and pulled out some rope and shoestrings. I had her sit up and took a

long length of rope and tied her arms behind her back. I took a second

length of rope, tied one end to the rope holding her arms and then started

making figure eights around her chest, going each time between her breasts.

I asked her what the shoestrings were for and she said to tie them tightly

around her nipples, making sure to leave plenty of string to get a grip on

after her nipples began to swell. After doing this, I lowered her back onto

the bed and tied her ankles to the bed posts. Seeing her this helpless on the

bed was driving me wild, so I reached over and gently tugged at the strings

on her nipples. She began to moan and I could wait no longer. I pulled

my shorts down and positioned myself 69 style over her. She latched on to

my cock and began sucking and licking. I began licking her pussy and tugging

at her strings, which made her moan ever more. I didn’t want to cum yet, so

I moved down to her pussy and began to suck her clit, all the while pulling

strings.

With her pussy dripping wet, I stopped and she told me that there was a

double headed dildo in the drawer next to the bed. Getting into the grove,

I told her she had to be a real good girl before I would let her cum. Just

then, Renee walked back into the room and joined us on the bed. She said

Tammy had been bad all day long and needed to be punished. I was glad to

oblige. Renee straddled Tammy’s chest and untied the strings from her

nipples. She took her finger and ran it between the lips of Tammy’s pussy

and began rubbing her own lips and clit. As this went on, she would use

the palm of her other hand to gently graze the swollen nipples before her.

Tammy started to buck and grind under Renee, and she knew it would not take

much more for her to cum. Renee got off of her chest and picked up the dildo.

She gave us a slutty look and started to go down on the monster rubber cock

with her mouth. She turned it around and did the other side, slid it down

her chest between her breasts, and put one end into her pussy. As she pumped

it in and out of her hot box, she pushed the other end into her ass. As her

knees got wobbly, she dropped to the floor in front of me and started to suck

my dick. I reached down and twisted her nipples as she sucked me as she kept

a steady rythym in her pussy and ass with the dildo. Tammy could do nothing

but lie on the bed and watch. Renee pulled the dildo out with a pop and

pulled me to the floor and into her pussy. It didn’t take long until she came

and I was not far behind. As I started to cum, I pulled out of Renee and

quickly put my cock in Tammy’s mouth. She was wild with lust after watching

us screw right in front of her and sucked me off real fast. For this, I slid

dildo into her cunt and asshole. I twisted her nipples and she came shaking

and grinding the dildo into my other hand.

I quickly untied Tammy, and massaged her arms and neck, which led to my dick

starting to springing back to life. She took it in her hands and began to

jack me up and down. We laid down on the bed facing each other as I started

to rub her clit and Renee joined us directly behind Tammy. Tammy slid my now

hard cock into her sweet pussy and Renee slid the end of the dildo into

Tammy’s ass and into her pussy. The feeling of that rubber cock head rubbing

against my head through the thin skin between her pussy and her asshole was

fantastic. I knew I wouldn’t last long. I reached around and fingered Renee

in the ass and just as I did she came. Tammy came again, almost as hard as

before and her clutching pussy muscles were taking me to the edge. Tammy slid

a finger into my asshole and that was all I could take. I pumped her pussy

full as Renee kneaded my balls to get every drop of cum out. I pulled out of

Tammy and when I had slumped off the bed into a chair, Renee pulled the dildo

out of her pussy and reached into the drawer and pulled out another two headed

dildo. Tammy rolled over and got on her hands and knees as Renee slid on end

of one dildo into Tammy’s ass and the end of the other dildo into Tammy’s

pussy. Renee got on her hands and knees and put the ends into her holes and

started to move back and forth. I was getting hard again watching these two

go at it, but man did my balls hurt.

The girls were going at it as hard as they could, shoulders to the bed, one

hand on the clit and one hand going from nipple to nipple. I was now stroking

at a pretty fast pace and could feel my balls burning. As they came, I stood

up and shot two short squirts on their backsides and that was all I could get.

I ended up spending the night with them and visited them a couple more times

before they left, but that I’ll save for a later story.

–

Eddie too was becoming convinced. “What does a
pussy look like?”

“Well, I’ll tell you, but only if you let me and
Marvin beat you off.”

“But I told you already…I DON’T WANT TO BURN IN
HELL!!!” Eddie wailed.

“Don’t be stupid, Eddie. You only go to hell if you
beat yourself off. Not if somebody else beats you off.

[....!??] “Are you sure?”

Victor could see that Eddie wanted very much to
believe him. “I’m positive. In fact you can even beat
somebody else off and it doesn’t count…it’s only when you
beat yourself that you go to hell.” Victor could see Eddie
was weakening. He was pleased with himself. “But first
you’re going to have to show us your penis.”

The bald guy wearing the sunvisor was wheezing
audibly. He weighed 275 pounds easily and could barely hold
himself up in the squat over the scrawny longhaired guy with
the pimples and coke bottle glasses lying flat on his back
between the fatman’s legs in the bathtub. HERE IT COMES…
Kurt Jr. twisted his left tit with one hand while he held
the bottle of Locker Room up to his nostrils with the other.
The shaky camera panned down the fat guy’s back to his
distended shit hole. IT’S COMING OUT… Kurt recapped the
popper and rammed his middle finger back up into his own
hungry poop-chute, just as a brown turd ribbon began
squeezing out the fat man’s rectum, dropping by clumps into
the longhair’s open mouth. Kurt pushed his finger in as far
as it would go up up toward a lump of his own shit. He
clamped down with all his might and then withdrew his finger
to look at the treasure. It was clean. He held it to his
nose and sniffed. DAMN…nothing.

Back on the screen the pimply guy had started rimming
the filthy asshole. The shit was getting smeared everywhere.
One of the guy’s lenses was completely mudded out.

Now THAT is disgusting Kurt thought to himself. He
was irritated with SHIT LOVERS #3. It was exactly like
LOVERS #1 and #2. Why did they always use such ugly nerdy
types in these scat videos? That guy shouldn’t be wearing
his glasses for godsake. It was ludicrous and made the whole
thing a travesty. Why couldn’t there ever be any nice
healthy looking guys with white teeth, flawless tans and
fresh blow-drys like in all the other porn? After all, I’m
hot looking, atheletic, with a nice body, Kurt thought, I’m a
shit lover…why can’t they make these movies with guys like
me. This is so demeaning. It really pisses me off. If only
he had more guts, he reasoned for the thousandth time. He’d
given it so much thought…lead the movement, give public
speeches, be a spokesman and role model, march in the
parades… If only he had more guts. Guts enough to bring
respectability to scat. Educate the public. Go into
politics even. Who knew where it might lead? Kurt Schidink
Jr. the country’s first Brown Hanky Congressman. B.M.
Brothers Unite!!! Keep your chins up high!!! Don’t be
oppressed just because you let people shit on you. Spread
those Cheeks and FLY!!! It made his head spin. Kurt took
another hit as the video shifted to a new duo. Well, not
entirely new. There was that same fatty but this time he was
wearing a black wig..(!) THIS IS REALLY INSULTING…what a
piece of shit this #3 was turning out to be and he’d forked
over $89.95 for it too. Non-refundable.

At 10:03 pm, the exact moment of Kurt Jr.’s
disappointing discovery, downstairs his father had positioned
himself over his mother’s cunt and his tongue was beginning
to search out what they called her little love-snail, his
youngest brother Timmy still on the pot was on the verge of
passing out from pushing out and his other brother Marvin was
untying his pajama bottoms. And two blocks away out on the
icy street the fuel pump of a ‘79 Ford Pinto was giving up
its life, unbeknownst to Larry Henderson, the car’s current
owner coming back from a gay bar through a neighborhood he’d
never been in before. It was incredible coincidence that
when the engine died it died right in front of 677 Rigoletto
Place, the home of Mr. and Mrs. Kurt Schidink and their three
fine sons. The coincidence was made greater by the fact that
during the summer of his highschool sophomore year Larry and
Kurt who were classmates and neighbors at the time used to
get together to assfuck and suck each other off. But then
Kurt’s family moved across town and Larry took up with a
different crowd and the rest was history. Kurt and Larry had
not seen each other in 25 years. Larry steered the coasting
Pinto across a slick of ice next to the curb. Shit it was
cold. For the first time that evening he regretted not
wearing more than the jockstrap under his leather chaps. He
got out and threw open the hood. His butt was FREEZING. He
hoped he’d be able to spot what the problem was, only the
problem was that Larry actually only knew zip about cars and
realized that the gesture was more one of macho reflex than
constructive action. Larry could see his breath in the beam
of his flashlight. It was dark except for some yellowish
light coming from behind the upstairs shaded window of 677.
Behind those shades Grace was moaning herself through
multiple orgasms under her husband’s increasingly clumsy
ministrations and manipulations.

