Chapter 1:
A beginning, An ending --------The baby cries, because in its limited
understanding it knows one thing. The safety of where it was is gone. Maybe at
times it cries because no matter what the rewards of its new life, that safety
will never return. .-------------- It was crunch time for me; final exams in two
weeks, most of the projects were due at this time so there was no cushion. To be
honest, that's probably the only reason I took everything in stride, I had so
much to worry about that somewhere along the line I didn't have enough time to
worry. I had to visit one of my creative writing professors. The school requires
us to have a faculty member as a major's consultant in case we run into problems
with the department and to make sure we had at least our major's requirements
taken care off. I had asked Professor Jeremy Ryan to act as my consultant. I had
taken him for one class thus far. He was one of the few creative writing
professors that didn't try to be your best friend. He didn't act like being a
writer meant you had to act like a freak. Writing was something you did, an
integral part of your personality like the color of your hair is to your looks.
He didn't treat students like their work was so beneath him that he shouldn't be
bothered to say anything about it. He also taught one of the seminars I needed
to graduate but had to have the professor's permission to be in. I figured if he
got to know me, I would have a much better chance to get in when I submitted my
application pieces for entrance into the seminar. He had sent me email saying he
wanted to meet with me to discuss an internship he had located for me working
with a writing agent. We had talked my interests outside the writing world once.
I had told him that being an agent was one of the things I wanted to do after
law school, preferably in writing but not necessarily. He wanted to meet with me
at his office around 5 pm. The English faculty's offices are all located in the
basement of the English building. The basement is modeled on catacombs with
every hallway ending in two offices. Professor Ryan's office is one of the more
well hidden with at least five turns before you could get to it. I had wondered
why he had chosen that particular office as he was one of the few tenured
creative writing professors, I figured he could have taken one less isolated,
then again it was one of the larger rooms, more than half the size of the dorm
room I shared. I walked up to his door and knocked. No one answered. I knocked
again and still no one answered. I stood there trying to decide whether to go
get a cup of coffee and come back or just settle in to wait when I thought I
heard something from the other side of the door. I knocked again but still
nothing. I heard something from the other side of the door again and started to
get pissed. I tried the doorknob and it turned easily in my hand. I opened the
door slowly figuring someone was in there, but why take the chance of being
caught inside a professor's office without his company. His door is on the south
side of his office but it's flush with the eastern wall. His desk is on west
wall, actually facing the wall so that when he sits down his back is usually to
the door. I say usually because he was actually sitting facing parallel to his
desk. I figured he was probably sitting this way because the woman kneeling
between his legs wouldn't be as comfortable underneath the desk. I stood there,
as jealousy flooded me. Even in that position or maybe especially in that
position: on her knees, leaning forward into his lap, her back slightly curved,
her hands running up and down his thighs; it was obvious she had a fantastic
body. She was wearing a powder-blue skirt a lot like a cheerleader's skirt, but
maybe two inches longer. It rode up far enough for me to see telltale thickness
and definition in her thighs that speaks of someone in very good shape. Her dark
brown hair was just long enough to hide her face as she carried out the task she
had set for herself. She was wearing a thick sweatshirt that valiantly tried to
hide the rest of her attributes but only served to tantalize. I would say
something about her choice of attire, a short skirt and thick sweatshirt, but I
find the combination of a sweater and panties attractive and a short skirt was
good enough. She stopped caressing his thigh with her right hand and pulled the
hair out her face and behind her ear. A ring on her finger caught the light just
right, and captured my attention. It had a very simple design, the band too
thick for a woman's ring almost taking up the entire space between the knuckles
of her finger. It opened into a flat square face, with a shiny white stone set
into the ring. I'd seen rings like this before but mostly a male design with the
stone being black onyx. I could now clearly see she had his dick sheathed in her
lips. The motion of her head was hypnotizing. Not because of the sexualness of
the act, but by virtue of the exquisite care she took in performing it. Her
hands flickered gently between caressing his thighs, exposed abdomen, his sac
and the base of his penis. It was like she was trying to keep his skin guessing
from where the pleasure would come next. Her fingertips settled on different
spots only long enough to set off his nerves and moved elsewhere to stimulate
again. All of this happening while her lips moved up and down his dick. She
wasn't just moving up and down on his dick, though. Occasionally when she
touched his dick with her hand, she used that opportunity to remove him
completely from her mouth, and delicately stroke some part of him within reach
of her tongue. The concentration she put into her task was staggering. She
caressed his thigh with her right hand while her left hand came from the other
side of her head to grip him at his base. She used that opportunity to dislodge
him from her lips as her hand softly worked its way up his dick in the upward
motion of masturbation. She put the tip of her tongue on his ball sac, and
licked her tongue up following slowly behind her hand. When her hand ran out the
head of dick, she let it fall on to his stomach and ran her hand up his stomach
in small light caresses forcing him to push the back of the chair backwards
until he was as parallel to the floor as chair allowed. While her left hand was
running up his abdomen in carefully placed touch after touch, her right hand
stood his cock straight up, so that she could run her tongue around the under
cap of the head where men's dicks are the most sensitive, or at least where mine
is. First clockwise then again around but this time counter-clockwise, and then
re-enveloped him in her mouth. The next time the tongue-sequence began; she
started with licking his ball sac again but stayed there using her hands to run
through the random touches. Finally, she took him into her mouth again. The
speed of her mouth up and down his dick, was slowly getting faster and faster
building to the obvious crescendo of male orgasm. Her hair fell to cover her
face again, this time professor Ryan used his hand to brush it back behind her
ear. On his left hand, was a ring that ended my existence and began my life. It
was a male sized version of the ring she was wearing on her right hand. This one
had a black stone set where her stone was white. It also had a gold crest drawn
on the face of the stone. I watched him caress her face. I could not see enough
of her face to say whether she was facially beautiful or not, but I could a
pristine complexion that looked soft to the touch. She tilted her back to look
up at him, smiling to him by gently gripping just the head of his penis in clean
white teeth. She laid her ring hand flat on his hip, I think she must have done
the same with the left hand but I could not see. She speared his penis into her
mouth; again and again. After every five strokes, she would stop at the bottom
apex and making a swallowing motion that bobbed her head beginning at her throat
and waving through her head. The wave motion made it so she could take a little
more of him into her. She was trying to deep throat him. I think she could have
done it from the very beginning but I don't doubt her method was much more
pleasurable for him. It was more and more obvious his pleasure was all she cared
about. Five more strokes up and down, and she stopped, waved from her throat to
the top of her head, taking in a little bit more. Five more strokes again, up
and down and up and down, she released him completely from her mouth, reached
down to lick him from his ball sac to the tip of penis. Her tongue struck out of
her mouth in a sudden motion trying to insert itself into what must have been
the small hole at the tip of his dick, One tongue thrust. Two tongue thrust.
