To his surprise, Chris woke up in Mary's bedroom again. He had gone to sleep on that bed, after fingering Mary's clit to one last orgasm, thinking it was his last chance ever to experience a female orgasm. Though he honestly wasn't very good at it yet, and nearly didn't get there on his own. If only Mary had a dildo or a vibrator handy, but no, she was a good Christian girl, or at least she had been when this whole mix-up started.
"But is every birth control pill a sin on its own?" Chris asked them.
It made Mary's head swim, to hear Christopher talk about sex like this. She was almost sure he was the one she wanted to give her virginity to. It would be a sin, sure. But she could settle up with God after. What she was more worried about was whether he was interested in her, or how he would act afterward, or what people would say, or the logistics of getting the two of them alone.
The four were sitting on the back patio of the boys’ home. Their parents were out for the evening. It was a warm Sunday night, early in May.
Reverend William Seldon, vicar of a well-to-do church in London, was
having a hard time writing his next sermon. He was in the middle of
wrestling with the topic of the evils of lust when his housekeeper
knocked on his study door and came in bearing a tea tray.
As the plump and comfortable middle-aged woman set it down on his
desk, she said, "Begging your pardon, sir, but I thought you might like a
bite or two."
It is the Regency era, in England. King George the 3rd is mentally
ill and has lost the American colonies through his unstable rule.
Prince George the 4th became the kingdom’s regent and restored calm and
elevated culture, society, and piety. The social classes are clearly
defined, but everyone lives in fear of descending to a lower class
through poverty or lesser associations.
The Belle of Glenwood
Mr. Henry Carter, curate of the Anglican parish of Glenwood, was
having a hard time adjusting to his new role. He had recently obtained
his position several months ago, working under the rector, a stout man
in his 50s, Mr. Niles Brewer.
I received the sad news recently that my old acquaintance Marion Pevensey had died. I'd known her for many years. She'd been a friend of my parents. I had many memories of her, but one in particular I'll never forget. To this day I remember most of the details, but where I've forgotten I've added what would inevitably have happened.
I was twenty one and still living at home with my parents. One day my father received a telephone call from Marion asking if someone could help fix her bedroom curtains which had collapsed. I was pretty good at ‘do it yourself’, and my father suggested that as I seemed to have time on my hands perhaps I could help her. I was only too pleased.
As I sit in class with the sixty or so other students, the lecture
fades away. There's just Dr. Smith as he lays out the scenario to teach
us about social inequality. He comes closer to my desk and his
passionate blue eyes fall on me. Couldn't he just lean a little closer,
drop that pen he always uses to teach with, that he clicks to make a
point, and then get on his knees right in front of me? I bet the stubble
on his sharp jaw would feel great against my calf. Then he'd just
happen to notice that I don't have anything on under my skirt. He'd have
the class do something, then stroke up my legs, kiss and lick up my
thighs, hold me in place and tell me to be quiet so he can give me a
'private lesson.'
My friends were throwing me a big four-oh party and it kind of got out of hand there were a lot of people there. Many of whom I didn't even know. Let's just say that we passed small and intimate way back in the dust.
As I moved through the crowd, a woman who appeared to be about 45 caught my eye. She was one of the many people I didn't know. She was in shape and had a great body. I decided that at 40, I was allowed to chat up women who were 45. I move over to her and introduced myself.
The Cessna 1 80 came down hard, somewhere on the Polynesian waters; the waves causing it to buck and pitch. The landing might have been successful had not a pontoon brushed against an unseen outcrop of coral just below the water's surface. The airplane lurched onto its side, perching on the coral and rocking unsteadily.
"We have to get out of here now," shouted the pilot, whose name was Gaston, as he attempted to open the door. One of the passengers helped him. The pilot climbed out of the leaning aircraft and reached down into the cockpit and helped Daisy first and then each of the four male passengers climb out. "Jump into the water," he said. "The plane is going to tip." Daisy and the men jumped clear of the aircraft into the deep water surrounding the coral head. The pilot was the last to jump and when he did, the airplane tumbled over, ending upside down in the water and slowly sinking until only one wingtip was exposed.
I had no idea how much my life was about to change when I went to work that night in April 1980. I was nineteen, had no girlfriend, hell, never even been kissed. I had a job buffing floors in a department store. All the cleaning and restocking was done in the evening and right after closing. Then, after everyone was gone, I came in to do the floors. This way, no one was in my way or tracking on the floors. I would wax a different area each night and simply mop and buff all others as needed. I was going to Junior College and the store’s general manager was my Dad’s best friend and my godfather. Looking back, I was so lucky that this happened before camera surveillance systems were widespread and affordable.
“I actually don’t have a gag reflex! Oh, geez, that’s not what- I didn’t mean to say that. I just- ugh, why am I so marshmallow mouthed around you!?”
From the first moment I saw her, I had a major crush. She worked in the mail room on campus. She just had the sweetest smile I had ever seen. I wasn’t alone in my crush though. Basically everyone on campus was in love with her. Her name was Rachel and a few said she looked vaguely like Rachel McAdams.