Kurt didn’t know what had taken over him. He felt
great. Out of control, but great. And then Grace crested her
biggest wave and one knee kicked out in one of the many
reflex actions her coming was prone to and landed square in
the center of her hubby’s swollen tight-as-a-drum
fluid-filled paunch. OOOOoofff. [pop] The stopper blew out
of Kurt’s greasy red hole, which opened up like a fireman’s
hose and sent quarts of brownish fleck-laden water flying
across the bedroom spraying all over the mirrors and
glasstopped vanity. What was happening? Kurt didn’t really
know. He looked between his legs and caught the reflection
of his hydrant butt at full power. Oddly, he felt removed
from it all…no big deal… time stood still…he was just
floating in a blissful out of body experience… In what may
have only been seconds later he found himself sitting on the
Port-a-Potty squirting out a few remaining ounces, while
Grace, ever the vigilant homemaker, good-naturedly surveyed
the damage.

Larry Henderson knew he had only two choices, both
fairly humiliating: ask these folks to call AAA or find a bus
stop and hope that public transportation was were still
running at this hour. He might have opted for the later
option, however the risk of frostbitten buns made him decide
to head for the front stoop of 677. I sure hope these folks
are home, he thought to himself as he prepared to ring the
bell.- – - – - – - – – - – - – [TO BE CONTINUED...]

—

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What are you up to Mac?”

“I was just going to drop by to see if you had changed your mind yet? How about

dinner?”

“All right. But, only dinner.”

“No dessert?”

“Perhaps, but I am watching my weight,” she said, licking her lips unconsciously.

“How about around six?” he offered.

“Sounds good.”

She knew she was setting herself up for another fall, but she had always had

trouble saying no to Mac. “I can handle having dinner with him,” she thought,

reassuring herself.

Sitting at her desk, she noticed a small petite black girl leaving Lydia’s

office. The girl was definitely a beauty and probably had all the boys falling at

her feet. It seemed ironic to Janine as she thought about Lydia and all the

signs, which she had missed, that now so clearly suggested she was bisexual if

not lesbian. It was hard thinking of Lydia in that way. She had always seemed so

calm, reserved, and rather asexual. Evidently, there was a lot more to her than

appearances suggested.

***

By the end of the day, Dianne found herself alone in her office with damp panties

and a caffeine rush. Too much caffeine gave her way too much energy, making her

bounce off the walls. She looked forward to meeting Mac privately to get to know

him better, so taking matters into her own hands she had put a note on his desk

asking him to drop by for a chat. Life had become boring in the past month or so.

Her summer had been filled with hot sex and companionship, but then Bill had

shipped off to southeast Asia somewhere. Of course, she polished his pistol for

him before he departed, but that had been over four weeks ago. While she did

indulge in a casual one nighter here and there, she had not been thoroughly

fucked in over a week.

Dianne once had thought of going to a sex addicts meeting, but she figured she

would probably screw all the members. She started to fantasize about all the

different kind of “members” that would be at a sex addicts meeting. “It would be

like a candy shop,” she thought. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of

such tantalizing thoughts, as she started to go through her lecture notes for the

next day.

“Come on in,” she announced, after hearing the knock at the office door. She

licked her lips and casually ran her hand down to smooth out her dress.

…End of the part7. To be continued..

want to fuck me tonight Mrs. Belvoir ?” he asked.

Blood was filling her head…. It would have been amusing if her position would

not have been so humiliating. She could not answer her master; not with her

husband huddling on the floor only six feet away.

Jerome licked his index finger and then stroked the red lined slit. Anna’s sex

chute had regained it’s tightness since her black sexing several hours ago. She

felt her slippery lubricant forming deep in her pussy. When Jerome separated the

tight lips Anna moaned noticeably. “May I please get up ?” she pleaded.

“No.. You may not. I like you with your face on the floor. Answer my question

Mrs. Belvoir !”

The back of Anna’s legs begged for relief. The tips of Jerome’s long muscular

fingers were continuing to agitate her sex. She wanted to………………..

“Yes,” was her quiet sob.

“Yes, what, Mrs. Belvoir ?” Jerome asked.

The tears had returned to her eyes. “Yes, I want you to fuck me Mr. Bettis.”

The fingertips were teasing her hard clit. The obscene position that she found

herself…. and the tormenting fingers were bring her close to arousal.

“Beg ME,” Jerome ordered.

Anna tried to form the words… She tried to come up with an answer; any answer.

She couldn’t.

“Please fuck me with your black cock Mr. Bettis. Please take me to my bedroom and

fuck me until you cum into my tight pussy. PLEASE…… PLEASE MR. BETTIS,

PLEASE FUCK ME…… FUCK ME WITH YOUR LONG BLACK COCK YOU BASTARD !!”

Anna’s submission was complete. Jerome sat and relished her surrender. “Well

JimBo…. Do you want me to fuck your little tramp ?”

Jim’s cock was about to explode. His head still spun from the sharp slaps he had

just received. Meekly he looked up at the black man seated at his kitchen table

obscenely stroking his wife’s sloppy pussy. “Yes……” was his simple reply.

“Well white boy; I be taking your little tramp up to YOUR bedroom. I’m going to

fuck her in the same bed that you lay with her every night. I want you to stay

here… Maybe afterwards I will let you watch… but now you just keep laying on

the floor. Oh….. and another thing. I want you to beg me to fuck your little

slut of a wife,” Jerome concluded.

With his head hung in shame (but with his five inch white cock throbbing with

…End of the part20. To be continued..

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It had been three days since the picnic trip and they had not played any of
their pooey games since then.

Jane spoke. “I meant to tell you Mary, that I’ve really really come alive
since we started our fun games. You are such a good good friend!”

Mary instantly shot back “Same goes for me my love. Are you in the mood or
something”

“Well yes. I have been ’saving up’ for you. It’s been two days since I
have done a bigjob you know?”

“Bathroom…?”

“Why not?”, said Jane, “let’s be conventional for once !” They laughed.
“But we can use the full floor space!”

The friends decided to strip naked. “Come on then Jane, how about a nice
squat down right in the middle of the floor.”

Jane squatted down and pulled her panties to one side. “Nnnnnnnnnnnn…..”
A big push with huge effort. “nnnnnnnn”

This went on for a few moments. Mary stood over Jane letting her finger
and lick her pussy through and round mary’s panties. Between straining of
course!

Mary said “What’s happening… oo.. that’s nice…but ..mmmm.. are you
getting anywhere?”

Jane replied, a little frustration in her voice. “My rear feels so fully
loaded, but I just can’t move it. You’ll have to help mary”

“Ok Ok…get down on all fours and I’ll take a look”

Jane did so and mary made a close examination of mary’s bum hole.

“Give another big push Jane!”

Jane did so. Mary put her tongue against Janes hole which bulged and
pushed against it.

“It’s going to have to be a finger job. Ready?”

Jane giggled her consent as Mary wet one finger first in her own cunt then
in Jane’s. Then into Jane’s bum hole.

“Well, I’ve got my finger half in and I can already feel it! Jesus..it’s a
real torpedo poo!. PUSH! I’ll try and get this finger well in and help it
out”

Jane really strained hard. Her whole body went rigid with each heave.
Mary now had her finger wedged alonside the long fat poo in Jane’s rectum.
The pressure made Jane piss voluminously right onto the floor, the piss
puddle running around her knees and lower legs. Mary curled her finger
round a little to try and help hook out the beast.

“Come on…one more BIG heave Jane!”

“Grrrrnnnnnnnnn…. yeah”

At last the first part of the poopy stick showed itself to Mary, who slid
her shitty finger out of Jane’s arse hole”

More pushing, but then a halt. Now a good four inches of turd were
sticking rigidly out of Jane.

“Jane.. I have a wondeful idea! Get up get up!”

Mary lay down on the floor and lifted her legs really high and back over
her shoulders so her cunt was aimed almost to the ceiling. With her hands
she spred and opened hur pussy, glistening wet.

Jane was staning with the monster turd sticking firm from between her
cheeks

“Now”, said Mary, “FUCK ME WITH THAT CHOCKY STICK!”