After the third, she again licked him from his ball sac up to the tip of his
cock, this time though she impaled her mouth on it. She returned to her earlier
rhythm, but this time it was only after three strokes that she would make that
wave motion driving him just that much deeper into her mouth. Finally, as I
thought my mind would explode, she touched bottom. She rested there, I don't
know how she could breathe. She just left him fully inside her mouth. Then she
began to move her head around, leaving him fully seated down her throat, I don't
know where else he could be, he wasn't huge but he certainly had nothing to be
embarrassed about. Finally, with an almost corkscrew like motion she unwound her
mouth from around him, only to drive herself fully onto him again. Again and
again, unscrewing him from her in a clockwise motion, driving her face onto him,
unscrewing herself in a counterclockwise motion, and again burying his cock in
her mouth. I noticed that in the unscrewing motion, that her cheek muscles were
slightly twitching. She must have been working her tongue furiously on him as
she slowly pulled her face away, and took him into her again. His hand came down
to gently fondle her cheek, she remained uninterrupted in her purpose. He placed
his hand parallel to the floor, interrupting my view of her face, and snapped
his fingers. I looked at him; he was staring at me, with a smile even a Cheshire
cat could envy. He won something from me at that moment, as I stared into blue
eyes; the admission that I wanted what he wanted. I wanted to be the one in that
chair, with a woman between my knees slowly unscrewing her face from my dick. I
wanted to feel her tongue on me as she did this. I wanted to come with me seated
as far into her as she could take me. I wanted a woman to take the exquisite
care she was taking with him. I looked down at her, and back at him. The smile
had changed now, it was the one a big brother gives his little brother saying
"Don't worry, kid, your time will come." I smiled at him, at least I think I
did, and closed the door. I rested my head against the door. Every now and then
I could hear them but I could feel my body slowly began to relax. It didn't want
to, but that last smile by Dr. Ryan helped some. I turned my back on the door,
and walked out of the catacombs. I didn't know why, but I was sure that he and I
had just spoken about everything he wanted to talk to me about. The conversation
was not over but he had established himself as having something to give that I
wanted. Outside, it was brighter than it had been before I entered the building.
Ch. 2 Part A Knowledge and Temptation
Temptation is about self-control, you can't tempt someone without it..- I woke
up in the morning wondering what the hell was going on and slightly expectant. I
knew Dr. Ryan was playing with my head but it was a lot more of a Christmas type
teasing, not a keep away. He was building a mystery, maybe a web. It would be
interesting to see where he went with it. I had a paper due the next day,
Friday, so I figured it wouldn't do me any good to worry about it. I took a
shower and got ready for work. I tried not to wake up my roommate but failed
miserably. I wasn't trying hard though. He's not a bad guy, he and I are just
different. He's a child of privilege; his parents pay for school, new car
because he got into school, etc. He and I lived in completely different
dimensions of reality, at least I realized it. He hadn't yet, so he complained
to his friends that I was an asshole. I was at least in his world, in mine I was
norm. I actually had two jobs, one on the weekend as a runner in what I call a
high class McDonald's, and during the week I work at the computer labs in
school. Neither is actually a bad job, one requires absolutely zero brain work
so I can let my mind wander and in the other I get paid to do homework. Fifteen
hours at a decent salary for helping people with software problems they could
solve if they actually bothered to do more than just come get me. After work on
Thursdays, I usually have three classes. I say that because I never bother going
to all three. I only had three core classes so it allowed me to start doing work
on my majors the first semester. I hadn't bothered with any of the introductory
courses. Most of the freshmen and sophomore in those classes don't know what the
hell their doing and while it's usually good for the class curve sometimes it's
not worth having to listen to stupid people make it obvious they are not
prepared for class at all. This attitude left me with three classes left to go
in both my majors and zero introductory courses at the midpoint of my junior
year. I had figured taking a couple of the introductory class at this point
would be interesting and easy, allowing me time to work on mostly on my writing
for a semester. To be honest, on Thursday the only class I usually went to was
my poetry writing class. It's annoying people wise, but they write some pretty
good stuff and if I can for one moment manipulate their emotions with my pieces
then I'm going to catch a normal reader. I walked into the class; looked around
for any hair color changes, finding none I sat in my usual chair in the back of
the room. I was the closest to a normal person in the class which didn't say
much for the rest of the class. I had just begun to reread all the poems we were
going to critique when Melissa Bryar walked in. The only reason I can say I'm
the closest to normal in this class is because she's so normal, she crosses over
onto the other side of normal. Melissa's about 5'1, blond hair and light green
eyes. The eyes are fascinating, green eyes are usually dark green or a blue-ish
green, very few are a true green and even fewer a light true green. You would
have to paint the sky green keeping the same saturation and brightness to
explain the green of her eyes to someone who hadn't seen them. Melissa's the
all-American girl. So normal, I had begun to wonder if she hadn't been raised as
an experiment by the moral majority. She was a member of the cheerleading squad,
a sister in the Premier sorority at our college, and a honors student. I used to
live on her floor last year and knew she didn't date, didn't hang out with the
jocks like the other cheerleaders. For all I had seen, all she ever did was
study, practice, attended the necessary functions of her sorority and prepared
herself for law school admissions. She smiled at the leather wearing,
blue-haired poetess in the front of the class. The poetess is a lesbian. I can
safely say that not because of her looks but because she reacts to Melissa the
exact same way 90% of the guys do. As soon as Melissa walks by, she turns to
check out her ass, grimaces in desire and sighs. It would be funny if I didn't
have to control myself not to do the same. Melissa, early in the semester, had
decided to sit next to me. She had kind of befriended me early last year. I
think she had the exact same school plan as I did. To the extent that I'd had
her in 6 of 12 classes this year, which is one thing to be thankful for I guess.
