We meet for coffee; I am so nervous and excited at the same time knowing I
am going to meet you for the first time. I am sitting at the coffee shop waiting
for you, and then all of a sudden I see a tall dark haired handsome man. I look
at you smiling hoping that it is you. You walk over to me introducing yourself.
“Hi my name is Mark and you must be Susan?” “Yes” I answer nervously, smiling
at you. You sit down next to me so close that I can feel the heat off your body.
I try to make conversation with you but I can’t, my body shaking all over. The
excitement of finally seeing you.

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You are sitting there, quietly but looking me up and down. Your leg touching
mine, I find my body is becoming so excited. Then you ask me “Shall we go?”
“Yes”, but I am thinking to myself where are you taking me!!! We get to your
car; you open the door for me playfully patting my ass as I hop in the car.
You start driving; I am looking around to see were we are going still not sure.
But my body wants you already; the thought of you naked sends shivers down my
spine. We finally stop at a house; this must be your place I think to myself.
You get out of the car, come around and help me out wrapping your arm around
me. You walk me inside; you just stand there staring at me.

My breasts are aching already my nipples so hard wanting to feel your mouth
on them. Then all of a sudden you pull me closely to you kissing me so deeply.
I feel my hands caressing down you back squeezing your ass, your cock already
hard pressing against me. You start to undress me very fast, ripping my clothes
off I begin to moan at you. Feeling the desire I have inside me for you already.
My pussy is dripping wet, wanting you hard cock to fuck me.

You pick me up and carry me into your bedroom, laying me down on the bed. I
watch as you undress yourself revealing your body to me. I begin to gasp at
you, seeing your cock is so hard and so big. Your head is just so beautiful
already leaking pre-cum, I so desperately want to lick it all off. You slide
between my legs parting my pussy lips, rubbing your hard cock on my wetness.
We both begin to moan loudly, but you look at me and say, “You are not having
my hard cock inside that wet cunt yet”. I pull your face down to me kissing
you so deeply, our tongues twirling against each other. I feel your cock teasing
my wet cunt; it is so close to entering me. My clit becomes so hard aching,
I want to cum now.

You break our kiss, kissing all the way down to my breasts. My nipples just
aching as you begin to suck on them, your hand twists and pulls at them too.
I am moaning watching you as you explore my body. You keep kissing down lower,
tickling my belly with your tongue. I gasp, as I know where your tongue is going
to be next licking at my wet cunt. You part my pussy lips; I push myself to
your tongue wanting you to taste my sweetness. You suck on my clit making it
ache and throb, then your tongue dives deeply inside my cunt. You begin fucking
me with your tongue, then you turn your body around placing that big hard cock
into my mouth. I suck at your cock so hungrily tasting the pre-cum leaking into
my mouth. You begin fucking my mouth with your cock as I lick it all over, you
bury your tongue in my cunt sticking your fingers in there.

You fingers are fucking me deeply; you begin sucking on my clit. I know we
are both going to explode soon into orgasm, our bodies are wild. Your cock becoming
harder, swelling more in my mouth. Forcing yourself right down my throat, moaning
loud onto your cock as you move in and out of my mouth. Wanting so badly to
taste you’re hot cum shooting down my throat. My cunt becoming so wet as your
fingers move faster in and out of me. My clit so swollen, then all of a sudden
my whole body shakes all over as I orgasm so hard. Wetness dripping all over
your fingers down your hand, pushing my cunt hard to your face. At the same
time you shot you’re hot cum into my mouth, drinking you so readily. Swallowing
every drop of you, licking you all over as you orgasm into my mouth. You hop
off me turn around and look at me with lust in your eyes and kiss me so deeply.
I moan into your mouth tasting my sweetness on your tongue.

We lay there together on your bed, holding each other closely not breaking
this intense kiss. Our tongues swirling around in each other’s mouth. Then we
both lie back on the bed resting, wondering what we will do next. But this is
another story!!!!!!!!!!!!

Link

He was professor who was used to fucking dumb little coeds and then leaving them in the dirt! But this girl was unlike any other! She grinded on his cock so hard and adroitly that he was the one begging her not to leave in the end. He would have done anything for another fuck session with her!

Link

I’m the wife of a military officer, and I’ve always been
faithful to my
husband, until recently. When my husband get’s home and asks,
“have you
seen other men?”, I can honestly say no. Luckily, he’s never
thought to
ask me about other women. Thank God, I never could lie to
him
convincingly.

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I don’t cook much while my husband is away. Heck, why bother
cooking

for just me? Well I decided to splurge one night and make myself
a nice
dinner. My special meat loaf, a baked potato, salad, and a pie.
I was a
little down, and very horny after four months of being alone.

Every woman knows that a finger works just fine, at first.
But after a
while you find that you are still horny. And most importantly, a
woman
likes to be touched, even if it’s just the neck, or the back of
the hand.
Touch is very important to a woman. I ached constantly. I knew
his
carrier wouldn’t get back one day sooner than expected. That was
one

reason that so many military wives cheat, but I was never tempted
to seek
out anybody but my Stan. I was stupid. Life is too short to
spend it
waiting on anybody, even your husband. Every day spent waiting
is a day
wasted.

Ok, the dinner idea was fine, but to make a truly great meat
loaf you
need a pound of hamburger and a pound of ground pork. I was out
of
hamburger. Since I had started off my night with a long soak in
the tub, I
started cooking in a house coat. I mean I was only in a house
coat, no

underwear or clothes underneath. I like it that way around the
house. It
was almost midnight and I didn’t feel like going to a lot of
work, so I
dropped the house coat and slipped on a short dress. Who would
know,
right?

I grabbed my purse, slipped my feet into my favorite white
sandals, and
I was off. I pulled into the parking lot in my pathetic blue
pinto, and
started to climb out. Of course I had forgotten my purse, so I
leaned back
with my legs hanging out and grabbed the purse. Then I
remembered the

keys. I don’t know why I bother, nobody in their right mind
would steal
that piece of junk, but it’s a habit. I finally got myself
together and
slid the rest of the way out of the pinto to find a young woman
staring at
my exposed legs and short dress, from the car parked next to me.
I
belatedly remembered that I had no underwear on. I turned dark
red and
felt like dying. She just smiled and nodded agreeably.

“I was in a hurry,” I said apologetically.

“Last minute supper for the hubby?” she asked with a smile as
she

climbed out of her immaculate white lincoln.
“I haven’t seen hubby for four months and won’t see him for
at least
two more,” I said, maybe a little grumpy.

She grabbed a shopping cart and we walked into the store
together.

“I know how you feel,” she said sympathetically. “My
boyfriend dumped
me a month ago. I don’t even want to look at a another man after
that mess.”

“Well I have to go,” I said, not really wanting too go, but
feeling I

should. She seemed a little strange, in a nice sort of way. She
was
wearing a tank top with tiny straps and it was cut way low. I
could even
see the corner of a tatoo on her left breast, but I tried not to
stare. On
the other hand, I really hadn’t talked to anybody for a long
time, and I
missed that.

“I have a big dinner planned, all I need is a pound of ground
beef.”

“A big dinner alone?”

“Yeah, silly huh?”

“Not really. I plan out my entire day sometimes, down to the
smallest
detail. Everything by the clock, you know? Something like cocoa
and toast
at exactly 8:00 o’clock, bubble bath at 2:00 o’clock, and I rent
a movie
for exactly six. I guess it’s about the same thing.”

“Yeah,” I said with a smile. “Hey, I… do you want to come
over? I
mean I know you don’t know me, but… well I haven’t talked to a
girl in a
long time.”

“I know what you mean. Sure, then I won’t have to buy this
garbage for

the outrageous prices they charge,” she picked up a rotting peach
and
dropped it back in the pile.

“Great! Let me get the ground beef,” I hurried to the meat
isle and
grabbed the first one I saw. For some reason I felt desperate to
get back
before she could change her mind. Maybe it was a premonition.
She was
still waiting when I returned. We left together chatting happily
and
laughing like old friends. Her name was Marlene, I’m Shelly, of
course,
and we hit it off right away.

I watched the headlights in my mirror all the way home to
make sure I
didn’t lose her at a light. I showed her where to park so the
neighbors
wouldn’t complain, then we went inside together. The pie was
done, the
potato was cooking, but I quickly added a second one and shoved
the meat
loaf in after it.

Marlene sat at the kitchen table and we chatted while I
finished
everything, then we ate. After dinner we went into the living
room and I
poured us wine. I turned the TV to a pay channel and we watched
half-

heartedly while we talked. We found out we had a lot in common.

I also found out that Marlene was extremely interested in my
legs. At
first I thought it was an accident. We were sitting across from
each
other, Marlene on the couch, and me in the over-stuffed chair,
and I
noticed that she kept changing positions when I moved. I finally
realized,
to my complete amazement, that she was changing positions to look
under my
short dress. I had never seen a lesbian before, but the thought
suddenly
entered my mind that Marlene was a lesbian. I intentionally
changed

positions, facing my legs to the left and sitting on my feet.
Sure enough,
she changed too, leaning on the right arm of the couch casually
while she
talked.

I didn’t know what to think or do. There was a lesbian in my
house!
How would I get rid of her, without hurting her feelings? What
if she
tried to rape me? What would I say if she propositioned me?
“Is something wrong?” Marlene suddenly asked, noticing that I
had
stopped talking.

“I just realized that I forgot to put on underwear,” I heard
myself
say, not knowing why I said it. “It must be terribly
embarrassing for you.
I’ll slip some on right away,” I said, jumping to my feet.
“Are you kidding? In your own house? Why bother, there’s nobody
here
but us girls?”
“But I really should,” I said nervously.
“No, come on, the movie is getting to the juicy part. You
don’t want

to miss it,” she said with a pretty smile. I know I should have
ignored
her and gotten dressed, then that would have been the end of it.
But it
was the thought of it, I was attractive to another woman. The
thought was
new, and frankly a little exciting. I glanced at her legs,
really noticing
them for the first time. She was wearing a short levi skirt,
with a slit
up the side. Her legs were strong and well-tanned. I could just
see the
white crotch of her panties showing. It’s funny that I never
noticed such
things before. Do women unconsciously advertise themselves like
that? I
don’t think I ever did.

“Shelly?”
“Huh,” I said, coming back to the real world again. I
realized in
complete horror that I had been staring at her panties for
several minutes.
Oh shit, what if she got the wrong idea? I also realized that I
was
getting horny. I was getting myself all worked up. If I didn’t
stop I
would have to finger myself in the bathroom before too long.
“I said the movie is really explicit. Are you sure you want to
see
such things?”

I looked at the movie and realized that it was a lesbian
scene. One
woman was eating another, while a third spied on them through a
curtain.
Oh God, here was my chance. I suddenly knew what I wanted,
and if I
went about this carefully, I could be satisfied in the next hour
or so.
After a good round of sex the next two months would be a
breeze.
“I… I kind of like these scenes, I can learn a lot from
them. They
say that only a woman knows how to make love to another woman,” I
said with

a shaky smile, turning red while I said it.
“Boy, that must have been hard to say,” she said with a
smile.
“Huh?”
“I know you’re not a lesbian, Shelly, it’s obvious to anybody
who is.
I’m bi, not a real lesbian, by the way,” she said calmly.
“Oh, boy, this is really hard,” I said, shaking and laughing
nervously.
“I know it is. You’re a sweet girl and if you need a little
sex to get

you through, I’ll be happy to help you out. Afterwards, I’ll
just go away,
if you want, and you’ll never see me again. You don’t need to be
nervous.”
“Oh yes I do,” I said in a gush of words. “I wouldn’t even
know how to
start,” I laughed nervously again and covered my mouth to keep
from saying
anything else stupid.
“Well since the chair isn’t big enough for both of us, I
suggest you
come sit by me,” she patted the couch next to her.
“I don’t think my legs will work,” I laughed. When I stood I
found I

was almost right. My heart was beating wildly, my whole body was
shaking,
and my legs were so weak I was afraid that I would fall down on
the way
around the coffee table.
I found myself sitting next to Marlene as if I were in a
dream. Was I
really sitting next to a girl who would eat me like the girls on
TV were?
The room seemed especially bright and stuffy.
Marlene was so beautiful. She had jet black hair, a very
creamy
complexion, and a nice tan where it showed. She was beautiful.
I guessed

that she was about eighteen, maybe a year younger than me.
“You don’t have to look at me like that,” she said with a
little laugh.
“Like what?”
“Like you were a bad girl and I had the stick. This doesn’t
hurt, you
know?”
“I’m sorry. My brain is working at a mile a minute. I’m so
damned
scared, Marlene.”

“It’s kind of like your first date, isn’t it?” she asked
while she
calmly put her hand on my leg near the knee and rubbed it gently.
I felt
tingles, jolts, and fire coming from that small contact. I was
so… I was
scared shitless.
“MMMarlene, if we don’t do something quickly, I think I’ll
die from a
heart attack,” I said, shaking noticeably.
“Are you up to a kiss?”