Even Jane was slightly amazed, but totally delighted! So, she turned her
back to Mary and slowly lowered her rear down until the tip of the turd
entered Mary’s gaping hole. It would go in well, it was so firm. Soon
Jane was sitting almost fully down on Mary’s twat, locked to her by the poo
now well up Mary. Slowly the two women started to gently thrust in rhythm
and the protruding turd slid in and out of Mary like a dark brown cock…

motor up again. He then went down and washed my sex, getting the hair first and

then making sure there were no stray drops of the cooking oil inside. I came

leaning back against the wall. When I had my breath back, he handed me the wash

cloth and told me that it was now my turn. I’m sure I grinned as I repeated the

procedure on him. The water was beginning to run cold by the time we were both

done. He dried me off and put my collar back on. (When had he taken it off?) He

lead me to the bed. I would normally have found something pretty to wear, but J

wouldn’t allow it. We both slept nude, or he did, I was after all wearing my

collar. It was a very odd night. Very sensual. He made love to me then, right

after we got into the bed, but he didn’t come (though I did). Then he explained

to me that my job was to service him whenever he had the urge all night. He’s a

very light sleeper. I don’t know how many times he woke up and took me or had me

go down on him, or flipped me on my back and licked me until I was screaming my

orgasm. I have no idea how many times he made me come. Sometime in the middle

of the night he came, his member buried in my bottom. Each time he took me

there, he would have me go and get a warm wash cloth and clean him off. Then

he’d have me go down on him until he was really hard and take me vaginally. In

the morning he came again, in my pussy this time. Each time he brought me to

orgasm. I was finding it easier and easier to come each time. It was as if

lifting all responsibility from me made me better in bed, or at least released

all my inhibitions and let me come more and more often. By morning I was actually

sated, tired but sated. I wondered about the day he’d have in srore for me.

I’ve gotten bored. I feel like I’m no longer talking about me and my experience

as much as I’m just offering you some titilation. It’s really difficult to

identify the specific occurrences on Saturday. So much happened. A lot of it was

J actually using me however and whenever he wished. He explained to me what a

pearl necklace was after he’d given me one. I’d never expected him to use the

tube of K-Y he took out between my breasts. When he spurted over my neck and

chin, he told me about that. I was naked nearly all day. His hands were all over

me most of the day. No pinch marks or anything like that, just a healthy

appreciation of my skin and that his time was limited. I came so many times that

my sides ached, sorta the way that they feel if you laugh too hard and too long.

Don’t get me wrong, it was a nice ache, but clearly we pushed our physical

limitations quite a bit. He pushed my emotional buttons very strongly too.

Normally I like to be the center of attention by being boisterous. He made me

the center of attention by making me quiet. He played a lot of head games with

me and made me love it. I served him breakfast in bed, of course. When he was

finished eating he had me go down on him while he finished his coffee of all

things. When I had him hard, he put his cup down and took me again, from behind

this time. He didn’t come then, but he made me, twice. J played this bizarre

game with me where he’d ask me questions that were extremely personal, like the

precise manner in which I lost my virginity, with graphic details. If I didn’t

tell him or if I didn’t seem to be telling the truth right away, he’d begin to

fondle me. He’d keep doing it until I told him what he’d asked. The bastard

kept me coming for what seemed like ten minutes, it couldn’t have been that long,

but he had this knack of being able to keep me right on the peak for the longest

times. I told him all kinds of things, the first time I had anal sex, all of the

occasions … well, you get the idea. We played that for much of the morning. He

did take me out, but that’s too complicated to go into now, perhaps later at

another session. The last thing he did Saturday night was probably the most

physically intense. He tied me to the 4 corners of my bed. Then he blindfolded

me. I had images of being tit-fucked again or of taking him in my mouth while he

held me down, of all kinds of things. He gave me a massage. At least it began as

a massage. Then it kind of evolved into something else. He stopped kneading my

muscles as much as he titilated my skin. He spend several minutes running his

hands up my thighs and down my stomach until I was ready to beg him to touch my

pussy, screw me, touch me, anything. Then he disappeared for a couple of

minutes. The next thing I felt, remember I was blindfolded, was him putting a

warm wash cloth over my sex. I knew what he was doing when he began to lather it

up. He told me that I needed to be very still and then began to shave my pubic

hair away. Now my husband and I engage in oral and anal sex, though normally

inside, so it wasn’t as if any of the specific acts were new to me. Shaving

myself isn’t something I’ve had to do or wanted to do for that matter. Somehow,

it felt forbidden and deliciously sexy to have him do it this way. He certainly

took his time over it, and while I suspect he wasn’t ever using the razor on me

while he did it, he did rub my clit a lot while reminding me that I needed to

stay still while he shaved me. That was fairly intense. When he was done, he used

a wet cloth to clean off the last of the soap. Then he went down on me, and down

on me and down on me. I lost count of how many times he made me come. When he

stopped, he put some baby oil on my newly shaved pussy. That’s when I felt there

was something he was hiding. After he oiled me, he used his fingers on me and

started me coming again. Then, I swear, he tried to see how long he could make

me come. He used his tongue, his fingers, his prick, then started over with his

tongue. He did it so long that I couldn’t catch my breath. When he untied me, I

was dizzy. He had to help me to the bathroom. He wouldn’t let me take off the

blindfold right away, but I did feel that he’d left a patch of fuzz on the upper

right hand side of my pubic hair. It wasn’t until I’d spend another night just

like the last one (I did make him come three times, once in each aperture as he

called it) coming maybe a dozen separate times myself that I got to see myself in

the light. I kept that heart shaped pubic patch for a couple of months after

that. Oh, look at the time. I’ve got to be going. I must say I enjoyed this

more than I thought. What? Oh, yes, I do re-do the heart from time to time…

inside quickly enough if you got your neighbors sufficiently disturbed. He

started up my right leg. I tried to bite my tongue. I HAD to bite it when he got

to the top of my thigh this time. He brought up the hose and rinsed off the soap

from my legs. He started on my bottom and back. He spend several minutes working

on them. I had this image of myself as a race horse being curried (is that the

right word) after a run through a pasture. He slipped down and did my arms,

ending up on my chest. He began to do my stomach and chest. It was quite a

sensation as he worked on my breasts. When he was done I was still quite, but I

was sure I was clean, there. He spent quite a bit of time working his way down

my sides with that sponge, doing my stomach, rinsing me off. Then he did my sex.

He dropped sponge after a moment or two and used just his fingers. He certainly

got the oil out. He also gave me one helluva hard time as I tried to stay quiet.

He could see how hard it was for me as I bucked against his hand. He’d been

sifting quite a bit so he was able to completely surprise me when he slid his

cock right into me. I grabbed the fence for support as he plowed into me. It was

so weird, so kinky, so arousing, AND I HAD TO BE QUIET. I came once, and then

again and I only let out a little moan the second time. Still it was wonderful.

He unlatched the cuffs and let my hands go free. He took off my blindfold, and,

as I blinked in the dim light, pointed to his still erect member. I dropped to

my knees as I thanked him.

Out there in the moonlight I was overwhelmed by sensation. I was sopping wet,

still fairly oily (cold water only does so much), on my knees and just oozing

sexuality. It was all over me. I’d been naked now for several hours and I was

outside that way, in my own yard. I didn’t care that I was naked; I didn’t care

that my neighbors might see me. I didn’t care that any of a number of very

awkward things might happen, I was not me any more, at least not just then, I was

woman as sex, not just as sex object, but as the embodiment of sex itself. J was

there naked as I was, sporting an enormous erection that practically glowed in

the dark. He’d had me, made me come twice, but he’d held off. I couldn’t have

that. I latched onto him like a hungry tiger, taking his erection into my mouth,

grabbing his hips, literally so he couldn’t get away from me, because it was

important to me that I make him come. He allowed me to work on him for a moment

then for a couple, then he tried to get me to stop. I held on for dear life.

After a few seconds he stopped trying to pry me off and instead grabbed my hair

and pulled me to him, forcing himself deeper into my mouth, erupting as he did

it. I swallowed every drop. When he was through (I made sure) he just hugged me

for a few moments, then very quietly he said, “You could become habit forming,”

and then hugged me again. He helped me to my feet and took me back into the

house. He lead me to the bathroom and turned on the shower. When it was warm he

put me in and followed. He didn’t let me do anything right away. He started on

my feet and lathered his way up to mid thigh before starting on the other one.

He repeated the process, soaping my foot and calf and about half way up my thigh.

Then he stood up and washed my arms and back and then took out shampoo and did my

hair. When he was done with that and I was all rinsed off, he washed my face,

pausing to kiss me long and deep. I could get used to being pampered, I told

myself. Then he soaped my stomach and my bottom, being VERY thorough. He did my

thighs and then worked up to my breasts and washed them with incredibly gentle

…End of the part12. To be continued..

palms of my hands, then change to touching only the nipple or to tweaking or

pinching them. Abruptly he told me to stop and to come to him on my knees. He

had me suck on him. I tried to use this to get him to be the one who was so

horny he was losing control. No dice. He had me stop again. He told me to do

one of my dance routines, just the way I was (wasn’t) dressed. He seemed to

enjoy that, but again he made me stop and come over and try and make him come

with only my breasts. I wasn’t allowed to touch his cock except between my

breasts. He kept me at that for quite a while, but as soon as I thought I was

getting somewhere he made me stop again and put me on the couch right next to

him. He told me to masturbate for him. This time he let me come. It was so odd

being next to him and not being touched at all as I reached orgasm. He took me to

the kitchen then and over the tile floor he placed a layer of newspapers and had

me stand on them. He handed me a bottle of cooking oil and told me to cover

myself with it while he sat back and watched me. I’m not sure what I expected,

but J was certainly exceeding my expectations. I certainly never knew where

oiling myself would lead.

