and I hadn't been the only ones thinking those thoughts. It was unanimous. What to do about it, though?

Bridget sat beside Brooke and dipped her feet into the stream. I sat on Brooke's other side. Bridget appeared ready to say something, then changed her mind. Instead, she cupped Brooke's face and kissed her. Brooke didn't hesitate to return the embrace, arms snaking around Bridget's neck, tits rubbing against each other. I watched them for a second before joining, leaning in to kiss the side of Brooke's neck while my hand reached out to cup her tit. She let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a purr.

Bridget pushed Brooke onto her back on the edge of the stream. She immediately went down on her, kneeling in the water to get the right angle. Things moved fast from that point. Brooke's back arched as she came, having apparently been on a hair trigger. I knelt beside them, shucked my boxers, and slid my hardening cock into Brooke's open mouth. She sucked me without finesse as Bridget returned to dry ground and sat on her haunches, her face shiny with Brooke's juices.

I watched Bridget crouching there nude, thinking that I would never get tired of looking at her. She caught my eye as Brooke went down on me and started stroking herself unhurriedly, waiting for her turn. After a while, concerned that I might blow my load and not wanting to disappoint Bridget, I pulled out with an audible pop. My cock jutted awkwardly in front of me, red, throbbing, and coated with Brooke's saliva. I turned my attention to Bridget. She was on me like a wildcat, pushing me to the ground so she could hop on the "Ben ride." When she sank down on my cock, there was so much lubrication that there was nothing to stop her from bottoming out. She was in control and wasn't shy about letting me know it. I felt almost like a flesh-and-blood dildo; not that I was complaining. This kind of unbridled sex was something we probably all needed. There was a time for tenderness, but this wasn't it. This was about passion and athleticism. This was about catharsis.

Both Bridget and I were panting now, our sex turning into a workout as we drove each other toward our inevitable orgasms. I was dimly aware of Brooke watching us, sated but still interested. She wasn't playing with herself; her hands were at her sides. Her expression was somewhere in between awe and affection. As I felt Bridget's pussy beginning to clench, my tenuous grip on control started to break down. Bridget hadn't even finished coming when I pushed her off; just in time. Not a second after it emerged from Bridget's pussy, my cock shot thick spurts across her chest.

As we stayed there in the shallow water, tangled up and breathing hard, Brooke came to join us, hugging us both. The stream kept flowing around us, its caress gentle and soothing, sluicing away dirt and sex residue. We kissed whatever skin was closest; shoulders, necks, collarbones. No one said anything for a long time.

Eventually Bridget whispered against my chest, "Whatever happens, we're okay."

Brooke nodded, forehead pressed to mine. "Yeah, we're okay."

I held them both tighter.

The next day, we searched the far beach. We found no new footprints. There was no evidence of a camp or survivors. But we found something else, something we had inexplicably missed before: a large sealed emergency container wedged between rocks below the reef among a cache of plane debris. It was bright orange, scraped and a little battered but still intact. It took all three of us and more profanity than was strictly necessary to drag it free before the tide came in.

The contents caused my heart to skip a beat. Inside that three-foot-by-three foot compartment was an instruction sheet, a compact emergency tarp, six flares, two ration packs, a flashlight, water purification tablets, a whistle, first-aid supplies, thermal blankets, fishing line and hooks, and a small emergency radio with a cracked casing but intact antenna.

Brooke and Bridget looked stunned while I gingerly examined the radio. We decided not to fiddle with it until we got back to camp. We made the return trip in record time, even dragging the heavy container with us.

"Do you think it works?" Brooke asked as we settled under the shelter.

It didn't look promising, at least not at first. The battery compartment had taken some water and the contacts were crusted. Bridget grabbed a tee shirt and used it to cleaned them. I opened the casing with the penknife and fiddled with wires I did not fully understand. Then all at once, miraculously, we heard the crackle of static.

Brooke whispered, "Oh my God."

Bridget grabbed the instruction sheet, scanning for useful information. When she found the emergency frequency, we dialed it in. Nothing but static. So we tried again. More static. Then, faintly, there came something garbled and indistinct that sounded vaguely like a human voice. Any words were unintelligible but there definitely seemed to be someone there.

Bridget took the radio from me with shaking hands. "Mayday," she said, speaking into the handset. Then she stopped and looked at me. "Do we say mayday?"

I shrugged. "Probably." I didn't think the actual words mattered.

"Mayday, mayday, mayday. We're the;" She looked at me.

"Survivors of Flight;" I stopped. "Do we know the number?"

Brooke did: 557.

Bridget repeated it into the radio, then added, "We are three survivors on an island. We have water. We have injuries but we're alive. If anyone can hear us;"

Static. She tried again and again with nothing to show for it. Whoever had been out there for that brief moment was no longer there or wasn't listening. But, despite the failure of the moment, everything was now different. Rescue was once again a real possibility. Yet beneath the renewed hope and relief was an emotion none of us would have imagined as recently as several days ago: regret. Because suddenly the potential of being saved wasn't the greatest thing that could happen.

The radio sat by the fire that night. We left it on, allowing the static to blend with the island's more familiar night sounds. There was no way we were going to turn it off.

"What happens if they come?" I started when I realized I had spoken the thought aloud. But I knew we were all thinking the same thing.

Bridget glanced over at the radio. "We go home," she said. But there was a note of resignation in the words.

Brooke hugged her knees. "And then?"

No one answered until I spoke the inevitable: "I don't want to lose this, and we don't know if this; us; will work off the island."

Brooke's voice was quiet. "Do you want to try?"

"I do," I said.

Brooke's eyes shifted to Bridget, who already had an answer ready.

"I want to want to," she said.

Brooke looked away.

"No. Listen. I do want it. I'm just scared that wanting isn't enough. But I want to try."

At some point, I dozed off. One moment, I was lying on my side, gazing into the fire. The next, I realized something was happening just off to the side, toward the other side of our not-so-palatial shelter. It was Bridget and Brooke, making out like teenagers. Bridget was the first to notice I was back with them.

She used a stage whisper to tell Brooke, "I think we have an audience." Then with a laugh, she turned to me. "Feel free to jerk off."

I just nodded. I was hard just at the thought of what I was about to witness. I slipped off my boxers, the only item of clothing I was wearing and started to stroke even before they were doing much of anything. Watching them kiss, lips touching and tongues dancing, was enough to start my engine.

At the start, there was a performative element to what they were doing, but they quickly forgot about any exhibitionist tendencies as things became more intense. Their tits brushed against one another, nipples tickling nipples into hardness. The kissing continued for a long time, spit swapping and breathing becoming deeper. In its own way, this was more arousing than it had been to actually experience sex with them. The act of watching gave me a deeper understanding of how they felt about one another and how things had evolved, especially for Bridget.

They paused for the briefest of moments to remove their minimal remaining clothing. Then Brooke laid Bridget down and kissed her way down her lover's body. Bridget lay back and allowed herself to receive, extending her arms above her head like a cat stretching. Brooke was in no hurry, investing time on Bridget's nipples, sucking and teasing, saliva moistening them. I'm pretty sure; at least based on her breathing and the jerking of her pelvis; that Bridget had a small orgasm during this treatment. Then Brooke continued her journey downward, first to Bridget's belly button, which earned a chuckle, then between her legs. I could hear how wet Bridget was as Brooke's fingers joined her tongue lavishing attention on Bridget's pussy. Brooke maintained a leisurely pace; a lone finger fucking her slowly while her mouth played a staccato rhythm on her clit. Bridget's second orgasm wasn't nearly as restrained as her first one; she came violently, her body seizing as she shouted Brooke's name. Bridget's climax triggered my own and a warm stream of cum dribbled out of my cock to coat my left hand.

After taking a moment to recover, Bridget set about returning the favor, but her style as a giver was much different than it had been as a receiver. Brooke seemed to enjoy being dominated and that's how Bridget approached her. Instead of loving attention to her nipples or playful nips on her belly button, Bridget went straight for Brooke's pussy and almost attacked it, using three fingers and slurping up the juices that leaked out. Brooke played with her own tits as she moaned louder and louder. It didn't take long; Brooke had aroused herself giving Bridget her orgasm. She climaxed with a cry that sounded halfway between a sob and a laugh, and bucked so hard that Bridget lifted her face to avoid damage to her teeth.

When they were finally done, both flushed and sweaty, they turned their heads in my direction. Bridget finally voiced the question. "Well?"

"That was so hot," I said. Not exactly poetic but I was having trouble finding words. "Much as I like fucking you two, that was next level."

They moved apart to make room between them and I took them up on the offer. This wasn't for sex. I knew that immediately. This was for intimacy. They curled into me immediately ; Bridget on my left, Brooke on my right. They were still breathing hard and the smell of their bodies mixed with the salt tang of the sea air. The fire burned low outside and the low hum of static continued from the radio against the backdrop of waves breaking against the shore and animals calling out in the jungle.

The next day dawned like any other. After doing our usual morning chores, I tinkered with the radio and played with the frequencies. Nothing.

"Is it working?" asked Bridget.

"I think so. It's got power. I guess no one is listening."

Around mid-afternoon, that was no longer the case. The words, when they broke through the static, were faint and fractured, but discernible: "survivors; repeat; location;"

As Bridget grabbed the radio, I snatched up the flares and we ran for the ridge, climbing as fast as we could, heedless of the danger we put ourselves in by tossing away caution. I was in the lead with Brooke behind me and Bridget bringing up the rear, the radio hissing and spitting in her hands.

As soon as we reached the top, Bridget pressed the button. "This is Flight 557. We're three survivors marooned on an island. We don't know the coordinates. We have flares. We are alive."

A minute passed. Then two. There was nothing but static. It felt like a lifetime. Had we been heard?

We had. "Signal received; continue transmissions; search aircraft;"

I lit the signal fire with shaking hands. Brooke stood with a flare ready to set off as soon as we saw something, anything. Bridget kept transmitting the same message over and over until her voice went hoarse: "This is Flight 557. We're three survivors marooned on an island. We are alive."

A plane came just before sunset; small and white, almost looking like a bird at first. It appeared from the north, heading straight toward us. Brooke fired the flare. The red streak of light shot into the sky, bright against the approaching twilight.

The plane banked, circled twice, and rocked its wings. They had seen us. Rescue, long a dubious hope, had become a reality.

Brooke dropped to her knees, laughing and crying. Bridget was more restrained but the tears in her eyes overflowed. I knew my own cheeks were wet. I grabbed both of them and held them close while the plane circled overhead and the pilot's voice crackled through the radio, telling us a rescue boat would come with daylight.

One more night. That was all we had on the island before the world came back for us.

The three of us stood on the ridge until the plane disappeared into the west and the sun slipped below the horizon. No one spoke on the walk down. Below, the shelter waited. A month earlier it had been a pile of palm fronds and driftwood. Somehow, it had become home. Now everything we had built suddenly looked temporary, which hurt more than I expected.

We should have been celebrating, but we weren't. We had wanted rescue, but we hadn't. All three of us were conflicted, haunted by the same fears and doubts. That night, we sat close around the fire, knees touching, hands linked, watching sparks rise. Was this really it?

Tomorrow, we would be survivors. We would be news, the kind that ends newscasts on a "happy note." Families would be told and many tears of joy would be shed. Doctors would check us. Officials would ask questions. Reporters would want interviews.

Tonight, we had one last opportunity. Not for sex, but to be close in a way that would never happen again. We had promised, but our relationship was still so new, so fragile that I doubted it would survive the rescue and all that came after. I found myself mourning the "us" that could have been.

Brooke rested her head on Bridget's shoulder. Bridget leaned into her. I held both their hands, preparing myself to welcome tomorrow. And dreading it at the same time.

Delaying Reality.

The morning the rescue came, Brooke was the first one awake. I knew because when I opened my eyes, she wasn't beside us. The surge of panic caused me to bolt upright so fast that I cracked my head on the low shelter support.

"Shit."

That woke up Bridget. "What?" she murmured, opening her eyes in the pale morning light.

"Nothing," I said, holding my head, which was bleeding from a gash. "Brooke isn't here."

"Brooke?" Bridget called, but there was no answer.

We headed out, scared for Brooke. Fortunately, she wasn't hard to find. She stood at the waterline, wearing Madison's shorts and a faded shirt we had scavenged from another suitcase. Her blonde hair was tied back with one of Bridget's bands. She was barefoot, arms wrapped around herself, watching the horizon. The fact that she was wearing clothes was a cue that she had already begun shifting her mindset.

Bridget slowed when she saw her.

"Is she okay?" I asked.

"No," Bridget said.

We walked down together. Brooke didn't turn until we were close, but she knew we were there.

"I couldn't sleep," she said. Her voice was calm. "I dreamed about my mom. She was in the kitchen, making coffee like normal. And I walked in, and she looked up and said, 'There you are.' Just like I'd been upstairs too long."

Her voice broke on the last word. Bridget took her hand and Brooke held on hard.

"I want to see her," Brooke said.

"Of course you do," I said.

"I want a shower."

"I can safely say we all want that.

Naked and Unafraid: Part 3

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Sun, 09 Aug 2026 18:36:00 +0000

Naked and Unafraid: Part 3.

Smoke on the Ridge.

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

Smoke on the Ridge

On the seventh day, we explored inland.

