How then did I come by her photograph?

I am a writer by profession (as opposed to a professional writer I have to say) and have published amongst other basically non-profitable works, several net-based articles including a couple of books. By chance, Ashley stumbled across a few of my self-indulgent ravings and probably out of disbelief that anyone could freely compile such questionably risque literature, made contact with me and at my request, sent the aforementioned photograph.

That very night I resolved not only to meet her but to fulfil that which I knew without the least shadow of doubt had always been both our destinies. Convenient cop-out that it sounds, I have always believed it is souls which fall in love…not prescribed age-groups. If the opportunity looms out of the mist when you are seventy-two, then so be it…it was supposed to! What is better, to have been loved and cherished for a decade? or to suffer through a life-long marriage of misery and incompatibility which never resulted in a solitary day’s purpose or togetherness? Damn, I should have been a defense attorney!

Now, living in different countries might be said to be problematic. Fact is, it is merely a setback, most likely orchestrated by a higher form of existence merely to test one’s resolve. With the passage of time and the increasing availability of communications technology, I came to know her as I realised soon enough I had always known her - just beyond the fringes of my consciousness. We chatted on messenger services, exchanged emails, I even wrote stories for her. Initially, despite my relational philosophy, I deeply regretted our age-differences – more from her perspective than mine. She was a young girl boarding the train at the first stop. I had been using the line since they shunted the Cherokee and Sioux off to their flinty reservations and usurped their lands to complete the railroad west.

But time is a wonderful thing. Emotions grow, hair-loss matters less…Goddamn it, what half-intelligent woman would knock a night back with Sean Connery? and he was bald at 30! Besides…from some angles and in some lights, the strands still hold their own.

It took a while to organise, but as the plane headed east across the Pacific Ocean and I sat gazing out at that blue-tinged finger-painting below, my mind returned to Ashley’s photograph. I took it out, noticing yet more detail, the lightest application of an almost light-apricot mascara, a trace of lip gloss. She was just so lovely. Her eyes promised many things. Affection, warmth, loyalty and I hasten to add, a healthy degree of cheekiness. I recognised that little eccentricity from living with my two youngest daughters – but that is definitely another story. I think she would understand if I confess now that physically I wanted her as much as I did emotionally and I knew with absolute certainty that I could deliver on all fronts that which she needed. I was bringing it home to her!

Where

As I sat in my suite quite late that afternoon I was in two minds as to whether I should call her cellphone then and there or wait until later in the evening. Having always been impulsive by nature – I punched in the numbers.

"Doing anything tonight?" I whispered, upon hearing her answer.

She recognised the accent. "Noel?"

Even that one word completed a cycle. I wanted to hold her. Actually, I wanted a whole lot more.

"Yep, its me Ashley. Look I just wanted to say, I’m gonna be out of town all weekend, so I won’t be able to chat with you much. Just a business trip which came up." She sounded disappointed. This was such exquisite torture!

"Yeah, well I’m staying at the "Cambridge" Hotel, so I’ll maybe have a few minutes after meetings."

"The Cambridge?" she said, "That’s a coincidence…..we have one of those here."

"Yeah, I know," I teased her, "Corner of Bracken and Pacific Boulevarde isn’t it?"

A brief pause. I felt her heart racing, heard her mind running the numbers. It wasn’t really possible….was it?

"You’re here aren’t you?" she finally got out.

"Well to be honest," I said, "I am new in town and would have just liked to share dinner with someone."

"Give me an hour." She pleaded, all but breathless.

"What? I replied. "I travel thousands of miles to see you and you expect me to wait another hour? How lame’s that? Make it 45 or I’m calling the nearest escort agency!" she lives is of no consequence to this story, merely that a combination of international and domestic flights delivered me to her doorstep as it were. I have though, omitted one significant detail – she had been unaware of my coming, although in previous months I had made every promise to her that whatever it took, I would make the journey.

Not sure who hung-up the quickest.

I sat on the bed unpacking my few things. That beautiful long hair was shortly to be on-site, ready to have my hands running through it. You know what I was thinking of more than anything though? Just holding her – even for a moment would have been worth the whole trip. I would feel her unique warmth and be able at last to kiss that soft little spot just beneath her hairline on the nape of her neck. It had waited such a long time. I wondered if she had delicately shaped ears – soon I would find out.

If I said I was nervous, I would be lying. How could one be nervous about meeting a person they had come to know as well as themselves? What I was, is anxious! Anxious to complete something that had been set in motion years before ever either of us knew anything about it.

A gentle knock at the door offered up two possibilities. Either room-service or my photograph come to life. I really was sweating on that toasted ham sandwich and latte coffee.

Opening it, I could have done a multitude of things. Said "Hi Ashley, nice to see you, come in." Shaken her hand and commented on her good dress sense. Pushed past her, looking for room service down the hallway or at a pinch, shove her up against the door and rape her.

What I did do was to just look at her eyes – that’s all you ever need to do! She was as beautiful on the inside as I knew she would be. I hugged her, took her hand and brought her into my room. Then I noticed her good dress sense. Of course, having the great figure she did was a majorly good start. Rather nice, short and clingy little navy blue skirt, teamed with a plain but good quality beige top that was doing little to mask its extremely well-sculptured contents, themselves being cared for, it appeared, by an unobtrusive frilly light-colored bra. More on that later…..definitely, much more on that!

She smelled of youth and promise. Her beautiful hair shone and danced unchecked across her shoulders each time she moved. For now, that little hot-spot around behind her neck was hidden – surely it wasn’t thinking I would never find it?

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked in all innocence. Damn it, what would she have been thinking if I hadn’t been?

"Why?" I replied, "I’ll tell you exactly why Ashley. "Not every day a treasured image turns up at your front door. You are one lovely and desirable girl and well, lets be honest, there’s no way I’ll be toning down the ‘desire’ part….sorry, can’t change the programming!"

She smiled and hugged herself in that appealing and sexy little way that girls do instinctively and just looked up at me from the chair I had led her to.

"Anyway sweetheart," I continued, "This was first and foremost a dinner date. What say we go eat?"

The hotel’s mini-bars may not have been that well-stocked on a world ranking but hey, they had cornered the market on steak fillets and champagne options. We supped elegantly even if the waiter was a tad on the limp-wrist side – I think he had od’d on the cologne. Probably his sister’s Estee Lauder.

Be easier to list the things we didn’t discuss during that couple of hours than the topics we encroached upon. Graduating college to Al Queda, books to movies, Aussie beaches to life in the South. How disappointing I was thinking - not once did I hear Ashley mutter as she delicately fanned herself, "Ah do declare Noel, if’n you ain’t got the cutest little old English accent there. Why fiddle-dee-dee, it just makes me want to take you back to school for show and tell." Gave me no chance to reply, "Well frankly Ashley, I just don’t give a damn!

A couple of lemon crepes wound up the calorie-session admirably. By now, the champagne had seen to it that just being near her was arousing areas of my body I had sworn to keep in check. No-one told my testosterone I’m thinking.

For all that however, just being there with her was about as good as it gets. We took a late evening walk around the block and chatted more. It was so very relaxing and curiously as if we had shared such closeness many times before. I held her hand as we walked and so much passed through that two-way contact I could feel her needs, her apprehension as to where all this was leading. All I knew was that I wanted to go there.

Returning eventually to my room, we shared the last of the champagne and I asked her if she would care to watch a movie with me. There were so many on cable, took a while to settle on one - we chose SHREK 2.

Why is it, movies in hotels are so much better watching them from the bed. Answer….duh!

We actually watched a fair bit of this one….probably coz she really liked Antonio Banderas’ "Puss ‘n Boots"….Zorro with a cute tail! What really put paid to the adventures of Shrek though, was my finding that exact spot behind her neck.

Girls are so stupid. Kiss their necks on the right spot and they make hot little noises, and thrust their breasts forward which leaves you no choice but to re-locate your hands. In Ashley’s case, it was well worth the relocation! Her breasts, even through her top, were so wonderfully warm and inviting, I had to cup them separately so as neither could complain of preferential treatment. Outsize mammaries are for me the ultimate turn-off – Ashley had the most perfectly shaped and sized breasts, bridging the gap effortlessly between young teen and serial pole-dancer.

Kissing her was but sensory-overload. When you touch a girl’s lips with your own and feel her wanting…needing…. giving , it is such a turn-on and also a privilege that she is responding thus. I told her she was everything I had expected and more. I don’t know if she believed me but I tried to explain that this wasn’t why I had come, it was her . What we were doing was merely the result of her being the beautiful person I could feel – metaphorically speaking.

There is such a delicate line between crass sexual groping and appreciative physical caress. It is a line most girls are aware of and one that the average man has no idea about. Most men look to be turned-on. The majority of girls crave the physical sharing . These two things are light-years apart and for the needful female there is the awesome stumbling block that men, when all is said and done, are simply adult boys. Most fifteen-year old girls in my experience are emotionally so far ahead of the average thirty-year old male….it’s a joke.

Anyway, enough of the psych lesson. Ashley had slid down a little on the bed and was looking so damned comfy there. I was continuing to just gently fondle her while I kissed her neck and shoulders – right alongside that bra strap that was driving me crazy. I think from memory, she was purring. Shrek was pretty much out of the picture when I made the bold, if not decisively forward decision to kiss her leg…just below the hem of her skirt.

Finding that no slap across the face was forthcoming, I repeated the gesture. Definitely a winner. She closed her eyes and wriggled a little. I stuck with the manual and very gently pushed her skirt up marginally. Still no slap and with those extra few inches, was able to kiss her now just that much higher up. Her eyes closed for longer periods and those cute little sighs were really most encouraging, I leant forward, pulled her to me and kissed her on the lips. She melted. It was so easy to tell her I wanted her and that I thought she was the most desirable girl on the planet right at that moment…why? Because it was true!

Easing her back down on the pillow, I just began to undo the buttons on her blouse. She was breathing heavily. I was lucky to even be breathing! As her pretty little bra was exposed, I just knelt there beside her and slipped a finger inside both cups, very gently teasing her nipples. So soft was she – God had deservedly taken out "Best and fairest sculptor’s award" for sure, that night back in 1983 when her mom had conceived her.

Her little top I slipped off and just looked down at her lying there…so vulnerable and soo hot. Slipping her bra straps down, I just eased her breasts free of her bra and she almost whimpered as her arms came up protectively.

Holding her hands now gently above her head, I lowered my lips to her breasts and kissed both. She squirmed - half in pleasure, half in anticipation I imagine. As my mouth took-in her entire right nipple, the sensation was for me exquisite. So erect now, she clung on to me as I suckled her, first one side, then the other.

I can still taste her there, recall how aroused she was making me. I wanted to do so much to her, but this was to be no rushed performance, I wanted it all to last for ever. I turned her over on her tummy, and guided her hands upwards on to the pillow held them there. The scent of her hair was just so deeply intoxicating as I nuzzled her neck and whispered how much she meant to me right then. I began just gently massaging her shoulders and letting my hands caress her. We really didn’t need that bra..so unhooking it I just disentangled the thing and tossed it across the bed. That left the more than pleasurable ability to kiss her right down her spine to her lower back.

Ashley was now in an almost constant state of wriggling as I was left with the almost meagre challenge of unzipping her skirt and sending it too, on its way. She gasped a little, which seeing as she was simply clad now in just a hot little pair of what might have been young girl’s panties, was understandable really.

I had known from pics she had sent me months earlier that she had a really hot little bottom. The camera hadn’t lied, they don’t make them any hotter. At the risk of incurring her wrath, I simply took a hold of the elastic, pulled them down but half an inch or so and kissed the upper part of her beautiful curves. Now that did get a "nooooooooo" but I figure it was more for effect than anything else, especially as I did it again tugging it down even further and with no resistance that time – just a gasp. I could have kissed her there all night.

It was now at the business end of the teasing! I turned her over once more and of course she gave a little girl yelp and covered her breasts protectively. Hot as that was, I had other plans and just leaned forward and kissed her hard on the front of her panties. Ashley forgot about her nipples and just gasping with surprise I suppose, awaited my next move.

She didn’t have long to wait. Once again I kissed her right on her pussy, making sure the pressure was such that she would be in no doubt as to my intent. I love looking at a girl’s eyes when she finally realises you are going to make love to her. There is in them, that wavering combination of sexual pleading, open vulnerability, arousal, submission and an acceptance of her immediate fate.

I gently but firmly tugged her knickers down, the sight of which just about rendered me catatonic. So hot and desirable was she I really could say nothing. I simply laid my hand on her delicately pronounced labia and idly slipped my finger between the lips. She was not far off volcanic. I was not far off deranged! I can’t be sure now, so befuddled was I with the sight, but I think I asked some cretinous question like "may I lick you gently?" Whatever dumbo poser I asked her, she just nodded and I spent fully twenty minutes exploring her down there.

I recall so much caressing, rubbing and digital stimulation, eventually one or both of us was certifiable.

"Make love to me," she whispered, at which point I felt like an emotionally retarded freshman. I did remember how to make love though. Divesting myself of my own pants was but a moment’s work. I then simply pulled her legs up, parted them and holding her knees wide allowed her to take a hold of my erection which she guided to the promised land. I wanted this to last. Again, I cannot repeat too often, the eyes are the windows into the soul.

If you want to know what’s going on with a girl when you make love to her – look into her eyes. Doesn’t matter what she says, what hot little noises she is making – that’s just the icing on the cake, look at her and feel the passion.

That’s exactly what Ashley and I shared that night – pure unadulterated passion . What may or may not have happened in both our lives…before and after, cannot vary the consequences of that evening. From my first very gentle thrusts inside her, which elicited both moans and a need on my part to take her deeper, right through to my driving so hard into her that she clung to me, a female completely on-heat……in all that time, I never lost sight of who she was and the respect I had for her existence. An ‘orgasm’ underplays descriptively and quantitatively what we reached. We "touched" and that , if you can manage it, is the highest pleasure attainable. The moment stays with you because you realise you got to somewhere special… with someone special!

The credits for Shrek 2 were long over, when the haze lifted. I lay beside her, holding her hand while with my right hand, I traced around the outline of her very damp pussy, watching the steady trickle of my semen as it leaked from her and ran down the inside of her leg. I allowed a small amount to gather at the end of my finger and then raising it to her breast just rubbed it gently across her still very erect nipple. She put her hand over mine and we both cupped her breast like proud new parents.

Having extolled the virtues of true love-making and having endeavored to describe accurately just how meaningful was that first union, there comes a time inevitably when a girl likes to be fucked silly . For Ashley, that time came not long afterwards. I knew the symptoms. A dull red glint in the eyes that grows in intensity. Provocative body movements, especially with their hot little bottoms, a sense if you like that they want it rougher this time….more heat less bleat. They turn up the sex, turn down the flirting. You know immediately that what’s needed here is a cock as far up their pussy as you can get it and from any position you care to name…whatever is hottest! In Ashley’s case, on all fours with her bottom headed skywards definitely did the trick. Nor was I gentle this time….so convincing was she – even I wanted to rape her senseless.

To say, I took her hard would be to understate the moment. I "gave it to her" is more the key phrase here. It must have answered the call well enough – I remember that hot little smile as I rolled her on her back afterwards and how she clutched at her pussy with both hands, seeking probably to stem the seeping tide. I loved the idea of it all being inside her too.

She stayed the night of course and never have I spent a more loving evening. Cuddled up behind her in her "S" bend, I nuzzled her neck all night, lightly caressed her back and hips. Whispered all kinds of loving nonsense in her ears – much of which she would never have heard, being asleep soon afterwards. Sometimes during the darkness she would turn to me and I would be able to suck her breasts until I almost passed out with contentment myself. Even asleep, I could make out her sweet smile. Just once I was able to spread her legs while she was on her back and penetrating her so carefully, I worked at my mission until I filled her, while she slept unknowing of the enormous pleasure she was giving me.

I can never be complete now without her.

© 2004

 ">http://www.lulu.com/noel"> http://www.lulu.com/noel

Five-nine at a stretch, dark lanky hair that defied any particular style. It simply grew! More than his share of acne and with a dress sense that ranked somewhere between white trailer-trash and Dennis Hopper mid adolescence.

It wasn’t as if he had the opportunity to excel in sport. He could neither wield a baseball bat or cut it as a line-back. Not that he was especially weak, simply un-cordinated as all hell. Thus, with basically no friends, no future and less than no self-esteem, you can understand Luke’s resentment at having been born.

Life at home was little better. The youngest of three children, his two sisters being several year’s older, Luke himself was an unplanned and in his view unwanted addition. His father, a retired welding contractor, had no interest in anything much beyond keeping an eye on the beer stocks in the fridge. Parenthood had simply been a rude interruption to his life-style. He knew he’d had a son but would have needed prompting to describe him.

Luke’s mother, one might kindly refer to as a faded beauty, but then one would really be lying. A mousey blonde, her best days were long behind her at sixteen, not that this would have been a problem for Luke’s father, whose eyes rarely strayed between the neck and knees of any girl……then or now.

But Luke had one friend, two if you include his driver’s license! She was his ideal companion. Uncomplaining, she accompanied him everywhere. He would even stay-up nights just looking at her, the fading sunlight reflecting off her shapely rear-end as she sat there on the grass resplendent in all her finery.

Almost eighteen-foot long give or take an over-rider, that gold ’69 Buick Electra hard-top was Luke’s greatest, if not only joy. He had nursed her though ill-health, spent most every dollar he had earned from part-time work on her betterment and she had repaid him handsomely by way of unshakeable loyalty and reliability. He loved her, but now she had to help him .

He had never actively pursued the opposite sex at High school. Partly from fear of rejection, partly fear of acceptance, but principally, in recognition of his limited social standing. Definitely from the wrong end of town for the sort of girl he dreamed about.

The hormones had kicked-in on time but the call had never been answered. Between them, Hugh Hefner, Bob Guccione and Larry Flynt had only been able to offer temporary stapled relief and anyway, silicone implants really weren’t the sexual panacea Luke was looking for. He wanted a cute and loving little home-town girl, no manufactured blonde fantasy hot off the bench-press.

Within striking distance of twenty now, his craving for youthful female company had reached critical mass. There was only so much solace to be derived from cyber-porn, sexstoriespost.com and the old standby -his trusty bar of soap.

At the car-wash where he held down a casual job, there were a couple of girls in the office. One he had summoned-up the courage to ask out – before she cut him dead with the needlessly hurtful reply. "No offense Luke, but go look in the mirror – I do have a reputation to look after y’know!" Kristy the other girl, already had a full-time boyfriend who just happened to be the star pitcher for the State League team.

Loneliness gave way to despair, desire to unfettered sexual imagery. He began imagining what it would be like to have a lover, one who would accede to his every whim unquestioningly. His orgasms became stronger and more prolonged, in direct proportion to his evolving dark fantasies. He began spending more time in his own room, a converted garage at the rear of the property, alongside which his father had helped him build a corrugated iron car-port to house the Buick. The arrangement suited the entire family. No-one need ever be expected to more than simply acknowledge the other’s existence.

With seemingly no likelihood of ever being able to engender a normal heterosexual relationship, Luke began reading true-life rape tales. Whether or not they were in fact kosher really didn’t matter to him. Just the thought of having that awesome power over a young and innocent girl, filled him with longing. He began to see it as his destiny. Payback of sorts for all those years of put-downs and snide comments.

He began cruising local schools, just watching the girls as they left for the afternoon. Just the way they would giggle, hold hands, toss their hair back and every other little affected girlish mannerism, he missed no detail. He began to imagine some of them back in his room tied up, breasts open to his touch, their skirts so easy to push up and those hot little panties exposed for him to look at from whatever angle he chose…for as long as he chose.

Some days he would return to his room and beat-off several times before he was able to shed the hot images he had so fancifully created.

Implementing a plan however was another question. He could hardly cruise-on down to the school gates mid-afternoon, parents and relatives offering clustered protection and especially in a car which just about every second resident of Trinity would recognise two hundred yards distant. No, he would need to think this one through.

Night meant increased safety, while at the same time virtually eliminating opportunity. What school-girls would be walking around town unaccompanied after dark? For sure, none that he would be interested in! He figured he owed it to himself at least to go check-out the scene that evening.

The mere reality of his being on-site, "prowling" the sidewalks that night sent a hot flush through him. A predator-come-lately perhaps but at least he was "doing," not "dreaming." He had parked the car in a dark back-street just off the main drag, yet five minutes walk from the center of town. Not that Trinity had what you could call a "Town Center" as such, just Union Park with its Council chambers and old stucco Town Hall which rather like Trinity itself, had long since seen better days. A light breeze induced some brief motion in the flag atop the Court House fronting the main entrance to the Park and through which one or two people were obviously about to take their evening constitutional.

A young couple strolled past Luke as he stood just inside the doorway of Al’s Diner that had been forced to close the previous month, having been several weeks behind on the rent. Their happy chatter and the loving expression on the girl’s face as she clutched the man’s hand as they passed, angered him momentarily.

He walked towards the eastern boundary of the park now, crossing Marriot Boulevarde at the lights. Two girls in a black Saab convertible screeched to a halt. Eminem was emphasising the depth and resonance of the car’s sound system insisting "Two trailer-park girls walk round the outside, round the outside, round the outside….." The girls stared at Luke and the one driver’s side called out to him, "Wot you lookin’ at dickhead?" They accelerated off before he could reply, leaving him little but the use of his middle finger.

"Couple of hoes," he thought to himself. He wasn’t far wrong either.

He walked for twenty minutes or so, not with any particular plan, just checking the lie of the land as it were. As he crossed to the corner of Third Avenue, "Brent’s Alnite Drugstore" loomed large, a shimmering beacon of blue neon light that illuminated as area at least fifteen feet across the sidewalk and onto Marriot Boulevarde itself. Standing at the shop’s entrance, Luke caught the not unpleasant odour of pharmaceutical and medical preparations, toiletries and allied drugstore supplies. A thought came to him. At the counter he was surprised just how easily he had ordered it.

"A small bottle of chloroform please," he had requested.

When asked if it was for him, he simply replied that he was just getting it for his mother and that he didn’t know what she needed it for. He was most convincing and the pharmacist handed it over with no fuss.

Aside from a few girls in small groups leaving the theater, there didn’t appear to Luke to be too many opportunities presenting themselves. He foresaw that it would be much the same any night and manic depression began to overwhelm him once more. He didn’t want to go home already as it was only a quarter after nine and all that awaited him there was a pile of stained magazines, fuzzy video cartridges and wall to wall loneliness. He decided that hunched-up in the corner of Rick’s Charcoal Chicken Basement with a hot coffee and a ham on rye was probably as good as anything else on the horizon.

The caffeine coursed through his venal system – shame the rye was yesterday’s. Luke sat there sullenly, watching customers play out their seemingly happy lives, purely at the expense of his escalating torment, he figured.

At that moment a young girl with a back-pack stepped through the entranceway, sending the plastic strips into temporary confusion. She looked very unhappy but walked up to the counter and ordered a Coke and a sandwich. Luke watched as she sat down with her back to him just a couple of alcoves up, shuffling her tray around nervously as if deciding whether to eat or drink first. From what he had seen, she was rather pretty.

The girl had fairly long light-brown hair, shining and obviously well-cared for. Prettily swept back into a ponytail, it was held in place by a piece of dark-green ribbon that contrasted sharply with the caramel colored top she had on. Her short dark skirt accentuated both her youth and the slender perfection of her legs. He wished he could see her face again.

As he watched, she seemed distracted and put down the coke. The sandwich he noticed, she had barely touched. As she lowered her head, he heard her begin sobbing as she covered her face with her hands. By no means hysterical crying, she was gripped obviously by some deep personal misery.

This was a situation outside Luke’s experience….most any situation was come to that! Something about the girl’s immediacy touched Luke and as no-one else seemed to be paying her much heed…an older couple two tables up turned and glanced at her before continuing on with their conversation…..he got up and walked towards her.

"Excuse me Miss," he said standing alongside her table somewhat awkwardly, "Are you OK?"

She glanced up at him, evidently surprised by his presence. She didn’t seem to be annoyed by the intrusion.

"Yes….I…I’m fine thank you," she lied. "Just got a few problems…but thanks for asking. I’ll be fine." She dabbed her eyes with a serviette and Luke found himself staring at point-blank range at the prettiest of little-girl faces. Even tear-filled, her blue eyes were enough to melt his heart. Beautiful soft features, cutest little turned-up nose set between smooth cheeks with all the flush of youth. At her temples, strands of brown hair curled into little feathery bangs just overlapping the tops of her small but clearly defined ear-lobes. She wore tiny golden ear studs, that for a moment reminded him of the Electra. Most appealing though was her mouth. Intensely kissable and lightly glossed lips that curved delicately upwards just enough to let you know that here was mother nature truly unplugged, a rare example of female genetic perfection.

Luke gulped.

"Want to tell me what’s wrong Miss?" he managed somehow to get out.

She looked at him for a moment, instinctively aware of his social discomfort.

"Look, its nothing really, just a few issues at home." she replied.

"C…could I sit with you for a minute?" he asked, hardly daring that she would ever acquiesce. "My name’s Luke by the way," he added hopefully.

Inviting him to sit down, she told him her name was Ashley. He learned that she was fifteen and attended St Angelus College, an expensive private educational facility in the northern and far newer sector of Trinity. When she predictably asked where he lived, he felt a flush of embarrassment, telling her simply, "Oh, just near the rail terminus," but she didn’t seem to make any adverse connections.

The "issues" she mentioned earlier proved to be stubborn parents that she felt were denying her her freedom. Specifically, a father who refusing to admit to himself that his daughter was barely a child any longer, would not allowed her to go out to a rock concert with other girlfriends. She told him she had just walked out of the house that evening in anger as she had been given free tickets and it was something she was really looking forward to.

All the time she was speaking, he was gazing at her and wondering if this was simply God indulging himself in another round of humor at Luke’s expense. Tempting him beyond the boundaries of sanity with the immediacy of this exquisitely beautiful young girl.

"Have a good look son, it’s as close as you’re ever gonna get!"

An unheralded vision of her tied-up helpless on his bed brought a blush to his cheeks. He looked away momentarily. He felt the small bottle in his trouser pocket and immediately rebuked himself for the images it brought.

"Well Luke," she said, "I suppose I’d better be getting home. I’ve never ‘run away’ before…even if it was only for an hour or so! My dad will be looking for me soon coz I switched my cell off."

On impulse, he said to her.

"Well hey Ashley, I have a car just round the corner. Let me take you back, you can’t walk home alone this time of night." Then, as an afterthought, "It’s OK…I’m pretty safe!"

She smiled at him.

"Sure it’s not out of your way?"

"Yeah, like at least ten minutes," he replied in a mock-inconvenienced tone.

She gathered up her back-pack and they left Rick’s Charcoal Chicken.

Luke’s mind was in hyperdrive as they walked to his car. He knew she would never, COULD never, go out with him. This was the only opportunity he could ever see himself as having. She was the girl over and above any that he had fantasisied about and if he was to do it…this was the moment. Still chatting to her idly, he slowly retrieved the small bottle from his pocket.

"Whoa!" she said when they reached the Buick. "Is this really your car?"

"Yeah," he replied. "I’ve had her for a couple of years. Bit heavy on gas, but she’s a dream to ride in."

"Really cool car Luke," she said. "I love it."

Opening the passenger’s side door for her, he ushered her in. The glow from the courtesy light permitted Luke a momentary glance of her skirt riding up her thighs as she sat down. Being a really warm night, he had her lower all four windows from the central console."

"Just have to get my bag out of the trunk Ashley, hold on a sec." He glanced around the darkened street….not a person in sight.

He almost dropped the tiny bottle in his haste. He hadn’t realised it until that instant, but the adrenalin-rush had imbued his body with a fit of shaking. Retrieving a small cloth he kept near the spare tire, he quickly unscrewed the bottle and poured several drops of fluid on to the rag, soaking the center part, while keeping it at arm’s length and being careful not to breathe more than necessary. He hadn’t been thirty seconds.

"Ready now," he called to her. A last glance around revealed no newcomers to the street.

In two steps he was beside her. Clamping the cloth tightly across her mouth she struggled immediately of course, trying desperately to force his arm away. She beat at it, but to no avail. The car being pillarless, he was able to hold her tightly against the seat and in a matter of seconds the chloroform took hold, her struggles subsided and she yielded no further resistence. He let her breathe the fumes for just a couple of seconds more to ensure she was deeply under. He then tossed the rag back in the trunk, climbed into the driver’s seat and buckled up. She looked for all the world like a sleeping girlfriend.

Driving straight into his carport, he knew no-one would be outside. His father would either be watching TV or getting drunk….hopefully both. His mother if she was home, and not at a friend’s place as usual, would be in bed by now and asleep. Both sisters had moved out long ago.

The stillness of the night contrasted to that of his heartbeat as he got out and retrieved the key from its customary place over the door lintel. Leaving the front-door ajar he returned to the Buick where Ashley still lay unmoving across the seat that he had set to the maximum lay-back position. By moonlight, she looked to him an angel at rest. Just for an instant as he moved her, the light reflected off the little pendant that hung around her neck, murdering his conscience, imperiling his very soul.

She was so light, her arms hanging loose by her side as he carried her inside quickly. As he entered the solitary little room, he tried to imagine if this was what it felt like carrying one’s bride across the threshhold. The young girl’s breasts were clearly accentuated now given her limp and vulnerable position. He lay her gently down on his bed and hurriedly returned to the trunk to fetch the chloroform bottle should he be needing it.

He saw the room so differently suddenly. Its shortcomings were underscored by her very presence. His bed now, looked to him the worn and pitiful item of furniture that it was. The creased and far from clean quilt contrasted with her neat attire. The threadbare carpet seemed to complete the picture. Beauty and the Beast…with new players.

He partly addressed the problem by turning off the harsh center light and switching on the bedside lamp that at least made some pretense at gentility. He simply could not take his eyes off her. He had caught a glimpse of her light-colored panties as he laid her down. Now as she lay on her back, he could see a hint of them once more. He felt a substantial stirring right where he needed to.

He approached the bed and very gently re-arranged her legs so that more of her undies were visible. She was still out cold and he had free rein for now. Sitting in the chair opposite, the view now was substantially improved and he unzipped himself. Definitely no need for soap tonight he realised. He began to rub himself as his fantasies kicked-in big-time given the scene before him.

He remembered his digital camera. Here surely was the opportunity of a lifetime? Yet as he looked at that scene through the viewfinder, he experienced a momentary twinge of conscience, though not enough ultimately to sway him from his endeavors. He became more creative and pushing the girl’s skirt right up, stared now at her fully exposed knickers. His erection was dictating operational procedure. He took several pictures before pushing her knees up and setting her legs wide apart.

From the chair, her fully indecent pose suggested to him, innocence betrayed and in his mind she was doing this to arouse him further. Staring at her panties, he visualised her rubbing herself and whispering to him to watch. He got up, cock in hand and taking hold of her left arm, managed to get a hand inside her panties. Backing up a few feet, he took a picture of her ‘pleasuring herself.’

He felt the first orgasm racing to the surface and barely made it to the bed. Kneeling between her legs, Luke directed the hot magma spurts right across the front of her panties. Several globs caught the edge of her skirt, others the inside of her legs. He stared fascinated as his reproductive tide began to seep-in to the material. He leaned forward and just passed his fingers down the center of her panties where the lips of her pussy were just beginning to be outlined by the clingy wet material.

With his face but a couple of feet from her most private of possessions, he gently held aside her panties and stared at the hottest sight that he had ever seen. Though not fully exposed, her pussy, framed by the prettiest short curly hair, was the sexiest and most beautiful thing he had ever imagined. He allowed a little of the cum that was running down her panties to fall on to his index finger. He then very gingerly inserted the finger into her pussy, very gradually parting her lips. Only a few centimetres inside, he lightly touched her vaginal wall, dislodging the white goo. He wanted more of it inside her and repeated the process twice…three times. Although not opening her eyes, she began to stir.

Shaking out a few more drops of chloroform on to the rag, he got careless and breathed-in enough to make him almost pass out. Recovering swiftly, he climbed back on the bed and held the material beneath her nose. She was senseless again seconds later.

Arousing as Ashley looked in that lewd pose, he had so much more to accomplish. Her breasts were small yet prominent beacons of desire and he allowed himself the luxury of feeling them up through her top. For a while he just knelt there fondling both her breasts and relishing their softness. When that was superseded by the need to explore further, he slipped a hand down her blouse and inside her frilly and ultra-soft bra. The skin to skin contact just about blew his sanity. Passing his hand again and again over her nipples he felt them hardening and even though this was an automated response, to Luke, she wanted his attentions and was teasing him with her hot body.

His second erection was if anything, harder than the first and he did not even bother to keep the thing in his pants. First things first though. Laying there on her back, face slightly to one side, obviously she wanted to be kissed. That he could do, and lowering his head while still squeezing her breasts, he kissed her hard on the lips. The taste alone almost brought him to a second orgasm.

Losing much of the limited control he still had, Luke literally tore the front of her blouse until it gaped open, exposing her bra completely. He pushed the flimsy material up, freeing her small but beautifully formed breasts. His mouth drying up rapidly like the Utah Salt Flats, he could but stare at those twin mounds of desire, capped by tiny light brown nipples that he had managed to arouse visibly. Lowering his mouth, his lips closed around the right nipple. The feel of her milky soft skin, and the uniquely exciting smell of fifteen year-old tits, sent his reproductive equipment hurtling towards danger zone-code red. Even as he sucked, with his spare hand he was rubbing himself.

This time he knew what he wanted. As the hot cum ejected on cue, he was already in place, spurting dramatically over both breasts and her face. One nipple was covered, her cleavage redecorated and white stuff trickled down her left cheek. He was getting there!

So hot did she look like that, he had to take more pictures. Having done so, he undid the remainder of her blouse buttons and turned her over on to her tummy to get the thing off. This achieved two things. It certainly gave him access to get her topless very quickly, but it also presented him with a hitherto unpremeditated aspect of arousal. One very shapely little bottom. He had seen enough hot bums in cyber-space, but never had he been in such close proximity to one.

Experimentally he patted hers and immediately discovered something interesting. It felt really good! He pulled her back towards the edge of the bed until she was bent over it. Then pulling a pillow across, he pushed it under her to elevate her bottom, so that she looked like a naughty little girl about to get a spanking. This was DEFINITELY a picture to be savored. With her skirt pushed up around her hips and her panties pulled to her knees she looked even better. He allowed himself the luxury of patting her bottom several times and feeling it up in all its youthful entirety.

This however provided even greater promise of pleasurable fulfilment as he was to find out. While photographing her little bum, Luke noticed some sleek dark hair just visible between her legs. The improved viewing status to be had simply by parting her legs a little, amazed him. By parting them a LOT he was blown away. Her entire pussy thus exposed occupied his camera lens for many a close-up. She was such a temptress!