Have you ever performed for someone on demand? Not necessarily like this, but

had someone said to you, ‘tell me a funny story’ or walk into a room and have the

teacher ask you to do a problem or show them a dance movement? It puts you off

balance. Even if it’s something you normally do well, being told to do it for

their entertainment and enlightenment is hard. I took the bottle from him and

poured some in my hand. As I coated my breasts I tried to be very sensual. I

wanted him to be sorry that his hands were not applying that oil. It was a silly

thing to be doing in any event and I found myself enjoying it. Using cooking oil

made it seem really ridiculous. I couldn’t help grinning. I poured come more in

my hand, set the bottle down on the counter and got some of the oil on both

hands. I did my arms and shoulders. As I got to my shoulders I brushed the

collar on my neck. I had to stifle a giggle when I thought of being in dog

collar and standing on newspapers. I got more of the oil and slicked down my

stomach and sides. I glanced at J. He was enjoying this too. His smile was

infectious. I turned around as I put oil on my bottom and on my back. I used

what was on my hands and then looked at J over my shoulder, “Is that enough?”

“Not nearly. Add some more,” J said in that quiet voice of his. I got some more

and put a definite sheen on my bottom. I then moved onto my legs. I coated the

thighs first, turning around the whole time to give J a better view. I bent over

while I did my calves, but kept turning around to show him as much of me as I

could. J seemed to be enjoying the sight a great deal. I thought I was done,

except for my back. I looked at J and said in a quiet, perhaps even a submissive

voice, “I can’t get my back.” J stood up, walked over to me, took the bottle from

the counter and poured a generous amount into his hands. I turned around and let

him have at my back. His large warm hands ran down my spine. He didn’t just coat

my back, he rubbed it as if he were trying to give me a massage. He got to the

bottom of my back and reached for more oil. He took some and began to work on my

ass. Again what he was doing was more like a massage. He did pause and oil not

only my anal opening, but after a moment or two of that, the channel inside as

well. This was becoming more and more interesting as it went on. J turned me

around and began to massage my stomach. The oil changed the way I felt J’s

movement. By the time he worked his way up to my breasts his half hard erection

…End of the part10. To be continued..

and down the sides of my body. Gradually, his hands start edging around to the

front, where my breasts stand cocked and tender. Deliberately llingering, he

slides his hands up and around the edges of the breasts, then towards but not

quite to the nipples. The palms of his hands brush oh-so-lightly across the

nipples, and I lean into the sensation, seeking a more certain touch.

“Naughty!” he declares. “I’ll have to teach you to behave.”

He takes my plait, which hangs down my back to below waist level, and wraps it

around my wrists, fastening the end inside the belt. My head is tilted upwards,

unable to move or see what he is doing. One hand seems to be at the computer,

while the other roams randomly around my front, with no set purpose or

destination in mind — or are both hands there? I can’t tell — my traitorous

body is losing its ability to tell individual touches in the surge of stimulation

being provided.

Then he removes my undies (until now still modestly covering me) and starts

running his hands up and down my inside thighs, again avoiding the centre of

sensation. I start moaning — the suspenseful sensation is taking over my senses,

and my whole being contracts to the spots being teased and touched by his

fingers. Any time I try to move my thighs towards his fingers, he stops, until I

realise what he is about and desperately try to control my trembling urging and

listing and attempt to hold still. For another few eternities he teases and

torments, then with a whispered “Good Girl”, he runs the tips of his fingers over

my clit and along the slit, briefly outlining the labia and sparking the nerves

into unsettled activity, eliciting a loud groan from my tensed throat. Then he

stops again.

I am turned around and laid back on the keyboard of the computer. My hair is

loosened slightly, so my head lies straight, but I am still unable to see

anything below my neckline. My legs are around his middle, as he sits back on his

computer chair and contemplates my position and his assignment.

“Please — touch me” I beg, my skin acutely aware that the most minimal caress

will be more erotic now than many more carnal handlings later.

He shifts in his chair, his hands engaged in cryptic activities, his breathing

controlled and yet as charged as mine.

Then something starts moving over my skin. It’s cool, small — I feel like it is

leaving a trail of sparks behind as again my synapses start firing in response to

the sensation. It glides and rolls over my breasts, pressing moderately on my

nipples and standing them upright and quivering. Slowly it tracks over my

stomach, nestling briefly in my navel before continuing its journey south. I

raise my hips to meet it, wild with a frenzied need to identify the intruder. He

laughs low, amused by my distress and need. The object slides smoothly into the

…End of the part3. To be continued..

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The night started our strangely. Ophelia had just finished re-
arranging her large library and was exhausted. As suits my
biological clock, I was just coming awake at 10 PM when she was
turning in. She invited me to bed and I politely declined: I was
horny as usual and told her I’d keep her awake. After a couple of
more requests from her, I stripped and crawled in beside her.
Ophelia loves to snuggle and wasted no time in curling her small
body up next to mine. I turned and kissed her. She was oddly
responsive for her tired state, and teased me with a hint of
tongue in her kisses. I reached down to feel her muff and found
it just beginning to rev as her right hand slipped down her belly
to her clit.

I took up what has become my customary position between her legs -
kneeling and using my cock as a sex toy to tickle her lower labia
and the entrance to her cunt. But this time I let my aim wander
lower to the wonderful curve where ass, crotch, and leg meet. I
rubbed my cock against this soft crescent and expanded the stroke
to brush against the entrance to her ass. I noticed that every
time that my prick touched her rosebud, her strokes on her clit
quickened. It wasn’t long before I was pressing the tip of my
cock against her asshole.

Surprise! My cock slipped easily into her ass until the entire
head was buried inside, and just as I was about to pull out and
apoligize, she handed me a bottle of sex lubricant and said “What
the fuck? Why not?”. I pulled back and poured the lubricant on
my hard cock and noticed her pussy was swollen and very wet. I
worked my cock back into its previous nest. It was so easy. I
could feel her ass muscles relaxing and opening for me. I eased
ever so slowly deeper. Such heaven! Like a warm, wet hand
gripping all around my prick – so much tighter than pussy, and
delightful in an entirely different way. I could feel her hips
grind against me as I worked the last of my seven-plus inches into
her back door. Realizing where I was and how long it had been
since I’d known this pleasure, I had to fight to pull the reigns
in on my orgasm.

It seemed like forever – my slow rocking pulling my cock almost
full-length out of her ass before easing it back in until my balls
rested against her firm buns. Her right hand furiously massaged
her clit and her left hand played at the entrance of her cunt,
pressing on the full length of her labia. And all the while my
cock was enveloped in a firm net of gripping muscles that wrestled
to bring the cum from me. “It’s so weird,” she said as she
searched for the grip on her own orgasm. Suddenly, it was upon
her. I felt her ass open up like a mouth that was just to blow up
a ballon. “Are you close?” she hissed. “No,” I grunted.
She was close, tho’. Too close to stop. I felt her stiffen and
lurch under me. “Uuhhhh! Come on you bastard! Fill my ass!” she
yelled as she dug her nails into my back. Amazing what a little
dirty talk will do – from that special nowhere where good men
hide their orgasms until their lovers are ready, my load bolted
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gripped the pillow with my teeth and jerked my neck back and forth
and tried not to deafen Ophelia when my cum blasted out of my cock
like water from a firehose. The rush of jism racing up my tube
seemed to last for stroke after stroke until sweaty Ophelia
gasped, grunted, and pushed me from on top of her. Since I have
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having something in your ass after you’ve orgasmed. I
considerately slipped out of her despite not having finsihed my
own orgasm to my complete satisfaction.

I kissed her and thanked her for her special gift, but she pushed
me away. “Go wash off and fuck my pussy,” she said ” I feel like
something’s undone.” So after a quick and thourough shower, I
returned to the futon where her dripping, swollen twat waited for
my not-quite-recovered cock.