Bridget had been pushing for it since day three. "We don't know how big this place is," she said, crouched by the fire and sharpening a stick with her penknife. "We don't know if there's better shelter. More food. Higher ground for a signal fire."

Brooke sat across from her, braiding long strands of dried grass. "We also don't know if there are cliffs, snakes, pits, poisonous plants, angry birds;"

"Angry birds?" I said.

She pointed at me. "Don't start."

In the end, we compromised. We would go inland after breakfast, stay together, leave markers, and return to the beach well before dark. Bridget used strips of blue fabric from Madison's suitcase and tied them to branches as we went. Brooke carried water in a small, undamaged jug we had scavenged. The forest was thicker than it looked from the beach. Vines caught at our ankles. Leaves slapped our faces. Insects saw us as breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The air smelled like the mulch my next door neighbors put around their bushes every April.

After about an hour, we found the ridge. It rose behind the trees, not too steep at first, then sharply near the top. Rock pushed through the soil in places. Roots made natural handholds. From below it looked climbable, especially for an expert like Bridget. Perhaps not so much for me and Brooke.

"No," Brooke said.

Bridget looked at her. "You don't even know what I'm going to say."

"You're going to say we should climb up that very steep, very scary cliff."

"Oh, come on. It's not a cliff. It's a hill. And we need that kind of height to get a perspective of the whole island."

Brooke looked up the ridge. "Your wrist is still swollen. If you slip;"

"I can do it."

"It's a risk. We can't afford to take risks. If one us gets seriously hurt, that's really, really bad."

I voiced my approval of Brooke's concern. Bridget might have been an expert climber but she was not 100% and that ridge looked daunting. Still, she made a valid point about our needing a better perspective of where we were.

I watched Bridget wrestle with the options. "We go partway and make a decision then," she decided. "We go carefully. If it gets bad, we stop."

Brooke sighed. "I hate reasonable compromises."

We climbed. Our progress was slow, painful, and undignified. Bridget led because she knew rocks and how to ascend them. Brooke followed. I came last, partly to catch anyone if they slipped and partly because if someone was going to fall, it was probably me.

Halfway up, Brooke's foot slipped on loose dirt. She gasped and grabbed for a root. Bridget turned instantly, catching her wrist with her good hand.

"Got you," Bridget said.

Brooke regained her footing and let out a deep breath. "I'm okay," she said.

We kept climbing. Finally, at the top, the island opened below us. It was about the size I expected based on our ground observations; maybe a few miles long, curved like a comma, with our beach on one side and nasty, jagged rocks on the other. The forest covered most of the interior. Beyond our little oasis of land was the vast ocean; a seemingly endless span of blue that was equal parts beautiful and terrifying. There were no boats or other islands that we could see. There was no plane wreckage except a faint scatter far along the reef to the west. It was confirmation of what we had sensed all along: we were alone.

"At least we know," I said.

"Yes. But let's not dwell on the negatives. We have water, food, and shelter. And it's way too early to give up on a rescue. We can make a better signal fire up here than down on the beach," said Bridget. The words were upbeat but the tone wasn't. She sounded like she was about to cry.

"So what now?" asked Brooke.

Bridget didn't have an answer. She stood there for a quiet moment then turned and walked over to the edge, where she stopped and stared out to the sea. We waited for at least five or ten minutes for her to come back but she just stood there, her back to us. I noticed then that her shoulders had started to shake.

"Come with me," I said to Brooke and we walked over to Bridget together.

She didn't turn when she heard our approach. "I'm fine," she lied.

Brooke gave a little snort. "You are not, and that's okay."

"I'm supposed to know what to do," Bridget said, despair in her voice. She turned to look at me, her cheeks wet and a haunted expression in her eyes.

"No," I said firmly, "There are three of us here. No leaders or followers."

I put my arm around her first, then Brooke joined us. The three of us stood at the top of the ridge, holding each other. Bridget cried against my shoulder. Brooke pressed her face into Bridget's hair.

After that, the ridge became our "call for rescue" platform. We built a signal pile there over the next few days, carrying dry wood up in little bundles and arranging things so a bonfire could be ignited in short order. We arranged green leaves nearby to make smoke if we ever saw a plane. Brooke suggested spelling SOS on the ridge with pale stones.

Survival changed our bodies. We got thinner and stronger. Scratches blossomed everywhere. The sun bronzed our skin unevenly and my new beard was so scratchy that I longed for a razor. Bridget's shoulders got leaner and Brooke's hands grew callused from carrying wood and prying shellfish.

It changed how we saw each other too.

The thing between Bridget and Brooke grew more visible first, maybe because it had been buried under hatred for so long that once it emerged, the affection was so unexpected. It started with small touches; a hand on the back while climbing, fingers brushing when passing the knife, Brooke tucking a wet strand of hair behind Bridget's ear because Bridget's hands were full of crab traps; but each contact was like a step on a path to greater intimacy.

That night they sat side by side again, not quite touching. I watched but didn't quite know how to feel about it. I pretended to adjust the firewood and tried not to stare. Meanwhile, Brooke and I had our own road to travel.

One afternoon, Bridget went inland to check the vine markers and I stayed with Brooke on the beach to repair the crab traps, which needed constant attention. It was an especially hot and humid day and the sun was high in sky of unbroken blue. We sat inside the ever-evolving shelter, legs stretched out on the sand, braiding vines into rope.

Brooke was having trouble and after about the fourth failed try, she made an annoyed noise and handed me the vines, but instead of letting go right away, she kept her fingers around them. Our hands touched. The moment was electric, at least for me. I can't say why, though; why this moment was suddenly different; but it was. I could tell she knew it too.

"You okay?" I asked.

She smiled faintly. "You ask that a lot."

"Yeah, I know. But given our history;"

She lowered her eyes. "Sometimes I'm not sure how to act around you."

"That makes two of us."

"No, I mean;" She pulled the vines from my fingers and set them aside. "I know how I used to be. With boys. With everyone, kind of. I knew how to be wanted, how to make people want me. I was good at that. I used that; skill; on you. I knew what I was doing." She paused, but I didn't interrupt. Then she plowed ahead. "I don't want to do that with you anymore, but I still want you to want me. Only for a different reason."

"It's not like it was. You're not the hot girl from high school finally noticing me. Yeah, I'm still insanely attracted to you but now I see you as a person. You're beautiful; I'd have to be dead not to notice; but it's so different with all the meanness gone."

She laughed softly, wiping one eye with the heel of her hand, then leaned closer. "Can I kiss you?" she asked.

I was stunned by the request. I wanted to. God, I wanted to, but just as I was about to lean in, I thought of Bridget. Brooke sensed my hesitation.

"We don't have to."

"I want to."

"But?"

"But I don't want to hurt Bridget."

Brooke sat back a little. "Neither do I," she said.

When Bridget came back, sweaty and scratched and carrying three fruits she thought might be worth testing for toxicity, Brooke and I were sitting six inches apart but not touching.

Bridget looked between us. "Did I miss something?" I couldn't decide if she was annoyed or amused.

I said, "Almost. Brooke asked if she could kiss me. But we didn't."

Bridget's expression was inscrutable. "Did you want to?" she finally asked me.

"What do you think?" I couldn't believe she had asked.

She looked at Brooke. "Why? Why did you want to kiss him? Why now?"

"Because he sees me for who I am now, and that gives me a feeling I've never felt before with any guy."

Bridget set the fruit down and pressed both hands to her face. "I don't want this to become about Ben in the middle," she said. "And I don't want to compete with you."

"You'd win," Brooke said.

Smiling sadly, Bridget started to shake her head.

Brooke interrupted. "You would. If this were a contest, you'd win. Because he loves you as much as you love him."

Both women looked at me. In high school, Brooke had been my white whale, but Bridget had always been there, our closeness masking deeper feelings. Once I recognized the truth, I had to admit it. "Yes," I said.

Bridget blinked her eyes in disbelief. Hope and fear chased each other across her face. "Yes what?" she whispered.

"Yes, I love you."

Bridget stared for a moment then tears started to pool in her eyes. It took a lot to make her cry and she hated to do it in front of other people, but she was doing it now, showing vulnerability not only to me but to Brooke. "Oh, you jerk," she said. "You absolute jerk."

She crossed the space between us and hit my chest with both hands. Not hard. Then she grabbed my shirt and pulled herself into me. I held her.

For a second, Brooke stood apart, her face a mask of indecision, as if proud that her words had instigated this but sad that she had put herself on the outside, looking in. She turned to leave, to give us some space. But Bridget wouldn't allow it.

"Don't go," she said to Brooke. "Like it or not, you're part of this too." Bridget reached for her, and she came.

It was awkward. All three of us trying to figure out arms and balance and how a three-way hug was supposed to work. I felt Brooke's hand press against my back, hesitant at first. Then firmer. And Bridget was warm against my body, feeling oh-so-right. We did nothing sexual or even really romantic, but that moment proved to be a major turning point in how we related to one another. It leached away the last vestiges of jealousy and replaced them with something warmer.

That afternoon, Bridget asked Brooke to walk with her to the stream. I stayed by the fire and did all the useful things that needed to be done: added another layer of fronds to the shelter's roof, sorted through our wood stock, built up the fire, and made a crab stew for dinner.

They were gone long enough that I was starting to get worried. When they came back, the change in the dynamic between them was obvious. It went way beyond a mere thaw. After eating, we sat around the fire but, instead of me being between them, they now sat close together, almost like lovers.

Later, when Brooke took the crab shells far from camp to dissuade any scavengers, Bridget sat next to me. I waited patiently for her to talk because I sensed there was something she wanted to say. Needed to say, even.

"I kissed her," she said finally. After a pause, she added. "On the lips."

"How did it feel?" I asked, keeping my tone neutral. I knew this was a big deal for her and I didn't want to make it about me or my confused feelings.

"Good," she said. "Terrifying. But good."

"I'm glad," I said.

Bridget studied me. "Do you mean that?"

"Yeah." Did I mean it? Yes, but that was only half the story, because I wanted to kiss Brooke too. And Bridget. So I was happy for her but maybe feeling a little left out.

She leaned her head against my shoulder. For a while we watched Brooke by the waterline, washing the plate in the last light. She moved differently now, no longer a diva or would-be Instagram model. She was just a survivor like us, with needs and wants that had been re-calibrated by our shared nightmare.

"She started by kissing me," Bridget admitted. "But I didn't mind, and that surprised me. So I kissed her back."

After that, more barriers were lowered. Touching became more purposeful and sometimes teasing. At night, we slept closer. The first time Brooke curled against my side, she asked with her eyes more than words. I nodded. Bridget was already tucked against my other shoulder, watching.

"Okay?" Brooke whispered to her.

Bridget nodded. Then, after a pause, Bridget reached over me and touched Brooke's hand. Brooke closed her eyes.

On day ten, rain trapped us inside the shelter for almost the entire day. It was much better than our first shelter, but still no better than serviceable. Given time, I was certain we could improve it. It had a sloped roof of palm fronds, the airplane-bin panel on one side, and a raised floor of branches and leaves that reduced our contact with mud.

Rain hammered the roof. Water dripped in three places. The fire was covered but low, sending smoke sideways into our faces whenever the wind shifted. We sat knee to knee inside, damp and bored.

Brooke started humming first.

Bridget looked at her. "What is that?"

"A song."

"I know what humming is."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Because it's terrible."

Brooke gasped. "It's Fleetwood Mac."

Bridget said, "Whatever you think it is, it most definitely is not Fleetwood Mac."

Brooke started singing louder, badly on purpose. I joined because I happened to love Rumours. We sang until we forgot everything for a little while. Then, almost on cue with the song's lyric, thunder exploded overhead and Brooke jumped so hard she grabbed my arm.

The old Brooke would have laughed it off. This Brooke whispered, "I hate storms now."

Bridget moved closer immediately. "Me too."

The rain got harder, its intensity pressing us together; all of us damp and warm. Brooke leaned into me, her forehead against my neck. Bridget rested against my other side, her arm crossing in front of me so her hand could stay on Brooke's. It wasn't sexual at first, then it was.

Brooke lifted her head. This time she didn't ask; she knew I wouldn't refuse. And when she kissed me for the first time, Bridget was there. Surprisingly, Brooke's mouth was unsure at first. I had imagined Brooke would kiss like she had done everything in high school, with unselfconscious confidence. But she kissed like someone who was doing it for the first time. I kissed her back, slowly. I knew how to kiss; college had imparted some experience in that department, and I eventually took the lead. That's when I understood; Brooke knew how to kiss for show but not when it meant something.

When we parted, Brooke looked at Bridget immediately. Bridget was breathing shallowly, her eyes fixed on Brooke's mouth. Something wordless passed between them and they shifted positions to come together. Their kiss was different from the one Brooke and I had shared; more fragile and charged, but with a newfound familiarity.

And then, of course, the moment arrived. After she disengaged from Brooke, Bridget wrapped her arms around my shoulders and kissed me like she was angry at all the years we lost. At some point Bridget pulled back, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, eyes shining.

"I'm overwhelmed," I said, and I think everyone agreed.

That night, after the rain, the air had that freshly-scrubbed smell, seasoned with a tang of salt. We sat by the revived fire, quiet in the way people are after something big has happened.

That's when Brooke suggested a further dismantling of increasingly unstable barriers. "I think we should all get naked." She kept talking, increasingly animated as she warmed to the subject. "We've been here long enough. These damn clothes are always damp and dirty. As for our bodies; Ben, you've seen me. You've seen Bridget. Bridget and I have seen plenty of each other. What's missing from the equation here? I want to see your cock. I'm not saying we have to do anything. Just look."