She started small talk with me about the poems we were reviewing. Nothing too
weird, thankfully. Then I saw the ring on her right had, a man's design thick
band, opening into a flat white stone. I looked up at her, and that Cheshire
smile that Dr. Ryan had given to me was beginning to flower on her lips. Her
eyes said the same thing his had "Your time comes." I was sure she was not the
girl that had been on her knees yesterday. A wig unless professionally done
could not hide Melissa's hair, it was several shades of blonde, beautifully
waving into curls, and just past her shoulder blades, her hair was just too
thick. The body also said it couldn't be Melissa. It's hard to tell with a woman
on her knees and bent forward the way the other woman had been but Melissa was
way to short to have been her. I looked down into Melissa's lap, the thickness
of thigh the other girl had was not here either. Melissa has a wonderful body
but she isn't athlete thick just nicely toned and with skin inviting to the
touch. I sighed in relief, and looking up at her she was smiling even wider. She
knew. She knew exactly what I had been thinking, exactly why I had looked her
over just then. She started one of her short quiet laughs. Then I received my
third surprise in 24 hours, when Dr. Ryan walked into a class he didn't teach.
He said hello to everyone, and announced that our professor had just been
awarded a grant to study Irish poetry in Ireland and had arranged Dr. Ryan to
teach the last two weeks of the class for her. He looked over at me and then at
Melissa. He gave her a smug satisfied smile that let me know there was still
more to come. The class was on its best behavior, we were all pretty much
creative writing majors which meant Dr. Ryan held the trump card to our
finishing our major. He was also the only professor who had been widely
published in both poetry and fiction, so as students we were all fascinated with
his success wanting it for ourselves. I hadn't really counted on being a writer
and still don't. So while he was fascinating, it was only in the sense I admired
his work, I was far more curious about what exactly he was planning with me.
"Melissa and David" he said looking between me and Melissa, "Neither of you has
turned in your application pieces for my fiction writing seminar next week." He
looked at us obviously expecting an answer. The rest of the class looked at us
obviously wanting to ask why we were being singled out. "I want to do another
draft on one of the pieces, Dr. Ryan." I said. I had finished the pieces I
wanted to turn in but one piece was still giving me trouble as to how I had
ended it. I had been trying to decide whether to turn it in unfinished or to
turn in an older piece. "I put it in your mailbox this morning, sir." was
Melissa's reply. Yes, she was a college student that addressed people with
formal sirs and ma'ams. The class still had suspicion in their eyes when we
began our critiques of the poetry for that day. I smiled inside at them,
wondering if it would make them all feel better if I said I was pretty sure why
Melissa had been singled out but I was unsure what the point was with me. The
class ran it's normal course after that. As I was leaving Melissa asked me if I
wanted the notes to the two classes I had skipped that day, I said sure asking
her to stop by. I don't live on her floor anymore but at least she lived in the
same building. We had never worked together for any of our classes so I was
pretty sure this was part of the dance her and Dr. Ryan were leading me through.
Dr. Ryan caught up to me as I went to the bus stop and asked me if I wanted to
reschedule our meeting for the next day around 3 pm. I asked if he was sure he
wouldn't be busy. He laughed and said he'd be sure to clear his schedule this
time. I agreed figuring at least it would all make a good short story even if
nothing came out of it. I finished my paper, put it in my professor's box and
shrugging that class out of my hair. I prefer professors like Dr. Petrov, they
get all our work due prior to finals. If there is any mistakes you have finals
week to fix it instead getting hung out to dry. I had already signed up to take
a course with her next semester. I had dinner in the student center by myself,
thinking about what Dr. Ryan's angle might be with me. After awhile, I just gave
up and went back to my room. Melissa was waiting for me in our floor lounge. She
smiled as I came out of the elevator. I have to say that I love blondes. Which
means while I don't like people playing games with me, blondes are pretty much
allowed to do as they damn well please, as long as I'm allowed my open
admiration. Melissa seemed to have an instinctive grasp of this and that night
she played it to a T. She had changed into shorts and a t-shirt; very nice
shorts, very tight t-shirt. I was somewhat surprised by all of this, like I said
she had always struck me as a major moral majority player. Then again, I wasn't
one to complain. "Hi, David." she said bouncing up to me. "Hello." I replied.
"Got my notes." she said pushing her book-bag up at me. I smiled and said, "How
about my room for the exchange?" She smiled that Cheshire smile again. I held
the door to my end of the floor for her, she nodded a thanks and walked right to
my door. She had never been there prior to this, but I didn't think much of it.
I opened the door to find my roommate inside, extremely disappointing. She
climbed up on my bed, it's higher than the way the school gives them to us
because I had turned the legs upside down then put the bed springs back on, it
gave the bed an extra foot of height. She bounced on it a few times, before she
started to look around. I looked at my roommate hoping he would think to leave.
He didn't, like I said he lives in a different dimension than I do. I sighed,
shook my head. Melissa gave me that "I know what you're thinking smile." again.
"Well, I guess I'll start copying your notes down." I said. She smiled saying
"No need, I made photocopies for you." I looked at her questioningly. She just
smiled at me. "How about a movie?" she asked. "I brought some with me your
choice, I've got the 'The story of O', '9 1/2 weeks' and ....." she paused
dramatically looking at me, "... Bambi. I don't have a VCR and I'm bored." I
nodded. "Bambi sounds good." I said smiling. "Cool" she said "It's my favorite
movie." She pulled the movie out of her book-bag and crawled to the far end of
the bed, unnecessarily teasing me with a wiggle here and there of her butt. I
figured teasing was on the menu for the evening so let myself enjoy the view. I
think enough men don't understand that teasing can be fun even if you can't
touch. It's one of the few times nowadays you're allowed and expected to admire
and enjoy, but it does make it easier if you know you're being teased I guess.
She popped the video in, and turned the TV on. She turned around, still
crawling, looked at me through her hair smiling. She knew I had been looking. I
smiled back and sat down on the chair at my desk. She lay down staring at me
while the FBI copyright message came on, pouting. I stared right back at her.
She extended the ring hand to me, silently asking me to get on the bed.
