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Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: Second Best
Part: 052
Universe: Second Best
Summary: A fulllength novel that follows several young couples and their
families through the period immediately preceding their Senior Prom.
Keywords: MF oral

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Chapter 52
Saturday afternoon/evening: the Nellis'

Rick arrived home a bit after noon, and had chores to take care of.
His father was out playing golf, and Dina had apparently gone to the garage
to supervise Bobby's efforts to repair his junker. When Rick throttled back
at about 3:30, he noticed that his mother was going about her activities
with a somewhat distracted manner. Finally, Marilyn entered the den, where
Rick was watching the ball game while sipping a Coke, and sat down. When
she had his attention, Marilyn announced, "I need an opinion from you."

"About what, Mum?"

"Merry. I'm thinking about staying Merry staying a slave all of
the time."

"Hmmm. What happens when the 'new' wears off?" Rick asked. "It's not
something you just blow off, after you've gone that far. Right now, you
ultimately control whether you will be a slave, and when. If you submit
permanently, your Master CAN'T allow you to change your mind, just because
the going gets tough. In fact, he's likely to MAKE it tough mastery has
to be exercised periodically."

Marilyn looked thoughtful.

"It'll interfere with your life 'outside', too. Your job, for
instance. Even if he chooses to maintain the fiction for strangers, what
will you do the first time he calls and says 'Come home, now!' in the middle
of a business meeting? Will you walk out? Possibly lose your job?"

"I I..." Marilyn stammered.

"Mandi and I are taking this route, and it's a compromise. I HAVE to
allow her a certain amount of autonomy, whether either of us likes it or
not! You have roles that you can't shuck, like your parental authority.
Your master can disregard it's implications for a short while but believe
me, if he gives you to me to fuck, it will change our relationship! How
much parental authority do you think you can exercise while being taken
doggiestyle?"

Marilyn blushed. "You two are too old to herd, anyway."

"True, but my point is that doing it all the time will tend to dilute
the experience. For discrete periods of time, your master can create a
bubble from within which you can be stripped of all rights and
responsibilities but he can't do it indefinitely."

"So you don't think I should do it?"

"I didn't say that. What I AM saying is that if you do, you might
wake up one morning and discover that your life hasn't changed all that
much."

"Surely my master wouldn't allow that!"

"Maybe not. But HE'S learning, too. What if ultimately, he just
can't deal with it? I'm having problems the whole thing goes against my
philosophy. I'm trying to formulate a case to cover it, but... " Rick shook
his head.

"If it helps, Dear, remember this is a special case. It's not
entrapment, or capture for sale, or anything like that. We submit of our
own free will, knowing that we will be tested. The unknown challenges are a
part of the draw, in fact. The suspense is arousing."

Rick examined his mother for a moment, then raised another point.
"You realize that you risk your master making your submission permanent
every time you submit? Your operational model says that YOU submit, but HE
ends your period of submission. What if he doesn't? What if he makes up
your mind for you? And if you're thinking 'Oh, he wouldn't do that!' THEN
YOU DON'T GET IT!!"

Marilyn frowned and shook her head, "What? What do you mean?"

"Mum, it's simple. If you place that kind of power in his hands, he
MUST use it! If he doesn't, you will eventually lose respect for him! You
WILL be the target of abuse and humiliation, because if you are not, he
cannot maintain control over you. Think about it what part of all this is
the most important to you? Are you sure you have to submit to get it?
Better figure it out..."

The doorbell rang, and Marilyn went to get it, discovering Mandi at
the door. They returned to the den, and Mandi settled on the arm of the
couch nearest Rick, and leaned into him. Rick was mildly surprised they
hadn't made a date. "Hi, Sweetheart need something?"

Mandi smiled and pressed her torso against his side, "Only you, Love."

Rick patted he couch. "Come around this side." He obtained approval
from Marilyn with his eyes, then addressed Mandi, "My mother and I are
discussing her relationship with her master. I'm trying to lay out the
risks and benefits. The risks are pretty clear to me, but the benefits
aren't. I'm trying to get her to take a good look at what she's getting out
of it."

Marilyn gazed at Mandi, "Why did you submit as you did, Dear? Why be
property, when you can be an equal?"

Mandi smiled, "It was a gift. Just giving Rick my heart wasn't enough
I needed to give him everything. Oh, I trust him to do right by me, but
this gives him the freedom to be unconventional about it. This way, I can
allow Rick to use me as he wishes. I don't worry about him destroying me
only a fool destroys something of value to them, out of hand. And the only
way he can destroy me is to dismiss me!"