Bridget blinked. "Sounds fine to me. Anything to stop wearing a top."

"I'm in," I said. I didn't need Brooke's arguments to get to that point.

Bridget shot me a look. "Finally."

Brooke stood up first. It was clear she intended to push this forward, and she knew we would follow. How could we not? She pulled off her shirt without much ceremony. Her tits came free, nipples already hard from the night air. She pushed her shorts and underwear down and just stood there, bare, waiting.

Bridget went more slowly, taking her time removing her tank top, then her shorts, and finally her underwear. I marveled again at her nude form, which almost looked sculpted in its athletic perfection. She threw her arms wide, flashed a smile, then trilled, "Ta-da!"

Then it was my turn. There were no nerves. Even though it was technically true that I had never been fully naked in front of them, they had glimpsed plenty. With a shrug, I stood, yanked my shirt off, dropped my shorts, then pushed my boxers down. My cock was already half-hard and getting harder fast. It was a natural reaction to the circumstances with no way to hide it. I just stood there and let them look.

Brooke whistled. "Damn." Bridget was quick to echo the sentiment.

Meanwhile, I couldn't stop staring at them. My eyes drank in all the details, re-inventorying what I had glimpsed at the pool. Bridget sat down cross-legged, totally relaxed. Brooke joined her, knees up but not covering anything. I occupied the space they left between them. Brooke reached over and put her hand on my thigh while Bridget mirrored her on the other side. My cock was fully hard now, standing up, and they were both looking at it.

Brooke's thumb rubbed once on my leg, then stopped. I don't know if she noticed the drop of precum that appeared. I certainly did. "We don't have to go further than this. Not tonight," she said. The promise of "Not tonight" arrested my attention.

Bridget's hand stayed where it was. She looked at me, then at Brooke. "I know where this is going, and I'm okay with that. But I think this is enough for right now."

I nodded. My cock, however, violently disagreed. But it didn't get a vote; at least not yet.

For the first time, we lay together naked for the night. After both of them had dozed off, arousal kept sleep at bay for me. I crept a short distance away from the fire and wrapped my hand around my still-hard cock. It didn't take long; maybe five or six strokes; to find the relief I needed. Then I returned to the shelter to find Brooke's eyes open. She smiled and gave me a wink.

The next morning while on an exploratory walk, we found footprints. They were near the far end of the beach, a few miles beyond our camp, next to the black rocks where the tide left a long stretch of wet sand. Bridget saw them first and dropped the bundle of wood she was carrying.

"Ben!" I followed her gaze: bare footprints. A line of them, leading toward the rocks, half-erased by water.

Brooke came up behind us. "Oh my God."

We followed the tracks along the sand until they ended at the rocks. I

Naked and Unafraid: Part 2

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Sat, 08 Aug 2026 18:35:00 +0000

Naked and Unafraid: Part 2.

No More Walking Away.

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

The night came back to me later in pieces: lightning in the far distance, Bridget and me taking turns keeping Brooke awake and afloat, my legs kicking until they cramped, the smell of jet fuel on the water, my teeth chattering. Once, when I thought I saw lights in the distance, I shouted until my throat was raw. No one came. Not even the Grim Reaper.

Eventually, the sky started to brighten with the arrival of what sailors called the "nautical dawn." The ocean, calmer now that the storm had passed, stretched gray and flat around us. Wreckage floated here and there: a seat cushion, a suitcase, and various bits and pieces of the plane that never made it to New Zealand.

Bridget saw it at the same time that I did. We didn't recognize the "who" but the "what" was unmistakable. "Oh my God," she whispered.

"What is it?" asked Brooke, sounding a little dazed.

"Don't look," Bridget said.

"I can't not look."

"Then look at me."

Brooke did.

The current carried us toward some dark smudge on the horizon. At first I thought it was a cloud bank, but as the sun climbed a little higher, I recognized what it was: land.

I pointed it out to my companions. Bridget briefly closed her eyes as if a silent prayer had been answered. Brooke made a sound that was almost a sob.

It still looked far away, impossibly far. From here, I couldn't tell if it was an island or the edge of something larger. There were cliffs on one side and trees across most of the rest with a pale line that could have been beach. None of us knew where we were anymore. The flight path, the storm, the impact, the current; all of it had turned our precise location into a guess.

"We swim," Bridget said.

I stared at her. "We what?"

"We use this." She slapped the wing panel we were clinging to. "Kick with it. Current's already taking us that way."

Brooke shook her head. "I can't."

Despite her weariness, Bridget's voice was gentle and empathetic. "Brooke. You don't have to do it well. You just have to not stop. If we can get there, we have a chance at surviving this."

Brooke looked at her, colorless lips trembling, then she nodded.

So we kicked. We struggled and coughed and cursed, fighting the ocean for our lives. We swallowed seawater. The sun, high and bright in a stunningly blue sky, beat down on us. We lost ground and gained it. The island seemed to move away whenever I looked at it, so I stopped looking. But the current remained in our favor so I knew it was just a matter of time, if we could hold on.

Bridget kept one hand on the panel and one hand sometimes on Brooke's wrist. I stayed on the other side, trying to steer when waves turned us sideways. My shoulder hurt so badly I thought I might vomit. Not a good idea, considering how dehydrated I was.

At some point the water changed. The swells became rougher but shallower. Waves began to lift and push instead of simply rise under us. We could see the beach now, almost close enough to touch: white sand and black rocks with palm trees leaning over the shore.

A wave took us and hurled us forward. The panel split the water like a surfboard before slamming into sand. My knees hit bottom. Then another wave crashed over us and took me under. I came up choking, hands clawing at wet sand. I crawled away from the water because I lacked the strength and balance to stand. Bridget was on her knees a few feet away, coughing, hair plastered to her face. Brooke lay half in the water, eyes closed, waves washing around her waist.

"Brooke!" Bridget shouted. She scrambled back down and grabbed Brooke under the arms.

I tried to stand, failed, then crawled to help. Together we dragged Brooke beyond the reach of the surf. She coughed suddenly, turning onto her side and vomiting seawater into the sand.

Bridget collapsed beside her. I fell onto my back. For a long time, none of us spoke. We just breathed and savored the reality of still being alive.

Eventually Bridget sat up. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked at me. Her face was scratched. Her lower lip was split. One sleeve of her flannel was torn almost completely off.

"Ben," she said, then crawled to me and touched my cheeks, my chest, my shoulder, almost as if she was trying to convince herself that I was real. "You're bleeding."

"So are you."

"Your head."

"Is it bad?"

She examined it with shaking fingers. "I don't think so. Scalp cuts bleed a lot."

Brooke pushed herself upright slowly. She looked wrecked: pale, shaking, hair tangled with salt, one cheek bruised. Her beautiful white top was torn at the hem and stained with fuel, sand, and blood. Her shoes were missing.

She looked at us, then out at the ocean.

"Are we the only ones?" she asked.

"We don't know," Bridget said. "We survived. Other people could have too. There could be another beach. Another part of the island. Rafts. Debris. We don't know."

She wasn't actually lying but none of us, Bridget included, really believed that.

I sat up, too fast, and everything spun, black spots dancing across my vision. Bridget reached for me.

"Easy."

"I'm fine."

"Your skin is gray."

"I've always been pale."

We took inventory because Bridget made us.

Injuries first. My shoulder was bruised and strained, maybe sprained, but not dislocated. My head had a shallow cut above the temple. My ribs hurt, but I could breathe, so they probably weren't broken. Bridget had cuts on her arms and legs, a twisted wrist, and bruises blooming along one side. Brooke had a deep scrape on her thigh, bruised ribs, and raw marks around the wrist where she had been trapped. No broken bones that we could tell. No one was bleeding badly. Under the circumstances, "lucky" didn't seem like the right word but it probably applied.

Next, what we had. My phone was gone, as was Brooke's. Bridget had hers, dead and cracked, nestled in the soaked pocket of her leggings. Bridget's backpack had made it; sort of. She had somehow kept one arm through the strap during the crash and held onto it despite the ocean's best attempts to rip it away. The thoroughly soaked contents included two protein bars protected by their sealed foil wrapping, a metal water bottle, a compact first-aid kit, a lighter sealed in a tiny plastic bag, a nail file, three hair ties, sunscreen, and a ruined paperback beach book.

Brooke stared at the backpack. "You brought a first-aid kit?"

Bridget shrugged. "It's just Band-Aids and stuff."

"You brought a lighter? You don't smoke."

"Never know when you might need it."

Bridget insisted we move away from the waterline after that, in case the tide came in.

The beach curved in a crescent between black rocks at one end and a thick wall of green at the other. The trees were dense but not impenetrable. They were mostly palms, broad leaves, vines; the kinds of vegetation one expected to find in the tropics. Birds could occasionally be seen through the canopy. Somewhere inland, there was the sound of babbling water. Fresh water, which mattered more than anything. We all heard it at the same time.

Bridget closed her eyes. "Thank God."

We didn't go straight in. Bridget said we needed markers to make sure we never lost the beach, and we had to stay visible in case rescue came, because we needed to believe rescue would come. It was the only hope we had. Planes had black boxes, didn't they? Pilots called for help. Searchers followed transponders, wreckage, and currents. I didn't really know how any of it worked, but I needed to believe there was some invisible machinery already grinding toward us.

We used driftwood to make a huge SOS in the sand above the tide line. It took longer than it should have because we were weak and dizzy. When we were done, we retreated to the shade near the trees to get out of the sun. Bridget cleaned our cuts with water from her bottle, then made us save the rest until we found the stream.

Brooke was sitting with one leg stretched out while Bridget knelt beside her, focused on the wound. Her hands were gentle, even when her face was stern. Brooke watched her and I watched Brooke watching her.

When Bridget finished, Brooke touched her wrist lightly. "Thank you."

Bridget looked at the hand on her wrist then at Brooke. "You're welcome." There was unexpected warmth in those words.

Then Bridget started crying. She turned away immediately, like she didn't want us to see.

"Bridget," I said.

"I'm fine."

Brooke reached for her, then stopped herself. I moved instead, because I knew she would let me. I put an arm around her and she collapsed against me, the dam breaking. I held her with my good arm and pressed my cheek to her damp hair.

Brooke sat beside us, alone. I looked at her over Bridget's shoulder. She looked exhausted, but as she watched Bridget, her eyes hardened with something that looked a lot like jealousy. Without thinking, I reached my free hand toward her. She took it with cold fingers and leaned into me, her own tears now flowing freely.

The three of us sat like that until the crying passed. Then, by late afternoon, we found the stream.

It ran down from rocks behind the trees, clear and cold, spilling into a shallow pool before disappearing under roots as it flowed toward the sea. We drank too fast, desperate to replace all the fluids we had lost in the past twenty-four hours. There were small crabs near the rocks on the beach and clams in the tide pools. Coconuts hung high in a few trees, although I didn't see any on the ground.

So we had food, water, and Bridget's lighter. And we could probably cobble together something resembling a shelter. But, as far as we could tell, there were no other people. No other crash survivors and no one who lived on the island.

As the sun lowered, we returned to the beach and stared at the ocean. It wasn't promising: no planes, no boats, no smoke. Be patient, I told myself, rescue would take time. Days, maybe even weeks. Definitely not hours.

We gathered wood for a fire. Bridget's lighter worked on the fourth try, after briefly scaring us that the plastic bag hadn't provided adequate protection. When the flame finally caught, we breathed a collective sigh of relief. The fire grew slowly, orange licking at dry palm scraps, then catching thicker sticks. Smoke rose into the evening air.

We sat close to it as darkness came. Not because the air was cold but because the light provided comfort and refuge.

Brooke hugged her knees. Bridget sat cross-legged and I lounged with my back against a large rock.

"We should take turns staying awake," Bridget said.

Brooke looked at her. "Do you think there are animals?"

"Listen," I said.

Above the sound of the crackling fire, we heard the chorus: insects, birds, inhuman caws and calls, leaves rustling. We might be the only people on this island but we were most definitely not alone.

I looked at the two women beside me: Bridget, my oldest friend, the girl who stuck by me through thick and thin for a decade-and-a-half, and Brooke, my longtime crush who had once made me feel small with a smile, now looking so lost and lonely.

The first night on the island, I slept in fits and starts. I woke to every pop of the fire, every strong breeze, every snore from Bridget curled on one side of me and Brooke on the other. We weren't touching but we were as close as we could be without doing so.

Near dawn, in the first dim light of the second day of our odyssey, I opened my eyes and saw Brooke awake. She was looking past me at Bridget, and her expression was one of deep affection, maybe even love. Then Brooke's eyes shifted to me. She gave me a smile and I was grateful to see that it was genuine, not sad.

No More Walking Away.

Morning proved that it hadn't all been a horrible nightmare.

At night the island had been firelight, shadows, and noise. In the morning it was sand in my teeth, a headache behind my eyes, one aching shoulder, and Brooke trying to untangle a piece of seaweed from her hair.

Bridget was already awake when I sat up.

She stood near the remains of the fire with her hands on her hips, staring at the beach. Her red hair was a dry frizzed mess around her face, her flannel torn, one sleeve missing, leggings stiff with salt.

"You slept," she said.