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A petite blonde beauty has her pussy and ass examined
A petite blonde gallery 11 trailer gallery 11

record and book store where I worked, and she smiled the perfect smile that

beautiful women do so well. Though it was late and I was a bit tired, I

immediately slipped into “helpful employee” mode (trying not to enter “helpful

employee staring at gorgeous babe” mode, at least not yet). Fumbling a smile, I

stood up from where I’d been hunting for a pen under the table, and tried to look

helpful. “What’s your name?” she asked in a bright voice. Not a question I’d

gotten before, and it threw me a bit. “Jack,” I answered after a second. “What

can I do for you?” She looked down. “Oh, nothing,” she said, flashing her eyes

back at me momentarily, before pushing back off the desk, turning to look at the

bestseller display. “What’s popular this week?” You, I’m sure, are popular with

everybody, I thought. I let my gaze wander over her slim figure. I turn into a

real pervert at work. The other guys I work with can get pretty raunchy, but I

had only recently become a real woman watcher, and this job had let me do that

quite a bit. Once I helped a girl whom I discovered wore no underwear; my

coworkers and I had fallen over each other waiting for her to bend over the racks

again. This girl, however, was a true beauty. I’m a sucker for a pretty face,

and hers had stunned me into near speechlessness: full red lips, deep green eyes

and short dark red hair. Now my gaze traveled over her figure, slim at the waist

flowing smoothly into her hips, with a high, perfect ass — “Well?” she said,

turning slightly to look at me. I almost jumped as my eyes jerked from her

cheeks to her eyes, which drew me in as she smiled and walked back to the desk.

She leaned forward. “Were you looking at me?” she asked in a low voice. I had

a great view of her breasts but I dared not look. Think, think. “Uh, yeah, I

think you had something on your back. Here, turn around.” She grinned and

turned, and I brushed some imaginary fluff from her lower back. “Some lint, or

something. There, it’s gone. Let’s see, what’s popular… Spice Girls, of

course, and James Taylor, Celine Dion –” “Those are crap,” she offered. “All

that’s good now is fuck tunes.” “Well, yeah,” I stammered, “there’s lots of good

R&B stuff out now, like Maxwell and D’Angelo –” “That’s what I like, stuff like

that.” She looked around. “Are you all by yourself back here?” I shrugged.

“Pretty much. We’re short-staffed, and only have a few people to watch this big

place. Everybody else is working in books.” “Hmmmmmm.” She turned back to look

at the displays. It could have been my imagination, but she seemed to stand so I

would have a great view of her incredible body. The bra she wore was slightly

too small, causing her breasts to bulge slightly in the blue t-shirt. The plaid

skirt lifted and fell as she moved, short enough to show off her tanned legs. I

was sure I was making a puddle of drool on the desk as I stood gazing at her.

Maybe old enough to be a college freshman, maybe not. Did it matter? On the

silk sheets in the bed of my heart, age didn’t (and doesn’t) matter much to me,

and the possibility of anything happening was pretty slim. My stupor was

interrupted again as she turned back to me and strode back to the desk. She

perched in the same position as before, giving me a teasing glimpse. “You were

looking at me the other night, too, when I was here with my friends,” she said in

a conspiratorial whisper. Then I remembered seeing her, dressed in a similarly

stunning green cotton sundress, with some other gorgeous young lasses. My buddy

Rob had moaned at his inability to run into such beauties anywhere but work as

I’d covertly gawked. Not as covertly as I’d thought, obviously. “Weren’t you?”

She was staring at me mischieviously. “Uhm…” She narrowed her eyes and smiled

…End of the part1. To be continued..

“I can imagine!” answered Linda breathlessly. She had felt her own pussy
get a little wet as they talked, and now dropped one hand to her lap
furtively.

“So anyway, I pushed and pulled him in and out, actually fucking myself
with his cock in my mouth. Then, I don’t know what came over me, no pun
intended, I pulled his dick out of my mouth with one hand and looked up at
him. He was looking down at me like I was some kind of angel or something,
this totally incredible look on his face. I knew, deep down in my soul, then,
that I could have this amazing power over him, or any man, for that matter.
I knew what he wanted. We’d watched enough porno movies for me to see that
he always liked it when a guy spermed on a girl’s face or in her mouth. So
I looked him straight in the eye, and in the nastiest voice I could, I said
‘I want you to come right in my mouth, lover. I want to taste your sperm.’
I poured it on in the sluttiest way I could think of – you know, telling him
I wanted him to shoot his stuff all over my face and in my mouth and all that
really gross stuff we used to giggle about in high school. So I’m jerking him
a little bit, and then he just kind of grunted once and BAMMO! – right on
the kisser, he lets fly with that cock of his. I was so shocked I opened my
mouth in reflex and BAMMO! again, another spurt, this time right in my mouth.
I’m going crazy now, loving the feel of the stuff, and I jerk him some more,
and he shoots his stuff all over my face and in my mouth. It was in my hair,
and all down over my neck and tits and just all over the place!”

Kate finished breathlessly. Linda just looked at her and said “Wow.”,
arching her eyebrows knowingly. “So now you like eating cum, eh?”

“Well, I suppose so. But I don’t very often, ’cause in the last few
months, Roger’s gotten so busy with his job and all, that I’m lucky if we
even make love once or twice a month, much less have time for all kinds of
other fun stuff. But yeah, it was kinda neat, I really liked the feel of his
sperm spraying on me, and for some reason, I LOVED the taste of it – you
know, kinda bitter and salty, but interesting?”

“Katie darling, you don’t have to tell me. I’ve swallowed enough sperm
to float a battleship. It’s still my favorite drink!” she giggled. “It’s
amazing how icky and gross we would have thought this was a few years ago,
but God, now that I’ve done it, I just gotta say I love it! Hey! I’ve got an
idea!”

“What now?” Kate knew her friend had some deliciously wicked thought
that she was about to hear. “I know this is gonna involve sex and fucking,
so you might as well spit it out!”

“Kate, I NEVER spit it out!” Linda laughed. “No, what I thought was
this. We go around and see in how many different ways we can drink sperm. You
know, there’s gotta be other ways than straight from the tap, so to speak!”

“LINDA! What do you mean? Are you actually proposing that we suck other
guys off and swallow their cum? Are you crazy!”

“No, no, listen, it’s perfect. We turn the tables on the guys – you
know, wham bam thank ya ma’am? Well, we’ll make it wham bam thank ya mister!
They don’t have to know our names or anything, we’ll just rustle up, drain
‘em dry, and hustle off. They’ll go crazy wondering who we are, but they’ll
never see us again! It’s perfect!”

Kate stopped to think about it. It was the craziest idea she’d ever
heard, even from the usually whacked out Linda.

“You mean just go up to some guy we like the looks of, tell him we want
him to cum in our mouths and that’s it?”

“No, silly. That’d be too easy. No, we get them to give us our favorite
drink in strange and exciting ways! Oh hell, let’s see….like having a
waiter in a fancy restaurant jerk off in your coffee. Or the grocery delivery
boy pop off real fast in your car in the parking lot. Stuff like that!”

“Hmmmm. Yes, that could been really hot!” agreed Kate. “And we could
keep track of each of the ways that we get them to do it! Yeah, that’s
great!” she clapped her hands excitedly. “When do we start?”

“Right now, if you’re game!”

Forty-five minutes later found the ladies strolling the local mall. They
had changed into short skirts and very light sweaters. Linda had decided that
they would alternate with the ideas for getting the cum from the men they
eyed, and she would go first. She thought it would be exciting to try to
seduce a shoe salesman into giving her a sip of his sperm. The girls walked
into the first store they found with few customers and a likely looking guy.
He as a tall, dark-haired man they both found attractive. Linda sat down in
one of the fitting chairs, crossed her long legs, and inched her skirt up
even more. The salesman hurried over.

“Yes, miss, what can I do for you today?”

…End of the part2. To be continued..

Section One – The Early Years
Chapter I – Baby Bimbo

Everyone in Larchmont knew that Chance was a tramp the day she came home
from the the hospital. At that point in her life it wasn’t the rubber pants
that gave her away, or even the fact that when someone picked her up for
burping, she blew in his ear. Let me put it this way: She did things with her
pacifier that most women still haven’t done with their husbands. Is that a
tramp, or what?
It was almost unthinkable that we would ever become friends, especially
to my mother. She considered anyone who wore open-toed shoes an exhibitionist.
Chance and I were SO unalike. I mean, when I had diaper rash, she had
herpes. I’d fuss about going to bed; she’d hit the mattress the minute
someone unzipped her bunting. I slept with stuffed animals; she slept with
real ones. You get the picture.
Chance stayed different from the rest of us. She never went through a NO
phase (her first words were “Sure, sailor!”), never sucked her thumb if she
could suck someone else’s, and when she waved “bye-bye,” it was with her
panties.
Even before she was toilet-trained, that tramp’s name was on bathroom
walls!