He had now an all-consuming need to see her naked. It was then but the least difficulty in divesting her of her skirt and slipping her hot little panties off the rest of the way. Turning her back over, he stared at his handiwork……leastways, God’s handiwork! He sat back in his chair just taking in her pronounced hips, curved waist and breasts thrust out now with the aid of a pillow under her back. He arranged her arms up above her head, her legs wide apart so that she was in all appearances, begging to be fucked.

To fuck her? If only. It’s what he brought her home for isn’t it? To rape a girl…that had been the plan. But could he do it? What would happen after that? She knew him now, could identify him. So far all he had done was basically abduct her for a while, though that was her word against his anyway. True he’d stripped her and felt her up but nothing that would stand up in Court….well except for a few cocks listening to the evidence maybe.

Of course being forensically uninformed, Luke was unaware that courtesy of his index finger, he had already shoved enough DNA up inside her to convict a herd of intellectually-challenged rapists. But what he didn’t know, hardly occupied his right brain activities did it?

That she would come around of course was beyond question. He simply hadn’t exactly planned the rules of debate from that point onwards. What he WAS thinking though is that maybe he could just get it in her once or twice. Who’d know? Certainly not her if she was still out.

Showing at least the rudiments of forward-planning, Luke cut off a couple of small lengths of rope that he kept out back and returning, tied her hands to the bedhead. He also allowed his hands to roam her body at will, pulling her nipples, tracing the outline of her mouth with his finger and even slipping a hand beneath her bottom. Setting up his third erection really was as easy as fingerpainting. Looking at her tied up like that could probably have brought him to another orgasm in time, especially with her legs spread as they were.

Staring at her exposed and defenceless pussy, although if the truth be known - he was most definitely thinking of it as her cunt right now, he had to indulge yet another fancy. Slipping the cushion beneath her bottom once again, this had the effect of pushing her hot little slit up and outwards. He lowered his head and licked her. She seemed to stir slightly but if the chloroform had been strong, the scent of her pussy was an emotional anaesthetic. He licked her harder and surely, she was getting wetter, even if she didn’t know about it?

This was the stuff of dreams. A naked teenage girl, tied up and letting him do what he wanted to her. Wasn’t strictly an accurate summation of the circumstances he knew, but it was close enough.

He put his cock at the entrance to her pussy and almost passed-out as it slipped-in an inch or so. She was so hot inside and as he pushed in again, he groaned both with pleasure and at the sight of her breasts jiggling to his ministrations.

"You want me to fuck you don’t you Ashley?" he whispered. "You want to feel a boy’s cock in your pussy…..just like this?" He looked down as he muttered the words. The sight of his cock entering her was just an all-consuming emotion for him. She had been born for him to do this to her, this very night!

As he pushed in further he met with some resistance and was inwardly pleased that she was obviously still a virgin. It made it all the hotter. As he increased the pressure and the rate of penetration, he felt her body react. She seemed to wince slightly even while still out. His need was great, his urgency greater. Long past the "Let’s back off while we’re still safe" zone, he simply was riding a blinding urge now to fuck her, to impregnate her if necessary – anything to fill that hot little cunt with his cum.

He felt the hymen give, felt something sticky envelop his cock and glancing down, saw a trickle of blood exiting from her pussy. But it wasn’t as red as his lust right at that second. Now he was raping her, no other word for it. He could hear, see, feel nothing but his relentless pumping action. If he had, he would have seen her open her eyes.

He felt her legs widen further, the girl’s breathing became as irregular as his own. He was thrusting in to her so hard that it had forced her shoulders up against the bedhead. Totally on auto-pilot now he had hold of her breasts and was squeezing them with impunity. He thought he felt her raising her hips but was too close to consummating the deed to question that likelihood.

As his residual sperm-supply rode the tube at warp factor 10, ultimately spraying the girl’s vaginal walls every which way, he cried out in a passion, "I so love you Ashley."

He didn’t even see her smile.

Undeniably aiding her in whatever vocational path she may have chosen, was Jenny’s physical appearance. "Cutie" actually downplays the situation here. "Ventricularly arresting" might be nearer the mark. Five-two in bare-feet (should you be so lucky) the most attractive little heart-shaped face looked out at her world through clear hazel eyes highlighted by sleek dark eyelashes that no street-artist could have pencilled in. Unblemished skin complemented the prettiest of natural expressions that drew one to those lips – delicate and so full of promise, one could only thank God to have been born male – and in Deaddolfhin . Her exquisitely cut and layered mass of brunette hair which trailed off her lovely shoulders even in the most gentle of winds, didn’t detract much either.

The good news didn’t stop there. The aforementioned five-foot two inches of smalltown, middle-American desirability was packaged into a body that did everything right. Her small but beautiful breasts were off-set by an equally restrained but spankable little bottom that sadly had last seen such action when she was but maybe four or five years old. Her legs it seemed, had been sculptured by a professional who one can only suppose, was stretchered off the field comatose, when he reached the top.

Jenny Cornwall was to put it succinctly, one of the most beautiful young girls on the planet.

Late October and circumstances found her hunched-up rather daintily on the floor of her outrageously expansive bedroom, with her four best-friends from school. It hadn’t been a particularly cold evening for the sleep-over, despite the meteorological expectations that might be ascribed the "Cute Kitties of the World" calender that hung marginally askew over her computer desk. ‘October’ had as its main picture, a rather magnificent study of a white tiger trekking through deep snow, carrying her solitary cub by the scruff of it’s neck. To the left of the calender and partly obscured by her carved table-lamp was a sign which read "A home without a cat is just a house" which adequately summed-up Jenny’s views on the subject.

Cyndi Andersson wasn’t far behind in the "Girls I’d like to kidnap for a month" stakes. Of Nordic parentage as might be guessed from her surname, she was slightly taller than Jenny – around five-four. Long deep-blonde hair and quite exquisite features. One of those girls that whatever the occasion, she handled it with style. She didn’t suffer fools readily and as a result, was accorded the status by the other boys at San Carlita High as a seminal-tease as it were. She could so live with that!

Bronwyn Lanchard was the serious one among them. The third daughter of Conrad Lanchard, a prominent local attorney, her grades were legendary, her future (in the legal profession) indisputable. Bronwyn, whilst not classically beautiful was just simply pretty. Maybe it was the way she was constantly brushing her long brown hair out of her eyes as she talked. Perhaps, her little habit of giggling between comments. Certainly her stylish glasses sporting their neat little rectangular lenses by "Jeunique," lent her an air of extreme vulnerability. More than likely though it was just her breasts did it for her. To die for in any clothing you care to mention, tonight as she sat on the floor with her friends in those silky little PJ’s, no man could have shifted his gaze from her arousingly prominent cleavage. One might understandably be reminded of the Marianas trench.

Lucy Vandenholm could best be described as ‘trippy.’ Had she been around in the late sixties she would have slotted into life in the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco like a born natural. An effusive little blonde, she had an interest in all things outre! Could have been a high-ranking Goth except for the fact she didn’t like black! Ear-studs and accessories ran riot up into her hairline. A rather creative little tattooed scarab sat but centimeters below the rear naughty upper line of her knickers. To complete the picture, her belly button played host to a simple gold ring that her father had once threatened to tear-out without anaesthetic should she ever be thus pierced. It had not been without difficulty trying to hide this particular mutilation from his line of vision. She was though a real sweetie. Cuddly if not a little hypertense, she wasn’t short of male followers let’s say!

Completing the quintet was Jacqui Melville. Tallest of the group, she was not far off five-eight, courtesy of those wonderful thigh-dominating legs that were born for show and tell on the catwalk. Decidedly catlike herself, with those piercing green eyes, mane of tawny hair and a propensity to purr when you found the right spot, Jacqui was the group’s balancing influence. Blessed with a truck-load of common sense, she could slink her way through any situation. For her, fear had never been an option.

"I wish we could go trick or treating again," said Jenny to no-one in particular. "It’s Halloween tomorrow night guys – don’t you remember all the fun we used to have?" she added wistfully.

"I certainly remember Rick Mancuso in eighth grade," laughed Jacqui, "Always looking to give one of the girls a real "treat" – behind the boy’s locker-room." They all laughed.

"Well why don’t we then?" said Bronwyn. "Who says you have to be ten years old to go out Halloween?"

" Hello Bron," muttered Lucy. "Look at us! We’d look like braindead co-eds fronting up to someone’s house in designer jeans and stuff." The other girls stared at her. "Besides, what are we gonna say?…’Evening sir, Halloween sluts on call – just $100 the group and we take most credit cards!"

Jenny and Bronwyn cracked up.

"Hang on people," Cyndi was getting to her feet. She clasped her bathrobe to her. "Why don’t we just dress-up young? I mean, we’re all pretty short – well except for Miss Vogue magazine over there." Jacqui stuck her tongue out at her.

"You mean like little-girl dresses and pigtails type stuff?" asked Jenny. "You’re kidding!"

"It’s mega-simple," replied Cyndi. "Just take off your make-up and nail polish….hmmmmm," she hesitated, "and well, just giggle a lot!"

"You’re serious aren’t you Cyndi?" enquired Lucy, hugging her knees and looking up at her friend.

"Hey, it would be such fun guys wouldn’t it…really? put in Bronwyn, pleased that she had been the instigator of the idea.

Put to a quick vote, the concept scored big-time. Only Jacqui had held back a little saying "Not so sure this is such a good idea girls." Nevertheless she had gone with the numbers.

Halloween, and Deaddolfhin was host to more candle-lit pumpkins than you’d find at fruiterers’ convention in Hell. At the Cornwall residence it was a veritable hive of retrogressive girlish activity. Jenny, Cyndi and Jacqui had dug out their old year-eight school uniforms which still fitted them to any curve you care to mention. Bronwyn had tugged on a pair of Levis with a floppy top that hid "the trench’ while Lucy had squeezed herself effortlessly into a little party dress that made her look fourteen tops! Jenny and Cyndi had gone the pigtail route, Bronwyn a pony while Jacqui and Lucy had simply brushed their hair back and employed a couple of strategically-placed clasps. To the casual observer, a more normal group of bubbly young schoolkids didn’t exist.

The air was crisp to say the least, as the group, having overlaid themselves with warm coats, crossed Chadstone Road heading for Donners Ridge, an older established estate, comprising many desirable cedar-built homes on large blocks. The streets were tree-lined, the front yards for the most part – immaculate and the general aura – one of wealthy, if not staid indifference. Lucy herself lived in Greenline Avenue just up on their left.

"Hey, lets try this house," Cyndi called out to her friends. Giggling, they climbed the half dozen steps to the small covered verandah. Even as Jenny raised her hand to knock, the front door swung open, giving them and the emerging figure the shock of their joint lives.

"Jesus, you scared the hell out of me," muttered the man, pulling up abruptly.

"Well, it is Halloween sir," replied Jenny, recovering her own composure.

He looked the small group over – clearly undismayed by such redoubtable a feminine presence.

"Aren’t you schoolkids just a little bit old for this?" he asked, addressing Bronwyn now.

" No way ," she replied, "We’re just getting better at it each year," Everyone laughed.

"Well then," he muttered, "What can I say? S’pose I’d better go find you girls some "treats." He disappeared back inside, leaving the door ajar.

"Did you see the way he looked at us?" squeaked Lucy.

"Yeah, more like we were some early Christmas present than Halloween," chipped in Jacqui. "Told you kids this wasn’t such a great idea."

"C’mon Jacqui, lighten up ," said Bronwyn, "It’s just a bit of fun is all."

Right then, the man returned and handed them all various candies. They thanked him and scurried down the steps, leaving him with little more than an empty verandah to talk to.

"This is cool," cooed Cyndi, "Let’s try the next house."

By the end of the street all five girls had their pockets overflowing with enough confectionery to ensure the need of regular dental treatment for years.

"Come on girls, lets go back," said Jacqui. "I think we’ve gotten more than enough and its getting a bit late."

"Just a couple more houses then," insisted Cyndi. "Hey, lets try that street opposite." She pointed across the road.

"Noooo," whispered Lucy looking genuinely concerned. "Not up there – it’s got a bad reputation."

"As in scary? " asked Jenny. "Whoa! We gotta give it a whirl."

"No really," insisted Lucy. Kids have always been told to stay clear of that place. Just lots of stories about bad things happening there."

"Well it looks pretty normal," Jenny replied. "Let’s not wimp out huh?"

Lucy shrugged her shoulders. "I guess," she muttered. Jacqui looked doubtful but tagged along anyway.

Indeed, Mencole Street appeared entirely normal More of the same cedar-built homes lined both sides of the essentially straight road ahead. Perhaps the only noticeable difference was just how quiet the area was, the only sound in evidence being the girl’s footfalls.

Deciding by majority-vote to tackle initially the second house on the right, the five of them approached the front door, well-lit as it was by the overhanging porch light. On their left, two huge carved-out pumpkins placed either side of the entrance steps, glowed with candle-lit intrigue. Sounds of some group festivity were clearly audible inside.

Huddled together as they were for collective comfort, Jenny knocked twice.

Whatever sights they had been expecting to emerge from behind that opening door – Freddy Krueger definitely wasn’t one of them.

Touching the brim of his moth-eaten hat, he leered at them. Why, its Jenny Cornwall?" he exclaimed. Even the voice was uncannily like Wes Craven’s hellish creation. So professionally made was the mask they couldn’t even see where the facial join was.

"God, you scared me," stammered Jenny. "Who are you and how come you know me?’

"Same way I recognise Bronny, Cyndi. Lucy and Jacqui." the figure announced. "You’re not the only five at San Carlita’s y’know!"

The implication of this statement stunned them momentarily.

"You’re a student there?" muttered Lucy incredulously.

"Maybe….maybe not." The Freddy-figure had propped himself up against the doorway. "Anything goes on Halloween night girls," he added, drawing a solitary knifed finger noisily along the top of the screen door.

"C’mon, who are you…really?" Bronwyn was almost begging. "Is it you Wayne? This is just the kinda stunt you’d pull."

"Wayne????" The figure looked wounded. "I’m Freddy Krueger…doncha recognise me?"

"Really? said Jacqui, not even vaguely impressed with the charade. "Well Freddy, last thing I knew – you lost your head. I seem to remember Jason Voorhees striding out of Camp Crystal Lake holding it up for the audience. You winked, remember?"

"Yeah he can sure take punishment that one," the figure cackled to himself. "Dear old Jason. He’s here too you know. Wanna come in and meet him? We’re having quite a party."

"Tell us at least which grade you’re in then," piped-up Cyndi.

"That’d give it away," the figure retorted. "Come on, its Halloween - take a risk. Join us in some ghoulish excitement." So saying, the grotty apparition turned on its heels and headed back inside, leaving the front door open.

"Look, let’s get out of here," Jacqui urged them.

"Wait," said Jenny, "I gotta find out which one of those San Carlita losers he is. I’m sure its not Wayne. I figure its Mark. Look, if we all stick together we’ll be Ok – don’t think anyone’s gonna try anything this close to home."

Against her better judgment, Jacqui accompanied her friends as they trudged inside. The door closing behind them as they did so, did little to assuage her sense of danger.

"I can’t open it," she said stepping back and trying to turn the handle.

"Probably dead-locked," called out Lucy. "You need a key."

Further along the hallway, the sounds of a party in progress were plainly obvious. Not only was the air hot and cloying, it appeared that someone had gone overboard with a fog machine ripped-off from some horror-movie set most likely. Whitish vapor swirled around them, in places almost to knee level.

"God, someone’s blown their entire monthly allowance on the costuming and special effects here," muttered Bronwyn, though none too sure of herself.

An incredibly well lit room ran off to the left from the end of the hallway. Taking a few seconds to adjust, they could see several figures moving about. Many appeared to be girls, for the most part, barely into their teens. Some were dancing listlessly, others looking rather pale, as if they had tossed down one ecstasy tablet too many.

Over on the far wall and little more than swaying to the music, one arm around a tiny girl’s waist seemingly supporting her, could be seen another icon of cinematic pain. Pinhead in all his nailed glory stared at Jenny’s group as they moved through the room. The smile that spread slowly across his mutilated lips was highly disconcerting. Again, Lucy was thinking, just how realistic was that face-mask!

Cyndi was the first to be separated from the group. Trailing the others slightly, she felt her arm being tugged gently. Turning, she saw a young girl holding her wrist and motioning her towards a chair in the far corner of the room. Whether it was occupied or not she could not tell. Her question though was soon enough answered.

The Shape rose to meet her. She looked up in horror as the familiar blue-clad masked visage towered over her, the wicked knife grasped menacingly in his left hand. She would have screamed as he dragged her down in his lap but for the fact the hand across her mouth was fully immovable.

"Michael loves pretty blondes" whispered the girl who had drawn Cyndi to her fate. Several other young girls were now surrounding the chair and jostling together as if to secure a better view of proceedings. Her coat was pulled roughly from her shoulders before she felt her arms being seized on either side, forcing the realisation that whatever was planned for her, she had no viable options to hand.

 

 

 

The approaching black and red striped jumper meanwhile, indicated to the rest of the group, their host’s return.

‘Curiosity get the better of you did it Jenny?" The Krueger-figure smirked. "Follow me girls, someone here you might like to meet."

Threading their way through the smoky room they found themselves in another short hallway. A door to the right lay partly open and it was through here that they were being shepherded.

Contrasting with the dazzling lounge, this room was sombrely lit. Bright enough though for the four girls to take in the features of the tall shabby figure standing near the window. Not that they noticed much beyond the battered hockey-mask and the dark pupils glaring back at them from the hellish depths of those eye sockets.

"We have visitors Jason," said Freddy, closing the door behind him.

 

 

 

The hand across Cyndi’s mouth relaxed its grip, but only long enough to be replaced with duct-tape. She struggled uselessly. Whoever this was she was sitting on, was way too strong to argue with. She was thinking Hank, the school quarter-back but it just didn’t ‘feel’ like him. Speaking of feeling , fear turned to outright revulsion as one outsize hand suddenly clamped itself around her right breast and mauled her through her thin top. She shook her head in denial of what was happening to her, tears welling in her eyes. The hand crossed to her other breast now…..fondling, rubbing. She could but stare downwards.

With her arms held tightly, Cyndi had to tolerate the demeaning behavior. The cordon of girls observing her discomfort merely added to the humiliation. Fumbling at the top buttons unsuccessfully, her tormentor evidently was losing patience. She realised at that point that he had not uttered a word either to her or anyone else present. Ripping her flimsy cotton shirt now, she gasped inaudibly as her entire bra was exposed and she wriggled in embarrassment as the Shape thrust his hand roughly inside the flimsy material feeling her nipple and pulling it hard. Quite without warning the great knife inched up beneath the skerrick of material that held the two cups together. The ice-cold metal against her cleavage caused her to shudder uncontrollably. As the tip of the blade effortlessly severed the elastic, her bra fell open, exposing both breasts in their entirety. A collective gasp – whether of surprise or escalating female arousal, she couldn’t tell – encircled her. Blushing in spite of her fear, Cyndi awaited the next phase of her undeserved fate.

 

 

 

" None of the kids in our grade are that big," Lucy whispered to Jenny. The figure was approaching the four girls. They noticed lying atop a nearby bookcase a huge machete. Seemed to Jenny they had gone to great lengths to spare no detail in emulating their screen-horror originals. The outrageous hockey-masked stranger towered over them. Whether her imagination or not, Jenny was sure she caught a whiff of foetid breath.

"Don’t even think about it," said Jacqui, propelling herself to the front of the group. "You don’t scare us whoever the hell you are." She turned to Freddy. "As for you fuck-face, you’re just pathetic. A total loser who gets his kicks dressing up. Now, if you don’t wanna take that mask off and show us who you really are, you can just piss off and let us go home."

Before she had time to move, Jason had her around the throat and lifting her like a rag-doll, tossed her clean across the room on to a long sofa where she lay unconscious. The other three cowered in horror, unable or unwilling even to check the condition of their fallen comrade.

"You don’t want to upset Jason," said Freddy smiling, "He really has an anger-management problem." He had moved now alongside Bronwyn and was obscenely running his finger knives across the top of her breasts. Shrinking from the unwanted contact, she found her retreat blocked by a large wooden cabinet.

"Come into my world Bronwyn," he hissed at her and then to Lucy and Jenny’s total incomprehension, both figures completely disappeared. Not that they had exactly much time to ponder this enigma. Jason had seized Lucy by the arm and was dragging her to the sofa. Her screaming was cut cruelly short by a backhander that buckled her knees and all but caused her to pass out. Tossing Jacqui’s inert form on to the carpet he pulled Lucy into a sitting position and having shucked off her coat, had begun to systematically abuse her. Initially just fondling her breasts, Jenny could hear him making retarded noises of pleasure as he progressed to full-scale groping of her helpless body. Pushing her dress up, he seemed mesmerised by the view up between her legs and began experimentally prodding the front of her knickers with his fingers, grunting as he did so. Lucy was sobbing now and pleading with him to stop. She may as well have tried ordering an iced coffee.

Jenny had backed herself up to the door but to her horror, she found it was either locked or bolted in some fashion. It would not budge. All she could do was stare at her friend’s desperate predicament. It was only then that she became aware of Cyndi’s absence too, something that would have to take a back-seat to the current situation obviously.

Not content with pawing her, Jason had begun ripping her clothes. Lucy’s top was in tatters as he wrenched loose her bra straps, tugging the ruined lace completely off. Her breasts were fully exposed as she tried futilely to protect her modesty. Her brief panties he found even easier to rip from her body, literally tearing them from her hips. Jenny noticed his hand dropping now to his own crotch and just about frozen with horror she watched as between little more than animal noises, he pulled out his huge erection and began forcing Lucy’s legs apart as he pushed her back on the sofa. From what she could see, he was built like a horse and although she suspected Lucy was not still a virgin, she couldn’t be sure, and in any event what Jason was clutching now between her slim and quivering legs would surely have split a buffalo on heat!

 

 

 

Wondering desperately where her friends were, Cyndi had little time to contemplate such trivialities.

Michael Myers was hot. This girl he held in his lap was arousing him just as his sister had managed to do all those years ago and he knew what had to be done to girls who teased him with their bodies and minds. This one though he would first enjoy – make her regret her birthright. He began tugging the hem of her school uniform upwards and as she wriggled in an agony of distress his hands reached her knickers and he felt the heat up between the girl’s legs. He began to rub her there, enjoying the softness and the thrill of her fear and loathing.

Despite her untenable predicament, the constant pressure on her pussy was having its inevitable physical effect on Cyndi. She felt her nipples becoming erect and the outflow of blood causing her labia to engorge. Embarrassing as

her public groping was, her sexual debasement in front of so many other young girls was adding to her arousal rather than detracting from it. As his rough hand slipped beneath the hem of her briefs, she found herself unable to prevent her hips from arching upwards and fully encompassing his inbound fingers. Noting her reaction, Michael began fingering her until she was spreading her own legs with unenforced deliberation. Ripping the duct-tape from her mouth he let slip his mask and began kissing her passionately as she lost all sense of reality and acceptable moral behavior. She began now to caress her own breasts and to whimper for that which a girl on heat needs at such a time.

The stirrings between Michael’s legs brought back memories he would rather not bring back, nevertheless, they had to be answered. He turned the girl over effortlessly, face down now on top of him, her breasts free and compressed up against his unwashed blue top. Freeing up his erection as she half knelt astride him now, she had wriggled out of her knickers and with her bottom in full view of the youthful audience, she guided his unsighted but in truth massive erection right to the entrance of her pussy. It was only as he thrust up hard into her and with the benefit of her extreme lubrication, that she realised the size of the task she was handing herself.

She was filled to her abdomen and surely split already but so far beyond the point of no return it didn’t matter. As he brutally fucked her, she began crying out for harsher treatment, her eyes still closed in fully transported pleasure as her hips moved to accommodate his inhuman coupling. At the very point she felt her orgasm peaking, concurrent with his own incredible seminal discharge deep inside her, she opened her eyes – and saw Michael Myers for the first time clearly - without his mask.

She may well have screamed, but the wicked blade of his great knife made very short work of her vocal chords. Even as her throat, slit ear to ear, gushed out her life-blood, Myers stood up and having replaced his mask, callously tossed the girl’s body aside…to deafening applause from the onlookers

 

 

 

Understanding the difference between a written and an implied contract really is of remarkably little use when you find yourself isolated from reality and the sudden victim of an impossible occurrence. Bronwyn tried hard to fathom her predicament. That this was some kind of heating sub-basement was obvious from the outset. A furnace was visible the far end of the area in which she stood and from it, ran off steel piping – upwards to what looked like a steel gantry of sorts and along the walls and ceiling of the corridor behind her. She recognised the awful scene from one of the " Nightmare on Elm Street" movies. It was simply impossible. Insane laughter close by made her spin around. Krueger was ambling towards her making a screeching noise as he drew his finger knives along one of the pipes.

"H..How did I get here?" she asked in a voice understandably bereft of confidence.

"Your fear brought you here my sweet," he replied. "Eventually you all come to see old Freddy," His maniacal laughter echoed around the basement. She backed away as he approached, fanning the razor-sharp blades in her direction.

"B..b…but you’re just a character in a movie," she stammered, "You never existed!

"Oh, you’re sooo wrong Bronny….. may I call you that sweetheart?" He gloated at her shocked expression and distraught body-language. "I exist as much as you do……it’s Wes Craven who lied to you all - HE made everyone think it was just a film when he always knew the truth.EHE"

Before she could move, he leaned forward and drew the finger-knives down the sleeve of her coat. "Does that look real to you babe?" he asked. She stared in disbelieving horror at the five parallel slashes that had ruined the expensive material.

"You like nice clothes doncha Bronny," he grinned. "Wonder what other things you like?" He leered at her.

"It can’t be true," she sobbed, "It can’t be – I’m dreaming this. And anyway, this isn’t Elm Street…..its Mencole ."

"Think about it Bronny, think about it! You’re a bright girl – sure you can figure it out. Then we can get down to some serious fun here."

"Mencole Street??…she thought to herself, even as the letters began to re-arrange themselves in her head O N C E …E L M ….S T R E E T. She screamed.

Krueger was nodding. "You know what else is true sweetheart?" She shook her head, tears of desperation and hopelessness running down her face.

"All those little girls I molested," he sneered, "They were sooooo pretty!"

She could maybe have run but where to? This was his turf – his Hell…and now hers!

"Now come on sweetheart," he was cajoling her. "Lets get you better undressed for the occasion. I think we can dump that coat, its definitely seen better days." Seeing the gloved hand descend slowly, she pulled it off herself and tossed it on the ground.

"Good girl – Uncle Freddy loves girls who do as they’re told – saves having to spank them." He leered at her once more. "Long time since your daddy spanked you I’ll bet?" She nodded slowly.

"You know what? Uncle Freddy was a teacher once, he had to spank plenty of the little girls in his class to make them behave. The parents just didn’t understand. You think your daddy would mind if I spanked you a couple of times Bronny?"

She stared at him unmoving.

"I’ll take that as an OK then sweetheart," he cackled as he rested against the piping, one knee bent forward.

"C’mon honey, put yourself across my knee, let Uncle Freddy spank you."

"Nooooooo," she pleaded.

"Kids nowadays – I dunno" he muttered, gesturing towards her at the same time. She was powerless to stop herself stepping across to him. Even as she found herself bending over his leg she was willing herself to flee. She felt the flat of his gloved-palm as he rubbed the seat of her jeans obscenely.

"Well Bronny," he crooned, "That’s one hot little butt you have there, lets warm it up for you." So saying, he delivered a stinging blow to her rear which made her yelp.

"That good huh?" he teased, spanking her bottom hard and ensuring both cheeks received their fair share of punishment. She was sobbing continuously now.

"Brings back some pleasant memories," he muttered, "Mind if I bring back a few more?" She gasped as the belt around her waist appeared to undo itself and the buttons at the front of her jeans undid themselves one by one.

"Now come on Bronny you can either take your own jeans off or let Uncle Freddy do it for you." She hesitated, causing him to add "Sorry, but its not a multiple choice question."

Still sobbing, she wriggled out of her jeans, forced to display her hot little blue briefs to his lecherous ogling. The fact that she had a really curvy and compact little bottom was simply highlighted now by the skimpy semi-transparent material.

As she endured the next round of spanking she noticed that contrary to expectation, it was hurting less somehow and arousing her more. She knew she was arching her bottom upwads slightly to facilitate a better coverage.

"Told you we’d be having some fun didn’t I Bronny," he whispered to her. "Why not just get those hot little panties off altogether sweetheart and let Uncle Freddy work his magic for you." With almost indecent haste, she slipped her hands beneath the elastic and tugged the knickers down. She knew how arousing the sight of her naked young bottom must be for him. Were these her own feelings though or was Freddy messing with her mind. She had no way of knowing.

At the point her backside was near crimson, she was simply standing up now and allowing him to spank her freely as she stood there unmoving. She had an incredible urge to begin fingering herself but managed to overcome it.

Krueger, completely aroused himself by the sight of the young girl’s glowing bottom, brought the punishment to an end and told her to turn around. She did so, knowing full well he would be able to see her pubic hair and the rather pronounced mound of her pussy.

"Take the rest of your clothes of for me Bronny," he ordered, "Strip for me sweetheart."

Gone was her fear of him or of her predicament. All she wanted was to please him and to tease him. Having removed her top, she took her time unhooking the crocheted bra and pulling the straps down her arms, before dropping it atop the small pile of clothes by her feet.

"Come to me," was all he said, Willingly she stood before him and as he inclined his head to lick first one nipple then the other, she shivered with expectation. Burnt, twisted, insane and ugly as all hell he might be, but at that second she wanted him to suck her.

She didn’t even think it odd as milk began to express from her nipples. The feeling of incredible arousal as he sucked one side then the other, while milk dripped from both rapidly re-filling breasts onto the bare floor as she swayed against him. "Why buy it when you can get it at home for free," he smirked.

"Let’s see you sucking something now sweetheart," he grinned.

With no hesitation, she dropped to her knees and unzipping her tormentor, drawing out (given the remainder of his deformities) a somewhat normal erection. With absolutely no prior experience of such intimacies, she seemed to know precisely what was expected of her. Krueger leaned back, a self satisfied smirk playing about his lips as the girl drew down on his unremarkable appendage. "That’s a good girl," he muttered, as his pleasure increased threefold.

"Get down on your knees Bronny," he ordered her suddenly. Obediently she did as he asked, knowing what was to come. She even made sure her bottom was well elevated, and her knees wide apart. Krueger was no considerate lover. Thrusting up into the girl’s compliant little pussy he had but one all-consuming need - to vent his lust.

Motivated also to cause as much pain as was possible, nearing his own finality he relinguished the mind control over his unfortunate victim. At the last second therefore, Bronwyn became aware for the first time of the full horror and degradation that was now her lot. She felt the utter debasement of being naked whilst suffering the most cruel of rapes at the hand of this diabolical monster.

It wasn’t a problem for long though. Even as she cried out from the pain of the enforced intercourse, she felt Krueger ejaculate deep inside her, his cum like acid, burning her vaginal walls. Another pain then of unbelievable intensity and agony. She stared down between her milk-stained breasts as the points of the five razor fingers emerged between multiple bloody spurts, from an area just above her abdomen. The neat little glasses with lenses by " Jeunique " fell to the floor. Mercifully then, it all faded to black.

 

 

 

 

 

As Jenny stared horrified at Lucy’s imminent fate, she was still trying to make sense of Bronwyn’s disappearance and most everything else that had happened.

Poor Lucy had been forced as far back in the lounge as space permitted and was obviously resigned to her upcoming ordeal. Not even bothering to try covering up her breasts any longer she was simply shaking her head in denial as Jason, half-kneeling there, forced the head of his monstrous erection inside her gaping slit.

"Please, it’s hurting," she begged, placing her hands around the intruder in an effort to readjust herself. Jason merely grunted, commenced groping her breasts lewdly and forced himself even further into her. In spite of the situation, Jenny was shocked to feel her own wetness spreading at the sight.

One last thrust and he was fully inside her. Lucy was sobbing unrestrainedly now as he began to rape her viciously. As his thrusts increased in intensity Lucy’s resistance began to crumble and she let her arms drop at her sides as her lower body suffered unspeakable violation. At the stage she passed-out completely, Jason simply laid her flat on the sofa, climbed up between her legs which he spread impossibly wide and then began fucking her with such force her entire body shuddered with each thrust. Jenny noticed with horror, blood starting to seep copiously from Lucy’s pussy as Jason showed less than no mercy for his victim as he slaked his abnormally cruel thirst.

Looking around in desperation, she saw the machete glinting on top of the bookcase. Jason now was undoubtedly on the home stretch, grunting continuously as he rammed home his argument for male supremacy. Getting swiftly to her feet and retrieving the somewhat heavy weapon, she was able to tip-toe up behind the semi-prostrate form who’s back had been to her for the duration. The screen-Jason may be unkillable she was thinking, this dude however was about to be suffering big-time. Even as she raised the machete, aiming to drive the blade down into his neck and spine, Jason shook with the exertion of coming hard in the girl’s inert body.

Either her aim was off fractionally or he moved to the left marginally, but the blade sank into his right shoulder. Not flinching, despite the gouts of blood splattering her face, her clothes and most everything else for a three foot radius, she forced the blade down almost to the hilt. It must have taken out his right lung, major muscle tissue, half his rib-cage and his aorta to judge by the fountains gushing from the wound. With but a strangled "Ughhhhh" the huge body toppled to the floor and lay still, right alongside Jacqui who appeared now to be stirring slightly.

With the adrenaline in full flow, Jenny leaned over the friend she had known since pre-school and attempted to revive her. The amount of blood still seeping from her vaginal area was sickening. The rape she knew could quite possibly lead to serious gynaecological repercussions. Probably already had. Worse though, Lucy was not responding and beside herself with shock and anxiety now, she felt for a pulse. There was none. Lucy’s pallor was deathly and instinctively Jenny knew she had lost her friend. It was a question now of getting out with the others – assuming she could find them. Jacqui at least was sitting up and rubbing her neck.

"Jacqui, Jacqui," she muttered shaking her softly. "We gotta get out of here. Lucy’s been raped….she’s dead I think….the other two are missing. You got to help me now…..c’mon, get up you’re OK!"

Coming to her senses, Jacqui looked around and saw Lucy lying on the sofa, her legs still apart and the blood running out of her. Simultaneously she saw "Jason’s" body, blood still pumping from the horrific wound.

"Oh fuck Jenny, what happened here?"

"You don’t want to know," she replied. "Look, the door’s locked Jac – think we can get it open somehow?"

"You mean like this girls?" came a muffled voice from the other side. The door opened inwards ushering in anyone’s worst nightmare. Pinhead, Freddy Krueger and Michael Myers.

