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[Dropped]

Story 1:


"There is no way I'm wearing this!" his wife insisted, holding up the hanger and shaking the little outfit in front of his face.

He laughed. He couldn't help it. The beaded tassels whipping around sounded like a pair of maracas.

"It's not funny, Tony! I thought it would be a cheerleader outfit or something. Not... This!"

She rattled the outfit again, and he struggled not to laugh harder.

"Look, Honey. It's not that bad," he consoled, looking at it with a critical eye. "I mean, I thought he'd have you wear a g-string and pasties or something. At least this has a skirt, sort of."

Even on the hanger, the outfit was obviously skimpy. About what he expected a pervert like Shane to come up with.

"That's not a skirt. It's a fucking loin cloth with fringe! Seriously, a stripper wouldn't even wear it..."

"You can always just tell him no." He could tell she was considering it, so he prodded her a little. "I mean, he probably knew you'd refuse as soon as you saw it."

If there is one thing Dena hated, it was admitting defeat. She never minded losing a bet, not that she enjoyed it or anything, but to refuse to pay her dues was like her just giving up and dropping out of a race. It wasn't something she could do.

But, she was still on the fence, so he added, "Seriously, Babe. You don't have to do this. Shane is probably sitting out there with a stopwatch, timing how long it takes you to chicken-out."

"Fuck," she muttered angrily, tossing the outfit on the bed and crossing her arms to pull her shirt off.

---

The bet had actually been something that his friend Shane had stumbled into at dinner over at their house. Shane had just asked Dena for the hundreth time why she wasn't enrolling in fitness competitions.

Tony claimed it was because too many Amazon warrior women already hit on her at the gym. The last thing she needed was more.

Dena defended herself by claiming that a couple of biggest guys at the gym, Charles and Geoff, were always hitting on her.

Tony retaliated with a well-placed quip about them being gay as well, which had Dena shaking her head in strong denial.

And that was when the idea sparked in Shane's head. Even while laughing at the couple's playful banter, the clear concept of one simple nudge, like the toppling of the first domino, would cascade the course of events into the perfect scenario.

"Oh, they're definitely gay," Shane piped in quickly. "Have to be, always posing in front of each other. 'Yeah, pump it, Bro!'" Shane laughed to Tony.

"Shut up. They aren't gay. They're just nice guys," she defended.

"Oh yeah? Okay, if I can prove they're gay, you have to finally pose for photoshoot at my studio," he offered in a snide voice.

She laughed. "And when you lose?"

"If I lose, I'll pay for a full year's gym membership."

"Okay, deal!" she agreed quickly.

"Wait," he added. "You have to wear the outfit I pick out. I mean, no nudity, of course. But, whatever it is."

"Whatever it is, I won't have to wear it. Those guys aren't gay. Charles is always hitting on the bimbo barbies."

"So, deal?" he asked.

"Deal!" she nodded with a grin. "You do know it's like $900.00 for a year's membership, right?"

"Oh, they're gay, Dena," he replied.

The thing Dena didn't know was that Shane actually knew both men personally, having photographed them numerous times for various fitness magazines. Both men were in the professional bodybuilding circuit and he had helped each of them build their portfolios from scratch over the last couple of years.

So, the next morning he met them at the gym and asked for their help after explaining his wager with Dena. Both men knew who he was talking about right away. She was one of the hottest women going to the gym, and they always made an effort to flirt with her, even after she had made it clear that she was very loyal to her husband.

Geoff was surprisingly easy to convince. Part of his charm, other than being a hunky Romanian with thick black hair and rugged good looks, was that he was completely open to pretty much anything. His free-love nature and open mindedness made him readily agree to posing a little closer to Charles than he had previously. His attitude was, if it feels good and doesn't harm anyone, why not?

Charles, on the other hand, was a little more difficult. He was very adament about not being a homosexual. To the point that Shane wondered internally if the large black man might just protest a little too much. He made it clear that he would only do it under three stipulations. The first was that the pictures would be destroyed right after Dena saw them. Second, that he didn't have to touch Geoff during the session. And the last, that he got to pose with Dena at her shoot.

All agreed, the three moved to the gym's open showers where Charles and Geoff stripped down. Shane couldn't help but notice that their endowments seemed to be scaled up to fit their large bodies. Average on them was oversized on a normal man.

Shane used a film camera instead of digital, and took only three pictures of them together. The first was with Charles facing away, with the spray straight down on the top of his shaved head. Geoff was off to the side, looking down and admiring the black man's naked body. The next with him standing directly behind Charles with his arm up and around his shoulder. The last one was the only truly sexual one. Charles was turned in profile, with Geoff kneeling in front of him and holding his erection near the base with both hands and leaning forward to kiss the huge swollen tip. It looked like he was ready to take it into his mouth. Charles was a little embarassed about the whole thing, since he had grown erect even before the second picture was taken.

After developing a single set of the three pictures, Shane let Charles destroy the negatives.

Armed with the doctored "proof" of the duo's homosexuality, Shane went to Tony and Dena's that evening.

"Told you," he grinned, handing her the photos. "So gay it didn't even take a full day to get the proof."

Dena was absolutely shocked when she looked at the pictures.

"How did you..." she started to ask.

"Easy," he answered casually as he took the beer Tony offered. "I told them you finally agreed to a shoot at my studio but didn't want to pose with guys you couldn't trust. When I hinted that I would probably have to find a couple of gay men to model with you, they both happily admitted to being such men. They even gave me the photos to prove it to you. I guess they really think you should compete too."

Dena glared at him. "You told them about our bet? That's cheating!"

"No, I didn't," he soothed. "I just let them think you were only willing to pose with gay men."

"The agreement was never that I would pose with men, Shane," she said as she looked back at the pictures. Namely, the last picture.

Tony laughed when he saw his wife's focus. "So, Honey. Too bad that's wasted on a gay man, huh?"

She blushed when she realized she was staring at the big black dick in Geoff's hands.

"So, I'll open my studio this Saturday, if that works for you guys?" Shane asked, snatching the pictures out of Dena's hand.

"Sure," Tony laughed again. "What are you going to make her wear?"

Shane shook his head. "Still haven't decided between the lumberjack outfit and the rodeo clown. Kind of leaning toward the clown, but we'd need to get one of those barrels for her to stand in."

 

[Dropped]

Story 2:

Story 2:

The brief hesitation was the only thing that saved her. It was the stutter step caused when glanced back at the old farmhouse and misjudged the distance to the old rusted car in her path. She had to break her stride to dance around it, and the black Jeep Wrangler was already starting to slide sideways to avoid her when she skidded onto the dirt road.

She risked another quick glance backward, whipping her blonde hair over her shoulder and then spun to briefly meet the driver's eyes as his Jeep settled to a stop in the cloud of dust. Without hesitation, she closed the distance between her and the Jeep quickly and jumped up into the passenger side seat, holding the roll-bar with a white-knuckled grip.

"Please," she squeaked, glancing back toward the house again in panic.

"Fucking bitch!" a man roared as he barreled out of the house holding his hand over his eye. There was blood between his fingers as he swung his head wildly back and forth, stopping when he spotted the black Jeep sideways on the road. He started to lumbering toward her, still holding his face with one hand, and fisting his other in a meaty ball.

The girl crouched in the seat, trying to hide behind the dash. She cringed when the man suddenly stopped and held up his hands, blood dripping down his cheek from the nasty cut on his eyebrow.

She turned to look at the driver and saw that had raised up over the windshield and had leveled a pistol over the hood. His face held no emotion as he pointed the weapon at the man halfway across the lawn. Without looking her way, his lips curled slightly at one edge in a smirk.

The bleeding man turned quickly, racing back across the weeds in the front yard in a shuffling run that had his dirty jeans drooping low on his ass. He didn't look back once, and slammed the farmhouse door as soon as he made it inside.

Jason looked at his passenger as he raised the weapon and lowered himself back onto the seat.

"Where to, Miss?" he asked in a low voice that was surprisingly calm.

"Please, just go," she answered in a weeping plea, watching him slide the pistol down between his seat and the center console.

He assessed her quickly, cataloging her status with the cold detachment that came so naturally to him.

Mentally, she appeared normal for the situation - scared to the point of panic, fully in fight-or-flight mode. Yet, she was alert and thinking, glancing down where he had concealed the weapon and guaging whether or not she could grab it. That was a good sign. She was definitely a fighter.

Physically, she was healthy with great muscle tone and definition in her arms and thighs. From the way she had lept into his rig it was obvious that she was athletic, though her breasts were larger than average and might have been cosmetically enhanced. She was... Damned attractive, he admitted to himself.

She was young, maybe twenty, with thick blonde hair that hung in dirty strands. No makeup, nor perfume, and certainly no deodorant. Her filthy t-shirt was torn at the neck and ripped downward over the top of her tanned breast toward her armpit. Three red stripes marred the smooth skin exposed on her chest, fingertip marks from her assault. It looked like she had a bandage lower on her breast, the edge of it just visible through the tear in the shirt. Her jean shorts were old cut-offs, frayed on the bottom where they hadn't been hemmed and threadbare at the seams. She was wearing old tennis shoes without socks, and one of the laces had been broken and knotted in repair. Her fingernails were short and fairly dirty. There was a large gold ring on her thumb, a man's plain wedding band. It was the only jewelry visible.

His whole assessment of her took less than a couple of seconds, but when she turned back to him and noticed his looking, the fear in her stricken blue eyes grew and she quickly pulled her shirt closed.

"Alright then," he said as he reached down and shifted into first and rotated the steering wheel. He pressed the accelerator, skipping the Jeep's tires in little chirps of dust as they turned and headed down the road.

The small settlement quickly turned into open farmland and then stretched into sagebrush filled hills. The woman kept her grip on the roll-bar, and her eyes locked on the passenger side mirror trying to see through the cloud of dust behind them.

Jason reached behind her seat and flipped the small cooler lid open far enough to pull out a water bottle. She flinched when he bumped the wet plastic against her shoulder, and cowered against the door as she turned to face him.

"Sorry," he said. "Figured you might need something cold."

She took the bottle, clenching her fist a couple of times to restore the blood flow from gripping the roll-bar. Even as she unscrewed the cap, her eyes locked back onto the mirror.

"Any specific destination?" he asked after she had taken a couple of swallows.

"I'm... Uh, no. I haven't really..." she said softly, still looking into the mirror.

"Good enough," he answered. "We'll meet Interstate 15 in a couple of hours just outside of Pocatello. I lost my phone yesterday, so we'll find one for you there, when we stop for food. I have some trail mix and a few strips of jerky left, if you're hungry?"

"I'm fine," she answered after a couple of seconds. "Thanks, um..."

"Jason." He looked at her, but she just stared at the mirror.

The sun had just set by the time they made it to Pocatello, the desert climate quickly dropping several degrees. He saw her shivering, and decided maybe they would stop for the night rather than continue on like he had originally intended.

He pulled into a Holiday Inn, sliding out of the seat and stretching before he made his way around the front and into the lobby. The woman was instantly at his side as he approached the counter. She was holding her shirt together at the shoulder.

"Welcome to the Holiday Inn," the clerk greeted him, glancing down at the woman's torn shirt but quickly looking back up. "You two need a room for the night?"

"Yes. Well, two actually," he answered.

The man glanced at Jason's companion, admiring her good looks from over the counter before turning his attention to the computer and typing quickly.

"One room," the woman said clearly, turning to Jason and waiting.

Jason nodded to her. "One room, two beds," he amended, pulling out his wallet and removing his license to place it on the counter with a gold credit card. "Oh, and is your restaurant still open?"

"Sorry, Sir," the clerk replied. "Closes at ten. There's a McDonald's just down the street though. A couple of bars on the other side serve food. Or, you could order room service, cold food and snacks after hours."

"What about your gift shop?" Jason asked, seeing the glass enclosed room across the lobby.

"Oh, uh. Yeah, that's always open. I can ring you up here if you find something you like."

Once the paperwork was filled out, Jason handed one key card to the woman and turned to go park the Jeep in the lot around the back of the building. He wasn't really surprised when she joined him without hesitating. She even helped snap the soft cover on after he unrolled it over the cab.

He grabbed his two duffels and she followed as he headed to the side entrance to take the stairs up to the second floor.

Their room was a standard, with two beds, a desk, a dresser, a small flat screen TV, and an open dressing area with vanity that lead to the separate bathroom tub and toilet.

"Any preference?" he asked with a nod to the beds as he set his two bags down by the desk.

She shook her head.

"Okay, I'll take the one closest to the door," he continued. "Why don't you take a shower and I'll go see if the gift shop has something for you to wear. You can use the phone to call whoever you need to. Just charge it to the room."

She glanced at him and slowly shook her head. "Please," she hesitated. "Don't leave."

"You want to go with me?" His eyes dropped to where her torn shirt gaped open. The red marks above the edge of the bandage had faded completely, though her chest was probably bruised a bit.

She nodded, pulling her shirt closed with her hand at the shoulder.

"Don't trust my taste in clothes, huh?" he winked. "Okay, let's go see if we can get you something a little warmer. I'd let you wear something of mine but I don't have anything left that's clean."

They rode the elevator down to the lobby and she stood slightly behind him with her shoulder against the back of his arm. He felt her tense when the doors opened, and watched her quickly scan the lobby before slightly relaxing.