Sometimes, you can't tell if it's teasing or foreplay. But not letting her have
her fun is 100% a mistake, so I got on the bed with her. The roommate was
utterly oblivious to my desire for him to go study at the library or anywhere
not inside our room. She leaned against me when the movie actually started kind
of laying her head on my shoulder. I didn't really see the movie, I spent most
of the time trying to study the ring. I didn't really learn much new about it,
gold band, unusually thick for a female ring, covered nearly the entire area
from her palm to the first knuckle on her finger. The stone was pristinely
white, if I hadn't known better I would have said someone had peeled a pearl and
flattened the peels on to the face of the ring. I could see the design on the
band this time though. On the left side of the stone was a man kneeling with
chains binding his wrists, he had his hands raised to the sky in supplication,
on the right side of the ring was the same pose but a female. The woman kneeling
in front of Dr. Ryan came to mind the second I absorbed the etching on the right
of the ring, a woman kneeling in supplication, her entire body and being focused
on his pleasure. I thought of Melissa in the same pose, in front me right there,
no roommate preferably, but I don't think she would care about him if the ring
meant what I was beginning to think it must mean. I felt myself get hard, in
seconds I was uncomfortably so. I tried to find an unobtrusive way to align
myself a bit better in my jeans, Melissa took this the wrong the way and just
lowered her head into my lap. I sighed a quiet "fuck" to myself. It obviously
wasn't quiet enough, or she knew more about what was happening to me physically
than she let on. She turned her body and head just enough to stare at me with
those green eyes, smiling innocently. She was pushing the envelope with me for
her own reasons. I had no doubt it was some kind of test, but for what I still
did not know. My only recourse was to allow the tease and test to continue, I
laughed to myself in one quick exhalation, and smiled down at her. I started
stroking her hair. Nice and innocent without necessarily being sexual, I
figured. It would also work to calm my body down a bit, focus all my nerve
centers on my hands instead of the my lap where inches away a beautiful mouth I
wanted kissing my skin, surrounding my dick was smiling in appreciation to my
acceptance of her purpose. I tried to watch the rest of the movie. Playing with
her hair did succeed in calming me down, then again as a blonde fanatic anything
to do with blonde hair will usually calm me down. The movie finished and she got
up on hands and knees and crawled back to the VCR. The view this time from up
close was so much better. I could tell now she was either wearing nothing
underneath or something frustratingly skimpy. I could see the outline of the
crease in her body, announcing to me this was a woman as if I had any doubts.
Again, a teasing wiggle here and there. She hit the rewind button, and turned
her head to watch me staring at her. Her hips began a slow left to right, right
to left motion, like the swinging of a hypnotist's watch. Left to right, she
would smile at me, right to left smile again. She let her head droop down, so I
couldn't see anything but her ass pointing her pussy at me like the barrel of a
gun, threatening me with eternal damnation if I should fail at whatever it was
that she wanted me to do. Her entire body began that side to side motion. Her
ass and head swaying on different sides of a pendulum, if her behind went left,
her head went right. My dick took quick notice, demanding that I take some sort
of immediate action preferably to walk on my knees right into that behind, to
peel the shorts and panties if there were any, down just far enough so I could
thrust myself inside her. Now, her head began it's own independent motion
forcing her hair to be the other side of the pendulum to her ass. Her ass went
left, that long blonde hair went right. She stopped, lay down on her stomach. I
thanked her to myself, and was at the same time disappointed that she had
stopped. She hadn't though. She lay there on her stomach, occasionally I could
see the muscles of her thighs and butt clench. She began the same left to right
to left motion of ass, but this time she would press down occasionally on the
mattress. The hair was still moving in the same motion right to left to right,
there was a song playing in her head slow and seductive and she was dancing to
it for me. I could now see a tiny wet spot, right where the inward crease in her
shorts said her pussy was. She was masturbating herself on my bed, without
touching herself. I understood the lying down on her stomach now. It allowed her
to press her pubic mound onto the bed, and stimulate the area right above her
clit, but the head motion because she was using her upper body also worked to
rub her nipples left and right on the bed. She did this for about five minutes.
Her hair waving, left and right, her pelvis taking her ass right and left,
occasionally down. Then she added a different thrust, she began to include an up
and down motion from her pelvis to her head. Every time, she pressed her pubic
mound into the bed she would push her herself either toward me or away from me,
adding motion to the pressure she was placing on her pubes. She was alternating;
pelvis pressed to the bed, slide towards me, side to side rubbing herself on the
bed, press her breasts into the bed, slide towards me more, side to side on the
bed, pelvis pressed to the bed slide away from me, side to side rubbing herself
on the bed, press her breasts into the bed, slide away from me again, side to
side rub on the bed. I watched fascinated, I'd seen xxx-rated movies with women
masturbating themselves, but nothing like this. She never touched her pussy, all
of it was proximate pressure to her clit and whatever song was playing in her
head. The siren's song had me spellbound. She sighed, cat-stretched up to her
knees with her arms extended in front of her, her head reluctant to leave the
mattress. This time she was clenching the cloth in between her pussy lips for a
few grips, then laid down again. She returned to the left to right, to me, away
from me motion. Again, she sighed and extended her ass up toward me clenching
the cloth in the lips of her pussy. Finally, when she lowered herself again, the
motion became more purposeful. She didn't come back up again. She kept her pubic
mound tightly pressed against the bed. As she rubbed it, left to right, up and
down on the mattress, her breathing was becoming audible. The hair motion was a
lot less pronounced, she was keeping all motion concentrated between her pelvis
and the tips of her breasts on the bed. Left to right, up and down. Finally the
explosion of breath, and one wordless whimper that said release. Small shivers
traveled up and down her back, her legs landed in my lap and she began to rub
her feet with my abdomen, her calves with the inside of my thighs. I realized I
had been sitting up and forward the entire time of her masturbation. I leaned
back trying to relax, and not laugh in absolute wonder of what she had just
done. She began to swing her calves and feet to lightly tap her toes on my
stomach, I found this even funnier. Finally, she got up on all fours, took the
rewound movie out of the VCR, and got off the bed. She quickly put the movie in
the VCR, leaned onto the edge of the bed to give me a quick kiss on the lips,
and smile into my eyes. "You were wonderful." she said to me. I laughed into her
lips, as I reached forward to give her a quick kiss of her own. "Bye" she said
opening the door and making a quick getaway. I lay down smiling up at the
ceiling. "What the hell was that about?", I heard my roommate ask. I sat up
suddenly to stare at him. I had forgotten he was in the room. "That was Melissa
Briar." he said. "My frat brothers and most of the athletes nicknamed her the
briar patch, she doesn't date, doesn't fuck, doesn't anything." I stopped
smiling. "What's up with her and you? What the hell did you do to her?" he asked
me. I just stared at him coldly until he found it better to return to his book
when he figured out He had seen me in a fight once on a school bus, three guys
had gotten pushy with two of the girls on the bus. Small confined space, short
broad male where only one of them could get to me at a time, it wasn't even
close. He had heard about that so he tended to do what most guys at the school
did, leave me alone. I got up to take a really long cold shower. In the shower,
I wondered about this whole situation. Melissa had raised the stakes to whatever
it was Dr. Ryan was doing with me, whatever it was it was obvious she was part
of the prize to whatever it was they were doing to me. I laughed to myself,
nothing to do but wait until tomorrow afternoon and my appointment with Dr.