"OK, OK, you’ve had you’re fun," muttered Jacqui bravely. "Can we please just go now?"

"You entered freely my child," replied Pinhead. "Unfortunately we cannot grant you the same freedom when it comes to your departure."

"Please, please just tell us who you are,." Jenny pleaded, close to breaking point.

"As I explained to young Bronwyn," Krueger chuckled, "We are who you all refuse to believe us to be."

"Sure," replied Jacqui, and turning to the figure on the far right, "So you really are Michael Myers right?" The Shape just looked across at her, the dead eyes studying her every movement.

"Yes, that is Michael," Krueger responded. He is as real as any of us and he has finally come home.

"Well from what I ever knew," Jacqui was continuing, "Michael Myles lived in a place called Haddonfield."

"Exactly," said Krueger. "Haddonfield it most definitely was….Haddonfield, Illinois." He looked across at Jenny, grinning triumphantly.

Something was wrong, she knew it. Why had Krueger said Haddonfield, Illinois? A hazy notion was asserting itself in her head. Reality swum before her eyes as she struggled to discount the logic that was unwillingly piecing together the greatest joke of all. H A D D O N F I E L D …….the letters blurred suddenly of their own accord, reforming, despite her struggling denial of the truth D……..…E…..….A ……..D……..D….O…L….F..H.I N.

"Oh my God Jacqui," she cried out…and Mencole Street….. Elm Street Once!

Freddy was tipping his hat. "At your service girls!"

Their horrific momentary realisation was interrupted by a scuffling sound behind them, causing the two girls to spin round. Jason Voorhees had gotten to his feet and quite visibly enraged, was pulling the machete slowly from his mutilated shoulder, quite oblivious to the blood pouring from the open wound. He strode now towards the girls. Krueger held his hand up. "Not now Jason, this isn’t the time. Come over here with your friends." Begrudgingly, the murderous hulk took up his place alongside Myers.

Pinhead who had been fumbling with something, suddenly tossed it to Jacqui who caught the thing mid-flight. An intricately carved and gilded wooden cube, she looked at the item she was holding. "What is this?’ she asked, her voice quivering under the influence of a fully unfamiliar condition – abject fear!

"Don’t touch it Jacqui, whatever you do don’t touch it," Jenny cried out. It’s the Lament Configuration – the gateway to Hell itself……didn’t you ever see HELLRAISER?"

Too late, the top of the box had lifted and turned in her friend’s hands. As it settled into a new pattern a dazzling aperture appeared in the wall behind Jacqui.

"Oh, we have such sights to show you girl" declared Pinhead, as ill-defined but chillingly morbid shapes and similarly mutilated forms reached through the charnal opening and in the instant, dragged Jacqui screaming into their cruel and pain-loving dimension. The chasm closed instantly leaving Jenny alone and quite beyond rational thought.

"Pain and pleasure are but one and the same child," Pinhead said. "You will learn this in time." As he spoke, chains with hooks appeared from the ceiling and caught each of her arms embedding themselves in her thin wrists. She screamed with pain as her arms were jerked high above her head and held tightly apart. Pinhead remained where he was, smiling at her vulnerable and agonised state.

Michael Myers moved towards the stranded and helpless girl and lifting the point of his knife to her navel slit her top and bra in one movement. Despite the pain of her wounds she gasped as her small but beautifully formed breasts were exposed to the four of them. Shuddering fitfully, she stared downwards as Myer’s knife point began to tease her right nipple.

Worse was to come. Jason Voorhees towered over her before slipping the machete cruelly down the front of her neat little tartan skirt, itself stained now by the droplets of blood trickling down from her lacerated wrists. Whimpering with fear she flinched as the cold steel caressed her thighs. The sudden retracted movement of the blade tore her skirt asunder, causing it to fall to the floor a useless rag and leaving her trembling and shaking in just her panties. Her embarrassment was complete, as triggered by her escalating funk, her bladder relinquished its contents, drenching her knickers before initiating warm trickles down both thighs as she stood there unable to fully comprehend the dreadful circumstances now surrounding her.

The chains pulled her arms even higher and as she screamed again in pain, Krueger stepped up close to the terrified girl and with exaggerated dexterity brought his finger-knives up between her legs right to the point of her sopping wet panties. Even as his razored finger began to serrate the soft nylon along the full length of her pussy he rasped at her, the cruellest of smiles in attendance.

"So what’s it gonna be Jenny….. trick or treat?"

 

 (c) October 31 2004

http://www.lulu.com/noel">http://www.lulu.com/noel">http://www.lulu.com/noel

    Barely had the red planet exited the portside viewing window when a discernible vibration became evident towards the rear of the cavernous interior. With practiced dexterity, Yalgon passed his hand across the transparent shield immediately to the right of the cloaking-crystal, his thumb and sixth finger spanning their normal one-eighty degree coverage. Almost immediately the skeletal structure of the craft in technical cross-section, appeared on-screen in sharp image, white outline against blue background. A second pass of Yalgon’s hand displayed what may have been a lower deck. Towards the rear, surrounded by an intricacy of fabricated structural-metal framework, a circular disc appeared to be glowing a blood red color.

    Having by necessity to attend a business seminar in Cincinatti mid July that year and with a week or so to kill before flying on to join a marketing delegation in New York, I decided to "discover" Ohio, heading east along Interstate 52 in the general direction of Portsmouth then north to Columbus and east to Youngstown via Pittsburgh PV. The plan was good, the reality something else.

    Just twenty miles out from Cincinnati, New Richmond typifies small-town America. The quaintest of villages and with a population just pre the new millennium, of barely 2200 people including just five permanently stationed Police officers, lets just say that rush-hour had yet to prove an issue.

    Peckish, having passed-up on breakfast, I decided this was as good a spot as any to indulge my stomach lining. Pulling off the Interstate that runs pretty much through the town center, I cruised a couple of side-streets until a cute little eatery called "The Landing" took my fancy on Front Street.

    Devoid of customers, I had the pick of the table settings and chose one set in to a small niche near the panoramic window that overlooked Front Street itself. Clean and bright, "The Landing" was quite obviously a family business to judge by the many framed photographs around the wall. I was studying one that might well have been the building itself at the turn of the century, when a glass and jug of iced water were set down in front of me, by the most appealing of young ladies.

   "Can I get you something?" she smiled sweetly, those finely shaped dark eyebrows suggesting that perhaps the shoulder-length, rather pretty blonde hair was not her natural birthright, not that this could ever have detracted from the overall package you understand. The only thing I wanted her to get me right that second was a room we might share across the way at the small cottage that I noted was advertising itself as a bed and breakfast stop-over. I noticed the name-tag just above the curve of her right breast. What I would have given to be that pin!

   "Well Amy," I said, "A plate of hotcakes and coffee might just about hit the spot."

    She scribbled the order down on her pad and handed me another of those smiles that all but closed down my options for thinking straight. "Sure," she added, turning on her heels and thereby presenting me with a highly therapeutic aspect of her shapely little bottom, covered that it was unfortunately, by a tight skirt whose hemline one imagines, might in later years, dredge-up more victims than a Venus fly trap!

    In her absence, I glanced once more at the many prints on display on the far wall also. One in particular stood out. Quite obviously a very recent picture of Amy herself, the girl slumped prettily in the chair, her legs draped over one arm. Dressed in her school uniform, the pose bridged the gap between innocence and provocative tease quite effortlessly. The top few buttons of her plain white blouse were undone allowing the material to gape slightly - if not suggestively then interestingly at least. The close proximity of her delicate fingers handed one the impression that given the right script, she might be persuaded to undo a couple more. The tease-factor was heightened further in as much as her black and white check skirt exposed a sufficiency of the underside of both slim legs at that angle, so that in normal circumstances her panties would have been acutely visible, were not it for the winter cotton leggings she was wearing in the photo and which left the viewer simply to contemplate what might have been. Shoe-less and with one leg resting demurely across the other, she was an angel.

    I was still pondering that which was hidden when my hot-cakes made an appearance.

    "Maple syrup?" she asked politely, proffering the easy-pour container on the tray she was holding.

   "Oh yeah!" I replied. "What would hotcakes be without maple syrup?"

   "You're not American are you?" she drawled. "Kind of a cute accent though...are you English?"

   "Sorta," I answered, more than happy to engage her in whatever conversation was on offer. "Australian actually Amy - well, I was born in Britain but have lived in Sydney, Australia since I was eighteen."

    Right at that moment another family walked in, totally icing the momentum and sat down at the table opposite. I had the impression Amy's preference was to stay and chat, though she muttered dutifully, "I'd better go get those people a menu." I could have watched that curvy retreat until those hotcakes were stone cold!

    The arrival of my coffee presented one last small window of opportunity. Gazing outside, I made the comment that I might take a stroll down to the Ohio river and check out the scenery, it appearing to be little more than a shortish walk from the restaurant itself.

    "Rivers up again," she said, following my glance and looking quite concerned. "Flooded so bad last year - way up Front street, she gestured up towards Quarry Street and the Interstate. "Its soo beautiful though," she added as an afterthought, "There's this real neat lookout just a-ways upriver - you can see for miles across the Kentucky flatlands."

    So pretty was she at that moment, my heart ached for her and I yearned to hold her to me, fully oblivious to the chronic age-difference and the fact that she was probably no more than a few years older than my youngest daughter.

   "I'd really like to see it Amy," I told her, "But I really don't have the time to go looking. Maybe next time I'm through this way?" Even as I spoke the words I felt their emptiness. Reality dictated that I would in all probability, never set foot in New Richmond again. For the merest fraction of a second, she looked at me...deep inside.

   "I'm off at twelve," she whispered, "I could show you!"

    Hardly able to believe what she was saying, I must have looked like a tongue-tied juvenile. I glanced at my watch - it was already 10.50. "I'd be honored sweetie," I replied. "Want me to pick you up kerbside?" She nodded just as a slightly embittered male voice called out "You gonna take our order Miss or what?" Obviously embarrassed, she left the table.

    By the time I finished my coffee and settled-up the bill including a healthy tip, there was but fifty minutes or so to account for. I figured I would go fill up the rental car and check out a few of the shops along Main Street.

    Even as I pulled the Pontiac over, right outside "The Landing," Amy had stepped out on to the sidewalk and was walking to the car. I leaned across and opened the passenger door. Sliding onto the bench seat in that ultra-short skirt did wonders for the visuals. I don't think she even realised. Having changed into smart casual clothes, she was a total teenage dream. Whatever delicate scent that was also, merely heightened the overall effect. Thank God I had taken out full travel health insurance.

   "So, which way sweetheart?" I asked, forcing my eyes back on the roadway as opposed to allowing them their natural inclination of focusing at key points along those wonderfully slim legs.

   "Ohh, back that way," she exclaimed, pointing east along Front Street. I performed a quick u-turn, which in the total absence of any traffic was anything but a challenge.

   "How old are you Amy?" I asked, trying not to make it sound overly intrusive.

   "I've just turned sixteen," she barely whispered, but then blushing momentarily as I glanced across at her, "I hope you don't think I make a habit of doing this er,..."

   "Noel" I smiled..."and no...I'm sure you don't Amy. I would like to ask you just one question though if I may."

   "What's that?" she replied softly.

   "I'm just curious why you decided to make that offer to me sweetie? You're very young and its taking a big risk. I'm sure your parents would not approve."

    Now she really was blushing. "I don't honestly know," she muttered. "Something about you. I knew I'd be safe and I just wanted to take you there and show you the river."

    I smiled at her once again. "Well your instincts serve you well Amy. Yes you are safe - well unless I stop taking my medication that is!" She giggled delightfully.

   "To be honest," I continued, I have three lovely daughters at home just like you sweetheart. One twelve, another thirteen and the eldest just about your age. She's in ninth grade, same as you I'm guessing?"

    Amy nodded, before asking "No boys?"

   "Yep, one of them too," I grinned. "Chris is the eldest. He's eighteen and just finished High School. We were now at the end of Front street and crossing over to Susanna Way.

   "We follow this road right to the end," she announced, "Then I'll show you where the lookout is."

   "Sounds good," I replied, easing my foot off the gas. It's remarkably easy to hit fifty on an empty straight road. Well as it happened, Amy really didn't have to direct me to the lookout at all, since Susanna Way comes to an abrupt end before veering north into Augustus Street. Right at that point a spur road leads south almost to the river's edge. To the right a rather attractive lookout has been built up in a lightly treed area which obviously affords welcome relief mid-summer. Nosing-in to the deserted parking area, I killed the motor. I could see why she had brought me here.

    The sun glinted off the Ohio, and beyond as Amy had said, the gentle Kentucky plains stretched as far as the eye could see. A gentle heat-haze wavered marginally above ground level, imperceptibly distorting one's vision of the flatlands the far side of the river. One or two private boats were navigating their way east, adding to the scenic tranquility.

    "Its very beautiful here Amy," I muttered, knowing that this was an understatement of some magnitude. She looked across at me and with no reason for doing so - I held out my hand to her. Having equally no reason to take it, she grasped my hand softly and I pulled her to me.

    Words became superfluous, the age difference merely a statistic. I had always been going to kiss her, right from the moment I walked into that restaurant. I think I knew it even then. The moment our lips met I knew I was safe. Shielded from the harshness and cruelties that life deals out, Amy was sanctuary. She may have been only sixteen, but it was I felt the child. She returned my kisses with a gentle passion all her own, held me tightly and murmured softly as I ran my fingers through her hair whilst caressing her gently as might the unselfish lover.

    Hot morning that it was, her warmth infiltrated my whole being. I needed her and wanted her above all things but this I knew had to be on her terms only. Simply holding and kissing her was an experience to savor, a privilege to appreciate, the rarest of check-points in the game of life itself. Just for a moment she broke off from kissing me and looked up, her eyes - part promising, part pleading....wholly needful.

    My left hand closed around her small yet incredibly soft and yielding breast. Immediately her eyes glazed over and she let out an involuntary cry of surprise. I kissed once more that delicate little open mouth through which breath so fresh was issuing, in time with her increased respiratory rate. For several moments I continued fondling her gently, knowing full well she had never done this before and that some facet of her biological clock had told her that today was her day of learning.

    Easing my hand across to her other breast, I began manipulating the nipple through the thin cotton top she had on. Whether she realised it or not I could detect a slight forward thrusting of both breasts as she became more at ease with my ministrations. The occasional whimper of pleasure was beginning to escape her lips and at the point I began undoing the top few buttons of her blouse, she merely lay back against the seat, watching my progress as one might observe a spider weaving its artistry.

    Inclining my head towards her now fully exposed bra cups, I kissed the softness beneath, aware of the sharp intake of breath as she became aware, probably for the first time, the power inherent in her feminine birthright. She was just so beautiful. Kissing her once more on the lips, I allowed my hand to slip inside her bra, feeling its exquisitely designed contents and deliberately passing my fingers across her nipple. Her eyes opened wide, but she made no attempt to restrict my exploration - even when I slipped my hand inside the other cup, gently manipulating that delicate bud between my thumb and forefinger.

    That she was small, even by mid-teenage standards was nothing but an added attraction for me. Maintaining steady eye contact with her, which I sensed was reinforcing both her trust and my unspoken intentions to cause her no discomfort - real or metaphysical, I eased both shoulder straps down her arms, gently lowering the silky material until both curvy little breasts were fully exposed. Momentarily she looked so vulnerable. I admired her brave resolve in a situation quite obviously foreign to her and one that a very young girl has no real control of.

    I was mesmerised myself. Those wonderfully sculptured mounds of youthful femininity lay proudly displayed before me. Leaning forwards, I kissed her right breast softly, as with my free hand I caressed her the other side. It was at the point my lips drew down on her nipple that first time that I felt, rather than heard, her whimper softly. Raising her arms she held me to her, as I suckled her nipples one after the other. Her eyes closed now, she thrust her breasts out proudly, imploring me to suck harder which as it just so happened, dove-tailed with my own agenda.

    How long we engaged in that wonderful closeness I couldn't say, but inevitably, desire and accumulated hormonal back-up opened the flood-gates. Still sucking gently on her nipples as she lay back against the seat smiling dreamily, my hand sought the warmth of a quite different locale. Sliding the hemline of her skirt up beyond the realms of modesty, I slipped my hand between her legs feeling the softness of her inner thighs and the latent heat that resided there. Amy gave a cry of probable genuine girlish shock and murmured "Nooo not there please...I'm still a virgin."

    Her words however were fully contradicted by her body language which saw her part her legs marginally and she begin to kiss me with what I could only describe as an increased passion. Again, my hand sought refuge in that reclusive tunnel and at the point the tips of my fingers reached the front of her panties, she began to breathe hard. Rubbing her there softly she began to moan, needing me to kiss her harder and quite obviously requiring my complicity in whatever was to follow.

    Seemingly acclimatized to sitting there topless now, she even whispered softly "Do you really think I'm pretty?" It was as dumb a question as ever I have been asked.

   "I doubt there is a prettier or more desirable girl on this planet right this second sweetheart," I assured her. It was the undoubted truth.

    Beginning now to rub her the full length of her pussy, albeit through those skimpy little white-lace knickers that were even now peeking out from beneath her rumpled skirt, Amy's soft cries of pleasure were escalating. There was only one option indicated.

    Slipping a finger up beneath the elastic I discovered a warm and well-furred terrain that curved down and inwards to an ingress of near volcanic heat that on approach, caused its owner to wriggle perceptibly while whimpering in what may have been semi-embarrassed pleasure. I certainly wasn't embarrassed!

   "No one's ever done this to me," she whispered between little gasps. I already suspected as much but was pleased beyond measure to hear her confirmation of such. Incredibly tight as you might imagine, I was only able to get a finger inside her with due patience and diligence. It was worth it though. I couldn't rightly say how pleasurable it was for her but from my perspective it was at the upper end of Nirvana.

   When fingering a young girl of existing virginal status, there is a fine line indeed between pain and pleasure - your pleasure, her pain!. It is very important to ensure that she is as relaxed as possible and that you treat her nether regions as you might a Ming vase - with respect and gentility. Amy as it turned out was a Grade A student. Shy and giggly - unrelentingly sexy attributes, both! The further inwards I delved with my finger the louder her gasps and the wider she spread those slender legs of hers. Thinking to round off the lesson for the day, I located her clitoral hood and set up a vibratory pattern there-upon that had her fully unable to sit still. I had almost forgotten, such was my concerted application, the degree of arousal such activity was bequeathing my own procreative equipment.

   "Oh gosh," she moaned delightfully as the first of several pre-orgasmic tremors radiated outwards from vaginal ground zero. Her expression right then was that of a sexy young schoolgirl caught using the library's computer to partake of some illicit chat with her boyfriend. I could ill-afford to slacken of my ministrations and thus I began to kiss her hard on the lips at the same time increasing the pressure on her quite obviously engorged clitoris.

    I could feel the quake building and as she neared what I knew must be her first full-on orgasm at the behest of any male partner's fingers, I felt her legs closing up on auto-pilot. I took her to the edge - nature dragged her over!

    If there is anything sexier than a young girl locked-in to a doozy of an orgasm then I have no idea what it is. In Amy's case, it was to die for. Fully incapable of rational dialogue, all she could muster was a series of 'Ohhhhs" as wave after wave of coalesced pleasure wracked her slim frame. Watching as she slid a hand down between her own legs lending merely some token comfort to her abused little slit was simply icing on the cake.

    Gradually she opened her pretty eyes. Flushed silly, but feeling I imagine extraordinarily healthy, she smiled up at me. "I can't believe I just let you do that....but it felt so good," she giggled, pulling her bra straps back up and wriggling her skirt down to her knees as she spoke. There is something just so inherently arousing observing a girl do that, most especially a teenager.

    It was about that moment I remembered that I had needs of my own and watching what I just had, hardly qualified as a pacifier. With no particular expectation of reactivating the magic, I just pulled her to me once again and telling her truthfully just how beautiful she was, kissed her with all the passion that I possessed.

    It was different this time - more a sense of urgency from her viewpoint. The harder I kissed her the tighter she wrapped her arms around my neck. Our words and intimacies became more subtle - less believable, but Oh how wonderful it was. Could I have known her long enough to actually love her? It didn't matter, I whispered it aloud as I drank in her youth, her warmth...the whole essence of her being. For her part, she clung to me, not as a father-daughter might, not as a newly come-by lover should, but as only conjoined souls are able - on that empirical level that embraces awareness and inseparable affection.

    I don't even remember her kneeling in front of me - my back now to the seat. I have no recollection of sliding her panties down and her then straddling my hips with her own. I knew my hands were caressing her soft and pliant young bottom and that she was somehow urging me on to greater daring. Vaguely I was aware that she had pulled her bra up once again, freeing up both almost child-like breasts that now she was encouraging me to suckle erotically as I took such delight in the rest of her body.

   "Be gentle" I heard her whimper as my erection pressed unerringly up between her legs. Had I asked this of her? Had this day been planned in cosmic realms unknown, eons ago? Now was not the time to ponder the mysteries of life however and kissing her passionately I left it to Amy to guide me in to the promised land. I felt her lips separating, the moisture on site and the tightest of channels barring my way. I'm sure she was crying softly whilst bearing down with her own hips, though I could no more contribute to her pain than I could withdraw from this field of dreams.

    My only tools of trade - compliant lips and soothing words of affection were but a poor man's anaesthesia yet she braved the worst of it for me with no audible complaint. One last thrust downwards as I winced for her and then I felt all hymenal resistance fade and I was able to slip deep inside her. This was a new world order, one that I was no more in control of than she was. All I knew - I desired her more than any girl before her. Yet this desire curiously, I knew was founded purely on love not lust.

    As my own needs escalated in direct proportion to my deepening penetration of that semi-exposed cavern between her legs, I began to thrust up into her, even as she started to whimper aloud for me to cum inside her so that she might feel it. I gave no thought as to the possible consequences, merely fulfilling my sexual capacity in the best interests of Mother Nature. Holding her hips tightly, I spurted all I had to give, probably more - deep inside her vaginal corridor. Even as I pumped in those last few stragglers, the glow which spread across her face rendered all words obsolete.

    Afterwards she just lay against me, wanting me to caress her hair and cheeks. She let me pull her panties back up, which served also to stem the tide of semen trickling down the inside of her thighs. It was all so ethereal and left-field of the real-time somehow.

    We sat cuddled-up in that car for several hours watching life slip-by peacefully on the Ohio. I think I kissed her insensible. Eventually she told me she had to be back at 6 p.m. for her evening shift. I couldn't bear it, but of course I had to drop her off.

    The tears were still in free-fall even as I made the outskirts of Columbus that night.

(c) Peter_Pan 2006

 "Harper Valley: A Postscript" the sequel to "The Complete Harper     Valley" has just been released: http://www.lulu.com/content/402381

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    We have neither corresponded or been in contact with one another all that time.

    Just twenty-four now herself, her communique filled in those missing years whilst mine back to her, achieved a similar purpose. She wrote of her regret that we were apparently never to see each other again and that for quite some time afterwards, she had cried herself to sleep wishing she could have spent more time with me. Fortuitous though it was that she had not fallen pregnant that day. Such an eventuality quite obviously not the ideal upshot, with two years of school yet to run.

    I confided to her that my on-going journey to Columbus and beyond that evening, was not without great sadness to myself and that had it not been for my strict work itinerary, my impulse was to go back to New Richmond and tell her that which I felt, despite the inappropriate age-difference.

   "Well I don't live all that far from there now," she emailed, "Do you still feel like coming back to tell me?"

    Having been a creature of impulse all my life, I was on the first plane out of Sydney, Tuesday morning.

    Barely four weeks since I completed the same thirteen-and-a-half hour haul out to 'Frisco en route to Denver, at least I could look forward to a different forwarding flight - to Columbus this time. I felt like a drive - which was just as well, Springfield is some ninety-five minutes due west of the city (OK, eighty minutes the way I drive) along Interstate 70.

    Picking up a Chrysler Sebring from a cute little brunette, resident at Thrifty's sales desk at Columbus International, I hit the highway, wondering what seven years or so might have done to my recalled images of young Amy. Then I glanced in the rear-vision mirror. Yikes! what had those same years wreaked on my crowning glory, not to mention that unsightly roll gathering prominence around my waistline. For a moment I hoped that her looks had faded too - somewhat levelling the playing field, I rationalised.

    The Marriott Courtyard on South Fountain, sandwiched between West Main and West High Streets is a class act any way you look at it and the food they dish up in the Meta Urban bistro there is worth a stay in itself.

    Unpacking the small amount of luggage I had brought, I called Amy's cellphone, it being mid-afternoon.

   "Hello," she answered, almost shyly. The soft voice sounded exactly as I remembered it.

   "Is it too late in the day for hotcakes?" I enquired.

    I suspect she was about to say "Pardon me?" but then I heard a little gasp of surprise instead.

   "Is that you Noel?" she asked breathlessly. "Are you in Springfield already?"

   "Well either that, or you're talking to some incredibly well- programmed hologram sweetheart," I told her. "Yep just checked into the Marriott Courtyard Hotel - you know where that is?"

   "Oh yes," she answered, "Want me to come over now?"

   "Up to you," I countered. "You can just send me an email instead if you prefer." She giggled...the most delightful of girlish attributes.

   "I'll take my chances," she whispered.

   "Silly girl," I replied hitting "end call." Wonderful thing international roam!

    Not forty minutes later, the lightest of knocks on my door.

   "Thank God, my hot-cakes at last." I said, swinging wide the door to my suite.

    Takes a lot to surprise me. What stood on my thresh-hold definitely surprised me. Now she looked only nineteen...if that! Same hair, same face - same beautiful figure..absolutely nothing changed. I was almost embarrassed to be there.

   "OK Amy," I muttered "This some sort of illusion? You got George Lucas' Industrial Light and Magic working on your case? What's the story here?...you hardly look a day different!"

    Her blushing just made her look younger still.

   "Well, I guess you may as well come in sweetheart." I told her, taking her arm and propelling her into my room. Catches like this you definitely don't toss back in the river.

   "Would you like a drink Amy?" I asked, glancing towards the mini-bar. "Nothing less than ten bucks a can I'd be guessing. Maybe if we both have one they'll discount the bill at check-out?"

   "Why don't we go out and have something?" she suggested, smiling prettily.

    I wasn't really listening, taking in the vision standing there. Short but ultimately tasteful little midnight-blue skirt, cream colored top with lacy edging and the same tiny gold pendant she had worn that day in New Richmond. Flawless little face with not a line to suggest she was now approaching her mid twenties. Her blonde shoulder-length hair was cut much the same as it had been all those years ago. Worse, my fully depraved faculties were wishing she had worn that sexy little school uniform again. I thought it best not to mention this particular fact.

    Putting my arm around her waist, I found a pair of lips in close proximity to my own. Does a cat pass-up a sparrow within a paw's reach? No way - nor was I likely to allow so golden an opportunity to pass unchecked.

    She tasted even better. Slipping her arms around my neck, she returned my kiss with much the same passion I recall us mustering that day down by the Ohio river.

   "Yeah, well about that little walk," I coughed nervously. Another few moments like this and the "do not disturb" sign would have been getting a work-out!

    Again that cheekiest of smiles. I just grabbed her hand and we took off.

    Strolling northwards along Fountain Avenue we came across a hospitable little eatery called "Station 1." Whilst not exactly a five star restaurant....it is after all, eat-in or take-away, the menu was good and the décor acceptable. I had me an enormous ham and turkey club sandwich that was big enough to need scaffolding, while Amy settled for their "Philly Cheesesteak" - a tempting steak, onion, peppers and provolone creation that would satisfy anyone nudging starvation. We shared a plate of french fries.

    Conversationally we touched on anything and everything from recalled moments of shared intimacy that day in New Richmond, to "Dubya's" likely short-term hold on the Presidency. I learned that Amy was basically unattached, as was I of course, and that despite the occasional boyfriend, no one had yet put down a holding deposit. Not that Amy herself had come across anyone likely to be invited to do so.

    Pigged-out and refreshed, we strolled back along Main Street looking at a few shops but ultimately conversation of a wholly different nature seemed to be indicated and thus we returned to the Courtyard.

    Seating herself demurely on the edge of the bed while I shifted a few things into the cupboard, she giggled softly.

   "This is way comfier than last time I was with you."

    Whether by design or accident, I rather think the latter, I could hardly fail to notice suddenly that the hemline of her skirt had shifted well up her thighs and if that wasn't a glimmer of enticing light-colored material snuggling up there just beyond the periphery of my up-skirt vision, then fancy was outstripping reality.

    I sat down beside her.

    "You thinking what I'm hoping?" I asked her softly.

    "Uh huh," was all she muttered. It was all she had to.

     The thing about lacy little blouses is, they're such fun to unbutton. Most especially when beneath, one comes across the skimpiest of silky bras that the designers have so thoughtfully equipped with a front clasp. Even as Amy lay back on the coverlet, her hair splayed attractively all over the pillow, I kissed her still rather petite breasts through the almost transparent material whilst dexterously unhooking her bra cups. Sliding them aside, her pretty breasts lay exposed to my vision just as they had all those years ago. I desired them equally and even as I drew down softly on her right nipple, feeling imminently, the softness swell between my lips, I could sense her body tensing momentarily - not with any trepidation I knew, but rather the knowledge of what was to come.

   "You are the most beautiful girl Amy," I whispered to her, running my hands across both breasts and teasing her nipples to the erect stage I think we both wanted to see them. She looked up me with the same vulnerable appeal that she had that day when still sixteen and I caressed her hair and kissed her gently on the lips.

    I think it was at that point it turned serious!

    She made no move to resist me as I tugged that tight little skirt higher, exposing fully now her pastel blue undies...which, if not a girl's most erotically charged undergarment, is the gateway to unfettered pleasured fantasy.

    Applying the gentlest of friction to the front of her panties I revelled in her escalating desire and slipping my hand beneath the waistband, located the true heat source, concealed as it was 'midst a downy softness that no man-made fibre could replicate.

    Hastily peeling her panties down I separated her labia and commenced a lateral caress of her wonderfully soft and moist inner lips. Her wide-eyed acceptance of her immediate fate fully approved and date-stamped.

   "Do I have to tell you what I felt that night Amy as I drove away from New Richmond?" I muttered softly, kissing her intermittently.

   "I had tears in my eyes all the way back to Columbus," if you really want to know." She looked up at me, those same tears in her eyes now.

   "I want you Noel," she whispered barely audibly. She needn't have!

   "Yeah? Well guess what? I ain't rushing off this time sweetheart." I told her. As I spoke, I parted her legs and having already extricated what might be considered, my "tool of trade," positioned myself where I knew others must inevitably have been....though none could ever claim to have been there first. It wasn't an aspect needed further contemplation I figured.

    It's kind of an old cliché to say we were then "lost in the rhythm," yet this is how it was. Not a case of two biologically driven teenagers answering the call of lust. No "obligatory" union between long marrieds that rarely gets out of first gear and definitely no fumbling amateurs hoping for the best, yet discovering the least. We made love, pure and simple and at the point she clung to me as I substantially raised her fluid level, she smiled up at me with that sexy "cat that just finished off the cream" expression that girls are so good at.

   "That was soo loving," she whispered, fully in a post orgasmic haze now. I was floating too, on an ocean of my own making. This was no more than the aperitif.

    I think I had her naked in less than a minute and under the covers, where I joined her for early afternoon mass. Pulling her astride me, it was very much a case of "Father Forgive me for what I know I'm going to do!"

    That hot little mouth was more than willing to share its pent-up desire with my own. Kissing her with all the passion I could accrue, I had to admire her complete mastery of the occasion. Spreading her legs to the max to thus allow her access to guide me deep inside her, I was left with my own hands free with which to explore her youthful body and its many interesting crevices.

    No matter what your experience in these things, all girls are different and each one weaves an individual magic all her own. I have had the greatest fortune to have been dealt the opportunity to caress many young girls hot little bottoms, some of dubious age I will be the first to admit. Each and every one has been a treasured moment in time and Wednesday's exploratory of Amy's sexy little rear-end was definitely no exception. There is actually nothing greatly more arousing than smoothing your way over a young girl's rearward curves, even as you thrust up hard inside her. Her vulnerability at such times is extreme and its kinda fun also to wonder what her father would be thinking, if only he knew.

    With her firm breasts making the most delightful contact with my upper chest and her hair all over my face as she wriggled contentedly, I can't actually picture a more pleasant position to be in.

   "Three more thrusts should do it," I was thinking somewhat proudly. As it happened, two was all it took and even as she ground her hips against mine to better facilitate that final delivery mechanism, I pulled the hair from her eyes, so's I could watch her expression as I pumped everything I had left deep inside that most private of feminine receptacles.

   "You're trying to kill me Amy, right?" I spluttered between my on-going respiratory distress, "Death by pleasure - that's the intent here I'm guessing."

   "Can't you keep up with a twenty-four year old?" she giggled softly.

   "Twenty-four?" I replied. "I'm pretending you're almost fourteen sweetie, what's your problem!"

   "You're disgusting," she fired back, "But c'mon I want you to fuck me again." She wriggled her hips once more, as if I even needed further encouragement.

   "Ohh, this is getting serious Amy," I muttered. "You're using the "f" word now. Have you no shame?"

   "Not with you," she giggled as I manoeueverd her on top of me, but on her back this time.

    There is no more vulnerable a position than this for a girl. Her breasts wholly at your digital mercy, her pussy too...especially if she opts to spread her legs to the limit of her muscular capability. If you can't get her pregnant in that pose - give it away my friend.

    From my viewpoint, pretty much going through the motions, given my fully depleted stock but Amy was far from replete.

    Rubbing and pulling her breasts like the deviate I can be, I had her whimpering and moaning with consummate ease. Though I'm not sure it wasn't my pleasured moaning I was actually hearing. No matter, finding that I was now able to ease a finger inside her as well as my seven inches of penile insert was really hot stuff. Teasing her clitoral hood at the same time I was fucking her, really got the job done.

    "Don't stop, don't stop." She cried, fully over the edge and quite past any semblance of controlled emotion. Unsure just how long I could maintain this level of aggravated sexual conduct myself, I began to kiss her neck and this, to my everlasting gratitude, brought forth the desired conclusion.

    I held her breasts tightly, even as she was transported by one tsunami of an orgasm. I felt it radiating outwards...I think I even contributed a last few cubic millimeters of sticky stuff myself. Can't be sure though.

    The next eight hours we simply slept together blissfully. Amy cradled in my arms with her back to me as I nuzzled her neck and shoulders. Sex is great but closeness is everything.

    As I said to her when we woke just a few hours ago.

   "Where the Hell do we go from here?"

(c) Peter_Pan 2006

The latest Harper book has now been released: "Harper Valley: A Postscript"   http://www.lulu.com/content/402381

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conspiring together.