Marilyn pondered this. "This all seems kind of lowkey, consensual.
Don't you need for him to demonstrate his mastery?"

"Why? Rick knows I will do anything he asks if I don't, it's MY
failure that puts our relationship at risk. My life is simple: all I have
to do is make Rick happy! I don't have to worry about modesty, or rules of
behavior, or morality, or whether I'm getting as much as he's getting, or
what's fair and what isn't all of these things are Rick's problems, and I
trust him to handle them; all I have to concentrate on is making Rick
happy."

Marilyn was pensive. "You're very brave. The possibilities for abuse
in this relationship..."

Mandi nodded, "It's not for everyone. Ultimately, I trust Rick not to
do anything actively evil to me. I think I'm safe in doing this. Don't
you?"

Marilyn turned her gaze on Rick. "Yeah, I think you're safe."

Mandi continued, "It's still a risk, but I believe that it is an
acceptable one. In fact, I've bet my life on it!"

Marilyn continued to ponder. "This is interesting, and it rings some
bells, but..."

Mandi smiled gently at the older woman. Suddenly SHE was the older,
wiser head. "...But it's not the nature of your relationship with YOUR
master."

"No."

"May I?" Marilyn nodded, and Mandi continued, "You have different
needs, and they demand more of your master. I see you as very repressed.
You worry about what others think of you. You have these Victorian ideas of
personal conduct. You probably seldom masturbate, and cannot possibly touch
yourself during sex. It embarrasses you to make noises, or to tell your
lover what feels good. You lack the courage to explore your fantasies, or
even admit that you have any."

"This sets a different pattern for you. First, your master must exert
his dominance over you in a convincing manner. Then he frees you to
experience your sexuality by directing you to respond to him. Being a
slave, you are no longer responsible for your actions; if your master wants
you to act like a slut, it's HIS fault and you can be wanton without
guilt. Am I getting warm here?"

"I'm afraid you're exactly right," Marilyn admitted ruefully.

"Rick is right," Mandi continued, "This means that he MUST humiliate
you, regularly, to enforce his control over your mind. Then you can do the
most outlandish things without guilt, because you are performing for your
master. Unfortunately, your master must continuously 'up the ante', adding
new dimensions of control over you. Eventually your friends, your
acquaintances, your colleagues even people on the street will know you
for the slave you are, because your master cannot ONLY abuse you in private.
I don't know how long it will take but your old persona will not survive
if you submit permanently. If you keep it in the closet, it could take
decades before your external relationships are significantly impacted; if
you choose to live this way, it could happen very quickly. What would
happen, for instance, if he sent you to the grocery, nude?"

"I'd be arrested," Marilyn replied, "That's obvious."

"True." Mandi grinned. "But you're not thinking. What if your
master decided that being arrested for public nudity was an acceptable
punishment for some infraction on your part? It's his responsibility, but
YOU would pay the price!"

Marilyn gulped. What a horrible scenario! On the other hand, why was
she becoming aroused, thinking about it?

"See? These things are seldom as simple as they seem, initially. Two
minutes' thoughtlessness on the part of your master could conceivably end
your life. Do you think that you would be working for your law firm the
next week?"

"Nno." Marilyn was shaken.

"Bringing you humiliation by exposing your status to other people who
you interact with is a powerful tool in the hands of your master. How long
will it be before he wields it?"

II don't know..."

"After a fashion, he already has. Remember Thursday night? He
exposed you to ME!" Mandi grinned fiercely.

"Maybe we could make a deal..." Marilyn began.

"NO!" Rick burst out, "Don't fool yourself. There ARE no deals! He
can't afford to honor them and, frankly, ultimately you won't either!
Your form of slavery is not the comfortable one that Mandi and I enjoy.
Your slavery is uncomfortable by design, and must remain so for it to work.
Your master will have to use every tool within his grasp to keep you happy
and meekly subservient."

Marilyn got up and walked to the door. In a distracted voice, she
said, "Thanks. You've both given me a lot to think about!"

Rick turned and supped from Mandi's lips. "Are you staying the
night?"

"Yes." He drew her in closer, and began to absently stroke her cheek.


Robert returned from golf to find Marilyn on the couch in the living
room, shaking like a leaf. Crossing to sand over her, he asked, "What's
wrong, Hon?"

Marilyn looked up at her husband, "I had a talk with Mandi and Rick
about slavery, and what they told me has me scared as Hell."

Robert nodded soberly, "Good. This thing is serious business, and
we're playing with fire."

"Unfortunately, it also aroused the Hell out of me."

Robert frowned, "You know, you don't really have a basis for
comparison. We haven't had 'regular sex' since this thing started." Robert
raised his hands and crooked his finger to provide the quote marks around
the words.