Ryan.
Chapter 2 Part B Knowledge and Temptation
Ask a man what the difference between sensual and sexual is. The answer will
tell you more about his love-making than anything short of letting him hold you
would. The next morning a knock at the door woke me. I'd gone to sleep pretty
late pondering exactly what Melissa's actions meant. I knew she had been testing
me, or at least my self-control. I know she was offering herself to me, but only
a part of herself, as if to say "Take me tonight, but lose every night after!"
I'd been aware of some of it consciously, the rest was just natural.
Masturbating on my bed is not an invitation to touch, or at least not with this
woman. I looked up hoping my roommate was going to answer the door, but he just
rolled over to face the wall. "Damn", I exhaled. I got up slowly hoping the
person would go away, and knowing she wouldn't. I knew it was Melissa before I
heard the second set of knocks. I was beginning to learn my steps to this dance.
I opened the door slowly and there she was looking bright and beautiful even
this early in the morning. "Hi", she said holding up a bag in front of my face
from which I could smell the sweet scent of some type of flavored coffee
emanating. "Breakfast", she continued smiling at me innocently. The innocence
had returned in her demeanor and her clothing; no nice shorts and no tight
t-shirt. The smile on her faced changed to that teasing "I know what your
thinking." smile. I was beginning to see too much of that smile, it was
disconcerting to have this woman know what I was thinking, she also almost
seemed to know how I would react to different situations. "No classes today.",
she said to me as she half-brushed and half-pushed her way by me into the room.
It was not an unpleasant experience, the half- brush-half-push. I watched her as
she put the bag with the wonderful coffee smells down on my desk. Blue-jeans and
a man's white thick shirt were not a bad substitute for shorts and t-shirt, I
thought to myself trying to think ahead to what might be on her schedule for me
today. I gave up with a quick shake of my head, I was perfectly capable of
figuring out the steps while she was executing them but it would be a waste of
time to figure out what the next one without knowing what music she was dancing
to. All I could do was let her lead. For now. "You have a very important
appointment today.", she told me opening up my closet. "Oh really." I smirked at
her, half in question. She just smiled back at me with a slight tease to her
lips. She took a step half into the closet and began to move hangers back and
forth looking I guess for something appropriate for the Dr. Ryan appointment
that had in one sentence from her become an interview. "That's 'interview' isn't
until 3 pm." I told her pointedly, "It's only 8 am now, Melissa." I lay back
down on the bed on my stomach, used my arms to hold my head up from underneath
my chin, and watch her. Well watched her ass mostly. She was 5 inches shorter
than I was but for a short woman had an extremely nice ass. The jeans didn't hug
her ass they just showed where curves began and ended tracing the route gently.
"Yeah, but you have to shower and shave, grab breakfast." she answered me
pulling out a white shirt from the closet that almost exactly matched hers. She
put it up against her chest and looked down on it, I smiled pretty sure if she
and I became a combination in wherever she and Dr. Ryan were taking me I was not
going to be wearing that particular shirt very often. "I thought the bag was
breakfast." I said to her looking at the bag on my desk. "Nope, just coffee."
She put the shirt back in the closet but obviously apart from everything, she
then began to sort through my clothes again placing things into what she would
and would not wear. I sighed to myself. "So I'm to shower, shave, go breakfast
and then what?" I asked sitting up looking for where I had thrown the towel last
night after my cold shower. "Work" she said withdrawing from the closet her
choice for the pants I'd be wearing for the day, a pair of tan slacks sort of
informally comfortable. I guessed the interview would also be informal. "How do
you know so much about my schedule?" I asked forcefully. "Tsk, Tsk" she said to
me bending down to pick up the towel that had been at the bottom of the closet.
That's another reason I like jeans that fit the way these did, with tight jeans
if she bends over only the position is new. These jeans hug the butt a little
bit more with any movement in that area of the body, so you have a part of her
body being shaped slightly different and the jeans give you the illusion that
you're seeing a bit more. She tossed the towel in my general direction and
returned to searching for a suitable shirt. I guessed then that explanations
were going to be Dr. Ryan's department. I walked over to my desk to get the
small bucket containing all my toiletries. I opened the bag, and took the coffee
out of it to take a quick sip. I hoped that it was black because she figured
better to let me add to it if I liked it differently, but somehow I doubted
that. I walked out of the room making sure not to stomp, part of whatever this
was, or at least her part was about my attitude to the whole situation. Well, as
long blonde and green eyes is waking me up in the morning I could deal with, or
at least deal with it better than if Dr. Ryan had woken me up. I felt a little
better after another cold shower. This time to cool down the bit of temper that
was surfacing. When I entered the room, she was sitting on my bed next to the
layout of clothes she wanted me to wear for the day. She watched me as I walked
in. I stared at her giving her the opportunity to look away. I wanted her to
look away. All that her looking at me change was going to do was turn me on
again. She smiled refusing to take the hint. I sighed and smiled to myself. I've
never been sure how attraction for a woman works but if she has expressed a like
it's generally safe to go in that direction, the opposite for a dislike. She
seemed willing and desirous of watching me, no reason to refuse her, and maybe
the favor of frustration that she had done me could be returned. I took the
towel of from around my waist pointing giving her my back at the same time. I
slowly dried my hair. I'm not a good shower drier, I usually let the stuff dry
on me if even that. I made sure to take my time for this occasion. After a
couple minutes spent on my hair, I faced her, still using the towel to dry my
hair. Her eyes riveted themselves to my crotch, I could feel myself becoming
harder and harder under the pressure of her stare. I started to dry other parts
of my body and her eyes began to travel and absorb different parts of me as I
worked. I'm not in the fantastic shape of body-builders or athletes. The army
had tried to put its stamp on my body, large upper body long muscular legs
shaped for distance and not power. Unfortunately, I was too short for the long
part and they had to settle for muscular. I've always been too wide for my
height. I had shoulders wider than most of my friends over 6 feet tall, and was
only 5' 6. It made me seem much bigger than I actually was. Since the army, I'm
utilitarian in my workouts. Mostly three times a week, a half-hour on the
stair-master and one exercise focusing on strength for every part of the body.