Chapter II – Toddler Tramp

Before we even entered kindergarten, Chance was raising eyebrows as often
as her skirt. Think I’m exaggerating?? Well, how many four-year-olds do
you know who’ve had their birthday parties raided by the police? I’m serious!
She jumped out of her own birthday cake!
My mother never let me go to any of Chance’s parties after I told her
about the one where we played Simon Says with a whip. (Simon says, “DO THIS!
DO THAT!”) She’d probably never have let me see Chance again if I’d told where
that preschooler poptart had hidden the marshmallows for the treasure hunt!
Like men in later years, Chance’s toys said a lot about her; all of it
unprintable. Her dollhouse had a red light on it! Her coloring books had dirty
pictures! She was the only kid in the neighborhood who had an anatomically
correct G.I. Joe doll – and it was battery operated!!
She also had an advanced Erector set. What she did with that is better
left unmentioned.

–

Finally, Dr. Rotman gently pulled down the blanket, and Dr. Whetmore talked
to Ann, “See Ann, John is wearing diapers and baby panties just like a
little baby. He wet his diapers too, like a little baby. John likes to wear
diapers and to wet them like a baby, and needs his diaper changed now, just
like a little baby. You can do that can’t you Ann.”

As Ann said “Yes”, the doctor led her over to the couch and gave her a
fresh diaper. She had some difficulty at first, and John seemed to squirm
around a bit, but as Ann talked soothingly to him, much like a mother with
an infant at changing time, he settled back, and Ann finally got the diaper
on him and the panties pulled up.

Ann felt a small pin prick in her arm, then began to feel very sleepy, yet
her mind seemed sharp and clear and she could hear her friend talking to
her. She could see herself taking care of John at home at night and on
weekends, with John crawling around and playing in a big playpen. She was a
happy mommy now with her baby around the house, and loved changing his wet,
or messy diapers.

John was much happier now, and a very good baby. Sometimes he was more like
a little boy, but always his diapers reminded her and him that he was still
a diapered baby.

The doctor told her she would give Ann two sets of tapes to listen to for
the next week until their next session. One just for John and one for Ann.
They should listen to the one with words each evening before bed, then the
one with the music all night. This would help them accept their new roles
of mommy and baby much easier and help John get better and feel better much
sooner.

Each week from now on, they would come together for their appointments, and
Ann should keep John diapered at bedtime from now on, and whenever possible
around the house. If John started wetting his pants during the day, she
should scold him like a toddler and then put him in daytime diapers too.

It was Ok for John to wear diapers at work, since many of the other men
wore diapers too, to relieve stress. Later on Dr. Whetmore would introduce
Ann to other mommies who had big babies at home, so they could exchange
ideas and babysit for each other.

Ann found herself warming to these ideas, and began to like the ideas of
having John toddling around the house in just a diaper, panties and Tshirt.
If she wasn’t to have any little babies at home, at least she could have a
big baby at home.

Soon, both John and Ann were sitting chatting with the doctors, and Ann
found herself quite relaxed discussing the “needs” John would soon have. A
diaper bag, about 2 dozen cloth diapers and a dozen plastic panties, some
bottles and perhaps some special rompers and playsuits.

====

Back to the Beginning

As Ann and John left, Dr. Whetmore smiled to herself. She turned to Dr.
Rotman and said “You were a good boy today Danny. I guess by now you need
your didees changed too don’t you Snookums ??”

Dr. Rotman seemed to change before her eyes. He started snivelling and then
spoke in a little boy voice “Yes nana, me all pissy. Need didee change
peez.” and Dr. Whetmore proceeded to have him lay down on the couch and
gently changed his soaking diapers then gave him a bottle and talked gently
to the sleeping baby.

In about a half hour, the two doctors left for home. Danny was meekly
carrying his diaper bag and teddy in one hand while he held “nana’s” hand
with his other hand.

As she drove home, Janet mused to herself. Since coming to the Centre 6
years ago she never dreamed how successful this would be. She smiled as
they passed the town limits and she read the sign “Coucheville” and
translated from french to english, Diaper Town.

It was appropriately named.

Dr. Whetmore had worked in psychology and behaviour research for nearly 15
years, with 7 of those spent working on special government “brain washing”
and behaviour modification projects for various intelligent agencies. She
had learned her trade well and was considered one of the best behaviour
modification specialists in Canada, after leaving the US government service
to take up this position.

When her friend, Dr. Joyce Lovely, had told her of the need for a new
directory of Abnormal Behaviour, Janet had jumped at the chance. Funding
was virtually unlimited since many major corporations poured money into the
Centre for their research into buyer motivation, and the US and other
governments funded special projects for modification studies.

Janet’s specialty had always been paraphilia, the love of objects or things
not normally related to sexual acts. In private practise she had learned
quite a bit about what motivated certain individuals to want to wear
clothing normally reserved for the opposite gender, or to wear leather or
rubber. What had always fascinated her, though, were the infantilists or
adult babies. They wanted to wear baby clothing, especially diapers, and
then wanted to use their diapers like little babies, and be changed or fed
or treated as much like babies as possible.

…End of the part3. To be continued..

As they entered the room, Ann saw an attractive young woman sitting in a
chair beside a couch talking to a man who was lying on the couch with
headphones on and with a small tube going into his arm. He was covered with
a blanket up to his chest, and Ann could see his feet were bare and he was
fast asleep.

As Dr. Rotman introduced the woman, Ann learned she was Dr. Janet Whetmore,
a psychiatrist who dealt with special problems like John’s. Dr. Whetmore
talked softly to Ann for a while, and Ann began to really trust Dr.
Whetmore and to like her as though she were a long time friend and
confidante.

The two doctors exchanged knowing smiles, then Dr. Whetmore offered Ann a
glass of juice which she gratefully drank. After a few seconds she felt
very “alive” and “able to listen” to Dr. Whetmore and hung on her every
word.

Dr. Whetmore explained she was a psychiatrist who dealt with special
problems, called paraphilia. She explained these were fetishes or sexual
interests in objects or things, like feet, or clothing or a special time in
life. She explained many men wanted to dress up in women’s clothing, and
this was called transvestitism and the “love of womens’ clothing”. She
explained that a lot of men in important positions, like John’s, found the
stresses of everyday life caused them to want to escape into an easier
life, where they had no responsibilities, and a time when they were cared
for as babies.

These men wanted to wear baby clothing, and be dressed as babies,
especially in diapers and baby panties, and to wet their diapers like
little babies.

Unfortunately, their desires and their positions created further stresses
and conflicts and this sometimes made them sick, especially if there was
stress at home, or they were afraid their wife wouldn’t accept their
fetish. Then they could get really sick and have a breakdown.

Ann felt very sad, and sorry for these type of men. How could their wives
be so mean as to deny them this outlet for their stresses. The doctor had
explained these people were called infantilists, who loved to dress and
play as babies, but didn’t want to actually play “with babies” or children
at all. They just wanted to be babied and loved the way a mommy loved her
little baby.

In most ways they were as normal as any man, and could be capable lovers
and supporters, but needed to be babied sometimes to relieve stress and
escape from the pressures of their demanding roles and jobs.

As Ann thought about this it seemed to make so much sense, and besides here
was this learned doctor, her new friend, explaining it all softly to her,
and telling her she felt it was alright.

Finally, Dr. Whetmore said “John is an infantilist Ann. He wants to wear
diapers and baby panties, and be treated as a baby sometimes to help him
relieve the pressure of his job. That is why he has been so sick,
especially when you told him you wanted to have a new baby in your family.
It made him think you wanted someone new to love and care for and that you
wouldn’t accept the baby inside him and let it come out.

John is lying here now, Ann and has been listening to a special tape I made
for him to help him feel better physically and to help him feel better
about himself. He also has been receiving an IV with pentathol in it so we
can talk to him and ask him questions and get the honest answers.

Would you like to talk to John and ask him about his being a baby, Ann ?”

Ann paused for a second, while she thought about her husband, the 33 year
old executive, being a baby, then finally said “I’m not sure, but I should
find out. If that’s what he needs to get better, then I should know how to
help him. I do love him, and don’t want to hurt him !!”

“Very good Ann, come and sit over here, where John can see you and you can
talk. I’ll speak to him for a few minutes then you can ask him questions.”

As Ann pulled her chair over closer to the couch, she recognized the young
man now as her husband John. The doctor talked to John for a few minutes
and finally said “John, your wife Ann is here now and wants to talk to you.
She knows you want to be a big baby, and to be her baby, so you can feel
comfortable about talking to her. Be a good boy and answer her questions
honestly and properly, just as you do for me.”

To Ann she said “Go ahead, Ann, ask him anything you want.”