“With you?” I asked in horror.
“Maybe not,” she said. “How about if I just kiss your neck?”
she
asked, leaning down to kiss the left side of my neck. I closed
my eyes,
feeling fire spreading through my body. I suddenly turned limp
and had to
lean against the back of the couch. I could smell her perfume
and feel her
hair against my cheek. Her lips were burning me up. My nipples
were so
hard, they were poking through my dress. I opened my eyes and
looked down
at the face kissing my neck. Marlene had her eyes open. She
glanced up

and suddenly pulled back a little.
“Did you like that?” she asked with her face four inches from
my own.
I surged forward and put my lips against hers. Before I knew it
we each
had our hands behind the other’s head and we were kissing like we
had never
been kissed before. I fenced with her tongue desperately,
sucking at her
sweet mouth like I had never kissed a man. Our breasts were
touching and I
could feel her hard nipples digging into the soft skin of my
breasts. I
was so turned on that I knew I would die. I tried to inhale
Marlene. I

wanted to crawl up inside her.
We kissed for hours, days, weeks, then we finally broke the
kiss and
sat with our foreheads pressed together. Marlene gently opened
the top
buttons on my dress and pulled the material aside. I had great
tits, I
knew it and everyone else knew it. But it had never seemed
important until
now. We each stared down at my breasts while her fingers gently
explored
the firm globes, carefully avoiding the nipples. My tits burned
everywhere
that her fingers touched. In a moment both of her hands were
gently

feeling my tits, every so softly and knowingly. I was melting
like hot wax
on a stove.
“I need to lay down,” I said shakily.
“Great,” she said and helped me lay back on the couch. Her
fingers
opened a few more buttons and I watched, mesmerized as her face
approached
my right breast, hesitated for a moment, then she began kissing
my soft
tit. I gasped at the fire her kiss sent down my chest, through
my stomach,
and directly to my sopping wet pussy. She licked under my firm
globe

first, then she licked between my tits and finally, after an
eternity, she
placed her warm lips over my nipple and began sucking. I
gasped,
stiffened, and immediately had an orgasm. She continued to suck,
watching
my face until the orgasm passed.
“That’s one,” she said with a smile.
“One is all I ever have,” I said regretfully.
“Want to bet? I guarantee no less than four orgasms in the
next two

hours.”
“You’re kidding?” I gasped, trying to grasp such a new
concept. “I’ll
die,” I said.
“Nope, but you’ll be in heaven,” she said and started sucking
on my
right breast while she tweaked the nipple on the left one with
soft
fingers. I knew right off that I wasn’t going to have another
orgasm from
her sucking my tits, and apparently she figured it out too. She
moved down
between my tits and licked the salt from beneath them, then with
deaf

fingers she undid more buttons until my dress lay open and slid
down to my
sides.
I was laying completely naked, vulnerable to her loving
attack. And it
was an attack, make no mistake about that. As she drew closer to
my
abdomen she began licking and kissing almost savagely. I knew
she was
getting really turned on too.
She slid down past my knee and up between my legs. I looked
down,
afraid that she would find me strange or ugly down there. After
all, I had

never had a woman’s appraisal before. But apparently everything
was
normal, because she kissed her way from my knee to my inner thigh
without
comment.
“Boy, Shelly, you’re wet,” she said. I was totally
embarrassed.
“Do you want me to get cleaned up?” I asked
self-consciously.
“Not on your life, girl, I’ve earned this feast. Now open up
and let a
pro clean you,” she said, forcing my legs open wider.

I had to see it. There was no way I would miss looking at
another
woman’s face between my legs. After all, I had never even
considered such
a thing earlier tonight, now it was happening. I planned to
memorize each
little detail for those long nights when Stan was too tired.

I pulled my dress up until it was laying on my abdomen and I
could see
Marlene’s face. It was worth watching. Marlene extended her
tongue while
she made eye contact with me, then gently pushed it inside the
folds of my
wet mound. I gasped and stiffened up as it slid deep inside my
vulva, then

back out again to slice through my wet folds of pussy flesh. I
felt every
minute detail, even the slightest pressure or movement was
telegraphed to
my brain as an electric shock.
“Oh shit, Marlene, it’s been so long. You can’t believe how
good that
feels,” I managed to get the shaky words out one gasp at a
time.
“You are delicious, girl. I wouldn’t have missed this for
the world,”
she mumbled with my pussy still in her mouth.
“You look so beautiful down there, I will always remember
this,” I

gasped again, mashing my tits as I humped my sex against her
face.
“I think you’re ready for the second orgasm,” she smiled and
changed
positions slightly. She dropped her mouth and cupped it over my
pussy,
then began sucking while her tongue flashed over my clit. My
orgasm was
almost instantaneous. I stiffened under her attack, felt the
fire boiling
in my loins, and before I knew it I was screaming at the ceiling
while I
mashed my tits unmercifully.
“Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES!” I screamed as she continued
sucking my pussy

while I came. Just as my pussy turned sensitive, she held her
mouth still
and watched my face. She was still applying the suction to my
mound, but
thankfully, she wasn’t moving. It took me a long time to come
down off
that one, she had sent me through the ceiling.
“I want to kiss you and taste my own juice,” I gasped,
reaching for
her. She complied with a smile, surging forward and laying atop
my body.
We kissed for a long time, then I licked my juices from her
beautiful young
face.

“I want to do you,” I said bravely as we laid with our faces
almost
touching.
“Not yet, you still have two orgasm to go,” she reminded
me.
“I don’t care about them, I just want to taste you.”
“Nope, not yet, you really aren’t ready,” she said with a
smile and
slid back down my body. “Now roll over on your stomach,” she
said, giving
my leg a slap.

“On my stomach?” I asked while I rolled over. “Why?”
“I’m going to do your ass,” she said, already putting her
words into
actions. Before I could object I felt her face between the crack
of my
ass. Her tongue pressed against my anus and tickled it. I gave
a little
scream and let my face fall into the couch cushions to smother
the noise.
She pulled my ass cheeks apart and shoved her tongue against my
pink ring,
pushing persistently until I felt my ass starting to relax. The
tongue
slid part way in and I automatically clenched up my muscles. She
slapped

my ass without talking, and I tried to relax. In a moment it
made it’s way
in a little farther. She wiggled and pressed this way and that
until the
tongue made it’s way in more. Her tongue was probably only
inside me for a
half inch or so, but it felt huge. I was just getting used to
the feeling
when her hand suddenly went to my wet little pussy and her thumb
stroked my
clit. I felt another orgasm building, but I tried to suppress
it, both to
prove her wrong, and to prolong the wonderful feeling. I had
never had my
ass reamed. Stan never even considered such an idea, but a woman
was
actually doing it to me. Oh how wonderful it felt. It was
creating fires

where I never knew I could feel them, mostly in the area inside
my ass,
near my backbone.
With a mighty effort, Marlene shoved her tongue the rest of
the way
inside my ass and started snaking it around inside me. I had
never felt so
filled up down there, or so hot. I could feel everything her
cheeks, her
nose, and that wonderful tongue, now inside me. Before I knew it
I was
pushing my ass back against her face to meet her tongue. It must
have
hurt, but she didn’t complain. I heard a funny grunting sound,
and

suddenly realized that it was me, grunting in time with her thumb
massaging
my clit. I was having my orgasm. I tried desperately to stop
it, but that
seemed to make me burn even more.
“I’m going to come again!” I screamed, looking over my
shoulder at
Marlene. It was disgusting to see her face buried in my ass,
and
absolutely wonderful. I would never forget it.
“Eat my sweet ass, Marlene. Make me come so I can eat
yours,” I
begged. My begging turned into a scream as the orgasm struck
with full

strength. I screamed and screamed with my face buried in the
couch cushion
so I could let it all out without the neighbors hearing me. I
panted and
grunted and still her tongue continued to ream my ass. I could
feel my ass
clenching around her tongue, trying to rip it from her mouth.

Her thumb finally stilled on my clit, and then her tongue
stopped
inside my ass. She continued to hold it there inside me, waiting
until I
was less sensitive to pull it out. When she slowly withdrew it I
almost
had another orgasm. I wilted lifelessly on the couch, unable to
move.

“You have the sweetest little ass I have ever eaten,” she
said from
beside my ear.
“Oh don’t say that, it was disgusting,” I said, without
opening my
eyes.
“Would you like it eaten again?” she asked enticingly.
“Oh yes, a hundred times,” I said, opening my eyes and
smiling at her.
“What’s next?”

“Next we have a drink and relax,” she said, sliding my body
over to sit
on the couch. “My tongue is tired and the next orgasm will be
the
hardest.”
“Then can I do you next?” I asked hopefully.
“Well sort of, it’s a mutual kind of thing. But first I need
to brush
my teeth and have that drink.”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot,” I said, looking at her mouth.

“Stan has a lot of alcohol, I don’t drink anything but wine,
so I don’t
know much about it,” I jumped to my feet and went to the bar.
She was
already heading for the bathroom. I made a sloe gin fizz, which
was easy
enough, it had the directions on the back of the bottle. As
an
afterthought, I decided to make one for myself.
I knew she was planning on doing a 69 next, I had seen them
on TV. I
couldn’t wait. But that wasn’t exactly what she planned.
“Do you have any vibrators, Shelly?”

“God no, I wouldn’t mind having one, but I’d never buy one.
Somebody
might recognize me.”
“Whoa, girl, you’re behind the times. You can pick one up at
any drug
store. Of course they call them back massagers, but look at the
design
some time. Never mind, you must have carrots or cucumbers.”
“Sure, I have a big bag of carrots. I like to dip them in
Russian
dressing.”
“That’s not what I plan on dipping it in.”

“You’re going to do something kinky with a carrot?”
“Think about it, Shelly, long, stiff and smooth?”
“Oh, yeah. I never thought about it before. In the fridge
on the
bottom drawer. If you need a peeler it’s in the drawer beside
the fridge.”
“Thanks, I will,” she called from the other room. I heard
her banging
around in the kitchen, while I drank my gin. It went right to my
stomach,
and my pussy. What a rush, instant horniness. I bet they never
advertised

that side effect before.
As I fixed my second drink I heard the microwave ding.
“What in the world are you doing, Marlene?”
“Do you want a cold carrot shoved up your pussy,” she asked
waving a
smoothly pealed carrot in each hand.
“No.”
“Ok then,” she handed me one carrot and accepted the drink.

“I had one already,” I said with a sly smile.
“Gin is an instant turn-on, great choice,” she said and
sipped her
drink.
“I found that out. Are we going to sixty-nine now,” I asked
in
anticipation.
“Absolutely. The best sexual position in the world. Of
course it

works better for a man and a woman, but if the bottom girl props
her head
up with a pillow, she can eat forever. You get a big come that
way, since
you are concentrating on pleasing the other person. It kind of
prolongs
the session.”
“Marlene, you have made me come three times and you haven’t
even taken
your clothes off. Can I do it while you drink?”
“Sure, knock yourself out,” she said, waving her nearly empty
glass. I
immediately sank to my knees in front of her. I undid the snap
on her levi

skirt, unzipped it, and it slid down her legs, dropping in a pile
around
her feet. Her white cotton panties were soaking wet. I touched
the wet
spot with my finger and slid it in my mouth.
“Oh, shit, I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I said in a
shuddering
voice.
“I can’t believe a beautiful woman like you has never been
hit on
before.”
I smiled up at her with a shrug, then stood to lift her top.
She

raised her arms while I pulled it over her head, and the now
empty glass.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her breast. The tatoo was a
butterfly, the
rest of her breasts were absolutely perfect. I knew how rare it
was for
two women with perfect, firm tits to be in the same room
together. Neither
of us had implants, at least no scars showed on Marlene.
“How can something so simple be so perfect?” I asked in awe.
“I’ve
never touched another woman’s breasts before,” I said, extending
shaking
hands. I paused just before reaching my goal, then firmly
planted both

hands on a full breast. It felt so wonderful. I moved closer
and put my
lips around one erect nipple. I closed my eyes, totally enjoying
the
feeling of the firm nipple between my lips.
Marlene moaned, then put one hand behind my head and drew me
back with
her as she sat on the couch. I licked the firm globe, tasting
the salt
from the sweat of her body. The feeling and taste of another
woman’s
breast was very erotic. I bathed both of her breasts, capturing
all the
salt I could find on and under each one, then concentrated on
sucking the

other nipple to extreme hardness. Marlene was laying against the
arm of
the couch, panting loudly with her eyes closed.
I raised up and rotated my fingers over each nipple while I
looked down
the length of the beautiful girl’s body. She was a girl, barely
eighteen
at the most. She had a slender, washboard stomach, rounded hips,
and the
longest, slenderest legs I have ever seen.
I took my hands off her nipples and smoothed them down both
sides of
her body, to each hip. I bent down and kissed her stomach, then
moved to

her belly button. Even from there I could smell the exotic
fragrance of
her pussy. Her panties were even more coated with juices. I
reminded
myself to wash them for her before she left.
I put my hands on the waistband of her panties and pulled
them down, as
I walked beside her body on my knees. I slid them off her feet
with one
hand and brought them to my nose. After inhaling deeply, I
placed the
crotch of her panties in my mouth and sucked the sticky juices
out of the
fabric.

“That is the most wonderful, seductive thing I have ever
seen,” she
whispered, watching me with a slow smile.
“What’s that?” I asked softly.
“Watching a first-timer tasting my juice and enjoying it.
Women are
very vain and anxious with their clothes off. They always worry
about what
the other woman will think. You are absolutely delicious, by the
way.”
“I think you are too,” I said in embarrassment, “but I need
to taste

you at the source.”
“Be my guest,” she spread her legs, letting one rest on the
floor while
she put the other near the back of the couch.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this!” I almost screamed and moved
between
her legs. I let the panties fall to the floor and gently
massaged each
perfect leg. They were so long! I moved closer to her pussy,
put my hands
on her thighs, and bent forward to taste.
When my tongue touched her pussy she gave a little cry. I
looked at

her for a moment, then placed my lips over her pussy and began
sucking and
licking. Marlene gasped and stiffened, then reached down to pull
my head
into her crotch. I moved my nose upward so I could breath, then
ate
Marlene with a vengeance. I immediately went to her clit and
began licking
it. She squealed and stiffened on the couch, rotating her pussy
against my
feasting mouth. I ignored the small amount of pain her pelvis
caused as it
crushed my lips. I put my lips around her clit and sucked it
from it’s
envelop, then rubbed it vigorously with my tongue.
Marlene jerked upright on the couch. “No, not yet, Shelly.
Suck my

juices and lick the fold of skin first. I don’t want to come
yet.”
I wasn’t sure where the juices came from, but I lowered my
mouth to her
vulva, spread her pussy apart until the dark, steamy hole was
open, the
pressed my lips against it and sucked. “Oh yes, drink me,”
Marlene
whispered harshly. “Drink my nectar, drain my little peach dry,
Shelly.”
My mouth filled with so much juice that I wasn’t sure that I
liked it,
at first. It had a funny taste and was a little slimy. But
after
swallowing the first mouth full of Marlene’s fluids, I found less
juice and

could really appreciate it more.
“No more, you’re hurting me,” Marlene gasped. I realized
that I had
been sucking rather savagely to get every last drop of syrup from
her
loins. I didn’t mean to hurt her.
“Lick the outer folds of skin,” she said with an
understanding smile.
I reluctantly moved my mouth back up and started licking,
with my mouth
less than an inch from her steamy mound. I tried to lick like a
dog, but I

couldn’t. I pressed my open mouth over her pussy and gave it a
full kiss
as my tongue continued to explore her wet folds of flesh. It was
the most
wonderful moment of my life. I vowed to never forget the
feeling, the
consuming passion, and the alienness of my first time eating
another
woman’s pussy. It was so wonderful.
“Ok, Shelly,” she pushed my head away. I cried out an
objection, then
saw her grabbing the carrots. “Time to change positions,” she
explained.
“Let’s go to your bedroom.”