Marilyn shrugged. "No time like the present..." She stood up, and
Robert took her hand and led her upstairs. Once shucked out of her skirt
and blouse, Marilyn gave ample evidence of her arousal, so Robert skipped a
couple of steps in their accustomed foreplay, assuming correctly that the
pattern needed breaking, anyway. He lavished attention on her breasts,
which brought satisfying gasps of pleasure from her. Then, tickling her
with his tongue en route, he shifted his attention to her labia and
clitoris, licking up and down the inner lips and sending teasing shots at
the sensitive bud. Marilyn very obviously enjoyed the attention, gasping
and moaning, and gripping handfuls of the bedclothes but 15 minutes' worth
of this attention went unrewarded, with the exception of a sore tongue and
puffy lips. Marilyn attained a plateau that Robert couldn't seem to break
through; while she was very obviously enjoying the attention, climax seemed
to be denied her. Robert shrugged, and brought out the fall back plan a
vibrator and achieved success, as Marilyn convulsed in short order when he
applied it along her welllubricated slit. Nonetheless, he was mildly
irritated; didn't just the opposite happen Thursday evening?

Upon her recovery, Marilyn offered to return the favor. She sat on
the edge of the bed, and Robert stood to bring his penis to her. Marilyn
began working and it was a creditable effort but Robert found it to be
lackadaisical, and had to restrain himself from adjusting her depth and
tempo using a hand on the back of her head. He was feeling 'way too many
teeth, and needed the distraction of playing with Marilyn's breasts to help
him reach his peak. As she felt his balls draw up preparatory to his
ejaculation, Marilyn backed off and jacked him, causing him to shoot onto
her breasts. "Why did you do that?" he asked.

Marilyn responded, "Oh, I thought it might be different; besides, that
way I didn't have to swallow the stuff." The latter comment was seriously
unwelcome, but Robert overlooked the insult, figuring that he was being
oversensitive. Marilyn looked up, "Can you go again? I'd like to have you
in me." Robert nodded, but the next few minutes were somewhat embarrassing
as his cock was slow to harden. Still, Marilyn lavished more onagain off
again oral attention upon it, and it eventually began to rise.

When he was again stiff, Marilyn hopped up on the bed and assumed a
supine position. 'Missionary style again,' Robert grunted to himself, but
shrugged philosophically and climbed between her legs. Unfortunately, old
habits took over, and Marilyn began controlling his depth of penetration by
not lifting her legs. Robert worked with it, but it was a seriously pushup
type position, demanding a lot of stamina. Marilyn got plenty of
stimulation at the vaginal opening and across her clitoris due to Robert's
almost vertical position, but Robert had a tough time. Not being able to
achieve any depth of penetration made it difficult to maintain an erection,
and the position demanded that he work without the benefit of having his
knees to support him. About four minutes in, Marilyn tightened up, hunched
her pelvis toward Robert 4 or 5 times while her eyes rolled up, then went
totally slack. Robert found himself in a position where, if he wanted to
work really hard at it, he could masturbate himself with the ring of muscle
at Marilyn's vaginal opening. But he was already wasted and having
difficulty maintaining. Angered, he collapsed across her, then immediately
rolled off.

As he sat up on the edge of the bed, Marilyn opened her eyes and
asked, "Dear, would you bring me a towel please?"

Robert contained MOST of his anger, and growled, "Why? You don't need
one..." Then he got up and stormed off. Marilyn, for whom the exercise had
been reasonably successful, lay there, blinking and trying to determine what
had happened. In the bathroom, Robert looked down at his sticky chest and
realized that despite the fact that she wouldn't need to contain semen
running from her vagina, there was still the stuff on her chest, took a
towel, and after cleaning himself somewhat, tossed it at her on the way
downstairs.

Ten minutes later, he was still fuming as, dressed in sweatpants and a
T shirt, he plopped into his recliner with a beer in his hand.

Rick eyed him from the couch, "What's the matter, Pop?"

"I ought to keep her as a slave! Every time I try to treat her as an
equal, the lazy little cunt takes advantage of me! Selfish, greedy little
bitch!"

Rick cracked up. When he could breathe again, he said, "So figured
that out, have you?"

Mandi looked puzzled. Robert groused, "I always knew it but I
figured that it's just the way things are."

"Well, guess what, Pop? This thing has changed YOU, too!"

Robert grinned ruefully. "I guess it has. I never thought that I
really had the power to change the status quo around here..."

Mandi piped up, "I don't understand..."

Rick waved his arm at their surroundings, "What do you see?"