Again she turns, her own shadow leering up at her

Yet no-one's there, no monstrous shape creeps nearer

A sudden flash of intense brilliance lights her way but momentarily,

the thunderclap reverberates beneath the sidewalk,

she feels the insecurity of her mere fourteen years tenure

on so unprotective a terrain.

But one block to navigate!

She chides herself for harboring these gestating fears,

No ogre abroad on such a night,

no cars patrol the sodden road

and there not fifty yards ahead, her own front gate

exudes its cosy familiarity, negating her frantic heartbeat,

calming her funk

Running headlong, she cries out in happiness

seeing through the pouring rain now, her father undo the latch,

a figure of safety - the ultimate protective sentinel.

"Thanks dad," she utters, before the cruellest of deceptions makes

known its hideous reality.

Even as the coarse hand seals off her scream

the devil's accomplice pulls into the kerb, a door opens....

Not half an hour passes - two parents stand at a gate

......scanning an empty street

 

(c) Peter_Pan 2006

"Room Service and Other Tales of The Erotic"  http://www.lulu.com/content/166938

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color="#00ef0e">"The Complete Harper Valley"  http://www.lulu.com/content/106537

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    This is Sophie’s story.

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**

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    Like millions of young girls worldwide, the last thing Sophie felt like doing was getting out of bed – let alone going to school. Bed was safety, comfort, warmth – the surrogate womb if you will. It was a place to dream of growing-up, of future romance and of late, somewhere to caress her developing body with not a little TLC. At fifteen now, masturbation had become as frequent an event in her life as flossing those pretty teeth.

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    If there is anything measurably sexier than a cute young schoolgirl first thing in the morning winging her way to the bathroom just moments after she’s woken up, I can’t immediately nominate it. Tousled hair flopping across her shoulders as she rubs the sleep from her eyes. Youthful figure barely concealed by that semi-transparent nightdress that seems to cling to everything it shouldn’t. And remember, I have three daughters!

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    For at least two years, Homer, a huge Labrador of mixed parentage but who Sophie loved with a passion, had slept at the foot of her bed. With the onset of winter a deal was struck between them and Homer was granted leave to snuggle up on the bed with her. She never had need of a hot water bottle let’s say.

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    The morning in question, she had dragged herself out of bed and was standing near the full-length mirror wondering if Debbie, her older sister, was yet out of the shower. Her eyes strayed to the reflected surface and as she caught sight of her own image, she stared at the lithe schoolgirl whose young breasts were clearly visible through her nightwear. A hot flush coursed through her as she lowered her eyes momentarily, almost ashamed to have even noticed such an eventuality.

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    The girl in the mirror smiled back at her and with slow deliberation gradually raised the hem of her nightdress, revealing a pair of dainty floral panties. Sophie watched fascinated as her virtual doppelganger began to gently rub the front of those girlish briefs, her camel-toe now clearly visible.

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   To what extent the reflected apparition may have influenced Sophie’s fingered progress that morning is a moot point. Right that second Homer, perhaps drawn by the girl’s visual sexual activity, maybe latching-on to the female scent...padded across to his mistress and thrust one very moist, if not intrigued nose well up between her legs.

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   Fully shocked out of her reverie, Sophie tried to push him away but found him determined in the extreme to further his quest for knowledge.

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  “No Homer,” she cried out, as the dog’s tongue flicked her panties centrally. “Get back on the bed!” Reluctantly the dog clambered back up on the coverlet.

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   Several times in the past Homer had nosed her somewhat intimately she recalled, never though had he been as determined to intrude upon her maidenly charms as just moments before. She could not though discount the effect his tongue had wrought simply with that one exploratory lap.

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    Grabbing her school stuff she walked to the bathroom and finding it empty, went in, showered and dressed. Her hand wanted to perpetuate its earlier mirrored activities – beneath the hot water especially, but she was already running fifteen minutes late and could not afford the luxury of any further digital stopovers. Besides, sitting on the school bus with a wet pussy was not conducive to the educational process – leastways not as far as the school curriculum was concerned.

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    It was a normal school-day in the upshot. Two spot tests no-one was expecting, a detention for painting her nails in class and one of the all-time boring lectures on the moral decay of modern society. The day descended into farce late afternoon when, for the fourth time that month, the class jerk Daniel Cramer, asked if she would go out with him the coming Saturday. Another hour of that lecture would be preferable she decided.

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    Getting into her mom’s car parked across the way on Carmino Drive, all she was thinking about was whether or not they were still going to Oscar Blue’s for dinner as had been mooted the previous evening.

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     As luck would have it – they did and thus following a sumptuous repast and a sip or two of her father’s wine when he excused himself to go to the washroom, Sophie was feeling rather more back on track. She had quite forgotten the earlier Homer incident as she hastened to her room to complete some minor homework tasks.

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    Homer evidently had not and as the girl seated herself at her desk, he sidled across and began nuzzling her in areas that might be described as ‘indiscreet” let’s say.

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    “What’s wrong with you Homer?” she cried out. “You’re behaving like Daniel Cramer,” she giggled at the sudden image her words threw up, pushing the dog away meanwhile. He sat there looking up at his young mistress soulfully.

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    She was finding it hard to concentrate on her schoolwork suddenly, probably due to the multiple indecent thoughts crowding-in upon her. She had to admit to a certain curiosity. Whilst the tongued eccentricities of her beloved pet were hardly the virginal pursuits of a young lady, she could not deny the momentary arousal his unwarranted attentions had bequeathed her that morning.

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    Quite without thought for the consequences, she stood up, then making sure her bedroom door was closed, slipped out of her school-dress and clad in just her matching white bra and panties, seated herself on the edge of the bed. She felt deliciously sexy and tentatively holding her small bra outwards, admired the developing contents of both cups, the color rising in her cheeks as she gazed at the noticeably extended condition of either nipple.

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    Subconsciously her hands slipped down between her legs. It was so warm and inviting there.

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    Homer obviously thought he was invited!

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    Padding over to Sophie, he nosed his way between the girl’s thighs. This time she did not push him away but lay back on the coverlet, legs apart and with the delineation of her vaginal mound clearly visible through her panties. Daniel Cramer would assuredly not have needed a “Beginners Sex for Dummies” manual, Homer though was rather more cautious, ever mindful of his earlier reprimands.

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   At the precise moment Homer’s nose made direct contact with the front of her discernibly moist cotton briefs, Sophie let out a muffled cry. Every instinct told her this was way wrong by anyone’s standards – but there again, where was the ref?

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    As Homer’s tongue lapped at those barely covered virginal lips that first time, Sophie sighed, closed her eyes and spread herself even more indecently. She hadn’t yet realized it, but such movement opened up a gap between her upper thigh and that delectable little pussy itself. Homer liked gaps.

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    The next tongued exploratory flicked its way inland, guided one assumes, by the scent of female arousal.

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    Simply the sensation of a hot tongue parting her pubic hair as it made its way to the de-fortified campus yonder, had Sophie gasping and clutching at her lower extremities with something approaching desperation. Another lap and she was a convert.

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   “Oh God Homer” she murmured to no-one in particular. “You are making me soo hot!” She raised her arms above her head and allowed him then the total freedom to lick her wherever he so desired.

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    As the pleasure factor increased, the young girl became less inhibited and by the time Homer’s tenth lick had by accident, almost penetrated her labial fortress she was cruising on hi-octane.

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    Reaching down with what one might describe as foolish determination, she held her panties to one side. Homer needed no further encouragement and able to directly lap now the object of his affections as it were, his tongue separated her entire vaginal slit in its quest to extricate that which his taste-buds sought so eagerly.

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    Sophie could no longer lay still and she found she had no control over her hips either. The more Homer lapped at the promised land, the more she found herself thrusting upwards in pleasured response. Naturally her clitoral nub bore the brunt of her pet’s tongued incursions and it came to pass – sooner rather than later – that courtesy of a few million highly active nerve-endings, she found herself on the edge of an orgasmic cliff-top. It was fun falling off!

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    Homer cocked his ears as his mistress slid to the floor, making little noises he had never heard in his life. She definitely didn’t seem angry!

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    Breathless but still in control of her faculties, her mind was a maelstrom of emotions. Guilt, pleasure, arousal, embarrassment all figured prominently. As she sat there gazing at Homer not four feet away, she felt an overpowering urge to perpetuate the moment. Reaching behind her, she had the clasp of the bra unhooked in seconds and disengaging herself from its confines she sat upright fully topless, her proud breasts displayed in their full tempting glory. Kneeling now, she ran her hands across both nipples causing herself to shiver with expectancy.

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  “Come here Homer,” she whispered, arms at her side, back arched provocatively.

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   Obediently the dog approached his mistress.

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   Whether or not her nakedness was an influencing factor or simply that his canine senses latched on to the milky smell of her breasts is a moot point. Certainly they were the nearest point of contact so far as his moist nose was concerned. He nuzzled her cleavage before licking her right breast enthusiastically.

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    Sophie felt a hot flush snaking its way south. “Good boy!” she murmured holding the dog’s head to her chest as she arched her back even more prominently. Homer sensed her compliance and began lapping both breasts with little finesse but considerable zeal. Rapidly losing her grip on normality, the girl began to whimper as Homer’s tongue performed a therapeutic service she had never thought possible. She could feel his saliva running down her breasts and her inhibitions had receded to the point her body was starting to take control of the situation.

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    Hastily slipping her panties off, she extricated herself from Homer’s attentions just long enough to regain the coverlet where she lay sprawled on her back, her legs draped off the side of the bed and sufficiently wide that Homer’s procreative instincts were guided by the visuals as much as the overpowering scent.

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    Straddling the teenager, his crude humping actions brought Sophie momentarily back to reality. Glancing down past her breasts that Homer was still lapping at eagerly she could see his glistening sheath working its way between her legs as the dog, locked now into his pre-programmed state was becoming agitated in its attempts to penetrate his quarry. She sensed something pressing hard against her pussy. It felt huge.

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   Panicking suddenly, she tried to push Homer off but he was in no mood for rejection and pinned her to the coverlet, growling now and by far the stronger of the two. She thought of calling out, but how might she explain the situation to anyone? Lying naked on her bed about to be raped when she was supposed to be doing her homework? Yeah right!

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   Like most young girls she had thought of how it might be losing her virginity...but to a dog? At the same time some part of her wanted this, no matter how it hurt. Maybe if she didn’t fight him the discomfort would be lessened?

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   Deftly, she reached down and took a hold of Homer’s engorged sheath from which something was clearly disengaging itself.

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To be continued……  Â

(c) Peter_Pan 2007

"The Complete Harper Valley"

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     Finally the bell rang and there was a frantic rush for the door. Cassandra longed to join her friends but she could hardly overlook the directive from her teacher. So instead she sat at her desk and watched him sort through some notes. His eyebrows arched in concentration, furrowing his broad forehead; he blew a lock of unruly brown hair out of his eyes from time to time. He wasn't she decided, an unattractive man!

     Just as Cassandra was starting to believe he'd forgotten his note, he looked up and focused his attention on her.

    "Miss Peters, please come here." Surprised by the sternness in his voice, Cassandra walked up to his desk. His looked at her solemnly.

    "Honestly Miss Peters, I don't know what to do with you. You haven't attended seven classes this semester, and the absences aren't excused. I have to say that yes, you have turned in every assignment and to be honest, blown me away with your writing skills. However, with the end of the semester approaching I must warn you that you have only a C-minus in this class. Attendance I'm afraid, is unavoidably twenty percent of the grade."

     Cassandra gaped at him. "A C-minus? But Mr. Peters, my parents expect me to get into Princeton...I must have an A."

     Mr. Peters sighed, "I don't know what you want me to say Cassandra. Did you really expect to pass this class with flying colors based on your essays alone?"

     Cassandra bit her lip and stared at the floor. Yes, she had hoped that might be the case, she realised. The reality was just too much for her and she began to cry.

    "It wasn't my fault Mr Jamieson," she sobbed, "Mom had to spend a lot of time in hospital after the auto accident and I just needed to stay at home to help out. Dad doesn't get back till real late and I had to do the cooking....everything." Backing up to the nearest desk she slumped forlornly in the wooden chair. "You can't give me a C-Minus....please!!"

     He looked at her compassionately.

    "They're not my rules Cassandra," he responded slowly. "They are set down by the educational bodies and however much I wish I could change them for you, I can't! I know about the accident, I know you've had it really tough at home for quite a while, but you simply never brought in those signed absentee notes I asked you for. You really have left me no choice here."

     Silent tears running freely now down her pretty face she looked across at him. Even with full attendance and three more straight "A"s, the best she could hope for come end of semester was a B plus. It wasn't enough. Crying wasn't going to address the situation she realised. When 'you're desperate' she reasoned, you use whatever tools are available.

    "Won't you please reconsider Mr Jamieson," she asked softly "I'll do anything - absolutely anything you want."

     The balance of power was definitely shifting. This was a situation completely outside the thirty-five year old teacher's experience. Even as he responded, the uncertainty in his voice was evident.

    "Are you meaning what I think you're meaning Cassandra?" he all but stuttered.

     She just stared hard at the desktop. "I have to get an "A" in English Mr Jamieson, don't you understand that? I have to"

     He looked at her with a kaleidoscope of emotions running unchecked through his grey matter. Despite the fact he was a decent man with a strong moral fiber, the truth was he now realised, that Cassandra appealed to him over and above that which might be considered appropriate in any teacher-student relationship. Whilst he had never actually gotten to the stage of contemplating any sort of marital infidelity in the past, he had to admit that on more than one occasion, the sight of this particular student's curvy little bottom exiting the classroom, had imprinted itself on his subconcscious.

    "I don't think that is really what you want Miss Peters," he announced with little assurance, realising even as he spoke, that the statement made no reference to any reticence from his own standpoint. If any retreat had been planned - no one had mentioned it to the cavalry!

     The girl stood up and was staring at her teacher with a mixture of embarrassment and trepidation.

    "We could both be dismissed, you know?" he muttered. She nodded but took no backward step. The prominent blush in her cheeks he found most attractive.

    "Think maybe I had better take some precautions," he added nervously, intentionally avoiding all eye contact as he walked past her, to the far end of the room, whereupon he turned the key in the lock.

     Having regained the relative security of his own desk, he sat in the chair and motioned to Cassandra to step forward. Hands at her sides, she approached him.

     Observing the girl more with studious appraisal than any lustful intent, he took in her slim figure, pretty rather than overt breasts, beautiful facial features that at just eighteen now, had blossomed to technical adulthood. She looked considerably younger he mused. Patting his knee, he extended an arm towards her.

     Sensing his own extreme lack of confidence under the circumstances, she allowed herself to be drawn down on to his lap, where the playing field was anything but level, she couldn't help but notice. As her flush deepened and he in turn became aware of the reason for such, he decided that time was of the essence. Galvanised into action by a combination of her youthful femininity and the sensation of so sexy a little bottom atop his crotch, he allowed himself the luxury of slipping an arm around her waist.

     He felt her tense-up but figuring this was no time to be indecisive, slipped his hand upwards and enclosing the girl's entire right breast, squeezed the softness within. Letting out a shocked gasp she instinctively pulled his hand away.

    "I think the words you used were 'I'll do absolutely anything you want' were they not Cassandra?"

    "I'm sorry...nerves I guess Mr Jamieson," she muttered "I've never done anything like this before." She allowed him to restore contact with her breast and even as he began to grope her gently she felt the adrenaline kick-in. The feeling wasn't wholly unpleasant she had to admit.

    "Are you still a virgin then m'dear?" he asked tremulously, the sensation of squeezing this particular teenage student's hot little breasts rendering him positively light-headed

    "Uh huh!" she replied, her eyes watching as both his hands now felt her up with a growing confidence. Whatever that physiological reaction was manifesting itself between her legs, it was nothing she could classify as a hardship.

    "You are such a pretty girl Cassandra," he whispered, "I'm not hurting you doing this am I?"

    "No Mr Jamieson, its OK," she replied.

    "Oh and you needn't refer to me as 'Mr Jamieson' any more either," he smiled at her. "Hardly appropriate under the circumstances is it?" he added. "Just call me Craig."

     For a moment or two silence reigned as he continued fondling the girl's breasts increasingly aware of her unforced arousal, courtesy of those delightfully hardening nipples that her thin blouse was doing less than nothing to shield from his finger exploratory.

    "May I kiss you?" he asked her suddenly.

     Simply the bizarre attending circumstances - a young female student being sexually assaulted on the knee of a way older teacher and he asks her for a kiss? - made her involuntarily giggle. The humor of the moment was cut short however as their lips met.

     Kissing though not unfamiliar to the girl, had been limited to a few close friends of her own age - girls and boys if the truth be known. Never though had she experienced such familiarity with a man in his thirties and thus despite both the age-difference and the inappropriate scholastic connections, she had to admit this was a step-up in class.

     From Craig's viewpoint, this surely was the epitome of every male fantasy. Groping unrestrictedly a sexy teenage girl while kissing her hard on the lips, even as her bottom continued playing havoc with his procreative equipment-in-waiting....they don't write better screenplays!

     Beginning now to undo the top few buttons of her blouse, she gasped softly as he exposed her low-cut bra and dynamically arousing cleavage, A frilly little number, more concerned with fashion than support one assumes, it was the work of but a moment to slip his fingers inside her left cup. She gave a little gasp as they brushed across her engorged nipple and was fully unable to prevent a blush from coloring her cheeks.

     He wasn't looking at her cheeks though and using either hand now, began manipulating both nipples which achieved two things. Her bra was of course worked low enough that both breasts were almost fully exposed to his vitally interested gaze and her fine dark nipples became even more distended as his fingers worked their dexterous magic.

     As for Cassandra she could hardly believe she was sitting willingly on a man's lap, pretty much topless, allowing herself to be molested at will. Of greater concern, her body seemed in no hurry to be sending out May Day calls. If she didn't know better it was relishing this newly come-by learning curve.

    "May as well take these off," he murmured to no-one in particular, as he undid the rest of the buttons before peeling off her blouse and tossing it on his desk. Even as he unhooked her bra and began pulling the straps down her arms Cassandra just sat there, justifiably proud of her firm young breasts that freed now of their social constraints drew an appreciative if not limited audience.

     Inclining his head, he had barely even closed the gap between lip and nipple when she pushed him back firmly. "Noo, you can't do that.....Craig," she admonished.

    "Oh I think I can Cass," he smiled, "You're not even close to a C plus yet!"

     Reluctantly she withdrew her arm and sat there rather prettily he observed - an obedient fourth grader, waiting for permission to read aloud her essay.

     As he first kissed her breast before teasing the nipple with his tongue, she let out a small whimper, beginning to wriggle on his lap in embarrassment. Craig however was far from embarrassed and as the texture of her nipple combined with the vaguely milky smell of the breast itself, wholly absorbed his concentration, he began to draw down on her teat completely transported by the combination of recalled childhood comfort and the sexual arousal such an act unavoidably generated.

     For her part, Cassandra found herself in a whole new ball-park - one where adults played quite obviously. Unaware she was letting out small gasps of pleasure, she held his head against her breasts as he suckled her first one side then the other. The harder he drew down, the stronger the communications being exchanged with vaginal HQ. As the messages grew more urgent she could not avoid slipping a hand onto her lap and depressing an area of her skirt that in other circumstances might be described as 'interesting,'

     Fondling that which he wasn't already sucking, Craig was a man on a mission. No girl should be this sexy he decided. Wondering just how he could ever face up to her again in class he was suddenly distracted by the proximity of the girl's hand in her own lap. On little more than auto-pilot, he slipped his hand up beneath her skirt - she was after all sitting almost side-saddle.

     This most assuredly brought a reaction.

    "Nooo, not up there...please!" Her sharp intake of breath, shocked expression and rapid closure of her legs might in other circumstances have acted as some deterrent, but when a man has just about blown his wad sucking a girl's bare breasts while she wriggles sexily on his knee, you really can't expect a total withdrawal of all active troops. Besides there was unfortunately for Cassandra, an unfulfilled contract to see out, and of which she was quickly reminded.

    "If a B Minus is enough for you m'dear, we'll call it a day then," he smirked at her. "Your choice sweetheart!"

     Even as her legs parted, at least to the extent that her tight little skirt would permit, a delicate frown flitted across her face. "You really shouldn't be doing this Craig," she muttered. "I only meant for you to have a feel."

    "Well that's all I'm doing Cassandra," he grinned, insinuating his hand well up between her thighs where the heat was - if not volcanic....a tad on the warm side. The blush returned and with now the twin pleasures of seeing the young girl's breasts jiggling each time she wriggled her hips, as well as the hem of her skirt riding high up her legs, he was made even more aware of his pained erection that was struggling for survival in that land-locked cavity beneath her bottom. That she must have been aware of the caged serpent on hand could not be in doubt.

     In fact Cassandra was cognizant of Craig's little problem and despite herself, the imminent presence of so sexual a threat was only adding to her own escalating arousal.

     His hands reached the front of her panties...sexy little white cotton briefs that already were peeking out beneath her indecently rumpled skirt. Adding to the visual delights one couldn't help but notice, the contrast between the soft white skin of her thighs and the roll tops of those fishnet leggings she had selected to wear that morning. At the point he began rubbing her intimately, both were locked in to their respective countdowns even if they didn't yet know it.

    "God Cassandra, that feels so sexy," he whispered to the young girl as she struggled emotionally to deal with what was being perpetrated upon her hitherto unchallenged innocence. Trying to balance the reality of having to allow her teacher unrestricted sexual access with the knowledge that such was inherently wrong was inhibiting her thought processes. Added to this was the realization that her body was taking extreme pleasure from his caresses and tactile indulgencies.

     As he began to kiss her she felt all resistance crumbling and was even unaware she had spread her legs wider to accommodate his aggravated up-skirt therapy.

     He could feel the dampness through the thin material and rubbing her now the full depth of her vaginal ingress she was freely moaning and encouraging further interplay. Slipping a finger up beneath the leg of her panties he located the clitoral hood with little difficulty and set up a vibratory assault there which ultimately would be taking no prisoners he knew.

     Completely adrift from any world she had ever known, the girl was emitting small cries of pleasure now as the pressure built to intolerable levels. "Don't stop, don't stop," she pleaded even as he fingered her to the edge of reason.

     Using two fingers, he could feel how engorged she was and how taut her young pussy had become under his relentless digital massage. The moisture on site was simply the icing on the cake - proof indeed that you really can't beat the hands-on approach.

     Limited in dialog to "Ohhhh" Cassandra was suddenly lost in the perfect storm. As the shock waves eddied out in concentric circles, causing her hips and bottom to wriggle, her nipples to tingle and her pussy to bear the brunt of the ensuing seismic rift, she didn't even hear herself cry out with pleasured release.

    Craig did....he was even privy to the onset of some pre-cum now overflowing rather pointlessly beneath the young girl's sexy little posterior.

     Unable to bear further stimulation temporarily, she pulled his hand out of her panties.

    "That was soo incredible," she volunteered. She made as if to disengage herself from his lap.

    "And where do you think you're off to young lady?" he asked her.

    "Just going to put my bra and top back on," she replied.

    "I think not Cass," he said, taking a hold of her arm. "What you can do though is take that hot little skirt off now...always had a hankering to see a girl your age running around my classroom in just her panties."

    "That's disgusting Mr Jamieson," she gasped.

    "Oh, Its back to 'Mr Jamieson' now is it?' he chided her. "Well no matter I suppose....makes it sound even sexier. Naughty student misbehaving and all."

    "I'm not gonna parade around here in just my panties?" she announced defiantly. "That's totally off!"

     He smiled at her, "Well, speaking of things being "off" sweetheart, although you definitely made B Plus with that last little performance, you are still adrift from any Princeton ranking I'm afraid, so I guess you're just gonna have to do what your teacher tells you. Its that or you take the B Plus.

     Aware she was trapped and without any aces left to play, she sighed and then simply unhooking the small clasp, she ran the zipper down and let the skirt fall to the floor. The now fully awesome aspect of probably the grade's prettiest student, stranded mid classroom solely in her leggings and a pair of white panties close to three sizes too small for her, almost robbed Craig Jamieson of his remaining sanity.

     Trying to cover up both nipples and her rather pronounced camel toe was a task and a half. It merely drew attention however to her rampant femininity. That isn't to say Craig wasn't taking the greatest pleasure in eying off the girls unwanted predicament. Had he stood up himself though, Cassandra might have been equally fascinated by proceedings, especially those some six inches or so beneath his belt-buckle.

     Indicating that she should 'approach the bench' as it were, he co-erced her verbally to return to the seat of power, taking her hand as she neared him and at the last moment having her turn around so he could admire the sculptor's work from the rear. There was much to admire. She flinched as he smoothed both hands down her cheeks taking the greatest delight in observing the line of that beautiful cleft as it sank from view beneath the waistband of her panties.- the ultimate event-horizon one might deduce.

    "Don't take them down please," she yelped as he tugged at the soft material suddenly, revealing more than half her naked bottom to his gaze. Patting her right cheek suggestively, he allowed her to pull them back up to hip level.

    "Tell you what Cassandra," he said, still toying with her rear-end somewhat indecently, "I'll give you a choice. Either you take your panties off now in front of me or I let you put that skirt back on first and then I take them off for you?"

    "If I let you do that Mr Jamieson, can I please go home then?" she replied none too confidently.

    "We'll have to see about that sweetheart," he answered. "I guess you HAVE been a good and compliant little girl this afternoon."

     Retrieving her skirt, she had no sooner zipped it up when he put his arms around her waist and pulled her too him. Fully off balance, she fell back on his lap just as his hands found their way up beneath her hem once again and began re-familiarising themselves with the architectural delights between her legs.

     Her eyes closed, she allowed him to molest her unhindered.

    "Stand up for me Cass," he instructed. No sooner had she done so, than he took a hold of the waistband and with his face but inches now from her curvy little rear, peeled her undies past her leggings and down to her ankles. Obligingly she stepped out of them.

    "Does that feel sexy sweetheart?" he asked, "standing there in just a short skirt with no panties on?" The truth was - it did, but she was not about to share such intimate home-truths.

     A full scale discussion on the subject was never even to reach gestation stage however, since his grip around her waist tightened at that moment and with the least exertion, he pulled her back on to his knee. She gave a small cry of surprise that was replaced by one of genuine shock. Straddling his knee as she now was, her parted legs revealed a hitherto unchartered actuality. Not only unzipped, her teacher's erection announced its clear intent, standing to attention there between her thighs, in honored tribute to the Star Spangled Banner quite obviously.

    "No way," she cried out, You're not going to fuck me now are you?" She tried unsuccessfully to exit the playing field.

    "Well Cass, I wouldn't have put it quite that indelicately," his arm around her waist tightened. "But you have latched on to the general direction of things here. Think of it as your "final exam" sweetheart. I'll be gentle."

    "Nooo...please.."she sobbed. "I'm a virgin...I could get pregnant."

     Suddenly lost in some excruciatingly hot images that her words generated, he was silent for a few seconds.

    "Cassandra," he responded eventually, "This isn't a multiple choice question I'm afraid. You want an "A" - you let me fuck you here and now. What's it to be? You needn't worry about pregnancy either, there are pills you know!"

     Naively she hadn't even considered it might have come to this. Her tears were real and she regretted now ever embarking on such a drastic course of action. As she looked at her teacher's erection however, its very proximity was arousing to her she had to admit. Perhaps the concept was worse than the reality? Idly, she took a hold of it.

    "I'll take that as a 'yes' then," he whispered, following up with a kiss just below her right ear. She really smelt so young and inviting.

     Not too many girls lose their virginity straddling their English teacher's lap butt naked, save for a skirt of such brief proportions. In actuality, the window of opportunity as it were at that angle, favors the uninitiated as the girl is fully able to control the degree of penetration simply by spreading her legs marginally or using her feet pretty much while standing, to absorb the pressure on her hymen at any given moment. This isn't to say it didn't hurt her. Although he was true to his promise, very gentle and respectful of her virginal state, making headway was slow and Cassandra was wincing in pain up to the moment she herself relaxed sufficiently to allow him to push up finally into the promised land.

     The sensations afforded her nervous system as she felt him suddenly penetrate her vagina deeply, quite outstripped his own pleasures. She eased herself lower, fascinated to see his quite large erection sinking into her most intimate of orifices with such apparent ease. She could see a few spots of blood but the pain of the past few minutes was obliterated by what he was now doing to her.

     Something less than cool calm and collected himself, after all the illicit pleasures to be had, penetrating a sexy young virgin on your lap, her bottom jiggling inches from your face while you grope her breasts stupid, - never mind her being one of your students - does have its appeal!

     Establishing eventually a rhythmic upthrust, he could hear Cassandra's breathing following the same line as his own - tortured to the point of pleasurable agony. Holding her hips tightly he was entering that wonderfully tight little chasm - one that she evidently kept hairless and smooth - with increased purpose.

    "You are so sexy sweetheart," he offered up in full praise of younger women generally. "I could....."

     He never got to finish the sentence as right at that moment, someone called out "Fire in the hold."

     Her eyes closed in orgasmic bliss, she felt something hot and sticky spraying deep inside her. For a full ten seconds she was unable to find the "off" switch as her vaginal muscles refused to unclamp their prey whilst her hips continued their automated downward thrusting.

     The post coital experience for both protagonists was one of pleasured respiratory re-affirmation. Their systems were re-set!

     Slumped in his chair up alongside the blackboard, Craig Jamieson felt all of his thirty-five years. The last thing he was expecting was the young girl to turn around, hands provocatively sliding across her glistening pussy - the ultimate Cheshire Cat....albeit on heat!

    "I'd really like to make sure I get a straight "A" Sir!"

(c) Peter_Pan 2006

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    "Hey!" was all Shelley could enunciate, before she found herself spreadeagled face-down besides her mother. The men were doing something with their wrists - tying them together by the feel of it.

    "I think we're in trouble darling," Tracey grinned at her daughter, her mind already in hyperdrive as to the possibilities here. She never got to utter anything further as the duct-tape then sealed her airways.

    "I'd say that puts us in the box seat Ian," Greg muttered to his friend, turning his wife over on to her back. Taking in her fully vulnerable aspect, he permitted himself a light fondle of her breasts. Her helpless wriggling merely added grist to the mill. He glanced across at his sexy little daughter. "Don't be shy Ian," he inclined his head towards the struggling teenager, "Do whatever you want my friend."

     Shelley's expression was priceless as her captor's hand lowered itself to her breasts and began taking liberties with the girlish mounds. The tape of course was precluding the possibility of her verbally challenging her predicament. For a while both men amused themselves with fondling those hot curves as their owners gasped and writhed in embarrassed restraint. At Greg's suggestion they swapped partners and Greg took the greatest delight in the fact that his daughter's nipples were hardening rapidly beneath her school blouse. Ian of course had long made a similar discovery inside the bra of the young woman prostrate in front of him. It wasn't so much erections they were experiencing as testosteronic anarchy.

    "I have to fuck her," Ian announced to no-one in particular, pushing Tracey's dress up as he spoke and exposing her hot little briefs.

    "I'm with you son," said Greg going one step further and literally ripping his daughter's panties down, exposing her naughtiest of hair-lines to the localised viewing public. Not five seconds later and he had more than six inches of adventurous penile tissue working its illicit but fun way up Shelley's slippery little dual carriageway.

    Ian saw little reason not to follow suit, and Tracey's subsequent muffled cries of pleasure would suggest he was definitely exceeding the speed limit on the southern freeway.

    "God, that is soo hot!" Ian muttered mid-thrust, as he observed Greg fucking his tied-up daughter to the edge of reason. Again, images of young Lucy flooded his subconscious. They weren't images of her sitting at her desk doing her homework either, let it be stated.

    From Greg's perspective - seeing his wife hog-tied, gagged and her panties down around one ankle with his best-friend's cock giving her a cervical massage, was not detrimental to his cause either.

    "Fuck her Ian, make her come," was about the best advice he could give.

     He should talk!

     Even as Shelley quivered in orgasmic release, Tracey was taken to the periphery of the biggest cum she had ever dreamed of. Both, at that instant, were procreative females on heat - desperate to fulfil their biological destiny.

    "Jesus Christ," Greg whimpered....that was unreal! Ian couldn't respond, being close to needing a defibrillator himself.

    So much more was to pass that evening but the reader's interest is best served perhaps by a look at the bigger picture. Let us just say that such moving violations as had already been perpetrated upon the hapless duo were magnified yet further, as a result of their being stripped and tied back to back allowing both to be raped concurrently. Free of the duct tape for now, the girls' cries of sensual pleasure were heightened by the fact both could feel each other's penetration by virtue of their bottoms being in close proximity, and thereby transmitting the force of each thrust.

    At the point the men could indulge themselves no further, Tracey and her daughter had each to masturbate the other before being encouraged to take a somewhat open shower together, where rules were passed-up in favor of spontaneous innovation. Amazing what two majorly aroused females can conjure up when left to their own devices.

    It was to be two weeks before Ian, his wife Lena and daughter Lucy were ushered in to the Richardson's hallway. Given that she and Tracey were barely two years apart and with both sharing an interest in psychology, it is small wonder that they hit it off from the start - chatting away like old friends at the kitchen workbench.

    Even as he cast his first glance at Lucy, Greg could well understand Ian's incestuous leanings towards his daughter. Possessed of a young body that seemed to bridge effortlessly the gap between childhood and adolescence, her breasts, whilst still mere "bumps," as her father had correctly described them, exerted a physical appeal that he just knew was going to have to be appeased at some stage.

    A cute little honey-blonde, even in that puffy child's dress, something lurked there unseen, that was anything but child. "Was she in fact aware of this?" he wondered. As for Lena, Greg decided on sight that if the opportunity ever arose to get into her panties - he wouldn't be taking his time about it!

    Lucy and Shelley seemed to "click" also and within seconds the two girls were headed up to Shell's bedroom for an extended session on the computer.

    "Guess we may as well have a drink," said Greg to his business partner, "We don't seem to be needed here."

     Dinner was a strained affair - if you knew what you were looking for. Furtive glances between Greg and Tracey....Shelley giggling every time Ian spoke to her more or less. A couple of times Lena seemed perplexed at the young girl's familiarity with her husband but passed it off as normal teenage flirtatiousness. Only sweet little Lucy seemed completely oblivious to it all, fully unaware of the frequency of Greg's glances in her direction - not to mention her own father's!

     Sitting between his own daughter and Shelley, a sudden burst of giggling drew everyone's attention. Probably as well none of them knew the cause - Ian's concealed hand now flush in the center of the teenage girl's lap and pressing down hard on her pussy.

    "That's naughty," she whispered to him seconds later. How he wanted to be naughtier!

     Aware that Ian must have taken some indecent liberty with their little girl Greg and Tracey simply smiled at one another. Quite forgetting present company momentarily, Greg allowed himself a quick fondle of his wife's right breast.