Ann hesitated at first then said “John do you feel better knowing I know
you want to be babied ??” to which he replied “Yes, much better.” then
asked her “Do you want to baby me ??”

Ann didn’t know what to say for sure, but finally said “I think so, but I
don’t have much experience. What do I have to do ??”

At this, Dr. Whetmore interrupted, and said “Ann, you just have to treat
John like a baby. Love him, take care of him. Feed him when he’s hungry,
help him get dressed, and change his wet or dirty diapers when he need
changing. You can do that can’t you ??”

At first Ann seemed a little shocked by the idea of changing diapers on her
husband, but then as the doctor told her it was just like playing dolls,
…End of the part2. To be continued..

He’d mentioned he’d seen the psychologist who’d given him some relaxation
and meditation exercises to follow, and they had seemed to help. But he’d
never mentioned seeing another doctor, and a young woman at that, from her
voice.

Now, the doctor wanted to see her next week at 4:30 during John’s “session”
whatever that was all about, and talk with her about helping John with his
problems.

Dr. Whetmore had said not to say anything to John about their conversation
or next week’s visit, which had seemed strange, but then she didn’t want
John upset. She had assured Ann there was nothing to worry about, but she
felt Ann could really help John with his problems and help him on the road
to recovery. She’d said she’d seen this in lots of young executives who
were under terrible strain to produce as they moved up in their careers.

John was the Director of Public Relations for the Centre and had just taken
over this position from his predecessor about a year ago. It was just about
6 months ago that John had started getting these headaches and stomach
aches that had sent him to the Centre’s clinic.

About that time he’d come home and told Ann that he thought there was some
“funny business” going on with the way the clinic was run, but that he
needed more evidence before he told her more.

He was always such a straight arrow, and with the amount of government work
the Centre did, he felt it his duty to find out if there was something
going on that wasn’t right. He’d occasionally tell her things about some of
the research the clinic did, but since much of it was ‘hush hush’ he
couldn’t tell much except it involved some high tech “brainwashing” and
“mind control” stuff.

Much of the work the Centre for the Advancement of Psychology, or CAP as it
was called by the employees, did was just normal psychology research with
rats, and such or studying which colors had what affect on people, and
relaxation methods and techniques for stressed out executives or high
ranking government people.

It was a fast paced environment and there was a lot of stress, so CAP ran
its own private health clinic with a full range of services from general
medical to addiction rehab, to psychology and psychiatry.

John had gone to the clinic about 3 months ago and lately it seemed to have
helped. His stomach aches were far less freguent and his headaches seemed
to go away when he closed his eyes and just let himself relax. He seemed to
hum some silly mantra or something, kind of like a familiar lullabye, but
it seemed to help and he was in a much better mood, except when Ann brought
up the subject of starting a family.

With John at age 33 and she at age 30, she felt it was time, and she badly
wanted a baby before it was too late. She was surprised at how few of the
women she knew whose husbands worked at the clinic had children, but they
seemed to poo-poo it by saying “We have our pets, and careers, and besides
these silly men are just like children anyway.”

Many of the wives worked right at the Centre, and many of them worked in
the special daycare where workers and local townspeople received excellent
daycare and nursery care for their pre-schoolers, but Ann so far hadn’t
been interested in a “career”, especially with other people’s children and
babies.

the Visit and the Secret Revealed

The week had gone uneventfully, and John seemed much better. He’d been
sleeping so soundly, he’d wet his bed twice that week, but Ann didn’t have
the heart to scold him or make fun of him. He seemed embarrassed enough
when he woke up and had to change his bed and PJs.

He’d been listening to some tape or something the doctor had given him, but
all Ann could hear was music and nature sounds. It seemed very relaxing and
soothing, but Ann didn’t have time for that nonsense.

Finally, Friday afternoon at 4:25 Ann sat waiting for Dr. Whetmore, when
Dr. Rotman came out and invited her into his office to “talk” before they
went in to see John and his associate.

While they talked, Dr. Rotman explained that much of John’s problems were
due to the stress of his job, and this silly “investigation” he’d started,
and finally decided to drop. His pressure and the strain were making him a
little paranoid, seeing “bogey men everywhere” as Dr. Rotman explained it.

While the doctor was talking he kept playing with a small shiny ball on a
thin metal chain, kind of like a pendulum, and Ann was fascinated by it as
it swung back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, with a gentle,
steady rythm, and the soft click, click as it hit the other ball. She found
it hard to concentrate on what the doctor said at first, but then it seemed
so much easier, as she relaxed and just listened to him while she watched
the ball.

Finally, the doctor said “Let’s go see Dr. Whetmore and John, Ann so we can
find how to help John with is problems.”

Ann found herself rising and taking the doctor’s arm as they walked slowly
to the room at the end of the hall, and the doctor kept talking slowly and
…End of the part1. To be continued..

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Part 4

After a couple of minutes she moved up and off of my
penis and shoved her body back on the bed until her ass was
directly over my face. I closed my eyes, expecting another
flood. Instead, I felt her tongue lick the head of my penis. I
moaned with pleasure, against my will. The wine bottle was again
in motion. Betty sat her ass down on my face, adjusting her
position so her anus was over my mouth. She told me to open it
up. I took my tongue and circled her anus, wetting it and the
surrounding area. Then I pushed my tongue against the opening.
It tasted salty and musky. The odor combined with her tongue was
making me orgasmic. I tensed my stomach muscles to increase the
pain in my bladder, warding off any orgasm. My tongue slid into
her anus. Betty sat down even harder on my face. I pulled my
tongue out and repeated this process. Betty had taken my penis
into her mouth and was doing her best to arouse me. It took all
I could to prevent my orgasm. Pretty soon her anus was relaxed
enough that my tongue went as far in as possible with no resist-
ance. Betty pulled the bottle out of my ass and stood it up
between my legs. Then she got up off my face, turned to face me,
and positioned herself over my penis and the bottle. She held on
to the bottle with one hand behind her back and my penis with the
other hand in front. She squirmed back and forth on the bottle,
gently forcing it into her anus. As she slid down on the bottle,
my penis slid into her vagina again. Betty sighed deeply and sat
down hard. She then started moving up and down the two shafts in
her orifices. This was the first time I was ever jealous of a
wine bottle! I would have liked to take advantage of this splen-
did experience, but I was afraid to add any motions for fear of
coming. She moved her hands, placing one on her clit and the
other on a nipple. Once again, she stimulated herself to a
powerful orgasm After a couple of minutes Betty got up, turned
around and moved her ass back over my face, and told me to fill
her anus with saliva. I felt her lick the head of my penis and
then spread more spit over it. She got into position over my
penis and rubbed the head around her anus. She then put the head
into the opening and pushed down with her body. the head slid in
past her sphincter. A few more partial in and outs helped loosen
her anus the rest of the way, and finally she just sat right
down, my penis fully enclosed in her rectum. She let out a low
moan of pleasure. As she moved up and down, I could see her hand
working her clit feverishly. The other hand took the bottle and
put it back in my anus. She was moving it rapidly, making sure
it rubbed my prostate. I had to clench my stomach to prevent
orgasm every time she pulled up off of me. The hot tightness of
her anus was orgasmic, but the pain in my bladder prevented an
end. After a while, Betty threw her head back and convulsed,
moaning very loudly and deliriously. How many orgasms did this
one make? I had lost count. Once again, she just sat there with
my penis deep inside her for a few minutes.
I was getting delirious by now. I was somewhat drunk, my
bladder was bursting, and I wanted to orgasm. Betty got up,
moved back again, and had her legs holding my shoulders down,
with her ass perched high over my face. I could see her face
lower down towards my penis. She removed the rubber band and
told me not to come. She started massaging my aching balls
gently, and they felt somewhat better. She held my penis up and
rubbed it around her nose. She inhaled the musky odor of her
anus and moaned. Her tongue came out and started licking the
head of my penis. It circled around the edge of the head, lin-
gering at the split on the bottom. Then her lips covered the
head and she sucked on it. She then moved her lips down the
shaft, using her tongue to keep the head stimulated. The hand
supporting my penis now went back to the wine bottle. Betty
moved the bottle in and out and side to side, making sure my
prostate got well massaged. After a few minutes I could take no
more. I started begging her to let me come. She removed her
mouth and asked me, “Am I your Mistress?”
I said yes, and pleaded again with her.
She said, “If I let you come, will you do anything I
desire?”
I answered “Yes! Anything you say,” and sang the next
line, “please release me.”
Her lips covered my penis again and she sucked extra hard
while moving the wine bottle right over my prostate. I knew I
was in trouble, since she hadn’t said I could come. I clenched
my stomach hard, but the pain was overshadowed by the pleasure.
Just when I thought I was doomed, She removed her mouth and
laughingly said, “You can come, I just figured out what I want.”