My first thought was whether the bedroom was clean or not,
but my pussy
was burning up and I really didn’t care. I just wanted to eat
and be
eaten.
I dove on the bed and rolled over to watch her stroll up to
the bed.
She was amazing, totally confident and poised, even while naked.
That was
hard. Most women tended to hide themselves. Marlene fell on the
bed and
rolled over to face me. She handed me a carrot with a smile.
“Know what to do with one of these?”

“Dip it?”
“That’s right. Dip it just as far as it will go.”
“It’s rubbery,” I said, shaking mine to make it wiggle. It
really was
a lot like a prick.
“That’s the microwave, it can turn anything to rubber in just
a few
minutes. Are you ready?”
“Oh yes.”

“You want the top, or the bottom?”
“I don’t know,” I said uncertainly.
“Ok, you take the bottom. First you need to double a pillow
up under
your head.”
“Why?”
“To hold it up. Otherwise your neck will be killing you in
minutes,”

she said while folding the pillow under my head. After a quick
kiss she
changed positions. I saw the pussy coming down to meet my face
and I
lunged up off the bed to meet it. Of course the pillow unfolded
and left
me laying too low. I quickly refolded it before she lowered her
pussy to
my mouth. I immediately began licking her clit, while I gently
worked the
carrot into her steamy hole. After several tries it was
lubricated enough
to slide inside without hurting her. To my utter delight, I
could feel her
doing the same thing down in my pussy. This was so wonderful.
No wonder
lesbians loved this position. It was like a mirror. What she
did, I did.

For a moment I had the feeling that my own pussy was in my mouth
and I was
shoving a carrot deep inside myself.
With no fooling around Marlene suddenly began licking my clit
with
short, vicious strokes of her stiff tongue. I forgot to repay
this
kindness for a moment as I buried my face against her thigh and
simply
enjoyed the feeling. The carrot was sliding deeper than I had
ever felt
anything inside me. Occasionally it felt like it was hitting
something,
and the extra contact drove me completely wild. I stroked the
carrot in

and out of Marlene while I renewed my attack on her clit. My
eyes went to
her puckered anus, but it was too far away for me to
experiment.
My entire body was shaking now, not from nervousness, but
from building
passion. I loved every single little thing about this new
lovemaking
session with Marlene. I loved feeling her soft skin against my
stomach,
her tits digging into my abdomen, and the soft feeling of her
hair on my
inner thighs.
On my end I was finding her pussy absolutely delicious. I
couldn’t get

enough of that sweet young girl. Her firm legs were pressed
against the
sides of my face. Her ass looked so firm and inviting. I
reached up with
my left hand and squeezed one firm cheek. It was absolutely
hard, firm as
hell. I moved my hand down and massaged her left leg with loving
strokes.
I suddenly realized that I had forgotten to eat her for a moment,
and
returned to lavishing loving strokes to her sweet little bud.
The carrot was coated with slick juices and white foam. I was
afraid
it would slip out of my hand and get lost inside her. I dug my
fingernails
into the sides of the carrot and plunged it in as far as it would
go. She

stiffened up, but didn’t complain.
I felt a burning inside me that frightened me, at first.
Then I
realized it was an orgasm, but one so completely different from
what I’d
had before that I didn’t recognize it. It started with a deep,
burning
fire farther up than my pussy. As it built I realized that it
was a raging
orgasm that would involve my entire body.
As I whimpered and ate Marlene furiously, I plunged the
carrot in and
out with blinding speed. She did the same to me. I felt her
pull the

folds of my pussy out with her teeth, then take the clit in her
teeth and
nibble it. I sucked her’s into my mouth and nursed on it as I
would a
nipple. It was hard and hot between my lips, just like a tiny
prick.
Then the waves of orgasm began filling my loins and exploding
in my
pussy. I forced my pussy up to meet her mouth and grunted,
finding it hard
to continue eating Marlene when my pussy was being ripped apart.
I finally
pulled the carrot out and tossed it aside, then grabbed both
cheeks of her
as and mashed my mouth against her pussy, sucking and tongue
furiously as I

came hard.
It took me a few moments to realize that Marlene was mashing
her sex
against my mouth because she was coming too. I don’t know how
she held off
so long. I used her pussy as a cushion, screaming into it to
muffle the
sound. I moved my face back and forth, pressing my tongue hard
against her
pussy while I sucked. Her pussy was banging against my face in
time with
her grunts of passion. I rode out her bucking ride, trying to
keep my
mouth in contact with the wild, spasming pussy.

As my own orgasm eased off she rested with her open mouth on
my pussy,
muffling her own screams of passion. When we were both through
we were too
tired to do more than lay there panting. Finally Marlene rolled
off of me
and lay hugging my leg. I turned and kissed hers, then held it
too. The
carrot slowly slid out of my pussy and dropped to the floor
between my
legs.
“I’ll never be able to look at a carrot the same again,” I
said with a
giggle.

Marlene became my best friend, of course and she spent most
of the next
two months with me. We met for short periods when Stan was in
port, but
really looked forward to him leaving. All he knew about Marlene
was that
she was my “cute” friend. I only hope that she will always be
there when I
need her. Every woman needs a friend like Marlene.

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He sucked her toes for all he was worth. And he was worth a LOT! She showed him that feet were the way to a stud's heart by giving him a footjob that left him painting and moaning for more! The soft soles stroking the sides of his shaft were more than enough to make his head spin!

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I slowly trudged down the street to the bus stop. It was only noon on a perfectly good Saturday, but I was broke and Fayetteville didn’t cater to broke, half-drunk soldiers. Fayetteville was a city designed to milk the soldiers of Fort Bragg of every penny they earned, and they did, either through the hundreds of bars, or the hundreds of massage parlors. Ok, there really weren’t hundreds, but there were a lot and I knew every bar and massage parlor in town.

After being out in the field for 20 days I wanted action of some kind. But I was destined to return to the barracks and watch tv, with dozens of other guys in my situation. I noticed that the bus stop was empty when I approached, that could only mean one thing, the bus had just left. I kicked back, put one hand on each side of the bench, waiting in a sullen stupor. I had just enough buzz to feel miserable, what I called an instant hangover.

I watched two black hookers approach, whisper between themselves, then walk by with an exaggerated swing of their hips. They weren’t fools, they new why I was there. I watched the one with a cute, shapely ass and long legs until they were almost out of site. I felt my cock getting hard. The woman turned and smiled at me, waving over her shoulder. She knew I’d been watching her ass.

“This sucks,” I said to myself, feeling even more miserable. I didn’t like jacking off, it was like inhaling the vapors off a block of ice to quench your thirst. It was better than nothing, but it just wasn’t good enough. Besides, nearly everyone in the Army masturbated, but they treated anyone who got caught miserably, and they never forgot. I wasn’t about to be caught doing something that was only a half- assed solution. Maybe I could borrow some money and come back to pick up that whore, or hit a massage parlor. You seldom found sex in a massage parlor, usually you got a half-assed massage and a beautiful girl asked you if you wanted manual relief and jacked you off. I had gotten lucky and found a girl that would put out for a hundred bucks, in the hotel massage parlor. The fucked up thing was that there were always a dozen guys waiting for her. On a Saturday she was up to her elbows in dicks and she never gave credit.

The whore had looked good. I had picked up a black whore when I first hit town. She was a good fuck but I worried about diseases for a month afterwards. I really didn’t want to go through that again. I needed a steady girlfriend bad, one with a car so I didn’t have to take this damned bus.

I suddenly realized that a car had stopped in front of me. A good looking guy with a flattop haircut was staring at me with a smile on his face.

“Broke and only half drunk?” he asked sympathetically.

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“I used to be in the Army. I got out two years ago. You have no idea how many times I sat on that bench right where you’re setting. I’ll tell you what, if you want to come home with me I can offer you a drink and point out all the lose girls in my trailer park. I’ve fucked most of them. Half are army wives with men out in the field and the other half are single women on welfare. They all jump at the chance for a good fuck.”

“No shit?” I asked, thinking there really was a Santa Claus.

“For real. Jump in,” he said with another smile. It was decision time, this was a very muscular guy. His shoulders were bigger than mine, even though he was shorter. If he turned axe murderer, I would have a hell of a time with this guy. On the other hand he seemed to be friendly. The alternative was to lay around the barracks.

“Sure,” I said, rounding the car and getting in. He gave me an even bigger smile and pulled out on Main Street. I watched the buildings pass, trying to memorize the route so I could walk back later.

“How long have you been in?” he asked.

“Just over a year.”

“Ugh, you’re barely getting paid then. No wonder you’re waiting to go back to the fort, you were broke before you started.”

“Yeah, 300 bucks doesn’t go far in this town.”

“Tell me about it. If you want you can crash at my place any time, the liquor cabinet is always full and I’ve got a hundred dirty movies.”

“I’ve never seen a dirty movie, I grew up on the farm.”

“Shit, you’re probably a virgin then.”

“No, I’ve been having sex since I was fifteen,” I said, starting to feel uncomfortable. I didn’t know what this guy wanted, but he was starting to ask some strange questions.

“That’s good. A man can’t really be a man without regular sex.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I said, watching him from the corner of my eye. He spent a lot of time rubbing his chin and looking in the rearview mirror, but I had a feeling he was checking me out, not his chin. I had about decided to turn around and go home, when he suddenly pulled into a trailer park. He bumped over a speed bump, drove a few yards and pulled in beside a small but new looking trailer. I wasn’t big on trailers, but the trailers in the park were new and the park was well-maintained. If I had to live in a park, I would choose this one.

“What do you usually drink?” he asked, slamming the car door.

“Uh, anything sweet,” I couldn’t remember any drink names. I remembered later that I liked rum and coke, but at the moment I was a little nervous. I paused at the front door and looked around the park, hoping to see the loose women he had spoken of. I didn’t see anybody.

“Come in and close the door. My name is Tom.”

“I’m Mark, I said, closing the door to the darkened trailer. I walked inside and noticed that it was nearly dark because there were curtains covering every window.

“I work nights and like to sleep on the couch,” he said, gesturing at the windows with an empty glass. “Sit over there on the couch, I’ll be there in a second. I can crank up some of my movies. Any preferences?” he asked, filling the glasses.

“No,” I said, not knowing which preferences he was talking about.

“Here, try this,” he handed me a red drink. I sipped it and smiled. “Fantastic! What is it?” I asked.

“Tequila sunrise.”

“That’s good,” I said, sipping again and watching him open a cabinet. I looked inside and found a small projector and dozens of movies. He opened a drawer beneath it and I saw that he wasn’t exaggerating, he had more than a hundred movies. I picked up a few and read them. There were labels such as “Lesb bdsm” and a few others that were equally confusing. He took the one in my hand, looked at it and nodded, adding it to the stack he was already building.

“I’ve got a little bit of everything here so you can see what you like,” he said, threading a movie into the projector. I sat back on the couch feeling warm and happy. The drink had gotten rid of my instant hangover and I was buzzing again.

“Ok, see if you like this one,” he said, starting a movie with a goofy looking guy in a World War I flying helmet. The guy was soon joined by two beautiful girls who proceeded to strip each other, then him. The movie didn’t make a damned bit of sense, because there was no sound. But the girls were beautiful and naked, so I didn’t complain. Soon one girl started giving the guy a blowjob while the other girl kissed him. As soon as the girl’s lips touched his cock, mine sprang to attention. I was horny so fast my head was spinning. I tried to hid my hard-on behind the hand holding my glass. I only took a drink when he was looking the other way. It didn’t work for long, his eyes soon spotted my hard- on.

“Do you like this one?” he asked.

“Sure, it’s ok.”

“Has a girl ever done that to you?”

“Nope.”

“I could find a girl to do it to you if you want.”

“Hell yes,” I said enthusiastically.

“Would you like to see how it feels?”

“Sure,” I said, really excited now. I couldn’t believe this guy was offering to get me a girl to do this. What a pal.

“Here, let me take your drink,” he came over and held out his hand. I used the other hand to conceal my hard-on, while I handed him my drink with my left hand. He took it and set it on the projector cabinet, then sank to his knees by my leg. I didn’t know what the hell was going on, but if this was required to get that girl, I could wait. His hands were suddenly fumbling at my belt and even I, a stupid farmboy, knew what was happening. This guy was going to suck my dick!

I had heard of such things, but didn’t know it was so popular that I would ever see it. But here he was, a guy on his knees by my leg, pulling my pants down.

“Raise up,” he said simply as he pulled my pants and underwear down with one jerk. My hard throbbing cock was glistening with pre-cum. Even as I looked down in horror, I saw a huge drop swelling up at the tip of my cock and forming a little transparent dome.

“You are really wet,” he said needlessly as he neared my cock. I was embarrassed, looking around for something to wipe myself off with. He took a firm hold on my cock and began licking the sticky fluid off my cock.

“Um, that’s good,” he said in a gentle voice. I had never thought of my cock juice as good before, it was just something that lubricated whatever I fucked. This was a whole new way of thinking. Kind of like a vampire. He had tasted me and said I tasted good. I realized that I was proud.

Then he really began to suck and lick my cock and I groaned and wilted on the couch. This was really good, even better than fucking a whore, or getting a hand-job in a massage parlor. This was incredibly pleasurable. There was something about looking down and seeing a guy sucking my dick that made me really excited. I had never even thought of this happening before, and here it was happening right between my legs.