Mandi glanced around, "Some nice stuff..." Actually, the place was
kind of crowded...

"A LOT of stuff. REALLY NICE stuff. REALLY EXPENSIVE stuff. Mum
has Cadillac tastes, and Pop works 50 hours a week to pay for it. Mum
works, too but she didn't, until redoing the kitchen required a second
mortgage. Mum tends to want it NOW, and it's had its impact on things like
retirement, and college money..." Robert flinched, and Rick eyeballed him.
"I used to overhear their 'discussions' on the subject before Pop gave up
and let her have her way. Now he just grumbles while he pays the bills..."

"And what do I get for it?" Robert snarled.

"Blue balls?" Rick chortled.

"Hmmph. Among other things."

Rick turned his attention back to Mandi. "Pop doesn't generally
complain he's the responsible type, so he just sucks it up. Dina's just
as bad or worse due to Mum's influence and her personality. I've
watched it for years, and tried not to be part of the problem but
everybody wants stuff..."

"Aw, let's forget the whole thing!" Robert asserted. "I don't like
to air the dirty laundry..."

"...In front of strangers? Mandi's NOT a stranger and I think it's
instructive." Turning to Mandi, he announced, "If you develop a habit of
doing ME like that, one fine day I'll spank your ass and put you on the
street naked!" Rick's voice started out normal, but rose to a full
throated roar. Mandi cringed, but Rick resumed in a more normal tone "Not
that I think you would..." She snuggled up again, diffidently. Robert
looked on with amusement. Why couldn't HE have found one like that?

When Marilyn came downstairs a few minutes later, nothing was said,
and all appeared normal. Mandi sat there waiting for the bomb to go off
but it didn't happen. When Marilyn asked him about dinner, Robert's
response was perfectly reasonable in fact, he indicated that she shouldn't
do anything involved, but rather enjoy her evening. Slowly, it dawned upon
Mandi that she had seen a seldom discovered crack in the Nellis family's
serenity one that might have taken several years to expose itself to her,
if ever.

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Saturday, July 31, 2004

 

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Friday, July 30, 2004

 

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EXPOSITORY NOTE FOR MY CHILDREN. By Gemma Puddle. This is a work of pure
fiction and bears no relation to past, present or future events,
personalities or reality. Readers who are under 18, or who may find the
purely imaginary and unreal portrayal of sexual relations disturbing, are
advised and admonished in the strongest terms to read no further. If there
is a message in this story it is probably a warning.



Mr Carter, who has charge of our affairs, has convinced me that there
are facts relevant to the entail of our properties and to your ancestry
that should be set out in writing by me. As a notary public, he will take
my oath as to the truth of what I write. As our attorney, he will keep the
document secret until and unless you or your descendants have need of it.

From the earliest period of my life, I have a recollection of the
marriage of my father to our dear stepmother, then Miss Diana Struthers. I
was just four years of age at the time, and your Uncle Bernard was two. We
lived at Heath House. The house belonged to my father's cousin, Sir Peter,
who made it available to us because our father was his heir. I recall Sir
Peter as the outstanding figure at that wedding, large and hearty, making
much of my brother and of me. Our family stayed with him at Leveret Park
every Christmas and every August. If we went to London, we stayed at the
old family house, since given up, off Piccadilly.

Sir Peter had quarrelled with Lady Elizabeth a few days after their
marriage. They lived apart. Mrs. Anders acted as his hostess. She was
not received in society, but was very close to our stepmother. Mrs Anders
was very warm and affectionate to Bernard and I, and equally so to our
halfsisters Virginia, and later Matilda. Our stepmother's sister, Aunt
Teresa, often made a third at their tea parties. Our three cousins, Janet,
Katherine and Lucy overlapped in ages with our halfsisters.

To leave this affectionate existence in the bosom of my family to go
away to school at Eton College was a shock to me. It was during my third
term there that Sir Peter died, and my father succeeded as Sir John. I
returned from school to Leveret Park. Our stepmother and Mrs Anders were
much as usual, though in mourning clothes. They now managed the house
together.

The older boys at Eton had instructed me. I soon realised that the
young footman who had been promoted to being our father's assistant valet
earned his keep in father's bed, rather than by assisting Jenkins.
Nonetheless, it was a surprise to see, when looking under a door that was
unexpectedly locked, our father with the chaplain's tool in his arse while
taking Robin's in his mouth. I thought then that I apprehended the cause
of our having only two halfsisters.

For this account to be clear and straightforward, I must touch on my own
tastes as well as those of my father. Despite some not unpleasant
experiences with both older and younger boys at Eton, my interest was and
is fixed in female attractions. Paid girls are the common resort of such
youthful spirits as I, but they soon came to seem tawdry and uninteresting.