It was enough to give me a little bit of everything strength, tone, and natural
size. I could see she was appreciating it. I dried myself off but just leaned on
the back on the desk, I wanted to see how much would be enough for her. After
awhile my hard-on came close to painful in its insistence for more than just
being looked at, I decided to get dressed. She had an incredible gusto for just
looking, something to keep in mind for later I'm sure. She watched me as I put
on deodorant and got dressed. She sighed to her self almost forlornly as the
last button on my shirt was buttoned. She did enjoy looking. We walked to the
cafeteria for breakfast. I grabbed a quick healthy breakfast and found us an
isolated place to sit. We ate quietly. After we were finished, I looked at the
clock. It was only 9:30, I still had an hour before I had to be at the computer
lab. I sat back on the chair and stared at Melissa. "You know last night's..." I
searched for a proper word.." little incident on my bed is going to be talked
about. My roommate is in a fraternity that has it's own nickname for you. Plus
it's not like you're not well known so the world will travel around the campus."
"This school is too big for it to really affect me." she replied calmly. "And
anyone that knows me either won't believe it or will know who's bed it was in."
"What difference does who's bed it was in make?" I asked. "The bus incident."
she replied in a voice that said I should have known that. Like I said there had
been a small incident last semester of three guys harassing two girls on a bus.
One of the guys ended up slapping one of the girls, so I kind of bitch-slap him.
I don't care for the word bitch-slap but have to admit that it perfectly
describes the contempt I put into it. It wasn't much of a fight after that.
"Only one other girl in my sorority knows you. We were both asked to point you
out if we were walking with a sorority sister and saw you." she continued. "It
wasn't much of a fight" I said looking around the cafeteria "They were drunk,
couldn't all get to me at once, it was a confined space. Everything worked to my
advantage." "Modest, too." she replied to that smiling to herself. It wasn't
really. Most guys hate the thought of three things when it comes to getting beat
up; having a girl, a fag, or someone shorter than them be the one that does it.
They can get irrational so it's not good to have stories floating around that
they might do something that will make you have to do real damage to convince
them its not worth it. "My dad explained to me a few things when the boys at my
school picked on me," she said staring at me "He said the worst people to fight
were those with high pain tolerances, that know how to cause damage and have an
absolute willingness to cause whatever damage is necessary." I stared back at
her expressionless. She smiled, looked away, "No one that matters is going to
say anything to me." she continued to no one in particular. "I mean you get into
a fight with three guys for a girl you don't even know. Most guys are smart
enough to know what will happen if they pick on someone that uses your mattress
as a masturbatory aid." She laughed quietly turning to look at me again. I
smiled at her, it's hard to stay anything but enjoyable towards the Melissa I
was beginning to get to know. We talked about our schedules for the next year,
until I had to go to work. She walked me to the lab and told me not to be late
to the appointment with Dr. Ryan. She gave me a quick kiss on the base of my
neck before she walked away. I stayed outside looking after her, and then in the
direction she had gone for a bit before going inside. I left the lab at 2:30 and
went to the student center to grab a quick bite to eat before I went to talk to
Dr. Ryan. Rachel was sitting down in front of the pizza stand, she said hello as
I passed by. She was someone that I'd been wanting since my freshman semester
her. She never gave even a hint she even held the beginning of a belief that I
was male in her pretty blonde head though. This left me pretty much high and dry
with her. Unfortunately, every time I thought I'd stop wanting her, I saw her
and realized "Nope, still want her just as badly maybe more so." The whole
situation was become a serious depressant, and believe me it takes a lot to
depress me. I didn't stay to talk to her, just said hello, got a slice and
walked away. That was pretty much what I was reduced to with her, say hello,
smile, and just walk away. I walked over to the English building and worked my
way to Dr. Ryan's office. His door was wide open this time. I smiled widely as I
walked in. I was pretty sure I was just expected to walk in. He was sitting in
his chair facing the door. He smiled widely as I walked in. "Hi David," he said
"How you doing today?" "I'm okay." I replied sitting down at the chair across
from him. He watched me for a few seconds, I watched him back. I didn't know
what was going on so I figured silence was the best policy. "So any questions?"
he asked me with a touch of laughter in his voice bordering on smugness. I just
stared at him. I've been practicing being quiet and waiting for a long time, I
could wait for whatever was about to happen here. I was sitting too far away to
study the ring on his left hand any closer than I had up to now. He took the
ring off and tossed it to me. "Go ahead and look at it." he told me. He watched
me as I studied it carefully. The band wasn't gold like Melissa's was, it looked
like platinum, not shiny enough to be silver. The stone was black like an onyx
but I didn't know rocks well enough to determine if an onyx could be flattened
to this extent. The band also didn't have the etchings that Melissa's ring had
on hers, this was a much simpler band, in that way at least. The crest on the
stone was exceptional, though. The beautiful and detailed artistry was evident
even from a cursory study, I tried to inspect the crest deeply but I couldn't
quite get to where the detail ended. All that the staring resulted in was the
beginning of a fierce headache I had to focus on the entire crest instead of any
detail of it. It wasn't really a crest, from a distance it looked like a crest
but up-close though one could see it was actually a drawing of a gold dragon
bathed in gold flame. You couldn't tell if the dragon was reveling in the flames
or being consumed by them. I stood up, walked over to Dr. Ryan and handed the
ring back. I sat back down, looked at him, I really wanted to know what this was
all about but if I was going to be played with the way he and Melissa had been
playing with me, it was on them to take every first step until I knew what
morass I had fallen into. "The rings, mine and Melissa's are the key to this
mystery. I've immersed you in, David." he said his eyes growing quiet. "Let me
tell you a story, David." he continued, "Then you tell me if you believe it or
not." "A movement begins in ancient Greece arising from one of the examples
Aristotle argues against in his lectures. Plato wrote about them in his books.