Tom started bobbing up and down on my cock. I leaned back and watched the movie for a moment, then closed my eyes. The movie was making me too horny, I wanted this to last for a while. The guy was really good, I could feel the wonderful feelings going from my prick to my ass. My entire crotch was burning with passion. Occasionally I could feel more precum sneaking down my long fleshy tube, but Tom didn’t seem to care, or notice. He just continued bobbing up and down. Suddenly he stopped, put one hand on my nut sack, and began sucking and nibbling on the head. The feeling was so intense that I began to feel my cock shrinking. He hastily put his mouth over the head of my cock and sucked like it was a straw. It was all I could take. My balls started burning with a liquid heat, my ass muscles clenched, then I shot load after load into his eager sucking lips. He drank my offering greedily, making happy moaning noises as he did. When I was done, and his mouth still, he sat up and wiped his face with a huge smile.

“Wow, what a meal,” he said happily. “I really enjoyed that. What about you?”

“Oh hell yes,” I said dreamily as my eyes went back to the movie, still playing on the wall. It suddenly flickered and turned white. He turned off the projector and sat on the couch beside me.

“The bathroom is down there if you want to get cleaned up,” he pointed down the hallway. “I’ll put in a new movie and make us some more drinks.”

I washed quickly and rinsed out my underwear. At a loss, I hung them over the shower rod, not knowing if I would be around when they dried. I came out to see Tom washing his face and drying it on a handful of paper towels.

“Your cum was really sweet,” he said matter-of-factly. “You haven’t had sex for a while.

I was amazed that he could tell that from the taste of my cum, but he was the expert. I noticed that such talk was getting me hard again. That was probably why he talked that way, to get me hard. He was right, I have never had sex on a regular basis. I just got lucky a few times.

“Have you ever seen lesbians?” he asked, handing me my drink.

“I don’t think so,” I didn’t want to admit that I didn’t know what a lesbian was.

“Here, let’s try this one. It’s a little gross, so if it turns your stomach, just turn away.”

I was excited now, I was going to see a gross dirty movie. I nodded wisely and drank half of my drink. Two girls came on the screen, his wall, met at a doorway and kissed. I felt my dick throb instantly. I have never seen two girls kiss, this was incredible. They went inside and began stripping each other. I was starting to wonder if lesbians meant two women having sex with each other, but decided I couldn’t be that lucky. I was wrong, they fell on the couch, kissed naked for a while, then one girl began kissing the other’s tits. I was mesmerized. I don’t know how long Tom had been playing with my dick through my pants before I noticed. An amazing idea struck me. Maybe I could grab Tom’s dick and hold it in my hand. After all, after what he’d done to me, I was sure he wouldn’t object.

The first girl leaned back and opened her legs. I had an excellent shot of her pussy. The second girl got down on her knees turned her head sideways and put her mouth on the first girl’s cunt. I couldn’t believe it, it was just too much stimulation for a country boy just off the farm.

My right hand gently reached out and touched Tom’s leg. He didn’t yell so I slid my hand back and found his throbbing cock. Shit, it was much bigger than mine. It was huge. I felt his cock through the material of his pants. In a moment he leaned back and began unbuckling his jeans. He slid them down and sat in his boxer shorts with a drink in one hand, and my dick in the other. I couldn’t believe we were sitting on the couch, watching two women eating pussy, and feeling each other’s dicks. What could be better?

“Why don’t we go into the bedroom?” he asked quietly. “We can do a lot more there.”

I didn’t know what a lot more was, but I was willing to find out. If it was anything like the blowjob, I was all for it. I stood instantly and followed him down the hallway. I found a massage table, something I was very familiar with, in the middle of his bedroom. That was the only bed there. No wonder he slept on the couch.

“I… I’d like to try you,” I said in the most nervous voice I had ever heard. I couldn’t believe it was my voice.

“Great. Have you ever heard of a 69?”

“No,” I admitted with some shame.

“I will lay on my back,” he said, climbing up on the table, “and you get on your hands and knees with your dick over my mouth.”

I pictured it in my mind from several different angles, before I realized what he wanted and climbed on the table above him. I found myself facing an 8 inch uncircumcised cock. Before I knew what was happening, he pulled me down so I was laying on top of him and my dick was down his throat.

The intense pleasure sent fire through my body. The intense pleasure also made me much braver. Taking the huge dick in my hand I rubbed it gently, then bent down so my mouth was a fraction of an inch above it. I could smell a manly smell coming from his dick and balls. It wasn’t bad, but not exactly good either. It was just different. I placed the tip of his dick in my mouth and began bobbing up and down on it. I wasn’t as good as he was, even though I tried to remember what he had done to me. He was doing something completely different now, kind of mouthing and swallowing my dick, both at the same time. The feeling was not so intense, but it was building to a terrific fire in my loins. At that point I would have done anything. He suddenly grabbed the cheeks of my ass in both hands and began pulling me onto his mouth, then lifting my ass away in a grip of steal.

The pleasure was just too much to take. I tried to keep bobbing up and down on his soft, warm dick, but I couldn’t concentrate. Before I knew it I was filling his mouth with my warm, sticky cum again and he was drinking it down like a rich cream. All too quickly I was finished, and I suddenly didn’t want to suck his dick any more, it felt disgusting in my mouth.

Either he sensed my dilemma or wanted something better. Either way he urged me up and slid out from under me, allowing me to lay face down on the table.

“This will feel incredible,” he said enthusiastically. “First I have to grease you up. Get ready, it’s a little cold,” he said with a chuckle. I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, but I suddenly felt something cold on my asshole. I gasped and hunched up. I heard him laugh behind me.

“That’s the icky part, now comes to good part,” he said, climbing up on the table.

“You’re going to fuck me?” I asked in sudden interest. I was sure I would like it.

“I sure am. If I hurt you just tell me. Sometimes it takes a while to open up all the way.”

I didn’t say anything. I felt his dick at the entrance to my asshole and I laid my face on my hands and closed my eyes, waiting. It pressed hard and suddenly slid inside my ass. I gasped and my head sprang up so I could look behind me. It was the kinkiest thing I had ever seen.

It did feel good, but a little strange. I felt like I had to take a shit, but I also felt hot in a way I had never felt before. His huge cock began a slow, relentless slide into my ass. I love every hot inch of his cock and could feel it all the way to my stomach. My dick was again having a raging hard-on. His dick suddenly hurt as it seemed to come up against something hard. I didn’t need to say anything, he stopped on his own and began slowing pumping in and out of my ass. What heat! What feeling! I was getting intense pleasure from places I had never felt before. This felt really good.

As he pumped harder and faster, now putting the full length of his dick up my ass, I felt the fire growing hotter and deeper. I wondered if I could come like a woman. I asked him between panting breaths and he assured me that I could. I waited, feeling the satisfying slap of his hips against my ass. His dick in my ass was wonderful. I waited expectantly for my orgasm, but to my intense disappointment I heard him gasping, stiffening on my back and his cock was suddenly shooting a hot liquid into my quivering ass.

As he mashed his cock into my ass, my own cock was being mashed into the sheet and leather of the massage table. I desperately needed relief for a record third time in less than two hours. He gasped and wilted on my back. I was wondering if I could fuck his ass to get relief, but when I asked he gave me a tired smile and handed me a rubber. I took it, looked up at him in confusion, and he told me to put it on, rubbers gave a terrific hand-job. When I didn’t move fast enough he tore the package, rolled the rubber down my dick, and began stroking my dick in his strong hand. I leaned back against the table with my eyes closed. It took only a moment for my balls to begin churning, my ass muscles clenched and my cock shot cum into the rubber in Tom’s hand. He milked it until my cock stopped spurting, then pulled off the rubber and tossed it into the trash.

“There, now if you would like to get cleaned up, I’ll drop you off at your barracks, if you want.”

Stunned at the suddenness of his proposition, I realized that I didn’t want to be seen with him by my buddies, and I sure didn’t want him to know where I lived. I could just imagine him showing up at the front door and asking me out.

“Uh, if you could take me back to the bus stop, I’d rather do that. I’m supposed to meet my buddies there,” I lied. He smiled knowingly and waited for me to take a shit, clean up and redress. I found my underwear still wet. He saw my dilemma and offered me a paper bag, which I took gratefully and bundled up my shorts. I wasn’t about to throw them away, we didn’t have many clothes on the farm and everything we did have was precious to us.

He ran me back to the bus stop and to my horror I saw several of my buddies standing there as we pulled up. I climbed out and waved, then turned to face the music.

“Who’s that?” Clark asked curiously.

“Drug dealer,” I whispered. “He’s got some good shit but I’m broke. I’ll see him later in the month.”

Clark nodded and that ended one of the most amazing days of my life. I never saw Tom again, although I wouldn’t have minded once in a while when I was really hard up. I guess he was just out looking for cherries.

Thanks Tom, wherever you are now. As they say, “I needed that”.

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I was an English major when I was in college. My particular focus of study was Victorian literature. I
enjoyed it, I did well, and eventually I graduated with honors. I would spend almost every evening pouring
over the delicious words of Oscar Wilde, Coleridge or Tennyson. Such linguistic genius! I studied hard and
attracted the attention of my professors, who, when I was a senior, asked if I would help the department by
tutoring some of the freshmen who were having difficulty with the introductory lit classes.

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It was one afternoon in the lab that I was discussing Eco’s theory of Semiotics with a grad student that I
first noticed Lauren. She was standing just in front of my desk, waiting for my conversation to end, looking
like she wanted to ask me a question. She was an attractive girl: a lithely build with small, graceful breasts
underneath a round face with a tiny pert mouth and beautiful blue eyes. Her hair was a dark red, surely
artificial, curly, and pulled back in a tight pony-tail.

I dismissed the graduate student, introduced myself to the stranger, and asked her how I could help her. She
introduced herself as Lauren and said that she was having problems deciphering the language of Hamlet.
She found Shakespeare’s dialogue convoluted and difficult to understand.

I helped her as best I could. She leaned over my body as I pointed to different passages in the text,
explaining that Shakespeare had to be read in the context of the iambic pentameter and that sentence
structure had to be manipulated to conform to the organization of the line. Her tiny breasts brushed against
my shoulder. I began to moisten between my legs as I wondered why she was standing so close to me.

I finished my explanation and turned to look at her. She smiled back at me. I was tingling all over when I
said that if she had any more trouble, she could call me at my apartment. She got out a pen and wrote my
phone number on the inside of the front cover.

That night I told my boyfriend, Clark, about my encounter with Lauren. He kidded me about my
fascination with the girl. He was excited as well, as he always is when I talk to him of my attraction to
other women.

It was after dinner when she called. I was reading, as usual. Clark was watching TV. Lauren asked if it
would be all right to come over the next day; she was having problems and wanted my help. I responded by
inviting her to dinner with Clark and myself. She agreed, but only if she could bring her boyfriend Bryant. I
told her it was fine with me and gave her directions to my apartment.

The next evening at just before 7 p.m., Lauren and Bryant knocked on my door. I invited them in and we all
sat down to eat. Clark and Bryant hit it off immediately: they were both big football fans and quickly began
talking about this team and that, this player and that. After dinner, the two of them watched whatever was
on ESPN while Lauren and I retreated to my bedroom with her books to study.

We closed the door behind us and sat down on the bed. Lauren pulled out her copy of Hamlet and the two
of us began going through it passage by passage. I grew more and more aroused with her sitting next to me.
Her scent was intoxicating, and it was all I could do not to fling the book to the floor and attack her. I found
it hard to concentrate, the words on the page danced in front of my eyes, and my breath came in short
shallow pants. I turned to look at her, to see if she understood the particular soliloquy we were discussing
when I was caught by her eyes. I stopped talking mid-sentence and merely stared into the depth of the blue
dots before me. She smiled, took the book off my lap and placed it on my nightstand. Then she moved
forward to kiss me.

Our lips touched and fireworks exploded in my head. I was drunk with her; my mouth yielded to hers. Our
lips parted and our tongues quickly found each other. She put her arms around me, drawing me closer to
her body. My hands slipped around her waist and held her.

There was a brief rap at the door and Lauren and I quickly broke our embrace. We smoothed out our
clothes and I called out, asking who was at the door. Clark said that it was him and I told him to come in.
He opened the door upon what I hoped was a platonic image of myself and Lauren studying. He said he just
wanted to check up on us and asked if we needed anything. I said we were OK. He nodded and bent over to
kiss my ear. As he did, he whispered that my hair was a mess and that there was lipstick all over my face.

He stood back up, smiled at me and Lauren and returned to the front room. As soon as he closed the door
behind him, Lauren and I were in each other’s arms, kissing passionately. I couldn’t hold myself back, and
I quickly pulled her T-shirt over her head. I wasn’t surprised to see that she wasn’t wearing a bra. I groped
at her breasts while I began kissing and licking her nipples. She sighed and lay back onto the bed, pulling
me on top of her.

I undid her jeans and tossed them to the floor. I removed her underwear and threw them onto her crumpled
jeans. Her long lean body lay on my bed, beautiful and inviting. She took my head in her hands and
directed me to the soft downy hair between her legs. I kissed the top of her folds and spread her lips,
pushing my tongue inside of her. As I pushed into her, her hands pulled tightly at my hair. It was though
she was trying to pull my entire head inside of her. I kissed and kissed and kissed, moving from her
entrance up to her hard almond-shaped clitoris. I pulled the tip into my mouth and gently bit it. I held it
gently in my teeth and rubbed it vigorously with my tongue. Lauren began shuddering in orgasm. She held
me tightly against her and came.

Lauren then released my hair. I looked up from between her thighs and smiled at her and invited her to a
study session the next week. She looked down at me and agreed.

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Nataly is a very sexy teen girl who gets off by fucking older guys. She usually teases but when she goes to the doctors he examines her really well. And even takes her temperature with his cock.

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Great things come in small packages as this short video proves! The guy who sent me this video tape will remain nameless but he said he shot it while standing on the balcony of his apartment building. He had been eyeing this girl for weeks and as he was walking by he glanced in and BAM! There she was trying on different bras. Thank GOD for cameras and good luck he had his. Enjoy this hot teen while she unknowingly shows off her incredible body to our unblinking spycam's eye

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She is some weird white hoe. Her cock sucking skills, though, has endeared her to a lot of well-hung studs. Cara only takes donkeycock nowadays. Her pussy's so loose smaller cocks would slip off.