"Did I?"

"You made old-man noises."

"I'm injured."

"You always make old-man noises."

Brooke groaned. "Please don't flirt this early."

Bridget and I both looked at her. Brooke had one arm over her eyes. Her voice was rough. Her blonde hair was a tangled bird's nest. She looked nothing like the blonde beauty who had adorned a thousand social media posts. Instead, she looked like a real person.

Brooke shifted, winced, and grabbed at her ribs. Bridget noticed immediately and crouched beside her.

"Still bad?"

Brooke took an experimental deep breath. "It hurts."

"Sharp?"

"No. More like; bruised. Deep."

I remembered Bridget taking a first-aid course back in high school. She had been thinking about getting certified, although she never went through with it.

"Can you stand?"

Brooke tried. Halfway up, she stopped, face pale.

"Slow," Bridget said. She moved over to help the other woman. Brooke's hand rested briefly on Bridget's forearm for balance, and neither of them pulled away fast.

We had a lot to figure out that first full day: shelter, water, food, fire, signal, injuries, poison plants, and maybe even sharks. We also needed to get a better idea of the island's topography and check in case other survivors had washed up somewhere else.

The first problem was water, even though we'd found the stream. We needed a way to carry it and maybe keep some near the beach. Bridget's metal bottle was only one bottle, and three adults could easily go through a dozen fill-ups per day.

So it was time to explore our new home and do a little scavenging. The beach had become the resting place for pieces of the crash by then. Not much useful at first, and thankfully no human remains. We inventoried a torn seat cushion, several plastic panels, a broken tray table, a partially intact suitcase with nothing inside but soaked men's shirts and one shoe, a bright blue scarf, a cracked cosmetics case, and a penknife. We kept the last of those, thinking it might prove useful, if only for opening up mollusks.

Then we found a section of overhead bin washed up near the black rocks. It wasn't ideal; it was bulky and heavy; but it held water if tilted right. We dragged the bin piece up the beach and rinsed it in the stream.

"Not perfect," Bridget said. "But it will do until something better comes along."

The second problem was fire.

The lighter still worked, but Bridget was adamant that we couldn't waste it and she didn't think it had much butane left. "Ideally, we need to keep a fire going at all times. That limits the number of times we have to use the lighter. While no one actually needs to tend the fire constantly, we need to keep an eye on it." We needed dry tinder and a shelter for the fire when it rained. We gathered palm fronds, driftwood, bark, anything dry enough to catch.

My shoulder made lifting hard, and Bridget kept telling me to stop using that arm.

"I'm helping."

"You're helping badly."

By midday, the sun was high and relentless. Our skin darkened and reddened and we moved into shade as much as possible, recognizing that a sunburn would be very unpleasant and possibly dangerous. Bridget, with the fair complexion of her Irish ancestors, was especially vulnerable.

Salt dried on my skin in itchy patches. Every cut burned. My clothes felt like cardboard. Brooke kept tugging at the hem of her torn white top, which had dried stiff and no longer seemed to fit. Bridget's leggings were rubbing raw behind her knees.

On the positive side, I had drunk enough water that my pee had returned to its normal pale yellow color after being a deep umber when I woke up. Brooke and Bridget had determined which leaves were the best ones to use for toilet paper. I took note, since that information would eventually become useful to me too.

The stream pool looked better every time we passed it, not only as a means of slaking our thirst but for bathing. We decided that our drinking source would come from about a dozen yards upstream from the pool, thereby eliminating the possibility of accidentally drinking water we had contaminated from washing.

Bridget was the first one to state the obvious. "We need to rinse off," she said.

"In the pool?" Brooke asked.

"No, Brooke, in the sauna."

I cleared my throat. "I can, uh, go downstream while you two;"

"Are we or are we not all adults?" asked Bridget, clearly losing patience. "I just want to get clean and feel vaguely human again. I don't care if you two see my tits. Modesty doesn't seem like it has much value here."

I know I was overthinking things and that Bridget was right. I had seen naked women before. But those naked women hadn't been my best friend and longtime crush. Seeing either of them naked seemed like a very big thing. And I'll admit I was also a little worried that I wouldn't; measure up. But it was equally true that we needed to get cleaned up.

"We can take turns," I said.

Bridget sighed like she was offended but agreed. "Yeah. Good."

Brooke looked between us. "Fine."

So that became the plan. The pool was maybe thirty yards inland, hidden enough by trees that the beach disappeared from its near edge. It was neither big enough to swim laps nor deep enough to submerge much above the knees but it was more than adequate for our purposes.

Bridget went first. While she was bathing, Brooke and I walked back toward the beach to give her the privacy she wasn't demanding. We sat on a fallen palm trunk facing the ocean.

For about thirty seconds, neither of us spoke, listening to the water splashing behind us. We both stared straight ahead.

"You're being very respectful," Brooke said.

"I'm always respectful."

"But you want to see her, right? And me?"

She made me sound like a pervert. But I wasn't about to deny what was obviously true. I glanced at her and saw that she was smiling, a glint of mischief in her eyes. Even though it was coming at the cost of my embarrassment, I was glad to see this side of Brooke re-emerging.

"I don't mind. In fact, it would be weird if you didn't. And, unless we get rescued really soon, it's going to happen. My clothes are torn to shit and I don't have any spares and yours and Bridget's aren't in much better shape. Unless you're blind, I'm sure you've already seen my nipples a half-dozen times."

Truth was, I hadn't. But now there was no chance that I wasn't going to start looking.

"You and Bridget. I've watched you two for so long, almost never with the best motives. And I've always envied you," she said. "Because she loves you."

I stared at the ocean. "You said that once before."

"At prom."

"Yeah."

"I was right then and I'm right now."

"So where does that put you?"

"I don't know," she said, a little sadly. "Somewhere outside the door, hoping someone lets me in."

Silence returned as I mulled over that thought because as important as Bridget was to me, I couldn't envision just letting go of Brooke.

After a while, Bridget called out, "Okay. Done."

When she came back through the trees, her hair was wet and darker against her neck. She had rinsed her flannel and tank top and put it back on damp, w

Naked and Unafraid: Part 1

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Fri, 07 Aug 2026 18:34:00 +0000

Naked and Unafraid: Part 1.

This is not Gilligan's Island.

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

Senior Year.

The thing about Brooke Hartley was that she knew exactly how pretty she was.

Not in the fake way, either, where girls pretended to hate mirrors but always looked picture-perfect. Brooke knew. It was her primary high school characteristic; blonde hair, blue eyes, long legs, and a smile that endeared her to teachers and kept guys on leashes.

I hated her. But I was also obsessed with her. That was a defining problem of my existence during those four years of awkwardness that finished my primary school career. It seemed that every time I stumbled, which was distressingly often, she was there with that smile and a knife. And when she stuck it in, she always twisted. Guys who bullied were straightforward about it. Not so with girls; their approach was more subtle and hurtful.

By senior year, I had finally grown into myself, or at least that's what my mom said. I'd been small and bony for most of elementary school and junior high, with little to note beyond my academic excellence and propensity to be picked last for team games in gym class. Then, sometime between junior and senior year, my growth hormones kicked in and I got taller. My chest and shoulders gained definition. My jaw squared up and sprouted the beginnings of whiskers. I started running in the mornings because that was the one form of exercise that I didn't find tedious. Although I still fell far from the "jock" categorization, I no longer looked like the stereotypical "nerd."

By October, girls who'd never looked at me twice started smiling in the hallway, but that didn't include Brooke. She still insisted on calling me "Bennie the Brain." And because Brooke was the Senior Prom Queen-In-Waiting, most of the girls took their cues from her.

"Morning, Bennie," she'd say, leaning against her locker as I walked past. The girls around her would laugh like trained seals. I tried to ignore it, to pretend that it didn't bother me. And it might not have except I secretly wanted to hear something nice from her. And every time she talked to me, even if it was to issue a put-down, it would still make my day. Because the only thing worse than being spat upon by Brooke was being ignored by Brooke. Pathetic? Yeah. I know.

Bridget, one of the few girls who did the exact opposite of what Brooke wanted from the female half of the school's student body, called me on it immediately.

"You're doing the thing," she said at lunch.

"What thing?"

We were sitting outside behind the gym, where hardly anyone went because the aluminum benches were old and rusted and the lawn was more weeds than grass. Bridget had one foot up on a bench, arm hugging a knee, red-haired ponytail catching the early autumn sunlight. She had a protein bar in one hand and an apple in the other, because she didn't believe in doing any serious eating during the day, especially not this close to cross-country practice.

"The Brooke thing," she said.

"I don't have a Brooke thing."

"You absolutely have a Brooke thing. You never push back on her. You just keep taking her shit. It's depressing."

I looked away, mostly because she was right.

Bridget and I had been friends since Garfield Elementary School, which meant she had seen all the different iterations through the years. She remembered the time the barber cut my hair too short. She remembered when I got a concussion in gym during dodge ball She remembered when I threw up on the bus during the fourth-grade field trip. And she never used any of those things as ammunition. They were shared experiences that formed the skeleton of our friendship.

"She's not that bad," I said.

Bridget stared at me, eyes bugging out. "What? You can't be serious."

"She's just;"

"A monster?"

"She's popular."

"Those aren't synonyms, Ben."

"She's not mean all the time."

"Name one time when she hasn't shit all over you or me. Just one!"

That was another thing about Bridget. She stood up to herself, regardless of who the adversary was. She never let Brooke get away with even the tiniest slight, especially if it involved me. She defended me against Brooke because I was seemingly unable to do so myself.

I didn't understand it then, but there was something else going on under the surface. Brooke teased everyone, sure, but she saved her nastiest barbs for Bridget. It wasn't just Brooke being Brooke. There was an intensity in the way her eyes would become riveted onto Bridget when she walked into a room or the way she'd say her name: "Bridg, et."

Bridget, who was usually good-natured and funny, hated Brooke even more than I did, but was unhampered by the crush that kept me neutered.

It was late November, raining hard enough to dot the school parking lot with puddles. I had stayed after school to help Mr. Larkin set up some projectors for the Academic Awards Assembly, because I was always looking for extracurricular activities to boost my high school resume. By the time I finished, most of the school had emptied, walkers having walked and busers having taken their buses. The hallways had that weird after-hours feeling, where sounds echoed unnaturally loud. I was cutting through the arts wing when I heard voices from the girls' locker room corridor.

I shouldn't have stopped, but I did.

"Move," Bridget said. Her voice was low and controlled, a warning sign. Most of the time, she pushed back verbally but she wasn't above getting physical, especially with no teachers around. I'd once seen her beat the living crap out of a girl who was twice her size.

Brooke laughed. "Relax. I'm not touching you. Wouldn't want to dirty my hands."

"You're blocking the hallway."

"It's a hallway. There's plenty of room."

"Then move."

I stepped closer, just enough to see around the trophy case.

Brooke stood with two of her friends, Madison and Kelsey, who hovered just behind her, smirks plastered across their faces. Brooke had showered and changed after cheer practice, her hair still damp at the temples. Bridget was in her running gear, sweatshirt unzipped, one hand gripping the strap of her gym bag.

They were maybe two feet apart. Brooke was taller by maybe six inches but that didn't intimidate Bridget.

Brooke smiled that oily smile she reserved only for Bridget and me. "You always this aggressive after practice?"

"Only around people I don't like."

Brooke's eyes glanced down, quick as lightning, taking in Bridget's bare legs. It was so fast I almost missed it. But I didn't and neither did Bridget.

"Don't look at me like that," she said.

Brooke's smile faltered by just a fraction. "Like what?"

"You know like what."

"God, you're so full of yourself," she said. "Not everyone is obsessed with you, Ginger Spice."

"Funny," she said. "That's not what your eyes say."

Madison and Kelsey both goggled because no one talked to Brooke like that.

But Brooke's comeback was weak. "You wish," she said.

"No. I really don't."

There was no telling where things might have gone from there if fate hadn't intervened. At that moment, Brooke noticed me watching the interaction. "Wow," she said. "We have an audience. Your 'boyfriend.'"

Bridget turned. "Ben?"

"Hey," I said, stuck for words as was typically the case when Brooke was around.

Brooke's smile came back, bigger and meaner. "Were you spying on us, Bennie? Get off on watching your little girlfriend get cut down to size?"

"No. I was just;"

"Creeping?"

"I was walking."

"In a hallway outside the girls' locker room?"

"It's also the arts wing."

And here's the part I hated about myself: even then, with her in the midst of a merciless round of humiliation, I reacted to her attention like it was sunlight. Because she was noticing me, even if the level of her regard was like something nasty she had stepped in.

"You know," she said, pretending to study me. "You're almost cute now. Did your cock grow as much as the rest of you?"

My face burned. Bridget moved to my side.

Brooke sensed vulnerability. "Oh," she said softly. "That bothers you."

"Leave him alone," Bridget said.

"Why? He's a big boy." Her gaze returned to me. "Aren't you, Ben?" She emphasized my name: Ben, not Bennie.

I swallowed. "I'm not interested in whatever this is."

"Sure."

"You're bored," Bridget said to Brooke. "Go ruin somebody else's day."

Brooke's gaze shifted to Bridget. "You always defend him."

"Somebody has to."

"Maybe he doesn't want you to."

I should've said something then, something to validate her position. But all I came up with was "It's fine."