"Hey, DeeDee relax. We're a long long way from that farm, in the middle of a college town with people all over, and parked behind the building where nobody can see us from the road. You're safe here, trust me."

She nodded, and forced a smile for him.

"Come on," he smiled back, reaching down to take her hand. He was surprised how firm her little hand gripped his when she latched onto it instantly and pulled it against the outside of her hip.

The gift shop was mostly filled with items bearing the local university's logo, and he picked out a pair of running shorts, sweatpants, a couple of t-shirts, one of them over-sized that she could use to sleep in, and a hooded sweatshirt for her while she watched the lobby. Then, he picked a plain brown baseball cap off a stand for her, a bag of potato chips that was probably stale, and a large travel kit filled with a bunch of extra junk like a sleep mask, ear plugs, and shower cap. It was the only kit they had.

She kept him between herself and the door when they walked across the lobby. He could feel her breast bounce against his elbow occassionally as he held the items with both arms.

The clerk smiled politely at him when he loaded the counter with merchandise. After scanning each item, he put it into a clear plastic bag.

"$273.00," he announced with a little trepidation. "You know, you could get this much cheaper at the Walmart tomorrow. They carry pretty much the same ISU apparel."

"No, this is fine," Jason smiled.

The woman tugged at his arm and he glanced down to see her frowning and shaking her head.

"Too much," she whispered.

"Seriously, it's fine, DeeDee," he told her. "You need something warmer for the road."

They took the stuffed bag back up to their room and he dumped it on the far bed after tossing the potato chips on the desk.

"Okay, DeeDee. You take your shower first, and toss the shirt. I'm going to order some room service... Hopefully they have sandwiches and fruit or something. I didn't realize I haven't eaten since lunch today."

As he headed for the phone on the desk, she grabbed the travel kit and larger shirt off the bed and then faced him.

"It's Laura," she said quickly. "My boobs are only C's, so please stop calling me DD."

He chuckled, lifting the phone to his ear and hitting zero for the front desk.

"DeeDee, not Double-D. Short for Damsel-in-Distress? Nice to meet you, Laura," he said over the handset with a nod.

She turned red. "Oh," she nodded. "Uh, you too."

"Yeah, can you connect me to room service?" he said into the phone. "Okay, thanks." He cradled the phone on his shoulder and tore the bag of chips open.

"Yes, room 214. I'd like to order some food? Any sandwiches? No, that's fine. Okay, one of those, and the fruit bowl."

He cupped his hand over the receiver and met Laura's eyes.

"How old are you, Laura?"

"Twenty-two," she answered clutching the kit and shirt in front of her. She tilted her head and asked, "Why?"

"Yeah," he said into the phone. "A bottle of red... Yes, that would be good. Okay... Okay, thank you."

He set the phone down and smiled at the woman. "Don't use all the hot water."

She nodded and headed into the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later he was watching the muted TV and crunching on another potato chip. Laura had started and stopped the water a couple of times, probably using conditioner on her hair.

The expected knock on the door was soft. He verified the delivery woman through the door peephole, and then opened it to let her bring the food in on the cart.

Dressed in uniform - black skirt, turquoise jacket, white blouse with tie - the pretty hispanic woman openly admired him as she entered the room. With a professional efficiency, she arranged the simple meal on the desk while Jason pulled a tip out of his billfold.

When she finished, she pocketed the twenty he held out with a large smile.

"Thank you, Sir! Will there be anything else?" she asked sweetly with a hint of accent.

"There should be a bottle of wine too, Daria," he said, recalling her name from her nametag as he let her in.

"Oh... Yes, I'm sorry, Sir," she flushed. "I'll be right back with it, Sir."

Jason closed the door behind her and heard Laura start the water again as he passed the bathroom.

The food was simple, a ham and cheese platter with crackers and a bowl of fresh fruit cubed. He was on his second ham and cheese layered cracker when he heard the bathroom door open and Laura call out.

"Um, Jason?"

"Yeah," he said, jumping up from the bed to come closer.

"Do you see any lotion out there? On the counter with the trial stuff?"

"Uh," he stalled while searching. "Yeah, there's a little bottle. Says it's herbal."

The door cracked open a couple of inches and her hand snaked out with the palm up.

"Doesn't matter," she replied. "I usually just use baby oil."

He set the little bottle on it and her fingers curled to hold it.

"Thanks," she said, shutting the door quickly.

The knock on the door called him away and he again verified that it was the serving woman, Daria, before opening it.

"Here you are, Sir," she smiled. "I apologize for not having it. Just the one glass?" She grinned at him, holding out a wine glass upside down and twisting it with her fingers to make it sway.

"Two, please. And, it's not a problem at all, Daria," he answered as he took the bottle and glasses she offered. "Thanks."

She seemed disappointed, but smiled. "My pleasure, Sir. Would you like me to open it for you?"

"I can manage, thanks," he answered, closing the door with his foot.

"Dinner's served," he called to the bathroom door as he passed.

He used the corkscrew of his pocketknife to open the wine, and had just finished pouring when Laura joined him.

The change in her appearance was amazing. Her blonde hair was naturally wavey. Even damp, it appeared thicker and lighter colored than before. Her tanned skin was smooth and shiny from the soap. Definitely a healthy girl, he thought as he realized how pretty she was.

The white ISU shirt wasn't as big as he thought, a couple of inches above mid-thigh rather than the knee-length he expected. And it was a little snug across her chest, stretching a bit between her breasts as she moved toward him. It was also pretty thin, considering how clearly defined the size and shape of her erect nipples were under the cloth. It looked like she had stuffed a couple of small grapes under her shirt before coming out. He was pretty certain that he would have noticed them earlier with the old t-shirt she was wearing. Maybe she did stuff something?

"Smaller than I thought," he said as he handed her one of the glasses of wine.

She shrugged with a blush, glancing down at her chest and covering them with her arm. "I told you they were C's."

"No, they're..." He glanced away, chuckling to hide his embarassment. "I meant the shirt. I expected it to be a lot bigger on you."

She sipped her wine, looking at him over the rim. "Are you calling me fat?"

He raised his hand up with his palm out. "No, no! You're not at all fat. I just figured extra large would sort of hang off you."

She frowned. "I wear a woman's small, thank you very much! This girl's extra large is about the same size, just a little shorter."

He laughed with a quick glance down. "And thinner, maybe."

"Oh," she said, turning away while still covering her chest with her arm and nearly sloshing her drink. "Yeah, that overnight bag didn't have any Band-Aids."

"Are you cut?" he asked, stepping to the side to look at her chest.

"No. Uh... He..." She hesitated, keeping her forearm across her breasts. "He cut up all my bras. So, I started just taping a few Band-Aids on to cover them so they don't poke out so much." Her neck had turned red.

"Oh," he paused. "I didn't mean... Yeah, okay. Got it. I thought you were hurt or something. I saw the bandages earlier and figured... I have a first aid kit in the Jeep if you want me to go get some?"

"No, that's okay," she said quickly. "It's a little cold in here is all."

"Here..." He stepped over to her bed and grabbed the sweatshirt, tossing it to her.

She caught it, moving her wine out of the way and using her free hand. The bouncing dance of her nipples was brief as she turned away and set the wine on the dresser. She slipped her arms into the pullover hoodie and lifted it over her head. When she did so, her t-shirt rose up to show the curve of her bare buttocks and the cleavage between them. The quick flash of skin clearly showed she wasn't wearing panties, and Jason could see the tan lines where a skimpy swimsuit would fit. Then, as she tugged the sweatshirt down, the elastic on the bottom hem fit just under her bottom, cupping the cheeks so that only the lower inch of the shirt covered her legs.

"Oh, that's better," she said as she turned around, looking down at her chest where the bumps of her thick nipples were still obvious but not as pronounced. "Thanks, Jason. I should have thought of that before I flashed you."

"No panties?" he asked.

She gasped, turning quickly again and sloshing a little wine this time as she struggled to pull the sweatshirt down lower on her legs with one hand. He kept his eyes up to avoid making it worse for her.

"I..." she said quickly. "Uh... They were..." She dropped her chin and mumbled, "I sort of pee'd a little in them at the house and I... I didn't want to put them back on." Her statement embarassed both of them, but he nodded and set his glass aside.

"I don't blame you. You can wear the shorts here," he offered, lifting the black pair of running shorts from the bed and ripping the tag off for her.

He turned away when she took them, and he heard her glass clink down on the dresser before she shimmied into them.

"Thanks," she said openly, the relief in her voice clear. "I didn't mean to flash you like that, but at least I shaved off all the stubble first."

He laughed, picking up his wine.

She questioned him with raised eyebrows, which made him laugh harder.

"I really hope you don't have stubble on your butt, Laura," he snorted. "But if so, I think you got it all because it looked pretty smooth."

Her cheeks reddened, and she covered her chest with her arm again, but then laughed.

"I thought..."

He smiled, shaking his head as he grabbed another slice of ham.

She hooked her thumb of the shorts at her hip and stretched the waist out a couple of inches. "They're a little tight, but the built in panties actually feel pretty normal. Like I'm wearing my silk PJs."

The shorts were tight, and pretty skimpy too with the splits on the sides stretching wide to the hip to expose the little black panties sewn in. Even with them low on her hips, the crotch pulled in tight between her legs and the details of her sex.

"So," he said after swallowing and politely looking away after leering. "You ready to talk?"

She loaded her hand with several sliced of cheese and ham. Taking her wine glass from the dresser, she sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him.

"Yeah. I guess so." She took a deep breath and then a swallow of wine. "First, let me say thank you. I mean, it would have been bad if Jimmy had caught me. It wasn't the first time he'd tried to get me, but it was the closest." She nibbled on a piece of cheese and then took a sip of wine. "I whacked him in the face with a heavy book when he grabbed me."

Jason nodded. "A fraction lower and he wouldn't have chased you. Remember that next time?"

She nodded.

"He's my cousin," she continued. "He and Uncle Rupert own that shit hole now. I never liked living there, but my Dad really loved the place. He, my dad, passed from cancer about six months ago, and we'd been living with Aunt Charlene in Ohio for almost a year. We moved pretty much right after he was diagnosed because her place was close to a cancer treatment center. She helped Dad get enrolled. They'd been close, Dad and Aunt Charlene, since my mom died. I was pretty little, but I remember Aunt Charlene came and stayed with us that summer. They might have even married if she would have been willing to commit to living at the farm. Anyway, when Dad passed, I put the house and land up for sale. It took several months, with me lowering the price over and over, until finally I just sold it to my uncle and cousin. I figured that keeping it in the family would make Dad happy. Dad never talked much about his brother, but he never said anything bad about Uncle Rupert. I wish he had. I guess the guy's been married four times or something, and is pretty abusive. Not physically, but he is one of those, 'a woman's place is in the kitchen or bed.' Really has a twisted gender bias. When I came back with my car towing a trailer to pack up and haul the last of our stuff out a couple of weeks ago, he greeted me at the door with a list of things that I needed to do - laundry, cooking, and cleaning. They were living like pigs and had trashed the place. Everything they didn't want was thrown into my old room. I mean, everything that Jimmy couldn't pawn."

She took another swallow of wine, and then ate a bite of ham.

"Jimmy wasn't so bad when his dad was around, but as soon as Uncle Rupert was out the door... " She took another deep breath.

"The first few days I spent going through all the stuff in my room. It was all that was left of our lives, and I didn't really talk to them other than at dinner. Uncle Rupert got more and more mad each day when he had to do the cooking. By the end of the week, I'd loaded the trailer and was ready to just get out of the place. Jimmy was getting more and more crude with his comments, and Uncle Rupert was going out and trying to work the farm to get it back into shape after being abandoned for a year."

She drank another swallow.

"Then, the morning I was ready to leave, I packed up my personal stuff and headed outside to finally get away from the hell they'd turned the house into. My car was gone, along with the trailer. I don't know if Jimmy hot-wired it or had someone steal it, but I know it was him. I still had the keys, so I couldn't say anything to Uncle Rupert about it. I called the state police and reported it stolen. They sent out an officer that filed the report for me. About all I could do was wait for it to show up."

She started crying.

"Laura, it's okay. You're safe here. I won't ever make you do anything you don't want to do, and I'll get you back to your Aunt Charlene."

She continued crying, her head lowered and tears dripping down her nose to land on her thigh.

"Honestly, you're safe, Laura," he promised. "I'll protect you."

She sobbed quietly, and it took over a minute before he spoke again.

"Okay, here's the plan. You're coming with me," he told her.

"Wh-where?" she sobbed, looking up just enough to see him.

"Just outside of Portland. I have a house there that's secure. And then tomorrow night we'll call your Aunt and arrange for you to catch a flight back to her. Or, we can fly her out if you'd feel safer. Does that sound okay? I mean, if you'd rather do it differently..."

"No. That sounds better than hitch-hiking. I don't have any ID, money, or anything on me."

He chuckled. "We'll get you that, or Claire will once we get home. You'll love Claire. She's my savior." When she frowned at him, he ellaborated. "I guess she's still my housekeeper, but I've known her for years and trust her with almost everything. She's one of those people that you can share an idea with, and she'll either help you with it or tell you to leave it alone. I learned pretty quickly to trust her, because she's never ever been wrong in anything. Seriously, it's freaky."

"So," Laura started. "You love this Claire?"

He nodded. "I do. I think you will too."