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Meet Fiona. Fiona’s a sweet teen cutie, but this girl has a wild side. Fiona likes to wear lingerie, especially stockings and pantyhose. She says wearing lingerie just makes her feel so much more sexy. She’s definitely noticed that when she’s wearing lingerie her boy toys definitely notice. Today, Fiona is wearing a sexy white corset, matching panties and long thigh high stockings. I wouldn’t mind having her wrap those nylon covered legs around me as I climbed into her bed.

You can see Fiona’s photos at Bitches N Hose. Bitches N Hose is a pantyhose and stocking fetish site. The site is filled with hardcore and softcore videos of the hottest teens and amateur babes in sexy leg wear. Come watch all this pantyhose and stocking action.

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Mitch had often been at the brunt end of every cable guy joke ever known to man, but his friends didn’t know the real horror of being a cable guy with the nicest ass in town. Bored housewives. If Mitch had to fight off one more bored, lonely housewife, he swore he’d quit his job and push brooms in the streets.

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Another day and another 6 housecalls, Mitch prepared himself for the obligatory old lady who thought he was just the cutest thing they ever did see. Mitch breathed deep as he rang the bell at 67 Newbridge, then looked up as the door opened.

This was no old hag, Mitch realized, this was one perfectly sculpted man in a pair of snug fitting briefs.

“Cable down?” Mitch asked coolly.

“Yeah, out back,” the stranger answered with a smile, “I’ll show you where the lines fell.”

Mitch walked around the house to meet the customer in the back yard, cursing to himself the whole way since 98% of problems are inside the house, but just his luck this one was outside.

“Up there,” the man pointed to the house, “I think squirrels took it out, I’m not really sure.”

“Alright,” Mitch answered, “Not a problem.”

Mitch got the extension ladder out of the truck and made his way toward the roofline cables. As he got closer, Mitch could see that the wires weren’t nibbled on, but cleanly cut with something sharp. Odd, he thought, for a neighborhood prank, but diligently replaced the broken connection.

It was a brutally hot afternoon, so Mitch took his safety helmet off in order to wipe the beads of sweat from his forehead. As he looked down, he noticed an extension ladder lying in the shrubs. He wondered if the customer knew he’d left his ladder there. Then it clicked. This guy cut the wires! Almost simultaneously, Mitch realized the buff man was standing at the back door watching him. Mitch felt a twinge in his shorts, and he hurried to fix the wires. Within a few minutes, he was done and he climbed back down the ladder. The man came out to greet him.

“Done already?” he asked.

“Yeah, it was a pretty clean switch,” Mitch replied while drying his forehead with the shirt covering his biceps.

“Man, it’s hot out today, let me get you something to drink.”

Mitch followed the man inside, took his tool belt and helmet off and rested them on the kitchen breakfast bar. The stranger asked if cola was okay, and Mitch agreed.

“You know that wire was cut, don’t you?” Mitch asked between sips.

“Yeah, I know. I cut it myself.”

Mitch barely rested his glass on the counter when this man practically lifted him from his seat and pressed him against the dining room wall. With one hand pressed in the middle of Mitch’s back, the man unbuttoned Mitch’s jeans, and yanked them down around his ankles. Mitch’s dick grew hard, fast. He felt it press against the wall he was pinned against and reached down to free it up a little.

The stranger grabbed Mitch’s hand and pulled his arm around behind his back, and now Mitch’s cock was throbbing. This was sooooooo much better than a hag in her tennis clothes.

Mitch felt a warm fluid slowly roll down his back, but he couldn’t budge under the man’s grip to turn and see what it was. As the stranger spread Mitch’s ass open, he felt the warm liquid roll over his asshole. The man massaged the oily substance around the rim of Mitch’s hole, slipping the tip of his thick finger in and out, then burying the length of his finger deep inside Mitch. Mitch’s back arched involuntarily and the stranger breathed in his ear, “I knew you’d find this housecall a pleasant one.”

The man pressed his cock against Mitch’s asshole, sliding it up and down in his crack, greasing the entire shaft with the oils he poured down Mitch’s back. Then, in one powerful, hole splitting thrust, he buried his entire cock in Mitch. Still unable to move, Mitch just took it, and loved it. Mitch’s dick ached now as it was trapped between his body and the wall he was shoved against, and the pain was maddening, yet he didn’t say a word. He knew his customer was in control, and quite frankly, he was afraid he’d stop fucking him if he complained. Almost as if the man read Mitch’s mind, he slipped a hand in and pulled Mitch’s dick downward, giving it a little free space.

Mitch’s eyes were shut tight as this man furiously fucked him. Every hard jab lifting Mitch to his toes, and every slam against his ass sending a wave of electricity through his helpless body. This went on for about 15 minutes, and Mitch couldn’t believe the stamina and strength this guy possessed. His ass had never been reamed so hard. Then, suddenly, Mitch found himself on the floor, face to face with the muscular stranger, and his ankles up around his ears.

“You have the tightest ass I’ve ever fucked,” the stranger hissed, “I’m gonna show you what it’s like to have a real man fuck you like a real man.”

His eyes were steely, his body beaded with sweat, and his dick was still as hard as it was 5 minutes ago. Staring down at Mitch, pinning his ankles to the floor, the guy continued to fuck Mitch with reckless abandon. Mitch’s eyes rolled back in his head and he started to jerk himself off. His own body drenched in sweat now, he could feel his asshole stretching wider with every forceful inward fuck. He could hear the stranger’s hips smacking against his prone ass and Mitch jerked himself even harder.

Then he could feel it, the warm spurts of hot juice in his ass, Mitch didn’t know whether to cry or moan, he didn’t want it to stop! He felt his own wad surging, then spurting and he aimed his cock for the stranger’s face. Mitch opened his eyes to see his jism streaming down the customer’s face, and with satisfaction, Mitch laid his head back.

When the man was finished fucking Mitch, he got up, left Mitch on the floor and walked into another room. Mitch pulled his jeans up and put his tool belt back on. He left a bill on the counter, put his ladder back in the truck and hoped the squirrels became a routine nuisance.

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Meet Kinzie, so sweet, so innocent, so naughty? Yeah, this blonde teen isn't as sweet and innocent as her coworker think she is. I got to meet the real Kinzie and I wasn't disappointed at all. I'll admit, when I first met Kinzie, she seemed pretty boring. She was dressed a little sexy in a cute little secretary outfit, but she was so into her work that it was a turn off. However, I was fortunate to stop by her office more than a few times and got to know the other side of Kinzie. Eventually, I was able to get her to pose in her secretary clothes for Uniform Desire. Click here to see the photos of Kinzie. Right on her desk, she strips out of her clothes and shows off all of her tight teen body. She definitely has a body made for having sex. She even took out a dildo that was hidden in her purse. She ends up attaching it to her desk and riding it like it was a hard cock. It was one of the hottest things I've ever seen a secretary do.

Click here to see more of Kinzie and more naughty secretaries at Uniform Desire.

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Yes, the girls at HelenVolga.com are REAL amateurs! These girls are exactly the type of girls you could see walking down the street. This fun loving babe thought it would be great to show off how good she looks in the buff! Her shaved head may intimidate a lot of guys but her asymmetrical tits and tasty looking pussy are sure to give you a big hard on. Check out everything she has done for us at HelenVolga.com

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Oh, maria is one sizzling mama. No wonder ever guy she's sucked wanted to marry her right away ans so did I, but Maria won't have none of it. She likes a different cock every time, and I guess a man has to enjoy his luck as long as it lasts.

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Miss 31 was a scrumptious morsel….through our online conversations she had professed her fantasy for a stranger sneaking into her room, but additionally I had found out how much she liked to have someone go down on her.She had a nearly perfect body and I could not resist sampling her love juices…yummy..I left her a sample of my appreciation at the end also!!

Check out Jane Doe 30's Videos Night Invasion!

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It’s odd to be sitting here in the Florida sunshine as a great grandmother and to remember that I never even met my first American until I was almost eighteen. That was when the big war was being fought in Europe. I’m an old, old lady now but I still remember that windy April afternoon when I ran an errand to Mill Cottage and everything that happened to me there.

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My home was in a small rural village in England and I was waiting to be drafted by the government for work in a munitions factory. It was something I was looking forward to because most of the factories were in the cities, and I’d never been to a city. My father was a farm laborer who’d spent his entire life in our village. The only break in his dawn to dusk chores was when he acted as warden in the village church every Sunday. Perhaps it was because he was such a well respected member of the Vicar’s flock that I became a Sunday School teacher. Not that I minded, as there was very little else to do while I waited to be sent away. There were no more dances, no more church socials, not with all the young men away fighting Hitler and all the older people having to work twice as hard to keep things going. The village had become a stagnant little backwater and now even my girl friends were leaving to help make tanks and shells.

I sometimes wonder how long it would have taken me to wake up to real life if I hadn’t run that errand for the Vicar. Anyway, I did, and Mill Cottage turned out to be an instant education by courtesy of our American allies and a pair of English courtesans. And all because the Vicar wanted to ingratiate himself with Mrs Harrington by sending her a bottle of home made dandelion wine!

Mrs Harrington wasn’t a villager at all, nor her friend who lived with her, Mrs Walsh. They were a couple of snobby upper class London wives who’d only moved to the countryside to escape the blitz. They were far richer and more sophisticated than any of us, they wore fancy clothes, their children were in private boarding schools and their husbands were stockbrokers or something. Whatever they did for a living, Mr Harrington and Mr Walsh only came down about once a month to visit their wives. I think perhaps they were quite enjoying the war as temporary bachelors. Mrs Harrington and Mrs Walsh, on the other hand, were clearly pining for London and were only kept away by fear of the bombing. Which all seemed like good reasons to me why they didn’t deserve anything as a gift, not even a bottle of dandelion wine. Another good reason was that I was the one who was going to have to pedal out with it to their home at Mill Cottage, three miles away from the village.

Transport was always a problem in the war. Very few people owned cars, and in any case civilian fuel supplies were so tightly rationed there was none to spare except for the most necessary journeys, so anybody with a bicycle and a pair of strong young legs was always being asked to run errands. Mostly I didn’t mind, but I knew just as well as the Vicar that the only reason he was asking me to run this errand was to curry favor with our local ladies of substance. Perhaps he was hoping there might be a handsome subscription from them eventually for his church restoration fund. Yet, young and naive as I was, I didn’t think he had much chance of getting any cash from either of those two, no matter how deep their purses. Not that I knew anymore about them than the local gossip, though there was plenty of that.

In a village as small as mine a couple of women living on their own caused a lot of loose talk, most of it nonsense, I thought. They were good looking women though, that was true enough. They were much of an age, in their early thirties I suppose. Mrs Harrington had brilliant red hair, which she let grow in a long pony tail all the way down to her waist and always wore rather flamboyant earrings. She was tall and trim and apparently played tennis and golf very well. The dashing air of self confidence in the way she walked around the village always had the men looking after her swishing skirt and the long legs underneath it. As for Mrs Walsh, she was a little shorter and full figured who wore her blonde hair in a high combed style. Both of them dressed like models, even in wartime, right down to nylon stockings, an almost unheard of luxury then. Perhaps there was some truth in those rumors about fancy cars belonging to black market crooks being seen parked near the cottage.

Which was really why I decided to deliver that lousy bottle of wine. Because I was curious about whether anything out of the ordinary did go on at Mill Cottage. Not that I was likely to be any the wiser after I’d been there of course, but at least it was an excuse to go and knock on the door. The back door, of course. I knew the ladies wouldn’t want a farm worker’s daughter knocking on their front door as if I was their social equal.

Having decided to do the job, I found myself heading out of the village on a blowy April afternoon with tree branches flouncing around in a cold wind which was blowing straight into my face. By the time I got to Mill Cottage I was so fed up with the whole stupid business that I just wanted to turn around and get an easy ride home before the wind changed direction. I wheeled my bike down the small gravel drive at the side of the cottage and then stopped in surprise at what I saw.

Parked up behind the cottage, completely out of sight of the road, was a small car quite unlike anything I’d ever seen before. It was square at the front and back, painted olive green, with a raised canvas hood and a long radio aerial sticking up at the back. Obviously it was a military vehicle of some kind. There were white stars on the sides and I realised it must belong to the American army. Apart from anything else the steering wheel was on the wrong side. Then I remembered a picture I’d seen in the newspaper, with General Montgomery riding in a car that looked like this. A joop, or a jeep, or something like that was what it had been called. I didn’t know anything about American cars. In fact I didn’t know anything at all about Americans, except from what I’d seen on the films and newsreels at the cinema. All I’d ever seen of them in real life were a few big planes flying overhead with these same white star badges on the wings.

Of course I was very curious about what the joop was doing at Mill Cottage. A large metal box with yellow lettering and numbers on it was wedged in between the two front seats. I thought perhaps it might contain bullets, which seemed even more likely when I saw that the lid was closed with a padlock. Then I took a second look and realized that the hasp was hanging free. Anybody who wanted to could lift up the lid and look inside the box.

There was nobody in the back yard, nobody at the closed back door, no flutter of movement at any of the cottage’s curtains. All that was needed was for me to lean inside and flick open the top of the box, and if anybody came out I could say I was just wanted to see the inside of the joop. So I leaned in and opened the lid, to find that what I was prying into was a treasure chest of off-the-ration luxuries.There were packets and packets of cigarettes in strange soft packets which had a picture of a camel on them. I wondered why, because I didn’t think there were any camels in America - I’d never seen any on the films, anyway, There were bars of chocolate, there were jars of coffee, there were the protruding necks of four bottles.

I lifted one of them out far enough to read the label - genuine Haig whiskey! So much for the Vicar’s dandelion wine as a home front comfort. Yet the most impressive thing of all to me were the cellophane wrappings with nylon stockings in them. Now I knew how Mrs Harrington and Mrs Walsh were able to wear real nylons whilst the rest of us had to make do with seams painted on the backs of our legs! And perhaps the three boxes of contraceptive sheaths mixed in amongst all these luxury goods supplied a clue as to why they were getting such treats.

Of course, even in my remote little village, we’d heard stories about how US serviceman were incredibly rich, with access to all kinds of fancy supplies, and how successful they’d been in spreading them out amongst the lower sort of girls in return for. . . well, in return. But this was the home of two respectable married women. It couldn’t be that they were playing fast and loose with the Yanks, surely?