I later learned she had made herself look more like McAdams on purpose. Starting in high school, a few people told her about her doppelganger and she was flattered by it, so she started doing her hair the same way and wearing the same bright red lipstick. Unfortunately (in her eyes and no one else’s), her body developed to be much bustier than McAdams’s.
The next day, Elizabeth's mind was in turmoil. Her actions
of the night before were bad enough, but the feelings and thrill she gained
from those actions had to be sinful. She felt as though she had acted like the
Devil's Whore.
The Pastor's libido was satisfied for the next few days
after such a strenuous evening. However, once that time passed, he found
himself once more becoming aroused by Charity during their evening lessons. He
retired to bed, determined to gain release with his wife. However, her behavior
was muted and without speaking her actions insisted that their intimacy return
to their normal form.
Charles was a lowly cordwainer (a cobbler in modern terms).
A religious man whose wife died during the plague outbreak in 1665. He lived in
an isolated community in Essex, of England; with his only daughter, Charity.
Age and failing eyesight meant that he could no longer make
much of a living. He worried about his daughter who, having reached the age of
18 was still unmarried. His concerns were mainly because he had maintained her
sheltered upbringing, deliberately keeping her away from other people,
especially young men. The exception being the Pastor and his wife, who they
usually saw on Sundays at the small building that served as a church for the
local community.
As was customary, the Temple constables came for Diana early on the day that she came of age; for it was ordained that one who had not been sired by a man was holy and consecrated to the service of the gods, if male to become a priest, if female to serve as a vestal servant; and that they should remain celibate all their years. She wore her finest outfit and did herself up for this big occasion. Today she was accepting a celibate vow and a lifetime of religious duties in the temple and the ministries of the priests. She was stunning, and folks stopped and stared along the streets, as her family procession went by.
Diana was named for a great goddess. Her natural beauty was striking. Her inner grace and humility prevented her from any vanity at all.
Peaceably Diana bade farewell to her mother but allowed them to follow behind her, to the Temple stronghold, for even had she so wished, there was no way she could escape her fate. She had long known that it was her destiny to become a vestal, as it had been her brother's to become a priest.
In which businesses prosper, families meet and a marriage is arranged, but no improprieties occur.
It was a large house, set in a small park, but it could never look like a house of the gentility. It shouted aloud to anyone of sensibility, in this year of our Lord eighteen-fifty, that this was the home of a tradesman. A very rich tradesman, it must be admitted, but not a gentleman, be he titled or not.
In the dining room sat two couples eating dinner. The master of the house, James Robinson was a mill owner, and a very successful one, His guest, John Smith was rather younger, but had lately made a good deal of money in the new-fangled railways. Their wives were in deferential attendance, and the food was served by a butler and footman, aided by two maids, so that the four diners were served each course simultaneously, emphasizing the grandeur of the Robinson household.
The sign above the store read 'Grey Dragon Games & Comic Shop'.
This was the place. Claire looked at the junk in the window. Games, dice, comics, gruesome little figurines, model war machines and space ships. All the geekiest, nerdiest crap on the planet. Stuff she literally had No time for. And yet here she was. Why? Sex. At least that was the plan. A ludicrous plan, to be sure, but a plan nonetheless...
"I was young. Though at the time I thought I was pretty old for a virgin. I'd finished at the university and then I had completed my training to become a certified church youth director. Seminary would come a few years later.
"I was thrilled to accept an offer for a youth director position at a large church. I was desperate to hit all the marks; I was eager to get to know the kids and I was adamant that I would be a fine, upright and un-besmirched example of Christian virtue for the youth.
"My church sent me to a youth conference out-of-state. Among other duties, I was an uptight, hard-ass, chastity chaperone overseeing a bubbling pool of hormones. Damn, I was vigilant; squelching boners and drying up young wet pussies. If, by the end of the conference; no lives were lost and no lives were created, I'd attained my measure of success.
One day just after school had ended, I was relaxing in my family’s pool. My parents were at work and under the impression that I was planning my college future. School had just ended and the last thing that I wanted to do was thing about more school. My sister, who was about a year older than I was, was also enjoying the cool water.
My sister Melanie was on her summer break from college, and according to my parents looking for a summer job. She had no intention of working any more than I had intentions of planning a college career.
My name is Peter Carpenter, but my friends have always called me Pete. I was a boy at eighteen, in August of 1978; and I had graduated from high school three months earlier. My eighteenth birthday had come and gone, and I was still a virgin. My entire love life had consisted of many awkward moments and but a few goodnight kisses while being watched by my mother. I was terribly shy around girls, but I was so horny that I jacked off twice a day.
"Pete, this party is going to be great," my good friend Bobby had told me before he picked me up from my rented mobile home, in his red 1967 Chevy Camaro convertible that morning.
"Look, Allison Miller is throwing the pool party at her mom's house. She's friends with Tricia, right?" Allison was younger, and us guys were not officially invited.