She lowered her head, but said, "Okay. I trust you."

They finished up the food and wine while sitting on their beds and watching TV. Neither said anything, but he kept glancing at her and catching her watching him. Likewise, he kept turning away whenever she caught him. It was strange, almost childish, but no matter how immature it made him feel, he couldn't stop.

It was just past midnight when he glanced over to tell her he needed to get to sleep and caught her looking at him again.

"Jason," she said softly. "You saved my life today, or yesterday now. I want you to know I'm thankful and all, but... Going to your house tomorrow, I mean. I think your a decent guy and all, but... Don't expect me to ever sleep with you." The last was said quickly but sternly, like she was scolding him.

He frowned. "I would never expect that, Laura. Not from any woman. And, especially not after knowing what you just went through."

He stood and turned off the ceiling light and then tossed the TV remote onto the bed beside her. Turning his back to her, he stripped off his shirt and pants and climbed into his bed wearing only his boxers. Though sleep didn't come right away, it came before she turned off the TV.

The next morning had him rolling out of bed at 5:30 am. He knew it was, because it always was. Regardless of how late he stayed up, 5:30 am was the marker for his internal alarm clock that had him up and awake every single morning. Sometimes he took a nap, but that was only when he was under 3 hours sleep for the night.

Working quietly, he prepared and started the four-cup coffee maker in the room and then slipped into the shower. Twenty minutes later he was dressed and finishing his first cup of coffee. Ten minutes after that, he snuck out the front door with his duffle bags and headed down to load the Jeep. The vehicle's security system hadn't been tripped, not that he'd expected it to be, but with a soft-top it was pretty darned easy to get into. He unlocked the door and tossed his duffels into the back seat with the cooler and climbed into the driver's seat.

Half an hour later, he used his keycard to enter their hotel room with a drink tray and two bags of fast food.

"Hey, Sunshine," he called gently in sing-song, nudging the bed with his thigh a couple of times until she shifted away. "Time to rise up and shine your light across the world."

"Shut up," she groaned sleepily, rolling away so her back was to him.

"Laura," he called softly, setting the drink tray on the nightstand and russeling the bags of food. "Time to get up and join the living."

He took his large cup of coffee from the tray and sipped it, savoring the hot liquid that was so much better than the hotel's.

"I wasn't sure how you liked your coffee, so I got it black but made them pack 10 creamers and 5 sugars," he said in his normal voice that seemed to echo in the silence. "If you want something weird like vanilla bean stir sticks or a sprinkle of cinnamon, I'm sorry, but it's not gonna happen this morning."

She groaned again, but shifted around and rolled onto her tummy.

"Hey!" he shouted at twice the volume, making her jump as he nudged her leg. "Get your tiny butt up! Dawn is burning and you can always sleep in the car. Only have about 10 hours or so before we're there, and I don't want to be late."

"Late for what," she grumbled.

"For Claire to take you shopping. I mean, unless you want me to go bra shopping. I could, you know? I've never been into Victoria's Secret, but I've seen commercials so I know they'll fit you."

"Too short," she mumbled.

"Too short of a bra?" He gasped. "Really? OH! You mean the underwear might be too short! Got it. Cause of your hairy butt flashing and all."

"Shut up," she groaned again, laughing into the pillow. "Not enough sleep. Let me sleep in."

"Can't, Laura. Gotta hit the road and make it to Portland before the stores all close. Figure you'll get 2 to 3 hours of shopping time today if we hurry."

"Jason," she moaned. "It's too early."

"No, DeeDee, it's not. We seriously gotta get started. So, here's your coffee." He lifted her shoulder enough that she rolled to her side so he could hold the coffee under her nose. "And, we have two breakfast wrap things with egg and sausage, and a side of hash browns. Let's go go go!"

"God," she groaned, taking the coffee and sitting up with her long hair covering half her face and a bit of drool on her lower cheek. "Fucking morning people suck."

She didn't take very long to wake fully, and they ate within fifteen minutes.

"I gotta shower," she said as he threw the bags into the trash.

"You're cool, you're clean, you're an angry hulking green! Non-morning people suck!" he shouted, tickling her briefly as she squirmed and then tugging her upright off the bed. "Grab your sweatpants, Chicky-Poo, cause it's a little chilly out still. And, grab the rest of your stuff cause we are so OUTTA heeeeeeerrrrre!"

She shook her head as he placed the baseball cap over the back of her head and tugged it down on her forehead.

"You're a complete fucking asshole in the morning! It's not even fucking seven-o'fucking-clock and you're spazzing out like a dang crack-head!"

He shook his head in denial as he tossed the sweatpants to her. "You dress, I'll drive, and we'll hit my place by FIIIVE! Morning people rock!!" He spiked his empty coffee cup on the floor and did an exagerated chicken dance between the beds.

She laughed, harder when he made his legs go in and out like the chicken wings too.

They checked out quickly and were on the road by 7:30. He did let her brush her teeth and wash her face before pulling her out of the bathroom.

Once they were headed down the highway, he glanced over at her.

"Laura, I'm not always like that in the morning."

"God, I hope not," she laughed. "Seriously! I can't handle that."

"Well, no worries, and I'm sorry I was so pushy earlier," he said without glancing over.

"If you ever wake me up like that again..."

"Like I said, no worries," he repeated without emotion. "Not sure I'll ever wake you up again at all. I just wanted to apologize for waking you up like that, but we seriously needed to get out of there. I don't think Claire will want to go into Portland too late, and I don't know you well enough to go clothes shopping for, uh, intimates."

He could see her looking at him out of the corner of his eye but he just looked ahead. It was a long stretch of go-nowhere-highway leading across the base of Idaho toward the Rocky Mountains. Some of the resort towns in Idaho were pretty high-class. The whole Sun Valley area, with all the little towns like Ketchum and Hailey were beautiful. But the stretch from Pocatello to the next decent town of Twin Falls was barren and long.

"Jason," Laura said, interrupting his thoughts. "Why are you doing this? I mean, helping me like this, because it's a little out of your way to take me across two states to your house. Seriously, I'm not going to jump in bed with you, if that's what you're expecting."

He risked a glance at her and nodded, turning back to the road. He flipped on the radio and switched to satellite. SiriusXM always made him laugh on the comedy channels, and he hit the first one, Laugh USA. It sounded like an older comic, Brad Stine or something. He was talking about some back woods scenario that quickly lost his interest. Cosby came on right after, so Jason switched to Blue Collar Radio. Ron White was on, and even though he'd already heard it, Jason laughed with the Sears Tire College jokes.

"I didn't mean you weren't attractive," Laura interrupted. She turned the radio down. "I mean, you are. Okay? Attractive and all that. I just don't want you to think I owe you that."

"I got it," he answered cooly. "I understood that last night. 'Saving you,'" he said with one hand making air-quotes, "doesn't mean I should expect you to sleep with me." He shrugged. "Got it the first time. I understand."

He turned the radio back up and switched to Carlin's Corner. Something about George Carlin always made him think about life in a better way.

They only stopped a few times during the day. One was to use the bathroom, another to pick up burgers for lunch, and a third to again use the bathrooms and stretch. They didn't talk much, which seemed to make the drive even longer. Having a passenger in the car and not talking seemed unnatural, yet neither made the effort to start.

Jason could see Laura watching him throughout the long day. She turned her body a quarter turn to half face him and leaned against the door bar. She dozed a bit, once for nearly an hour, but the times when she was awake she was watching him more than the open land or mountains they were passing through. He tried to keep her out of her mind, but feeling her eyes on him was distracting and he couldn't switch into that long drive mental state he usually did that let him eat up the miles without any memories.

At last, he took the exit before Portland that would lead him to his home. It was only around ten more miles to reach it, northwest right on the coast. He punched his code into the keypad at the gate and waited as the large iron gates parted.

 

[Dropped]

Story 3:

Story 3:



Cake leaned his head forward with a slight nod, watching both men as they acknowledged and then slowly circled him. The gravel of the fenced field crunched under their feet.

The first one, a little cockier and maybe with more to prove, seemed to be exagerating his movement. It didn't matter much, but Cake noted it. As expected, the other moved first, but Cake surprised them both by leaping forward in a rolling lunge that swept the cocky one's legs and dropped him forward. The other man tried to follow, but with two quick back-handed knuckle raps to the base of the fallen man's skull, he was already rolling to the side and leaped out of it, slashing at the crouching man's face with the rubber blade so quickly that he didn't have a chance to raise his arms. Surpisingly, the move scored well, bruising from the temple and just clipping the bridge of the nose with the stiffened edge as he carried the strike through.

Both men stood slowly. The poor actor rubbing the back of his head from the heavy knuckle pounding he'd received, and the skilled one wiping blood from his twisted nose where it bent toward his cheek.

"You," Cake addressed the first. "Don't be so obvious when you are running a play like this. Feints are only effective when they aren't clearly defined or projected like you tried."

"Yes, Sir!" the man shouted obediently.

The slap of Cake's hand was so quick that the man's head had turned to the side before he even realized he'd been struck.

"Don't you ever fucking 'Sir' me in the field!" Cake hissed through closed teeth.

The man nodded curtly, with his cheek white from the sudden impact.

"Only a fucking maggot betrays his brothers. Don't you ever forget that, soldier."

"Aye, Aye, Cord!" the man responded quickly, visibly shaken but trying to remain professional.

"And you," Cake said, turning to the other man abruptly, but breaking into a smirk. "Nice job overall. If dipshit here hadn't been so obvious, I would have gone after you first, like you planned."

The man nodded with a smile. "Uh, medic?! You broke my fuckin' nose again, Cord," he responded, spitting blood onto the gravel without taking his eyes off of his instructor.

"Damn right I did, Terry! Stop sticking your fucking honker out so far," Cake responded with a grin. He nodded after only a moments pause. "So, I guess I'll buy tonight?" He nodded again to the other man whose cheek now clearly showed the individual fingers from the slap.

Terry grinned, blood coating the gaps between his teeth. "Damned fuckin' right you will, Cake." He spat again, but nodded respectfully at the assassin. "How the fuck you move so freakin' fast..." he mumbled, still staring at Cake. He shook his head.


--> Heather

Shaving herself was one of the things that Heather really enjoyed. When her boyfriend Mark had asked that she first try it, she argued with him. She thought it was silly, and would make her look like a little girl. Now she was glad he had insisted.

It had become a quiet time of self-meditation each morning. She shaved under her arms and her legs each day in the shower using body soap as shaving cream. Then, she would sit on the bathroom counter and slowly check for stubble between her legs. It was pretty much just a way to pamper herself with caresses. She could barely feel the stubble after a single day's growth, but she would still meticulously perform the morning ritual. Even though she had never really had much body hair, she had the shaving process down to a science that ensured she never missed a hair. Always the same, she started with a hot washcloth soak and then painted herself with a thick lather of shaving cream. She shaved in three distinct steps; first the downward swipes going with the hair, then the sideway swipes always toward the center, and finally the outward and upward swipes against the hair. She knew exactly how to stretch her skin, where to pull and where to push, to get every last dot of dark stubble.

Her most favorite part of the daily ritual was when she was finished. She rubbed a little baby-oil over her smooth skin making sure to cover every inch from her anus to her naval, and then spent a couple of minutes intimately playing until she had a small orgasm. It was the perfect start to every new day.

Once she finished, she took a second to throw a little eye-liner on and a dash of pink lip-gloss. Mark really wanted her to wear mascara and eye-shadow, but it felt too artificial to her so she only did that when they were home alone.

Mark wanted a lot of things. He wanted her to dress differently and was always buying her new clothes. They were slutty clothes, and she wasn't comfortable at all wearing them. Even when she relented and wore skimpy clothes at home, it didn't seem natural for her. She was a pretty shy person, or maybe just modest. A lot of that was because she had always received the worst kind of attention from guys. Cat-calls and leers, even the occasional pinch, swat, or squeeze were unwanted and made her feel threatened.

It all came down to insecurity. And it was all due to her boobs, or more specifically, the nipples adorning her boobs. Heather had always been pretty, but she didn't develop physically until later in high school. A group of the popular girls, who seemed to have been born with huge breasts, began relentlessly teasing her when she went out for eighth grade volleyball. There was a large turn-out for the sport, and when she came into the gym in the t-shirt and shorts that made the school uniform, a lot of girls pointed and whispered. But the group of popular girls with breasts singled her out and started chanting "Bumps, Bumps, Bumps!" The t-shirt did nothing to hide the thin, bullet-shaped swell of her nipples on her braless flat chest. The label stuck with her all the way through the first year of high school. And then, in her junior year when her boobs finally started ballooning on her chest, her nipples seemed to grow with them. No matter what she wore, they were obvious. Her mom bought extra pads to wear in her bra, but the extra padding just made her boobs even bigger. The popular girls switched her nickname fairly quickly because Bumps only called attention to how well endowed her chest had become. Instead, they started calling her Slut or Whore. They couldn't stand how their little mousey target had because the center focus of the majority of the popular boys.

When she was asked to a party by one of the cutest boys in the school, Jerry Simpson, she jumped at the chance. When he tried groping her in the car on the way, she over-reacted and slapped him on the arm. He just laughed as he pinched her nipple harder through her blouse. She slapped him again, but straight on in his face, bloodying his nose. He slammed on the brakes and kicked her out on the side of the road yelling obscenities at her. She walked a mile and a half back to her home in tears. School after that was even worse, because the boys started using the Whore label whenever they saw her. The rumor was that she had demanded money and Jerry kicked her out of the car because there was no way he'd ever pay for sex with a hooker.