And just as I was turning that question over in my mind I heard a woman laugh from somewhere nearby. Bewildered, I looked around and realised that the sound come from the wash house on the other side of the small yard. Smoke was rising out of the chimney, which suddenly seemed very odd, because I knew that Mrs Harrington and Mrs Walsh had a woman come in on every Monday to do their washing and that day wasn’t a Monday.

This is were I have to give everybody a little bit of an history lesson in how domestic chores were done in the old days. Before electricity and washing machines came along the usual thing in most English houses was to do the laundry in a ‘copper’. A copper was a very large circular sink - made of copper coated metal - big enough to hold a week’s houshold laundry together with several gallons of water. Coppers were usually built into the top of a large square brick fireplace about waist height. Except in the larger houses it was always put into an outside building, with a hand operated water pump next to it. The housewife’s job was to keep working the handle on the pump to fill the copper up with water, with occasional breaks to tend to the fire underneath it, until the copper was half full and the water as hot as possible. Then the dirty laundry went in and the whole lot was stirred around many times until it was considered washed. Afterwards it was taken out and everything rinsed in a wooden cask. And after that - well, I’ll tell you about those arrangements by and by. Anyway, the one thing you didn’t usually hear in a washouse was anybody laughing - there was too much hard work done in them for that. So I found it hard to believe our two high society ladies could be doing their own laundry, and even harder to believe they could be enjoying it.

The wash house door was closed. Of course, normally, if I’d have just opened it and walked in, because it wasn’t like going into a house uninvited. Most wash houses were usually shared by several houses anyway. This time though I could justify it to myself to be rather cautious, as Mill Cottage already seemed to have a guest, or guests. I was therefore perfectly entitled to take a cautious peek through one of the wash house windows before I disturbed anybody. At least that was what I told myself as I sought a way to satisfy my burning interest about what was going on in the place. So I walked around the small building until I found a small window misted up on the inside. So misted up that it was impossible to see through.

It was an infuriating situation because it was clearly the only window in the wash house and it was ideally situated, on the far side from the cottage and facing a high hedge row at the back of the cottage garden. Nobody could see me standing there, but I couldn’t see anything either. If it had been an ordinary sort of window the situation would have stayed like that. Only it wasn’t an ordinary sort of window, it was one of the old fashioned type made of lots of small diamond shaped panes of glass set in lead strips. Old fashioned and flimsy, and one of the panes near the top of the window had been knocked out. If only I could just lift myself up a foot or so …

Looking around, I saw several old bricks at the bottom of the wall, stacked together and almost completely hidden from sight by overgrowing grass and nettles. I plucked out three of the bricks, carefully, but still got stung on the wrist by a nettle in my hurry. With the bricks put back on top of each other and with my right foot resting on the top one I was able to lift myself up high enough to put my eye to the gap in the window.

The copper was set in the very middle of the wash house. A steady fire was burning in the grate underneath the copper, with a gently rising cloud of steam above it, and a considerable pile of firewood still waiting to be used. There was a table, a plain old wooden table, near to the fireplace. On the table was a naked man.

Well, naked except for a green towel draped over his bottom as he lay on his stomach on top of the table. On top of the table and on top of some more towels which had been spread across it like table clothes. His hands were resting near his head, the bent arms showing great bulges of muscle on the upper biceps. His face was turned away from me but it was easy to see that he was in the prime of life and physical condition, at least six feet tall, and heavily tanned from the sun in a very un-English way. Another alien thing was the way his black hair had been cut right down almost to his skull, top and sides.

If I was astonished by the sight of the American, as I supposed he must be, I was even more astonished at seeing a woman leaning over him, rubbing her palms over his shoulders and neck muscles. It was Mrs Harrington, smiling as I’d never seen her smile before, Mrs Harrington wearing a white bed sheet wrapped around her like a Dorothy Lamour sarong, and the sheet so damp it seemed to be sticking to her like a second skin. In fact it was obvious she had nothing on underneath the sheet at all!

This was like something the Vicar often preached about in church, about Soddom and Gomorah and all the world’s wickedness. And here in his own parish, a married woman indecently dressed was putting her hands on another man! Yet if I was shocked I was fascinated by the scene, scarcely daring to breathe. Even better was to come though, because Mrs Walsh came around the copper carrying a tray in her hands, a rectangular wooden tray with one small drinking glass on it. Incredibly, she was wearing nothing but a sheet as well, a blue one this time. The only thing which seemed to be holding it up over her breasts was a clothes peg visible in the quivering cleavage between them.

The next thing that happened, astonishingly, was the sight of Mrs Walsh getting down on both her knees at the head of the table and holding the tray up to the man as if she was acting the role of a slave girl! He laughed and said something to Mrs Walsh I couldn’t catch, but she stood up again. In response he raised his other hand and my eyes bulged when I saw the huge shiny pistol in it. I’d never seen one before in my life except in gangster films. The Yank pointed the pistol at Mrs Walsh and she stood still. Then he said something else and Mrs Harrington took her hands off his shoulders and walked around behind Mrs Walsh. Then, and not believing it possible, I saw her reach up in front of her her friend and pull the clothes peg free, letting the sheet slide down over Mrs Walsh until she was standing in front of the man completely naked from the waist up!

Mrs Walsh held the tray underneath her well shaped breasts and gently lifted them up on it with the glass carefully balanced between the pale skinned mounds. She was watching the American as if unsure of his reactions. In the meantime Mrs Harrington stood there grinning, holding the blue sheet around the other woman’s waist. Then she let it fall down to the floor and Mrs Walsh was standing there without a stitch on. If somebody had fired off a shot gun directly behind me at that moment I don’t think I would even have turned my head. Yet this was still only the beginning.

Mrs Walsh slowly knelt down in front of the Yank again, being very careful not to spill the glass. Without any hurry at all he put down the gun on the table, reached out with his thumbs and forefingers and brazenly tweaked both of Mrs Walsh’s bared nipples jutting out over the edge of the tray!

Her hands were trembling. I knew they were because the tray was, and I knew the tray was trembling because both of the breasts piled up on top of it were quivering like newly set jellies. Mrs Walsh was staring down at her own vibrations and at the fingers playing on her with a kind of pursed mouthed concentration, apparently determined on keeping the glass from spilling over. As for Mrs Harrington she leaned forward over her friend and squeezed the Yank’s biceps as if to encourage him. Then I saw her bend forward a little closer as though he was telling her to do something. She nodded, smiled again, reached down with an extended finger between her companion’s breasts and apparently dipped it into the glass. Then the Yank released his grip on Mrs Walsh and Mrs Harrington immediately applied her long fingernail to the very same places, apparently smearing each of her friend’s nipples with a drop of liquid from the glass.

Talk about exciting! I was watching all this in complete disbelief. I saw Mrs Walsh wriggle further forward on her knees and lift the tray higher towards the Yank’s face. He had the pistol in his hand again and pointed it down towards her legs. Then he leaned forward and started to lick on each of the nipples in turn as Mrs Walsh apparently struggled to keep the tray level, struggling even more as the man slid further forward yet on the table and took a mouthful of her right tit into his opened mouth. The tray began quivering again and Mrs Walsh surprised me by suddenly laughing out aloud in the same way as I had first heard outside.

My impression was that the pistol wasn’t a real threat, more a kind of symbol of power. Neither of the women seemed to be in real fear, I was sure of that. They were playing out roles which they were willing to do and the gun was there as a kind of stage prop. Whatever was going on there was no doubt that both of them seemed totally unabashed in doing whatever the Yank wanted them to. It also seemed just as certain that one or both of them were soon going to get treated in the same way as married women were treated all the time. I certainly hoped so because I really wanted to watch that! I was also hoping that it wouldn’t be long before it happened because my eye was watering already with squinting through the small hole and my right ankle was aching from balancing awkwardly on the bricks. Still, it was well worth it because now Mrs Walsh had put down the tray and was holding each of her nipples in turn up to the Yank’s mouth, dribbling a few drops from the glass onto herself each time, apparently as a way of encouraging him to keep on sucking both of the jutting tips.

It was simply so obvious how excited she was, obvious not only because her teats were sticking out so much, but by the way she was offering them to him with an almost abject eagerness to please, as if she was a puppy lying on her back surrendering to the authority of the pack leader. When I remembered how the pair of them strutted around the village with their noses in the air - well, I would have given a fortune to have some kind of a magic crystal ball or television set at home which would show this scene over and over again. Not that I’d ever seen a television set, of course, but I had once met a man who said he’d watched one in London before the war.

Soon there was something better to see than any television. Mrs Harrington went back to the side of the table, where she had been before, on the opposite side of it to the window I was looking through. She calmly reached down and pulled the towel off the man’s bottom. As she was neatly folding it I stared at the sight, the paler rounds of flesh in the middle of the long stretches of well tanned skin. Then she put her hands on each of the taut buttocks and stroked them with her palms, just as she had done to his shoulders. The Yank stirred and moved around, then apparently lost interest in Mrs Walsh’s bosom, glancing back and lifting his bottom up an inch or so off the table. The reason why was probably because Mrs Harrington’s right hand had slid out of sight, down between the top of the legs, and the only place those long fingernails could be now was around his balls. It was like getting a bull aroused for a tupping session with a cow.

Mrs Walsh got up and walked around the table on my side, still stark naked and blocking my view of what was happening but apparently helping her friend in her work. Mrs Harrington stepped back and pulled down the top of her white sheet, revealing exactly what I expected to see: nothing but bare skin. Her breasts were a lot smaller than Mrs Walsh’s were, and she winked and smiled at her friend and ran her hands over herself before she stepped up to the table again. Her nipples were browner and larger in proportion to the other woman’s but just as taut.

Then I saw the American’s face for the clearly for the first time as he rolled over on his back. He was very good looking, with a strong chin and a straight nose, like the cowboys we saw in Hollywood films at the cinema. Or perhaps I was put in that way of mind by the pistol he was still holding. Mrs Harrington looked at his face, down at what was in front of her and then back at the man as if she had some great satisfaction in what she was seeing. I couldn’t see much myself because Mrs Walsh was in the way, but it seemed as if they were both playing with him together, which surely, I thought, there couldn’t be room for. Mrs Harrington moved sideways a step or so, leaned forward over the American, rested her hands on the other side of the table and began rubbing herself over him with her breasts dragging to and fro against the mat of curly black hair on the man’s powerful chest. She seemed to be enjoying the feeling. He laughed and put his free hand round behind her. Mrs Harrington moaned loud enough for me to hear as she wriggled her bottom around under the man’s touch. His other hand and the pistol in it was still pointing towards Mrs Walsh.

She moved around to the end of the table and I gaped at what I could see now, the jutting length of maleness that stood up proudly from the American’s loins. Without the slightest hesitation Mrs Harrington reached out to her side and stroked his length from top to bottom, from tip to balls, as calmly as if she was polishing a church candlestick - which was about the length and size of it as well. It didn’t seem necessary to threaten the women with a pistol when he could point something like that at them. Mrs Harrington certainly seemed to be fascinated by it and in watching her companion lean forward between his legs, further and further forward until her face was between his thighs. And then Mrs Walsh put out her tongue and lapped at the side of the rampant horn nearest to her.

Mrs Harrington giggled at the sight, still clutching the top of the Yank’s cock. Then she slid further up his body and lowered her head to kiss him full on the lips as he kept on fondling her amongst the folds of the rucked up sheet. After that she moved back again in the other direction, her tongue running over his body hair, until she was face to face with her friend. Mrs Walsh was still licking the Yank’s cock and both of their tongues met as if by appointment on the very tip of his straining flesh.

As for me, by this stage I wouldn’t have blinked if Adolf Hitler had goose stepped in singing ‘There’ll Always Be An England’ - I was past being surprised by anything. Our two most stuck up ladies, our local snobs, bellies down over a Yank soldier doing things I’d heard of but hardly believed possible. Both of them playing the same pink piccolo at the same time and to the same tune! But who would ever believe me if I told them? Oh, this was going to be good!

It was. First of all Mrs Harrington went to the side of the copper and picked up a small packet she tore open with her teeth. As she came back she took out what was inside it and put on the tip of his policeman’s helmet. With a lot of laughing the two respectable married ladies helped each other unroll the rubber sheath down over the American’s rearing organ, stretching the rubber so tightly it glinted in the flickering light from the open fireplace. It was obvious from the way that the man was rubbing himself up and down against their hands that there was a pressure bursting up inside him he urgently needed to relieve.

The Yank suddenly jumped up, grabbed Mrs Harrington’s sheet and pulled it off her body with one hand, to show she was wearing no more underneath it than her friend had been. Then he grabbed her by her ponytail and bent her forward over the table, still holding her hair and pressing the pistol against the side of her head.

Mrs Walsh leaned forward and reached down between the two of them, apparently positioning his cock for the first lunge forward into Mrs Harrington. When he moved his prisoner screeched like a scalded cat and then much louder again as the Yank jerked against her, wedging Mrs Harrington on that massive piston and beginning to pound it into her like the driving rod on a steam locomotive. Now he was on his feet I could see he was a giant of a man, as wide across the shoulder as the village well, with cords of muscle on him like a blacksmith. Mrs Harrington seemed like a puppet against him as he jerked her backwards one handed, then rammed her foward again with his hips. Not that she wasn’t helping as much as she could in sliding up and down his long inches, her hands gripping the table’s edge with whitened knuckles as she squealed like a slaughtered pig.

I wondered what each of them was feeling. The man was enjoying himself tremendously, proud of showing what he could do and obviously enjoying every movement. I thought he looked like a footballer scoring a goal with every stroke. Mrs Harrington - well, she making so much noise it seemed it might be more of a pain than a pleasure for her, until I saw her face and knew she was getting something out of the act that she had to have. Not just pleasure but a necessary fulfilment - like a moth fluttering above a candle that’s scorching its wings yet desperate to get even closer. It was fascinating.

Meanwhile Mrs Walsh was stepping off a chair onto the table. She stepped over the top of her friend then knelt down on top of her. Mrs Walsh’s bottom pinned Mrs Harrington to the table top, her hands resting on the other woman’s shoulders as if to make sure she couldn’t move.