At the age of seventeen, I took a step which every moralist will view as
utterly reprehensible, but which I have never regretted. I set myself to
teach my twelve year old halfsister Ginnie the joys of mutual
masturbation, of the employment of our mouths and tongues to please one
another, and finally about the pleasuring of the anus. We both knew that
she must remain a virgin, but in every other way she proved a willing, apt
and responsive pupil. It was at her suggestion that I introduced our
cousin Janet to the same practices, and trained her in their enjoyment.
Janet used to discover good reasons why she should come and stay with us
for months together.

After a year and a half of carnal pleasures and contentment, Ginnie and
Janet informed me that it was time to initiate Matty and Kate. I was just
nineteen, and thanked them both solidly and vigorously for these additional
birthday gifts. Matty and Kate were so nearly of an age, and so alike one
another, that they had several times exchanged identities with one another
for a day as a piece of childish funning. The elder girls and I started
joint lessons for the two of them. I recall clearly that I brought both to
climaxes on our third afternoon, but their likeness is such that I am quite
unable to tell which of them is the one in my memory with my semen splashed
on her breasts on that occasion. Each claims it was she.

The full satisfaction of four females soon proved to be even beyond my
youthful capacity: an experience which incidentally revealed to me the
falseness of the Mohamettan teaching on marriage. Fortunately, when he
returned from Eton that summer, your Uncle Bernard was more than happy to
share the masculine part with me. It was a happy time as I, and following
me your Uncle Bernard, found our footing as grown men, and the girls grew
up to an age when they could be launched in society.

Your Aunts Virginia and Janet came out in successive seasons. Bernard
and I squired them through the season's events, and heartily approved of
the suitors they each accepted. We took our farewells as we thought of
them two nights before each wedding. In Ginnie's case, I experienced a
delightful ejaculation in her arse at the same time as Bernard achieved his
climax in her mouth. For Janet, we each took the other part. Both your
aunts went to their husbands as virgins, but as women with a full and well
founded confidence in their ability to satisfy and please a man's body.

In the next season, Matilda and Katherine were launched together. Their
very likeness gave them an eclat, as their mothers hoped. The difference
in my feelings for the two whom appeared so similar was soon borne in on
me. I was deeply and immovably jealous of Matty's suitors, but treated
Kate's just as I had those who dangled after Ginnie and Janet. It was a
day in May when Matty and I walked in the Park and confessed that we were
deep in love with one another. When we returned to the house, Kate
understood without a word said. Our absolute despair began to lighten when
she said that she had seen it coming. Matty and she would simply have to
exchange identities permanently. There was, of course, no legal or
religious objection to "Kate" and I marrying.

And so it came to pass. Katherine managed all the arrangements. Your
Aunt Virginia was persuaded to invite all of us to her new house in August,
without our seniors. Matty and Kate found reasons to dismiss both their
personal maids. From the moment that we arrived at your Aunt Virginia's,
when she carefully greeted Matilda as Kate and Katherine as Matty, the
girls exchanged identities. They each wore the other's clothes. None of
Virginia's servants noticed our occasional slip in using the old names. I
wrote a letter to Kate's father, Uncle Samuel, saying that I would call
upon him to ask for his daughter's hand.

We thought that we had deceived everyone successfully until we met my
stepmother, Mrs Anders and Aunt Teresa at Leveret Park. They
congratulated us on our cleverness, but confessed that they knew, of
course; as they also had known for years of our loving attentions to each
other's genital parts. Our only consolation was that they let slip that
they had planned for the possibility that Matty might be increasing by
then. She was still a virgin.

They called in our father and Uncle Samuel, and had us listen to an
explanation of our parentage. When our stepmother gently told me and
Bernard that Mrs Anders was our real mother; she had not died as we had
been told at the time of Bernard's birth; the shocking surprise to us was
also in a degree natural. We had always looked on Mrs Anders as nearly our
mother. Our father explained. Sir Peter, with his failed marriage to Lady
Elizabeth, could have no legitimate children. None the less, he craved a
son to be his heir to the entailed estate. Our father himself was the
legal heir if Sir Peter did not have a legitimate son, but he himself was
not sufficiently attracted to women to be likely to have sons of his own.
Therefore Sally Anders, who was in love with Sir Peter, had legally married
our father so that Sir Peter could beget sons by her who would inherit.
Myself and your Uncle Bernard were the result. Mrs Anders' "death" as our
father's wife had been legally established with false certificates and a
funeral, so that she could go back to Sir Peter. She had changed her name,
her colour of hair and her style of dress, and no questions had arisen.