     Noticed only by Lena, who almost dropped her rib-roast in silent shock - her expression was one of utter disbelief.

    "What's wrong hun?" Ian asked, upon seeing his wife not a little flushed and having no idea what he'd missed.

    "Oh...n-n-nothing Ian," she managed to get out. "Piece of meat went down the wrong way that's all!"

     The remainder of the evening was played out uneventfully. Shelley's level of flirting did seem kinda prominent to Lena but there again, Greg and Tracey appeared to be paying her daughter very close attention too. There was something there she just couldn't put her finger on.

***

    "Did you see what he did to his wife at the dinner table?" Lena asked her husband after they had packed Lucy off to bed? Genuinely surprised by the question, Ian shook his head.... "Did to her??"

    "He groped her Ian?" Ian's mind swiftly recalled the wondrous nature of such physical activities.... "Yeah?" he answered. "I didn't see and anyway - they're married...what's the problem?"

   "C'mon Ian...groping your wife in front of young children?....their own daughter? Our nine-year old Lucy?"

     "You sure you saw right hun?" Ian grinned, besides how do you know the kids saw anything?"

     "Well, I don't," she replied..."It just shocked me I guess!"

     "So how did you feel about seeing him do that honeybunch?" Ian teased her.

     "Well, it was disgusting Ian...and at the dinner table too." she added.

     "You didn't find it the least bit sexy darling?" he said slipping his hand up beneath her nightdress.

     "Hardly," she said.

      It was the best sex they'd had in years!

     Before Lucy went to sleep that night she thought about Shelley...how excited she had felt in places she knew it wasn't polite to talk about, when the girl had suddenly kissed her on the lips in passing while they were playing Tomb Raider. She liked Mr Richardson too - he had gone out of his way to talk to her and show interest in her school and stuff. It was a funny feeling she had and she wasn't at all sure what it all meant. And as for what Mr Richardson had done to his wife right in front of her - Gosh, it made her blush just thinking about it!

***

    "It was like you guessed she'd say," Ian replied, putting his drink down slowly on the bar. "She thought it was disgusting - and you know what? - I didn't even see you do anything!"

    "Thing is though Greg," he continued, almost smirking, Lena was so hot that night - although she won't admit it."

    "What'd I tell you buddy?" Greg slapped his friend on the shoulders, "Don't be so sure about her...sounds like she just needs a little more er, 'exposure' I think is the word here," They both cracked up.

    "What did you think of Lucy?" Ian asked a few moments later.

    "I don't think you'd really want to know Ian" he replied. "Let's just say I can see why she jerks your chain....wouldn't mind doing a little jerking of my own if you really want to know."

    "She's hot isn't she?" Ian murmured.

    "Well I wouldn't knock back twenty minutes in the shower with her if that's what you mean," Greg sculled the contents of his glass. Ian sighed with the resignation of one who's ultimate fantasy just slipped well beneath life's event horizon.

    "Remember, when you three come over next week Ian," Greg was continuing, "you gotta have a hot feel of Shelley's tits and make sure your wife sees you do it!"

***

     The evening ran smoothly enough. Lena helped serve up dinner, spending the first hour or so chatting animatedly with Tracey in the kitchen. Lucy went upstairs with Shelley and spent the greater part of that time wondering how long it was going to be until her breasts filled out like Shell's and she could wear a sexy little bra too? The men cornered the bar alcove and muttered general obscenities as to what each would like to do to the other's daughter if given free rein. Ian of course was well ahead on points in that discussion.

    "And I'll be honest Ian," Greg crooned into his third or fourth bourbon, "I wouldn't mind getting your wife's sexy little tits out either and having a suck or two.....just between you and me."

    "What about her panties?" Ian put in, "Anything in there interests you?"

    "You wanna believe it my friend, "Greg fired back. "Getting me hard as Hell just thinking about pulling those little suckers all the way down and fucking that pussy of hers."

    Ian was almost sobered up by that one - the thought suddenly of seeing his wife being sexually molested, partially stripped, if not openly raped, was as exciting as the concept of his nine year old daughter spread and naked upstairs on his friend's bed. As for the wicked images doing the rounds of his wife nude and being fucked hard right in front of innocent little Lucy - it just didn't get any hotter!

    "Dinner's up guys," Tracey called out from the dining room.

    Shelley openly flirted with Ian, getting him to pass her the condiments, giggling whenever his hand brushed against her arm even as far as leaning forward on the table sufficiently to allow him an eyeful of her hot little breasts, barely hidden as they were down that deeply scalloped top she had squeezed into. Naturally Lena was afforded much the same view and more than aware of the remarkably pretty girl's intent towards her husband, resolved to nip this in the bud, after all he appeared to be responding to her come-on's like a lovesick teenager. Still she had to admit the girl was a sexy little thing and there was no denying the fact that glancing at her breasts was actually arousing her own body in ways she dared not think about. Even Lucy's eyes - as big as saucers at this juncture, were straying to Shelley's top on a fairly regular basis...and then it happened.

     One moment Ian was saying something to the girl, the next second he clearly put a hand down her top and fondled her breast, causing her to giggle hard and to pull his hand out.

    "Ian," she cried out mortified "Are you crazy?" Then looking towards Shelley's parents muttered "I'm so sorry, I can't believe he did that?' Even Lucy was staring at her father, shocked senseless by what she had just seen. Lena was already getting to her feet.

    "Where are you going Lena?" Tracey asked, "There's no harm done - Ian didn't mean anything by it...Shelley's used to it, believe me?"

    "You mean he's done this before?" she cried, "Oh my God, I don't believe this.....and you two don't mind?"

    "Well Lena, its really up to Shelley to mind isn't it?" Greg suggested, "And it doesn't look to me like she does particularly.'

     Shell and Ian were still seated at the table watching the conversation flow much like two fans of Roger Federer at the New York Open in Yonkers following a point during a critical tie-breaker.

     Lena looked at Tracey then back at Lucy and finally at her husband who was sitting their impassively.

    "Is everyone here crazy?" she asked.

    "Not crazy Lena - just friendly," he grinned, leaning across and kissing Tracey while availing himself of her right breast that he caressed softly.

     Lena's hand flew to her mouth. "Come on Ian, we'll talk about this later. I think we should take Lucy home."

     The little girl looked disappointed. "Do we have to mom, I like it here with Shelley." She walked around beside the girl's chair as she spoke. Shell gave her a cuddle.

    "Lighten up hun," Ian said suddenly, aware that they were probably at the point of no return and that he had nothing to lose but so much to gain. "You might even enjoy it." Patting his knee, he turned to Shelley, "Come and sit on my lap sweetheart,"

     The color drained from Lena's features as she watched the young girl get up and sit on her husband's knee. Something in the act was so arousing she could neither define it or even bring herself to admit it. At the point the girl lowered her lips to those of her husband and began kissing him passionately, she had to hold on to the nearest chair for support.

    "Ian...." her voice tapered off in unmitigated shock. Worse was to come. Without her friend for support, Lucy had sidled over to Greg's chair and was now holding his hand watching with acute interest as her father kissed the young girl. She definitely wanted to experience this and raised her pretty face to Greg's. At the point he kissed her lightly, Lena's expression was one of disbelieving horror.

    "Lucy," she cried out, "Stop that right now, c'mon we have to go home."

    Given the sensations arcing through the pre-teen's body right then as Greg's lips continued to apply a world of new experiences to her own, she didn't even hear her mom's pleas. Instead, she allowed herself to be lifted up on to Greg's lap where she put her arms around his neck and allowed him full license to continue his passionate exchange.

    Opposite them, Ian was slipping his hand up beneath the teenager's skirt now and quite clearly...to judge by the girl's wriggling, applying pressure to some area of her anatomy that was causing both of them pleasure.

     Lena barely noticed Tracey crouching now beside her. Tears were beginning to trickle down her face.

    "This has been going on for a while hasn't it?" she said, barely above a whisper.

     Tracey put her arm around her shoulder.

     "Look Lena, three months ago - I would have been as shocked as you. I don't really remember how it all started. I know I was teasing Ian about how he was always looking at our daughter funny and I actually asked him if he ever thought about, well, you know...touching her. Then a few nights later it just happened. No one planned anything."

    "What?" Lena gasped, "Are you telling me your husband...and Shelley - like they do stuff together? That's incest!"

    "Well whatever it is - it happens Lena. A few weeks later your husband came over for dinner and things just got out of hand I guess."

    "Are you saying that my husband has actually f-fucked your daughter? Oh My God.....she's only fourteen isn't she?"

     "He's fucked me too Lena, if you really want to know," Tracey giggled. "But you can't blame him - I did kinda lead him on!"

     Lena however wasn't paying close attention at that moment, riveted as she was on what was happening in the far chair. Ian, having pushed the teenage girl's skirt up to her hips, had fully exposed a pair of hot little white cotton panties which he was in the process of rubbing the length of her quite clearly defined young pussy.

     Despite her shock and if the truth be known - embarrassment, Lena felt a surge of arousal in and around her genital area and had to discipline herself against slipping a hand into her own panties, as she watched open-mouthed, her husband's continued sexual assault of the vulnerable girl on his lap.

     So taken up was she with the nearside drama, she failed to notice her own young daughter's reaction to the unfolding scenario. Still being kissed by Greg, Lucy could barely comprehend what was happening. All she knew is that the man kissing her was making her feel hotter by the minute and watching the other girl get her pussy rubbed like that was making her imagine what it would be like to have her father do the same thing to her one night. She could feel her own panties getting wet at the thought and she was momentarily ashamed. All sorts of funny feelings in fact, were running through her body - especially between her legs.

     Ian was having no trouble with his gear-changes. That skimpy little top, now resident on the carpet beside her skirt, was joined by the skimpiest little bra Lena had ever seen - certainly nothing her mother would ever have approved of she recalled momentarily. She watched almost clinically now, as her husband began squeezing and rubbing the girls bare breasts with indecent haste, still kissing her passionately. Perched on Ian in just her cotton panties now Lena was half hoping she would get to see him actually having intercourse with the girl right there on his lap. She wasn't even thinking of Lucy. Her right hand, fully with a mind of its own apparently, was slowly inching its way beneath her dress with a very specific destination in mind.

     Greg on the other hand, was definitely thinking of Lucy. Wanting more than anything to fondle those clearly defined little 'speed humps" beneath her dress, he had the most splendid of occasional views down her top. Whilst nothing in essence was visible - just the onset of her embryonic cleavage was driving him to utter distraction. Although her mother appeared to have slumped to the floor in abject denial of what was happening in the room - he wasn't so sure what the outcome might be if he took that next step and actually sexually assaulted the little girl. Lucy he figured though, was more than ready!

     Seeing Shelley almost stripped now and having her sexy little breasts mauled by her father just a few paces away, was doing things to Lucy. Things that she had never imagined could be "done" to her. Even without the benefit of hardly any sexual education her body, she could sense, was responding to the visuals and lowering her sense of right from wrong. She wanted to feel what Shelley must be feeling. Taking a hold of Greg's hand - she lowered it to her lap - dead center!

     Talk about winning the lottery! Greg began to tentatively depress the area, and was rewarded by a few wriggles and sighs from the girl. She even broke of from kissing him to look up and smile with what in an older girl might be interpreted as lascivious intent.

     A sudden gasp from across the room indicated Lena's gaze had locked on to this new development.

    "No Lucy," she called out pulling her hands free from her panties and starting to get up. Right then, she felt Tracey put her arm around her waist. "She'll be fine Lena, just let go," she whispered before slipping her own hand up between the woman's legs, and caressing lightly the front of Lena's wet panties.

    "Oh my God Tracey - what are you doing," she almost whimpered. "I c-cant, let you....." she trailed off as Tracey began fingering her pussy through the wetness. "I c-c-cant......."

     She found herself back on the floor and unable to resist. Having this woman caress her so intimately was the hottest thing she had ever known. She closed her eyes and pulled the other woman closer.

     With all the refs off the field, the game was under way for real!

     Poor little Lucy. Despite the waves of pleasure flowing through her as her dad's friend began rubbing her puffy little swellings and pulling her suddenly hard nipples, just below the neckline of her dress, the sight of her mother with another lady's hand rubbing her panties softly as she sat on the floor over there - just about fried all imminent awareness. She didn't know what to think or how to react to this bizarre situation.

     Looking over to her friend Shelley for help wasn't of any great use either - not when she could see her father was now pulling her panties down and that Shell would be completely naked any second.

     Ian couldn't take much more himself. "Can I fuck you Shelley?" he whispered. She didn't answer - simply swivelling her bottom on his lap and having turned to face him, spread her legs either side of his hips. Holding her firmly around the waist he glanced downwards - he didn't even need ask her to unzip him.

     As he sank his cock up to the hilt in the girl's intriguing wetness, Lena stared, as if watching a re-run of one of the better 'Dynasty' episodes. Everything was externalising itself - the woman's fingers in her pussy that had her shivering in pleasure, watching her husband fucking that underage girl senseless on his lap, seeing this middle-aged man playing with her own nine-year old daughter's tits as he kissed her, while slipping a hand up beneath her bottom she noted.

     This had to be a segment of "America's Funniest Home Videos."

     What wasn't so funny was hearing Lucy suddenly break off from her passionate embrace with this man and ask clear as day.

     "Will you fuck me too please?"

(c) Peter_Pan 2006

Visit "The World of Peter_Pan" website at:

http://www.geocities.com/worldofpeter_pan/index.html

Kylie was breathing hard – I knew that look.

Jenna knows none of this and that is how it must stay. The Harper Valley  afternoons are going to have to be wound down and Kylie weaned off her diet of excessive and exotic pleasures. As for me? I really do need to join that sewing circle.

(c) Peter_Pan and Lulu Publishing Inc NC

Please visit  http://www.geocities.com/phrenetic_ice/wopp.html

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"Room Service & Other Tales of the Erotic"   http://www.lulu.com/content/166938

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    Heading into my late twenties, my wife of some four years was only twenty-two and with still the body, aura and in many ways naivety, of a young girl. We had one daughter who at the time was almost four. She has no part in this recollection, I hasten to add

    The previous year, Melissa had miscarried late and had taken it badly. Blaming as some girls do, especially in the absence of any other cause - herself, the marriage had since been negotiating some rocky highways and byways. Back then we lived in the beautiful Blue Mountains in Sydney's west - some four thousand feet above sea-level in an enormous though some might say risky old home built on a steep cliff face that looked across at the sprawling Jamieson Valley - a Grand Canyonesque lookout. Supported on huge thirty foot concrete staunchions sunk into the ground below the house, anything above 5.0 on the Richter Scale would have closed down any and all options for a continuance of life.

    We loved the place though and holed up there mid-winter with snow outside, a roaring fire in the grate and a glass or three of whatever champagne was on special that week. We were doing alright, well up until the miscarriage anyway. I was working as a teacher in the city then and with the slow-haul two hour train-trip home a couple of nights a week I wasn't back until near-midnight having to pull down a late shift Tuesdays and Thursdays.

    The previous few years we had changed houses a couple of times and were on a first name basis with every Real Estate agent in the upper mountains. A couple of them we used to see on a regular social basis, including Rob Carter who had actually sold us the cliff-top edifice. Rob didn't especially appeal to me - all glitz with little depth but hey, his wife Adrienne more than made up for it. Unfortunately, she wasn't to be part of this little tale either.

    The previous couple of weeks Melissa had been particularly morose and short on humor. Whenever I would try to negotiate some emotional inroads, asking if she would like to talk about things, all she would say is "You know what the problem is honey, just have to let me handle it." Then she would give me a quick kiss and smile that pretty smile she had totally perfected. It was all I could do to go to work some mornings!

    The day in question, I had decided to drive to the city being my late-shift and consequently faced a two-way journey free of peak-hour traffic. The afternoon offered-up nothing remarkable and with a slower than average evening, I figured I would close-up the training room (I worked for a major city newspaper, teaching cadet journalists) and head off to my mountain retreat.

    Back almost an hour and a half early, not only was I surprised to see Rob's new Landcruiser out the front of our place, I could have sworn that was his business-partner Craig Letchworth's Beamer parked right behind him. "Hmmm, the plot thickens?" I was deliberating, as I approached the front door. "Surely she's not planning on us selling the house?" I began to wonder abstractedly. On opening it, I was further astounded to find no-one in either the lounge or dining room. The least incisive of minds could filter out the only remaining possibility - I think I already knew subconsciously, the instant I had seen Rob's car.

    An unlikely calm descended upon me and I was in no rush even to make evident the shameful betrayal - perhaps some part of me "understood?" As it was, I quietly opened my daughter's bedroom door - the master bedroom was closed I noted and sounds from within were now audible. Female ecstasy is hard to suppress!.

    Little Danielle was sleeping like an angel, I kissed her and stayed for a few moments looking down at the bed. The vulnerability of children, little girls especially, is sometimes quite overwhelming.

    Leaving her sound asleep, I walked up the hall to our room. "Funny" I was thinking, in all the years we had been together I couldn't recall ever closing our bedroom door. Not figuring to make this easy on anyone, I simply opened it and walked in.

    Hard to remain calm and objective when one is confronted by what amounts to the supranormal. Every person there was affected differently. I think I was by far the calmest - being in shock.

    Rob, frozen in time mid thrust, simply paled into a sickly grey, his eyes instinctively dropping to my hands, expecting one supposes to see there - some sort of automatic weapon.

    Craig, performing an exemplary job of holding Melissa's right leg so far clear of the bed she looked like Nadia Comaneci in training, just stared blankly. His left hand I could see was still atop my young wife's pussy, just centimetres from Rob's penetrative drill-bit. Stationary now, I assume he had been fingering her in whatever ingress was available, given the indignities being perpetrated upon her.

    A third man, whose first name I recalled was Gary - another wannabe real estate magnate, was kneeling with his back to the door, kissing Melissa with a decided passion, as he permitted his hands the luxury of traversing her quite small but undeniably sexy breasts. Her nipples I noted were willing participants, to judge by their wholly erect status. Being the last to become aware of my presence inside the doorway, Gary was still fondling her breasts with breathless enthusiasm, even as the remainder of the tableau ground to a sudden halt.

    And then there was Melissa herself.. To say she blushed would be to critically understate the situation. Withdrawing her right hand instantly from what I can now only suppose was Gary's underpants, she just covered her face with her hands - no one spoke!

   "I can explain...." Rob began. I cut him off.

   "No Rob, you can't 'explain,' I said, "There's no words to adequately cover this situation. Tell me, "I added, staring at him, "How would you feel if you got home and found Adrienne being fucked senseless by the fridge mechanic?" He didn't answer, choosing instead to stare at the carpet.. What now in hindsight is almost laughable, he hadn't even withdrawn from the depths of Melissa's pussy.

    "Whatever went out the window that night in terms of marital trust, I have to freely admit to you all, that seeing Melissa naked with those three men on our bed and in so submissive a position, was arousing me to the point of total forgiveness. I turned to leave the room.

    "Where are you going?" Craig muttered nervously, suspecting perhaps that I kept a loaded rifle in the broom cupboard.

    "I'm going to pour myself a drink actually," I told him, "Can I get you guys anything?" Craig and Gary looked at each other like I was just this side of committable. They made like they were about to withdraw from the action.

    "Hey guys," I said, "No point you stopping now - may as well keep going - I'm sure Melissa can hold up her end? What about you Gary? Have you fucked her yet?" " Perhaps in partial shock - but he shook his head.

    "Well there you go," I replied, "Nothing ventured, nothing gained. After Rob finishes there," I inclined my head towards her still gaping legs, " Take up some of the slack Gary and plough a few wild oats why don't you?'

     Melissa then began sobbing.

    "It wasn't their fault," she whimpered, "They didn't force me into it - I said they could come over."

    "Well hey, that's great 'Lissa," I answered, "We're all friends here, no harm done. Tell you what....let me fuck you now and then we can just see what the rest of the night brings by way of excitement." This at least had the effect of causing Rob to withdraw his semi-deflated prick which even in that condition was, I could see, a tool to be reckoned with.

    I couldn't tell you why but right then, the thought of fucking my wife senseless - basically humiliating her in front of that gathered assembly was the turn-on of all turn-ons. At that moment, she leaned across to pick up her bra and panties that someone had thoughtfully left at the side of the bed.

    "No...leave them off Melissa," I said. Something in my tone made her look up at me. "I'm serious sweetheart," I continued, "I'm going to fuck you right here, right now - so you may as well lay back and enjoy it." Giving her no time to ponder this, I walked directly to the foot of the bed, lifted her legs and spread her fully indecently right there at the edge of the quilt.. Somehow that sexy little slit had never looked more appealing. Perhaps it was just the vulnerable situation of my young wife naked and spreadeagled before three other men? Perhaps I was just so fully unhinged at that point, my gyroscope was off-center and I had a subconscious need to assert my manhood before my peers.

    The fact she was crying both with embarrassment and I suppose shame at her discovered betrayal, was just icing on the cake. I couldn't spread her enough now and given the disproportionately engorged state of my erection, I needed every degree available.

    Penetrating her, as one might a slut on heat, I was but barely cognizant of any marital bond. I simply had to punish Melissa for her transgressions and forcing myself ever deeper, I noticed with almost dispassionate acceptance...the other men's cum leaking now from her denigrated pussy as little white strings trickled down the inside of her thighs. In my highly aroused state I motioned to Rob and Gary to hold her legs for me.

    It was not what you might adjudge the average consummated act. I was raping her as surely as I breathe - and I wasn't handling that aspect all that well right then either.

   For her part - perhaps out of guilt, maybe in a state of uncontrolled lust - I neither knew or cared which, Melissa's tear-stained face began to respond to my wicked incursions. Her hips too, free of any emotional reticence, began to buck with pleasure, thrusting her pussy up to meet the penetrative invader.

   "I'm sorry Noel," Rob muttered, caressing Melissa along the length of her pussy even as I was fucking her, "But this is so damned hot - I just don't know what to say. Your wife is just so sexy.'

    "Ain't that the truth?" I was thinking as the light turned green and I expelled at Mach 4 at least, every last chromosome I had on board. Melissa simply lay there gasping as I emptied the store-room. Her lovely breasts I noted were jiggling as I continued pumping her, Craig's eyes I could see peering lustfully at that very area of her chest.

    "It's OK Craig," I grinned "Do what you like with her tits, it's on the house!"

    Melissa looked across pleadingly at me as I returned her glance with what probably appeared to be total disdain. Whatever she had been about to say - she withheld, and offered no resistance to Craig's hands as they began fondling her breasts and tugging on her nipples lewdly. If anything I detected some pleasured wriggling at the indecent contact.

    "You're up Gary," I said, turning to my left, indicating he should replace me on the Bridge.

    "Y-You mean I can er, actually do it...with her?" he muttered.

    "Yeah," I replied simply. "Fuck her as hard and as long as you want."

     He didn't need any further prompting and extricating what was understandably a healthy boner, he had her moaning in ecstasy in seconds.

     I gotta say - making eye contact with Melissa as this guy's cock rammed its socially forbidden way up her still tight little slit was quite some emotional wrench - I suspect for both of us. From her viewpoint, shamefully arousing - being taken like a slut in front of her husband while other mens' hands groped her non-stop. From my viewpoint - equally shameful pride at my wife's slim and fully exposed body being treated like a Cro-magnon fuck-fest.

    Either way, Gary was certainly not pondering the semantics of the situation, nor I think dwelling on his own marital obligations. He was simply porking unromantically but most effectively let it be said, a young girl that I had noticed previously he had eyed-off quite unashamedly, in the realtor office when we had winged in there several months earlier.

    "Fuck she is so hot," he muttered, approaching the final square. He only needed a six to win. Melissa, her eyes closed now, was thrusting her hips up to meet her partner's incoming impregnator and gasping in full sexual arousal. What Craig was doing to her tits is no-one's business, while Rob was continuing to play with her pussy lips and seemingly content to massage leaking cum into her thighs and lower abdomen.

    "I'm going to fill her cunt," Gary announced to no-one in particular as he proceeded to do just that. Melissa I knew, was not used to vulgarisms like this, yet she showed no untoward reaction to his words - if anything I detected the onset of a sexy smile. Personally, hearing reference to my young wife's "cunt" was a massive turn-on, I hoped there might be more.

    Figuring that this was a good place for a Commercial break, I told them I would be back after checking on my daughter and that they could make up their own rules as they went along so far as Melissa was concerned. The look she gave me as I exited the room was priceless.

    "You heard the man," was the last thing I heard as I closed the door behind me.

     Little Danielle had barely moved, still lying on her side, no doubt dreaming of that which little girls do and blissfully unaware of her mom's (for the most part - willing) sexual degradation just two doors down the hallway. I intended it should stay that way!

     Pulling the door to, I decided now was as good a time as any to pour myself that double shot of Black Label. The others could wait till they get home I rationalised. Letting them suck and fuck my twenty-two year old wife was right neighborly enough surely? no need to go overboard and bequeath them my best Scotch too!

     On my return they were neither sucking or fucking her however! Either of her own volition or at someone's kinky behest, Melissa had pulled her skimpy black lace panties back on and was rather indelicately draped across Rob's knee right there on the edge of the bed. Her legs kicking like an embarrassed schoolgirl and with Craig and Gary enjoying a handful of jiggling breast each, 'Lissa's shapely bottom was receiving some seriously hard spanking.

    "That hurts," she whimpered as Rob's hand set her right hand ass-cheek quivering beneath the almost see-thru material. Visually, I have to say I could have gotten to like watching this on a regular basis. To be honest, I had never spanked her - even playfully. That she deserved such treatment was beyond question though - I just hoped the sound of male hand descending on sexy female backside, did not awaken my daughter. That might have been hard to explain!...."Mommy's just playing sweetheart!"

    As I entered, Rob looked up. "Don't mind us doing this to your wife do you Noel?" Right then I was actually visualising Adrienne in her own tight little panties, across my knee - and how sexy her rear-end would look, as I so indecently heated it up. I wondered what Rob might think of that little scenario. A loud cry from Melissa as one of Rob's spanks connected with her upper thigh brought me back to Earth.

    "Hey guys," I said, "Tone it down a bit would you? Don't want our small daughter waking up and asking questions thanks.

    "Let me have a turn," Gary chipped in, stepping up to the podium as it were. Rob stayed his hand and proffering Melissa's far-from sated little rear, looked on as Gary delivered the first of several quite hard spanks across both ass-cheeks. If I didn't know better, I would swear she was arching her back with pleasure whilst at the same time pressing down with her pussy on the side of his knee.

     Either way, there could be no doubting the arousal-value of her sexy little breasts, as they jiggled there in full view of an entranced audience, in response to each contacted spank. Rob and Craig in fact were availing themselves of her bra-less state, groping and fondling her nipples with reckless abandon. It wasn't a scene her father could ever have envisaged let's say, not to mention the Catholic Priest who married us.

     One could only make the comment that the evening degenerated into even grayer areas after that. Once you have defined the sexual playing-field, established the willingness and almost limitless complicity of the sole female team-member (especially at just twenty-two) the rules of the game are no longer governed by the Marquess of Queensbury.

     After the spanking session ran its course and predictably Craig insisted on delivering his six on her bare bottom, the other two delighting in the opportunity to pull her panties down once more, as her token resistance ran its course......we tied her up and acted rather badly.

     All four of us raped her - there being no other way to describe what we perpetrated upon that helpless and restrained set of curves. Melissa is only a small girl - not even five-three in bare feet and weighing-in at no more than 120 pounds, hardly in a position to repel the sexual advances of four adult males.

     Passing out with sensory overload more than once, we had her conventionally on her back, standing - while held up by two men in rotation, face-down on the quilt and of course, on all fours - that delightfully rosy little backside almost detracting from the inner dripping cavern it so zealously guarded.

     My own participation of course, I viewed as just punishment. I wanted her humiliated, used and abused - 'till death do us part' pretty much. I think she sensed this - even as Gary fucked her mercilessly in the position favored by any self-respecting Husky, 'Lissa just looked across at me with an expression clearly implying, "Is this degrading enough for you?"

     When finally the three of them left - unable to walk except in extreme discomfort one imagines, I just looked down at her cum-splattered body - red-raw sore, bruised and hand-marked as it was...and you know, inside I just felt...nothing.

    Crawling beneath the covers, I was asleep long before she returned from the shower.

(C) Peter_Pan 2006

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Living then in the county of Kent, just a couple of miles outside the Greater London border, I grew up cocooned in a world of Harry Potter type kids all with their middle-class Brit accents. Ruth herself was so very like Emma Watson who plays Hermione in the HP films, right down to her hair, facial features and totally adroit Englishness. She was fourteen, just a few months older than Emma. Think of her and you’re 4/5 of the way to seeing Ruth although in a classic beauty shoot-out, Emma would be coming in a distant second.

Most years our family, of which I was an only child, would head-off to my Great Aunt’s farm, set in the wilds of the Yorkshire Dales. Only twenty minutes or so from the tiny village of Hawarth where Emily Bronte and her sisters lived and where Heathcliff wanders still his beloved Wuthering Heights . The 19 th century farmhouse where we stayed had neither sewerage or electricity but no-one in 2004 even working with the most technologically advanced kitchen equipment available, could cook anything to compare tastewise with what was served-up in that tiny farmhouse beneath a flickering gas-light. I lived for the next steam-train trip that would take me north to my closeted and remote little spiritual home.

Immediately adjacent to the farmhouse was a good-size barn in which my Uncle would feed and milk the cattle, daily occupations as far removed from my own experiential domesticity as Hans Solo and the Millennium Falcon might be adjudged so far as the Wright Brothers are concerned. Nevertheless, I slipped into "farm life" without the least parental urging.

The summer holidays then, some five months subsequent to my thirteenth birthday, saw us enjoying another farm visitation up there on the picturesque moors. It was a Friday. I recall this clearly because mom had promised to take me to the local movie-house, a decrepit but intimate old relic in a nearby township, some twenty-five minutes walk from the farm, alongside those old stone walls which separated field from field, property from property…and on those cold misty nights – legend from legend. That’s what one did in those days – walk! Films were only run there Saturday nights and I recall it was the following day!

Some time around mid-afternoon that Friday, while chasing cows, sheep, chickens and poor old Dobbin - so ancient a sway-back, it was definitely a dead horse walking - around their own fields, I heard my dad call me from far-off. Scooting back up to the farmhouse, Mom, Dad and my Uncle were chatting to another family.

"Say, this is my son Noel," said dad. I shook hands with the man and nodded to his wife. Evidently they were staying for the week in the farm-house right across the way. The "way" being a road no more than twelve feet wide between the properties. I could have tossed a stone from my bedroom clear through their kitchen window……could probably have flicked it!

"And this is their daughter Ruth," Dad was continuing. I looked up at her and lost my power of speech. Nothing was working…..my arms. voicebox…..brain!

"Well say hello to Ruth, Noel," said my mom, "She’s just fourteen – a bit older than you. Maybe you’d like to play with her? (Jesus Christ – thinking back now, what an incredible slip of the tongue that little statement was!)…show her over the farm maybe?"

I managed some strangled sound like "Y-oh"….a resulting cross between "Yes (mom)" and "Hello." Ruth looked less than impressed but allowed me to direct her back the way I had just come.

"You two be back for tea in an hour or so!" called out dad. If I had been seventeen, I wouldn’t even have been back!

Now, I was hardly what you’d call a ‘smooth operator’ at thirteen. I had known from the first time my eyes fully focused shortly after birth that I liked girls! My best friend at junior high, she who I had sat beside since day-one in primary school was most definitely a girl and I’d had a thing for my younger cousin since she was eight. Sexually however, aside from a couple of show and tell sessions behind the lounge with my cousin when age-wise, we were yet to hit double figures, and hot little Carmen who had charged me threepence to "have a feel" in fourth grade one afternoon, I had no reason to doubt the stork theory!

And yet, as I helped Ruth over that first stile (a wooden ‘step’ arrangement, built to enable one to cross those old stone walls, between fields) and the brief flash of her knickers as she climbed over…I knew intinctively that some up-till-now unutilised software was kicking-in.

One thing I did have going for me – I could hold a conversation and with Ruth this was a ground-level entry requirement. Well read, intelligent, but equally (so I discovered) impulsive and adventurous, she was no wimpy arm decoration.

"This is such fun," she called out to me, crossing her fourth stile. She wasn’t far off the mark either.

The extreme southern ends of the property were marked by the onset of the banks of the beautiful river Nidd. A timeless old waterway whose shallow but crystal-clear waters were stocked with enough trout to satisfy generations of retired Yorkshiremen. Linking my Great Aunt’s farm with the neighboring property across the river was a sturdy but none too steady ‘swing bridge.’ Only able to carry one abreast, it was aptly named, as Ruth found out.

"Oh Gosh!" she uttered, as almost mid-center, the bridge’s lateral motion caused her to slip backwards. She fell against me as I caught her. Just for a moment I held her there and she turned as if to say something, her face but inches from mine. Even in that instant, I knew she was everything to me…completely nonsensical as that sounds and especially with the benefit of but thirty minutes relational co-existence.

Whatever awareness came to her at that second, she held-on to it, but from that moment on, existed an unspoken bond between us. Having wandered across a few neighboring fields, we returned to the farm property and I took the opportunity to demonstrate my prowess skimming stones downriver.

"Let me try that," she said and promptly buried my best throw with a perfect flat trajectory that pulled in ten "bounces" before heading into some distant mud-flats. My highest had been eight! That was Ruth!

As feminine as they come, she knew all the tricks. The cutesy smile, hair tossed over her shoulders at strategic moments, eyes wide for effect, "helpless little girl" routine" (as if!) Fact is, the gulf, both physically and emotionally, between a thirteen-year old boy and a fourteen-year old girl is laughably distant.

Not that I was feeling out-matured or even out out of my depth as such. I was enjoying every moment of her company. We sat there on that lush green river bank and talked about just about everything. School to home-life, pasts and futures, likes and dislikes. At one stage I was just so enraptured, I must have been staring at her. She stopped and asked,

"What are you looking at?" I remember just saying simply, "You!"

She actually blushed and that made me feel self-conscious. Right about then I heard my father calling-out and I knew we were way past our allotted hour or so. Playfully, and I suppose in some ways with a child’s enthusiasm, I grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet as we took off across the fields. She didn’t let go of me until we reached the front gate.

After tea we played multiple games of "Concentration." Just sitting on the floor with her, listening to her laugh when I forgot where the other ‘eight’ was…her hand brushing against mine as she leaned across to turn over the matching ‘King,’ her sharp little intake of breath and the way she would hold her hand to her chest when she made a pair. I see it all now as clearly as I did then. The absolute last thing I wanted to hear was mom saying,

"Noel, it’s nine o’clock, Ruth has to go back over the road now." Dad walked her across, but not before I collected my shoes and went with them.

"Are you doing anything in the morning?" she asked sweetly.