It didn't stop the boys staring at her, but it did create a definite social barrier at school. A lot of the guys started asking her how much as they passed her in the hall. More than a couple of them were actually serious. Once she became the focus of bullying from both sexes, Heather fell into even deeper depression, trying to hide herself and avoid all attention. When her grades dropped dramatically, her mother pulled her out of school. She was home schooled her senior year and didn't attend the graduation ceremony.

She was still a virgin three years later when she met Mark. After only three months, she moved into his house. And shortly after that, he started the campaign to get her to loosen up.

The shaving was something he asked for right away, because she really liked when he used his tongue on her. It didn't really take much convincing; he simply told her he didn't like getting hair in his mouth. She told him she really didn't want to look like a little girl, but he immediately told her he wouldn't want to lick her anymore. And, that was it… she shaved herself. After that, he always seemed to look after her satisfaction first, and was constantly initiating long sessions with his face buried between her legs. She absolutely loved it. Especially when he had just shaved his face and was so smooth between her spread thighs.

She just felt a little guilty because he rarely let her go down on him. She thought she was actually pretty good at it. The first time was pretty exciting for her. She remembered having read somewhere that a boy really liked it when a girl could take all of him in her mouth. So, she kissed the tip of his penis, and then lowered her mouth over him completely. The hair wasn't so bad, but when she pressed her tongue up to feel him against the roof of her mouth, it pushed his balls apart into her cheeks. The warm liquid that quickly hit the back of her tongue in a couple of thin spurts shocked her and made her swallow automatically. His sudden panicked yelp and the spasms of his legs told her maybe she had done it wrong. Apparently, swallowing made her bite down just enough to squeeze his balls painfully.

He yelled out, "I thought you were going to bite them in half! Next time, just suck my dick and leave my balls outside your mouth. It's way too much when you suck everything in."

He was right. Later attempts had him lasting up to a full minute when she only sucked his penis into her mouth.

After she started shaving daily, Mark started watching her when she dressed in the morning. He commented on how the sweaters she wore were for fat people, and didn't look good on her body. He made fun of her padded bras and how stupid hiding her nipples was. He laughed at her underwear, calling them granny panties. It really hurt her feelings, but she didn't want to make him upset.

"It's what I have," she argued. "They're comfortable."

So, he started buying things for her to wear instead. He quickly switched her to smaller panties, then to thongs, and now had her wearing the tiniest of g-strings. She didn't mind so much because they all looked really cute on her, and the little g-strings left the sides of her mound exposed to rub against her pants or shorts. For some reason, feeling the rougher fabric rub her bare skin there made her feel really naughty.

He then followed with the bras. He didn't have too much success at first because she simply refused to let her nipples show in public. When he got her a couple of new sweatshirts that looked really good on her and didn't really show her nipples even braless, she decided she could do it and started wearing a couple of the sheer bras he had purchased.

He started buying more outfits for her, but most of them were just too revealing for her to even consider. Some of them were obviously just costumes for her to wear at home, and she had to admit it added a fun spice to their active sex life.

She checked her makeup one more time and then headed into the bedroom to change.

The thin cords of the pink g-string rolled up as she tugged them up her lean thighs and she spent a moment unrolling them before pulling the thin cords over her hips. Even after pulling the mesh panel snugly against her skin, the net-like front barely covered her inner labia and left the entire outer lips uncovered. She reached down and let her fingernails bump over the top of her thong where it pressed against her clitoris. She let her fingers drop another inch and could feel the bumps of her swollen lips pressing through the net. The sensation was nice - a tickle that only touched the portions of skin that pushed through the mesh.

She grabbed her bra, the one Mark had bought for her a couple of weeks earlier, and put her arms through the straps. She wondered again why she even wore the thing. It was so thin that she might as well just cut the cups out. It didn't offer any support, nor did it do anything at all to hide the prominent nipples she had. But, something about the feel of the straps around her chest and the tug of the straps on her shoulders gave her confidence. Mark really wanted her to go braless everywhere, but she was too conscious of her nipples.

She threw on one of her newer sweatshirts and a pair of jeans with tennis shoes and looked at herself in the mirror.

She smiled at her reflection and adjusted the clip holding back her light brown curls before heading to the library.


--> Cake

"Cord," the man in dark dress blues greeted with a feigned smile from behind the desk.

Cake stepped inside and closed the door behind him, and then stood rigid.

"Sir," he responded blandly.

"I heard you had some issues with Cory Blake," the First Sergeant replied.

"Sir," he repeated with a a nod.

"Cut the shit, Cord. After all of your 'Sir' shit with Cory... Don't think I don't know what you mean by it. So, just cut the shit and talk to me. At ease and all that..."

Cake adjusted quickly, slipping into a casual stance before pulling a chair back and seating himself in front of the oak desk.

"Fuck, Jeremy. The kids a fucking liability," Cake submitted.

"You don't think I fucking know that? Jesus! His dad pretty much paid for him to get into the program, and the whole fucking family is too proud to accept that one of their own might not make the cut."

"Won't make the cut. He's a liability," Cake repeated.

"He is. He's a fucking well-placed and politically pushed liability. And you shit in his fucking Cherrios and made him eat it. Twice now."

"Jeremy, we're supposed to be the best of the best here."

"Well, no fucking shit! We ARE the best of the best." The First Sergeant leaned back in his chair. "Fuck, Cake. This one's a pass. I don't have much choice in it. His dad is pushing it and I just don't have any foot-hold."

Cake shook his head. "I won't pass him. He's a liability."

"You don't think I already fucking now that? Jesus! My hands are fucking tied on it, Cord. There's nothing I can do."

"I won't pass him," Cake repeated.

"Fuck you, Cake!" the First Sergeant shouted. "Fuck you and your God-damned priorities! This kid has contacts, and if you don't fucking pass him through for the Special Ops, his daddy will get aggressive. And if that fucker gets involved we're screwed! Your pension, my pension, and everyone through the whole God-damned chain of command will be screwed!"

"It's not going to happen. The kid is a fuck-up, and I won't risk my people like that."

Jeremy leaned forward, his eyes reddened in anger. "Then you're fucking out, Cord. Is that what you want?"

"Then I'm fucking out," Cake replied coldly. He stood. "If that's all? SIR?"

The First Sergeant's face was red as he looked up into the other man's eyes. "You sorry, stubborn, son-of-a-bitch! Fuck you, Cord! Consider yourself on indefinite leave!! I'll fucking throw the book at you in a general Court Martial!!"

"I'm sure you will, Sir," Cake responded shortly, standing straight. "Permission to leave, Sir!"

"You God-damned, egotistical fuck-nut!!" the officer responded, standing up so quickly his chair rolled backward. "Get the FUCK out of my God-Damned office!"

"Sir," Cake replied with a short nod. He spun on his heal, making it through the door quickly.

"Jesus Christ," Jeremy breathed several deep lungfuls before he sat heavily into his chair. "What the fuck did I just do?"


--> Heather

Mark saw that Heather's car was gone when he pulled into the driveway and his adrenalin spiked a bit. Anxiously, he grabbed the bag off the passenger seat and quickly walked to the front door.

"Hey, Babe?" he called when he opened the front door. "You home?" When there was no reply, he grinned and made his way to the living room with the bag.

The camera wasn't the smallest available, but it was wireless and had a microphone, motion sensor, and battery pack that added a lot of bulk that normal spy-cams didn't usually have. It fit perfectly in the fake plant on the mantel of the fireplace and even knowing it was there it was hard to spot when he stepped back. The mantel was the ideal spot for it since he had moved his new flat-screen television in front of the unused fireplace.

He grabbed his laptop and verified that the full color picture was focused correctly on the couch, and then checked the sound by turning on the television and moving into another room. It was perfect. He turned on the motion-sensor and then set the camera to sleep mode. It switched on automatically just as he walked into the room and he didn't even hear it click.

Mark was more anxious than ever for Heather to get home. She was the hottest girl he'd ever dated, and now that she was living with him it was really hard to keep his hands off of her.

Most girls had teased him for being so small. He tried to make up for it with lots of tongue and finger action, but once they saw or felt him, they either laughed at him and left or gave him a pity hand-job and left. Some of his co-workers dated those same girls afterward and had nick-named him Mighty Mouse - or Mighty Mark - to tease him about it.

Well, Heather was different. She loved him and never failed to service him. They fucked a lot, and he always got her moaning. She was so hot, and if he could just get her to start dressing hot all his co-workers would know it too. That was what made him come up with this new plan. If he could get her all dolled up and record it, he could show them how hot she really was. He knew she was far more attractive than those other girls, and her body was better than any porn star's. So if he couldn't convince her to stop dressing so conservatively in public, he'd record her in a hot outfit at home to prove it to his friends at work.

Heather didn't get home until a couple of hours later, and had stopped at a deli to get sandwiches for dinner. They talked about their day while they ate - about his work and what projects were coming due, about the class she was worried about and the test that was coming up. It was nice, and she was happy when he opened a bottle of wine and then led her to the bedroom still talking about school.

She blushed when she saw what he had laid out on the bed for her, and shook her head with a quick motion that sent her brown hair flowing back and forth behind her.

"No way am I wearing that," she insisted.

"Oh, come on, Babe! You know how hot she looked in that video."

The little outfit was the Catholic school girl outfit Britney Spears had worn in that video years ago, with the little checkered skirt, black knee-highs, and white blouse.

"It's too corny," she said, still blushing.

"Every guy's dream though, huh? Come on, just try it on."

"No way," she said again. She could see the hurt in his eyes. "Let me find something else to wear for you instead. That stupid outfit is just too goofy for me."

"Cheerleader or nurse?" Mark asked quickly.

"I'll throw on something you'll like, you horny dog." She laughed, and patted his tight butt as she shooed him out of the room and shut the door behind him.

Mark quickly went to his laptop in the living room and rechecked the camera's feed. He made sure the motion sensor was still active and then put the camera back to sleep. He closed the laptop and put it on the bookcase where he always kept it.

Let's see, Heather was saying to herself as she looked in her closet. Something sexy, and revealing. She had a couple of dresses he'd like, even a mini-dress he had purchased for her. But, she didn't think those were sexy enough for him. School girl, cheerleader, or nurse was what he seemed into tonight. What would be along those lines? She wandered over to her dresser and started looking through her things. She pulled the tight little black jogging shorts she occasionally wore under her sweats and tossed them on the bed. Then, she found an old gray tank top from her sophomore year in high school. It was pretty thin, and the elastic straps that ran over the shoulders were pretty worn out. Perfect, she thought and added it to the shorts. She looked some more and found an old pair of gray leg warmers her mother had given her years ago as a joke when she wanted to start taking dance lessons.

She quickly stripped, removing her bra but paused to run her fingers over the little mesh of her thong. Damn, that did feel nice. After few seconds of tickling the bulging skin, she stripped those too and kicked them by the hamper.

The shorts were a stretchy spandex meant to be worn with underwear. She pulled them on without, and felt the fabric conform to her ass as she lifted them snug. She pulled them up a little tighter and felt the seam at the crotch sink into her cleft a bit. Then, she rolled the top down a couple of inches so that they were low on her waist and showed her hip bones. She looked in the mirror and could see it really split her into a camel-toe, and the back was an inch up on her buttocks. The black fabric really made her skin look white, and she thought maybe she should spend some time in a tanning bed to get some color.

The shirt felt like it might rip when she pulled it over her full chest. She didn't have boobs her sophomore year and the shirt really had to stretch to go over them now. It bent her nipples down as she squeezed into it. She struggled to pinch the fabric to lift it off her nipples and finally reached a hand down into the low neckline and tented the fabric to let them point straight again. Her hardening nipples looked like thimbles sticking out. She stepped back and looked at herself. The shirt was a little long, only showing the little strip of skin on her hips where she had rolled the shorts down. She grabbed the right side of the shirt and tied a quick half-knot in it at her ribs. It lifted the other side up high over her hip to really show off her naval and flat tummy.

With a little grin, she sat on the bed and pulled on the leg warmers. They were soft, and tight enough that she knew they'd stay up. She rolled the top edges down so that they were even on the lower part of her thighs. They looked almost like heavy stockings on her long legs, and she plucked at them to help them look softer.

Satisfied, she looked through the bottom of her closet and found a pair of three-inch black pumps. They felt fun on her feet, and made her feel like she was swaying her hips when she walked in front of the mirror.

Dang, she thought, looking at her body. If this doesn't get him hard, he's gone gay on me.

"Mark?" she called as she opened the bedroom door.

"Yeah, be right there, Babe," he called back from the kitchen. "Grab a seat on the couch and we'll watch a movie?"

Heather glided into the living room with her hips swinging and stood there. She was anxious for Mark to see her, and didn't want to be seated because it wouldn't have the same effect. She turned to face the doorway and tugged the shorts up a little more to make sure they were really showing everything. Then, she lightly pinched her nipples a couple of times, tugging on the sensitive nubs to make sure they were at full attention.

When Mark walked in with the full glasses of wine, he nearly sloshed some onto the carpet. His girlfriend looked just like a life-sized Barbie! Only, this Barbie was obviously anatomically correct. He could see her camel-toe right through the shorts, and her long nipples were really poking out through the tank-top.