The movement is about supermen. That some men are the elite of society and they
should run things. They are the center of society, and that society works almost
constantly against them, to hold them down." He stood up from to pull down an
Ayn Rand book from his shelf, he tossed it at me. I looked at the cover and
smiled. "The masses, the mediocre seek to destroy the elite from among them." I
said tossing the book back. "Yes, that's how this movement began." he said
staring at the book. "But, of course, as Aristotle said the masses arose and
destroyed the few that had banded together. Erasing any mention of them from
history." he smiled to himself. "The movement didn't die though, it went
underground. But whenever this happens a movement changes in its fundamental
values. This movement did also. Instead of seeking to rule the masses, to grasp
political power, the members decided instead to work together to protect
themselves, to build a network that would allow them to live their lives, and
the lives of those they chose to replace them in the way they believed it should
be." "A fairy tale" I said smirking. He smirked back. "Yes, we think that's how
our Society started. We're pretty sure about the dating right around Aristotle's
time. But we're not sure about the rest." "And now?" "And now what?" he asked me
back. "Melissa's ring isn't about living life the way you want to live it?" I
replied. "It isn't?" he asked. He continued, "The Society has changed in 2000
years, David. The focus is still the same, freedom from those that would choose
to interfere with how we desire to live our life in the name of pluralism." I
waited trying to piece together the incomplete picture he was giving me. "This
is kind of difficult to explain, David. I'm not one of the experts in our
history." he continued. "How about if I do it this way?" "Fairy tale or truth?",
he asked "Today there is a society of twenty- two thousand members. Two thousand
of those members are what the .... civilized world would call the Dominants. We
prefer to call ourselves Brothers and .. well, Brothers will suffice for now.
Twenty thousand members of the society are Submissives or Siblings." "The
rings?" I asked. "There are several kinds of rings but for now, it's enough to
say there are three common rings. A white ring like Melissa wears is a Sibling
ring. A black ring like mine is a Brother's ring. If a white ring has a crest
on, it means the Sibling is crested and has been accepted as the sole
responsibility of one Brother." "And the relationship between Siblings and
Brothers?" I asked him. "Also hard to explain," he replied, "Only a Sibling can
tell you why they wear the ring. So the relationships that they will accept can
vary between Sibling to Sibling. Let me ask you, most people find the words
dominants and submissives to be useful, but what did you think of the Sibling's
performance on me the other day?" I stopped to think about it. "Heinlein's
character in "Stranger in a Strange Land" used to make women faint from kissing
them." I said hesitantly. "Heinlein wrote that it was because when he kissed he
wasn't thinking of anything else at that moment, not even of kissing her. His
entire being was centered on kissing the woman, it becomes too intense for her
to handle. That's what I thought about this... Sibling. She didn't seem to be
thinking about anything technique, your pleasure, if she was enjoying it or not.
She looked as if everything she was at that moment was about giving you
pleasure." "That's not really covered in submissive." he told me. "Don't get me
wrong, not every Sibling behaves like the Doris. Like I said each has their
reason for the ring, and each accepts, and will accept a different type of
relationship with a Brother." "Nothing universal?" I asked him. "Very few will
ever reject a Brother's pleasure, they may not offer something more than that.
But rejections for just pleasure are extremely rare." I raised my eyebrows
questioningly. "Usually it's an error. The Sibling won't be wearing a crested
ring so a Brother doesn't know enough not to ask. Those are pretty much the only
rejections I've ever heard of." "Why two thousand and twenty thousand?" I asked
him. "The number of brothers is set." he replied, "It was decided a long time
ago and probably won't be changed until the world hits a population mass over 10
billion. The number of Siblings tends to fluctuate, and is so much larger than
Brothers because our screening of them isn't as rigorous." "Screening?" "Yes,
you've been thoroughly screened before your attention was focused onto the
rings." "How did you manage that?" I asked, knowing I wasn't going to like the
answer. He unlocked one of the drawers in his desk, pulled a folder out and
pointed it at me before putting it down on his desk. "David Feather" he recited
"July 20, 1970. Left at the doorstep of a Catholic orphanage in New York City.
worked your way through the foster care system, until you graduated high school.
The foster care records all say the same thing. Intelligent, a loner, doesn't
get into trouble, but can't be pushed. You joined the army as soon social
services set you loose on the world. Four year tour of duty in the infantry,
Panama deployment but no combat duty in the Gulf even though you did try to
transfer the day your unit was missioned not to go. The army wanted to keep you,
their records recommend that you be pointed in the direction of special forces
and officer training. Received and invitation to apply to West Point every year
that you were in uniform." "It makes good reading if one is smart enough to read
between the lines" he told me. "Things like how does your type of personality
develop from a social services program most people admit doesn't work properly?
How you knew enough without having advice to ensure take the GI bill options
when you joined? You saved a tremendous amount of your money while you were in
the army in preparation for being here. A lot of things that would make anyone
want to take a second look at you." I watched him now, I had been right I didn't
like the answer. "Don't feel uncomfortable." he told me waving a hand at me
depreciatingly, "We've actually been watching you for a long time. You ran
across one of the Brothers in grammar school. A fantastic educator. He suggested
that you be adopted even back then, but few of the Brother's homes are what you
would consider a family environment. So we had to let watching you suffice." "Do
all candidates for whatever you want from me, get this much attention?" I asked
pointedly. "More." he said simply. "You were easy. We just had to keep tabs on
you. Usually we have to spend two years making sure a candidate to Brotherhood
in the Society will not be a disappointment to the other Brothers or harmful to
Siblings." "Is that all?" "Nope, then there's the psych evaluation you took last
year." I sighed remembering. An advertising agency had offered me five hundred
dollars to take a full psych eval. They said that they were attempting to get
rid of certain factors in the choices that my age male made in buying condoms.
The problem was that the last couple sets of variables they needed to ensure did
not affect choices were not easy to catch in the right combinations. They
refused to tell me the variables, something about if I accepted they wanted me
not to focus on the questions from that angle. It was an all day Saturday event,
but for five hundred dollars earned in one day, I was willing to blow a
Saturday. The door opened. Melissa walked in. She was wearing a short white
summer dress, white espadrilles and had her hair down and loose. She smiled at
Dr. Ryan and me, taking the last seat in the room. She started staring at me.
"So what now?" I asked Dr. Ryan but looking at Melissa. "The Brothers of our
Society would like to extend you an invitation to take a Master's Ring as your
own, and call us Brothers." "And the last few days were temptation." I said.
"Knowledge" Melissa spoke before Dr. Ryan could. "We wanted you know what you
would be turning down if you denied yourself the ring." "You?" I asked. "Yes."
she said simply. "Doris, too and every other un-crested Sibling that is
available for your pleasure." "Freedom." Dr Ryan finished for her. He looked at
me for a while before he continued, "You want to earn a JD and MBA for that you
need a school with a dual degree program. How's Stanford?" I looked away from
Melissa to Dr. Ryan. "It's actually not a bad program for what you want. It's in
California. We can get you letters of recommendation from a Senator, a Governor,
and a Congressman, a few people in your fields. The money wouldn't be an issue
for you either." "Knowledge." Melissa whispered. I looked at her. "I'm
temptation." she said. "Everything else is just letting you know what you would
be giving up." "I like to earn what I get." I said. "You did." she replied. Dr.