She flinched at that, her eyes darting from Brooke to me. She had been expecting me to back her up, and when I didn't, the disappointment was impossible to miss.

Brooke let out a tiny laugh. "Guess I was wrong, then," she said. "It's fine."

Then she walked away with Madison and Kelsey trailing after her. For a few seconds, Bridget and I stood there listening to the rain.

"I didn't mean;" I started.

"It's fine," she said.

I deserved that. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and walked past me.

"Bridget." She stopped but didn't turn. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize for liking her," she said.

I stared at the back of her head. "I don't like her."

"Okay."

"I don't."

"Okay, Ben."

She left, disappearing down the hall. That was the first time I wondered if Bridget liked me as more than a friend.

Winter turned the school ugly. Gray snow piled in the corners of the parking lot where the plows deposited it. The football team lost in regionals, which ended pep rallies and killed school spirit. College acceptance letters started showing up, and people started looking ahead to their futures and stepping past the present. I got into Westbridge University with a scholarship. Bridget got in too.

We found out the same afternoon. She caught up to me in my driveway and wrapped me in a bear hug. I lost my balance and tumbled onto the lawn, pulling her along with me.

"We're going together," Bridget said, breathless, lying next to me. "Four more years!"

"I can't think of anything better."

She rolled onto her side and smiled at me, her cheeks pink from the cold. I studied the freckles across her nose and the red hair in disarray around her face. She was beautiful. I just hadn't seen it before because, to me, she was "just Bridget." Now, belatedly, I was seeing her the way others saw her.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"No, you're staring."

"I'm not."

"You are."

If there was ever a time to kiss her, that was it. But, instead, I simply rose and offered her my hand. She took it and, laughing, yelled that she was going to tell her mom the good news. Then she was off like a shot, sprinting toward her house.

Brooke didn't get into Westbridge. In all likelihood, she didn't apply. That level of academic rigor would have been foreign to her. Instead, she was headed out of state to a notorious party school. She bragged about it like it was a big deal but everyone knew that people with good grades didn't go there. And, with the focus shifting away from high school, the aura surrounding Brooke had begun to dissipate. The queen of our high school was about to find herself in a much larger pond with many other queens of their high schools.

Brooke had sufficient self-awareness to recognize it and her mood became less sunny toward her hangers-on. She started actively avoiding Bridget and me, failing to pursue opportunities to tease and ridicule.

In April, three weeks before prom, I found a note in my locker.

Ben,

Can you meet me behind the auditorium after school? I want to talk.

; Brooke

I read it. Then read it again. Then read it several more times, searching for hidden meanings. At lunch, I showed it to Bridget.

"Ignore it," she said.

"You don't even know what she wants."

"Whatever it is, it's guaranteed to humiliate you. Or worse."

"It seems innocent."

"That's how traps work. They use bait. I mean, 'meet me behind the auditorium after school.' Really? She's daring you to fall for it. She'll get you to pull out your cock and someone will snap a picture. Or something like that."

I folded the note and stuck it in my pocket. The thing was, I so wanted this to be sincere. And I knew that if I didn't go, I'd wonder for the rest of my life if I had avoided more trickery or missed an opportunity. "I'm just going to see what she wants."

Bridget exhaled a sigh of resignation. "Of course you are." She knew Brooke's note was catnip to me.

The back of the school wasn't much to look at: just cracked pavement, a few emergency exits, and a shit-ton of air-conditioning units. It wasn't strictly off-limits to students but practically no one ever went there. There was no real privacy due to all the cameras and the noise from the compressors made conversation challenging.

When I rounded the corner, Brooke was already there, sitting on the concrete ledge beside one of the exits. As best I could tell, she was alone. That in and of itself surprised me. I had half-expected the entourage. And there wasn't really anywhere anyone could hide with a camera for a "gotcha!" moment.

She looked up when she noticed me coming. Much to my astonishment, she seemed uncertain. Never in my life could I remember Brooke looking uncertain about anything.

"Hey," she said. "Come over here and sit. I'm not going to bite you." Her smile was more half-hearted than predatory.

"I didn't think you would."

"Liar."

Unslinging my backpack, I sat next to her, although I kept a respectable distance. Even from a couple feet away, I could smell the commingled scents of her vanilla body wash and strawberry shampoo. They mixed nicely; she was like a parfait.

For a minute, neither of us said anything. Finally, Brooke broke the silence. "I know you probably think this is some kind of scam or trick. If I was in your position, I would have blown this off, so I'm glad you didn't. I just wanted to say;" She paused, as if trying to figure out how to continue. "I've been awful to you," she finally finished.

Her words didn't reassure me. "What is this really about? Look, Brooke, I know I've let you walk all over me for years now but high school is almost over and, after graduation, you and I will probably never see each other again. So whatever it is that you have to say, say it."

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise, as if my sudden display of backbone had been the last thing she had expected. "Okay, look. I'm trying to apologize." She suddenly looked tired, deflated. Then I recognized what she was: a deposed queen, abandoned by her court and reckoning with the damage she had done during her reign.

"Why now?" I asked.

She leaned back against the brick wall. For the first time in all our interactions, she let her facade slip. That's when I got a glimpse beneath the mask: loneliness, sadness, maybe even a little fear. She knew I was looking and allowed me to see. "Because we're graduating and life is changing. I've been realizing how small our world was and how big it's about to get. You said it; we'll probably never see each other again and I knew; well, I didn't want you to spend the rest of your life hating me. Back in freshman year, Bridget said that one day there would be a reckoning. I guess this is it."

"That's it?" I didn't really know how to feel about this. Incredulous, mostly.

"I don't know," she said. "Maybe. Maybe not. I haven't felt like myself lately."

"I'm sorry," I said, although I had no idea what I was apologizing for. Force of habit with Brooke.

Her eyebrows drew together. "For what?"

"Uh."

"Stop apologizing during my apology."

"Sorry."

She looked at me and we both laughed. Real laughter, not forced or awkward. It was the first time I'd ever laughed with Brooke.

Brooke leaned a little closer, closing part of that two-foot gap. The fruity scent was nearly overpowering. "You still scared of me, Ben?"

"Yes," I said.

"You don't have to be."

Then the emergency door opened and out stepped Bridget. My knight in shining armor. Her eyes took in everything in a glance: me, Brooke, the tiny space between our shoulders.

Brooke straightened, acting like the kid who had been caught stealing from the cookie jar.

"Wow," she said. Then, to Bridget: "He is old enough to take care of himself."

Bridget ignored her, instead focusing on me. "You okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah." I couldn't shake the feeling that if Bridget hadn't appeared, Brooke might have kissed me. I couldn't help but be a little annoyed by the interruption.

"He's fine, Bridget. We were just talking. No nefarious agendas."

"That's new."

"I was apologizing."

Bridget didn't say anything. She just stood there, glaring.

Brooke lifted both hands. "What? You want one too?"

No response.

Brooke stood. "You know what, Bridget? Your whole loyal-dog thing is exhausting." Then, to me, "What is it they say? No good deed goes unpunished." She grabbed her bag and walked past us, not even glancing back over her shoulder as she exited.

"I'm not your guard dog," Bridget said when Brooke was out of hearing range. "I don't defend you because I think you're weak. I do it because I care about you and because you're too kind to fight back."

"I know."

"I'm glad she apologized." Her tone indicated the exact opposite. She then added, "She's messing with your head and you're letting her because you want to believe whatever shit she's dishing out."

I wanted to deny it because what I had seen in Brooke's face told me Bridget was wrong this time. But if Brooke really had been trying to build a bridge, my best friend's untimely arrival had trashed that effort.

Bridget sighed. "Some people can be sorry and still selfish."

Prom came and went. I didn't ask Brooke or Bridget, preferring the safety offered by my small cadre of equally dateless male friends. Bridget went with a group from track. Brooke went with Caleb Morrison, whose high school celebrity status reaffirmed her own position on the student hierarchy.

I spent most of the night trying not to look at either Bridget or Brooke, but my eyes were drawn to them regardless. Brooke was stunning in a pale blue dress. It complemented her eyes, made her blonde hair dazzle, and hugged her tits so tightly it was almost indecent. Bridget wore something soft, simple, and green, with her hair down instead of in its customary ponytail.

At some point, late in the night, I stepped outside to get some air. Bridget was already there, almost as if she had been waiting for me, although I knew she hadn't been. She stood near the edge of the parking lot, arms crossed, looking up at the sky. The music thumped through the gym walls behind us.

"You hiding too?" I asked.

"There's only so much 'dancing' I can take."

Chuckling, I stood beside her. For a while we didn't talk.

Then she said, "Last high school e

The Busty Young Babysitter: Part 2

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Thu, 06 Aug 2026 23:20:00 +0000

The Busty Young Babysitter: Part 2

How long can John hide his lusty tryst?.

Based on a post by seth p, in 2 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast at Connected.

John woke the next morning with a start. He popped up into a sitting position, full of panic. What had he done? He looked around the room. It was empty except for himself and the bedroom door was shut. There was absolutely no evidence of last night's tryst with the baby sitter. Maybe it was a dream? As John yanked on a t-shirt and sweatpants, he knew in his mind that he had done something very, very wrong last night.

He all but ran down the steps and into the kitchen and stopped dead in the doorway. Rachel and the two kids were singing a song about a bus and eating fruit loops between verses. It was the cutest thing John had ever seen. It had been a long time since there had been any singing in the Greene home. John smiled despite himself.

"Say, 'good morning, Daddy,'" Rachel commanded and kids cheerfully did as they were instructed and then went back to eating their cereal.

"We need to talk," John said, motioning for Rachel to follow.

"Sure," Rachel said smiling deeply at him. "You can finish the movie after you eat," she said to the kids as she followed John into the downstairs office.

He shut the door behind him, but Rachel spoke first.

"Kathy called."

"She did?" John kept himself calm.

"Yes. She called while you were sleeping. She was a little surprised that I was still here, but thought that it was a good idea. She asked if I could watch the kids tomorrow and Tuesday until she came home."

"I...well I was going to ask you but...I mean...it's not a good idea now. We need to talk about last night."

Rachel ignored John's comment and kept on going. "Did you know that I don't have school this week?"

"I didn't know that, but..." John countered. "It doesn't matter."

"So I told Kathy that I could, and she said you had early morning meetings both Monday and Tuesday and thought that spending the night in the guest room Sunday and Monday night would be best for the kids."

"She did?" John was flummoxed.

"Yes. I already told my mom and she's dropping off a bag of clothes for me later today. We're all set."

"No...I mean, we're not all set." John said.

"Kathy asked me what we did last night."

"What?"

"You heard me, didn't you?"

"Yes...what did you tell her?"

"What do you think I told her?"

John shook his head. Rachel wouldn't do that do him.

Rachel just laughed.

"What do you want for breakfast?" Rachel said. She smiled and left the room.

"I don't want anything," John said to himself. What was he supposed to do now? It was his dream come true and his worst nightmare. How could anything go back to normal again? Why would he want it to?

John decided to skip breakfast. He snuck a cup of coffee when Rachel was in tending to the children and then went upstairs to finish his TPS report.

He had been shut off in his bedroom the entire morning without interruption when the bedroom door opened. It was Rachel with her bags.

"Hey you," she said coyly. "I didn't want to disturb you while you were working up here. Everyone is down for their naps and I thought I'd take a shower."

"Thank you," John said. "You really are great with them. They'd still be crying if I was alone here trying to put them down to sleep."

"Well you aren't alone. You aren't alone anymore," Rachel said, peeling off her t-shirt.

"You shouldn't," John protested. "Last night was..." He was unable to finish as she stepped out of her shorts. She was perfect.

Rachel just giggled and locked the bedroom door. Her massive tits bounced as she walked towards John. He stood there frozen, his breathe quickening. Rachel changed directing just before she reached him and sauntered into the master bathroom. She looked back, motioning him to follow. John did.

Rachel had already started the shower. "I...I'm going downstairs to get some...to..." he stammered.

"I want you to join me in the shower. Please?" she walked over and kissed him hard on the lips, placing a hand on his crotch at the same time. He was already rock hard. She grabbed his cock firmly through the fabric of his pants.

John kissed her back, his hands roaming over her young supple body. Rachel stepped back. "Please?"

"Why?" he asked.

"Because I love you silly," Rachel said giggling again. She turned and walked into the shower.

John stared after her. Nobody beside his children, had told him that in years. Could she even know what love was? Asking God to forgive him, he pulled off his clothes and entered the shower with Rachel. Last night was bad enough, but at this second in time, he was about to cross the line of no return. Maybe he'd already crossed it last night. It didn't matter.

Rachel handed him the body wash and sponge. "I really need you to get my back good," she said turning away from him.

John started to lather up her back. Just touching her was sending electric shocks throughout his entire body. He felt like his head was going to explode.

"Don't forget my ass." She winked at him.

John didn't. He couldn't imagine ever forgetting a perfectly round ass like hers. It just wasn't possible. He worked the soap over her shapely ass and thighs and down the back of her legs and then worked his way up the sides of her stomach and reached around to her enormous boobs. Rachel moaned and leaned back against him as he worked his hands over them.

"It's my turn," Rachel said turning around. John closed his eyes as this beautiful young woman cleaned every last inch of him, paying singular attention to his rigid cock.

They made out as the hot water washed away all the soap. It seemed to wash away all of John's doubt and shame as well. They toweled off and then Rachel led John back out onto the bed.