If I had been due to collect the Nobel Peace prize, I would have cancelled it. I told her I wasn’t and dad, looking at me knowingly, smiled and said.

"Not really Ruth, would you like to come over and spend some time with Noel?….assuming its OK with your parents?"

I really think I caught the faintest blush – I was having such trouble standing up I couldn’t really be sure.

I went to sleep that night just staring out my window across the roadway.

You’ll notice that aside from drawing a comparison with Emma Watson, I haven’t made any real attempt to described Ruth in detail. I will paint for your benefit right now the picture of a young girl that dad ushered into our tiny kitchen the following morning, just as I was finishing my breakfast cereal. Remember though this is a recalled image from a child’s memory not an adult’s.

Poise…that’s the word for it…..I didn’t know it then, but she had such poise. Her shoulder length light brown hair – it must surely have just been washed, had a natural wave through it and framed her beautiful little face to perfection. She had it pulled back at either side with small mica clasps and her mother had either donated or bought her a simple but pretty pair of earrings that glinted when she turned her head. Ruth had that "just scrubbed" look and she smelled of fresh flowers and youthful promise.

As it was quite a warm morning, she was wearing the simplest of little short-sleeved cream colored tops with just a couple of buttons at the neck. I remember now, the pretty white lace-edging around the sleeves. Obviously planning on some serious cross-field hiking she had on a pair of dark blue girl’s pants and matching-color running shoes.

She must have had the most beautiful youthful figure (as I’m sure my dad would have noticed!) but I had as much knowledge, interest and experience in sexual matters then as I did in current affairs. What I did have an interest in, was getting out of that farmhouse with her at the first available second!

"No more than a couple of hours," said mom, as we hightailed it out through the main gate. " Three hours is close enough," I was thinking!

Both Middlesmoor and Nidderdale are sight-seeing valleys within commutable distance of the farm and both offer magnificent wind-swept views of the moors. We lit out for Middlesmoor, being slightly nearer. Some of the more elevated stiles I spent double the time necessary helping Ruth over – I’m sure she noticed! I think she even took her time climbing them.

It was the most balmy of English summer mornings, non-penetrative heat and the occasional light breeze being the order of the day. Successfully negotiating our two hundredth field so it seemed, the heights of Middlesmoor stretched before us…acres of swaying heather leading the way and lending to the casual traveller a gentle if not rather exhiliarating scent. Ruth and I hadn’t shared much in the way of conversation mainly on account of the fact this was all so new to her and she was completely taken up with the experience. I of course had walked this way so many times with mom.

"It’s just so beautiful up here isn’t it?" she said to me, sitting on a huge rock that had been there long before Moses came down off Mount Ararat. The wind at that moment was blowing her hair across her face and she looked like an angel…one that Michaelangelo would have liked to sculpt. I sat beside her and without any thought for the consequences, turned my head to her and just kissed her.

It was only the briefest of contact – and I was so shocked at my own forward behavior I had no idea what to say as a follow-up. I think I stood up and muttered "sorry" or something equally inane. Half expecting a slap across the face, I was primed for anything except what happened. She just whispered "Come here," and pulling me back down beside her, returning the most wonderful kiss flush on my sadly inexperienced lips.

In hindsight, over the years I have experienced several electrical discharges…light sockets, frayed wires – even taken a full charge direct off the spark plugs of a V8 Falcon

It was, as far as lip to lip duration goes, brief - not much longer than mine but if I had gotten up from that rock I would have been unable to balance properly.

"You are sooo sweet," she said, hands folded neatly in her lap now. "You don’t have to apologise for kissing me," she added giggling.

"Can I do it again then?" I asked hopefully.

"Later maybe," she replied, teasing me unmercifully.

"C’mon," she said, "lets walk the rest of the way." She took my hand….I felt such a child!

As we walked, I was aware of a nagging irritation. It bothered me to such an extent I half whispered to her as we negotiated another stone wall,

"Ruth, have you kissed any other boys?" I desperately wanted to hear her denial.

She stopped, turned and still holding my hand said,

"Oh, that is such a funny question," but seeing as I wasn’t laughing, she added, "Well actually….no I haven’t – never met a boy I ever wanted to kiss me…..you’re the first – honestly!" I knew it was the truth.

"So you wanted me to kiss you?" I teased.

"I didn’t say that," she retorted, slipping effortlessly into a demure, "I’m much more grown-up than you" mode….which she was!

"You did kinda …." I replied, trying to get full mileage out of my deductive brilliance. She just flashed me a pretty smile and the subject I knew, was at an end.

No sooner did we make the summit of Middlesmoor than it was time to head back and even then the three-hour time allotment was looking iffy. We saw so much….the old Roman ruins atop Scanlon’s Ridge, the tiny bus-stop in Summerbridge called "New York," the caverns where a family of black panthers were said to have made a home for themselves. None of them though came close to watching Ruth. Crouching down smelling the heather, brushing her beautiful hair out of eyes after the wind had taken liberties with it, hugging herself as she sat down occasionally to take in the view.

As the old farm came into distant focus, I felt the magic unravelling - my most acute pleasure up for imminent termination. I held her hand ever tighter, I never wanted to let her go.

Riding out the inevitable "Didn’t I tell you just two hours Noel?" cross examination, after we had winged-it across the last couple of fields to the gate, mom relented and in just one sentence, restored my faith in miracles. Turning to Ruth she said,

"Would you like to come to the cinema tonight with us?"

Ruth looked as happy as my heartbeat was suddenly irregular.

"I spoke to your mom and dad," she was continuing, "They said its fine with them if you’d like to come."

As it happened, they were showing a screening of Disney’s Peter Pan (Yes, now you know why!) that night. It may as well have been "A Political Discourse On the Causes of the Indo-China war," for all the attention I was paying the screen. I took every opportunity to glance at her sweet little profile, hoping she wouldn’t see. Occasionally she turned and caught me looking at her but just smiled at me. She let me hold her hand right through the session and more than once I saw Dad glance downwards. If it were possible to see a replay of it all now, I think you would sense his unspoken encouragement.

"Hold-on tight son, angels like her don’t drop-by all that often."

Last thing that evening she permitted me a further goodnight kiss. I was still slumped against the window-sill when I woke up the next morning.

I think by now, Ruth’s parents were resigned to the fact they wouldn’t be seeing too much of their daughter until they got home. Had it been my choice, they’d have to have been content with the odd postcard!

It was the next day that my up-till-then sublimely uncomplicated life was to be hijacked, re-formatted and dragged screaming into pleasurably near adulthood.

The weather had done a complete three-sixty, as the Brit climate is well known to do….especially during the summer vacation. Caught mid-field by a drenching little shower, Ruth and I scurried like drowned rats to the safety of the barn. Mom, dad and Ruth’s parents had gone to Harrogate City together for the day – some twenty miles or so distant. Since I couldn’t interest her in a handful of oats, we shinned up the ladder to the hay loft.

As luck would have it, Ruth had slipped on a new summer dress that morning, a simple yellowish cotton affair with a neat little black belt – I remember that well for reasons that will become obvious. The whole dress was pretty wet and she was sitting on a hay bale holding it out before her and lamenting its rapid absorbtion rate. Her hair even was quite damp and curling up around the edges. I was in no drier a state. We decided to wait it out and to dry off a bit. Following the last few days quite hot weather, it was very warm up in that loft and we figured our clothes would soon dry.

What is it with hay? Maybe it just looks inviting to toss people in…especially girls! Whatever, we were ragging about, acting like a couple of dumbo schoolkids and while I was teasing her and holding her wrists, she slipped out of my grip and fell on her back in the hay. I saw my chance to overpower her and kneeling there, pinioned her arms above her head. She may have been more mature…and definitely way prettier, but I was stronger!

At what stage exactly something tapped me on the shoulder and said "Time to grow up kid," I couldn’t say, but something in her expression pressed buttons somewhere and as I moved my face close to hers I saw the ‘welcome sign’ flash on. This kiss was way less juvenile….longer too. That isn’t to say I had the least idea what I was either doing or starting. What I do remember, she didn’t pull away, she simply jerked her hands free and placed them round my neck. For the first time I think I became aware of her femininity and the effect her closeness was having on me.

Lying there as she was, her dress had risen well up her legs and way past her knees and obviously something blueprinted in the male psyche kicked in. More in an exploratory sense than with any sexual intent – God, I didn’t even know what "sexual" meant - I remember just tentatively putting my hand on her thigh and being entranced by its smoothness and heat. Ruth still had her arms around my neck as we we continued kissing like laughably outright amateurs I imagine. Oh, but how wonderful was it?

Perhaps that was as far as it would have gone – I certainly had no game-plan – but she took my hand and pulled it up until it was resting right across the front of her panties. She held it there. I remember her just looking up at me with that needful little-girl expression and smiling gently. I don’t know how I avoided becoming catatonic. All I could feel was….heat and softness.

I couldn’t speak, I was as embarrased as all hell but there was no way I was about to shift my hand. I remember pressing in a little – it must have pretty much separated her labia – not that I would have known what they were from a Hershey Bar. Ruth let out a small gasp but continued to kiss me. I got bolder and may even have rubbed her pussy a little through her panties. What I do remember is her expression and how it changed from being one of cheeky-tease to (as I realise now) hot young girl.

She let me pull her dress up until her cute little white knickers were almost exposed. I marvelled at all those smooth mounds and curves before me. Never having seen a girl up close and personal like this before, I definitely wanted to see more. I recall her softest of little gasps as I slipped a hand inside those cotton briefs. I was on death row…but didn’t care. As my hand slid down, I felt her pubic hair and her expression changed to one of urgency. Too bad I had no idea what I was doing or how to proceed.

More by luck than judgment I imagine, I found the real heat-source…her moist pussy and I didn’t need any prompting to slip a finger inside. That was Ruth’s cue to wriggle and mine to just about pass out. One thing I’d figured out already. First day back at school I was going to front-up to Carmen and get my threepence back. She’d taken my money under false pretences. No hair and a slit one half the size of Ruth’s. Sure, she was only nine at the time but still, threepence is threepence.

How long I squatted there rubbing her pussy I have no idea…..I seem to remember Ruth getting quite animated. I was deliriously happy in my sexually complicit vacuum having no clue as to what power I wielded in those thirteen year old hands.

Whether out of desperation or determination to teach me the whole enchilada I don’t know, but she actually slipped her own panties off and spread her legs for me. I could have been struck dumb, I certainly suffered some sort of temporary paralysis. What I was looking at was just outside my comfort zone, and yet, the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Her pussy was surrounded by lots of light brown hair and how embarrassing – mine had barely started to grow. It wasn’t her hair I was looking at though, it was her beautiful slit and feminine construction. The thought of kissing or licking her down there simply never occurred to me, I rather doubt it did to her either.

I think I muttered something excruciatingly retarded like "You are so pretty Ruth" but in all honesty I had no idea what was expected of me. Maybe for a change of stimulus or perhaps she really did want to kill me, but as I sat there performing like a mechanical sex-toy, she took my other hand and pulled it to her breast. Funny how most young boys always gravitate towards a girl’s pussy rather than her breasts…to be honest I can’t even recall looking at her breasts up until that point. I remember feeling her bra and wondering what it was for….it was only tiny and her breasts were pretty small too. But dear God, what a fantastic new sensation…having a hand down her top. I prayed for more rain!

Again the fear of following in another’s footsteps (or handprints) made me ask her if she had ever done anything like this before. Her shocked reaction, quite close to tears actually, convinced me of this improbability. I held her to me then and with my childlike inexperience I told her I loved her. She asked me if I would like to undress her.

I just didn’t know what to say and must have looked such a tongue-tied dickwad, she undid that little belt and all the buttons on her dress from hem to bra. I simply watched entranced as she let the dress slide off her and having unhooked her bra, she lay there completely naked. I couldn’t take my eyes off her beautiful small breasts…..dumber still, I don’t even recall if her nipples were erect. Mind you, I wouldn’t have known an erect nipple from a plate of jellied eels. She reached up and pulled me to her until my face was at nipple level. I kissed her there and can recall with vivid clarity what they felt, and tasted like. I remember too her asking plaintively.. "Ohh keep doing that."

It seemed to me she rather liked being naked in my presence…..nothing she said or did you understand…just a feeling I had. Girls are so much less inhibited than boys (God…..look at Jenna and Kylie now) Anyway, inevitably she asked me if I would like to undress. I think I almost screamed out "Mummy!"

"C’mon," she said, "Don’t be shy, I’m naked…take your clothes off too. Besides, they’ll dry quicker." Actually, she had a point there – almost had me convinced! I was just sitting there unmoving.

"OK," she said, making as if to put her clothes back on. What brilliant psychology is inherent in the female make-up!

"Oh, Alright then," I muttered and standing there, undid my shirt buttons as slow as I knew how. Still I could but drag my eyes from her pretty breasts and beautiful pussy that she was taking every care not to cover up, even for a moment.

It went OK until my underpants. No-one had seen inside them, let alone a naked fourteen year old girl just four feet away.

"I can’t," I said abruptly.

"Why not?" she asked……"You don’t mind looking at me do you?"

"You’ll laugh at me," I said evincing my inner fears. "Have you ever seen a boy naked?" I asked….hoping against hope that she hadn’t.

"No," she said, "But you’re sooo cute…I’d really like to."

So refreshingly honest were her words, I felt suddenly at ease with her, and just slipped my pants off. I knelt there as naked as the day I was born and trembling in her presence.

True to her word, she didn’t laugh. She just looked at me rather entreatingly.

"May I have a feel?" she asked. "He looks just soo cute!"

I had a very small penis – least it seemed so to me….and probably the direct result of secondary shock but I’m sure I had no erection. I had led a very sheltered existence and without exposure to the seamier side of life had less than no experience in this area. Masturbation was completely unknown to me.

I looked down as her hand caressed me, wanting to apologise for just the few sparse hairs in attendance. She looked at me in such a loving and tender way I had to kiss her again. I felt her love…better still, I felt something else. What the hell was it? my penis had a life of its own suddenly. I blushed stupid and she saw me.

"It’s OK," she said "Don’t worry….does that feel nice?"

"Feel nice????" was she kidding? It felt awesomely pleasant.

"Boys are supposed to like this," she said…continuing to do what I was "supposed" to like. Shame I could no longer speak!

Still tiny compared to an adult erection, I must have been double my normal size as she continued to ply her trade digitally. I had a sudden urge to put my fingers in her and in fact manouvered my body so that I could penetrate her quite deeply as she continued working her wonders between my legs.

As this totally alien but wholly encompassing feeling rose somewhere deep inside me I noticed my own exertions were having a significantly profound effect on Ruth’s general demeanor. Her hips I noticed were thrusting up towards my fingers and she was closing her eyes and making all sorts of little noises. Not a minute later, she let out a deep sigh and she held my hand hard against her pussy even with my fingers deep inside her. I’m sure I felt her shake quite a bit.

Leaning forward, she kissed me again and recommenced rubbing me with earnest. The feeling I had earlier returned twofold. I began to breath with difficulty and I found myself focused on the area she was manipulating. Without my doing anything, I felt my body tense and something I could neither describe or understand gripped me. Both embarrased and awestruck, I watched as this jet of white creamy stuff ejected from my erection all over Ruth’s tummy.

She was so pleased with herself and simply enquired,

"Was that nice?" I honestly couldn’t speak and just covered my embarrassment the best way I could.

After that, we lay together for what seemed like a couple of hours. Just snuggled up in the hay, me occasionally feeling her breasts or rubbing her softly between her legs while she would play with my erection once in a while.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway saw action of a different sort. So mortified was I, I started putting her dress on. We were buttoned-up though and down that ladder before they had the motor off.

We had three more wonderful days together and didn’t miss a solitary opportunity. It was during that time also that I learned the wonders of a self-help program and how to handle my own affairs if you get my drift! I figure Ruth already knew.

The day that Ruth had to leave and her family lived some two hundred miles from Kent, remains the most emotionally desolate moment of my life. Even with the promise that she would come and stay a week with us at our home at the end of term, was small consolation. Barely able to hold myself in check as they sped off down the roadway that afternoon, I watched gutted, as my beautiful Ruth waved to me from that small back window. Once out of sight and completely blinded by tears, I climbed that ladder back up to the hay loft and sat there in wretched misery replaying all that we had done together, all that she had taught me and wishing hopelessly that she would come back to me.

Now however I realise she never really left me. I see her in Jenna. Occasionally she smiles at me through Kylie’s beautiful eyes. She shows herself to me in Michelle’s behaviour. She is for ever fourteen as I am eternally just a few months younger than her.

But I know if I ever go back to that desolate and romantic moor, she will be sitting on that rock waiting for me - even now. The wind will be blowing her lovely hair across her face and she will look up and smile as I approach. She will let me hold her hand and then take me where I want to go. I am still such a child.

Copyright 2004

For anyone interested, details of

Cool Among The Flames may be found at the link http://www.lulu.com/content/58669 . That one put me on by back for the count. But the sensation that arced through me that second as she kissed me, ran out first place let me tell you!

   "I've been in a few tricky situations in my life Trace." I told her. "Always managed to extricate myself somehow, so let me go talk to your step-mom. Worst that can happen is that she keeps a shotgun in the broom closet somewhere."

    That at least brought a smile to her pretty face.

                               **

    Kathy though was not smiling. I sat myself down at the breakfast table. The District Attorney was considering her opening address.

   "She's just fifteen Bill, how could you?"

   "A moment of unheralded weakness Kathy," I replied. "Maybe I've been single too long...maybe not long enough? Perhaps the offer - and truly Kathy, the suggestion did not come from me - flattered my ego." I could see I was not helping my case, to judge by Kathy's expression.

  "Maybe you're just an entrenched pedophile Bill?" she rounded on me. "Just how many other 'moments' like this have there been in the recent past?"

   "Why none Kathy." I lied outright. Sure, she's been flirty...they all have to be honest, but hey that's just young girls for you - you know that!"

    She looked me over a couple of times. "The only reason I'm not calling the Police Bill is that I know Tracy well enough to believe she is hardly likely to have been a completely innocent party, not that it excuses what you did to her you understand?" I nodded dutifully.

   "However you look at it though, you still took advantage of a majorly underage girl Bill - and that just isn't acceptable....even if she did make it easy for you. I thought better of you than that."

    Just for a second she lowered her eyes and I can almost swear I saw the look of a girl whose boyfriend she had just discovered exiting the girls' locker room with a pair of panties hanging out of his trouser pocket.

    I looked up at her. She really was a fine looking woman..

   "Kathy," I began, but she held her hand up. "No Bill, don't say anything else, I'm really upset about this." My instincts told me that it was somewhat more than just Tracy she was upset about!

   "Look," I said eventually, "I know nothing I can say will make things right Kathy, and I can never justify my actions with Tracy, but would you let me at least take you to dinner tonight?"

    She looked across at me with a healthy, if not understandable degree of scepticism. "Just give us an opportunity to talk between ourselves - away from the kids for a while." I continued. "I'd really like that."

    I watched as her mind ran the numbers. Was this just my pitiful attempt to smooth over the situation? Would accompanying me on a date fatally undermine her position of authority? How long was it since any man had asked her out?

   "If I agree Bill, it doesn't mean that I'm happy about what's happened," she answered deliberately. "Or that I'm just gonna forget about it." She added spontaneously.

   "Deal," I said. "Think the worst of me all night...I probably deserve it anyway." I added grinning.

    The three girls were not overly delighted at being left alone for the evening. Tracy was looking at me with quite obvious distrust. Mandy left the dinner-table early and slunk back to her room, while Mary wanted to know if she could stay awake till we got home?

    For a town with barely three thousand population, Greensboro offers a pretty comprehensive range of eating options. At Kathy's suggestion we made it to the "Lucky 32 Restaurant" on Westover Terrace. The food was up there with the best New York has to offer and the service pleasingly efficient.

    By the time we had disposed of the shared appetiser - pan fried crab cakes - Kathy had recalled in detail the early years with the girls' father. Hadn't been anything you would particularly want over by the sounds of things.

    For mains, Kathy opted for the 'Southern Crescent Chicken' smothered in pimento cheese while I took delivery of one enormous 'Kentucky Ribeye,' marinated so they advertise, in bourbon overnight. This freed up the conversation further and by the time we had emptied the bottle of Veuve Clicquot Yellow Label also, there was little either did not know about the other. I was beginning to imagine Kathy in positions other than those that might be referred to as demure!

    Although my wallet took a substantial beating at the check-out, courtesy of the Veuve one must admit, no-one has ever exited a restaurant world-wide, more replete or better serviced gastronomically. I held her hand as we made our way back to the pick-up and the messages I was getting, bespoke anything but confrontation.

    It being well after eleven thirty when we got back, we checked on the girls. All were sound asleep. I gave Mary the lightest kiss on the cheek. "Such a little cutie," I muttered.

   "Such a little manipulator you mean?" Kathy half-giggled. I looked up at her. The war on terror was not foremost in my mind let's say!

    Can't say for certain now what triggered the ensuing activities. I recall giving Kathy a goodnight kiss at her bedroom doorway. Perhaps the Veuve had one last kick in its tail, but no more than five minutes later I was unzipping her dress mid coverlet, and with Kathy adorned suddenly in no more than her bra and panties, I really could think of no good reason for going back to my own bed.

    Even with the lights out, the room played host to sufficient moonlight that I could clearly make out the urgency in her expression. She gasped as I slipped the bra straps down her arms and as her breasts were freed of their constraints, I realised abruptly the yawning gulf that exists between a pretty teenager and an experienced woman.

    Slipping her panties off I eased her down alongside me and kissed her with all the passion so beautiful a female demands. She clung to me, yet it was I felt the student. Her nipples had grown noticeably erect and as I manipulated them between thumb and forefinger she began issuing sighs of obvious pleasure, all the while encouraging me to further exploratories.

    I allowed my hand to slip between her legs where a trimmed softness welcomed my inbound invaders to the city outskirts before leading inexorably to those delicate moist folds that like rose petals confronted by the morning sun, opened up their inner secrets releasing their enticing scent.

    Her sighs turned to gentle moans and as I increased the pressure on her clitoral nub, she spread her legs quite unconsciously, greatly facilitating my dexterous incursion. I leaned forward and gently suckled her right nipple which had her moaning yet louder, even as my own pleasures were escalating in direct proportion to the rapidly solidifying tissue between my own legs.

   "Make love to me Bill," someone whispered but inches from my ear.

    LeAnn Rimes had it right all along - you really can't fight the moonlight. Thus positioning myself between those deliciously parted thighs, I allowed her to guide my overhead camshaft into that tight channel where it might perform at peak efficiency.

    At this juncture be it known, Kathy wasn't so much lubricated as awash with pleasured expectation. Didn't feel too bad from my viewpoint either. Penetrating her to the depths I was aware of Kathy's now constant moaning and the way she was using her hips to maximise each thrust. I was the quintessential runaway train - not only without brakes, but consigned to whatever was at the end of the line. Right that second I was kinda hoping it might be twins!

   "I love you Kathy" I whispered to her. Not only was it the truth right that second, I'm sure she believed me. Either way a lot happened right about then.

    Even as her vaginal muscles clamped down, inducing a 'no retreat, no surrender' aspect to the rules of engagement, I found myself orgasmically at the mercy of the Gods on Mount Olympus. I'm sure Zeus must have had a hand well inside Hera's robe somewhere, because what spurted then fully uncontrollably around the walls of Kathy's vagina must surely have been at the behest of some divine intervention. No mortal ever produced so on-going a procreative torrent.

    Smiling in piqued satisfaction, Kathy lay there, one hand between her legs the other arm holding me to her. Kissing her with all the passion my abused body could still muster I pulled the bedclothes up. She was asleep in moments, I doubt I was more than five minutes behind her.

                                  **

    Given the fact it was obviously still the middle of the night, I was wondering what had awoken me. A vague movement to the right of the bed went a long way to explaining this ponderance. Instinct rather than visuals told me it was Tracy.

   "What the hell?" I whispered, "What are you doing here Trace?"

   "How could you do this to me Bill?" came the muffled response. "I thought you loved me?" She had moved her face close up to mine.

   "Are you crazy?" I mouthed barely audibly. "You'll wake Kathy up - you want that?"

   "You fucked her didn't you," she sounded like she had begun to sob. "I heard you both - that's what woke me up."

   "Tracy, we'll talk about this in the morning OK?" My mouth was but inches from her face as I spoke. It proved to be my undoing. Before I could make any counter move, she slipped herself up under the coverlet laying on me full length - quite obviously naked.

   "Make love to me," she whispered in my ear, not only squashing her young breasts up against my chest but ensuring that her pussy was thrust hard down against my crotch where nature was unavoidably taking care of business once again.

    Having no idea how to handle this - after all, every additional word of dialog risked waking Kathy - I just slid my hands across her svelte bottom, fully unable to resist the illicit pleasures on offer.

   "Mmmm" she resonated, wriggling her hips gently and knowing full well the effect that would be having upon my more delicate areas let's say.

   "Stop that," I chided her, though little more than a whisper. "You have to lie still."

    Raising herself just slightly, she slipped a hand beneath her suddenly and taking a hold of something she really shouldn't have, I felt myself being guided into a very familiar playing field. Devoid of any resistance, I pushed up into her, at the same time holding her tightly around the bottom and taking such tactile delight in the contact with those curvy rear cheeks.

    I felt her beginning to moan which left me no choice but to kiss her hard as I very slowly thrust up deeper into that warm and decidedly moist channel.. It was very much a case of just 'being there' and although circumstances precluded the possibility of any wild copulation, there was no shortage of sexual pleasure be assured. When even the least movement by either partner allows one the freedom to plumb yet greater depths, you realise that God really did have your best interests at heart when he designed the female prototype.

    I could feel Tracy's urgency as her legs now well apart, straddled my own as she bore down upon the penile invader within her. Taking a hold of my left hand she guided it to her breasts where she quite obviously desired further stimulation. More than happy to oblige, I began groping her gently and rubbing her already swollen nipples between my thumb and digits.

    Were it not for my kissing her steadily she would have vocally advertised our plight for sure. As it was, I had to hold her tightly against me, less Kathy was awoken by any undue movement. Mercifully she had her back to us and was well across on her side of the bed.

    Even the gentlest of friction inherent in limited movement brings about a need for completion. In many ways, intercourse is even sexier taking it slow and deep - it gives you time to appreciate and sense just what it is you are doing to a girl. Whatever the semantics of the thing, nature had decreed it time I knew, for the Spring tide. Sexy little Tracy knew it too and like her step-mom just hours earlier, was now clamping down vaginally.

    Try as I might, coming in a girl is not really a controllable thing. Tracy I fancy, performed better than me in the upshot. I could not avoid jerking spasmodically which must have produced a few seismic rifts across the bed covers.

    We lay there sated. I was still deep inside her, but diminishing in volume by the second. There was however enough moonlight still that I could make out Tracy's majorly satisfied expression.

   "I want you to just love me," she whispered almost cryptically, before easing herself off me and back on to the carpet. She was out of the room and pulling the door to noiselessly before I had time to make any sort of considered reply.

    Half expecting Mandy to put in an appearance and lets face it, I couldn't have come up with another performance for love or money, I just lay there, weighing up the realities of the night.

    Love triangles are hardly front-page news, but all in the same family? I glanced across at Kathy sleeping peacefully still. Had I not just betrayed her trust yet again? What was my problem? I realised that at some point within the coming twenty four hours I had best make a few hard decisions which any way you looked at it, could not be without casualties.

(c) Peter_Pan

Please visit "The World of Peter_Pan" website:

http://www.geocities.com/worldofpeter_pan/index.html

http://www.geocities.com/worldofpeter_pan/index.html">http://www.geocities.com/worldofpeter_pan/index.html

color="#00ef0e">Other short stories are available at the following links:

Non-erotic: http://www.lulu.com/content/69187

http://www.lulu.com/content/69187">http://www.lulu.com/content/69187

color="#00ef0e">Erotic:     http://www.lulu.com/content/166938

                        ">http://www.lulu.com/content/166938">http://www.lulu.com/content/166938

                            **

Both Harper Valley volumes: http://www.geocities.com/worldofpeter_pan/Bookpage.html

First closing the door to circumnavigate the sudden appearance of any unwanted visitors, he poured himself a bourbon and ice and logged-in to check his email. It was there! "Phantasy_luvr " had finally replied to his cyber-pleas and written to him.

Not a particularly worldly girl to judge by its contents, but nevertheless, that is hardly what he had been hanging out for. A guy nudging his mid fifties, doesn't chat up a young female University student in Nebraska, hoping to better understand the cause of the Indo-China conflict. Having read it twice, he swiftly fired-up MSN Messenger hoping to catch her on-line. Damn, that bourbon was hitting the spot, last half-bottle that it was though.

The dice were falling his way tonight - there she was, already chatting it appeared. He clicked her dialog box, marginally put-out that she might be spreading her favors abroad this night. Such fears were allayed however when she assured him she had just logged-on herself, hoping to find him on-line. His self-esteem restored, his manhood pulling back from damage-control, he fell-in to their now familiar role-playing script. "Phantasy_luvr" confessing her frenetic desire to be used and abused by her daddy, whilst "Mountain-man" provided the paternal patter necessary (he hoped) to have her fingers on active duty in areas he could only dream about...and did he ever do that? - it was becoming a daily ritual.

The Internet is indeed a wonderful thing - the ultimate playing-field of electric dreams.

"Do you like daddy's hand up your skirt, doing this?" he typed one-handedly, it's partner caressing a long dis-used (as far as marital obligations were concerned at least) appendage. The girl's reply was slow in appearing - evidence he took it, that she was indeed caressing deeply that youthful pussy, somewhere in the freezing Nebraskan wilderness.

"I love you daddy," she wrote at last, "If you want to fuck me that's Ok with me!"

He had always wanted a daughter - one who loved him and desired his sexual attentions as well, was even better. He had never been so hard, and three quarters the way to the walled city himself, he typed, leaving nothing to the imagination, his blueprint for what he hoped was their shared orgasmic solace.

At the point she entered, "Oh God!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" into his dialog box, he imagined he had done not only womanhood in general a great service, but that the young girl was now creaming her panties at the behest of his dynamically arousing banter.

She was still describing the on-going sensations afflicting her body anywhere and everywhere between her nipples and southern climes, when he jetted-up a stream of cum that splattered not only his keyboard, but several order forms that would now need judicious cleansing. He smiled to himself as he thought of the boss's elderly secretary, mulling over the occasional stains as she filed the paperwork, tut-tutting at the outrageous possibilities.

"That was incredible" he typed, "Biggest cum I've had all year, thanks," he paused for a moment before continuing. "I know I've asked before sweetheart," he punched in, "But don't you have any pictures you could send me? I would so love to know what you look like?"

"What I look like, or my pussy looks like?" she answered....he could almost hear her giggle!

.

"Either's fine by me," he responded.

"Maybe I'll just take one using the timer on my digital," she typed.

"Make it two - at least," he pleaded, hoping she was even half as pretty as his fantasies had led him to imagine. Chatting was always a risky business he knew - with his luck she might turn out to be a frumpish spinster from Sheboygan, Wisconsin.

After they had each signed off, he sat back in the chair, fully reflective for a few moments. He wasn't 'cheating' on his wife, he reasoned - after all, he wasn't 'seeing' anyone behind her back was he? It was just a bit of harmless sexy fun! My God, it's not like he'd had much of that since his wife had pretty much closed-up shop after Matthew hit double figures.

Problem is - he became so reliant on her sexually complicit nature he found himself spending more and more time on line....and more and more time mopping up his keyboard and peripherals. At the point of each ejaculation he was beginning now to feel her vaginal muscles clamping down at the critical moment - taste her youthful lips - sense her submissive aspect. He was in love with a ghost!

Not a week later and logging-in to his email account he noticed that which he had longed to see. A message from "Phantasy_luvr" but with attachments! Checking first to see whether or not she was on-line, and that being a negative, he clicked on 'Phantasy_1.jpg '.

To describe his condition as catatonic, would be close to the mark.

Perched unashamedly on what looked like a desk in her bedroom, a young brunette of indeterminate age but surely less than the twenty years she had told him, sat completely naked, her legs well apart and her small breasts jutting teasingly towards the camera. Her arms at her side, she was the image of provocative tease. Pretty, to the point of being arrestingly beautiful, Terry could but stare at her sexy light brown pubic curls that drew the viewer's eyes to those soft pink folds bedded down between her legs. He had the picture in photo-shop in seconds and with the slightest of enhancement, a breathtaking angel filled his screen.

Her lips promised the world, her hips - the same. The girl's blue eyes lit up her sweet face that was, as it happened, half-turned for effect. On full imaging, he could study her gentle cleavage and the perfection of her bodily curves. He sighed as he took in the magnificence of her quite small nipples - the epitome of feminine tease.

'Phantasy_2.jpg' couldn't have been any more intimate had Michaelangelo himself directed the scene...or any more disturbing. The girl was on the bed this time, her mouth open in what looked like shocked disbelief.. This might have had something to do with the middle-aged man kneeling between her legs and with his outsize erection as far up her innocent-looking little pussy as he could get it. With one hand fondling her right breast, the overall impression was one of aggravated rape. With her hands up over her head, clinging on to the bed-frame for either support or inspiration, the girl presented an image of total feminine submission.

Not even realising he had his own erection unzipped at this time, Terry brought himself to sticky finality - twice! He would probably have gone for the trifecta, but for the knock at the door. Hurriedly he shut down the monitor and zipped up.

"Could you help me with some homework dad?" his son urged upon his opening the door.

"Sure Matt," he said, his mind on anything but the volume of a ten foot water-tank with a radius of four-foot six inches!

Although he and "Phantasy_luvr" continued to chat from time to time, he sensed a reluctance on her part to discuss the pictures, or confide in him who the man was. "You just kept asking," she said, "So I sent a couple." He inquired if there was more naturally enough, but she was in no mind to ever pursue it. Neither would she discuss her birth certificate except to admit, "I know, I look young for my age!"

It's always annoying when someone turns up at your door late at night, especially mid-way though a good movie. Even more annoying when it's the F.B.I.

"Terry Edwards?" asked the larger, somewhat thick-set gentleman. Terry nodded. "Agent Norris," said the man waving his badged id in my friend's face. "This is Agent Finch," the other man inclined his head dutifully. Understandably curious, Terry shook the man's hand and ushered them inside.

"May we speak to you in private Sir?" said Norris, noting Terry's wife and son hunched up on the lounge. Terry ushered them into the small den..

Glancing at the desk, Norris said "Is that your computer Sir?" to which Terry obviously had no reason that he could figure, to deny it.

"Well, we have Court documents here (he waved some official-looking paperwork in Terry's face) to impound this equipment and to escort you back to the office for further questioning."

Having less than no idea what was going on, he had but three minutes to hurriedly farewell his family and fetch a coat - it was a cold night.