"Wow!"

Heather could hear the admiration in his voice and felt her own arousal grow.

"You like?" she teased, turning around slowly so that he could admire her from every angle.

"I like!" he answered, setting the wine down on the coffee table and pulling her into his arms.

She kissed him passionately and felt his tongue press in to lovingly dance with hers as she ran her fingers through his hair. She felt his hands slide down and hold her hips, turning with her so his back was to the couch with her pressing her breasts against him. She gently nipped at his lower lip, and then pulled his mouth against hers and let her tongue swirl around his. She felt his hands slide down over her firm buttocks and curl under the edge of her shorts. He pulled them up tighter, stretching the fabric and pulling it deeper into her cleft. When he released them, he cupped his hands over her now bare cheeks and pulled them apart, squeezing them as she devoured his mouth.

He spun her so that she faced the television with her back to him. He leaned his lips against her neck just under the ear and she lifted her arm around his head to press it against her. His hands moved up over her waist, one under the shirt where she had knotted it, and the other on top of her shirt. The hand under her shirt slid up to gently cup under her naked breast as he nuzzled his mouth into the side of her neck and gently bit with his lips. She closed her eyes and leaned back into him, thrusting her chest out as the hand over her shirt slid up and gently squeezed her swollen nipple.

"Uungh," she sighed as he pinched again through the shirt and let the fingers of his other hand press against her naked breast and bend the thickened nipple in a swirling circle.

He released her nipple, still stroking his fingers across the other, and lowered his hand down her shirt to her waist, where his fingers reached under the rolled fabric of her shorts. She felt his light touch on her lower abdomen, and felt his fingers spread to each side as they slid lower over her smooth skin.

"Oh, Baby," she groaned. "Let's go make love in our room," she whispered hotly.

"In a minute," he whispered back, moving his lips to her cheek.

She turned her head to meet his lips and they kissed deeply while he stroked her bare nipple and caressed her outer lips with his fingertips.

"Oh, you're soaked," he teased as his fingers slipped into her wet folds. He felt her legs shake as he gently probed and caressed the hot skin. He moved his other hand across, lifting her shirt so that his bare arm brushed against the underside of the breast he abandoned as he cupped the free one. He gently plucked at the nipple under the shirt and was pleased when he felt her legs quake again.

"Let's go to our room," she whispered again, trying to pull away.

He smiled, and gave a clear wink to the camera as she led him out of the living room and into their bedroom.


The next morning, Heather was filled with energy. Mark had really outdone himself the night before, using his tongue on her through three orgasms and then let her take him in her mouth. She went slow enough that he lasted over a full minute before squirting onto her tongue. She tried to hold his buttocks to keep him in her mouth but he was just too sensitive then and quickly pulled out. She had swallowed the few drops he spurted and tried to touch him again with her fingers, but he cupped one hand over his penis and balls to shield himself. She was a little disappointed that he had gone right to sleep afterward, but she was content with the three orgasms.

She had to admit that she really wanted him to make love to her instead of going right to sleep. It was so much better now that she was on the pill and they didn't have to use those condoms. It was hard to feel with a condom on him because it was too smooth - like a narrow broom handle. She much preferred feeling the ridge of his penis, especially when he started coming because it swelled up inside her. That didn't last long though, because he was too sensitive then. She always tried to time it, getting herself built up by remembering his tongue on her, so that she was ready to come just when he did.

She showered and then diligently performed her morning shaving ritual. She came quickly when she did her little rewarding play with her fingers, and wrapped herself in a towel before heading out to get dressed.

She pulled on a black g-string, again having to unwind the waist where it rolled up over her thighs. The flimsy things were just so small that half the time she couldn't easily figure out which was the waist and which was a leg-hole. Her labia were concealed, but the swell to her mound was bare on each side.

Her sheer little bra was still on the floor from yesterday, but she was feeling frisky and decided to wear one of her normal bras under a blouse today. She finished her outfit with a long denim skirt that had a split almost to her knee and a pair of open-toed sandals with an inch heel.

She admired herself in the mirror, making sure her nipples weren't overly pronounced through the fabric of the blouse, and then headed off to her classes.

---

Mark woke about half an hour later. His morning wood was fierce, and he wrapped it in his fist as he lay there thinking of Heather. He remembered the tape and quickly jumped up naked to retrieve it.

Flopping back down on the bed, he opened the laptop and found the folder with the camera recordings. There was one from this morning he watched first and then deleted. It only showed her as she headed out the door in her frumpy clothes. How would guys be jealous if she always wore that crap out? There were a couple of others from his testing that he deleted as well. Then, he opened the other file and settled back with his hand wrapped around himself.

Man, she was hot. And so into him, the way she lifted her tits out to let him play with them? It was too bad those shorts weren't more stretchy, but half her ass was better than nothing, and it showed her holding his head and kissing him while he squeezed it. By far, the best was showing the bottom half of her boob while he was fingering her cunt. She is so into me, he thought. The guys will be so jealous!

He quickly came, squirting two thin streams almost to his naval while he pictured the guys lusting after Heather. He grabbed a tissue from the box on the nightstand and wiped himself up before heading into the bathroom to get ready for work.

---

Scott had just hung up the phone when Mark came into his office. The guy had obviously just gotten to work because he still had his keys in his hand. Scott barely hid his scowl.

"Heya, Marky!" Scott greeted him flatly, sitting forward to rest his elbows on the desk. "What's up?"

"Got something you have to check out," Mark answered with a sly grin. "My girl surprised me last night and I caught some of it on camera."

"No shit? Mighty Mark has a girl?" Scott teased. Mark was always talking about this girl or that, but Scott knew enough of them to know it was all bullshit.

"Ha ha, Dickhead," Mark answered automatically. "Seriously, she was like all over me last night when I got home."

He set his laptop down on the desk and opened it while Scott leaned back in his chair and lifted his hands behind his head. Mark quickly found the folder and started playing the file, turning the laptop to face Scott.

As the short movie started, Mark watched as Scott's eyes widened. His chair thumped as he leaned forward. His eyes darted up and down the screen, occasionally focusing intently. He didn't look away from the screen until it finally ended. Then, with a quick click on the touchpad, he started it again, watching just as closely.

When he finally looked up at Mark, there was a look of shock in his eyes that made Mark bristle with pride.

"Pretty hot, huh? Yeah, that's my Heather. She was like all over me. Could you believe what she was wearing when I got home?"

"She's amazing," Scott freely admitted, staring at Mark and slowly shaking his head. "I mean, she is just fucking incredible, Mark!"

Mark was grinning. That was the first time in a long time that Scott hadn't called him Marky, or Mighty Mark, or Mighty Mouse. He couldn't help but stand a little straighter.

"Have you showed this to anyone else yet?" Scott asked.

"Nope, not yet."

"Mind if I copy it to a flash drive? I could show a couple of people too, if you want?"

"Hey, that's my girlfriend, Scott!"

"Yeah, kind of weird, huh? Still, she's absolutely gorgeous."

Mark laughed, "Yeah, I was just joking. Go ahead and make a copy if you want. I'll see if I can get another one tonight. I don't know if the camera would piss her off or not. She's pretty much does whatever I want. I was just lucky I hit record on it before she came in."

Scott was already plugging in the flash drive. As he copied the movie, he looked at the desktop and saw the video surveillance software. The folder the file was saved to include the name of the software, so it obviously wasn't a simple digital camera on a tripod in the room. When it finished, he popped the flash drive out and slid the laptop back to Mark.

"She's really something else, Buddy," Scott said honestly. "She's definitely a keeper."

Mark was almost looking down his nose as he grinned back. "Yeah, she was all over me, all night long."

"Is she a model? She looks like she could be a porn star, I mean... Those tits on her are fantastic!"

"Nah, just my girlfriend. She's going to school for some business thing."

"You should put together a portfolio and send it in to some modeling agencies. Seriously, she could make you guys a lot of money."

"She wouldn't want to. She's actually pretty shy until she's alone with me," Mark bragged. "She just can't keep her hands off me."

"Dude, seriously. She could make a ton of cash for you, being a model. Have someone take pictures at your place if she won't go to a studio."

"She wouldn't want to," Mark hesitated.

Scott smiled. "Just tell her you want some professional photos for your office or something."

"Huh, that's not a bad idea. I actually would like a couple of photos of us together."

"Mark, she's so hot, she could make millions. Think about how the guys would freak out if you were dating a super model!" Scott prodded.

Mark paused, "Yeah, a super model..." A devious smile slowly spread across his face as he picked up his laptop and swaggered out.

As Mark disappeared around the wall, Scott was plugging the flash drive into his desktop. He unzipped and adjusted the huge bulge in the front of his pants so that it poked out the fly. He had to lower his chair a bit to avoid smearing pre-cum on the edge of his desk. He pressed play and slowly started stroking. He played the movie several more times that day, and then took it home and watched it more than night.

---

Mark had probably the best day ever at work. All the guys were chatting with him, even stopping by his office to joke around with him. It was like his popularity had jumped way up on the social ladder. He had only shown the video to a couple of the guys, but each of them made copies so it must have spread everywhere. He was thrilled.

He figured he could probably get her to wear another outfit tonight, but it would have to be pretty hot to top the night before. Whatever he could get on film would be worth it to impress the guys at work.

But, what really got him thinking was what Scott had said. If she were a model, he'd have way more than just respect. They'd all envy him. What goes into a modeling portfolio... A swimsuit, a dress, casual clothes, maybe a little lingerie? He could easily convince her that he wanted a few pictures for his office and their home.

---

Heather was just finishing up dinner when he got home, wearing a pair of sweats and a comfortable sweater. She gave him a big kiss when he came into the kitchen and said dinner would be on the table in five minutes.

He thanked her and said he'd be right out after he changed clothes.

Heather was really horny. She had been ever since her last class. It had just ended, and people were filing out. One of the football players was right in front of her when he dropped his notebook and bent down to grab it off the floor. She bumped into him from behind, and right then felt hands on her hips. The football player pushed his butt into her tummy and she was pressed back against a firm bulge that pressed into her ass. The hands on her waist held her there for a second and she could feel the bulge move against her. When the football player finally moved through the door and she was released, she quickly glanced back and saw the large bulge in another football player's jeans. She glanced up into his blue eyes and he smiled down at her.

"Sorry about that," he said. "Sometimes it has a mind of its own."

He left her standing there, staring at him as he passed her.

"...it has a mind..." repeated in her head. Was that his penis? There was just no way.

Once she got home, she couldn't stop thinking about the bulge she had seen. She knew he was stuffing something in there, but he was so big and strong everywhere else… Her thoughts kept teasing her, and she kept remembering how warm the hands on her waist felt. She had a nagging suspicion the whole thing had been staged by the unknown football players, and she felt a little thrill fighting the anxiety at the thought of their attention centered on her.

She finished preparing dinner and then called him to the table. She was just sitting when he came in and leaned down to kiss her before taking his seat. Reaching across the table, she held his hand.

"Thank you for last night, Mark. That was a lot of fun."

He smiled sincerely. "You looked so cute in that outfit, I couldn't help myself."

"And you were so good in the bedroom, giving me three orgasms like that," she smiled back at him. "It was really nice."

They sat and ate a few bites, just enjoying the food and the company.

"So," Mark said after a swallow of wine. "I was thinking... I'd like to have a couple of pictures of you on my desk at work. I kind of miss you while I'm there, and it would be nice to be able to look at you while I'm working."

"Aw," Heather beamed. "That's so sweet!"

"Yeah, and maybe a few photos of us for home, you know? We could start an album or something."

"That would be fun!"

"I was thinking, we could take a couple of outfits for you to model at a photography studio and have them done professionally."

Heather's eyes lost their spark of happiness. "Um, Mark? What kind of outfits?"

"Oh, you know," he said quickly. "A nice dress, casual clothes, maybe a swimsuit?"

"I haven't worn a swimsuit in... Well, forever. I don't think I'd be comfortable doing that."

"Maybe we could have a photographer come here then. Nothing risqué, of course. Just some nice pictures of both of us to put in the album, and a couple for my desk?"

"Hmm, I guess that would be nice. I'd like to have some pictures of us too."

He smiled at her. "Maybe even a couple of sexier photos too. I know you'd never wear anything like you wore last night, Babe. That was so hot! I couldn't believe how sexy you..."

"What do you want me to wear tonight?" she interrupted quickly.

He grinned as she blushed, looking down at her food.

"How about you decide again," he said. "You did such an amazing job last night it will be hard to top."

"Okay, I'll see what I can do. You clean the dishes."

She was up and out of the kitchen before he could set his fork down. They both had food left on their plates as he stood to quickly clean up.

She raced into the bedroom and started looking through the clothes hanging in the closet. She needed to find something hot enough to really tease Mark into spending more time between her legs.

A lot of it she skipped over because they were just too sleazy for her to be comfortable. Latex was definitely NOT something she would consider, nor was the peek-a-boob mini-dresses. Other costumes were just too corny for her to wear, like the Britney Spears outfit or the nurse's uniform. They were okay if she was in a playful mood, but right now she wanted to be sexy.

When her eyes found the little go-go outfit she knew it was the one. Mark had terrible taste in clothes, but this one costume might actually work for her. She pulled it off the hanger and laid it out on the bed.