Diana, our stepmother, had long been a friend of our mother. She was
taken with the idea of mothering us motherless boys. She well knew that
her marriage to our father was bigamous in law, but thought that was of
little importance as she expected to bear no children. To their mutual
surprise, our father and she had pleased one another sufficiently to
conceive Ginnie. Our stepmother had also found a role helping her sister
to keep Uncle Samuel satisfied. The reason Matty and Kate resemble one
another so closely is that they have the same real father as well as
mothers who are sisters. Aunt Teresa and Diana dropped into what was
evidently an old disagreement about whether the girls were actually
conceived on the same night of Uncle Samuel's birthday, or on different
occasions.

The upshot of this account, as it affected Matilda and me, was that we
were legitimate brother and sister in the eyes of society, in law
illegitimate halfbrother and sister, and in fact not related by blood. It
was Katherine, appearing as Matty, who first burst out in laughter. None
of us could resist following her example. Our father, for so I still term
him, then had Robin serve us with champagne. We toasted all our pasts, and
then most seriously toasted our futures.

All our seniors were agreed that Katherine must remain Matilda, and
Matty, Kate. I put it to our father and Uncle Samuel that they must settle
it amongst themselves unto whom I should apply for my "Kate's" hand, but
please to decide the matter without delay. It was possible that by evening
my Kate would be expecting a child. To my surprise, your Uncle Bernard
stepped forward at that point hand in hand with Lucy, and asked if she was
indeed Uncle Samuel's daughter. When Aunt Theresa replied "Yes, of
course", Bernard requested permission to ask for Lucy's hand. Even though
she was only seventeen, she also might be in interesting condition by
dinner time.

Lucy jumped into his arms and wrapped her youthful legs around his trunk
in a most shameless manner, saying "Oh do let him ask, pater. If you do, I
promise I won't say yes or let him into my quim until nearly the end of my
season. It will be such fun keeping him on a string." Aunt Teresa and
Diana caught each other's eye, to the utter ruin of the severity of their
countenances. They giggled like naughty schoolgirls.

Uncle Samuel whiffled for a moment. Then he said with asperity. "You
are a younger son, Bernard, with his way to make in the world. If you have
to squire that chit for the best part of a year, I do not suppose that you
will be able to keep your mind on business, should I take you into the bank
as I intended. If you and she are set on one another, my advice is to take
her upstairs straight away and tup her until she gets a baby." Your Uncle
Bernard replied ""My dearest wish is that Lucy will settle down with me,
sir. I think that will be easier and sweeter after she has had her season
in society. So with your permission, until she is ready to give up her
virginity, I will continue to pleasure myself and her in other ways." Our
father laughed again, a laugh echoed by Robin to his immediate
embarrent. " He has been licking and buggering her for four years to
my knowledge, Samuel. Best leave it at that until they are ready." "Very
well, John. So be it. Will you join Theresa Diana and I in bed to sort
out Alan's problem of who is his bride's official father?" "And bring
Robin, John. He is sweet," said Diana.

After dinner, they made me ask for your mother's hand through Robin, as
spokesman for the two of them. Once it was established that I had indeed
taken "Kate's" virginity before dinner, Robin on their behalf laid down an
extraordinary "penal" condition of their consent. I must allow my father,
Uncle Samuel and Robin himself regular access to my bride's arse until the
wedding. Your mother laughed, and said it must be Robin first. If he, who
really was not interested in women could do it, then her father and Uncle
Samuel were welcome to their turns. Aunt Teresa said, "You see my dears,
your stepmother and I have always suspected that John had that sort of
interest in "his" younger daughter, and Diana suspects that Robin shares
the same fantasy. This is probably the last opportunity to settle the
question, and of course we could not leave Samuel out. We know he has
lusted after his daughters every bit as much as Noah ever did." Matty, I
use the new names, added that since Bernard and I were promised elsewhere,
her behind and mouth would be available also, without any special
conditions.

The whole company trooped in when Robin addressed himself to Kate's and
our father to Matty's behinds in the great bed. We thought to put them off
their probably uncertain stroke, but both buggerings proved prolonged,
successful and enjoyed by the ladies concerned. I accepted the condition
on which I was to wed your mother. Lucy leant gracefully over the bed as
the others finished. She then settled her arse back onto Bernard's prick
in a most proprietorial way.

In the morning, we all resolved that apart from the exchange between
Kate and Matty, we would continue to act as though all the apparent
relationships between us were as society supposed them to be. And so we
have all acted ever since in the public eye.