Ryan laughed. "We wouldn't be getting you in." he said, "But the letters of
recommendation help. And let's be honest these people know you better than any
professor or boss knows anyone they give a recommendation for. Every Brother has
had access to your life, like you would if you became a Brother. Anything we
give you, you earned by becoming someone we want as part of our family." I spent
a minute looking at each of them alternately. They just stared back me knowing
what my answer would have to be. "So all I do is say yes." Melissa beamed at me.
Dr. Ryan smiled. "Yes, and no. Yes, all you have to do is say yes. No, seven of
the Brothers still have to interview you. They all have to agree that you're
someone that we want in the Society." I raised my eyebrows at him. "Then again,
we've never had a candidate fail in any part of the training. So you ." "Failed?
Training?", I interrupted questioningly. "Yes, do you think we would turn you
lose on twenty thousand people who believe a black ring on your finger means you
have a right to their body upon command. That you are someone they could count
on for protection, to be their foundation if it's only for one night. Not a
chance." Dr. Ryan said to me, weighing my with his eyes. "What do you mean
foundation?" I asked him. "Do you think people wear the white ring just because
they have this instinctive desire to be submissive?" he replied. "For a lot of
us, it's a trade-off" Melissa continued for him, "The Brothers are a foundation
for us to believe in, something we can build out from. A family with more
connections. An escape from the world. A lot of different reasons, we like
having the Brothers in our life, and for a lot of us the only price is sex with
some of the best lovers we could have. Men we would take as our lovers anyway if
given the opportunity. And not even all Brothers have sex with us. I know plenty
of Siblings that have never made love to a Brother." "They give us everything we
ask for. The only obligation we are held to, and even then it's still our
choice, is for something most of us would gladly give to them anyway." Dr. Ryan
stared at Melissa. She blushed attractively. He smiled at me saying "Listen to
her, even if that's not she did over- answer the question." Melissa blushed
again. "So you don't want me turned loose upon twenty thousand people who would
instinctively trust me without being absolutely sure I'm worthy of that trust.
What does the training concern?" "That's between you and your trainer." he told
me. I noticed Melissa grinning at me out of the corner of my eye. As I turned to
her, the grin got wider. I couldn't help myself, I had to give her a silly grin
of my own. I turned back to Dr. Ryan. "A Sibling?" I asked. "Of course.", he
replied. "Think about it. Using the vocabulary of the civilized world, would you
let a slave train another slave." "No." I said immediately. "Why not?" he asked.
"Real slave, or sexual slave." I asked. "Both" he replied. "Real slave. A slave
can't teach another instant obedience. You have to worry about them being
lenient, they're essentially in the same position so empathy is too easy to
achieve between them. You would run the risk that the new slave is just
mimicking the actions of the first one." He shrugged, motioning me to continue.
"Sexual slaves are more difficult. Take Doris, She couldn't learn what she did
through hearsay. You can't tell her different things, and expect her to react in
that situation the way you've told her to react. If he moves to the left because
you do this, then do that. It's not enough, she would end up guessing when she's
there. It's also easier if you get the slave immediately used to the Dominant's
pleasure. You're training her to react in a certain way to a type of person, a
slave can't mimic that reaction well enough, it's not just about the sex. A lot
of what she did is instinct, especially if she is dealing with many different
people. With two thousand Brothers, if you want her to react properly, it has to
be instinct. Not training, her body has to react differently in perfect
conjunction with whoever she's with. I doubt another Sibling could teach that."
"So?" Dr Ryan urged. "It wouldn't make any sense to have a Dom train another
Dom. A slave has to do it. Only a Sibling, and being with a Sibling can teach me
what she wants, what she needs, unless I'm with them it's just hearsay. You
couldn't give me any experience that counts." I said turning to look at Melissa.
"So you're my trainer." I asked her. "We prefer to say First Sibling." she told
me. I nodded. I got up, and stared at a corner of the room. "When are the
interviews?" I asked. "Three tomorrow, and four on Sunday." Dr. Ryan said.
"Where?" "The Ramada." he said, "Melissa will guide you through it. They start
at 9 am." I nodded and walked out. Later that night as I sat watching the news,
Melissa opened the door to my room and walked in. "Hi!" she said leaning onto my
bed. "Hello." I replied. She watched me for a couple of minutes watching TV.
"They didn't ask me to train you." she said finally. I turned to look at her.
She was wearing my shirt this time, I couldn't see what she was wearing for
bottoms. "I've been waiting for you for a long time." she said looking down at
the mattress. I put my index finger under her chin and lifted her face so she
would have to look at me. "Siblings have access to the same information as
Brothers.", she shrugged, "I knew you were going to be invited. I had already
made the decision to become a Sibling. You would be the closest Brother to my
age." "The safest.", she whispered. "Scared?" I asked her after a few seconds of
silence. She got onto the bed and curled up against me. "A little bit. I mean
I've only had sex once, but I'm suppose to train you. To make sure you don't
hurt a Sibling inadvertently. I've got to teach you control.", she smiled at me
weakly. I lay down, she followed me down to rest her head on my shoulder. She
started to stroke my chest through the t-shirt. I turned into her so I could run
my fingers up and down her spine. She cuddled closer to me. I lay there thinking
about the whole situation. I pulled the t-shirt out of her shorts so I could be
in contact with her skin. She arched her back, when I started to rub small
circles onto the small of her back. She sat up pulled the t-shirt over her head
and off her body, and tossed it beside the bed. She was wearing a flesh toned
bra underneath it, it was not much more than a wisp of fabric, just enough to
tease. I was glad this time my roommate would not be around, since he goes home
for weekends. She lay back down, this time slightly on top of me. I placed my
finger- tips gently on the middle of her lower back where her spine met the
shorts. I started running the pad of my fingertips, up and down her spine making
sure I didn't make contact with my nails. Up and down her back slowly. Then I
wet my fingertips on my tongue and went back to moving my fingertips on her
back, I tried to make it so only the moisture on my fingers is what touched her.
I slowly pulled myself out from under her. She let me, lying on the bed on her
stomach. I got up, turned the TV set off. I walked over to the stereo and put on
Vangelis themes on the cd player. I got back on the bed. I straddled her thighs
imprisoning them between my knees. I placed my palms on either side of her spine
on her lower back. I did it slowly first the heel of the h
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