The top was more of a large necklace than anything else; a loop of silver wire that fastened behind the neck and curved down low across the breasts. Hundreds of white tassels of soft satin hung down from it like a curtain of long fringe to conceal the breasts. The little strings were only a few inches long at the outside of the breasts but grew longer toward the center where they tapered down to a point only inches above the naval. There were no ties around the back to hold it in place and Heather supposed it was really meant to be worn as an accessory.

The bottom was a skirt of the same fringe worn as a belt with the shorter tassels near the clasps to expose nearly all of one hip. The other hip had longer strings to reach down to the lower thigh. The overall look was like wrap of white strings cut diagonally from the hip of one leg down to just above the knee on the other.

She smiled, knowing that it would drive Mark just crazy. She knew exactly what she needed to wear underneath it. Another purchase she had never tried on, he had brought home the smallest swimsuit she had ever seen; a miniscule white bikini that he called a Ferret or something like that. It was super sheer and would barely cover her privates.

She raced to the dresser and rummaged through the soft fabrics, most with tags still on them, until she found the little suit. It seemed even smaller than she remembered. She held it up by the little strings that were nearly as thin as fishing line, and watched the little strips of white cloth twirl.

Feeling the moisture soak into the seam of her sweatpants, she dropped the little swimsuit onto the bed and stripped naked. Her little g-string was actually soaked in her juices and they left a streak of liquid down her inner thigh as she pulled them down. She used the soft sweatpants to wipe herself off, even pressing it between her legs to help blot the hot stickiness dry.

By the time she figured out which hole her leg was supposed to go through, she felt she needed to wipe herself again. She pulled the thin elastic cords up over her hips and felt the little white strip of fabric sink deep into her sex.

The top was even harder to figure out. The stretchy cords went over her shoulders and crossed on her back, connecting the top of each vertical strip of cloth to the bottom of the other. It was tight enough to be snug, but her long nipples tented the fabric so that it didn't quite touch her skin on the sides. The little strips looked like bands of white electrical tape over her nipples.

She spent a couple of minutes trying to stretch the little strips out, both on her breasts and between her legs. The first wasn't possible, because her nipples were just too aroused to let the fabric lay any flatter. The problem at her crotch was that any pull on one side of the little strip made the other side slip into her. Finally, she used both hands and was able to pack her swollen labia inside at the same time she pressed the edges down. She had to pull the cords a little higher on her hips, but that seemed to keep her inside the little pouch. The swell of her clitoral hood was just visible above the top edge of the cloth.

Heather lifted the go-go necklace off the bed. Its clasp was a simple rounded bend at the ends that looped together. She lifted it and fastened it around her neck. The whole front swung out when she leaned forward to grab the skirt, and the ends softly whipped against her abdomen when she stood back up. The she wrapped the skirt around her hip and pulled the ends together over the other. The same simple rounded bend hooks fastened it there.

She stepped in front of the mirror to take a look at herself. Wow! She looked super slutty! She turned to the side, watching the tassels try to keep up and exposing a flash of skin between the strands before they stopped swinging. She rose up onto her toes and dropped to her heals to watch her breasts bounce. It didn't seem to reveal much, so she shimmied her shoulders forward and back. The tassels whipped back and forth erratically as her breasts swung from side to side. They were entirely exposed with the little strings zipping back and forth. The long fringe settled, parted to the center and around each curve of her boobs. One of her nipples had popped free from the little string bikini and she fought the fabric to cover it again.

Dang! She smiled at herself, pursing her lips in a little pout and winked. Super slutty! She knew it would get Mark's heart racing. She threw on a little pair of open-toed white sandals with three-inch heals and raced into the bathroom with the tassels whipping against her tummy and thighs.

She thought just a touch of makeup might add to the image she was going to present. She quickly put on eyeliner, and then added mascara to really emphasize her long lashes. Eye shadow and a darker blush were quickly added. Then, to top off the look, she added some cherry red lipstick and made kissing motions to herself in the mirror. She looked like a model!

Grinning, she bounced out of the bathroom and tried to compose herself as she walked out of the bedroom to meet him.

Mark had moved the coffee table against the wall and was sitting in the center of the couch. The television was off but he had put on some soft jazz over the stereo.

His eyes widened in shock when Heather entered and stepped into the center of the room.

"Hi, Baby," Heather purred, thrusting one hip out to the side and lifting one hand to rest on it. She held the pose while his eyes devoured her.

"Holy shit, Babe!" He leaned forward with a lecherous smile on his face. The little go-go outfit was so hot!

She slowly pivoted, allowing him to see her from every angle. When she ended her turn, he was smiling.

"Dance for me," he told her.

She slowly swayed her hips, twisting her torso. It wasn't enough to really get the tassels in motion, but it showed off the lean muscles of her abdomen and lower back.

"Turn around," he said after almost a minute of watching her sway.

She half-stepped and slowly rotated to face away from him, pushing her bottom out as she continued to sway.

Her bare back had only two thin strings holding her bikini top on, and he could see the strings of her bottoms where they were pulled high on her hips. He rose to stand directly behind her as she continued to sway.

"Take this off," he whispered hotly into her ear as he tugged the bikini strings down her back.

"Mmm hmm," she sighed, tilting her head against his as she felt his fingers pull the swimsuit top down to her swinging hips.

She continued to sway as he pulled the strings out and over her skirt. He ran his fingers up her naked back as the top slid down her legs to the floor.

"Keep dancing," he told her as he kissed her neck once and stepped back to sit on the couch.

She kept her hips swinging back and forth to the music and glanced down at her chest. Her nipples were poking out between the long white strings, parting them to expose the lower half of her breasts. She started to turn to let him see, but he stopped her and told her to keep dancing.

The music was nice, and she was pretty hot and bothered. She started exaggerating the motion of her hips, letting them twist with each swing so that the little strings flared out and fell back against her thighs.

He let her dance another minute, smiling at the camera occasionally, but finding it difficult to keep his eyes off of her. She was really being sexy for him tonight! Then, he stood again and moved behind her.

"You are so hot," he whispered. She started to turn, but he held her hips and leaned in to kiss her cheek. "Don't stop, Babe. Keep dancing."

He slipped a finger of each hand under the little skirt and twisted it so that the short fringe at her hip slid around in front. She continued to move, and he enjoyed holding his hands on her waist a moment before he sat back down.

She felt so naughty! The fringe was now slapping the back of her thighs with each bump, and her boobs were swinging back and forth enough that the strings had parted completely around them. She could feel the moisture soaking the little strip of fabric between her legs and knew it had sunk deeply into her.

When she turned again Mark didn't stop her, and she saw that he was sitting with his legs spread wide and his hand was rubbing over the bump in his pants. Smiling at him, she dropped down to her knees and slowly crawled toward him, wiggling her bottom and feeling the tassels swish across her thighs.

"What'cha got there," she purred. "Have something for me to play with?" She watched him rubbing the bump between his legs. When she made it to his knees, he closed them.

"Stand up again babe."

Pouting, she pushed off with her hands on his knees to stand in front of him.

"Turn around," he ordered her.

She turned, looking back over her shoulder to meet his eyes.

"Now, sit." He patted his lap.

She scooted back and sat on his lap, with her legs on the outside of his knees. He held her around the waist, and leaned back. As he settled against the couch, he spread his legs again and hers were spread widely over them.

"Kiss me," he told her.

She reached her hand up over her shoulder and held his head as she turned her mouth to his. Their lips met and parted sensually as they kissed. She felt his tongue press into her mouth and she sucked on it lightly with her lips as she gently pulled his hair with her fingers.

The skin on her tummy got goose bumps as he lightly trailed his fingers up. She felt him lightly stroke the underside of her breast and its nipple throbbed with anticipation. The tassels tickled against her ribs, and she pulled his mouth harder against hers.

His other hand moved down from her waist and toyed with the little clasp holding the skirt together. She felt it pop as it opened.

"Mmmm," she moaned into his mouth. She pressed her tongue into his and toyed with it while she held his hair.

The hand at her breast moved down to pull her other wrist from beside her up. He pressed her fingers against her swollen nipple and slowly loosened his grip. When she started to move her hand away, he pushed it back in place and held it until she started to squeeze the hard nubbin between her fingers.

The hand between her legs brushed down further. Her legs automatically tried to close with the intimate sensation but he pushed them even further apart with his knees. His fingers lowered and traced them down over the fleshy bulge of bare skin on each side of her little swimsuit bottoms. She couldn't help it; her hips bucked up against his hand, trying to get them to touch with more pressure.

"Ungh," she grunted pulling her mouth away from his.

"Relax, Babe. Just show yourself."

She felt the fingers caressing her move down to the little string that covered her anus and then slip back up along the sides of her outer lips and her hips bucked up again.

"Please," she groaned, trying to lift her hand from her nipple and feeling him hold it tighter against her breast.

"No, Heather. Just enjoy it," he commanded.

He pulled the little strip of fabric up by the side strings and she felt it slip into her. He pulled a little harder and the cloth slid upward and pressed firmly on her engorged clitoris.

"Oh, God!" she gasped, pinching her nipple hard and burying her face into his neck.

Another firm tug brought the little string from her bottom up between her inner labia and she felt the moisture drip down toward her anus around it. Only the little ball of her clitoris remained covered by the bikini bottoms, and it was being pressed upward and against her pelvic bone with agonizing pressure. She knew she was about to come.

He pulled again and the little string between her legs snapped. The sudden release in tension made her clitoris push out. It only took his hand moving back over the fold of skin above it to make her grunt.

"Oh, no!" she cried, bucking her hips up so that his probing fingers stroked across her clitoris. A thick jet of warm liquid shot out of her in an arc, and she bounced her bottom up and down to rub herself on his fingers rapidly.

"Uuuungh!" she grunted, flexing her thighs and holding herself still as another gush of juices sprayed from inside her. She felt his fingers pushing between her lips and she couldn't help but thrust herself against them again as another wave of liquid was squeezed from her.

"That's it, Babe," he coached softly in her ear. "Let it all out for everyone to see. You are so good, everyone will just love you."

She finally settled down as his finger started to slip into her, and she lowered her hips so that she was sitting on him again.

"Oh God, Mark," she moaned. "I think I peed all over." She was really embarrassed, but the orgasm seemed to have drained every ounce of energy from her body.

"No, Babe. You just came really hard," he promised. "You go jump in the shower and I'll clean up the floor."

He helped her stand, and she held on to him while her legs steadied.

"I'm so sorry, Mark," she said. "I didn't mean to, it just happened."

"I know, it's okay. You go take a shower and get all clean. I'll come in and give you a little love."

She hugged him and felt wetness on her bare tummy. Stepping back, she glanced down and saw where there was a damp stain by his zipper.

"Did you..." she started to ask. "Oh no, Mark," she whined, looking up at him and trying to shield him from her disappointment.

He glanced over her shoulder briefly and then leaned in to whisper. "I'll still spend some time pleasing you," he promised. "As long as you get yourself clean."

Trying to hide her frustration, she put on a smile and kissed him quickly. She stepped around the mess she had made on the floor and bounced off to shower.

Mark turned to the camera and smiled.

"Pretty hot, eh? Yeah, totally into me," he bragged. He winked at the camera and then stepped forward to turn it off and stop the recording.

---

The next morning, Mark woke shortly after Heather left for school. It was still pretty early, but he was actually anxious to get to work with the new footage. He was ready in record time and out the door with his laptop before he usually even got out of bed.

The office was surprisingly busy early in the morning. Most everyone was already at work as he passed through the building, and several of the guys nodded at him with smiles. Apparently, he was quite popular now.

He hadn't been seated at his desk for more than thirty seconds when Scott stepped in and leaned against the doorframe.

"Hey, Bud! So, how'd it go last night?"

"Same as every night," Mark said with an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders. "She was all over me, dressed up in this little dancer's outfit."

"Nice," Scott smiled with sincerity. "Able to get anything recorded?"

"Yeah, a bit," Mark answered. "She really played for the camera too. Acted all innocent, but she loves showing off for me."

"So, she knew you were recording this time?"

Mark realized his error, but pushed forward. "She pretty much insisted that I get the video of her," he lied.

"Wow! That's so cool, Mark. With her looks, she should feel right at home in front of the camera. Are you going to take her to a studio get a portfolio started?"

"We talked about it, but I think I may hire a photographer to come to our house to take the pictures instead. She said she'd be more willing to get a little nasty that way, if you know what I mean," he boasted.

Scott was nodding. He could see right through Mark and was having a hard time not calling him out. But he wanted a chance to see this girl in action again.

"So," Mark continued. "You want a copy?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure," he said, pretending to pat his pockets for his thumb-drive. He even acted surprised when he found it in the breast pocket of his shirt.

Mark opened his laptop and moved through the folders to find the latest file from the spy-cam. He spun it around so that Scott could plug in and copy it.

"You want me to share this with some of the guys too?" Scott asked with a smile.

"If you want to," Mark said, feigning indifference. He was thrilled that the guys would all be jealous and giving him kudos, and it was much easier if Scott distributed it because he wouldn't look like he was bragging.

Once the file copy was done, Scott unplugged the drive and slipped it back into his shirt pocket.

"Cool, Mark," Scott said as he turned back to the doorway. He pretended sudden inspiration and stopped to turn back around as though he had just thought of something. "Say," he said after only a slight hesitation. "I took a couple of photography classes in college. I could help you guys out as your photographer."