What occurred after privately between us is almost entirely not material
to this document. None the less, you my four dear children should be
assured that you are the legitimate issue of your mother and I. However,
you should also know that your cousins Cyril and Charles, Matty's twins
born after her husband's death, are your halfbrothers. I consoled Matty
at your mother's suggestion.

As a matter of record, I should also note that your late Aunt Lucy
declared that the only possible father of your cousin Alice was Robin, the
valet, although he never ejaculated semen actually into her quim.

Your affectionate father,

I, Sir Alan Peter Foster Smith, Baronet, of Leveret Park in the county
of Leicestershire do take oath and swear ........ 1

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Wednesday, July 28, 2004

 

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Sunday, July 25, 2004

 

Free Porn Chat Site Sex story

Posted from Taxi Murders Sextet Hyperfiction
2000 Sean Farragher. All Rights Reserved.

Comments are desired, welcome, and helpful.
Please reply to: seanfarraghermsn
Full site at: http:taximurders

Electronic Arts Fucking School: First Story

Part I.
John, a man of 40 to forty five, took hold of the desk, and
pushed it against the wall watching the motion of the air above
the bed, and feeling his hand frozen against the nightstand. He
did not realize the violence of his act. He could not see the
wonderful terror that made Ann want him more. She loved the force
of the man. She wanted to feel the way his hands dug into her arm
when he taught her to ride. I was a child, yes, Ann thought, but
he did it all proper, and I never felt that he wanted me in any
disgusting way. Well, that was when I was five or was it nine.
Mom moved off the farm when I was four, and she sent me back to
Dad when I was nine. So the space in between is empty.

Part II (Ann almost 19)
Ann opened her legs slightly inviting, showing her dirty
underpants, and the tear in the seam that let the hair show. Ann
was all there for him. I tore holes in my clothes to show him
what I was. I told nasty jokes to the other hands. He paid me no
mind. I seemed to have no effect on him. Everyone thought that he
used me making me work so hard the sweat would roll off my
breasts. I never wore a bra in the barn. I always let them hang
free, roll hither and yon. He did look at my tits, Ann thought, I
saw him watching them as I found the angle of a mirror we kept
for the tender feet that came to the farm for weekend rides.


Part III.
I like being used. I once let two brothers fuck me, and they
never spoke to me, only grunted. One was twenty and the other
seventeen. They just unzipped, pulled my pants down, entered and
came. I came later. They did not know that I knew more, Ann
remembered. I was handy for them, and I savored every minute
writing their names down in a diary I kept for my fucking. I once
set up an old Kodak super 8 camera to film me making myself cum,
but I was too chicken to develop the film. Thought I might be
arrested. I found that film a few years after. Took it to a
photographer who developed (probably made a print for himself)
and I watched my 18 year old body respond to my fingers over and
over again.

Part IV The Shower and John Thompson
I had my way with them by myself in my shower when I was alone
with the soap and my sweet slit, clit hard and throbbing.
Meanwhile, John Thompson, my dad's best friend, some say he
really was my dad, we look so much alike, sat outside, legs
always apart, while he read, taking in the fucking and sucking.
He loved tit books, and sometimes I bought them for him. He would
find it and say, where the fuck this come from, and he would
laugh, and sit there, and I wanted him to play with himself, or
me, watching me reading his mind. Once I put some black and white
old fashioned Polaroid's of my cunt and tits in the magazine and
when John found them, shaking his head, he said, "young lady what
am I the fuck to do with you." He did nothing of course, and
walked away shaking his head, and I watched his ass sway towards
the room where he slept with this whore Gloria who I hated, but
she didn't hate me back. Years later, long after John left, we
became friends, and she made love to me telling me how much she
missed John and how much that great fucken skunk of a man loved
me. Not you, I said, too innocent to be real. She laughed at me
and smacked my ass, telling me that she knew I wanted.

I know he knew what I did in the shower. He heard me splashing
once, and came in thinking I was in trouble, and I had my hand on
my clit sitting on the stall floor, deeply working my clit and
nipples, and didn't hide. He said his apology and left and I knew
he was smiling. I told him later not to tell my Mom. She would
kill me, and he said, quite openly, don't worry Miss we all do
it, so when I showered in the horse stall barn I was always loud
sometimes too loud.

When I came out John was still reading, if you call it that the
tit book, and I looked at the back of his hands imagining them
playing with me, opening my legs, after all I was a woman not, no
kid, and I told him, that now that I was eighteen I expected
something from him. He just laughed shaking his head walking
away.

Now, many years later, looking at my life, and the men, and the
animals and the woman, and the sweet assed women with cocks that
I bought and sold for my Advertising agency in New York.