At F.B.I. headquarters he was kept in a holding room for almost two hours before he was interviewed by a third agent - one he admitted later was a tad more relaxed and pleasant.

They were keeping his computer he was told, to thoroughly analyse for possible "illegal images of children." It could take a week they said.

"But there's no kiddie-porn on there," he argued....."nothing at all!" He demanded to know why they had targeted him but was told to simply "go home" and wait to hear from them.

"Look, it's nothing major," he was assured, "Just following-up on another case Sir. Please go home now - we'll be in touch." Protesting that he needed the computer for work, all they admitted to him is "It's possible you might have your hard-disc erased by our software."

Over three weeks elapsed and still he had heard nothing. So calling headquarters back he was told "Our investigations are still in progress Sir - you'll have to be patient. Sorry for the inconvenience. We should be back to you inside a week."

They were too!

"Just the one picture Sir," said Agent Norris, "But that's all it takes isn't it? She was just twelve years old....and that was her father!" The handcuffs really left a lasting impression on his wife and son as they dragged him off that night.

Charged under Federal Law, Terry pulled down a minimum five and a half years. He is now incarcerated at the State lock-up in the Springfield slammer. His son will be eighteen when he gets out and his wife confided to me a few days ago that unless she can come up with four grand in back payments by the end of this week, the bank will be foreclosing on the house in a fortnight. She has nowhere to go and is shattered. I doubt Matthew ever gets over it.

Be aware, every photograph transmitted on Hotmail, Yahoo, MSN, etc, is likely to be 'tracked,' you need to be guilty of nothing more than turning your computer on and clicking on the wrong image!

Terry did nothing....he procured no services, on-forwarded no pictures to anyone, encouraged not the slightest indecency with any third party - or even knew the girl's age?

By comparison - a High School teacher in Western Sydney last year was convicted of setting-up high-resolution digital video recording equipment in the Year Nine locker rooms, spying on the girls in the showers, physically molesting two fourteen-year olds and storing more than three thousand images of naked girls as young as eight - many in poses the Police described as horrifying. He got three years jail and a five grand fine. With good behavior, he’ll be out in two years!

(c) Peter_Pan 2006

"The World Of Peter Pan"

http://www.geocities.com/worldofpeter_pan/index.html

color="#00ef0e">"The Complete Harper Valley" http://www.lulu.com/content/106537

 

 

 

 

 

    Despite the fact that the three of them had cut all ties with the Valley, their lives back on-track....above and below the waist, I had always sensed an unspoken 'desire' if you wish, in all of them, to just once...'return to the scene of the crime.'

    In her last year at school, Jenna often 'looked' at me when I dropped her off some mornings, like she wanted me to take her home and forget I was her father for a few hours once again. Kylie would still come by my room to kiss me goodnight some nights and it didn't need an expert in body language to interpret her real motives for being there. Natalie too would come home from either a date or a girlfriend's place and we would have a late-night coffee in the den. The way she would hold my hand while talking, left no doubt that the memory of our nights spent together was never that far away.

    There has been another consequence to Harper Valley however. Aside from the hundreds of emails sent-in from readers worldwide - the greater proportion of which remains as I have mentioned before, female - principally in the 16-23 year-old sector - I have heard from a great many fathers (almost always in their mid forties) expressing their bitter frustration not only that they can never sexually possess their own daughters, but that they are unable to express their feelings to anyone. As great a panacea as Harper Valley may have been for them to read in terms of a physical outlet let's say, it has magnified for many, their own heartache and illicit desire for their young daughters. Many believe their feelings are requited but can never take that quantitative step of actually asking their daughters for fear of a subsequent domestic melt-down. Once you suggest your teenage daughter sleeps with you - there really is no way back from that, should she be shocked insensible. A marriage and sixteen years of fatherhood trust shattered by just half a dozen ill-timed words! Who would risk that?

    I have been asked: "What should I say to my daughter that she might understand?" "How can I tell my wife, how I feel about Meredith?" "She often lets me see her after school in just her bra and panties...do you think she wants me to touch her?"

    Even such diabolically sad questions as "I know she's only thirteen, but I have these dreadful feelings of wanting to undress her and touch her - am I a complete sicko?" Only other men with similar experiences or feelings can of course understand these situations. In almost every email that touches on this subject, the father's great love and desire for his daughter comes through, rather than blatant lust for the unattainable." Sadly, every case is different and there are no hard and fast ground-rules. Equally, no concise answers.

    Bob though struck a chord with me. With two daughters just a year younger than Jenna and Kylie, his first email echoed his unspoken wish to if not exploit them sexually himself, to see them dressed provocatively (in company with my own girls I must add) and to be then used and abused in time-honored male fashion. Just why the thought of seeing one's teenage daughters dressed sexily and having considerably older men cum all over their dresses and faces is so arousing, I honestly cannot divine - but having been in the very fortunate position at Harper Valley of actually seeing this happen, both with my own daughters and many other young girls, I can only say it is an awesome visual revelation. In Bob's case I suspect, having two fully innocent and supposedly virginal daughters on site - the concept became even hotter.

    In subsequent emails, Bob forwarded to me pictures of the two girls that to be honest, aroused in myself, feelings not wholly at odds with his own. Angela, a most beautiful brunette, whose eyes held the key not only to your inner desires but hers also, stared up at me with an expression of confidence and allure that belied her fifteen years. Superbly groomed and made-up, the silver cross hanging from the tasteful little chain around her neck added to the carefully crafted aura of innocence, while the solitary red shoulder-strap presented a hint of flirtatious tease that I knew only too well, having the privilege of seeing all three of my own girl's shoulder straps lowered to many an indecent level at the behest of numerous male admirers.

    Tiffany meanwhile smiled up at me from her own photographic study. Technically blonde I suppose, something in her expression reminded me of a youthful Priscilla Presley. Equally well-groomed as her younger sister, something about the sixteen-year old schoolgirl infused my deep interest. Dressed all in white, she was a dream and studying the picture for several minutes, I found it impossible to suppress many an inappropriate image of the young girl in far more revealing a pose and in infinitely less dressier a state if the truth be known.

    It was only in a later email when Bob attached a picture of his wife Amy, that the genetic source of the girls' appeal became evident. A stunningly beautiful woman herself, she did not look old enough to have children much past pre-school, let alone teenagers. Let's just say the Gods had favored Bob to a greater degree than most of us!

    It was during one of our bi-monthly cappuccinos together that I happened to mention to Jerry the enigma that was Bob's wife and their two sexy-as-all-hell daughters. I mentioned also the fact that their father had in recent emails expressed a growing desire to see them dressed-up in the full satin mini-dress thing with nylons, high heels...the whole enchilada.

   "Seem to remember you once bringing Jenna and Kylie thus attired many months ago," Jerry reminded me wistfully. Recalling in seminal detail the effect that had had on the general male populace at the time, I was lost in my own retro thought processes for a moment.

   "And what? You're saying this Bob character wants to go down the same road with his two??" His words brought me back to the real-time.

   "Well whether he's actually wanting to do it, or is just a slave to fantasy, I couldn't tell you Jer. Have to get back to you on that one. Plus one other little problem anyway...."

   "Yeah, what's that?" Jerry asked.

   "He's in LA," I grinned.

   "Oh great Noel, well I guess we can strike that one huh?" he muttered forlornly.

    As it happened, Bob made fairly regular contact with me after that and it was during one such email he finally admitted in lustful detail, the depth of his illicit desires. Not only did he crave some seriously perverted moments with all three of my girls, he longed to see both Angela and Tiffany involved in the action up to their (doubtless) cute little nipples. It was his 'greatest fantasy' he reiterated, to see both, decked out in satiny prom-night dresses or similar, their nylons exposed well beyond their garter belts, and in high heels to boot - being taken repeatedly by more than one man and subsequently having their clothes and faces sprayed with cum.

    Not the least constructive of fantasies when you come to think about it!

    Given the detailed published recollections of my own girl's experiences at Harper Valley I was in no position to admonish the man for his innate desires upon my own three. After all, the more I studied his daughter's photographs - the more the overall concept appealed to me.

    Now, I freely admit - not every Harper session was recorded for posterity in "The Complete Harper Valley." One party in fact involved Jenna and Kylie being dressed pretty much as Bob describes - quite obviously a widespread male fantasy, as several fathers had been daring them to attend in evening wear, nylons and heels. It hadn't taken much urging for the girls to comply as I recall. They were so sore that night!

    During the course of subsequent exchanges, I asked Bob not only how "serious" he was about this, but how might such be viewed by both his wife and daughters?

    In his reply he told me (and I had no reason to doubt his integrity here) that of late...his wife had taken to displaying her nylon-clad legs "more than ever," in public, and that he felt the girls were heading down the same track. I asked him what he meant exactly and he replied that they were becoming major sexual teases and that his wife appeared not to mind greatly. As to the question "did he think that all three might perhaps be prepared to 'overstep the line of social acceptance?' Bob simply replied that he "didn't know, but that it was killing him in terms of lethal imagery." That I could well understand!

    Reporting back to Jerry at out next coffee-bar meet, I simply said "I have a gut feeling about this Jer, not only is Bob on the level I'm 100% sure, I really think these girls are up for it....don't ask me why, it's just what their pictures tell me.

   "Even so," he replied, "What's the point? - they're in Los Angeles need I remind you? They may as well be dancing naked in the shopping center there - what can we do about it? Look if you're so keen to get naughty with some young girls in mini-dresses, garter-belts and heels. why not get your three to dress up and bring them back over to the next party. It'd be a sell-out!"

   "I told you Jer," I replied. "We're out and staying out - you all know that!"

   "Then what the hell are we talking about here Noel," he replied.

   "Well I'll tell you Jer," I answered slowly. "I've been speaking to this guy and it's just a sketchy idea at this stage but we could maybe go to LA and meet up with Bob in a decent hotel downtown - like, us having some business to transact, and just see what unravels?"

   "You mean "we" as in you, Kylie and Jenna?" he interjected.

   "I was meaning Natalie too - maybe you and Michelle, Warwick and Brianna? as well.

    He looked at me for a minute. "You've totally flipped - you know that?...You want to spend what, twenty grand between us? to go meet up with some guy in a hotel in LA on the off-chance we can fuck his daughters while he fucks ours? Yeah right! besides, you just told me your three were off-limits big time."

   "This is different," I tried to reason.

   "Do they know anything about this?" he asked

   "Not yet," I told him, "But are you kidding? The chance to go to the US for the weekend - they'd happily dress-up for us."

   "What, and then spread their legs like in the good old days?" he added sarcastically.

   "I'm not asking or expecting any such thing," I replied, already imagining them doing just that.

   "Bet you wouldn't be advocating they go shopping downstairs to fill-in some time either," Jer levelled at me accusingly.

    I knew of course that in the event this could be arranged somehow, the instant they saw Bob and his family they may perhaps twig to the whole deal and realise why Jerry and Warwick had brought their kids too. I didn't figure they would be all that disappointed in me either - a last hurrah as it were. You know, when I think about it - I really need to be locked up.

   "Incidentally Jer," I said, putting my coffee on the table, "Got something you might be interested in."

   "Yeah?...what's that?" he replied.

    I pushed the photos of Angela and Tiffany alongside his ham and cheese melt. He almost choked. "Saints and sinners," he muttered, "That's really his daughters?"

    I pointed out one from the other. "And this is Amy, his wife," I added, pushing the photo of her and the two girls, alongside the other glossies. For a moment he was a study in contemplation.

   "Well lets just say it explains Bob's thinking....and your interest too come to that," Jer commented. I could see his hand was almost shaking. "Jesus mate, they are as hot as your three, how old are they again?"

   "Angela's fifteen and Tiff sixteen," I reiterated. "They look older huh?"

   "I wasn't looking at their faces," he murmured. I could hardly blame him.

    From emailed correspondence between Bob and I in the coming weeks, it was obvious he was keen to pursue the "business meeting" scenario, and that the potential for Jerry and Warwick to accompany us with their daughters also, was causing him to froth at the mouth. Not exactly 'Harper Valley comes to town' but getting on for it!

   "Will they all be dressed up?" he wrote. I knew exactly what he meant.

    Of course the question of his two daughter's involvement, was not one he could answer although God-knows - his preferences were clear enough.

    Having seen Amy, Tiffany and Angela's pictures, Jerry was an instant convert. Warwick simply said he "liked LA anyway!"

    At the point I broke the news to my three girls - adhering of course to the same "business forum" cover-story, they all jumped at the chance. Having additionally one of our major Airlines as an on-going client, I was able to swing a deal for the eight of us at close to half price.

    Two weeks later, Friday afternoon saw our three families checking-in at the United Airlines flight desk before we retired to the refreshments lounge to await our boarding call. Warwick was surprisingly animated, Jer, having trouble keeping his hands off my three, and Michelle and Brianna giggling away like the beautiful little teases they always were. I couldn't help thinking...whatever charms Tiffany and Angela might be able to dredge up collectively, they would be hard-pressed to equal, let alone top, the sheer youthful zest and desirability of the five angels we were packing that day. I mentioned as much to Jer who just nodded.

   "If you have any idea what I would like to do with Natalie, Jenna and Kylie," he began, "It's been so long.....".

   "Say no more Jer," I cut him off...."I'll only have to mutilate you badly if you tell me!" His sudden glance downwards suggested he wasn't too sure about that one.

    One incongruity about flying to LA from Australia that never ceases to amaze - the fact that you get there a few hours before you left Sydney, courtesy of the International date line. Since we were spending just the Friday and Saturday night in LA, we picked up a cheap Voyager on a two-day rental plan....all the girls expecting obviously to be accorded another Anaheim/Disneyland indulgence - especially with Brianna never having been there. Actually, none of us ever grew up if the truth be known. Why else do you imagine I am Peter_Pan?

    Had not the Wilshire Grand its own parking facilities, we would have been driving the length of Wilshire Boulevarde most of Friday night, looking for a space. Pre-booked, we had three adjoining suites, Warwick and Brianna next to us, Jerry and Michelle - further down the hallway.

    First up, I called Bob and told him we were "in residence." He sounded pretty happy and we agreed to all meet later for dinner in the Cardini restaurant down in the hotel lobby. As far as the girls all knew, the meeting was purely in relation to a business venture between Jerry, myself Warwick and our American counterpart.

   "It's kind of a formal restaurant," I told my three (Jerry and Warwick I knew, passing along the same information to their girls) "The guy we've come to meet will be bringing his family he tells me, so dress to impress huh?" They had come prepared and with no expectation I'm sure of anything much beyond just sitting there and looking pretty, they took themselves off to the bathroom to set about creating an impression.

    Forty minutes can make such a difference. Three bubbly young daughters walked into the en-suite - three courtesans walked out! Natalie had on a shimmering gold two-piece who's sole purpose appeared to be that of highlighting the deepest cleavage I had ever known her to put on view, as well as show-casing by virtue of its tightness - her now highly spankable rear-end. The sheerest of nylons disappeared up into the forbidden zone, the whole image being set off by a pair of gold-inlaid high heels with some sort of Roman lacing around the ankles. I was thinking - this has to be every man's fantasy - but then I saw Kylie.

    Dresses like that should be illegal. Blue satin, it wasn't so much tight on her as sprayed-on. Whether actually satin or silk I couldn't at first adjudge, I was too busy looking at other things. Like her older sister, her breasts were defying gravity in whatever technologically advanced bra that was and at the point the dress curved in to her waist, her beautiful figure was accentuated to the max. She had on stockings that if I was not mistaken were held up by a sexy garter-belt she must have brought along for the occasion. The smile she tossed me in passing, acknowledged exactly what I was thinking.

    Jenna's outfit removed what sanity I may still have been clinging to. A satiny two-piece, the top was so low cut at the back you could see the clasp of what was obviously a strapless bra. Almost metallic looking, the camisole-inspired top hung adrift from that micro-mini skirt by almost two inches, rendering unto the male gaze, a ribbon of naked teenage abdomen that could only ever be tempered with a cold shower. She too was wearing sexy stockings and God knows what underneath. The heels just set off the vision perfectly. Bob was risking his health and he didn't even know it yet.

   "Do we look alright dad?" Kylie smiled teasingly.

   I just looked at those three angels, wanting nothing other than to take them all back to bed right then and there and to fuck them senseless by rotation. I knew instinctively it was their combined preference too.

   "You are the three prettiest girls any father ever had for daughters," I told them. "I don't have to say what I feel do I?" They all lowered their gaze - Natalie even blushed slightly.

    Each had the most conservative of make-up on, that simply highlighted their natural beauty - just a touch of mascara, blusher and lip-gloss. I was having chest pains.

   "C'mon kids, lets go downstairs," I said, opening the door and ushering them out - mainly so's I could take in the full arousing aspect of their sexy little bottoms in passing. And how disorientating were those combined perfumes? Just as well the stairs had a hand-rail!

    Just across from reception, Jer and Warwick, both resplendent in dinner-suits, waited outside the doors to the Cardini with Brianna and Michelle in tow, equally as stunning as my three. Seems everyone had opted for mini-dresses designed, if not to kill - to optically cripple and to induce a Hamelin-like fascination. Michelle's hemline for instance was so far above the knee, I had already made a mental note to be under the table when she sat down.

    Having previously made a booking for twelve, our table was already set-up and ready. We took our seats, Jer and I at opposing heads of the table, leaving four spaces in the center - two either side for our visitors. Bob's two daughters I figured would be best served seated between Kylie and Brianna.

    Barely had I mentioned that "Bob and his family will be here shortly," when my eyes lit upon on a small group just that second walking through the door. One of them was Bob I'd presume - I really wasn't looking! Angela, hugging her mother's left arm was all I could concentrate on. In a dress not dissimilar to Natalie's, she carried herself like a model. Made-up professionally by the look of it, all I could think of was, how pretty she must look in just her bra and panties. Tiffany was no less captivating and quite honestly I have to wonder how Bob had managed to rein-in his testosteronic urges these past few years. Amy too was quite as beautiful as in her picture looking still in her mid-twenties. The outfit she had on left little to the imagination. He was right - she quite obviously did enjoy flaunting her charms - those which preceded her especially.

    Introductions involving that many people took a while but let it be said Angela and Tiffany hit it off with our five instantly. Even by the time Bob and Amy had met myself, Jer and Warwick...the seven girls were all chatting together across the table like old friends. Boys, movies, cell-phones - some things never change!

    Bob's face was a study in fully abandoned lust. Not so much a kid in a candy shop as a greyhound brought up by a family of March hares. The poor guy didn't know which way to look. More than once Natalie caught him staring at her and flashed him one of her trademark "I'm a good Catholic girl, but anyone can be persuaded" looks.

    Not that Jerry was in any calmer a state, staring at Tiffany as a lifer might stare at Miss August as she bends over to retrieve an earring while wearing a bikini. That's OK...what I was imagining doing to Angela doesn't bear admission either. In an attempt to distract myself I began talking to Amy but all this achieved was to focus my attentions instead on her "come hither or get lost" cleavage.

    Hell, we were supposed to be there for business - you'd never have guessed it!

    The Cardini is a class act let it be known. Most of the girls settled for the "Sfilatino Al Taccino" - a smoked turkey creation that looked pretty damn good. Jer and I stuck with "Chianina Rustica" a New York cut steak that is so thick it comes with a chain-saw. Amy and Warwick gambled on the Monterey Chicken while Bob slummed it with the Cardini burger which if marketed properly would put McDonalds out of business overnight.

    Neither Bob or Amy seemed to be watching their children's alcoholic intake and since no-one asked for ID they and ours partook of a cruiser each and God knows how much champagne...there were a hell of a lot of empty bottles as I recall.

    How anyone managed dessert I don't know, but after the demise of the Grand Marnier souffle, various bowls of sorbet, sodas and coffees, everyone was running on a full tank.

    Under the pretext then of really having to discuss business, it was suggested Amy and the seven girls retire to our suite for a nightcap, whatever, and wait for us to come up later. With two King size double beds, one single, lounges, chairs and an enormous table - there was more than enough space for them to relax.

**

   "I can't believe those daughters of yours," Bob said, putting his coffee cup down and missing the saucer by a good few inches. "For Chrissakes guys, I can only imagine what it was like at the parties - your three Noel are unbelievable. That middle one....what's her name? Kylie? Jeez, I'm sorry for saying this - its just the champagne talking....but even reading all that stuff you wrote that she and her sisters did - seeing her sitting there just made me..."

   "Yeah, it's OK Bob," I cut him off. "You wouldn't want to know my thoughts either, staring at your two."

   "Would you really like to fuck them? he semi slurred. Several heads turned around slightly from neighboring tables.

   "Well I can't speak for Noel," Warwick announced suddenly, "But I can tell you this - if your two ever came to one of our parties - they would be coming home pretty sore."

    Bob was silent for a moment. "You all know I want to see them fucked don't you?" he drawled.

   "Amy too?" put in Jerry hopefully.

   "Sure," Bob answered...."Think its gonna happen?"

   "Let's go upstairs and find out," Warwick smiled finishing his own short black.

   "Just hold on a moment," I interjected. "We're supposed to be having a business meeting here. We can't just go up there after five minutes and expect no-one to be suspicious. As far as I know, none of them....your wife included Bob, have any idea why we brought them all here....right?"

   "I guess not he said," Jer was nodding wisely I noticed.

   "He's right," he said, "Last thing we want to do is to alert any of them that we have plans afoot."

    And thus we did the worst possible thing in ordering another round of drinks. Subsequently, there was a truck-load of discussion but it sure as Hell wasn't business.

    By my fifth JD and ice, I was certainly happily disposed towards life let's say. I can't speak for the others but I figure it would not be an inaccurism to describe their condition as er, 'needful?'

    Jer stumbled twice between the checkout counter and the elevator- and they're directly opposite one another. Jenna opened the door to our suite.

   "Oh Hello dad," she smiled "Finished your meeting?" She glanced at the other three and surely could not fail to have noticed Bob stripping her with his eyes....nothing she hasn't seen a hundred times before of course.

   "Three of them," Bob muttered under his breath as we entered the room..."God and I thought I had problems with just my two!"

    Inside another shock awaited. The table over near the TV contained now a veritable jumble of empty glasses and vodka-cruiser bottles. There appeared to be also more than the usual amount of giggling. Brianna, Kylie and Tiffany were spread comfortably over one of the King-size beds, Natalie and Amy were seated over by the window - both drinking some beverage that would appear to have originated from Room Service and enjoying each other's company, to judge by the occasional laughter and Amy's propensity to touch Natalie's arm when making a point about something.

    Angela, Jenna and Michelle had commandeered the other double bed and were equally engrossed in some animated discussion. The good news is that whether any of them knew it or not, more than a hint of sexy panties was visible - in Tiffany's case, some of her garter-belt as well. Pretty much all their skirts and dresses had ridden up their owner's thighs to a degree and it would have taken decidedly more will-power than the four of us men had on site, to overlook the smorgasbord of temptation in various coronary-inducing poses around the room.

   Bob's none too quiet "Jesus Christ" as he looked around the suite said it all!

    Figuring to take the softest option on offer, I simply drew a chair up beside Natalie, asked if I could refresh either her or Amy's drink - that being merely an excuse to pour myself another one.

    Bob and Jerry took themselves off to the far side of the room, Bob none too surprisingly sat himself down near Kylie while Jer seated himself way nearer Tiffany than he need. Judging by Tiff's "you gotta be kidding" glance in his direction, I wouldn't say he made that great a first-up impression. Brianna though flashed him a genuinely warm smile and moved in a little closer.

    Warwick then sidled over to the other bed and no sooner had he sat down there than Michelle cuddled his arm and nestled right up close and personal. His expression suggested he wished it had been Jenna!

   "You two know each other well?" Angela asked in all innocence. Michelle giggled, as did Jenna of course.

   "Oh yeah...really well," Michelle told her, "He's my father's best friend, along with Mr Baker over there. We all see heaps of each other."

   "Our dad doesn't have that many friends," I heard Angela drawl in her rather attractive Cali accent. "Such a shame," she giggled like the sexy little fifteen year old she is.

    Closer to home, I was finding Amy a major distraction. She certainly had all the flirtatious moves down pat - eye flutters, crossing and uncrossing of the legs for effect. Not exactly the Sharon Stone/Basic Instinct shuffle but enough to let me know her nylons only reached up a finite way and that beyond that, lay areas one might find very interesting. I was certainly interested.

    More than once I recall wondering if she had a thing for girls. Just the way she would rest her hand on Natalie's thigh occasionally or the hot smiles she seemed to be giving her. I could have been wrong...and certainly Nat didn't seem to notice anything unusual. How was I ever going to get my hands in this woman's panties, never mind anything else.

    Natalie's sudden "Oh my gosh dad," followed by her hand over her mouth, more to limit her giggles than anything else, had me turn my head sharply.

    God knows how Kylie had gotten sucked in to the action - last I saw, Jerry was snuggling up to Brianna, but unless my eyes deceived me, Jer was planting a couple of smoochies on Kylie's arm and shoulders. Making little attempt to escape her fate, she was giggling along with Brianna. Tiffany's face was priceless.

   "Mr Clarke" she spluttered, "Are you crazy? Her father's just over there talking with my mom

   "I don't think she minds too much," I heard Jer reply. "Besides Tiffany, we often do this - you should try it!"

    So saying, he kissed Kylie flush on the lips. Tiffany just sat there staring. She also appeared to be inching her way towards Brianna - either for moral support or to get a better view of proceedings. I couldn't tell which.

   "You don't mind your friend kissing your daughter?" Amy asked incredulously.

   "Not really up to me to mind is it?" I replied. "Kylie's old enough to know who she wants to kiss her and who she doesn't. Besides," I held my glass up, "alcohol does bring out the uninhibited in us doesn't it?"

    Amy looked as shocked as her daughter momentarily but this changed to outright confusion as she happened to glance to her left and saw her husband not only holding Brianna's hand, but beginning to kiss her softly. Not a metre away on the bed, Tiffany's hand went to her mouth. "Dad," she cried out, "What's happening here?"

    Amy quite obviously about to call her attorney with instructions to start divorce proceedings, was halfway out of her seat. Taking her arm I restrained her.

   "Its just the bourbon reacting Amy, he doesn't mean anything by it - trust me." I said.

    Having had more than her share herself, she half fell back into the chair. I passed her her drink, figuring that the more she had right now the better she might handle whatever was to come. To my right, Natalie was emptying her glass too and if I didn't know better, she was looking a little the worse for wear herself. I tossed her a smile and turned back to Amy.

   "I can't believe this," she was murmuring, watching now as Bob's hands were inching up to within centimeters of the underside of Brianna's rather seductive breasts, encased as they were in that silky little top that invited one to slip a hand down where they shouldn't. Brianna was happy to let the man kiss her and being forced ever further back on to the coverlet, that dress was no longer making any pretence at decency. Her garter belt was plainly visible as was a hint of those delicately laced panties. Wasting no time, Bob slipped a hand up between her legs and from what I could see, was beginning to rub her softly right at the apex of those slim nylon-clad legs.

    Tiffany looked towards her mom in desperation and at the point Jerry slid his hand down Kylie's top, right alongside her, openly feeling her up while kissing her passionately, I could feel the mood of the room subtly changing. No one could watch such intimacies without a degree of involvement.

    From Tiffany's viewpoint it wasn't even a man's influence that brought her undone - simply Kylie taking a hold of her hand as she permitted Jerry free license to caress her body curves. Even as Amy's hand flew to her mouth in shock, Tiff allowed herself to be drawn up between Jer and Kylie, and Jerry's first kiss of her admittedly highly desirable lips, meant there was no going back - for any of them.

    Bob's paedophilic indulgence with Brianna wasn't so committed that he failed to see what was happening to Tiffany and if that wasn't a wicked smile escaped his lips right at that moment, then I'm a poor judge of paternal appreciation.

    On bed number two, Warwick had Michelle on her back and was beginning to caress her breasts rather lewdly, covered up of course, as they still were. Following her sister's lead, Jenna had taken a hold of Angela's hand and despite the fifteen year old's understandably shocked condition I was almost certain the carnal activities being transacted virtually alongside them, had her attention fully riveted.

   "Kiss her dad," Natalie giggled as she got up, intent it would seem on joining her younger sister and Angela. I looked across at Amy who was just glancing wide-eyed around the room muttering almost incoherently, "This can't be happening - they're all just young schoolgirls."

   "Well you're not," I suggested, patting my lap and figuring "What the hell, nothing to lose here."

    In retrospect, I have no doubt it was the alcohol that was making all the decisions at this stage. Just how much the girls had consumed was an unknown quantity but this, combined with their sexy attire had to be a factor in their rapidly lowering inhibitions. For my three of course, it was a chance to re-live some wickedly fun times and they weren't about to bypass the opportunity. From Angela and Tiffany's viewpoint - how do you think they felt seeing girls practically their own age being felt up by adult men just an arms-length away? School was definitely in!

    Amy must have figured it was a case of que sera sera too, as she showed little in the way of hesitation before seating her well sculptured rear down in my lap. I had suddenly the most kissable of moist lips but centimetres from my own. She was no amateur.

    Fully willing to submit to the wandering hands routine, I can only say that seeing that which I could, down her generously curved cleavage was nothing to the sensations afforded by gently fondling those wonderful orbs.

   "OMG mom," issued from young Angela's lips as she noticed her mother's submissive repose. At the point however Warwick then groped her own breasts while still attending to something of interest well up beneath Michelle's crumpled skirt, she had other things on her mind. Amy was no longer watching anyone. Merely wanting to be kissed now and judging by her legs - inching apart by the minute - certainly a candidate for some upskirt therapy.

    In between some dexterous manipulation of Amy's remarkably skimpy little knickers, that itself was causing my newly come-by friend to moan audibly, I could see Bob having the time of his life with Kylie now. Her blue satin dress pushed right up to the waist, one could only make the comment that her fully exposed garter-belt, slender stockinged legs with one heel off, the other dangling from her foot and open soft-skinned thighs, must inevitably invite the worst of male attention. Even Jer turned his attentions from the front of Brianna's wholly visible panties to mutter his encouragement.

    Still clinging on to Kylie's right hand, Tiffany watched her father's indecent handling of her new friend, barely able to credit what she was seeing, let alone knowing what to make of the indiscriminate kisses she was receiving herself from Jerry. She was even more disorientated when Natalie seated herself beside her on the bed and replaced Kylie's hand with her own, allowing her sister to now pay full attention to what Tiffany's father was doing to her.

    It took but the judicious slipping of two fingers beneath Amy's panties to discover the wetness on site. Sprawled inelegantly across me now, I allowed myself the luxury of feeling up her sexy little bottom as with my free hand, I unzipped myself. Hardly any point playing the coy guest any longer. We both wanted the same thing.

    Aware of course that her breasts were highly visible down her top. Amy wriggled them for effect as I kissed her. She was, if not a pole-cat on heat, then a lioness ready for all-comers. I had no need to position myself, she did it for me, and encouraging me to slip her panties down, she guided my erection to where it definitely wanted to be. Entering her with consummate ease she gasped as I pushed hard up into her. This was way better than even a JD and ice!

    Following the progress of the other players around the room was getting more difficult.

    Strangely, rather than making any attempt to fuck Kylie for the moment, Bob had somehow persuaded her to wank him instead. He really did want to see a young girl in her prom dress, splattered with cum I realised. He was to get his wish. Not a minute later - mind you Kylie is no slacker when it comes to hand-jobs - he let out a highly vocal "Oh God" as he spurted a heap of sticky white stuff right across her panties, the tops of her stockings, the front of her dress, even managing to catch her cheeks with a few wayward spurts. The expression on Tiffany's face was of total disbelief, but I could hardly fail to notice her hand inching its way beneath the hemline of that sexy little dress as Jer managed to slip his erection deep into Brianna's pussy, that she was thoughtfully presenting as a viable option, holding her panties aside as she was at that moment.

    Seeing once again, my own daughter on the receiving end of a stream of hot cum, I was reminded of the best of those Harper nights and relinquished forthwith a somewhat hot stream myself - exactly where Amy had planned. We didn't waste any on her panties however - all was stacked neatly deep inside her vaginal storehouse. I felt her beginning to purr.

    Now don't think that Warwick was reading a comic book all this time either. Having moved on from Michelle....and quite what he had done with her I don't know, although I did notice a pair of silky little blue undies on the carper that definitely weren't Jenna's....he now had Angela and Jenna flat on their backs (still holding hands) while he knelt between them.

    I could see Angela crying out "No, No..." as he began pushing both hers and Jenna's skirt up. As both their garter-belts were exposed, Angela half-heartedly pushed his hand away but was persuaded by Jenna to just lie there and accept her fate. The impending visual indecencies were I realised, having a most constructive effect on my own erection that was re-solidifying by the second - much to Amy's pleasure it must be admitted. Lying still face down on me, she was unable to observe her two daughters' somewhat precarious situation, which may have been just as well.

    Bob? You couldn't fault his enthusiasm either. Not content with my daughter's hand in his pants, he was paying Natalie the kind of attention she had been weaned off for several months. With his hand well up under her dress now, he was applying pressure to a most indecent spot, to judge by her enforced wriggling. She and Kylie exchanged words of some kind but I couldn't make out what they were. Tiffany's "Oh my God dad." however was fully audible - wished I could have seen the fun her hand was having somewhere up between those slim and stockinged legs.

    Although my view was sometimes stifled by Amy's mass of hair obscuring proceedings, I did notice Warwick finally getting either hand well inside both Jenna and Angela's silky knickers which brought soft moans from both girls. Seeing her younger sister's plight, Tiffany called out "Ohh Angela" but was unable to contribute further to the conversation as Jerry, evidently going for broke, had disentangled himself from between Brianna's legs and was now embarking on a program to apply evidently some selfless therapy to the teenager's well defined breasts.

    Watching Tiffany's aggravated assault, Bob was one happy man. "Pull her panties down Jerry," he vocalised clearly, while pursuing the exact same course with my eldest daughter, who clearly was putting up no resistance to having her own undies tugged down....no easy chore when one has to contend with a garter belt. Not wishing to be excluded from the communal entertainment underway, I noticed Michelle beginning to kiss Jenna now, slipping her hand down my daughter's front and fondling her breasts even as Warwick attended now to her lower extremities, maintaining a similar investigation of Angela's still concealed pussy.

    It was too much for me. Having only to get Amy to arch her hips marginally, I gained re-entry in seconds and this took care of our joint concentration.

   "Fuck me," she all but whimpered, kissing me passionately, whilst wriggling her bottom to gain maximum penetrative pleasure. Actually, the pleasure was all mine, now I think about it. Exactly what satisfaction Bob was accruing from seeing his wife fucked in the position she was, I can't say. I suspect he was concentrating more on his daughter's immediate defilement and Natalie's skimpy white-lace knickers that he was so busily extricating.