"Nah, she'd never go for it. She's pretty shy around most people, but if she knew you worked with me she wouldn't want to show off," he answered honestly.

"Really? I was thinking it might be easier to get shots of both of you together... If I were her boyfriend, I'd certainly want shots of both of us together so that people would know she was all mine." He grinned. "Especially if she gets really famous with a modeling career. Can you just imagine, Mark? What would everyone say if your girlfriend was a super model! Man, they'd be so jealous." He actually laughed after he left the office. The stupid fuck had actually gotten this dreamy glazed look on his face with the talk about people being jealous. Like that was his main goal in life or something.

When Scott finally got back to his own office, he shut the door. Planting that little seed in Mark's head might work, but he might have to work on it to make it grow.

Once the video started, he sat there astonished. He actually grunted when the foxy brunette squirted, and he looked up to make sure his door was still shut. It was a long, private morning for him. Eight ejaculations wasn't any record for him, but it was certainly a record for him at work.

At lunchtime, he decided to touch base with Mark, just to water and fertilize the seed a bit. He had just left his office, headed to Mark's, when he nearly collided with the guy.

"Hey, Scott," Mark greeted him.

"What's up, Bud?"

"So, I was thinking about it, and... I think I'd like to have shots with both of us too. But, you'd have to pretend to be a professional photographer... I know she wouldn't relax if she knew we worked together."

"I could do that," Scott replied with confidence. "It's still a pretty big hobby of mine, and I have most all of the equipment needed. You sure your girlfriend... What's her name again?"

"Heather."

"Yeah, that's right. Are you sure Heather wouldn't be more willing to pose if one of your friends from work was taking the pictures?"

Mark smiled at the word 'friends' and responded, "She'd be too reserved. A stranger would be someone she'd never have to face again."

"Okay, I can do that. I'll be a professional photographer working freelance or something. When do you want to set it up?"

"She has classes most days, so let's plan on this weekend maybe? I'll have to check with her, so I'll let you know."

"Great, Bud! I'm telling you, her good looks are going to make you guys rich!"

---

Heather had felt like she was in heat all afternoon. The football players from the day before had 'accidentally' focused on her again. This time, they sat on each side of her and talked around her during lulls. It was awfully distracting, since they kept talking about mundane things like working out and partying. But, the worst was just as class got over.

She stood to gather her notebook and book once the professor dismissed, and both of the guys stood as well. They were still talking over her as she turned to move around the blonde one. The dark haired one bumped into her from behind and she fell forward into the blonde. He held her by the hips and she felt the dark haired guy's hands holding her waist. The two big men were still talking as they leaned against her and she had no doubt they both had something stuffed into their pants. The bulge against her front was pressed into her tummy, and the one behind was right between her butt cheeks. She could feel her nipples bend against the hard muscle of the blonde guy she was facing and she was sure he could feel them as well.

It seemed like forever before the two let her go, but she felt the one in front pull her against him harder for a second before he lifted his hands from her hips.

They acted like nothing happened, still chatting to each other about the weekend and how much fun they would have after the game. She knew she was bright red with embarrassment, and quickly fled to her car.

But once at home, the memory of that moment between then was driving her crazy! They were so big and handsome. And the firm bulges they rubbed against her seemed so unnatural that they just had to be socks or something stuffed down their pants. She was ashamed she felt horny from the experience, but a little upset that they treated her like she wasn't even there. Yet, the way they held her in place... that was thrilling! She was totally there between them and they just had to know what they were doing, right? The more she thought about it, the more excited she grew.

 

[Dropped]

Story 4:

Story 4:

The clinking of beer mugs on tables and laughter wasn't drowned out by loud music in the afternoons, and Charlie Riggins was always in a better mood because of it. Usually leaving the bar by 9 at night when the younger crowd overwhelmed the place, it was the 1 to 4 afternoon block that kept him from retiring. That four hours was spent going over the books behind the bar, prepping for the night shift, taking inventory and ordering, and mostly just joking with the regulars that were more a part of his family than his relatives.

Tammy Wynette had just started into the first chorus of "Stand by Your Man" on the jukebox when someone dropped a bottle over in one of the booths. He glanced over at the group as they scrambled to keep the flood on the table with cocktail napkins and one of them jumped up to get a towel. He tossed a dry one over the bar at him as he approached and got an embarressed nod in return before the man turned back to the table.

"Hey, Barkeep," an old man called from his normal seat at the end of the bar.

Charlie smiled as he finished slicing the lime under the bar before turning to the man.

"Need another, Ross?" he asked even though the old man hadn't finished half the whiskey in his rocks glass.

"No, I just wanted to tell you my wife was askin' me if I'd ever remarry if she passed on. Told her I reckon I might. Asked me if I'd let the woman sleep in her bed. Told her reckon so. Asked me if I'd let her use the good china her Grammy left her. Told her yup. Then, she asked if I'd let the woman use her golf clubs. Damned if I didn't tell her no, because the new woman is left-handed."

Charlie chuckled, "That's a good one, Ross."

It was the same joke the old man told most everyday, sometimes twice in the same hour.

Several people voiced greetings to a short, round-faced man as he made his toward the bar from the front door. He was cheerful, waving to each in turn and stopping to say a few brief words occassionally before continuing on.

"Afternoon, Ross," he smiled and nodded as he sad several seats away, directly in front of Charlie.

"Padre," the old man acknowledged looking down at his glass.

"See you this Sunday with your son's family?" the round man pushed easily, with a quick wink over the bar to Charlie.

"Might be," the old man grumbled back.

"What can I get ya, Mack?" Charlie smiled.

"A coffee would be good, thank you."

Charlie raised an eyebrow, but pulled a mug from a lower rack and filled it from the newer pot.

"Is there something I can do for you, Mack? I mean, this isn't your usual hang-out. What would Mrs. Eddins say if she or her friends saw you walzing in here?"

"Why, she'd say, 'Thank you, Father Mackenzie! Spread the faith within that devil's cave and guide their souls back to the light!'"

Several snickers sounded, and Ross started laughing hard enough that it turned into a slight coughing fit. Mack's impression of the old teetotaling diva was nearly exactly what they would expect her to say, and was delivered with the same nasal twang which grated on everyone's nerves.

Charlie was grinning. "She saw you come in..."

Mack nodded. "Said those exact words," he admitted. "So, consider yourself guided and all that."

The bar had suddenly grown quiet, with only Patsy Cline's pleading voice on the jukebox. Charlie looked up to see a man in blue jeans and black leather jacket walking toward the bar. The stride was confident, and his eyes scanned the room as if cataloging everything without really focusing.

"I just really wanted to talk to you about..." Mack stopped when he saw the change in the bartender. He turned to glance over his shoulder.

Charlie resisted the urge to reach down and unholster the pistol they kept on the underside of the bar. The man stepped up, setting a black helmet down on the bar next to the priest. His eyes were cold and his face was stern. A thin line of scar ran horizontally on the upper cheek beneath his left eye and gleamed white compared to the tan skin of his face. The man's lower jaw buldged along its sharp curve as it clenched.

The stranger's cold blue eyes darted to the priest and then back to Charlie without blinking.

"Riggins," he said, his voice low and even. "Mackenzie," he added, as he slid onto the barstool smoothly.

Charlie reached down slowly and grabbed the handle of the small paring knife on the cutting board. Nobody was speaking, but he didn't have to glance around the bar to know the man seated beside the priest was the reason. Patsy Cline droned on alone.

"I'm sorry," Charlie said after a moment. "Do I know you?"

The man didn't blink and his gaze didn't waver, didn't cease the judgement being laid upon him. Charlie's grip on the knife tightened.

"Been a while," he said with the same tone.

And then the cold blue eyes sparked with mirth as a smile spread over the rugged face, melting away the danger and dimpling his cheeks.

"Holy Mother of God," Mackenzie breathed, crossing himself and then lunging to grab the man in a bear hug.

"Jesus..." Charlie gasped. "Darren Sparks?" Several other voices gasped in the bar, followed quickly with whispers questioning the name.

The man nodded to Charlie over Mackenzie's hugging arm as he patted the priest on the back.

"It's so good to see you guys," he said casually.

"God Fucking Damn, Darren!" Charlie hissed as he leaned over the bar to grab the man by the shoulders as the priest released him. "Sorry, Father," he mumbled without looking away from the smiling blue eyes. "Where the hell have you been?"

"I ended up hitching all the way to the Oregon coast. Ended up working in Portland for a while."

Charlie released him, tilting his head to the side. "It's been what, six years? What the hell were you doing on the coast?"

"Started on the docks, moving cargo. Then, moved on to other things."

"'Other things,' he says," Charlie smirked, glancing at the priest. "Guy walks in here like a stone-cold killer and has me about pissing myself behind the bar..." he grumbled, stepping away to grab a coffee cup to fill for the man.

"Are you back to stay?" the priest asked. "I know Ticko's could use another heavy mechanic. Patrick has had to send a lot of the extra work over to Walder's, and he's just not equipped to handle it."

"I don't know, Father," Darren replied, nodding to Charlie when the black coffee was set before him. "I might. I wasn't sure I was even going to stop. Thought I'd see what Chicago has to offer, couple of contacts there."

Charlie laughed. "This is a long way from being on the path to Chicago. Houston maybe, but Chicago?"

Darren looked down at the cup and then took a little sip. It was strong. "I know. I didn't start off this direction..."

"Have you seen Anabelle?" the priest asked.

A head shake and another sip of coffee was the only response.

"Darren, I don't pretend to understand what you had to deal with back then. But, leaving your sister like that about destroyed her. And the twins. When your mom passed and her dad gave up, she was the one that raised you. You owed her the ..."

"Mack," Charlie scolded with a glare and shake of his head.

"No," Darren interrupted. "He's right. Belle deserved better."

The priest looked like he was going to add something, but then just nodded and took a swallow of coffee.

"She's doing pretty well now," Charlie said. "Been fixing the place up a lot since you left. Doesn't seem to be working as much in town either. Girls even have new cars..." He took a gulp of his coffee. "You know anything about that, Darren?"

The man didn't look up.

"Thought so," Charlie nodded, throwing a glance to the priest. "So, where are you staying?"

"Just got here, first stop. Was thinking of maybe staying at the Flying-T."

The priest set his coffee cup down hard. "You go see your sister first, Darren." He held up his hand when Charlie looked ready to jump in. "You do what's right. I never got involved with things back then, and I don't imagine she did much either. May have been wrong not to. Was wrong. But you nearly broke her when you left and you owe her for six years of grief."

Darren nodded, sliding off the barstool to stand. He tossed a buck on the counter before turning.

Charlie spoke as he moved away. "Darren, you need a place to stay, me and Stacey would be more than happy to have you. Long as you need."

Darren nodded again as he made his way to the door and into the early afternoon.

"He's changed," the priest said.

"Dangerous," Ross said from the end of the bar. "Like my cousin Lane when he got back from Viet Nam."

Charlie glanced over at the old man and saw his rocks glass was empty. "Need another, Ross?"

"Sure. Say, I tell you about my wife askin' me if I'd remarry if she passed on? Told her I reckon I might..."

Charlie winked at the priest as he grabbed a new glass and filled it with ice.

---

The old road had been patched several times since Darren had driven it. A couple of places looked to have several layers of asphalt showing. Not much had changed in the scenery, but being on the motorcycle instead of in an old pickup truck made everything seem more alive.

When the rumble of the Harley Roadster's engine brought him to the long driveway to his sister's place, he forced himself to turn rather than continue past.

The driveway was paved now, rather than the washboard gravel from when he had driven it daily. It even had landscaping along it, though it looked like a work in progress with very little in the way of plants. The house was painted a light blue, with new shutters in white and a new railed porch that hadn't been there when he left. It looked like a lot of work had been done to fix it up. A detached three car garage had been built where the old shed had been, just a little down the hill from the house on the left. A couple of oil stains on the cement in front showed it had been there for a couple of years.

He parked by the porch, turning the engine off and just sitting on his bike and staring at the house. The place still felt like home even though it looked so different.

Gathering his courage, he swung his leg off and removed his helmet, setting it on the seat before running his fingers through his hair.

The new porch was nice, with eight sturdy fluted columns holding the roof. There were a few outdoor chairs and a loveseat chain swing on one side. A vase filled with fresh wild flowers was on a little round table between two chairs.

He hesitated briefly before stepping onto the "Welcome Home" mat in front of the door, but then rang the doorbell.

"Hi," the woman greeted as she opened the door wide. "What can I do for you today?" Her eyes scanned him and she blushed as she straightened her shirt.

There were a few lines at the corner of her smiling eyes that weren't there before. And, her blonde hair had grown longer, styled nicely now in curls. She was more beautiful than he remembered, healthier.

"Hi, Belle," he said simply.

Her eyes scrunched a bit in question and then suddenly grew wide. The color drained from her cheeks.

He nodded, "I've missed ..." He resisted the urge to block the quick flash of her opened hand as it darted out and caught him hard on the cheek with a resounding slap. He noted absently that her eyes hadn't betrayed the move as he allowed the strike to turn his head to the side.

"I guess I deserved ..." he started to say as he slowly turned his head back to her.