At college, Melanie reminded Dale of their date that weekend. He nodded, he was originally going to cancel, but now that Nancy and Dale had -- was 'broken up' the correct term? -- well, whatever it was, it was done, so he figured he'd take the pretty platinum blonde to the movie and try to get on with his life.
Just before he left the campus, though, he got a picture message from an unknown number. Confused, he opened it to see a photo of him taking Nancy from behind in their kitchen. The pic was a bit grainy, obviously taken from outside the house, but both their faces could easily be identified.
A text then arrived from the same number: *My place, 6pm -- Helena*
Once Dale had his privacy, he dropped his jeans and started to stroke his cock. Pretty soon he was approaching orgasm, and he grabbed the tissue box.
Thump Thump Thump Thump! "Ow!"
Dale turned. Nancy was sprawled at the bottom of the basement stairs, holding one ankle and grimacing.
He quickly pulled up his pants and rushed over to her. "Are you alright?"
"I hurt my ankle! Oow!" Tears were rolling down her cheeks.
"Don't move!" he advised her. "Just your ankle, not your head or other, parts?" He noticed that her tights were around her ankles. "Did you trip on your tights?"
Dale clipped an errant branch from the hedge, dropped it into the wheelbarrow, and continued further into the maze. With the 8-foot-high hedges, it was difficult to tell where he was on Trish's property, but he figured he'd be able to find his way out, how big could it actually be? He swiped his arm across his forehead. The afternoon sun was beating down, the last gasp of a tenacious Summer as they moved into October.
Dale glanced up as he entered the kitchen to forage for breakfast, only to find Nancy there, wearing a tight t-shirt and yoga pants that showed off her womanly curves. "Oh, uh, yeah, please." He sat at the kitchen table and she brought him a steaming mug, just the way he liked it, with lots of cream and sugar. "Um, about last night, "
"Mulligan," was all she said, a cute smile playing across her lips.
Dale woke up to the sound of a woman crying. The 19-year-old pulled on a robe and headed up the stairs, out of his basement suite and into the house proper. He quickly zeroed in on the source of the crying, the shadowy form of his landlady sitting on the living room couch, her head in her hands.
"Nancy?" he called out softly to her, trying not to startle her.
"Oh!" she whirled. "Dale! Did I wake you? I'm so sorry!"
Dale stopped as he spied the curve of the older woman's bountiful cleavage peeking out from her robe as she turned toward him. It was a struggle, but he brought his gaze up to meet her beautiful brown eyes. "It's okay, are you alright?" he asked her.
"We'll go to my house for the rest of the night," said Melody. Agnes and the Three Amigos followed her to a small stone house along the dirt street of the village. Inside was a single room with an overlooking loft. A fireplace was at the center of one wall, crude kitchen cupboards and a dining table were at the other. Cushions and pillows were scattered around the floor. "Burt and Melody, the Mayor and his wife, live no better than I do," thought Agnes. "Equality is the norm here. I like that."
Agnes stood uncomfortably at the center of the room, surrounded by the three naked men and Melody, equally naked. Harry, the short Asian, took command. He wrapped his arms around Agnes and kissed her passionately on her lips and pulled her hand down to his erect cock. She explored the length of his cock with her hand.
Harry pulled his lips away from her. "Did that feel good?"
"Oh, yes," she said, eager for more kissing, more exploration."
Dick's turn," Harry answered. "If that's okay with you."
"Yes," she said again as middle-sized Dick pulled her to him and, this time, her hand found his cock without assistance. It was another long kiss, and his tongue went into her mouth and she stroked his cock.
"My turn," said Tom, She broke away from Dick and closed with Tom, who was so tall that she had to stand on her toes to reach his face. He lifted her off her feet, put his hands beneath her hips, and she curled her legs around him and felt is cock probing her cunt; but only barely, and she felt the uncircumcised skin moving back and forth, caressing her.
"Don't forget me," said Melody. "I'm not just a potted plant standing here."
Agnes
looked up from where she was kneeling in her vegetable garden. It was
Burt, President of the City Council of Heavenly Aden. It was hot and she
was wearing only a pair of shorts and a white blouse. Her hands were
soiled with dirt. "Hello, Burt," she answered with enthusiasm.
"Welcome!" She stood up and walked over to where he was standing and
kissed him on the cheek. For her that was bold.
"I came to apologize," he said.
"What
for?" she was puzzled. "I should have fucked you the other night. I
focused only on what I wanted, and didn't take your needs into account."
Burt had masturbated and cummed on her tits
.Agnes,
with less that a week in Heaven, still flinched at the word fuck. "Oh,"
she said, dismissing his apology, "That's all right. Harold, uh, fucked
me good. I was happy." She chuckled. "Maybe for my first sex experience
one man was enough. And I enjoyed watching you, uh, cum on me.”
Venturing out the chaos of the big city and into the widely different landscape that is the state's countryside it is easy to acknowledge the existence of the "other" city. A small conglomerate of towns loosely connected by few roads, where a great number of land workers consumed vast amounts of life, seemed to willingly stand in direct opposition to the skyscrapers back at the coast out west.