    Amy was fully given-over to uninhibited indulgence that might have drawn attention to herself had not the other girls' vocalised pleasures been such an aural distraction.

    Experiencing now considerable frustration in finding those garter belts such an impediment to removing the girl's panties, Warwick was forced to enlist Jenna's help, who by deft unhooking of certain key clasps with her free right hand, paved the way for Warwick's progress. Although on her back still, I could see Angela gasp as my youngest daughter's panties made their way below her knees - exposing to all her small triangle of dark brown curls - one that Warwick's fingers were now lost in, as he sought out the real prize.

     Perhaps the sight of her friends now fully exposed and keenly felt-up pussy triggered the end of her part-time resistance, but Angela I could see was now unhooking her own garter belt and allowing Warwick to tug down her panties as well. I couldn't begin to impart to you just how hot those kids looked with their skirts up around their hips, breasts straining against the clingy evening-wear as Warwick took full advantage of the parted Red Sea - fingering both girls now as they wriggled and gasped in pleasured delight. Inclining his head towards Angela, I noticed her slip an arm around his neck, allowing him to kiss her passionately. Alternating then her lips with Jenna's, he had both girls crying out in needful complicity within minutes.

    Over on the Western Front, Jerry was in no mood to take no for an answer and despite Tiffany's brave, though some might say half-hearted struggles to maintain her fully dressed state, she was fighting a losing battle. Groping her youthful breasts at will, Jer not only had her skirt so high, those silky little knickers were full exposed, he was half way to getting them off her, having either navigated somehow, her garter belt, or by simply ripping his way south. Brute force is often a most successful option faced with such constraints. Whatever he had done, the insides of her thighs now contrasted whitely with those slim stockinged legs that kicked and wriggled in a flurry of girlish resistance.

    As Bob finally rid Natalie of her panties, exposing her charms to one and all - he grinned his undeniable approval at his eldest daughter's on-going molestation. "For God's sake fuck her Jerry," he drooled.

    Pretty sure that's what Jerry had planned as he appeared right then to be re-positioning himself for a full frontal challenge. Tiffany was holding him at arms length, probably unaware that her left breast was now three-quarters free of whatever sexy little bra it was she had on. Luckily, from a male viewpoint, her nipple was a part of the exposed section and it looked to me one healthily aroused little nipple at that.

    My all-up view was greatly enhanced at that moment as, having completed another procreative cycle within Amy's delightfully compliant little pussy, she had taken herself off to the washroom for a make-over - least until she saw Tiffany's impending rape which caused her to sink to the floor hand to mouth...if not sobbing, then in the first stages of severe shock.

    Despite having Warwick's penetrative fingers well up inside their own pussies, performing unspeakably naughty things, Angela and Jenna were both angling glances at the other bed, spellbound in regard to Jerry's progress with Tiffany as vocally encouraged by the girl's father.

    Having reached the business end of his fumblings, Jerry was in the process of aligning his tool-of-trade with Tiffany's highly arousing slit when, she cast one last despairing look at her father, plainly asking the question "Are you going to let him rape me daddy?"

    Given that Bob himself had my daughter's legs spread to the max and was enjoying the sensation afforded the back of his hand by her stockinged legs, he could hardly be seen as an unbiased third party so far as Tiffany was concerned. The fact is, he thrust into Natalie at precisely the same moment that Jerry penetrated Tiffany's personal airspace with an ease that would suggest her virginity had caught the early train.

    Hard to know who to watch? With Natalie crying out in pleasure, Tiffany crying out in fake distress and Angela and Jenna thrusting their hips up to make it easier on Warwick's fingers - I could but thank the Gods of erotic dysfunctionality for this latest visual treat. Kylie and Brianna even were making the most of their time together I noticed. Just slightly away to the left of Bob, they sat alongside one another, riveted by the sight of Bob's cock penetrating Natalie's pussy with rhythmic precision. If then seeing Brianna's hand slipping its determined way up beneath Kylie's hemline en-route to her probably drenched pussy wasn't an added attraction par excellence, then I don't know what is.

    Bob was deliriously happy. Openly fucking Natalie now like a deranged manikin, observing Jerry's debauched handling...make that aggravated penetration, of his eldest daughter, not a nipple's reach away, must surely have been at the very apex of his wildest fantasies. Sighs, moans and cries of passion rent the air as everyone's daughter began to suffer various degrees of sexual meltdown.

    Amy I noted was still the far side of the room on her knees and more likely than not, unaware she had one hand up beneath her skirt, idly frigging herself senseless as she watched her two girls cross the line from middle-class innocence to uptown whore with little or no coercion. Angela especially, was bucking wildly beneath Warwick's digital caresses while Jenna had spread her legs so wide, one was draped lewdly across Angela's thigh.

    I could no longer remain a passive observer.

    Tiffany was a sight close to, not just on account of Jerry spurting at that moment, his entire procreative wad deep inside her, but by virtue of the fact, her sexy little breasts were now almost adrift from her bra and were jiggling in time to Jerry's thrusts. She barely even noticed when Bob leaned across Natalie's used and abused body, to fondle her himself once or twice.

   "You fuck her now Noel - please," he almost whimpered as he saw me approach. Tiffany was almost out to it - which suited my needs admirably I have to say. She made no attempt to close up her legs as I took Jerry's place, who quite the worse for wear, sank down on the far-side edge of the bed

   "You OK sweetheart," I muttered to Natalie who just gave me the biggest smile as she clung now to Bob, arching her hips up to milk the last of the storehouse. Her pussy glistened and her breasts straining to break free of their (probably unwanted) restraint.

    Tiffany's eyes opened as I manoeuvered myself between her slim legs. Her expression, somewhat one of resigned acceptance, yet maintaining also a glint of flirtatious tease, drew me to her. I kissed her softly and that really changed the playing field. Lips like that you don't taste every day - and I wanted to taste more. She returned fire with fire and slipping into her effortlessly, a new-found passion took care of basics while I worked both her breasts free of her top, fully exposing those pretty brown nipples that pleaded to be suckled. Not that easy to do while you are gratuitously fucking their owner, but I managed nevertheless.

    Bob meanwhile had moved-on from Natalie and even as I pumped Tiffany's hot little pussy full of more naughty stuff, I saw him take up residence alongside Warwick across the room, before pairing off - him with Jenna and Warwick with his youngest daughter, both of which they then proceeded to fuck openly. Angela was crying out "Noooo" but her body language was anything but confrontational and within seconds her legs were as spread as Jenna's, her arms around Warwick's neck tightening their grip to ensure he was going nowhere.

    I didn't even notice Amy settling herself alongside me on the bed. Emotions of both guilt and sympathy washed over me as I watched her tenderly take a hold of her daughter's hand even as I was pumping the remnants of whatever limited semen I had left. into Tiffany's spread and well-worn little slit. Somehow it just made it all the hotter. I noticed Amy looking at her daughter's exposed breasts, her clothing in total disarray and the spots of cum that adorned her inner thighs. The smile she gave her daughter at that second was an indefinable moment of tensionable release.

   "Can we?" came the soft familiar voice from behind me. I let go of Tiffany's waist Turning my head, everyone else in the room was consigned to ancient history. My beautiful Kylie knelt there, her arms held out to me. There never was anyone else really, I knew that now! Pulling her to me, I kissed her and all those months of abstinence faded into the ether. I suppose I took her panties off but I don't remember. Lying back for me and opening up like the most beautiful rose in the early morning sun, I took her...transported her to a place only she and I can ever visit. Her scent intoxicated me and the softness of her lips and breasts befuddled the few senses left operational. I was aware of her beginning to whimper and realised I was entering her with passionate intent. I knew we had done this down through the ages and that we are destined to play the same role - perhaps in bodies of alternate sexes - for maybe all time. It won't be long enough!

    I would have had left insufficient stocks of cum to impregnate a hamster but it didn't matter. Just being there was everything. Kylie knew that and simply smiled up at me as she felt me reach my plateau letting me know with her eyes that she had reached hers too. I lay with her afterwards, just brushing her hair out of her pretty eyes and telling her how much I loved her. As always, she made me feel the adventurous schoolboy rather than the assured father. Let it remain thus

    Bob meanwhile was indulging his carnality with my youngest daughter....the last technically to get herself fucked this day. Having obviously run the gamut of his "cum-all-over-their-evening-dresses" fantasy, he had managed to strip Jenna somehow. She was in fact the only girl totally naked at this point - and how hot did she look? Her well-furred little pussy spread wide, encouraging him to thrust in to depths unknown, she was moaning audibly and more than happy to have him rubbing her breasts and pulling hard on her nipples even as he gave it to her big time. As their build-up neared the final frontier, Jenna was thrusting her own hips up like a total slut on heat - that actually is exactly what she was at that precise moment, and everyone watching knew it.

    Right alongside her, Young Angela was taking a shellacking from Warwick, much to Bob's undeniable pleasure at witnessing so close at hand, his youngest daughter's repeated penetration. "That's the way Warwick," he managed to get out between his own thrusts, "fuck her sexy little brains out."

    I don't think I have ever seen two girls taken further down the path of sexual fulfilment - two men either, come to that. The four of them were not far off needing life-support moments later. Two filled to the brim, the others butt empty. I've always wondered if Angela was a virgin! The silent tears running down Amy's cheek might suggest she had been.

    Jer, evidently with still some gas in the tank, had Brianna now giggling furiously as he tugged her panties well down past her knees. I figured it was time to have a look at the bigger picture.

   "Guys, Guys," I called out, eyeing off Jer's progress with his best friend's daughter. He relaxed his grip on the waistband of Brianna's hot little knickers allowing her to gratefully tug them straight back up - still giggling loudly it should be noted. I had now everyone's attention.

    "Just a thought I'm having people," I said. "All of us - you two especially," I added, making eye contact with Bob and Amy, "have had way too much drink to even think of driving. What say the four of you bed down with us for the night...we got more than enough space in the three suites if we use the spare trundle beds. I'm sure the girls don't mind snuggling up." That brought both gasps and giggles.

    Bob looked across at his wife. "Makes sense honey," He said or rather ....slurred.

    Amy looked at him then at her two daughters, both of whom lay sprawled and very sated on their respective beds.

   "I guess that's OK with me," she answered finally. "Not going to make much difference to anything now is it?" she added almost petulantly.

   "OK, that's settled," I replied. "Now let's figure out who goes where?"

    Well if that wasn't the cue for verbal warfare, I don't know what was. No-one could decide or agree on anything. Everyone wanted to be with someone that another party figured was their existing right already. It ended up me tossing a coin to sort out the Montagues and Capulets.

    The upshot was that Tiffany, Jerry, Jenna and Brianna were accorded the next-door suite, whilst myself, Angela, Amy and Michelle remained in our own room, with Bob, Warwick Natalie and Kylie bunkered up in the third suite. Just one ground rule! No discussions or disclosures the next morning. Whatever was to transpire, if anything...to stay personal and private.

    The other eight transients, including my three misfits, stumbled out of the room with their respective room-mates, in varying degrees of sobriety, having first made themselves decent (well from a dress-sense at least) The other three men were about to die a horribly unnatural death I kept thinking.

    Clearing up the room first which took a while, given the empty plates, bottles and glasses that littered the place, we simply took a double bed each. Michelle had her dress off and was snuggled up beside me in seconds. Amy and her daughter were still in the washroom attending to make-up removal. I already had Michelle's bra off and was gently fondling her exquisitely sexy little breasts when the other two emerged in some erotically charged night-wear and crawled into their own bed. The only two members of the same family together I imagine. Under normal circumstances I would have been praying for an invitation, but given the imminency of my beautiful young companion, my mind was in lock-down mode.

   "Good night Noel," they both chirped. "Night girls," I replied, my mind wholly engrossed with the softness beneath my hands right that second. "Sleep well," I added, wondering just who was going to be doing too much of that this night.

   "I've soo missed you," Michelle whispered. It didn't call for an answer, simply a kiss - a long and passionate one. She melted beside me. Drawing down her panties, she wriggled out of them and fully naked now, manoeuvered herself atop me, spreading her legs wide so that my entire reproductive system was trapped beneath her warm and protective pussy.

   "You have my full attention sweetheart," I muttered softly, nuzzling her neck and feeling her breasts making delightful contact with my chest. Despite the love I held for my own three and Larissa too, Michelle had always held a special place in my heart and this was the night I wanted to share that niche with her to the full. My hands smoothed over her curvy little bottom as I kissed her lips, pouring out the nonsensical drivel that one does at such times, re-enacting the male courtship ritual that has thus far ensured the survival of the species. Slipping into her, I felt her gasp then settle into fully receptive mode as her legs clamped my hips either side completely submissive now and needing only for me to complete the act that her sex needed.

    It was as it eventuated, quite unlike previous copulatory efforts - neither rushed or physically exacting. For the longest time, I simply remained inside that wonderfully receptive little cavern, penetrating her slowly and feeling with extended clarity, that which I was doing to her. Whispering words of a language they don't offer as an elective in year nine, I thrust up into her with such delicate precision, I could feel her vagina's reaction to each and every incursion. Some may have noted over the years, that gradual yet purposeful penetration, builds to a far greater plateau than the "slam-bang-thank-you-ma'am" technique employed by the novice lover as well as the unthinking and unimaginative male partner.

    Michelle's body tensed momentarily and she clung to me in ecstasy. I felt her own orgasm taking her out - venting its pleasure in an outward spiral as I came myself. Forget the quantity - this was sheer quality!

    Kissing her, I eased her alongside me, put an arm around her and hugged her to me. She was asleep in seconds.

    The room should have been enveloped in silence. It was for a while and then on the borderline of my REM stage I heard a sound and it was definitely not mice.

    The softest little gasp, bodies stirring slightly and then the merest wisp of muted dialog. "Ohh mom, yessss..that is soo nice!"

    God had orchestrated the final touch for me - mother and daughter discovering the joys of sensual togetherness. Was this a first? Was incest a thing of regularity in Bob's household after all?...did it matter???

    As if in answer, I heard Angela giggle softly... "Not too hard mom, Noel's going to hear. Ohhh, wish we could have done this before..."

    Given the images such whisperings were conjuring up, I was finding it very hard to drop off. Was three-quarters through counting my third flock when I was suddenly aware of someone at my side gently tugging my arm.

   "I just can't get to sleep - can we talk for a bit?"

   "Sure Amy," I said, momentarily angered at losing count of my wayward woollies, "Lets do it in comfort though. We're never gonna wake this one up."

    So saying, I gently eased Michelle's warm curves over further and made room for my newly come-by guest.

   "She's a very pretty girl isn't she?" Amy whispered, clambering beneath the covers.

   "You have no idea." I was tempted to say, but simply mumbled "Uh huh!" instead.

    Somewhat of a pained silence ensued. "I guess you heard us just now?" she asked, inclining her head towards the far side of the room.

   "Well now Amy," I replied "I'd be lying if I didn't hear the odd er, sentence. Speaking of very pretty girls though, your daughters both, fall effortlessly into that category I'm thinking."

   "Thank you," she murmured politely. A rather delicate arm had lain itself against my chest meanwhile. I wasn't complaining.

   "Amy," I whispered, "None of my business I realise, but have you and Angela....well I guess Tiffany as well... ever - you know, done stuff before?"

    She almost giggled. "I swear Noel...we never have. I don't know what happened between the two of us just now...it just kinda seemed like the thing to do. She was simply lying up against me and my fingers made like they had a will of their own. Next thing Angela had her hands in my panties and we sorta lost it." She paused for a moment. "You and your second eldest daughter...Kylie isn't it? You guys have done it together before haven't you?"

   "Yeah," I replied, "Was it that obvious?"

    Then, before further conversation could resume, I found Amy's lips but centimetres from my own. It was no longer time for 'true confessions," but rather a double period of Sex-Ed.

    That transparent little nightdress was an early casualty followed by the skimpiest bra I ever had the pleasure to remove from a panting female. Tugging her knickers down, stripped away that last vestige of modesty leaving little more than one-fifteen pounds of rampantly sexy womanhood astride me and ready for whatever I was of a mind to dish out.

    Must have been the alcohol still resident in our respective blood-streams but no sooner had I fingered her to orgasmic solace than Amy whispered "Can we have a little fun with Michelle you think?" Not even under threat of torture dare I ever admit my own thoughts had been embracing a remarkably similar concept.

    Still out to it amazingly, I was able to manouever her slim form between us.

   "Oh wow, she's naked, you evil man" Amy giggled, "Was she fun?"

   "Depends on your idea of 'fun' Amy," I answered, "But in the fully accepted sense of the word, I'd have to say, yes she was. I've always had a soft spot for Michelle - such a cutie!"

   "I'll say." Amy murmured, "sexy little breasts too" she giggled. It was only then that I could make out in the gloom, Amy's hands cupping and lightly fondling Michelle's delicate little mounds. I was right - this woman definitely liked girls!

    Now call me perverted in the extreme, but even given the sexual excesses of Harper Valley, nothing in my short-term memory came close, in terms of an arousal factor at least, to having that sexy little daughter of Jerry's lying between us totally naked and open for the two of us to carnally abuse at our leisure - and don't assume either, that Amy took the high road whilst I restricted myself to the low road.

    Both of us took escalating pleasure in fingering her unprotected slit whilst we fondled both breasts, either independently or together. Amy, it should be recorded for posterity, was taking the greatest delight in sucking Michelle's right nipple additionally, even as her fingers delved deeper still between the girl's parted legs.

    That Michelle would wake up sooner or later was hardly in dispute. More than likely her own semi-conscious moans of pleasure were partly responsible for the event.

   "W-w-what are you doing?" she mumbled, hips still in pleasurable transit.

   "Well sweetie," I whispered, "It's like this. Amy sleep-walks and I just woke up as she was climbing into my bed. Since she was here and feeling....oh Hell - you know how girl's feel Michelle - we figured you wouldn't mind too much if she had a little play. I was just keeping her company.

   "You are such a liar Noel," she giggled and put an arm up to draw me down to her level - her kissable level that is!

    This time I was fully devoid of any and all restraint.

   "Fuck her Noel," Amy whispered to me, "Please - I want to feel her up while you're fucking her hard."

    Have I ever been one to let down a member of the female persuasion?

    And thus it was, I took her down Missionary lane, probably as hard as ever I have penetrated anyone in living memory. Michelle was literally crying out in passion - what Amy was doing to her I have no idea, but whatever it was, her breathing was tending towards the erratic too.

    Even as I completed my tour of duty with the now majorly depleted stocks such that I possessed, cruelly distracting images of both Kylie and Natalie alternately, being taken much the same way as they lay naked and vulnerable side by side, between Bob and Warwick in that far suite, invaded my twisted thoughts. Not to mention what Jerry might - certainly would be doing to Jenna, just next door.

    Hell is way too good for me - I realise this!

    Even the greatest sexual opportunity is without value when the body is no longer willing and even with the permutations possible should Angela be awakened in the bed opposite....I had reached the end of the line - physically, emotionally and probably creatively too.

    Of course I dismissed no-one from that bed of dreams, simply kissing both girls and thanking them for a night I neither deserved or could ever hope to equal. The shutters came down with unheralded momentum.

    What, if anything, the two of them transacted in terms of same-sex pleasures from that point onwards, I can never know and thus - neither can you!

    Not a lot more to add. We certainly could have used the "boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B" next morning as it was heading up for eleven am. before anyone stirred - and even that was only aided and abetted by the hotel floor maids knocking on the doors to change the linen.

    Tellingly, my three all made their return to our suite flushed and giggly a little later. Natalie was lamenting her inability to walk that well, while Kylie was cupping her pussy gingerly as she entered the room. "I'm sooo sore dad," she wailed. I didn't ask the identity of the main culprit. Besides, my suspicions were pretty much proven when I caught sight of Bob soon afterwards, trying to negotiate the stairs to the dining area with quite some discomfort.

    Jenna handled her infirmities the best of the three. Maybe being the youngest, she retains the greatest recuperative powers. The only clue as to her overnight misdemeanors was at the point of squeezing through a half open door, and brushing up against Angela - she appeared to wince and clutch her breasts protectively.

   "Bit sore there are we darling?" I asked in passing. She stuck her tongue out at me.

    Ahead of the drive to Anaheim, we farewelled Bob and his family, thanking them for a wonderful time and asking with no expectation of any acquiescence, whether or not they could ever see themselves coming to Sydney Australia?

   "Oh can we dad, can we??" Tiffany and Angela chorused?

    Who'd believe it? The re-match has been tentatively set down for the 2006/2007 Christmas holidays and we are talking the ultimate tag-team event here!

(c) Peter_Pan 2006

Extracted from "Harper Valley: A Postscript"  2006 Lulu Publishing Inc. Morrisville NC    http://www.lulu.com/content/402381

Visit">http://www.lulu.com/content/402381">http://www.lulu.com/content/402381

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  Even as Mark flung wide the driver’s side door, keen you might say, to negotiate some quality time with the young auburn-haired temptress so indelicately sprawled across his two friends in the rear, Julian was heard to mutter, “Let’s take her upstairs guys.”

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   You couldn’t fault his enthusiasm!

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   Needing to maintain at least some degree of perceived modesty as Mark opened the rear door, Kirsty eased herself off the men’s laps, tugging her panties back up as she did so. There was little she could do however to prevent both John and Charles openly groping her breasts as her rear-end exited the car with some hands-on assistance from Mark.Â

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  “C’mon, behave guys,” she giggled, observing as she spoke, that both men were sporting sub-zip erections of the spectacular kind. A hot flush coursed through her body as she realized the potential here for some seriously inappropriate sexual activity in terms of her own under-age bodily involvement. Plan B had never been without substantial risk she knew. Â

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   Attempting to slip his hands down the rear of her panties as she straightened-up, caused her to spin around once more.

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   “I said “behave” Mark,” she leveled at him, then looking around almost nervously, added. “Why have you all brought me here? I have to be home before midnight or my dad will freak.” Trying to cover her breasts as she spoke, was an exercise in utter futility

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  “You will be sweetheart,” Julian replied, taking her gently by the arm. “Trust us, we will get you home by then. In the meantime Kirsty, lets just go upstairs for a while…you weren’t exactly ‘complaining’ on the way here were you?”Â

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   She blushed deeply which just made her look that much more desirable if such be possible.

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   Allowing herself to be led by Julian and Charles, each having a hold of her hand, they crossed a small hallway past what appeared to be an ultra-modern kitchen and ascended the stairs to the upper floor. The view afforded the other three men in her wake, was sufficient to engender words of hushed, if not fully indecent appreciation between them.

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    Not three-quarters up the staircase and Mark could no longer control his burgeoning lust. Grabbing the girl by the hips he pulled Kirsty backwards which caused her to lose her balance, falling to her knees on the ninth riser. Thrusting his hand up between her legs whilst admiring her curvy little bottom in the interim, he began groping her vaginal area lewdly through her panties, his own erection approaching the extremes of desperation itself.

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    Lust is contagious.

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    Turning around, thereby seeing what their friend was doing to the girl, now alternately whimpering and crying-out in shocked disbelief, it was impossible to observe those small jiggling breasts and not be moved to needful involvement oneself.

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    Despite her protests, Kirsty found herself spread-eagled, somewhat uncomfortably it must be said, across the stairs while at least three pairs of hands began tugging her panties down past her knees. She let out a squeak of mortified distress as her none-too hirsute pussy was displayed to the baying hounds on site.

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   “Oh my God,” Patrick muttered. “She looks like a sophomore!” No-one was arguing the point.

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    So pre-occupied was she, both visually and physically, with the digital treatment being afforded her breasts, nipples, inner thighs and increasingly moist labia, she failed to notice Mark freeing-up his penile insert. That is until he crawled into her direct line of vision and placed the head right at the promised land.

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   “Pleaase…” she gasped, “You’re not gonna rape me now are you?” Spreading her legs voluntarily it should be mentioned, did nothing to cement her credibility as a victim of aggravated sexual abuse.

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   “Fuck her Mark,” John was pleading, one hand idly squeezing her left breast as he muttered the words.

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    The girl’s status as a virgin was made apparent not thirty seconds later.

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  “That hurts,” she cried out, even as Mark’s erection barely intruded between those sexy labia. Had Plan B really been that practical? she wondered momentarily. She might have given the situation further contemplation had not Mark taken the bull by the horns as it were and thrust up hard into the young girl right at that second. No need for a second opinion – her scream of genuine discomfort and the presence of a not inconsequential trickle of blood, left no doubt that so far as any hymen was concerned – hers was now ancient history.

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    Probably to the ultimate benefit of both parties, Mark was thrusting up now so hard into the girl she was transported to realms of pleasured indulgence which she had never dreamed might exist. Certainly there had been pain – still was to a degree, but compared to the feelings engendered by what this man was doing to her, it was at the lower end of relevance.

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   “Jesus…” Mark enunciated and none too clearly at that. “She is just so tight, you guys won’t believe it.” All present, intended to check that one out thoroughly you may be sure.

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    With Charles and Julian holding her legs even wider now and Patrick consigned to the role of masturbator-in-chief, the visuals were line ball with Mark’s orgasmic progress. He felt the on-set of that final countdown even as Kirsty began whimpering, her slim hips thrusting up to meet the invader’s determined incursions.

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   “Damn you’re soo hot Kirsty,” Mark stammered. It was his last coherent outpouring as he began jerking inside her, spurting deep that which most young girls like to know they have been responsible for inciting. Barely cognizant of the hands on her breasts and hips, fingers pulling her nipples every which way – and even Patrick’s sticky contribution across her lower abdomen and upper thigh, she felt her own orgasm fanning outwards in concentric circles.

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     “So this is what it feels like?” she pondered, both hands instinctively cupping her seeping pussy - Mark having withdrawn his withering tool of trade. She felt herself floating, fully unaware as yet, of the near carpet-burns across her back consistent with her inelegant sprawl there on Julian’s staircase.

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    Much as John needed to plough a fresh field he had the foresight to recognize that in the long-term they might all – Kirsty especially - be better served doing so in comfort. Certainly, while the sight of a young girl being stripped and raped, half-way up a staircase, generated quite the extremes of passion, his own tastes ran more to the conventional – raping a girl on a nice soft bed!

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    It wasn’t ‘rape’ of course. Kirsty being arguably the most willing “victim” in the history of sexually-abused young ladies. Even as John and Charles led her fully naked to Julian’s master-bedroom, her legs still shaky from their previous exertions, she voiced no objection as the other three men smoothed their hands across her breasts, hips and bottom. She found their joint touch arousing in the extreme and willingly allowed any of them to kiss her passionately.

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    It took a while in fact to reach the bedroom!

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    Splayed-out now on the King size bed, Kirsty’s legs were parted sufficiently that any interested party was able to catch a glimpse of filmy white residue from Mark’s earlier coupling, seeping from her youthful vaginal opening. Assuredly it was doing wonders for John himself who having divested himself of his pants, knelt now on the coverlet between her legs, sporting an expression mid-way between hang-dog and Rasputin on a bad day.

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    That was swiftly to change.

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    The sensation derived as his straining erection negotiated the young girl’s post-virginal freeway was much to his liking. Her’s too if the truth be known, always assuming those gasps of pleasure and up-thrusting hips were anything to go by.

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    With her legs spread to the max and those cute light-brown nipples, erect sentinels on pro-active duty, Kirsty struck a pose that not only inspired John’s increasingly deeper penetration but which cried out for the other four’s self-therapeutic involvement. Patrick in fact was frigging himself senseless again, right alongside her upper chest while Charles had in mind a smidgeon of sub-abdominal redecoration it appeared. Mark, invigorated once more, was working the lathe just centimeters from her left cheek as Julian pumped his erection in close proximity to her right breast….heaving little mound, as it presented itself right about then.

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    Kirsty lay with her arms high above her head, disheveled hair fanning out either side of her and more often than not now, with her eyes closed, wriggling in lustful pleasure. That which John was doing to her addled her senses and all she could ponder was how to prolong the incredible high she was experiencing. Whimpering aloud “Fuck me harder…please” was a realistically positive step so far as that particular aspiration was concerned.

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    The outcome was never in doubt. John’s orgasm was swift and decisive. Even as he jerked about like a marionette, filling the void with hot sticky gel, Kirsty felt the first of a multi-part orgasm originating from somewhere between her legs. Whether the shock wave reached her breasts ahead of Julian’s spurts of hot semen is a mute point – the end result was a bi-lateral success.

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    Encouraged visually no doubt by his friend’s fully decadent treatment of so young a girl, Mark found himself jetting a stream of his own skin-softener clear across Kirsty’s face. The teenager gasped in justifiable surprise, being fully unfamiliar with so erotic a sensation. Charle’s orgasm meanwhile – fully triggered by the sight of glistening cum trickling down Kirsty’s cheeks and breasts, emptied his twin receptacles across her flatlands, leaving a trail of sticky white indecency all the way from her belly button to that hot little vaginal mound. Patrick had cum simultaneously, adding copious amounts of warm DNA to that already resident across her nipples.

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    The girl was a mess!

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    For a while no one had much to say. Kirsty was idly toying with a glob of procreative gel as it slid down her left cheek. Knowing she had caused all these men to ejaculate just made her all the hotter. Her pussy felt deliciously squishy and she was aware of hot cum trickling out of her and down her inner thighs. Somewhat anaesthetized by the men’s sexual dealings, she could have put up no resistance whatever their immediate intentions.

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    Julian obviously had specific intentions!

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   “Get on your knees Kirsty would you?” he asked hopefully.

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    She looked up at him quizzically. “My knees??”

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    “Yes sweetie – your hands and knees.” He stammered none too confidently. “Really, you’ll like it. I’m not going to hurt you - I promise.”

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    Not fully trusting him but too far gone sexually to argue, she did as he asked, kneeling then center quilt – the image of beauty if not lustful fantasy. For a moment they all stared at her. Pronounced hips and slim legs – the domain of only the fortunate few. Taut yet proud breasts defining her youthful sex, just partially hidden by naturally wavy hair that cascaded off her pretty shoulders. She was a vision of desire – even for five men just recently drained of their most basic sexual component.

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    And then there was that incomparably sculptured rear-end.

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    Julian laid a hand on her bottom. “God you are just soo sexy Kirsty,’ he whispered, as he began smoothing over those white-hot curves as the girl flinched perceptibly – expecting maybe to be spanked. Such a concept had already presented itself as a most viable opportunity to Julian but was contained, by virtue of his not wishing to demean the girl further. Besides he had alternate plans.

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   Easing up close behind her, he now placed both hands on her rear-end and commenced fondling her from hips to thigh, allowing his hands to inch their way ever inland. She in turn began wriggling her bottom in pleasure with the full knowledge of just how sexy an aspect she was presenting to all on site. Julian’s hand slipped up between her legs and he inserted a finger deep inside her pussy which was still divesting itself of the men’s semen string by sticky string. Kirsty gasped as he entered her but maintained her poise….and pose! John and Charles took the opportunity to fondle her breasts gently while Patrick raised her head slightly and began to kiss her.

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    Kirsty’s body was simply on fire with the attentions being paid her. She couldn’t help thrusting back on to Julian’s hand instinctively. Murmuring as the men began groping her breasts and pulling gently on her nipples. Her eyes opened wide and she gave a small gasp as Julian replaced his finger with something way more substantial.

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    Even as he slipped into that well-lubricated passage, Kirsty turned her head, glancing at her much older partner, an expression of utter satisfaction quite evident.

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    “Do you like that?’ Julian whispered, thrusting deeper. If she could have purred, she would have.

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    “Fuck her senseless,” Mark contributed from across the bed. He never had been noted for his cultural restraint.

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    As Julian engaged turbo, John manouevered himself between the girl’s arms and with but the slightest adjustment, began sucking her right nipple feverishly. Charles saw no reason not to follow suit. The flow-on effect for Kirsty was both immediate and dynamic. Never having been openly suckled, the combined sensation of the men drawing down on her teats while Julian penetrated her almost to her cervical buffer was sufficient to have her crying out in ecstasy – something you could hardly categorize as being detrimental to their group cause.

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   Improbable as you might imagine, but somehow Julian dredged up reserves of the good stuff that he left as a calling card deep within the girl’s abused pussy. Kirsty then cried out as another orgasm transported her to as yet un-traveled realms. Her inflamed nipples tingled as the outbound tsunami radiated north.

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    By the time Patrick and Charles had completed their tours of duty additionally, all six sank to the coverlet exhausted, Julian’s arm resting almost lovingly across the girl’s palpably smooth bottom. One can only speculate what any filmed recording might have brought on eBay!

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    Kirsty recovered her composure first – girls usually do! Glancing across at the bed-side alarm she saw to her horror that it was now 12.18. am.

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   “Look, I really have to go home,” she announced – some might say hopefully! “I am so sore guys,” she added ruefully, patting her ravaged slit delicately.

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     Luckily for her, the five of them were at heart – gentleman. Patrick offered to return to the car and retrieve her clothes and clutch-bag; her panties of course were still resident on the staircase somewhere. By the time he returned, Kirsty was hunched up between them all, hugging her knees and with little or nothing on show that might be described as indiscreet.

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   “Thanks,” she said, smiling prettily as he tossed her stuff, including those hot little floral panties, at her feet.

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    When no-one moved she looked-up enquiringly. “Um...I hafta get dressed guys?”

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   “So, get dressed sweetheart,’ Mark leered across at her. The others watched her reaction.

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    She glanced across at him. “What? You mean like in front of you all?”

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   “Well why not Kirsty…you just let us fuck you??” he replied grinning. One could not fault his logic.

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     Having no time to argue the point, getting home being her sole priority, she tossed them all a withering smile and rescuing her panties, slid them provocatively back to home base. Ten eyes observed that erotic journey – they were accompanied one imagines by ten very dry mouths.

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    Certainly playing to a captive audience, Kirsty then retrieved her bra, skimpy little item that it was, and kneeling there center-quilt, proceeded to wriggle into the thing taking twice as long as necessary to hook it up.

   “You really are a little slut,” Patrick grinned, making a grab for her arm. They had her breasts out and her panties half-way down that cute little crack when they heard someone’s cell-phone ringing.Â

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   “It’s Kirsty’s,” John said, pulling the flip-top from her clutch-bag. Trying to preserve a modicum of decency by holding her bra cups in place with one hand, she took the phone from her tormentor.

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   “Oh Dad…..yeah I’m so sorry, guess I lost track of the time.” Following what sounded like some in-depth questioning, she wriggled free of Julian’s fingers as he attempted to slide them beneath the leg of her panties. “Where am I? Oh just at a girlfriend’s place Dad but its OK I’m getting a lift home in a few minutes.” She shot a glance backwards at Charles as he started to unhook her bra once more. “Stop it!” she hissed under her breath.

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  “Who you talking to Kirsty?” her father asked audibly.

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  “Ohhh nothing dad, just one of the girls being silly…” she replied.