The American put down the pistol, reached around Mrs Walsh with his huge hands and seized both of the plump breasts that hung down as if they were ripe fruit ready for picking. She seemed to enjoy that well enough, but I could see what she couldn’t, Mrs Harrington’s petulant expression at being held still and suddenly deprived of the Yank’s full attention. She twisted her head around to the left and then to her right, calling him to keep on fucking her. Yes, that was the word she actually used, loud enough for me to hear her, and with her supposed to be so middle class and posh. The Yank grinned in great good humour, suddenly looking like a schoolboy stealing a slice of cake, and then answered her begging with several thrusting strokes so powerful that I was sure the table was shoved forward an inch or so, even with all the weight that was on it. Mrs Harrington beat her palms flat on the table and honked - it’s the only word, through her nose and sounding just like a angry goose as her earrings jangled.

The man’s right hand dropped down onto Mrs Harrington’s spine in front of Mrs Walsh, then slid back to the bush of hair that was the same colour as Mrs Walsh’s hair. The fingers moved between the two women, underneath Mrs Walsh and up into her. Her thigh muscles tensed and her fingernails clutched at her friends shoulders as if she was riding her like a jockey, though it was clear that the only riding Mrs Harrington was concerned with was the one she was getting from the Yank. And it was then, at that moment, that Mrs Walsh lifted up her head, looked at me and shouted out in anger.

It was one of these times that you can see what’s going on in somebody’s mind without any need for words or even signs. She was already gasping for breath, her face screwed up and ruddy cheeked as she concentrated on her pleasures, and then she was suddenly staring at me and trying to warn the other two. The problem for her was that neither of them were interested right then in anything she had to say. As for me, I couldn’t believe she’d been able to spot my eye with everything else that had been taking her attention. Only when I looked down at the window did I realise what had happened. The fire had burnt down, the water in the copper wasn’t quite so hot now and some of the mist on the window had disappeared. Not much, but enough for me to see the firelight through it - which must mean, I supposed, that the upper part of my body was silhouetted against the daylight. Which was how Mrs Walsh must have seen that somebody was watching them. The question now was what to do next.

There was total confusion in my mind about whether to run away or apologise for being there. Then I decided that I was being a fool for thinking that any sort of an apology would get me out of this situation. The only thing to do was to get away as soon as possible. But Mrs Walsh was a lot more quick witted than I was. She forced herself up and back and looked down to where the Yank had put his pistol on top of the table. She reached for it, picked it up and aimed it directly at the window I was looking through.

“Stay there!” I heard her shout.

The pistol was waving around a lot but her finger was on the trigger and the barrel looked as big as a milk churn as it was aimed straight at my eye. Until then I hadn’t had the faintest idea of how frightening it can be to have a gun aimed at you, especially when you don’t know if it’s loaded or not. And even more especially when the person holding the gun might really be angry enough to use it. So I did something I never thought I’d have to do in my life. I held my hands up over my head like a surrendering soldier. But in my shock at what was happening I’d stepped down off the bricks and lost my viewpoint through the latched window. I could hear through it though, a mingled bellow of male triumph and a higher pitched shriek of absolute pleasure. It seemed that Mrs Harrington had finally touched the flame with her wings and the Yank was also very happy about his own situation.

I was much less happy about mine. Staring at the window pane a few inches in front of my face I wondered whether I was still visible through the misty glass from the other side. Perhaps I could run off now, get on my bike and pedal like mad for home. On the other hand maybe Mrs Walsh could see my outline against the daylight outside and if she saw it moving she might pull that trigger. I was pretty certain that the pistol wasn’t loaded, and I was almost sure that she couldn’t be crazy enough to try to kill me even if it was, but somehow those two facts seemed to weigh very lightly against the memory of that big gun aimed straight at me.

There was more to it though. If I stayed there it was certain that I was going to meet the Yank. And even if I wasn’t as smart or as well to do as Mrs Walsh and Mrs Harrington, I was younger than they were and I didn’t think I was so bad looking. And to be honest, I couldn’t see that what they were doing for their luxuries was so bad, especially not with a man who looked like that. I suppose I was getting bored with being a dutiful bible imbiber and bored with living within the rules of village life. Truth to tell I’d just seen two women being treated like Chicago gangster’s molls and I envied them because it was the sort of mad moment which could never have happened in my life. Or at least I thought it couldn’t.

What did happen was that I suddenly found myself staring down the barrel of the pistol again, only without a window between me and it this time. And the reason for that was because the window had been pushed open and the man was standing in the frame, aiming the pistol straight at me.

“Who are you then, honey?” he asked me. He spoke very slowly, dragging the words out of his mouth as if he was pulling them out like strips of toffee. There was a deeper tone in that huge chest than I’d ever heard in anybody’s voice.

“Sarah Vandell - Sarah Vandell! I just came to deliver some wine, that’s all.”

“Oh God. It’s that bloody Sunday School teacher,” I heard Mrs Harrington say sharply. I couldn’t see her though, the Yank was completely filling the window space with his body.

“Wine?” He looked down at the bricks I’d piled up against the wall underneath the window. “You sure seem to go to a lot of trouble making your housecalls. Tell you what, young lady, why don’t you just step back up here where you where and tell us about yourself?”

“Please stop pointing that gun at me,” I protested. “It looks dangerous.”

He grinned, again looking for a second like a small boy: “Lady, in the army they always tell us that it’s the unloaded gun which kills people. This one is loaded and cocked and the safety catch is off, so it can’t possibly hurt you. Now just kindly come back where you where and then I’ll put the gun down.”

The wind seemed to be blowing even more strongly as I took a pace forward and put my weight on the brick pile again. Now I was looking directly into the Yank’s face. Dark skin, hooded eyes, high forehead, that convict style haircut, a glimpse of white teeth in sardonically smiling lips, a strange smell of sweat and - perfume? From Mrs Harrington or Mrs Walsh, or was it true what I’d heard, that American men splashed scent on their face after they’d shaved?

It wasn’t something I had time to think about. He did get rid of the pistol: he passed it to one of the women inside the wash house and immediately afterwards he put his hands underneath my armpits and lifted me off my feet as if I was a little girl. It was a tremendous surprise to be just hoisted and virtually dragged through the window - If it hadn’t been for the fact that I was wearing my long cycling skirt my knees would have been badly grazed on the window sill.

“Hi, honey, my name’s Reuben. I guess you know Harriet and Susan.”

Well, I didn’t, not by their Christian names, and I still didn’t know which one was which, nor did I care too much right then, because I was still being held up in his remarkably powerful hands with my toes just barely touching the paving stones. Above everything else I was acutely aware of the fact that I was about as close as I could be to a completely naked man

“Ladies, I think it’s time we turned the handle here”.

I didn’t have a clue as to what he was talking about though it was obvious from the smile on Mrs Harrington’s face that she did. As for Mrs Walsh, she moved as quickly as she could to the mangle standing near to the copper.

You remember I promised to explain about the washing after it had been rinsed? Well, a mangle was a heavy cast iron upright frame and in the top of the frame were two wooden rollers, each one twice as thick as my arm, with the wet laundry squeezed item by item between the rollers as they were turned by a handle on a big wheel. I guessed that was the handle the Yank was talking about.

Yes, Mrs Walsh already had her hands on the crank handle. I saw that before the Yank spun me round so the mangle was behind me. Then I felt the back of my skirt being plucked up. Straining my neck around, I saw that Mrs Harrington had lifted up the hem and was feeding it between the rollers as her friend cranked the handle around. The American laughed, let go of me and as more and more of the skirt was drawn up between the rollers and I was pulled backwards, uselessly trying to hold down the hemline as it rose up my legs. I suppose I must have protested, but nobody took any notice of whatever I said, not until I was pinned back against the mangle with most of my skirt hanging out the other side of it. What was left to me was rucked up around my waist, so high up that I knew the bottoms of my old fashioned bicycling briefs with the elasticated leg pieces must be showing. The sneer on Mrs Harrington’s still flushed face was proof enough of that, let alone the Yank’s grin.

“Honey, you sure do have one nice pair of legs, especially for a Sunday School teacher.”

“Let me go, please.”

He picked up one of the towels off the table and tied it around his waist, sat down on the top of the table and reached out his hand to Mrs Harrington. She gave him the gun and he put it down next to himself.

“And you sure haven’t been short changed in the upper works either, Sarah. A nice little double handful there for any guy to play with.”

I felt my face burning and my tongue completely tied. I’d never even heard of any man daring to talk like this to a respectable girl. Mrs Harrington just laughed, picked up the tray and walked off towards another table with clothing thrown on top of it.

“Susan, why don’t you put some more wood on the fire? This is the only place I can get warm in a goddam country that’s never heard of central heating. Don’t worry about our unexpected guest, she’s going noplace soon.”

A couple of his fingers tapped lightly against the pistol and Mrs Walsh - Susan? - walked towards the fire. As she walked past the Yank he caught her right breast in his outstretched hand and pulled her round to his lap. Mrs Walsh grunted, pulled the sheet around her above her hips and pressed herself against him in shameless response, grabbing his hand and holding it between her legs as she kept on making noises like a pig rooting through kitchen scraps. The Yank was watching my face as he put his fingers into Mrs Walsh, apparently far more interested in my response than in that of the woman he was playing with.

“See, I told you she wasn’t going anyplace soon. She’s too interested in watching what I’m doing to you girls to want to leave.”

“I’m not interested in what you’re doing” I said as confidently as I could. “I do want to leave, so you’d better let me go. And you can’t get away with threatening people with guns in this country. This isn’t Chicago.”

“Honey, I would never have guessed that,” he said sarcastically.

Mrs Harrington came back with her sheet neatly wrapped around her again and carrying the tray. On it were three glasses and a very expensive looking gold cigarette case. She took two cigarettes out of it, put them in her mouth and lit both with a lighter built into the case. I’d never seen such a fancy thing before. She passed one of the smokes to the Yank who released Mrs Walsh as casually as he’d grabbed her to take the cigarette from Mrs Harrington’s hand. Susan seemed unhappy about being discarded and knelt down to begin shoving sticks into the fire with unnecessary force. The man and the woman still at the table drank and smoked and stared at me, Reuben with lazy interest, Mrs Harrison with sharp eyed annoyance.

“What are you doing here, Sarah?” she asked.

“I don’t have to answer your questions!” I answered with defiance.

She smiled coldly: “How would you like us to feed you through that mangle the other way around - tits first?”

“I was just delivering a bottle of wine for the Vicar.” I answered quickly, my stomach feeling as if the wind had just been knocked out of it. Mrs Harrington snorted in disbelief, her eyes sharp and bright.

“It’s true - the bottle is in the saddlebag of my bike outside. But when I got here I heard some noise from inside here and I just wondered, well, what was going on. . .”

“So you decided to spy on us and now you’re going to go back to the village with a lot of gossip which everybody in the county will hear about in a day or two - or at least you think that’s what you’re going to do.”

“I won’t tell anybody anything.” I told her, trying to damp down her rising anger.

“No you won’t, not if you know what’s good for you. Reuben is a Major in the American military police and very rich as well, so you’d better not say anything or you’ll be in real trouble.”

“Gals, gals, quieten down will you, I’m getting a head ache,” the Yank rumbled. “This is no problem. There’s twenty pounds in the jeep that I’ll give to Sarah here in return for keeping quiet about our little get together.’

Twenty pounds - it was a fortune, as much as a skilled man could earn in a month. “And seeing as how she’s here and paid for, I guess she may as well join in the fun as well. It sure would be a waste of a good Sunday school teacher otherwise, for Jacob can see there is corn in Egypt.”

I was almost as startled by the quotation from the old testament as I was by his implied threat of what he was going to make me do.

“Now you needn’t look so surprised, honey. We’ve got bibles back home as well and my folks were kinda strict about bringing me up on it. Anyway, I guess we need to make a sinner out of you so there’ll be no temptation for you to go throwing any stones. Now if only I’d have known that I was going to have to lead a pretty young lady like you into temptation afternoon, why I guess I’d have preserved my strength a little instead of sinning straight off with Harriet.” He spread his arms out to encompass all three of us, then reached down and stroked his groin underneath the towel, still looking around and leering. “The harvest truly is plenteous, but the laborers are few.”

Next his eyes turned directly towards me: “Never mind, Sarah, ye shall eat of the fat of the land.”

It took me a moment or two to understand what he meant and why the women were laughing at me. Imaging myself sprawled over the top of a man’s naked body with my mouth full of him was as inconceivable as doing it with two other women watching me. Yet there was a kind of poetic justice about it that I knew would appeal to Susan and Harriet. I felt like I did when I fell of my bike - only really having time to wonder how hard the ground was going to hit me when I finally stopped falling.

“How long do you think she was watching us?” Harriet asked.

“Long enough to know exactly what’s going to happen to her now,” Susan snapped.

The other two each seemed to find the idea amusing. Reuben put his arms around the women, each of his hands cupping one of their breasts.

“Well, Sarah, you sure do seem a mite overdressed for the occasion. Maybe we can do something about that,” he drawled. His cigarette was hanging from the corner of his mouth, an eyelid screwed up against the smoke. I’d never seen a man so self assured. He dropped his hands and slapped both of the women on their bottoms. “Fix her up, gals. I’ve got to make a call on the radio - find out how things are going back at HQ.”

He got off the table, tied the towel around his waist, slipped his feet into a pair of unlaced shoes. “Have her ready for me when I come back.” He went outside, apparently unconcerned by the cold wind blowing outside. The gun was still in his hand, as though he was determined never to be parted from it.

As Susan and Harriet moved towards me I reached round to the handle to try to release myself but my skirt was bunched up in the rollers too tightly for me to be able to turn it from that difficult angle. And anyway, it was two against one, two who would have grabbed my arm before I could have turned the wheel even once. There was no way out.

Harriet Harrington stood and watched me, her arms crossed, the same cold smile on her face; her companion touched her elbow and whispered in her ear. Whatever she said seemed to suit Harriet.

“Well, Miss School Teacher, you might have thought that you’ve had an interesting afternoon so far, but it’s soon going to get a lot more interesting. Now for starters, it must be getting awfully hot in here underneath that sweater you’ve got on.”

Of course it was. In a situation like this I would have been hot and bothered enough anyway, let alone in a hot steamy room with a sweater on. My skin was pricking underneath it and drops of sweat were rolling down my face.