Part 4

She immediately put her mouth back to work. It took
about 15 seconds more of her expert oral skills until my body
tensed in orgasm. The first shot was almost overpowering. As
the second shot was released, I found out why she was squatting
over my face. Betty had been saving her piss again until I came!
It splattered over my face, neck, and chest. I raised my mouth
to catch it better. I kept pumping into her mouth and she pumped
into mine. My orgasm stopped before her piss, and my mouth was
full. Before I could do anything with the mouthful, she quickly
turned around and shook her head to say no.
Betty sat on my stomach, lowered her head to mine and
then moved her lips to mine. She sucked gently, so I extended my
tongue into her mouth and caught the full taste of my semen. She
pushed my tongue back out and her tongue came into my mouth and
swished the liquid around. The pressure on my stomach suddenly
registered, and since my penis was now deflated, nothing could
hold back my bladder. I started pissing and the stream must have
hit Betty, because she moaned. She took a hand and used it to
aim my penis. She wet her crack, arched her rear up and wet her
stomach and chest, and then squatted down and let the stream flow
over her back. I pushed harder on my bladder then, and piss
started flowing over her shoulders onto my chest. She got up
quickly and lay her head down face up on my stomach. She adjust-
ed the stream until it hit her in the face. She covered her
whole face. Then Betty opened her mouth and let it fill up until
it overflowed. She closed it again, and moved her head up to
mine. We kissed again, exchanging her piss, my piss, and my
come. She aimed the stream for our heads and our hair became
soaked. Finally I finished. It was the longest piss I’d ever
taken. Betty pulled the bottle out of my anus, loosened my ropes
and we embraced; kissing, caressing, and hugging constantly.
After a few minutes, the wet sheets were annoying, so we took a
nice hot bath, cleaning every square inch of each other. We put
clean sheets on the bed. I went and got some food and drink. We
ate and drank until we fell asleep in each others arms. Betty
was the first up the next morning. I awoke to a clicking noise
and found myself handcuffed. Betty quickly got her rope and tied
my ankles to the bed. She then tied my neck to the bed so I
couldn’t sit up and untie my ankles. Betty disappeared for a few
minutes and returned with my roll of Saran Wrap. She searched my
closet and took the belt from my bathrobe. She ripped off a long
sheet of Saran Wrap, making sure it didn’t bunch up, and placed
it flat on the bed. She took the belt and wound one end of the
plastic over the belt a few times. The she stood up, and put the
belt on behind her, the Saran Wrap hanging down her back. She
put a quick knot in the belt and bent down and pulled the Saran
Wrap through her crotch and up under the belt. She then squatted
down, pulled the Saran Wrap tight and knotted the belt securely.
Betty then used her hands to make sure the Saran Wrap was evenly
spread over her rear and through her crotch. She then found her
clit and gently ripped the Saran warp so there was a little hole
where it could stick out. When she was satisfied that everything
was ok, she climbed over me, squatted over my face, and lay down
on my chest and stomach. She maneuvered until her clit was over
my mouth. She then explained, “I’ve read than when elephants get
sexually excited, they piss and shit all over before and after
sex. I’ve always wondered what it would feel like. This is my
desire. I am your mistress. Your reward for obedience will be
an orgasm. Now get me sexually excited.” Betty then placed her
hands on my balls and penis, and the games began. I was really
glad I had bought extra strength Saran Wrap…

poured myself a drink.

“One night, months after, I made love to Anna and in the very moment of ecstasy,

a realization struck me. There, in her eyes, as a giddy laugh passed over her

lips, I found the instant of beauty that is there, frozen into that infernal

painting. I left our bed almost as quickly as it is conceivably possible to

abandon a woman in the throes of love, and I rushed down here and gazed into the

eyes of the painting and I knew I was right. In the strokes of his brush,

Pandolf had broken my heart. Anna had shown him the ecstasy of her soul.”

Steven seethed with living rage and I looked again at the painting, almost

embarrassed to be privy to such an intimate view of the beautiful Anna. I knew

he spoke the truth, for while at first glance the piece seemed simply beautiful,

a glimmer of the delight I had, myself, witnessed in the climactic expressions of

lovely young women glowed in the face of the portrait’s subject. I shuddered to

imagine what Steven had felt, an outpouring of furious emotion that still burned

in him.

“I pulled the curtain closed and ran from the study,” Steven said. “Anna had

followed after me, curious to see where I had dashed off to, but I managed to

meet her in the hallway. Grabbing her, I kissed my wife with more passion than I

ever had before in all our years together. In the first moment, when I looked

into the glimmering black pupils of the painting, I had felt the anger and pain

that comes from the first blow of a poisoned dagger. Her lips seemed to mock me,

almost pursed in a hungry kiss. I wanted to tear the painting down from the wall

and destroy the canvas thread by thread. But just there, beneath the smooth skin

of her throat, I could almost feel the eager pulse of her heart. Her breasts, so

soft and warm, pressed against my chest. Her arms . . .” Steven stopped. I

looked away.

“I loved Anna more than I ever had. I couldn’t care if she had betrayed me

because it seemed inconsequential compared to the pain I would feel if I lost

her. I loved her madly, with every fiber of my being, for the rest of her life.”

Steven stood and approached the painting. “And I was right. The pain of losing

her was worst of all.”

I sat dumbfounded as I looked at the painting of Anna by Pandolf, and for the

first time, truly marvelled at the passion that could be contained within a

single square of canvas, covered over by globs of oily pigment. Steven sobbed

softly. I rose and put an arm around him, feeling the magnificent adoration for

this work of art he expressed with each convulsed breath. And with a glance, I

loved her, too.

“It was years before I showed anyone else the painting. He was an old friend and

a great admirer of Pandolf’s. He told me that this piece marked the transition

for the painter. In this painting, he said, Pandolf spoke a universal truth,

taking that final step beyond the personal truths that characterized his earlier

work. That Pandolf often spoke of a great piece he had sold and forever

regretted giving up. That my Anna’s was the one.”

I nodded. I had seen the face of beauty before. The painting held a

recognition.

“Anna told me on that first night that the painter had tried to refuse to give

the painting to her. She told him they had a contract and that her husband was a

lawyer and that if he didn’t give her the painting, there would be hell to pay.

Then she gave him two hundred extra because she felt sorry.”

“Amazing,” I said.

“She loved me,” he said. “You can see it in her eyes.”

work that is being done in this country derives again from European influences.”

Steven smiled, distracted. He put down his glass and leaned forward, his high

brow slightly wrinkled.

“I don’t think we go very far describing an artist’s work in terms of

influences,” Steven said. “There is always an evolution of linguistic terms, so

to speak, but language is a living component of our expression. Substance always

triumphs over form, yet without comprehensible forms, the expression becomes

lost.”

I remember listening carefully, because I respected Steven more than anyone I had

ever known. Part of me had always believed the arts perpetrated a fraud, that a

conspiracy of critics and galleries operated to decide one piece would be

valuable and another would not. To me, a painting was pretty or it was not. The

rest sounded like poppycock. Yet Steven seemed to believe.

“I want to show you something,” Steven said and with my assent, he led me

upstairs to a large room I calculated to be his study. The south wall of the

grand space was almost entirely built of glass, windows that seemed to draw in

the broad reaches of landscape, the small pond, the gentle roll of pasture, the

distant oak forests and broad color-rich skies. A wide glossy desk sat poised

beneath the darkening panes, cluttered uncharacteristically, I thought, with a

dozen strewn volumes, piled open in a chaotic array. The east and west walls

climbed some thirty feet high with overfilled bookshelves, majestic old leather

bound tomes near piles of unkempt paperbacks. Steven approached the north wall,

where a curtain hung.

“Do you know Pandolf?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said, laughing at the notion that even someone as generally ignorant as

I could fail to know of Fra Pandolf. “I mean, I’ve never met him, if that’s what

you mean, but his paintings are already worth millions.”

“He did a painting for me, years ago,” Steven said.

“Really?” I asked, quite amazed.

“My wife commissioned a painting, as a gift. Anna had quite an eye for artists.

He was just a local back then. I think she only paid a few thousand for this.”

Steven pulled the cord which drew back the curtain.

A large canvas hung on the wall, filled with greens and blues and sunlight golds.

The subject, only slightly abstracted, was a beautiful woman, simply radiant in

her loveliness with water bright eyes, soft skin, long sensuous legs and a smile

that almost laughed out loud. I smiled, pleased, knowing the treasure Steven

showed me was a very pretty picture.

“It was our tenth anniversary,” Steven said, his eyes fixed on the portrait of

his wife, Anna. “She posed without my knowing and gave me the finished painting.

…End of the part2. To be continued..