"Let me take care of this for you," she said dropping to her knees in front of him. "It's so big. You have no idea how full I felt last night. I didn't know I could feel like that."

"Oh...it's not that big...I mean..."

John stopped talking as Rachel engulfed his member deep into her mouth. She was good. She slid her mouth up and down his shaft, taking him deeper each time. Then she blew his mind as she took him so deep into her throat that her nose was buried in his pubic hair. John had never felt anything so good in his life. Kathy certainly wasn't capable of this. Hell, she wouldn't even give him a hand job anymore.

John looked down at Rachel and they stared into each other's eyes as she worked her wonderful mouth up and down his shaft. She was drooling around his cock and moaning as she sucked him. John only lasted a few minutes.

"I'm going to cum," he warned.

Rachel pulled her mouth off of his cock long enough to plead for him to fill her mouth with it. That was all it took, and he started pumping cum between her lips.

"Ugh...Oh God..."

Rachel kept on sucking and swallowing until John started to deflate in her mouth. She pulled her mouth away. "Yummy."

John collapsed back onto the bed. "Come here," he commanded.

Rachel stood up. "I'm right here."

"No. That's not what I mean. Come here. I want your pussy on my face. I'm going to eat you."

"Oh!" Rachel exclaimed and then jumped onto the bed, crawling over John's body until her naked sex was right over his face. "No one's ever done that to me before."

John pulled her down onto his mouth and started to lick her oozing slit. Rachel moaned and ground herself against John's mouth. "Oh Fuck! Eat me!" she squealed.

John pleasured her, licking and sucking on her clit. It had been years since he had done this, and he was going to make the most of it. She was delicious and her body was telling him that he was doing it right.

"Oh...oh....I'm cumming," she moaned as her body shook in orgasm. John kept licking and sucking her as she came. Rachel kept grinding her pussy against John's mouth. She rolled off of him a few minutes later, breathing heavily.

John looked over at her squeezing her hand. "Are you okay?"

"I couldn't breathe...fuck...that was so intense...that was so good....oohh."

They both lay there recovering on the bed, holding hands.

"I love you," Rachel said and then grabbed some clothes and a small bag of toiletries and ran into the bathroom.

"Shit," John said to himself, still savoring her taste on his tongue. "She really is delicious."

Rachel came out a few minutes later. "It's all yours," she said smiling at him. "I'm going to check on the kids and what I've got in the oven."

She was wearing the tightest jeans that John had ever seen. They were a second skin, revealing every inch of her luscious ass and shapely legs. She had on an almost sheer white top with a plunging neckline. John could see her large thick nipples poking against the fabric. Rachel just laughed at him and left the bedroom. John's cock was semi-hard again. He shook his head and walked into the bathroom.

John brushed his teeth, got dressed and went downstairs as well. When he got there he could smell a roast that Rachel had in the oven. She knew her way around the kitchen for sure. She was outside playing with the kids again. What was he going to do? Did she really love him? Was he going to leave his wife? What about the kids? She was too young for him!

Just then there was a knock on the front door. John was surprised when he opened it up and it was his sister. "Uh...Hi," John said, clearly surprised.

"Hey John," she said. "Well, aren't you going to let me in?"

Of course not, John thought to himself. My braless, barely-legal, illicit lover is out back playing with my children and you want to come in? Instead, John simply said, "yes."

John's sister, Wendy, was a few years younger than John and lived in Pennsylvania.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, just now noticing that she had a suitcase with her.

"Don't you remember?" She sighed and stared at him. "I told you I was heading out west for the writer's faire and that I'd be stopping by Sunday night. Don't tell me that you forgot?"

"I...no...I mean yes. I forgot."

"Where's Kathy?"

"Well that's part of the problem. Her sister was in the hospital and she left to help her out for a few days. Things have been kind of crazy around here, especially with work. It doesn't matter though. You're always welcome and we always have room for you."

"Well that explains a lot," Wendy said laughing. "Are you cooking? Something smells wonderful."

"Well, not exactly," John said grabbing Wendy's suitcase and setting it near the stairs. "Do you remember Rachel, our babysitter?"

"She's here? She's cooking?"

"Yes. It was all Kathy's idea."

"Of course," Wendy replied. "I see."

There was no love lost between John's sister and his wife. "Come on out and say hi to the kids," John said, leading Wendy to the back of the house.

As soon as the kids saw John's sister, they came running in from the back yard. "Hi Aunt Wendy!" they said in unison, smothering her in hugs and kisses.

"Hi," Rachel said sheepishly, standing in the doorway.

"Hi Rachel," Wendy said, arching her eyebrows, obviously shocked by Rachel's barely covered breasts. "Shouldn't...never mind...do you remember me from a few a few years ago? You've changed."

"Thank you," Rachel replied. "I do remember you."

At this point the kids ran back outside to finish making mud pies and Rachel hurried along behind them.

"John, we need to talk," Wendy said angrily to John. "She looks like a slut and in front of the kids."

"I was upstairs working and just now came down. I had no idea," he defended himself. His own anger was rising; or was it guilt?

"Okay...Christ, I'm sorry," Wendy said putting a hand on her brother's arm. "It's been a long drive and I'm a little grumpy. I was just shocked. I know that's how girls dress these days. Could you tell her to change shirts, for me?"

"Of course," John replied. "Why don't you go upstairs and freshen up. Rachel was going to stay in the guest room but it's all yours. She won't mind sleeping on the couch."

Wendy just nodded and took her bags upstairs. John called Rachel in, but before he could say anything, she told him that she was going upstairs to change shirts and get her stuff out of the guest room.

"That was easy," he said to himself. Why did she have to make everything so damn easy?

John and Wendy spent the rest of the afternoon catching up and playing with the kids as Rachel made dinner. "It's like having your own live in housekeeper," Wendy said as Rachel call from the kitchen that dinner was ready. John smirked. It was a lot more than that.

Dinner was great and Wendy started warming up to Rachel. They both kicked John out of the kitchen and cleaned up together. They were actually having a good time in there, joking around. John thought that it was nice to have the sound of friendly laughter coming out of the kitchen for a change.

When it was time to turn in for the night, Wendy apologized for taking the guest room and offered it back to Rachel.

"No thanks Wendy," Rachel replied. "I'm fine out here and these couches are very comfortable. I'll probably sleep better than you."

John hoped so. He knew that he wouldn't be able to resist her if she snuck into his room tonight. He still didn't know what he was going to do? Just cut Rachel off and find another babysitter? Would she keep quiet? Did John even want her to?

John awoke in the middle of the night with a massive hard on. Well, that wasn't quite right. He awoke in the middle of the night to Rachel jacking him off to his full length and hardness.

"Rachel! What are you doing? My sister is in the next room!" he hissed at her.

Rachel responded by taking half his shaft into her mouth and swirling her tongue around it. Soon she was bobbing her head up and down his thick cock, making wet slurping noises. John was unable to protest. The feeling was too good and the sounds of her sloppy blowjob were almost too much.

Rachel pulled her mouth off of his cock, drool running down her chin. "I missed you today. I felt like we had to keep our relationship a secret with your sister here."

"We do," John said as Rachel pulled off her oversized t-shirt letting her monumental tits spring free. "Oh, my God."

Rachel got on the bed and lay back, spreading her legs. "I've never needed anything in my life as badly as I need you right now. I was going to ask you to make love to me but all I really want you to do is fuck me," she said pouting her lips for effect.

"I...Wendy is...you..." John stammered. His cock was impossibly hard and it hurt.

Rachel inserted a finger into her pussy and started fucking herself with it. "I need this to be your cock, lover. Your cock is much thicker and longer than my finger and it will pump me full of your baby seed."

In spite of himself he crawled over Rachel, squeezing one of her plump boobs as she continued to finger herself. Did she just say baby seed? He had filled her pussy up with his semen without using protection. He hadn't even bothered to ask her if she was on the pill. What if he got her pregnant? She probably already was. This was a nightmare. She was his personal whore of Babylon and he was helpless to stop himself.

"Please," Rachel whispered huskily. "Be my man and fuck me."

"I am your man," John said and thrust himself inside her. Soon they were sucking on each other's tongues as they fucked. Rachel was moaning into his mouth and grabbing John's ass, urging him deeper. Rachel was so tight and warm and alive. He knew in that instant that he would never give her up. They both came together, neither of them noticing Wendy watching from the doorway.

Rachel slept with John that night, only bothering to get dressed when his alarm clock went off for work. She took her time pulling on her pajamas and leaving his room.

When John finished dressing, he left the room and ran right into Wendy.

"John...we need to talk."

"What's up? I haven't had any coffee yet so don't make it too complicated."

"Oh this is going to be easy," Wendy said looking like she was about to unleash the fury of the world upon him.

"Okay, you've got my attention."

"I know that Rachel slept with you last night."

"Slept with me?"

"Don't make me say it. Goddamn you!"

"I..."

"I saw you fucking each other's brains out last night. There! Do you understand that?""

John strode past his sister and headed down the stairs and into the kitchen. Rachel and the kids were sitting there eating fruit loops. He stood there for a minute, realizing that his little fantasy was soon going to be over. Rachel stood up as soon as she saw John enter the kitchen, and went over to the coffee machine. Wendy followed John into the kitchen and her and Rachel shared a look. It was a look that said that there were no secrets here this morning. They both turned and looked at John.

"Go finish your movie, guys," Rachel said to the children. They both took off into the family room leaving only the adults.

"John?" Rachel asked. It was a question that really asked everything.

"John," Wendy said simply.

John started to sweat. He wanted to crawl into a hole. It was moments like this that defined who a man really was. He didn't want to be a timid little coward who cheated and lied.

The Busty Young Babysitter: Part 1

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Thu, 06 Aug 2026 13:30:59 +0000

The Busty Young Babysitter: Part 1

John has it bad for his top heavy young babysitter.

Based on a post by seth p, in 2 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast at Connected.

Rachel was just pulling her coat on when John came down the stairs. He handed Rachel her payment in cash.

"Thank you, Mr. Greene." Rachel smiled in gratitude.

"You're welcome," he replied. "You deserve every penny. Kathy and I are very happy with you. There is no one that we trust the kids with more than you."

"Thank you, that means a lot. I love them like they're my own. I would do anything for you guys."

Rachel was starting to blush and was having a hard time meeting John's gaze. For his part, John was having a hard time keeping his eyes away from Rachel's exposed cleavage. Did she realize what she was doing? It was bad enough that her breasts were over-large on her small frame, jutting out from her chest like a pair of ripe melons. Why did she have to wear such revealing clothing? John was glad that she wasn't meeting his gaze. He was embarrassed at his lack of self-control.

"Okay...I guess we'll see you on Saturday then." He cleared his throat and broke the awkward silence. How long had he been standing there trying not to look at her chest and not saying anything?

"Yes. I'll be here at six p.m," She managed to meet his eyes. "Bye, Mr. Greene." She grabbed her purse and hurried out the door.

Do all high school seniors dress that way? He wondered. He had to remind himself that she was eighteen and could dress any damn way she chose. She was an adult now, although just barely. John stood there for a long time staring at the closed door, until his wife called to him from upstairs.

"Coming, honey," he said. "Just turning out the lights and locking up down here."

John dreamed of the busty little babysitter all night long and awoke with one of the hardest, most painful erections of his life. His wife had already left for work and he resigned himself to a cold shower. Not that she would have done anything, John thought. He was running late himself and barely made it to work on time. It was a long day and it took John most of it to clear his head.

The week progressed at a snail's pace, but Saturday arrived at last. John's wife had tickets to the opera and although John couldn't think of anything he hated more, he resigned himself to his fate. It was bad enough that she always seemed to have a headache when there was a concert that John wanted to go to, but she expected him to attend all of her highbrow events.

The doorbell rang and John ran down the steps to open it. It was Rachel, and she couldn't have worn a tighter shirt if she tried. It clung to her chest like a second skin. Her giant, gravity-defying tits were straining to burst right through it.

"H...uh..." John stammered. He started to shake and cough just like the old man in that famous book by Nabokov.

Rachel giggled. "Can I come in?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed a little too loudly. "Sorry, Rachel. It was a long week and I'm exhausted." He stood to the side allowing her to saunter past him.

"It's okay, Mr. Greene." She gave him a long look before turning her attention to the children who ran in from the back yard to greet her.

John went upstairs to finish getting ready. By the time he and his wife came downstairs, Rachel was busy playing with the children in the living room. He noticed that she had put on a cardigan that made her clothes look considerably more conservative. Was that for his wife's benefit? Was she just trying to mess with him?

His wife was already out the door as John turned to give Rachel her final instructions. "We'll be back after eleven sometime. Is that okay?"

"Of course," Rachel replied, giving John a huge smile. "Um...would it be okay if you could give me a ride home? My car isn't running and my mom gave me a ride over here."

"Yes. That would be fine." John wondered if he could drive without sneaking glances over at her chest on the way to her house.

The opera was every bit as boring as John imagined it would be. He tried to put his arm around his wife a couple of times as they watched, but she brushed his hand off and gave him a look that told him how inappropriate he was being. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time she smiled at him, or laughed with him. He couldn't remember the last time they'd had a conversation that didn't entail her bitching at him for something.