“So why don’t you let us take it off you?”

I shook my head.

“Suit yourself,” Harriet said briskly. “It’s just as easy for me to get Reuben to do it. He’d enjoy that, but you won’t. Especially when he gives you a spanking for being a stubborn little bitch. He’s got a swagger stick that he’s used on me once and I’ve never dared to argue with him since. But you’re going to be stripped off in here, that’s for certain. Your only choice is whether you want to be given a civilized shagging afterwards, or just plain raped. Whatever happens, Susan and I will be holding you down for Reuben if we have to, understand that. We need to make sure you won’t talk and having you thoroughly fucked is our only guarantee of that. So is it going to be done easy or hard? And if it’s to be made easy for you you’d better put your arms up without any further delay.”

I didn’t know what to do. Until Mrs Walsh showed me the long hat pin in her hand, then pressed the point of it through the wool of my sweater, through the fabric of my bra and into my left breast. It made me cry out with pain.

“Better make your mind up, Sarah - quickly.” She wasn’t pretending

Once more in the same day I held my arms up over my head in surrender. Harriet and Susan put their hands underneath the sweater my mother had knitted for me and raised it up and up, over my bra cups and over my shoulders, over my face, my hair, along my arms, and then it was hanging from her hands and I was wearing nothing but my bra above the waist. Susan nudged the left cup with her palm, her face close to mine.

“We’ll have that off you, and then you can do a performance for us to watch.”

I could see the smudged mascara on her eyebrows, smell the tobacco on her breath. It was a different sort of tobacco smell to anything I’d ever smelt before, sweeter. My heart was was bouncing around in my chest like a canary frantic to get out of its cage. Susan asked me questions.

“I bet you’ve never done it before have you? Or did that Charlie Moore manage to get his wicked way with you before he finally got called up for the navy?”

I was surprised she knew about Charlie and me. Everybody else in the village probably knew we’d begun courting but I didn’t think anybody in Mill Cottage would have cared.

“No, we didn’t do anything,” I protested.

Harriet touched me as well, stroking my cheek with the back of her fingers: “In that case I’ll bet twenty to one that Charlie boy is going to get a lovely surprise on his next leave. By then you’ll be grabbing hold of any cock you can get and bouncing up and down on it like a good ‘un. You’re as sexy a girl as I’ve ever seen, Sarah, and your days as a Sunday School teacher are definitively over.”

“No - no,” I protested, in vain. Susan unhooked the back of my bra and both of them took it off me. Both pairs of hands had long unchipped fingernails and soft skin which had never done any work. Harriet stood back and eyed me.

“Well, Sarah, you’re a well developed young lady. If nobody has been getting his fingers around those it’s been a sad waste.”

I tried to cover myself up with my hands, and that just made them laugh at me even more. Harriet said: “OK, let’s take off her English Channels now.”

“My what?”

“Your briefs,” Susan explained. “Your last line of defense.”

“Oh God!”

It only took a second or two, both of them kneeling down on either side of me and plucking the briefs down. “Be careful, please. Don’t break the elastic.” Maybe it was a silly thing to say under the circumstances, but maybe it wasn’t. Elastic was another clothing item which was hard to come by in wartime shops.

Anyway, they were reasonably careful, not wrenching them off me and helping me to step out of them. Harriet stood up, threw them casually across the back of a chair and looked carefully at me again. Susan had picked up a cigarette from somewhere and swallowed a stream of smoke before passing it over to Harriet.

“Another turn of the handle?”

“Oh yes, I think so. Just to set the scene off nicely.”

Susan caught hold of the mangle’s handle and turned it again, pulling me yet closer to the rollers and the bottom of the skirt up higher until it was right up around the top of my legs and I was literally within a hair’s breath of indecent exposure. One futile attempt trying to pull back some of the trapped cloth was enough to prove I was wasting my time. Susan giggled and patted the handle.

“One more turn, Sarah, one more turn of this and you’ll be putting on a turn of your own. A strip show turn with everything on show.”

“What are you doing this for?” I asked. “Why are you doing everything that man wants you too?”

Harriet nodded her head, as if appreciating the question.

“It’s suddenly become a whole new world, Sarah. A whole new country anyway. You know how it’s always been in England, the aristocracy and the landowners have always had the real power - and if you weren’t born and bred in their own little circles you were always a second rater, no matter how hard you worked or how good you were. But now we’re suddenly getting thousands of these Yanks flooding in and you just can’t believe how rich they are. Rich as a nation, rich as individuals, many of them. Not broad acres and rent book rich but cash rich. They’ve got bundles of money burning holes in their pockets because they know they’re going to be in the fighting and maybe getting killed. All they want are good times and to hell with what it costs. So if you’ve ever wanted to make your pile while you’re young, this is your chance. We’d be delighted to have you join us.”

“Join you?”

“Sure, believe me, there’s plenty for all and thanks to Reuben we’re just starting to get organised in a big way. He wants to bring some of his friends along here for a party - I think you’d be just right to come as the second story maid. I can even get you a special costume to wear.”

She was laughing at me with her eyes but she was serious too. “Listen, Sarah, if you come to one of Reuben’s parties dressed in the right way and carrying a collection plate you could end up buying your own house in that mouldy old village. You’ve got a lovely smile - it could be a smile that sets you up for smiling for the rest of your life.”

That struck a chord. My family, like many others, lived in a tied cottage - a cottage that belonged to the farm my dad worked for. If he lost his job he lost his home as well, a situation that always gave the farmers the whip hand when dealing with troublesome workers. Nobody could ever call my father a troublesome worker but it had always a sore point with me. Basically, tithed workers were no better off than Negro cotton pickers living in plantation cabins in the days of slavery. The prospect of being able to buy a way out of that trap was enough to get my undivided attention. Or at least it would have been at almost any other time - only Reuben walked back in just then.

As a natural reaction I covered my nipples up with my hands, something he hardly seemed to notice. A white belt was slung over one of his massive shoulders and around his chest like a bandoleer, a holster hanging off it and the butt of the pistol sticking out of the top of the holster. It was just like the cinema again, like one of the Mexican bandits you saw in the cowboy films. I felt like Dorothy in reverse - I’d somehow clicked my heels and we must be in Kansas. I wondered if there were Mexican bandits in Kansas.

“Goddamn those stupid bastards I have working for me!” Reuben’s smile had faded into a look of anger which frightened me. He seemed to realise that and to reassure me.

“Sorry, Sarah, I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ve been checking on things in London and I guess I’ve got a problem.”

“What’s wrong?” Susan asked him with concern in her voice.

“Two of my sergeants were doing street familiarization with a London bobby. They’d parked up near Claridge’s while the limey cop went for one of his usual limey tea breaks. So my two guys were sitting in their jeep and there’s a maroon Rolls-Royce parked outside the hotel across the road with an ATS officer inside it. Very young, not bad looking apparently. So she gets out of the Rolls and walks over to the jeep and asks my two half wits how they like England. OK, one half wit then, because one of the guys is very polite and says he likes it a lot. But sergeant Hermann Zeitler, he tells this female limey officer they should cut the cables on the barrage balloons and let the whole goddamned island sink into the sea. So she gives him a real long hard look and goes back to the Rolls. Just then the cop comes back and asks them if they knew who they’d been talking to.”

“Some Duchess?” Susan guessed.

“Some Duchess! That fuckwit Zeitler, he’s only gone and told off Princess Elizabeth of England!
If she complains the shit is really going to hit the fan. It wouldn’t be such a big deal if Eisenhower was still around but now he’s in North Africa and the senior American officer left in London is General John H. Lee. That strutting turkey will just love it if the US Ambassador to the Court of Saint James turns up in his office complaining that Major Reuben Steele’s military police company have been insulting the British royal family.”

“It’s OK,” Harriet said. “I bet the Princess won’t say anything about it. She’ll be like the rest of us, too glad to see you people here to help us to worry about a small thing like that. My advice would be to write to her, apologise, and say that your man only answered the way he did because he was feeling homesick. And maybe send her a gift of some kind as well.”

“What the hell sort of present do you give a Princess?”

“Nothing to her, perhaps, but if she’s in the army you could donate something to her unit. A film projector and some of the latest Hollywood films — musicals would be good. Anything at all except war films — we’re all fed up with the war over here.”

“Good thinking, Harriet. I’ll do just that. As for Sergeant Zeitler, I’ve got an ideal transfer arranged for him. If he doesn’t like this island we’ll send him to one where he’ll have real trouble finding any princesses to mouth off at.”

“Where’s that then, Reuben?”

“A nice little tropical resort in the South Pacific called Guadalcanal. I’ve a feeling that Zeitler won’t be there too long before he’s wishing like hell he was back pulling duty outside Claridge’s.”

“Never mind, we’ll take your mind off your worries,” Susan said brightly. “Won’t we, Sarah?”

“What do you mean?” I asked her and she smiled.

“I think we can lift that skirt just a teensy weensy touch more, can’t we, Susan?”

Susan put her hands on the handle: “Hey, hey and a up she rises, early in the morning”.

Harriet’s hand dropped to the front of Reuben’s towel and stroked his pizzle. “I think we might have something here that’s about to rise as well.”

The Yank grinned and plucked the towel from his waist. His cock twitched as Harriet touched it, like the head of a sleeping python being roused. The length of flesh seemed almost independent of Reuben somehow — he and Harriet were both looking down at it as if neither of them were quite sure of what it was going to do next. Then he carefully folded the towel in a long strip and gave me a smile which seemed to be as slow growing as what was stirring at his groin.

“Sarah, I guess you’ve heard about Sir Walter Raleigh spreading his cloak in front of Queen Elizabeth. Now you’re going to have a man spread a towel for you. No need to get frightened, I’m not going to hurt you any.”

I was so nervous I didn’t know whether to scream or not as he laid the towel on the brick floor in front of my feet. I was puzzled as well, not knowing what he meant to do, even more so when he knelt down on the towel, his face only a few inches from the hem of my skirt. He swirled one of his fingers around as a signal to Sarah and she turned the handle as far as she could. I was pinned right gack against the mangle, up on the tips of my toes, with my own small patch of brown hair openly exposed and Reuben’s breath stirring them. I saw his tongue dart forward and press against the junction at the top of my legs. The wriggling length of hot skin went further underneath me as he tilted his head back, his eyes staring at my face in humor as he lapped against most private places like a cow feeding off a salt lick. Both of the other women were watching me as though I was was some kind of a laboratory experiment, some kind of Frankenstein about to come to life.

Not that that was far from the truth, and it was Reuben who was whipping up the storm where the electricity was coming from.

I found myself wailing out his name as my clit began to swell like a spring bud. There was no way I could stop myself twitching and gasping in response, my bare bum rubbing up against the wooden rollers of the mangle. Looking down at the Yank’s smiling eyes I knew I was seeing the man who was going to be my first lover, the one who was going to change me from a girl into a woman. My hands came down and rubbed his bristly scalp in encouragement as I literally melted on top of Reuben’s face, my cunt as damp as the tongue rubbing against it. Henrietta and Susan grabbed at my exposed nipples, tweaking and plucking both of them with crazy smiles on their faces, like the Marx brothers trying to tune a harp.

My head went back and I stared up wide eyed into the roof rafters, letting out a shriek which echoed amongst them. Although it must have been my imagination I thought I saw the clouds of steam underneath the tiles quivering at the sound waves.

Harriet’s face was close to mine, watching with amusement and interest: “How do you feel now, Miss Sunday School Teacher?”

I groaned. “Like a Guy Fawkes dummy on top of a burning bonfire!”

“Then it must be about time for the fireworks to start.”

She began nibbling on one of my ears and then Susan did the same from the other side, just as Reuben’s huge hands clasped my bottom. One of his fingers jabbed straight up between both of my buttocks and I wailed out again. Reuben leaned back, his hands still holding me in a crushing embrace.

“Noisy little bitch, isn’t she? I wonder if she’ll be able to keep it up when I introduce her to the rest of the guys.”

“You think she’ll be able to stand the strain?” Susan answered in a jokey kind of voice,

He stood up and casually waggled the huge up roll of swollen skin curving up in front of his loins. “I guess we’ll have to give her a stretch test to find out. Roll a sheath on for me, ladies.”

They couldn’t get down on their knees fast enough, as if they were worshipping his maleness, working hand over hand to stretch the sheath over the length of a cock that seemed more the right size for a bull than a man. I’d never been near so frightened of anything in my life — being shagged for the first time was bad enough, being shagged for the first time in front of an audience was worse, but being shagged by a tool like that! I was going to die in agony impaled on an organ which was never meant to be used on a human woman …

The only slight consolation was that Harriet had already been used by it and survived: on the other hand, our respectable Mrs Harrington had probably had more men inside her already than the changing rooms at Wembley Stadium. Reuben had been following a well beaten path, not cutting a new one. It was no use, I was as dead as Lord Kitchener, and for the same reason - torpedoed to death.

No sooner was the sheath on than Susan was checking the fit with her mouth, squatting on her haunches and snorting through her nose as she sucked on his cock, one hand cupping his balls.
Her other hand was up between Harriet’s thighs as that ‘lady’ licked the matted hair on Reuben’s chest.

“Yeah, maybe you girls would be interested in hearing that a bunch of my guys will be here soon for a work break. I think what we’ll do is to dump little Sarah here in the copper to steam for a while in a hot bath. When my guys arrive they can strip off at the door, collect a bar of soap each and gather around the copper to give her a real thorough washing. I guess we might get some fun out of watching that.”

Harriet giggled and looked at me as if it was a great joke I should be sharing in while Susan sounded as if she was choking. She had to stop sucking on Reuben’s cock before she could recover her breath.

“OK, ladies, one leg each, high and wide, and let’s see if the Sunday School teacher knows any good prayers.

The two ladies of Mill Cottage seemed quite calm as they prepared for my ravishment by lifting up my legs as I cried out and held onto the frame of the mangle underneath me. “Put her knee over your offside shoulder,” Harriet said. “She’s not very heavy but we might be here for a while and it’s easier to support her weight like this”

It was crazy, it was impossible, I was hanging in mid air with my legs splayed out against two naked womens’ breasts, my calves pressing against their sweating skin as a nude man moved closer