She rushed forward and jumped against him, bringing her arms around his neck fiercly as he caught and held her. Her body began quaking with heavy sobs and her face nuzzled into his neck. Her legs lifted and wrapped around his waist, locking behind him as she hugged him closely.

"Six. Years. Darren," she bawled. "Six fucking years without you." She pulled back so she could look in his eyes. "God I missed you," she breathed, surprising him when she pressed her lips tightly against his and held them there while she moved one hand to the back of his head and fisted his short hair. The kiss was more than friendly.

She must have sensed his awkwardness, because she quickly released his hair and lifted her mouth from his, tucking her face back into his neck.

"Oh, Darren. I missed you so much," she breathed, tickling the back of his neck.

"You too, Belle. And I'm sorry for leaving like that. I just..."

She unwrapped her legs, letting him lower her to the doorstep as she slid her hands down from his neck and inside his unzipped leather jacket. Her eyebrows rose as her fingers discovered the ridges of muscle on his chest under his t-shirt, and she let them trail down his abdomen before she grabbed his wrists to pull him into the house.

"Beer?" she asked, pulling him into the kitchen. The floor had been redone, tile instead of the scarred linolium he remembered. New countertops too, though the cupboards were the same rustic dark he had helped her stain years before.

"Any coffee?" he asked. "Been a long ride."

"Uh, sure. I'll make us some." She pulled a coffee tin from the cabinet above the coffee maker and loaded up a filter. After hitting the button to start brewing, she turned and looked at him.

He barely looked like the same guy that she had known for 16 years. His face had aged, in a good way. It was leaner, and more rugged, with a little white scar on one cheek. His eyes seemed darker too, still the vivid blue but with a mystery to them. His hair was cut short, not like the long brown hippy hair he had six years before. It made him seem more masculine. Not that he had any need to seem that way, considering the bulging lean muscles she had felt on his chest and abdomen, or the thickness of his muscled thighs where his jeans were stretched tight. The black leather jacket seemed so unlike him, yet it suited him perfectly, now.

"I'm sorry, Anabelle," he started, looking at her with raw pain in his eyes.

"I know. I am too, Darren. I understand the reason, but I don't accept you staying away and not contacting me. That hurt the worst. The leaving part hurt, but the not knowing if you were okay just about killed me." She glared at him. "You know what it did to the girls? I mean, you don't leave two fourteen year old girls like that. They looked up to you Darren. You were more like their father than their uncle. And you walked out on them just like Greg did. Fucking left with to explain to them! My worst fucking nightmare trying to explain again how the most important man in their life just fucking disappeared!"

"I'm not Greg," he said.

"NO! You're fucking NOT Greg! You were part of the family, part of our lives. Maybe not by blood, but when your mom died and Dad blew his brains out, I took you in. Raising four year old twins, already struggling after Greg ran out on us, and I fucking took you in. Because we are family, Darren." She shook her head. "Abandoned us for six fucking years..."

"It was... I'm sorry, Belle."

"Your damned right you're fucking sorry," she huffed, turning to open the refrigerator. She rustled around in it, bent at the waist, and pulled out a plate wrapped with foil.

"You look good," he said, admiring her figure.

"Damned right I look good," she huffed with her back to him. She pulled a loaf of bread out of the bread-box and then opened the refrigerator again. She kept her legs straight, bending further than was necessary to grab mustard and mayonaise from the second shelf in the door. "Your fucking damned right I look good," she repeated as she turned to face him.

Her smile made him laugh. "No, I'm serious," he said.

"Damned right you're serious," she grumped. "I fucking know I look good. Lord knows I have to work enough at it, with two twenty year olds stealing all my attention." She let her eyes roam over Darren's body. "You look good too, and that's not just your step-sister talking."

She took everything and set it on the kitchen island in front of him.

"No horseradish. Maybe if you'd have called first."

He winced at the comment, but nodded. Glancing at his hands, he moved toward the sink.

"Wash up after you grab your stuff and put it in your room," she scolded. "Or are you just taking off again?"

He sighed, feeling her anger. He took off his jacket and hung it over the back of a chair, feeling her eyes on him as he walked out to get his gear.

There wasn't much to grab. He slung one saddle bag over his shoulder and held the other in his hand. In his other, he grabbed the helmet and tucked it under his arm so he could open the door.

He was amazed when he entered his room and found it just like he had left it. The only difference was the bedspread had been changed. The same posters, trophies, and miscellaneous junk that he'd gathered over the ten years living with them, all still organized exactly how he remembered.

He dropped the saddle bags on the floor by his old wooden desk and then headed across the hall to the bathroom. It was a mess, with curling irons, makeup, and junk all over the counter. Panties and t-shirts were shoved against the wall along with towels and a robe.

He quickly washed his hands and face, briefly admiring the tiny yellow thong he found under the towel on the counter before drying himself. Smiling, he lifted the thong with his fingers and carried it into the kitchen.

"Wow, Belle! You sure are getting daring in your upper thirties," he teased, holding the thong up.

She laughed, "Only if I wore them backwards. I'm commando these days."

His smile dropped quickly, and the flood of red that spread across his neck and checks made her laugh out loud.

"I told you, I have to compete with two twenty year olds now."

Without intending to, his eyes dropped to the crotch of her jeans.

"See?" she said, opening her hands to the sides of her hips. "No pantylines!"

"Oh, God," he said, quickly looking away as she laughed even harder.

He dropped the thong on the counter and sat on a stool, scooting closer to the bar as she set a plate with a turkey sandwich and potato chips in front of him.

"Thanks, Sis," he said as she set a cup of coffee down beside the plate.

She smiled, taking her cup of coffee around the island to sit beside him.

"So, where did you go?" she asked after taking a sip.

He finished the bite in his mouth, wiping a bit of mayonaise from the corner of his lips with his finger.

"This is good," he replied. "I went to the west coast. Portland, Oregon. Ended up working on the docks for a while shuffling cargo on and off ships. Was a tough life for a while, without much pay." He took another bite.

"Then where?" She sipped her coffee.

"Did a couple of other things, moved around a bit. Was going to go to Chicago next, but sort of found myself back here."

"Darren, what else did you do, besides dock work?"

"You know, a little of this and that. Worked for a bit as a mechanic in a drydock. Not like working on diesals, but it was okay."

"Darren. I'm going to ask you one more time..."

"Look, I survived," he said quickly. "I did what I had to, and that's done so I moved on."

She took a long sip of coffee while he took another bite of the sandwich.

"What you had to..." she said after a moment. "Was all of it legal?"

"Yes," he answered too quickly, earning him a long and heavy stare. "Technically, yes. Everything I did was legal."

"Listen, Darren. If you make me keep asking you for every little scrap of information, I'll go call..." She realized just in time what she was about to say and held her tongue. She could see the cloud of anger well up in him, and knew that he had realized it too.

"Look," he said cooly. "I did a lot of things I'm not proud of. A lot of things I'm not allowed to talk about. All of it was legal. But a lot of it wasn't very moral." He took a swallow of coffee and felt it burn his tongue. "I have to live with that."

"Was pretty lucrative though, huh? I mean, sending us $10,000 a month isn't exactly dock work."

"I didn't..."

"Don't you fucking lie to me, Darren. I know the money was coming from you, even if you didn't contact us." She took a deep breath. "I mean, who starts automatically depositing that much money each month directly into someone's account? At first I thought it was a fluke or something at the bank, but then it just kept coming, month after month. I knew it was from you."

"I didn't want you to know," he admitted. "You weren't supposed to know."

"Well how the hell would I not?! Who else could it have..."

The burst of a woman's laughter from the front hall interrupted them. There was some whispering before the front door slammed shut

"Hey, Mom? Whose motorcycle is out front?" one of the voices sang.

"Just play along," Belle whispered to him.

Darren nodded, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Well, hello there, Hotness!" one of the women said playfully as they came around the corner into the kitchen. They were dressed very similar to their mother, in jeans and t-shirts, though their blonde hair was longer and straight.

Belle grabbed his hand as she stood, and turned him as he rose to face the two women.

"This is my boyfriend," Belle said quickly, stepping in front of him and wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss.

If the first kiss on the doorstep wasn't exactly chaste, this one was down right raunchy, as she opened her mouth and wedged her tongue between his lips and gently pried it through his teeth. Her tongue swirled lightly against his as her lips pressed and caressed his mouth. Her hand again rose to the back of his head and gripped the hair there as she pushed further into his mouth. Her leg pressed between his, curling around the back of his calf as she flattened her breasts against his firm chest. It was hot, aggressive, and lasted for nearly fifteen seconds before she pulled away.

"Oh, Baby," Belle giggled. "They're speechless!" More than a little flushed from the intensity of the kiss, Belle could feel her moisture soaking into the canvas fabric of her jeans as the two women stood there with mouths open staring at him.

"Hi, Stacey," he greeted smoothly to the one on the left.

"Sorry, uh..." she flustered.

"Hi, Tracey," he greeted the other.

She too was flustered, her mouth still open.

"Well, don't just stand there. Say hello to my boyfriend Darren."

"Darren?" both girls gasped.

"Missed you girls," he said as they rushed him, grabbing and holding, squeezing and hugging every inch of him with their firm bodies.

"Darren," Tracey cried, smothering his cheek and neck with kisses as her fingers pressed into his abdomen and into the waist of his jeans.

Her sister was busy battering his lips with a flurry of tiny pecks as her hand slid down his back to cup his ass.

"Whoa, whoa!" he said, squirming away from their roaming touches and disengaging himself quickly. "It's great to see you too, but after that kiss and all your attention, I'm going to have to take a cold shower."

The three were all smiling brightly, but only Belle was looking at his eyes. The twins were decidedly undressing and raping him with their eyes.

"God, Darren!" Stacey started.

"You look so yummy!" Tracey followed-up.

Belle laughed. "I know, right? Now imagine kissing him like I did!"

Stacey took a step forward and Darren quickly raised his hands to fend her off.

"Okay, okay! Stop teasing! Honestly, it's so good to see you all."

"Please tell us your staying," Tracey demanded.

"Why didn't you call us?" Stacey asked.

Belle could see the cold shield slipping over Darren and quickly interrupted.

"Yes he's staying, at least as long as we can keep him here. He couldn't contact us, and if I'm right, he cannot talk about the reasons why." She glanced at him and he nodded. "So, why don't we just give him some breathing room?"

Stacey turned to her mother. "God! Why'd you kiss him like that?"

"Yeah, like total brother incest," Tracey added.

Belle laughed. "Whatever. His mom and my dad got married after you two were born. Just because I raised him doesn't mean I didn't have fantasies."

"You're like twenty years older than him," Tracey argued.

"Twelve," Darren corrected.

Belle just laughed again. "Jealous much?"

Tracey huffed, storming out of the kitchen while glaring at her mom.

"Very much," Stacey said, smiling at Darren as she followed her sister out.

"God that was fun," Belle said. "You know how often I win those kind of things these days?"

Darren chuckled. "Most every time, I'd guess."

She laughed, slapping his arm playfully. "Yup."

"So, Belle, about the money," he said softly.

"Jesus, Darren! I have over $300,000 in the bank from you right now. And that's after spend almost $100,000 fixing up the place. The twins got new cars last year on their birthday, and I got one the second year after you left when mine broke down. I don't work half as much anymore, and we're so much better off."

"That's good, Belle. Great even, but about the money..."

"I know, you're here now, so you won't be sending it anymore. Having you back is more than..."

"No, Belle. Just listen. There's more. A lot more. I couldn't risk more than I sent before... I didn't want to risk it." He ran his fingers through his hair.

"I know, I know. Hush hush and all that crap," Belle said. "How much more are you talking? I mean, not that it matters."

"Substantially more," he replied vaguely. "Enough that you three won't ever worry about it. I mean, ever."

"So, we could move away and never look back?"

"Do you want to, Belle?"

She thought a minute, staring into his blue eyes. "No, I really don't."

"And, I don't think I can. I think I ended up here because I know I have to face my demons. My demon," he corrected himself.

It was nice, talking with her about all the memories they shared and the hard times they had gone through. He avoided speaking about anything that had happened recently, and they both avoided talking about what led up to his departing so suddenly. He could still sense a lot of animosity about him not contacting her, but thought she understood at least in part some of the reasons behind that. The money was to help provide for them, but she took it as an attempt to let her know that he was still alive and doing well.

Dinner was meatloaf and an almond salad that they he and Belle prepared together. He was just bringing the plate to the table when the girls came in, and he nearly slid the meat onto the floor when he saw them.

"Oh, is this about the age thing again?" Belle asked with an edge to her voice. "Cause, if you want to start competing like this..."

Both girls had their hair pulled back in a braid, Tracey with a yellow bow on top of her head and Stacey with a pink one. Each wore a white blouse, unbuttoned completely but tied at the abdomen, showing that not only did they tan topless, have firm abs and cute little navals, but also how dark and erect their nipples were where they showed through the thin fabric. Each also wore a little pleated white skirt that looked more like a cheerleader's than the tennis skirt he guessed they were supposed to be. Their legs were smooth, tanned, and bare all the way down to their ankles where they wore little boot socks and white tennis shoes.

"What, these?" Tracey asked, twirling to show her tight little ass and little yellow g-string that matched her bow. Stacey twirled as Tracey stopped, revealing that her little pink g-string matched as well.

 

[MatthewVett]

It seems like you've put a bit of time and effort into writing these starts. Why don't you want to complete them yourself?