He had been resigned to his fate for a while now. The marriage wasn't all bad and there had been glimmers of hope that it might get better and then of course there were the children. They had tried counseling, but his wife wouldn't do any of the actual work once they got home. She refused to talk to him about any of the issues that were raised in their sessions. She had the opinion that she was right about everything and wasn't open to the chance that she could be wrong. He found himself thinking about Rachel during the opera and cursing himself for his thoughts.

At last the show was over. "That was an excellent performance, don't you think?" his wife asked as they made their way out to the car. "Much better than that awful Foo Fighters rubbish you listen to."

John thought it better to keep his thoughts to himself, and they drove home in silence. Why did she have to throw that little barb at him? As they pulled into the driveway, he reminded Kathy that he had to give Rachel a ride home.

Kathy snorted and then told him that he better not forget to pay her and not to wake her up when he got back. She grabbed her coat and went into the house in front of him, said a quick good-night and thank you to Rachel and disappeared up the stairs.

John followed her in the door, fished some cash out of his pocket and handed it to Rachel. She was just slipping on her flip-flops and smiling at him. She wasn't wearing her cardigan.

"How were the kids?"

"They were perfect angels, just like always."

"No problems?"

"Of course not, Mr. Greene," she said. "They love me and you know that I love them."

John thought that an odd response. "Well...you know we both adore you and thank you for watching them. Kathy was exhausted or she would have told you herself."

"Oh, there's no need to apologize for her, Mr. Greene," Rachel answered.

That was another strange response. John was tired, though and didn't let his mind linger on it. "Are you ready?"

"Oh, yes. I'm totally ready." Rachel grinned at him.

John tried not to stare. Was she thrusting her chest out further on purpose? Her flat stomach was showing between the bottom of her shirt and her tight pants. John wondered if she was ever able to tuck her shirts in.

John looked away and opened the door letting Rachel exit first. They got in the car and John started the long drive to Rachel's house. She had been their babysitter for the past three years and that first year, Kathy and John took turns driving her home. It had been awhile since John had been alone in the car with her and he was having trouble finding something to say.

Rachel saved him the trouble. "How was the opera Mr. Greene?"

John could feel her gaze on him. "Oh it was fine," he lied. "Well, Kathy enjoyed it a lot more than I did."

"I bet," Rachel replied. "I'm sure you would have been much happier at a Foo Fighters or Def Tones concert."

"How...really...you like the Foo Fighters?" he asked, wondering how she had come to mention two of his favorite bands.

"Yes. I love both of them, and I know you do too. You're really funny."

"I try," John replied, feeling out of some kind of loop.

"I was looking through your CDs on the stereo," Rachel finished, laughing. "You always get nervous around me."

There, she had said it. Rachel had come out with one of those cold hard truths that most people don't talk about openly.

"Don't say that. I...I don't," John fumbled over his words. Who was the adult here?

"I'm just kidding with you. You're turning all red by the way," she replied.

John knew that he was turning red. This conversation was making it hard to concentrate on driving up the winding country road to Rachel's house. A flash of movement to one side, caught his eye and he realized he should have been paying more attention to the road.

A deer darted out from the trees and in front of John's car. He barely had time to brake and steer to avoid it. He managed to miss the deer but slid his car off of the road and into some brush on the side. Rachel screamed as the car came to a stop.

John's heart was racing. He reached across to grab Rachel's arm and accidentally brushed one of her enormous boobs.

"Oh, my fucking God!" she exclaimed, breathing hard and looking over at John.

"Are you okay?" he asked, staring into her big blue eyes.

"Yes," Rachel mouthed, without making a sound, staring back so hard at John that it almost hurt him to turn away.

John's eyes drifted down to Rachel's heaving chest as she fought to control her breathing. It was mesmerizing.

"We're okay," John said, lifting his gaze back to her eyes.

He squeezed her hand a little too hard. "We're okay," he said again.

Rachel nodded and squeezed back. Her little hand felt so warm and her skin felt electric against his.

John pulled his hands away as if they were burned.

"Let's see if I can get us out of here." He looked away from her, placing all of his concentration onto restarting the car. John was certain that if he had kept gazing into Rachel's eyes and squeezing her hands, he would have leaned over and kissed her, or more.

John got the car started and back on the road, resuming the trip. He found himself driving insanely fast even after their little mishap.

"Please, slow down," Rachel requested timidly, not looking at him this time.

His body was coursing with adrenalin, as much from Rachel as from the near accident. John took a deep breath, forcing himself to slow down. He got them both there in one piece. Rachel got out of the car and came around to the driver's side, motioning for John to lower the window. John sat there looking at her through the glass for a few seconds before finally lowering it. Rachel tilted her head forward just a little too close. John started to sweat. He couldn't move or say anything.

"Thank you," she said simply, smiling at him and then turned and ran into her house.

It was a long drive home, especially with a raging hard-on. John's house was cold and dark when he got home.

"Just like my fucking life and marriage," John muttered under his breath, as he locked up and went upstairs to bed.

The rest of the weekend was non-descript and Monday came just a little too fast. The following week was a long exercise in de-motivation.

John felt like his whole life was turning into Groundhog Day and the only thing he could think about was his barely-legal baby sitter. For God's sake, she was still in high school! Life used to be so much better and he never used to have deviant thoughts about young girls.

As the weekend approached, John decided that the problem was him. His whole attitude about life and his marriage and his career was the problem. He decided that, thinking about his babysitter was a direct result of his negativity. She was exciting and different. That was all. He would change and with his mental change he could change his life and his marriage and his job and everything else for the better. There had to be a way to break through to Kathy. She wasn't a bitch when he married her. She had changed somehow. He would figure it out and come up with a plan. He wasn't about to give up.

He made up his mind to make a concerted effort to connect with his wife again. Maybe she was cold because he was cold. If he tried hard enough and long enough she would come around again. He bought a dozen roses after work on Friday and made reservations for one of her favorite restaurants for Saturday night. When he got home, Kathy was standing in the foyer with two heavy bags and her hands on her hips.

"It's about time you got home." She glared at him.

"I...are you going somewhere?" He handed her the roses.

"How nice, but they'll be dead before I get home. You've got a black thumb," she said distractedly, throwing them down on the table in the foyer.

"What do you mean? Where are you going? You know I have to work tomorrow?"

"Yes. I know you have to work. Some of us keep calendars. I'm going to my sister's for a few days."

"Why?"

"She just had surgery this morning."

"I knew that," John lied. He had forgotten all about it. "Is she okay? I didn't think you were going down there though."

"I wasn't, but she called and really needs me. I called Rachel already and she'll be here before you go to work tomorrow. I've got to go. The kids are in doing their homework. No sugar this weekend. I should be back by Tuesday evening."

Then, without a goodbye or a parting good wish, Kathy was out the door.

"Well shit." John stared after her for a moment and then went in to see the kids.

John and the kids had a great night, playing the Wii and eating way too much sugar filled food and candy. It was the best night they had together in months. He hated to admit it, but he thought it was probably because Kathy was gone. She hardly ever seemed to have fun anymore.

The next morning John woke up late. The alarm hadn't gone off or maybe he just forgot to set it. Usually Kathy reminded him. "Damn her," John muttered as he ran into the shower. He threw on some clothes and ran down the stairs. He was immediately greeted to the scent of eggs and bacon wafting from the kitchen.

"What? How?"

"Oh there you are, sleepy head." Rachel leaned out of the kitchen doorway. "We thought we heard you coming down the stairs." She held out a cup of coffee to him.

"Uh...good morning Rachel," John said, taking the coffee. "I forgot you were coming over. I guess Kathy gave you a key?"

"No silly. I know where you guys keep the extra key outside. So I came early and decided you could use a good hot breakfast. That's yours at the table. Hurry up and eat so you aren't late."

"Wow. Thank you," John said sitting down at the table and digging in. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten a hot breakfast at home. Kathy just decided one day that she was done cooking.

The kids had already finished and were in the family room watching cartoons. John stood up and grabbed his briefcase and jacket. "I'm not sure how late I'll be Rachel," he said.

"That's no problem. Stay as late as you need to. We'll be fine."

"I'll call and order you a pizza if I'm going to be really late." John was now awake enough to really look at Rachel. She was wearing another skin tight t-shirt and he could see the outline of her nipples poking out. She wasn't wearing a bra. Shit!

Rachel laughed. Had she caught him glancing at her chest? John started to turn red.

"Don't worry about pizza, Mr. Greene. I'll cook something up. Just let me know when you'll be home. I love to cook, and I've got two really good helpers in there. Say good bye to your dad, guys," she called into the family room.

"Good bye daddy!" two little voices shot out in unison.

John felt a warmth in his chest. This was how family life should be. Then he caught himself...life is what you make it.

"Okay, then," John said. "Dinner's on you, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind," Rachel said, beaming at him. "Have a great day Mr. Greene," she called after him as he walked out the front door.

John turned to her. "Call me John," he said and headed off to work.

John put in almost a full day of work finishing up his quarterly reports. He would be happy if he never saw another spreadsheet or SQL query for the rest of his life. When it was nearly six, he called Rachel and let her know that he was on his way home.

"That's great, John," Rachel said. "Dinner will be hot and ready when you get in."

"Wow. You really are good," he said. "Thanks again. You didn't really have to cook dinner."

"Yes I did silly," Rachel said, giggling, and then hung up the phone.

John found himself smiling like an idiot when he got off the phone. She had a way of making him feel like an awkward kid fresh out of high school. He had forgotten to ask her if she needed another ride home tonight.

John pulled up to his house about forty minutes later and the door opened up before he had a chance to fish his key out his pocket. "Hi, John,"Rachel smiled at him. "How was your day?" It was really nice to have someone ask about his day for once.

"It was great," he said, meaning it. It felt good to get everything done and not have to worry about someone giving him an attitude when he got home late. "I'm really glad to be home though." That was the truth.

"Well I'm glad you're home too," Rachel said. She reached out to take his briefcase and carried it into the house.

John followed her into the house and was greeted by the unmistakable smell of spaghetti and fresh garlic bread.

Rachel placed his briefcase by the stairs and motioned for John to follow her into the kitchen. She had two plates on the table and two glasses of wine as well.

"Thank you. This looks wonderful."

"You're welcome. I'm a little nervous. I'm afraid you won't like it."

The both sat down and started eating.

"Rachel, this is so good. Who taught you how to cook?" John couldn't believe how good it was.

"My mom," she replied. "Well, she started me off, but I absolutely love to cook and I've taken some classes at the community college already."

Rachel picked up her glass of wine and took a big gulp and John snapped back to reality.

"Uh...that might not be a good idea," he said. "I don't want you driving home after drinking and I don't want your parents to think that we're...partying here or something. In fact, you pr

Nothing in Common: Part 3

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (Dawkins Blog) — Thu, 06 Aug 2026 13:29:59 +0000

Nothing in Common: Part 3

An unexpected romance.

Based on a post by Silver Fox Mullet. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Holy shit that was cold! I came up and whooped, and the sound echoed across the lake. It felt So different. Even the bikini I'd worn at the pool, which hardly counted as clothing, kept the water from flowing against a huge number of nerve endings. Nerve endings that connected directly to my libido. Wow. I whooped again, enjoying how the sound carried and how incredible the cold water felt on my nipples and my pussy.

"Good?" he asked.

I nodded and said "Yeah. Wow. Different."

Despite how wonderful it all felt, the water was still really cold, and we were done in less than ten minutes. He'd left a couple of towels hanging on a line by the tent, so we ran up the path and dried ourselves off. That left our clothes down by the shore, so we had to walk back down there to get dressed. I suspect that this was just his way of getting to see me naked a bit longer. Then again, I got to see him too. Did I mention he had a cute butt?

That erection he'd been sporting before jumping in the lake had subsided in the cold water, but it was back now. I watched him tuck himself into his shorts as I got dressed. I wanted to swim naked again before we left. That was pretty awesome.

We went for a paddle around the lake and then fished for supper. He got two of those bass, which I watched him clean. That was a gory and gruesome thing to see. I don't think I'd ever killed anything bigger than a fly, and doubted I could do that myself. True to Devin's word, fresh caught fish was delicious. Nothing like what I'd eaten before. He took more pictures of me eating those poor fish - and liking it.

After dinner we sat around the fire and he got out his guitar. He said this was his 'camp guitar' not his good one, but it sounded fine to me. He played a bunch of songs and I even knew a couple of them and we sang together. When it got dark the moon rose, nearly full, and Devin suggested going for a night swim.

It was more comfortable getting naked in the dark than in broad daylight, and as I waded out into the lake I heard the shutter sound from his cell phone camera. My first reaction was anger. I started to tell him off but he just waved me over and said "Look."

I looked. There was a silhouette of a girl wading into the water where the moon's silver light reflected off the lake in front of her. You couldn't see any details of her body, you couldn't even tell it was me. And it was beautiful. "I want this one printed and framed." he said. I agreed. It was art. We got into the water and swam around a bit. It was glorious. The feeling of the water against parts of me that never got exposed like this was incredible. I wanted to do this again someday. It was like magic. We even heard a loon calling. This time I didn't mind walking around the island naked to get to our towels and get dressed. You couldn't see much and it felt amazing. It was just a little chilly.

And chilly meant building up the camp fire and cuddling in front of it. We talked, like we usually did, about things, lots of things, everything. No, not everything. When we fell silent, I was thinking about how many new things I had done this weekend, and it was only like half over. And about some other new things I wanted to do. Things we had discussed before and agreed not to do, for good reasons.