I was really a pimp or was it a Madam, and sometimes I would
indulge a freak or two, or a woman with need, or a man who wanted
to prove he wasn't queer, and I would always come back to the
farm and John, my dad's best hand, they said, and of course, he
wasn't really my father, that is what I thought. Last year Mama
died, and in her will, she left John things I had given her. I
was surprised, and then I found a letter saying she knew I was
his daughter, and that she hoped he would take care of me, and I
remembered every splash when I massaged my clit getting my mind
in a swirl of semen and hay, mud and leather, watching John play
with my tits that one time when he was drunk and I sucked him off
to sleep.

In the morning, he said I must never do that again, and I
proceeded to do it, and he could not resist, and about a week
later, he disappeared. I got a letter from him asking me to tell
no one and it was best this way. At the time I thought it was
because of the differences in our ages, but no, that was never
the issue, John had a girl friend I used to hate only a few years
older than me, and he didn't mind when the hands joked about him
robbing the cradle, he would only add well she's fucken legal so
you boys can just shut the fuck up.

Said it with a grin, and they all laughed and no one got face to
face. I wish they did, but John was a quiet man, and I can taste
his come in my mouth and the way he pushed so deep in my throat.
He was a man, and all the rest boys, long ago. I want them all
again.

My cunt filled my face sweating and dirty -- their grinding asses
against my belly. Suddenly I thought of that time on the farm.
Playing with a huge cock. No man could match it. I loved it. He
did too. Of course, he had four legs and huge balls, and when I
played with it, I felt the music of its need, and the thickening
of its walls. Took two hands to do it. When it came, I had to
choke. Spit it all out, and swallow some. Smelled like the barn
but I loved it. All the other horses would get very quiet when I
rubbed their flanks. Yes, I know it sounds queer, but I love to
suck horses cocks. Had this guy help me once put it in my cunt
too. Girl friend Mary, she helped but Mary wanted it all for
herself and then she wanted my ass too, and I was so dead after
cumin with this horse, I could not stand it any more. Horse was
beautiful. Tan. White head. Indian horse. My dad bought him for
me. He was small, he said, but was tough, he also said. He was
gentle dad I said after riding him that first time. He had an
easy sway to him, and the first time I dismounted, his cock was
out, so huge, I had to touch it. I was 18, and my boy friends
were all stupid guys who came in ten seconds and I was scared of
getting pregnant so I only sucked them off. We both loved that.
This was years ago. I always remember Wally as I called him.


FUCKING OLD HORSES

I was twenty a freshman in college. Looking back on it, yes, that
fucking horse had eyes just like John. I love riding horses.
When I was nine I saw one fuck a stallion. He climbed all over
her. What stuck was how his come poured back out of her when he
was done with her. John gets a hardon when he is mad. He's like
that stud covering a mare, my cunt spills, and aches afterward. I
love leaving puddles. Yes, I liked sucking that horse off, she
thought again. It was not hard. That fucken old man horse
trainer, Bill, loved showing me how to do it.

Bill could not keep his eyes off my tits. I did not help much. I
carefully opened a button so my fat tits would show. I let the
nipples poke out through my tee shirt. Sometimes I would spill
water on it while I was drinking at the well, and then it was
like being naked except I was not.

When I was fifteen I let Jack Davis's father look at them. I know
he was drunk, but he sucked them, and would have done more, had I
not left the door opened in the bathroom.

Bill the horse trainer, remember him, had these huge condoms, and
he showed me how to put it on and how to rub the horse's cock
until it came. I am a great student. I always take my lessons one
step farther. I was also paid for it, a lot more than bagging
burgers or baby-sitting. I do love making money, almost as much
as fucking. When I can make money and be sexy, well that's
perfect. Bill used to give extra dough if I left the window open
in the shower room. I saw him there with his old fart cock out
beating his meat while I carefully washed my breasts and cunt
after jerking off the horse. I bet he watched me do that horse. I
loved sucking that horse off. I love all cock. I always had a
little extra flourish. A man I did once told me I was crazy to do
it free. He would help me get work. I told him I was not a whore,
but now, at times, I think how wonderful it would be to be paid
by a handsome man.

I know I wasn't supposed to fuck off the horse. After the horse
came, I licked the long black cock, which earned me an additional
small squirt that I rubbed on my face and over the top of my
breasts. When I sucked that horse, he was bound up, could not
move, but what eyes. I would love to tie John up and suck him
off, or make him lick my cunt, or maybe make him suck off some
guy watching us fuck before another stranger fucks me.

What rambling thoughts, Ann had. Her orgasms were never simple.

END



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