I sat there, torn by conflicting thoughts and emotions. Finally I had to admit to myself that I wanted him. In my bed. Inside me. Just feeling that want, that need, that was new. I tried to pin down when I had changed my mind, and decided it was when he showed me that picture of me in the moonlight. He had captured a moment in my life, a special moment. And shared it with me. And I wanted more of that. Shared special moments. I knew this was partly my romantic streak, but it was also something Devin and I had built together over the last few months. Trust and sharing.

The Talk.

As the fire burned down I finally worked up the nerve to broach the subject. "Devin, can I ask you something?"

"You just did." he replied with a grin and a nudge.

"No, seriously. We need to talk."

His demeanor changed immediately. 'We need to talk' were the magic words to crush any guy's mood. "Am I in trouble?" he asked.

"Not yet. I'm worried."

"About what?"

"Tonight."

"You're afraid we'll go too far and break the rules we made."

Mister perceptive. "Something like that."

"You know I won't do that to you. Or to us. This weekend is about me showing you new things and sharing the stuff I like, with you. It's not about me getting into your pants."

"I know. I know. It's just... I enjoyed all this so much. Maybe too much. Because now I want more. Lots more."

"I know we joked around about 'first times' and 'virginities' but I was serious when I said I wouldn't take those next steps with you. We agreed."

"We did. But I want more now. I want all of it. I want everything. I want you."

"That's not something we can take back." he said.

"Yeah. I know that too."

"If you're one hundred percent behind this, then I am too."

"Really? Are you sure? I know you said you wanted to wait for the right woman. And that's not me. Not for you anyways."

"Devin. Listen to me. You are an amazing woman. Any guy who doesn't treasure you and worship you is an idiot. If I'm lucky enough to share my first time with you, I will treasure that too, beyond measure. But I have to say it again. I'll wait, if you're not 100 percent ready."

"Like my coach says all the time, 'a hundred and ten percent'."

All this talk had done two things for me. It made me cool off, so my libido wasn't in charge anymore. And it also made me dead certain that I was losing my virginity tonight. I knew I could trust Devin to make it good, to make it special. I just hoped I would make it just as special for him.

When the fire was embers and the cold began to creep in, he suggested we brush our teeth and get ready for bed. Since we had to put the fire out anyways, we spit into it as we brushed. The fire sizzled and steamed, giving off the weird scent of burnt spearmint. After a last trip to the thunderbox, we washed up, and the wash basin was dumped on the fire to finish it off.

We crawled into the tent and Devin turned on the little led lantern. This was it. My stomach was doing loop-the-loops, but it wasn't nervousness now, it was excitement. I was gonna do this. And not in any way I ever imagined, nor with anyone I would have expected. Devin rearranged the sleeping mats and zipped the bags together. Cool. I never knew they did that. Now we had one huge sleeping bag.

"This is why I chose rectangular bags for this trip instead of mummy bags. They won't do this."

"You sneaky dog! You were hoping this would happen!"

"No, I was just being prepared. I was in Scouts too long not to be."

"Okay then, Mister Be Prepared, did you think to bring condoms? Or will we have to wail till we get back to civilization?"

Devin smiled and pulled a pack of condoms out of his bag. "Be prepared" he said.

I laughed and swept my shirt off over my head. Devin followed suit. We'd both been topless numerous times with each other. Make outs were so much better with more skin in the game. I leaned back and started working my shorts and underwear off. We'd been skinny dipping twice today, so we'd finally seen each other naked. That meant this part wasn't such a big step. As that thought crossed my mind I recalled how huge Devin's cock looked. And now that squirrelly feeling in my stomach wasn't so much excitement anymore as fear.

I looked at him as he was on his back pulling the last of his clothing away from his feet. I saw he was hard. I looked down at myself. Damn, how was that supposed to fit down there? I know he said he was 'just average' but now looking across the tent, almost within arm's reach, his -thing- was positively enormous.

I guess he saw me freeze up, because he said "We can just sleep you know. We don't have to do this."

"No, it's okay, I'm just a little nervous. You're so big."

"Thank you. That's quite a confidence booster. But according to the best scientific surveys, I'm pretty close to average."

"What, like, you measured yourself?"

"Well, yeah. I'm a guy. It's kind of a rite of passage."

"And then you looked up the statistics."

"Of course."

"Nerd."

"Guilty as charged."

"I guess I shouldn't laugh, not with my teeny tits. These go unnoticed most of the time, and before you ask, yes I measured them. You need to know this stuff when you're shopping for bras."

"I keep telling you; your tits are awesome. Speaking of which, I want them pressed against me really soon. I'm getting cold sitting here."

I laughed at him again and pulled the sleeping bag open. We scrambled in and cuddled together. I don't know whose feet or hands were colder. We both squawked and complained about each other's extremities. But the naked full body contact was thrilling. I could feel his cock against my stomach as his hands wandered up and down, touching me all over. Oh my god that felt amazing!

We kissed, and the familiarity of making out calmed me down at the same time as it revved me up like crazy. At the start we were on our sides, face to face. After a while Devin was lying on top of me. He was close, so close to me down there. Knocking on heaven's door so to speak. But he didn't do anything but continue our make-out session. That got me even hotter and wetter. I knew by now that teasing was the way to really get me going, and so did Devin.

Soon, we were on our sides again, and his hands reached further and further. Going into unexplored territory. I was doing the same to him too. Touching him in places I had never had access to before. Eventually Devin pulled me on top of him. I started grinding on him, stimulating both of us. That was incredible. Sure, we'd dry-humped each other a few times, but this was so much better! He pulled me up a bit and got me to move my legs, and all of a sudden I was straddling his hips.

Now his cock was splitting my pussy lips. There was no mistaking how wet I was. We could both feel it as I rubbed up and down his shaft. I felt a tingling in my pussy that was both familiar and radically new. I quickly had an orgasm, unlike any I'd had before. My only experience with this was solo stuff, with my fingers. This was so different! Feeling his hardness right there against me, as I ground my clit on him was phenomenal! So much delicious friction between parts of us that had never touched before. It left me shaking and thrashing on top of Devin, out of breath, head spinning, and my desire to continue this was magnified tenfold. I wanted him inside me! Now!

"Where did you put those condoms?"

"Here, let me get them." he said as he gently shifted me off to the side. I laid back and waited. That tingling was still there in my pussy. Sure I was nervous, I'd heard about girls having bad first times, but I knew Devin would be careful, would take care of me. I knew I wouldn't have to worry about my hymen, as that was long gone due to the rough sports I'd played. He rolled back towards me with a packet in his hand. This was it. We were gonna do it.

Then he slid down into the sleeping bag, disappearing from my view. "Devin?"

I heard him growl down there, and suddenly he was touching my pussy. Holy fuck that was so good! I think I made some noise then, but I dunno what it was or how loud or even if it was just in my head. I felt his fingers touching me down there, where they'd never been before. That tingling escalated to a wild coruscation of energy as I came again. This time I knew I made some noise. I'd touched myself before, and yeah, it was nice, but it was nothing like this.

Devin kept going, but it was different now. At first I didn't understand, but then I realized that wonderful feeling was his tongue. I knew he understood the mechanics of sex, as we'd talked about it a bit. All of his knowledge of the opposite sex was theoretical, same as me. And now he was turning that knowledge into experience. A really really good experience! I don't know how much pleasure he was getting from this, but I was on my way to another planet as I came for the third time. That tongue of his was so wet and soft and firm and slippery as it moved around making contact with so many newly discovered nerve endings!

I discovered my hands were tangled in Devin's hair, holding him to my pussy. It's not like I was directing him or anything, I was just holding on for dear life. He kept going, touching me with his lips and tongue and fingers and he was saying something once in a while. I was in no shape to understand or answer him. I think I came a few more times before I lost it completely. I'm pretty sure I was Really loud this time. I think those things I called orgasms before were just tingly preludes to the real thing. An actual orgasm was literally mind-blowing.

I woke up some time later. The tent was dark now, so I guess Devin had shut the light off. I was curled up on my side with him spooned behind me. I wondered what I'd missed. Did we 'do it' or not?

"Devin?" I whispered.

"Hmm."

"What happened?"

"Well, I was busy with some foreplay and apparently it was so boring you fell asleep."

I rolled over to face him. "I did Not fall asleep. I passed out when you made me cum so hard."

He laughed and said "Do you still want to keep going, or was that enough?"

I considered his words. Briefly. Like for half a second. "You still have that condom?"

"Uh huh."

"Then let's go!"

I think he was soft when I woke him up, but in the few seconds we discussed this, he was hard again. He turned on the light and we fumbled around and managed to get the condom in place, then he pulled me on top of him again. "You should be in control the first time, okay?" he suggested.

I was fine with that. At least this was somewhat familiar after what we did earlier. I did the same as before, grinding on him, making those tingles build up higher and higher. His hands were all over me again. Playing with my nipples, touching me, stroking me, caressing me in so many little places. "Oh Fuck!" I said as I came again.

I was panting and shaking as I sat there astride his hips. Looking down I saw that the condom looked different. "Hey, did I get you off?"

"Oh yeah, that was awesome."

"Better get another condom then."

Once more we fumbled around trying to get the used condom off and a new one on without making a mess. He pulled me on top again and this time I reached down to position him against me. Fuck, he felt huge in my hand. How was this supposed to fit? Well, I was wetter than I'd ever been, and those orgasmic tingles were kind of a background hum now, so I pushed myself down on him.

I knew I had him in the right spot, as I was quite familiar with my own plumbing. But there was no getting him inside me. I pushed harder and harder, then suddenly he slipped in. Oh, holy fucking shit! It felt like he was splitting me wide open. I froze there, leaning on his chest, panting and shivering. That's when I felt him twitch. Which made me giggle, and he slipped in a bit further. That made me gasp as the feelings inside me kind of went boom.

Now the splitting feeling waned and this intense stuffed-full-of-cock sensation made itself known to me. That was new, and totally unexpected. He twitched again and I pulled back and pushed down once more. The tingling came back, feeling ten times better with him inside of me. I started moving up and down some more and it kept getting better and better. Soon I was bouncing on him, and those tingles were close to gaining explosive power. When I bottomed out and my clit started bumping into him I came hard.

I thought my earlier orgasms were the pinnacle of awesomeness, but nope. I could feel my pussy squeezing him, and all those nerve endings were lit up like a sparking Christmas tree inside me. On and on it went, until I found myself lying on top of Devin, out of breath like I'd just run the 440. He was cradling me in his arms, and nuzzling my neck. And he was still inside me, hard and throbbing and urgent.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Uh huh. You?"

"Oh yeah."

"You wanna keep going?" I asked him.

"As long as you want."

"I want. Can we roll over? My legs are cramping up."

When we tried to roll over he slipped out, and the sudden loss of him inside me was a shock and a disappointment. I think I moaned or something, because he laughed and tried to get himself back in place pretty quickly. Of course he missed. And missed again. And again, and again, until we were both laughing uncontrollably. I finally had to reach down between us and guide him.

And he was such a tight fit. I expected it to be tight the first time, but kind of thought it would get easier after that. No way. Between us, we managed to push and shove and work him inside me. He may have been a really tight fit, but it felt amazing. And when he started actually fucking me, holy shit, my world went wild. There was something about having him between my legs, with his weight on top of me, his arms around me, that just amplified what I'd felt earlier.

I came, and came again, and was almost ready for another explosion when he stopped and sagged onto me. I wrapped my arms around him and humped up into him to finish off what I was so close to. This one was different, because Devin's dead weight was heavy on me, and his breath was hot and fast against my neck.

We lay there, sweating, hearts hammering, wrapped up in each other's arms. "Wow." I said.

"Huh. Yah, wow." mumbled Devin.

"You're getting heavy."

"Sorry." he said as he pushed himself up. Then he reached down and eased himself out of me. That empty feeling returned, something I'd never known until he'd filled me for the first time. He got rid of the condom and we cuddled together once more. I knew we'd have to talk about this, but not tonight. Tonight was just us, together, as together as two people could get. My last thought as I fell asleep was that I was in love.

Morning came,

and I wanted Devin again. Based on his very quick reaction to my suggestion, he wanted me too. But the damned thunderbox was calling louder than our libidos. And we were both starving, plus I was a little sore from last night's unaccustomed activity. And yes, we needed to talk. So, instead of making love again, we got dressed, went to the bathroom, and started breakfast.

After we ate, we sat by the shore and just watched the lake for a while.

"You want to talk about last night?" he asked.

"Yeah. Time to talk." I sighed.

"You sound worried."

"I am worried."

"About what?"

"Us. Me. You."

He didn't say anything, he just waited. That was one of the things I liked about Devin. He was patient. He knew I wanted to talk, but he also knew that I need to think about stuff before I talk about it.

"I'm in love with you Devin." I said quietly.

"I love you, too." he said. My heart leapt in my chest. I looked at him and smiled.

"Life is going to get so complicated now." I told him.

"Maybe so. Life might also get better, too."

We sat together for a while. Then he said "When did you know?"

"When you showed me that picture you took of me in the moonlight in the water. How about you?"

"When you passed out while I was licking you."

"Really? Geeze Devin, you better come up with something more romantic. When people ask you when you fell in love with me, you can't tell them that."

"You really wanna know when I fell in love with you?"

I nodded.

&qu